The Business of War
Orchestrated By C.M. Rich (Magnetman)
War's End Part 4
By Gauntlet, Hardman, CM Rich
Scenario A
Participants:
Mechanical Maniacs (RPD)
Magnetman (Mez)
Docman (Mez)
Wily Rescue Force (W)
Mr. Whiz (W)
Napalmman (N)
Artilleryman (A)
Constance (?)
Location: Eden, Skull Castle
SA Infantry: ?
RPD Units: ?
Wily Bots: ?
The 'Maniacs immediately
attacked the reformed master of manipulation. Hardman used his
fists to smash his body. Mesmerman responded in kind. He was furious.
He had actually been hurt by these meddlesome ants. But now…Now,
something else had grabbed the discombobulated monster’s attention.
Something more…interesting.
His gaze fixed beyond the worn and tattered group of heroes even
as they continued their seemingly pointless efforts against him,
his body on auto-pilot, dodging wild swipes and haphazardly fired
bolts of energy and other weapons. His mind seemed to miles away,
or at least not in that room.
This didn’t go unnoticed to the Mechs and their comrades.
“Pay attention ta us, ya bastard!”, Hardman demanded, annoyed that
even his best efforts were being brushed off.
“Uh…Do we really want that, man?”, Top shot Hard a sideways glance.
Mesmer, meanwhile, seemed to muster a small chuckle under his breath.
“What’s so hilarious?”, Snake muttered through gritted teeth, his
body wracked with pain from the day’s fighting.
“He’s here.”
“’He’? Who ‘he’?”, Topman arched an eyebrow as his top bombs failed
to find their target.
“Who do you think?”, Shadowman groused, his sword also missing
its mark.
The other Mechs slowed for a second to give their shinobi leader
a skeptical look. Was G hiding something this late in the game?
“Who?!”, Snake demanded.
“Oh, this wasn’t in my script…But I’m not at all surprised…”, Mesmerman
gloated. “But, I just have to wonder what’s up his sleeve?”, he
asked aloud in a rather cheesy tone on purpose.
“G, who the hell is he talking about?”, Geminiman finally barked
out for a answer.
“…I…There was always something bothering me about the way Cutman
died…”
“…You gotta be kidding me…”, Hardman said, his face awash in horrified
realization.
“This is bullshit! You guys are out of your minds!”, Topman spat.
“Its not all that hard to believe if you think about it.”, Snake
reasoned. “Can’t say I’m very happy about this, though…”
“How?!”, was all Geminiman could think to say in his shock and
anger.
“…It really doesn’t matter. I mean, how many bad guys of ours have
been killed, only to come back again? Would knowing how he managed
to return make beating him any easier?”, Shadowman reasoned, though
some measure of weariness crept into his voice.
“Reeheeeheheheheeeeeeeee!”, Mesmerman’s ghastly laugh rang out.
“Looks like the lot of you won’t be going home no matter how you
look at it! You certainly don’t have a chance at defeating me by
myself, and your chances of survival against him are virtually
nil!”
“Yer too quick to talk, puzzle face!”, Hardman yelled, nearly smacking
down one of Mesmer’s random floating body parts in the process.
“The way I ‘member it, he’s gotta bit offa vend’ta against you
too.”
“I’m sure he does! That just makes this situation all the more
exciting, doesn’t it? After all, its boring when things go according
to plan one hundred percent. I’m just curious as to what he plans
on doing to settle his score with all of us, hmm?”
“Where is he, Mesmer?”, Shadowman asked in a dark tone. If things
weren’t on a time limit before, they sure as hell were now with
both of these monsters in the same place. He knew the “good guys”
didn’t stand a chance if they were caught between these two sociopaths
once again. Things weren’t going all that great against even one
of them, and they definitely had the numbers advantage.
“You know…I’m not quite sure.”, Mesmer thoughtfully retorted, another
volley of Needle Cannon fire whizzing past his face by mere inches.
In truth, Mesmer was just a little concerned. With this absolute
abundance of energy at his disposal, Mesmer’s level of perception
was impossibly high. So much so that he could find out what a person’s
move would be even before they knew, and he could do this on a
massive, word-encompassing scale.
But this Cutman was different. He definitely had the real General’s
“signature”, but that was it. He couldn’t even deduce his basic
intentions. He was like a traveling haze to the Master of Perception.
“You’re toying with us, Mesmer!”, Needle screamed.
“Not as much as you think, but it’s the thought that counts.”
An orb smashed into Needle in mid flight, sending her on a detour
that landed her roughly against an unfinished wall, sending sparks
into the air upon impact. Doing her best to brush it off and regain
her footing, she slipped slightly- her wounds were definitely catching
up to her. A look at the rest of the others told her that wasn’t
an uncommon feeling.
Another look across the room told her something else- their new
“guest of honor” was here, announced by a shadow cast against a
corridor’s wall and the slight clanging of metal on metal. A slight
scent of old blood and machine oil accompanied him as he stood
at the breech of the hall.
Gradually, the others stopped fighting, and the room regained an
eerie calm maintained by the hum of power grids and computers.
“You’re late.”, Mesmer chided.
