Mechanical Maniacs: Life After Life

CHAPTER 19: Rebirth


It was a long time before I managed to dig my way. The remaining fires scattered throughout Cityman's corpse were pouring smoke into the already smoggy sky, and the collective dust from all of the collateral damage from the collapse of the massive dragon-monster-robot-thing had cast a normally sunny section of the city into a dark, overcast light. I grunted as I hauled the rest of my mass out of the wreckage, standing upright and looking out into the open air.

My armor was scorched, and I knew I was going to smell like boiling paint-job for a long, long time. Aside from that, however, and a slight case of having too much smoke in my system for me to be overly comfortable, I was actually in good condition. Sometimes, I really, really like being me.

Cityman's collapse had taken place only a mere block away from the Memorial Park, and I could see it clearly. I could see the white steps with the names carved into them stained with blood and oil, streaking heavily as if someone had dragged a body up the steps. I could see the gutted, crushed, and blackened remains of the Abigal tanks that had been sent in to assist us by some unknown benefactor. I could see Galaxyman, still neatly impaled on a makeshift spike, hanging like some dire warning. I could see the rest of the Mechanical Maniacs, some of them even now waving at me, at the foot of the steps and looking toward the top of the Memorial.

What I couldn't see was the Middleman. But if I had to guess, the massive pillar of purple fire that was shooting out of the top platform of the Memorial and into the sky was a very good indication of where he was.

"Aw hell," I said before I leapt down to the street and ran to catch up with my teammates.

I bounded down the street, covering the distance in a fairly short time. "NOW what is he doin'?" I asked as I caught up to the rest. They all bore the scars, scratches and dents of the battle with Cityman, but we all seemed to be in relatively good shape.

"Well, whatever it is, it can't be good," Topman commented. "Shall we go see about putting a stop to it?"

"Sure thing," Geminiman smirked, "now that we don't have to wait for lard butt over there."

"I just saved yer ass from a huge fireball that killed a monster thousands o' times yer size," I reminded him. "What th' hell are ya still makin' fun o' me fer?"

Sparkchan giggled. "Gem and I landed in one of the wrecked buildings. I hit a laundry bin, and Gem landed face first in the sewage pipe."

"Oh," I said. "My bad."

"Nevermind that, guys," Shadowman cut in. "Let's just take out the Middleman and go home."

We all gave voice to our agreement and started up the stairs. It seemed to take a while, but I couldn't explain why. Just one of those things, I guess. Along the way, Snakeman posited an interesting question.

"Okay, HOW is this going to be a challenge? There's eight of us, and he has no legs."

"I never said it was going to be hard," Shadowman said with a shrug, "but it does have to be done."

We crested the top of the platform, and there, hanging in the air like some broken toy, was the Middleman. He was on fire. Purple fire, to be sure, but on fire nonetheless. There was something else, as well. I had to squint to be sure I was actually seeing it, but it seemed like some fine purple haze was rising off the top of the Memorial.

"Seriously, man, give up," Geminiman said over the noise of the flames. "You don't have any toys left to throw at us."

The Middleman gave a weak chuckle. "Yes. I know. I blew it. I got overconfident, and I tried to hard. I should have just killed you each in your sleep without saying a damn word. THAT would have been the smart thing to do."

"Fortunately," Topman said, "the bad guys never seem to be that smart."

"Quite the paradox," the Middleman scoffed. "A world FULL of evil geniuses, and not one has the common sense to just start setting off nukes and hope the heroes get caught in one." He groaned and tried to move his arms, which hung uselessly at his sides. "The terrible part about all of this is that I thought I really had won. I really, truly believed that I had you all right where I wanted you. Wow, was I wrong."

"I think this is the most candidly honest conversation I've ever had with a self-admitted bad guy," Sparkchan mentioned. "What's he up to?"

The Middleman apparently heard this. "Oh, how I wish I could say I was up to something. That I had some last, brilliant plan that I could spring at this moment and destroy you all. Unfortunately, I'm not that smart. I didn't even really know how to use the evil energy properly. I only ever figured out how to make the fire and use it to defend myself, and even then I sucked."

"Preach on, man," Gemini smirked.

"Guys, something is seriously wrong here," Needlegal hissed. "Anyone else noticed his face?"

I had. The whole time he'd been speaking, the Middleman had not moved his face at all except to move his jaw. His mouth didn't even from around his words. Granted, as a robot, that wasn't technically necessary, but the Middleman always had seemed to take great pride in his diction and appearance before. So why not now?

Needlegal was right, something WAS wrong.

