Mechanical Maniacs: Life After Life

By Hadrian (Hardman) Howell

CHAPTER 11: Explosion

I waited until the subway train stopped at the station on the edge of the W District before I tried to get in contact with anyone over the encrypted radios. I ducked into the station's restroom, buying a band-aid out of the dispenser located inside (which also contained painkillers, needles and thread, and a few other bathroom related medications for emergencies), and tried to raise a response as I carefully put the bandage over my nose.

"Anybody out there?" I asked.

It was a worrying few moments before I heard a reply. "We've got problems. I lost the case, but I'm sure it was heading for the Memorial Park. I ended up with an unwelcome insect following me around."

"You too?" came SD's voice. "I thought I was the only one who'd attracted a nutjob. Either these guys are good, or they got tipped off."

"Two's a coincidence, three's a plot," I snorted over the line. "I had a big robot chaser too. Someone definit'ly tipped 'em off."

"Lose them," Needlegal hissed silently, her voice escaping the radio as a bare distinction from the static. "We have a job to do. Who's closest to the W District?"

"I'm 'n th' subway station 'n th' outskirts, but I'm still th' whole damn thin' away fr'm th' park," I said, hoping someone was closer.

"I'm a little pinned down here," Raijin grunted, and I heard a buzzing noise that was NOT static in the background. "There's no way I can get past this guy and into the W District right now."

"My cab has a flat... um... everything," SD admitted. "I'm booking it as fast as I can, I think I lost my new friend, but I'm still two Districts away."

"You're up then, Hard," Needlegal said, and I swore out loud, but not over the radio.

"Roger that," I grunted. "Get here 's quick as ya can, guys, an' I'll see if I c'n find 'em."

I stuffed the radio back in my pocket, and emptied out the dufflebag. I shoved the two Barrettas into my coat and the flash bang into my other pocket. I looked at the black 'last resort' box and sighed, shoving it into my back pocket. I left the bag behind in the restroom and looked cautiously out into the station proper.

There was a crowd leaving the station, but not many people coming down. One such person was trying to push his way through the crowd, and he had just what I'd need. I slipped into the throng and made sure I passed close enough to bump into the hapless man. Nobody noticed as I slipped the large sunglasses he'd stuck down the front of his shirt out and into my pocket. Perfect.

I waited to put the things on until I was outside again. They were big and goofy, and they cast a darkness on the world around me that wasn't advantageous in the overcast day, but they concealed the bandage and drew attention away from my broken nose. Good enough for now.

The streets of the W District had been cleared of motor vehicles for the event, so the press of bodies was less dense here, even though the crowd was still tremendous. I already knew that there'd be a cordon for a block in every direction from the Memorial Park area, and that the press would only be allowed a very small distance past that cordon, so my search was limited to a very small area of buidlings that could be gotten into and were still close enough for a bomb to do damage to the assembled leadership.

I walked as fast as I could without attracting attention. If Concreteman had half a brain, authorities would be looking for me, so I needed to keep a low profile for the moment. I weaved through the crowd, trying to make good time without bothering anyone. It wasn't as easy as you'd think.

I managed well for a few blocks before I bumped into somebody with a suitcase. We murmured our off hand, nervous, have-other-things-on-our-minds 'excuse me's and both of us moved on. It wasn't until a moment later that it hit me, and I turned around to watch the suitcase carrier vanish into a cheap, high-rise motel.

Son of a bitch. LUCKY old man.

I followed after him, silently. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, and I managed to squeeze through before the door closed, using the sound of his own ascent to mask my footsteps. I kept to the far wall of the spiralling stairs so he couldn't just look down and see me, and soon I heard a door open. I leapt up the remaining steps in time to see the door to the eighth floor close.

I shut out the pain in my nose and the returning stitch in my side, and slowly opened the door. I caught a glimpse of the man as he entered a room with a key he apparently already had. I knew I had the right guy because he kept nervously glancing up and down the halls to see if he'd been followed.

He rushed into his room and I stepped into the hall to watch which door closed. Room number 832. I moved slowly, a brief thought crossing my mind to inform the others that I'd found our guy. I ignored it. It was only one guy.

There was a 'do not disturb' sign on the door. Cute touch. I took a few steps back, drew both Barrettas and relaxed before rushing forward and putting my shoulder into the door. The frame gave before the door did, the lock rendered useless by a new hole in the side, and I crashed into the room, springing to my feet and taking aim into the bathroom with one hand at toward the beds and window with the other. A fairly standard hotel room, all things considered. Cramped.

The man I'd followed gave a shout and drew a gun of his own that he didn't get to aim. I fired first, and the shot took him in the shoulder, the force of the bullet spinning him around and down. His head hit the wall before his body hit the floor, and he was out like disco. The room proved to be empty of anyone else, and I approached the suitcase.

Whatever explosive was in there, it was probably on a timer, and opening the suitcase would probably be a death sentence. NOW was a good time to call the others, I decided, grabbing the radio out of my pocket.

"Guys, I have th' suitcase, an' th' guy carryin' it 's down, prolly fer a while."

"Good job Hard!" SD crowed over the radio.

"Now what?" I asked.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

"Get it out of the building. Out of the area! Link up with SD and get Raijin out of his jam. Maybe he can disarm it," Needlegal said, although she didn't sound optimistic.

Understanding I could literally go sky high any moment, I just nodded numbly before remembering myself. "Right. Tops, Meet me at th' west edge o th' W District."

"Roger that," SD replied.

I reached out to pick up the suitcase, and grabbed the handle. I'd have done more, but something bit me, causing me to pull back out on instinct. Blood welled up out of my fingertip.

Then the suitcase beeped. And it spoke. "DNA confirmed as Howell, Hadrian." Then it snapped open to reveal nothing inside but a small viewscreen. The screen flickered to life and a familiar face appeared.

"Congratulations, Mechanical Maniacs," the Middleman said with a grin, his voice tinny through the speaker of the viewscreen. "you've managed to stop a fake explosion. Well done." The sarcasm was thick, and his tone was mocking.

He continued, though. "It took a lot of work to find all of you. Well, the ones that were still alive. And I went to painstaking lengths to set this entire operation in motion. I really wanted you all here, as the guests of honor. The only people left alive who could understand the significance of what I am about to accomplish."

My blood ran cold as he grinned. Then the viewscreen shut off.

"Guys," I said into the radio, "we've got trouble..."