Somehow, this sly remark wasn’t met with a rebuttal, but a constant
stoic visage from the skull-faced creature that stood at the helm
of the roughly finished room. A strange air accompanied him; completely
indescribable, even for Mesmerman. It was almost…calm.
Shadowman looked over his sworn nemesis, and was dismayed by what
he saw. Cutman stood before him in immaculate condition- not a
single scratch adorned his body. Even his lab coat was in unusually
pristine condition. That in itself was unsettling.
“Not in a very talkative mood, I see. Well, getting killed would
put a damper on the old banter box, I’d imagine.”, Mesmerman again
prodded. If he couldn’t read him directly, he’d have to see what
he could deduce from this being through old fashioned psychological
analysis- a tall order when it came to the multi-layered General.
Inside, Mesmerman was starting to feel just a little anxious. Somehow,
the old General had managed to almost completely hide his psyche
from him. Certainly, he’d have to figure out how he accomplished
this and hide this interesting bit of info before he again killed
him.
“So.”
Cutman’s voice shorn through the air like a blade, even making
a few people jump at its mere sound. Something was definitely different
now, and it was a dangerous, horrible kind of different.
“He’s not even armed.”, Geminiman whispered to Gauntlet.
Lennon was indeed right- Cutman appeared to be lacking his signature
blades. This wasn’t overconfidence, Shadowman thought- this meant
he had something big ready. At this point, an outright attack on
him would be a really stupid move, but at the same time they couldn’t
just let him do as he pleased.
Gauntlet realized that they might have to rely on Mesmerman to
make the first move.
“This is where you’ve been hiding.”, Cutman affirmed.
“Still the observant type, I see.”, Mesmer chuckled.
“It’s over, Cutman.”, Classi began to try and talk him down.
No! Shadowman’s mind raced. Spark, don’t get between these two!
Too late.
“The Scissor Army is in its dying days. This war…It has to end!”,
she continued.
“Tell that to him.”, Cutman motioned towards the Master of Perception.
“He certainly doesn’t agree. Isn’t that right?”
“Tsk…Such blatant accusations! And in my own home, too. That’s
no way for guests to act!”
“You may label me a monster or a ruthless dictator if that’s what
helps you sleep at night,”, Cutman directed back at Classi, “but
at least my killing had a purpose. He, however, has no purpose
but to extend his own existence by perpetuating the killing.”
“You’ve got some nerve talking like you’re some kind of fucking
saint!”, Topman shouted back.
Shadowman’s face contorted in barely hidden anger.
Dammit you guys! This isn’t what we want! We have no idea what
we’re up against!
“So now”, Cutman continued speaking directly to Mesmerman, straight
and to the point without any of his usual gusto, “your plan is
to keep the war going as long as possible. Hence, the real purpose
of this satellite.”
“Real purpose?”, Snake uttered.
The other Mechs shot each other looks of skepticism and confusion.
Didn’t Mesmerman just claim that he would be willing to end the
war? And here was Cutman, now accusing him of wanting to prolong
it. While it wouldn’t exactly be shocking news to hear that Mesmerman
had lied to them, this meant he had something far more maniacal
in mind.
Mesmerman’s voice reached an ungodly high octave with his next
laughing fit before making the next confession:
“So, very, very sharp you are! How appropriate. You’re right, General-
this place is more than some spare body reserve to me. THIS is
new seat of Earth’s mass perception!
With this satellite, I can disperse my will across the entire globe
using the energy I’ve accumulated throughout the war. It’s a small
investment for what I consider a constantly gaining share of this
planet’s ‘stock’!”
Cutman’s eyelids drew narrow over his dim yellow eyeballs. “You’re
going to keep everyone fighting- man or robot- just to keep yourself
stocked with an ever growing reservoir of energy.”
Mesmer floated there, unmoving. His stationary grin told them everything-
that the General was right.
“And, you’re going to use what remains of my army to spearhead
this campaign.”, Cutman further affirmed.
“…You’re awfully perceptive.”, Mesmer maintained. In the back of
his mind, though, he knew something was about to happen. He didn’t
think he’d be able to keep this plan a secret from the General.
He wasn’t a complete fool, after all. He still had a back up plan,
but Cutman’s summarization thus far was scary accurate, even if
it was a bit blunt and neglecting the fine details of a masterful
script.
Cutman tilted his head forward sharply, giving his skeletal mouth
the grin shape that told everyone else he had something sinister
in mind.
“Goooood.”, he cooed, producing a chromed device from his lab coat
that Gauntlet recognized almost instantly.
“A detonator! Cutman, don’t-!!”
Mirthlessly, the single button was pushed even before Shadowman
began his plea. Unanimously the Mechs looked upwards and out the
panoramic skylight to the Earth above, searching for signs of disruption.
One may have even spied Mesmerman catching a quick glimpse upwards
before he caught himself.
Having such the level of perception that he had, Mesmerman could
feel a disturbance in the matrix of consciousnesses he presided
over.
“Well…So much for that plan.”, Cutman sneered, his usual bravado
suddenly returning to his demeanor. Carelessly, he pitched the
now-useless detonator to the side.
“What the hell was that?”, Needle grimaced. “Was that some kind
of bomb?”
