Mechanical Maniacs: Back on the Beat
Plus 'Maniac Mechanica!'

By Hadrian (Hardman) Howell

Introduction

"Whaddaya mean yer gonna hafta 'Stop Construction'?"

"Well, simply put, you're not paying us enough to continue the work." the man in the blue overalls shrugged.

"I tol' ya! I'll have yer payment after th' bank clears me fer th' second loan next week. I swear ta god!"

He gave me a smug smile. "Then we'll pick construction back up once I have the check."

"I already PAID ya fer this week's work wi' th' FIRST check."

"No, you paid us for this week's AMOUNT of work, and we've worked very hard for the past two, which means we've done the AMOUNT of work we were expecting to do this week over the last two."

I turned and looked at the 'work' that had been done. All I saw before me was an empty lot. Granted, it was now clear of the ruins that had occupied it for the last few months, ever since the Scissor Army had stormed into Monsteropolis and laid waste to everything I ever held dear in my life, but no REAL attempt to rebuild my bar had been made yet. Hell, it would have taken me an afternoon to come this far on my own, but the city zoning laws prevented me, as classifiably 'heavy machinery' from operating (techincally, the law stated 'from being operated,' but Gaderham's assured me the law still applies) in a construction capacity without the required permits.

The smug man and his crew of 'workers' were already packed up and moving out into the falling dusk of the night, probably to never be heard from again unless money came calling to them. I had already had to promise them a higher-than-average pay to get them to show up at all, due to the overflow of work avilable to contractors these days with so much of the world needing to be rebuilt after the recent War, and now all I had to show for the pitiful remains of my life savings (aside from the fact that I had managed to convince Artilleryman NOT to blow my head off when he had the chance) was an empty lot on some forgotten side street that I happened to own the deed to.

"I'll be waiting to hear from you again," the contractor smiled. "Pleasure doing business with you."

I had to resist the urge to beat him to death. For me, that was the biggest challenge I'd faced in a looooong time.

Oh, yeah, introductions. Yo, my name's Hardman, resident tank and demolitions expert of the Mechanical Maniacs. Need something knocked over or rendered two dimensional? I'm the guy to call.

As the construction crew left me alone in the swiftly coming night with my empty lot, I stepped off the sidewalk and onto the bare, pitted concrete that had existed under my hardwood floors. I could see it, in my head, where my tables had been, where the bar had stood, and where the kitchen doors had sat. I knew where the jukebox used to be, I could almost visualize all the crap on the walls, and I could almost, ALMOST smell the fryers.

I sat down heavily on the cold floor. Stars were starting to show up overhead. I remember heaving a sigh. Then I think I sort of passed out.

I cracked my eyes open when the sun started to rise. There were some curious bums on the sidewalk, obviously debating about the idea of poking me with a stick, because they disappeared in a hurry when I started to move around. I sat up, trying to get my bearings.

None of the other Mechs were around, and there was no chatter on the open team channel. Guess that means nobody's really looking for me. That's a good thing, I guess, because it means life is still calm and nobody is really trying to pull anything crazy this soon after the War, but it's bad because I'm sort of... well, alone.

I decided to go for a walk, not really going anywhere, just sort of going. I felt skeezy as hell, and I could probably use a shower, but I didn't want to just show up at the Mechs' base and have people ask me where I was all night.

"Hey!" I heard a cheerful voice behind me, "where were you last night?"

Topman skated by on his heels, turning around and letting me catch up with him when he stopped.

"Kinda conked out on th' street, I guess," I shrugged.

He seemed to understand what I meant. Ever since things had settled down, the other Mechs were real cautious around me mostly because my Bar was gone and Cassandra was in the hospital in a coma, so they were careful not to really get on my case about much. I appreciated the thought and all, but I know I'm not the only person who lost a lot during the war. I'm just the biggest. I'd actually rather they be more concerned about Spark or Mags, or maybe even Gem. Of course, who's to say they aren't? I dunno, like I said, I haven't been around much.

"Well, you look like hell," Topman commented, a smile plastered to his features.

"Yeah, thanks," I gumbled.

"Ah, don't let it get you down," he said, giving me a pat on the back (something of a stretch for him). "At least you aren't dead, right?

"I s'pose," I admitted. "So what's been up?"

Top's face changed expressions, although I wasn't sure what to make of the new one. "Well... it's kind of weird, you know? All of the stuff that happened during the War is still kind of hanging in the air, and nobody really wants to talk about it."

