Hardman's Bar

By Hadrian Howell (Hardman)

Chapter 29

Aside from helping the cleanup effort around the city and finding a new place to sleep every night, nothing much happened during the next few days, which had me on edge. My encounter with Mesmerman had been a strange one, to say the least, and his chess analogy, which I’d been unable to figure out so far, had done little to put my mind at ease.

Who would that crackpot consider my King and Queen? Gauntlet and Needlegal? Somehow, I doubted that. Although it would make sense if the ‘Bishops’ were unable to protect them, but they could always take care of themselves. Of all the members of the Maniacs, they were probably the most capable, so why worry about them?

Somehow, though, I didn’t think that was it.

Rebuilding a city is an incredibly fast job when you have five teams worth of members working on it. Jobs normally done by large, slow heavy machinery are instead done with care and precision by fast, nimble mechanical workers designed for specific roles. Gutsman, Junkman, Stoneman and I did a lot of the heavy transportation when it came to materials, while Fireman and Heatman performed most of the welding. Even Crashman and Napalmman managed to find work helping to clear away the rubble while Gyroman and Crystalgirl kept a sharp lookout for any bystanders that had been trapped during the conflict.

A job that would have taken the city years on its own ended up taking a little more than two weeks. Sure, we hadn’t redecorated the insides of the buildings that we rebuilt, but there isn’t an Interiordesignman.

And all this time, I found myself looking over my shoulder.

It came as a surprise to me when Turboman found me wandering around the city one day.

“Hey, big blue, come with me, I want to show you something,” he said.

I grunted. I’d slept in an alleyway last night after being refused by the hotel the others had kicked down in when I broke their elevator. Turboman guided me to a familiar section of the city, to a building covered in a massive tarp.

“What’s goin’ on?” I asked. Most of Drastic Measures, sans Shademan, as well as the entirety of the Ascendant Androids were there, almost waiting for me. I saw a few of the members of Wily’s Warriors too.

Turboman spoke up. “Well, we were rebuilding the city, and a lot of things got ordered, and the Mayor insisted we rebuild Terri’s and the Diner while we were at it, so we… appropriated some funding to pay you back for the help with Cityman and Mesmerman. Hit it, Cloud.”

I was still confused when Cloudman pulled the tarp off the building, and everyone looked at me expectantly. Then, I saw the sign, and got a little less confused.

“You… you guys rebuilt my Bar?”

“Yep!” Crystalgirl smiled.

“It isn’t what it used to be,” Junkman shrugged, “but here’s hoping it isn’t too far off.”

“We even stocked it,” Metalman grinned. “From the peanuts to the beer.”

Large parts of me weren’t responding to the outside world as I took it all in. “I… I dunno what ta say, guys…”

Turboman nudged me and cough. “How about ‘Drinks on the house’?”

My mouth opened a few times, then shut, then opened again. “But… I… I don’t have any staff or anything! I… er… I’ve got to call Gag and Cassandra and… but…” I looked at the smiled and smirks surrounding me. “Aw, hell with it,” I smiled, “Drinks on th’ house.”

A collective cheer followed me inside as I took my rightful place behind the Bar. I Immediately noticed someone had organized the booze on the shelf behind me alphabetically, which simply wouldn’t do, so before long I was juggling bottles and putting them back in the oddest places, just so I’d remember where they were.

Glasses got filled, a few bottles got dropped (I was out of practice), and there were some very good feelings all over the place. During the festivities, some of my old regulars trickled in and resumed places they’d occupied for years. I managed to contract Crystalgirl into a day of waiting tables, and I threw Gyroman onto the short-order chef line, with a recovered Springman doing dishes (which he didn’t complain about nearly as much as Magnet had) and we worked our asses off with some celebratory re-opening business.

Somewhere, Turboman gave me the key for my new door, and the combination for my new safe, which was stored where I’d always put it. He also gave me a signed piece of paper with the Mayor’s signature on it which condoned the rebuilding of my Bar. I’m reasonably certain it wasn’t legitimate, but the signature was the Mayor’s, or at least close enough.

I’d actually later learn that Dr. Wily, of all people, had been the one to forge the Mayor’s signature.

As the night went on, I drank more than I really should have, but I really didn’t care. I’d have to reinstall the stage setup I had in the old Bar, and I’d need a few more tables and chairs, but it was just like being home…

I slept in the Bar that night, kind of bunked down behind the bar itself on top of my safe. Not comfortable, really, but it felt good. Gauntlet had been by earlier in the day to congratulate me on the re-opening of the Bar and to see if I was doing okay, so I wasn’t too worried about the rest of the team.

When the sun rose, I got up hours later and picked up the phone. Gag was easy enough to find, since he’d crawled in here last night at some point and was still curled up under one table, snoring softly. I dialed Cassandra’s number and got her answering machine, so I left her the good news and woke up my bad idea.

“Oy, Gag, wakey wakey,” I said.

“Meh,” he managed waving me away.

“Come on,” I told him, “I need ya ta help me shop fer supplies fer the Bar.”

“I said Meh,” he grunted.

“Don’t make me step on ya.”

“Meh.”

Step. Crunch. “OW!” Gag shouted. “Stop that!”

“Get up,” I said.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “Sheesh.”

Gag and I made our way through the City to one of my favorite stores to shop for supplies, a little hole in the wall farmer’s market known as Ingada’s. This place has everything, from good, cheap booze that’s easily resold in tiny glasses to the mounds of peanuts and tons of shrimp and ingredients we need to feed the customers. They even sell those little rapier cocktail toothpicks. You know the little ones that look like swords? They have the umbrellas too, but I save those for special occasions. It’s just more fun to watch two drunk guys start fencing with each other with tiny, tiny swords.

We lugged the stuff back to the Bar and put it all away, being careful to make sure my freezer and cooler units were up to specs, and Gag went… well, wherever he goes when he’s not here. I don’t know.

I kicked back behind the bar and just breathed it in for a while. It would take some time to get that proper Bar atmosphere to linger in here again like it used to, but I’d manage it.

Then my phone rang.

“Yo,” I said as I picked it up. “”Ardman ‘ere, whaddaya need?”

“Yeah, Hardman?” came… was that Sparkchan? “You need to be here for this, I think.”

“Be where?”

“The apartment of… what’s her name… Cassandra? I think she worked for you. Hardman?”

I was already out the door, tearing up new-looking sidewalk with a dead run and a lot of swearing