“…How annoying.”, Mesmer relented, knowing what really happened
by now, eliciting a forced chuckle from Cutman.
“What’s going on?”, Topman meekly inquired.
“I’d like ta know myself.”, Hardy backed up.
“Its very simple.”, Cutman began to offer. “Mesmer here was going
to use my SA to keep the war going, even in my absence. Meanwhile,
he’d come up with something else to provide resistance for when
the SA eventually broke down. Chances are, he hasn’t had time to
create that extra resistance, so he was banking on the SA for the
time being.”
“So…The detonator…?”, SparkChan questioned.
--------------------
“My own Shutdown Code…for the Scissor Army.”“…What?” Snakeman struggled to come up with much else.
“The crazy son of a bitch killed his own men to keep Mesmer from using them.”, Shadowman summarized.
“Yeah, I get that much.”, Snake defended. “I’m just…Whoa.”
“Kyeehe…Disappointing, yes…But a small price to pay. After all, this vile piece of trash represents the very worst of the human mentality- war without end, and self-preservation at any cost. I’d gladly sacrifice the remainder of my army to be rid of this sickening mess of a creature. I can always rebuild.”
“Like hell!”, Geminiman suddenly erupted, descending in a flash upon the unarmed General. He had been itching to surprise the oft-resurrected enemy of humanity since he entered the room, and the mere suggestion that he’d have to go through something like this again, and in such a casual tone…It was too much.
But in a mere second Geminiman found himself pinned against a wall by his face, barely conscious. His weapons clattered to the ground as he struggled to remain focused on the General through the skinny metal fingers that held him so tightly against the mess of wires behind him. It seemed as though he had barely moved in order to pin the former White Knight of the SA in such a helpless position.
Without turning his head towards him, Cutman shared a few words with his new hostage: “I am so far beyond you. Know your place in this battle, boy.”
The entire scene had taken less than five seconds before the General rough tossed the barely moving Geminiman back towards his comrades, who stared in disbelief. The speed at which he had moved simply could not be possible. It couldn’t.
After that, though, it was hard to find the gall to find out for themselves if this ethereal quickness was for real or not.
“All of you should know your place here now.” Cutman proclaimed after his demonstration. “This is between he and I- you’re simply in the way. If need be, I’ll kill all of you to get to him, so you can either wait here and die in line or go home and savor what precious time I’d allow you to have.”
“OR…”, Mesmerman interjected. “You can bear witness to ‘Plan B’!”
Behind the puzzle robot, a mess of tubes and wires parted by themselves under Mesmer’s will, eventually revealing a large oval set inside the wall. It didn’t take Cutman to realize what it was, and Gauntlet and the others soon recognized it as well from the plans of its construction they had found months ago.
“It’s the…device…”, was all Gauntlet could say to identify it with.
“Mesmer…You must truly be a fool if you’re going to resort to THAT.”, Cutman grinned.
But inside, Cutman certainly wasn’t grinning. That was the inter-dimensional portal he and Mesmer had designed. He allowed Mesmer to contact his own legion in his home world to construct a mirror image of this machine to create a bridge between the two worlds. Originally, he had meant for this to be a back up plan in case things had gone awry. In this home world, after all, the original Scissor Army was all that remained, and they’d certainly be able to topple whatever resistance proved to be too much for the new SA.
But now, Cutman cursed himself for allowing this to happen at his own request. Surely, Mesmer had something lined up on the other side of that portal, since Cutman could not travel freely back to that world and oversee things personally. Without Mesmer’s dark energy to power it, the machine simply wouldn’t work.
In retrospect, it was a huge design flaw. It took Cutman three seconds to re-imagine a new power source for the machine- something he’d have to put in place once this mess had been sorted out.
With a slight click and a growing hum, the portal started to power on.
“No!”, Shadowman screamed, dashing towards the machine. He had realized that reinforcements for either one of these monsters would mean absolute defeat for them and the rest of humanity at this point. He would not allow this to pass.
But in a blink, he was pinned against the wall, much like Geminiman was a minute ago.
“Stand down!”, Cutman ordered the rest of the Mechs. “Its too late! The machine has already established a connection with the world on the other side. Destroying it now would create a black hole between both of our worlds!” claimed Cutman.
“So you say!”, Shadowman grimaced as he struggled to free his neck from the General’s grasp. “But are you just saying that to keep us from blocking your new troops from arriving?”
“You tell me.”
It was clear that Cutman was referring to Shadowman’s own genius chip. At this beckoning, Shadowman hesitantly flipped it on and reviewed the situation. In a few seconds, Gauntlet had his answer, and he disengaged the chip.
“Dammit…”, he uttered. “Maniacs, stay away! He’s right!”
While they weren’t in a hurry to destroy the machine before, since Shadowman was effectively held hostage, they were forced to comply now. Flippantly, Cutman roughly released Shadowman, the two locked in a death stare for a moment as Shadow cautiously regrouped with the others.
“Whadda we do now, boss?”, Hardman asked Shadowman, who was rubbing his throat.
“We wait. The machine will only stay on for a few minutes before it burns up. We can only hope that no one from the other side is there to go through it.”