"It's not exactly somethin' I plan on scrapbookin'," I nodded.

He gave me a look before laughing. "Was that a joke? Maybe you're not as depressed as I thought."

"Humor's my way o' copin' wi' th' world at large, sometimes."

"Well, it wasn't a very GOOD joke," Top told me reproachfully.

"Yeah, I know."

"So what did you do last night that ended in you sleeping on the street?"

I gave Top a rough approximation of the story, albeit with a bit more swearing a name-calling than the version YOU got. He sympathized.

"Just can't trust contractors," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Yeah, bu' whaddaya DO abou' it?" I asked for no real reason. "I mean, s' not like I c'n jus' wander down ta th' records office an' apply fer a construction liscense. Ya need a college degree I don't got th' time 'r th' patience ta suffer through ta get somethin' like that. Sure, 'n th' long run I'd prolly save money, given th' fact I gotta rebuild th' damn thin' two 'r three times a year, bu' I jus' wanna run my bar 'n peace. I don't wanna hafta sidequest my way back inta th' life I used ta have."

Topman blinked. "Did... did you just refer to college as a sidequest?"

"Th' point is," I barreled onward, ignoring his question, "I already HAD all th' thin's in life tha' made me happy! I had a business, I had enough money ta RUN th' business, I had good pals an' I had a job tha' let me beat th' crap outta somethin' once 'n a while. Seriously, I don' ask fer much when it comes right down ta it. Why'd th' stupid bad guys hafta kill all that fer me?"

"Because they're bad guys, Hard," Top said. "Look, you'll get your bar back. It'll be fine. Things ALWAYS work out in the end, you know that."

"I guess," I sighed. "I'm jus' sick o' th' whole rigamarole o' goin' through th' intro, th' story, an' th' conflict b'fore I get th' resolution I want."

We rounded a street corner as we walked, and Topman's face lit up again. "You know what might cheer you up?" he asked.

"Hm?"

"Some good, old-fashioned, random short stories... I mean, uh, police work. Yeah. Police work."

I gave him a critical look. "Way to bust the fourth wall, man."

"Sorry, sorry, I don't know what came over me."

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Mechanical Maniacs: Back on the Beat
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And now, in a brand new segment that may or may not be hosted by tiny, cute versions of the heroes you know and (presumably) love, here's...

Maniac Mechanica!

Hardman: Yo, guys! How's everything?

Topman: Hello to the audience!

Hardman: Woo! Boy, aren't YOU glad the Business of War super crossover event is over?

Topman: I'll say. It got REALLY serious there towards the end.

Hardman: It was pretty serious to start with...

Topman: True, true.

Hardman: But now it's over, which means we can get back to the funny stuff!

Topman: Hooray! ... But, wait, that last bit wasn't very funny.

Hardman: Eh, I needed to get it out of my system. Trust me, I'll manage something hilarious and probably action packed for the next one!

Topman: Oh, yeah, speaking of which, Hardman, shouldn't you explain what's going on here?

Hardman: Oh! Right, right. Well, some of the audience-

Geminiman: Three people doesn't constitute an audience!

Hardman: ... Readers. Some of the readers might remember a collection of short stories I wrote/was writing before the BoW began about the Maniacs in their capacity as police officers.

Topman: Yeah, I remember that. Good stuff.

Hardman: Well, for a lack of anything else to do, I figured I'd go back to it, to help segway myself back into some good old chuckles and, of course, to harvest more praise from the unsuspecting masses!

Topman: Uh... You could have worded that in a way that didn't make you sound egotistical.

Geminiman: I'm pretty sure it isn't spelled 'segway'....

Topman: Also true.

Hardman: They say honesty is the best policy.

Topman: That doesn't always apply! There's such a thing as TOO much honesty!

Hardman: Oh, and as an added bonus, I'm making a new segment at the end of each short story just like this one where I'll poke fun at myself and the others! Mostly the others, though.

Topman: You're not even listening to me!

Hardman: Most of the time, these 'after the story' segments will discuss the events and be between the characters involved, if only to shoehorn in some out of character humor.

Topman: Ah, so you're COMPLETELY shameless.

Hardman: Absolutely!

Geminiman: Does that really surprise you, Top?

Topman: Sadly, no. No it doesn't.

Snakeman: Well, this is going to go poorly.

Needlegal: If we learn anything from this debacle, I'll be shocked as hell.

Topman: Well, until Hardman stops exploiting us for personal gain, we are... the Mechanical Maniacs!