Hardman's Bar

Chapter 1


"Why am I here, again?"

I sighed. It wasn't THAT hard to figure out, I thought. Maybe he was just stalling for a narrative explanation. Who knows?

"I told ya, Mags, until ya get yer own job, I'm makin' ya work part time here at th' bar, okay?"

"THAT much I understood. What I DIDN'T understand is why I'm on THIS side of the bar."

I intentionally put off answering him as I examined the glass I'd been wiping down. It was tough to clean the inside of these things with the hands I had, but I'd been at it long enough to get it down to a science. "Listen, when those doors get unlocked, there'll be a whole mess a people lookin' to get in here and drown their sorrows in loveable booze."

"Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a red neck when you talk like that, Hard?" Magnetman asked me. I gave him a smile.

"Nobody that kept their face past a minute or so afterwards."

Magnet considered this as I finished the glass up and stuck it under the bar. "So, what, nobody then?"

I shrugged. "Not really." Setting my rag down, I took stock of my bar. It was a business I'd been running in this town even before I became Hardman of the Mechanical Maniacs. Back then, life was harder, trying to keep everyone in line. I had an on again, off again employee in Roll, Megaman's sister, who'd work the floor and collect tips when she and her brother were having a fight, but other than that, before stepping into the big blue armor, I pretty much ran the place on my own.

My clientele had changed a LOT since my acceptance to the team though. Where once I had run down superheroes and sad, pathetic dregs of life, I still had those same pathetic heroes and dregs, but in all the empty space AROUND them I now had paying customers, other team's members, and the occasional bad guy just looking to relax. Oddly enough, after a certain incident involving a party that ended up trashing the place, none of my OWN team mates ever came here unless they were looking for or working for me.

Like Magnetman. He and Snake had been slacking off a lot on the money earning front lately, so I figured I'd strong arm/ Hard Knuckle one of them into working for me. I remember it being a pity I couldn't find Gemini, since his ability to multiply would've meant I would only have to pay one person instead of four, but I do good enough business to afford it.

In the back, the sound of boiling grease consuming the previously frozen curly fries and popcorn chicken was masked only by the incessant humming of my cook for the day. Say what you will about what might have been my greatest mistake ever, but Gag made a mean short order cook.

Aside from myself, Gag, and Magnetman, I had one other person on my payroll today, who'd volunteered to pick up one of Roll's shifts for her. I wasn't sure about the kind of angle he was playing, and I know for a fact he didn't take the shift out of the kindness of his heart (although some might believe that), but I had to admit that Rocky Light was a hard worker, even if he did complain about the smell.

"Okay," I said, shaking my mind out of its review of the facts, "let's get that door open."

"I got it," Magnetman sighed as he wandered off.

My bar, which has no real name aside from 'Hardman's Bar,' is pretty much the ONLY seedy establishment allowed to exist inside the city limits. There're two reasons for this, as far as I know. The first is the amount of business I bring in the Mayor and his cronies can tax, and the second is at, strangely enough, Dr. Light's insistence. He seems to be of the opinion that a former Wily bot trying to make good in the world is a shining example of how all of his former minions can turn their lives around. Never mind the fact that most of them are now heroes in their own right, forming bands and teams to protect the world from the more outlandish enemies, but I'm not about to argue with the man who thought up the Robot Masters.

It was a minute or so later that something occurred to me. "Mags?" I called out. "What's going on?"

From the front door came a kind of embarrassed whisper. "I can't open the lock."

"Yer th' master of magnetism fer god's sake! Ya can't open a dime store lock?"

"Shut up."

After grumbling for a while, then lumbering out from behind the bar to do it myself, I returned to my spot as bartender and awaited the business.

Opening time at the Bar is 12:00 p.m. on the dot. You might think this is a bad time to open, but consider the fact that I close the place at 5 in the morning. Hell, even I need time to unwind. Shift change is usually around 10ish at night, which is when Snake'll come in to replace Magnet, Cassandra will step in for Rock, and… crap, who was my cook for tonight? I know I scheduled someone… Ah well, it'll come to me.