Sure enough, after only two minutes, the portal was starting to fail, with smoke emanating from random places in its delicate-looking construction.
But then, just as the machine looked to be breaking down, something shadowy and dark was seen in the distance in the bright white glow of the portal. The entire room seemed to hold their breaths collectively, save for Mesmerman’s, who’s face only seemed to bear a curiously larger grin. Even Cutman seemed to be chuckling a bit to himself.
Send me someone, Mesmer. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve brainwashed them in my absence- my will is law to them! Bring them here, and learn the folly of your ridiculous plan as I use them to kill you and these pests with ease.
The figure took shape- clearly that of a humanoid, though details remained murky. The machine was really beginning to fail now, and the portal was now showing a blinding, erratic light- like a candle burning brightest before burning itself out.
In a flash, the portal was gone, the machine signaling its death with a shower of sparks. The brightness left everyone snow blind, then everything seemed a bit darker than before. It was a while before they noticed someone had indeed made it through the portal.
Breaths continued to be held.
Cutman’s chuckle was now clearly audible to everyone else as he looked over the sole arrival. He certainly couldn’t ask for a better “foe” from Mesmer.
“Mesmer…You absolute fool. Of all of the SA to import, you brought me the most loyal of all.
Colonel Red…How nice to see you again!”
The crimson cloaked figure was crouched on the floor before the broken down portal, seemingly recovering from his trip. His face was pointed downwards, with a mane of messy hair protruding in any direction it wanted to. Underneath the cloak, the only body parts visible were gloved hands and boots, colored a worn and dirty brown with many tears from a hard life of fighting.
Mesmer’s own chuckling gave way to quiet observation.
“Colonel, if you’d be so kind, I’d like you to introduce yourself to your latest victim- Mesmerman.”
“So…This is where you’ve been hiding?”
It was strange to hear his own words, thought Cutman. Was it a sign that Mesmer was actually controlling Colonel Red?
But…something else was off. It was…the voice.
The Mechs seemed to pick up on it, too. That seemed strange, because to his knowledge, Cutman knew that the Mechs had never even met the Colonel before.
“Its been over ten years, General.”, the voice affirmed. “Ten years since you and I last met face to face at Elysium.”
Cutman’s eyes seemed to register a severe degree of shock; NOW he knew who this was. It certainly wasn’t his Colonel.
As the figure stood up, the Mechs were awash in shock- some of them showing a degree of heartache, while some showed a slight hint of elation.
“You really are a persistent little gnat.”, Cutman seethed.
“Is it really him?”, Spark whispered.
“Kind of.”, Shadow whispered back. “It’s the Gary from Cutman’s world. And they don’t seem very fond of each other.”
Shadow had to bite back a few hiccups of raw emotion- the last thing he expected to see here today was the image of his departed best friend.
“And I suppose you’re here as Mesmerman’s puppet?”, Cutman asked his long-time nemesis. But Mesmer himself answered for him:
“There was no need to control him! He has such an unbelievably strong amount of loathing for you that all of my manipulation couldn’t even hope to match it! What a perfect specimen to use against you!”
“He taught me how to build this machine. He promised me that it would one day lead me to you, and that I’d be able to get my revenge against you for a decade of death and misery your so-called haven has inflicted on the world. I can see now that my wait beside it for a year has been completely worth it.
Thank you, Mesmerman.”
“Oh, and so welcome you are, my boy! Now, by all means, get your revenge!”
The Maniacs seemed to ally with Gary instantly to help him defeat Cutman. Maybe now, they could beat him, and then Mesmer if they all combined their efforts.
But Gary wouldn’t have it.
“Back!”
Suddenly, the blood-red, dirty cloak roared to life, cutting a swath across the floor between he and the Mechs, warning them to stay away.
“Gary! What’re you-?!”, Snake shouted over the cloak’s power.
“I don’t know what hell this monster has given to you, but I’m sure mine is many times as worse. In my world, you’re all dead, thanks to this complete son of a bitch. In that place, I’m the only one left. I’m all alone.
I’ll avenge my friends, humanity, and your own suffering…But I’ll do it by myself!”
“You seemed to have a bit of a gift from my Colonel, brother.”, Cutman called “Red’s” attention back.
“Yeah…He and I fought two years ago, and I managed to take him down. In the end, he whispered your name, if that’s any condolence to you.”, he said, bitingly. “Now I’ve got the perfect weapon to use against you- your own trusted lackey’s cloak. Make no mistake- you’re finally going to die today.”
“Well, ‘Iceman Red’, you certainly seem confident in yourself…But then again, you were the last time we met, and I seem to remember things ending a bit less like me dying, and more like all of your friends being killed instead.”
Gary’s mind flashed back to that day. That day on Mount Elysium- a day that was to be the world’s last chance against an unstoppable killing machine in the Scissor Army. So many people died on that day. He…He couldn’t save them then…
Gary looked over his shoulder to the Mechs. They sure looked different here in this world…But he knew they were probably just like his old comrades.
…But he could save them now.
The two took an endless moment to glare daggers into each other, daring the other to make the first move.
“Damnation”, Cutman thought to himself. “With Mesmer watching, I can’t reveal any of my better tricks, lest I give away my trump card against him in the process. It looks like this simpleton will actually get what he wants- a ‘fair’ fight.”
Finally, years of growing frustration erupted from the red-swathed Iceman, sending a wide tidal wave of red menace to crush his oft-nightmare-material foe. Knowing Cutman would nimbly dodge it, he kept the stream of wholly dangerousness going.
Cutman was every bit as fast as he had remembered, and perhaps even more so. But the difference here was that Gary was no longer the beleaguered leader he was a decade ago, nor was he the troubled resistance fighter. Instead, he was a hardened man, simply destined to gain final atonement for his inability to save his friends when they most needed it.
From behind the wall of crimson, Cutman suddenly emerged, his blades now in hand, as impossible as that seemed. With a sudden twist, the flowing cloak responded to Gary’s knee jerk reaction and snagged the incoming blade in mid air long before they could reach its current host.
A gnashing of steel was heard within the depths of the cloak as the blades were crushed under tremendous power.
“You certainly learned the ins and outs of that specimen quickly!”, Cutman commended, vanishing behind a wall off the cloak only to appear fractions of a second later, a fresh set of blades in hand.
That seemed to pick up interest within the Mechs, who were stuck as unwitting spectators in this awesome struggle.
“Where does he keep on getting those things?”, Snake wondered. “Is he using teleport technology? Or maybe nano technology?”
“Beats th’ shit outta me.”, Hardman struggled to say. It was hard enough just trying to keep his eyes on the bobbing and weaving Cutman, as well as the also aptly mobile Iceman.
Gauntlet, though, had something else imagined, thanks to managed use of his optional genius chip. He didn’t mention it aloud, though, as something seemed a bit off.
Meanwhile, the deepening struggling between the years-old foes raged on to a virtual stand still. Gary’s offense was a near-impenetrable defense, while Cutman’s para-super human speed and stamina ensured he was nearly impossible to catch, and his mysteriously replenishing blades kept Iceman from getting too involved in his attacks.
“As much as we’ve changed, its still like old times, isn’t it?!”, Cutman yelled over the rush of cloak.
“Those are the times I want to forget! And once you’re dead for good, I will…And your precious legacy will be gone with ‘em!”
“Legacy?”, Shadowman picked up. That was the word Cutman used when this whole thing started. He claimed he was above such a concept. Was it possible that at one time he himself bought into the necessity of having a legacy?
“I’ve already established my legacy again, here in this universe!”, Cutman answered back. “And today, I’ll merely be capping it off! I simply have to end Mesmerman to ensure it all goes according to plan!”
“Mesmer!”, Shadowman suddenly thought. Instantly, he began to search around the room for him with his eyes, but he came up empty-handed.
“Problem, boss?”, Hardy noticed his leader searching around instead of being focused on the violent chess match before them.
“Where’s Mesmerman?”
Hard too looked around the room, getting more and more erratic as he found nothing. “Dammit! He slipped away!”
“Not good. Snake!”
“Already on it.”, he responded, having sent out his Search Snakes to seek out the MIA Mesmerman.
“This must have been Mesmer’s plan all along! He diverted our attention away from him just long to enough to get away!”, Needle theorized.
“No…Not to get away. He could have done that at any time right before our eyes.”, Shadowman rebutted. “He’s still here, but he’s up to something. We’ve got to find him before he-“
“Got him.”, Snakeman announced. “He’s in some sort of observatory just behind those wires. Looks like there’s a vault door blocking the way in.”
“Hard, we need you!”, G quickly responded with.
“All over it.”
Suddenly, though, it dawned on Shadowman that the Mechs just wouldn’t be enough to stop Mesmer. Not when he’s in his own domain and fueled by a limitless supply of energy.
Hesitantly, he did the one thing he thought he’d never do:
--------------------
“G-Gary, stop! We need him!”The two, still utterly absorbed in their duel, didn’t hear the plea, or perhaps, didn’t bother to respond to it. This was far more important to either one at the time.
“Cutman! Mesmerman’s getting away!”
Gauntlet’s demands for attention still went unheard.
“Dammit…The world is collapsing, and all you two can do is kill each other?!”
“I’ve already been through this, thanks to this one.”, Gary finally acknowledged. “One murderer must be dealt with before the next!”
“That’s bullshit! Are you going to tell me that you’ll let another world be destroyed just to satisfy some sort of revenge?!”, Shadowman tried to appeal to the honor his own friend had in his soul. If this Gary was anything like the man he knew, it’d have some sort of effect on him.
“What do you know about revenge?!”, Iceman screamed back between attacks with his cloak. “Have you ever had the burden of having to atone for eleven billion deaths on your shoulders?”
“I might, if you don’t drop this crap for just a little while! If you don’t, Mesmerman’s going to do to this world what Cutman did to yours’, only worse!
I don’t know exactly what happened in your universe, but if you’re anything like the Gary I knew, I think…No, I KNOW you don’t really want to see anyone suffer like you have!
…PLEASE!”
“What say you, ‘brother’? He makes for a very compelling argument, if I do say so myself.”, Cutman remarked, still navigating through thick tendrils of the deadly cloak. His sardonic tone probably wouldn’t help, and that elicited a sharp eye from Shadowman.