I buy a quarter out of my own till and give it to Magnet. "Put this in th' jukebox and play somethin' good, will ya?"

"Okay," Magnet said, taking the coin and making his way over to the jukebox. He started flipping through pages upon pages of song numbers. After a while, he looked at me. "There is absolutely NO country or rap in here. What the hell, man?"

"Country makes me wanna kill someone and Rap makes me sick," I told him.

"Classical music? In a BAR?"

"S'my freakin' jukebox. You gonna play somethin'?"

"At least there's something in here…" Mags said, pressing a few numbers. The speakers in the bar crackled to life with Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody.' I nodded my approval as the first customers came in.

Any way the wind blows…

Torchman pulled up a stool at the bar and settled down on one arm with a dejected sigh. I'd seen his face around here a lot lately. "What'll it be, Torch?" I asked.

"Gin in one glass, Tonic in the other. Keep it coming, Hardman."

"You payin' this time?" I asked pointedly.

He set a roll of bills on the table that nearly made my eyes fall out. "Wh… Ooookay," I managed after a few seconds. Filling his order I checked the floor. Metalman and Bubbleman seemed to be sharing some surprise at being waited on by my waiter for the day, but the room was pretty slow besides that.

I leaned on the bar across from Torchman. "So what went wrong this time?" Normally, I wouldn't socialize with someone who tried to kill me before so openly, but something was weird here. That, and Torchman always came here with his sob stories, which were the source of much amusement back at the base with the other Mechs.

Surprisingly, he shook his head. "Nothing went wrong…"

"Thus the load of cash?" I asked.

"Yeah…"

"So why th' alcohol an' long face?"

Torchman empty his glasses and asked for a refill before answering. "You know, when you knock over an armored car, and you all decide to share the wealth, and everything goes smooth, and you're all looking at about ten thousand dollars for everyone?"

"Never had it happen, but I can imagine. Go on."

"Well," he said, choking up a little, "I'd have been fine with the whole thing, if it'd been MY plan. But OH, NO, Bitman had to mastermind the whole damn thing and after I got 10% of MY share they voted me off the team. Bitman said I could live off the money he'd 'donated to the poor' and threw me out! ME!"

"That's rough," I said. I'd heard stories like this a lot. Not necessarily from Torchman, but close enough.

"Bastards," he sobbed. He threw the Gin and the Tonic down his throat again and gave me the glasses, which were back in his hands in 15 seconds.

As Torch proceeded to cry into his drink, Magnet slapped his hand on the other end of the bar. Making my way over, he looked kind of confused.

"So, what am I doing today?" Magnet asked. "Wonderboy is waiting on tables, and Gag's cooking, so what do I do?"

"Dishes," I said with a smirk. He tried to hit me but I backed away to quick.

"You SUCK!" he shouted at me. I held up my hands and chuckled.

"Cleanin' glasses and plates at minimum wage is the best motivator to find yer own damn job. Trust me."

With a final glare, Magnetman stormed back into the kitchen to rant to gag about how he was being treated. Not caring particularly much, I went back to my bartending thing. Cleaning glasses, juggling bottles, you know how it is.

Things remained pretty calm for an hour, during which I had gotten so bored I was stacking, making pyramids out of, then restacking the plastic cups I use for sodas. My hands, by this point independent of my body (I love having detachable hands some days) flew like lightning while a few of my regulars watched in something like amusement. Handless, I was chatting with Rock at this point.

"Look, I'm not gonna stop servin' booze, man. Destroys my entire business."

"But alcohol's a deceiver and it poisons the soul!"

"WHAT soul? We're goddamn robots, man!"

"It still can't be good for us," Rock shrugged. "Besides, you can get in a lot of trouble, you know?"

"For what?"

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