Slowly, though, the cloak’s actions became less erratic and violent. Something within Shadowman’s words appealed to the long-lost human side of this Gary, which he had believed had all but died ten years ago.
Quickly, though, Gauntlet had to confer with Cutman, who seemed to bask in triumph. He was needed, after all.
“Cutman…Your virus…The one you had been working on to take out Mesmerman…”
“Ah yes. I assume you tried it, hm?”
“It didn’t work! Dr Cossack and Light both tried their hand at it, but no dice. It seemed to work, but as you can see, Mesmerman is still alive. There has to be some sort of trick to it!”, Shadowman demanded to know.
“Oh yes…There IS a trick. Its something I never wrote down, and kept only in the safest of places.”, Cutman claimed, tapping a finger to his cranium.
“Do you have it here?”, Shadow asked.
“Of course.”
“Then we need to upload it ASAP!”, Shadow yelled at him.
Cutman’s next laugh was an especially maniacal bout.
“Upload? Did you really think it’d be something so…trite? No, this requires a far more…direct approach.”
“Boss! Th’ door!”, Hardy called out in strain.
Quickly, Shadow, Cut, and Ice all turned towards the pained voice. While Hardman had finally breeched the door’s seal, an intense and very visible current of dark purple energy was flowing from the room, searing the big blue battle tank’s body as he struggled to keep the door open.
“Mesmer’s in there…”, Shadowman quietly observed.
Cutman silently walked towards the door, but not before getting his arm grabbed by Iceman.
“I have a RIGHT to kill you! It doesn’t matter what you do in there- when you get out, your head is mine!”
With a smirk, Cut freed himself from his grasp and returned towards the door before stopping just before it.
“Gary.”, he uttered, his back turned towards him still. “You don’t seem to understand…”
“Understand what?”
“That I’ve so completely and utterly…WON.”, he proclaimed as he turned his head just enough to make eye contact with him. He practically glowed in sick victory, knowing that this man was doomed to fail at his one goal in life thanks to him, and he would ensure this by SAVING, rather than killing.
“What?!”, Gary snarled in response.
“I suggest you hurry off now. The bombs I planted on the other side of this satellite are bound to go off any minute now.”
And just like that, he slipped in, effortlessly against the horrendous energy current, and out of Gary’s sight. Hardman, who had been suffering against the full force of the current, nearly collapsed, his outer shell smoking an unnatural violet plume.
“BASTARD! You don’t have the RIGHT to die saving ANYONE!”, Gary screamed, his fists pounding relentlessly against the thick door, his cloak clawing away at its smooth surface.
“Ice! We’re outta time! We’ve gotta get the hell out of here NOW!”
“NO!”, Gary yelled back. “You can’t take this away from me!”
“I’m not taking anything from you, but if we don’t go this fucking instant you won’t have ANY chance to get your revenge later on! Let’s GO!”
Hardman, not in the best of moods, deftly clonked the parallel universe-version of his old friend out cold, gaining an appreciative look from his boss in the process. Picking him and the injured Geminiman up and over his shoulder, Hardman led the charge THROUGH the rest of the satellite to the emergency teleportation docks without much thought to whatever hull damage he risked in doing so.
The irony was not lost on most of the Mechs that they were essentially depending on their two worst enemies ever to determine their fate. For all of their fighting, this was a bitter pill to swallow. Worst of all, they couldn’t even see it through, thanks to Cutman’s planning. At the very least, though, Mesmerman’s spare bodies would be destroyed in the process.
Thankfully, the teleportation grid was intact up here, and they waited a tense few seconds to be embraced by the wet-feeling glow of safety.
Back in the observatory, the current had stopped flowing against the door, not that it seemed to bother Cutman all that much. As a matter of fact, the General coolly reached into his coat pocket and fished out a sole cigar he had waiting for him for just such a special occasion.
Mesmer’s back had been turned to him, as he was facing a control studio built into this smallish room that featured a magnificent, clear view of the Earth. Four large pillars extended out of the corners of the semi-rounded room and past the glass ceiling towards the world above- these were the transmitters of Mesmerman’s very thoughts to the world on a massive scale.
“Two minutes?”, Mesmerman asked his sole guest. “You’re either being too generous to them, or you’re not being kind enough to yourself.”
“Actually, I lied- We have ten minutes. I wanted to take my time picking you apart and give myself time to evacuate.”
“I don’t need to see into your mind in order to see that you’re lying yet again. Its far less than that.”
Cutman finally found his vintage Zippo and flipped its top open. “Why would this matter to someone who’s about to die, anyway?”
“Just call me curious!”, Mesmer sheepishly squealed. “Speaking of curious, I’m simply DYING to know how you plan on killing me, since your last attempt was…oh, how to word this…PATHETIC.”
“Yes well,” he began, exhaling the fumes from the Havana roll, “I was a bit distracted then, you see.”
“I’ll bet. Having my legs cut off WOULD most likely distract me, if I had to worry about such things.”, the floating puzzle machine quipped.
“You know what your problem is, Mesmer, my boy?”
“What, pray tell?”
“You’re much to linear a thinker.”
Mesmerman paused for a moment before erupting in hideous cackling. The thought of he and his unlimited imagination being labeled ‘linear’ by the goal-driven workaholic before him was too much!
“Linear!”, Mesmer snickered. “What a hilariously bad choice of wording.”
“Yes. Linear. I’m sure that’s the word I intended to use.”
Now Mesmerman began to balk. “Just as you intended to be mowed down by the Maniacs in your own territory?”
Cutman didn’t flinch. This was a sign that he had struck a genuine nerve in Mesmerman.
“By linear, I mean you look at someone and only feel around for ONE psyche in that body.”
Somehow, Mesmer didn’t have anything to say in response to that. While he did find people with split personality disorders, at the very root, they only had a single mind. He didn’t really pick up on what the General was getting at.
“Oh come now, Mesmer!”, Cutman seemed to sneer again. “You didn’t really think I had completely trusted you from day one of our partnership, did you? I’ve been looking forward to this day for a year! It was merely unfortunate on my part that I wasn’t able to make it happen sooner, otherwise we could have avoided all of this unnecessary orbital satellite nonsense in the first place.”
“You’re essentially claiming to have two separate minds living in that oversized dome of yours?”
“You should be flattered!”, the General insisted. “Its not everyday I meet someone who forces me to partition my own mind and dedicate half of my brain to coming up with something to kill just one insolent pest.”
NOW it started to make sense to Mesmer. The twitching he had witnessed from Cutman, which only now was conspicuously absent…His mind was on overdrive throughout the war! No wonder he seemed like even more of a madman than he had assumed he was. It also explained the “blackout” periods, where Cutman’s mind was entirely inaccessible to him- the source of much private concern.
“…Well…”, Mesmer seethed quietly. “I must say I AM flattered. You’ve certainly gone to great lengths just for little ol’ me. Now you’ve got my full attention…So I’m curious…Just what did you come up with?”
Cutman again fumbled about in his lab coat’s pockets, and pulled out another object- a micro disk.
“Ah, I see…That pathetic virus, I assume.”
“Yes. Those fools hadn’t a clue as to how to use it.”
“And you do? Do you expect me to allow you to upload it at will?”, Mesmerman threatened. “Let me tell you- I don’t intend on sitting still for you. Not in MY house.”
Mesmerman’s signature scythe materialized out of the dark purple haze that filled the room. He meant business with it.
“Mesmer, my son…I’m banking on you not standing still for me. In fact, I want you to wriggle and squeal like a puppy that’s about to be euthanized.”
And strangely now, the disk vanished in almost the opposite way of Mesmerman’s scythe, its debris being consumed by Cutman’s own arm.
Curiously, Mesmerman peered closer.
“You’re…”
“I’m the carrier.”, Cutman grandly announced, his body beginning to shift about as if it were composed of sand. “THIS is how you use the virus! You have to be direct!
KyeheheheHEHEHAHAHAHA!!”
With his ever maniacal guffaws, Cutman’s body seemed to fade away, ghost-like, into the haze that filled the room. Now, there was a silvery hue to the room along with the royal violet fog, creating a confusing mess of an arena, even for the Master of Perception.
Mesmer wasn’t about to make this easy for Cutman, even if this had taken even him off his game. His floating body separated as far apart as the room would allow, making for a whirling catastrophe that any outsider would have nightmares of if they even tried to comprehend it.
For a few seconds that were tense even for him, Mesmerman kept an intense vigil in the room, being sure that none of his body parts stayed in place too long. That, however, couldn’t work forever.
“Yeeeaaarrgghhh!!!”
It hurt! It actually…hurt! Real pain!
Mesmer whipped his head around to the place where one of his spheres was being attacked. Madly enough, only a pair of hands had been outstretched from the haze, gripping onto the basketball-sized sphere. At closer glance, Mesmer could see the effects these hands were having on his body- it cracked and started to crumble as its black and white color scheme began to give way to dull ash gray.
“What are…You…”
Cutman’s laugh answered back, its source changing with each syllable, as if it were the wind itself.
“I AM the virus now.
How amusing…You even brought the base of this little experiment I’ve been working on here today. You do have a sense of wonderful irony, whether you were aware of it or not.”
The sphere collapsed into a heap of dust that was soon assimilated into the fog itself.
“What is this?”, Mesmer coolly asked, the sensation of pain giving away to numbness.
“That man. The one with the cape. That cape was something I found in my home world. It took me years to discover what it really was- a sentient collective of extraterrestrial nanomachines. How a blithering fool like Wily came in possession of something so useful is beyond my comprehension, but I was more than happy to take it off his hands and give it to another one of his abandoned toys so that I may observe it.
And now…Here I am. I have successfully replicated and IMPROVED on that alien design a dozen fold.
The best part of it is that it has the side effect of masking my mind from yours by splitting it up into a hive collective! You can’t possibly be in 39 trillion places at once!”
“The virus…”, Mesmerman uttered, trying to understand how this all fit together.
“…Is simply a code I absorbed into my nanite body. It east away at both your programming and your physical form by my mere WILL. Do you have even the slightest notion of how DEAD you are?”
This, however, only made Mesmerman chuckle.
“Death? You think you can bring ME death? Such a task is truly impossible…Unless I will it so! Your technology and your toys are NOTHING compared to the bottomless pit of my own imagination!”
The violet haze within the silver fog began to shake and vibrate all its own as Mesmer’s body drew itself closer, revealing that Cutman had dissolved what could loosely be called a left elbow.
To Cutman, it was clear and logical as to what his enemy was up to. He was going to use his energy to heard Cutman’s form back together for a more direct approach.
It’s a funny thing, though, what loosing your hands can do to your concentration.
Mesmerman let out a mournful scream as Cutman’s fists plowed through his palms, leaving burning, painful holes of ash that didn’t go numb like his elbow had. What remained of his hands felt as though they were dipped in molten gold, a terrible fiery feeling that was soon felt in other places on his person as Cutman repeated the attack.
For perhaps the first time, Mesmerman knew what personal agony had felt like. His mind began to loose that razor sharp edge of perception- his one true weapon.
Suddenly, though, new attacks stopped, allowing Mesmer to simply feel what damage had been done to him.
Mockingly, Cutman allowed himself to appear in full form before him, cigar still held tight by his teeth, smoke pouring out of the many gaps in his jaw.
“Hurts, doesn’t it? Its like I’ve always said; if you’re going to hurt someone, know how it feels first.
Such a rank amateur, you are! No appreciation for the sensation of pain, received or given. I’ve been through hells much worse than what you’re going through, and I’m the stronger being for it.”
“…Ehhh he heeeeeee…Rehh hehh…What a…great gift!
I’ve always…wondered…what something like this…felt like. But nobody…was capable of delivering it to me…
…But!
This simply…Isn’t the end! I have…Ways of coming back…”
Cutman seemed to smirk as he ashed his Cuban.
“Mesmer, my boy…I’ve already made sure that my trusted successors will see that doesn’t come to pass.”
“…Successors? I knew…nothing of any…successors.”
“Heh heh heh…Neither do they.”
Eerily, both of them shared an honest laugh for a moment, both appreciating the fine irony and cunning of it.
“Well, Mesmer, old chum.”, Cutman began as he came down from his snickering. “Its time for you to go away now. And when you get to Hell…let Hitler know that I felt he was much too sloppy.”
“Oh…I won’t be staying long enough to say that!”
“My, won’t you be disappointed, then…”
With that, a short sprint and an upward slash from a manifested set of shears carved their way through Mesmerman’s chest and face, releasing a powerful glow as the outer edges of the cut began to crack and fade to dust, his outer orbs also giving away to the haze.
The General’s hands could barely wait as he dove them into Mesmer’s torso, the wailing much too terrible a sound for any sane human to withstand. His fingers deeply entrenched in the wound, the purple fog in the observation chamber was quickly sucked into the gap, towards Cutman’s fingers.
It was like being caught in the middle of an implosion- the awful wind-like current madly blowing into its master’s dying core. Finally, though, Mesmerman’s physical body completely shattered into a fine ashen cloud, and that too was sucked into the center point the energies collected into, all focused now into the General’s eager clutches.
It seemed to last an eternity, but in only a minute of incomprehensible sound and fury, it ended with but a single being in the middle of the silent room.
Standing up now, slowly, Cutman heaved a short breath and looked at his fingers.
Utter joy swept over his body- a success!
Violet steam seemed to escape from every inch of his body; his mind now completely aware of the beings on the planet down below.
He had done it. Mesmerman’s vast reservoir of dark mental energy was now at his every command. And here he was- the perfect place to put it to use! Mesmerman’s own mass control deck.
Staring up at the Earth, Cutman inwardly laughed uncontrollably. He’d have his true Elysium, even without his Scissor Army! Now, he could simply WILL humans to kill themselves, leaving only the robots to clean it up, whether they wanted to or not.
In time, he knew, they’d come to accept the idea, no matter what stance they had adopted during this cumbersome war. In time they’d come to relish the peace and ever-developing and evolving prosperity a human-free Earth would achieve.
In time…They’d appreciate him.
Now…Here was the one moment he had been looking forward to. Here was-
A terrific explosion. From his own failsafe plan.
The bombs in the cargo bay, teleportation chamber, and power grid, the latter of which knocked out the very equipment Cutman had been descending upon to use.
Damn it.
So…So close….SO CLOSE. If it hadn’t been for that damned…’brother’ of his buying Mesmer time, he could have been out of here by now.
The entire satellite shook with great power from the bombs and their devastating effects. Though they were far enough from the observation room to prevent direct damage, it didn’t matter. Power had been lost, and with it, Cutman’s otherwise perfect plan. In only a few seconds, the remainder of the satellite would be caught by Earth’s pull and then-
…Ah well.
Cutman merely picked up the cigar he had dropped during the initial explosion and put it to his mouth. With a large inhale of the thick smoke, he let out a very relaxed breath, contradictory to what he felt inside.
Upwards he gazed now, to the Earth. It was getting closer now, with streaks of red now caressing the glass ceiling.
“From up here” he thought, “you don’t seem so flawed.”
Cutman spent the last few seconds of consciousness watching the growing fireball that collected on the glass until, finally, it gave way.
It didn’t take long after that.
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