"So, who IS the puppet master?" Shadowman asked, his face contorted into the pained expression of a man who already knew the answer and didn't like it at all.

I figured I wasn't going to be a fan either.

The Middleman's head tilted slightly, giving us all a quizzical glance. "Well, let's stop for a second and think, shall we? Who COULD the puppet master be? Who could ever stand to gain from pulling some moron's strings into amassing a vast amount of evil energy right here, on the last remaining fragment of the Eden station?"

"What?" Topman managed, shock in his voice.

"The Memorial was constricuted out of the pieces of the Eden Satellite that actually survived the fall from space," Shadowman explained quickly. "That's why it seems to be impervious to damage. It's made out of incredibly advanced materials and actually projects a sort of force field of its own."

"How?" I asked, a little confused.

"Why, via evil energy of course!" the Middleman exclaimed in a voice that wasn't exactly his own anymore. "The entire satellite was re-purposed by its previous owner to gather and store the stuff, and it has existed here like an antenna for the past 20 years. It protects itself when it needs to out of some basic instinctual programming, and is ready at all times to release its stored energy to a willing user."

"So it's like an evil bank?" Snakeman said. "That explains why he wasn't wearing down before."

"But there's a downside," Shadowman said in level tones.

Now the Middleman clapped. "Why yes! VERY good. No power comes without price, and the price that is exacted is of a very unique nature, as you can see. I... that is, this idiot robot was willing to almost literally sell his soul to the devil to a piece of the big picture and a place in history," the controlling force behind the Middleman forced him to wave his hand as he spoke, even though that shouldn't have been possible. "Unfortunately for him, his place in history will be lost to the greater saga of a different entity. MY saga."

"Oh shit," Magnetman said in realization as we all tensed to react to the inevitable event that came next.

The Middleman erupted, his parts exploding outwards, bouncing once off the ground and soaring back into the sky under the influence of some ungodly power. The individual pieces spun like a tornado that changed from being engulfed in purple fire to a stark collection of white pieces against a dark sky. The flames vanished as the purple haze over the platform intensified. The pieces floated calmly back down to our level and the world around us seemed to turn inside out.

"How the hell are you still ALIVE?" Magnetman shouted, his anger almost visible, even through his mask.

The thing looked at itself. It bore horrible scars that marred its mainly black-and-white complexion. Gaping holes had been carved out of its palms, the ring that pierced its face was cracked and broken (although the shards hung in the air to complete the ring anyway) and whole chunks of its disconnected form were a dull, cracked grey. But there was still no mistaking it. No forgetting him.

And it grinned, a painted-on, unmoving, toothy yellow grin and stared at us with a single, dead, unmoving eye. "We search and search and search, and yet the answers still elude us all. Death HAD claimed me, yet here I am today. Silence fills my empty grave now that I have risen, and yet still there are questions we must all seek the answers to."

"Bastard hasn't changed a bit," I grunted.

"Come come, my friends" came the voice from everywhere, cold and high. "I'm not the ONLY one who's returned from the dead today. I'm almost hurt, actually, that my rebirth hasn't drawn more admiration than disgust. Even YOU must all admit, compared to my former puppet's plan for the world, I'm not so bad."

"So, wait, why'd this happen? Wasn't th' Middleman tryin' ta ascend ta godhood 'r somethin'?" I asked, recalling a conversation I'd had with him before Cityman started making my life complicated.

The white puzzle shrugged, or managed something like it. "I suppose even Evil has taste, and it took a liking to me. I suppose whatever lower power there is that manages this hellish world decided it would be fun to bring me back. Who knows? Who cares? You have the devil you know back, and you're no longer dealing with some third-rate devil you don't."

"I'd still not rather have a devil at all," I said.

"That appears to not be an option," the monster replied. "However, in deference to the day you've all had, allow me to apologize. It was sloppy and mishandled, and I promise it won't happen again. Your satisfaction with our rivalry is very important to me, after all."

"So now what?" Geminiman asked. "We fight, we kick your ass again, and you slink away to make our lives miserable some more?"

"Just like old times, eh?" he laughed. "But then again, no. I am... not ecstatic about the idea of trying to complete some fool's plan FOR him, so I believe I shall actually take my leave of you for now. I have some ends that need untying and loosening, anyway. So, ta ta for now."

There was a silent, purple explosion and suddenly everything was normal. Not that it had been... well, not normal, but the world had seemed to melt and droop and twist a little bit around us during the very surreal encounter with a being we had all assumed was finally destroyed.

And none of us dared to say his name, lest we invite him to return. But it was there, in all of our minds as we descended the steps of the Memorial.

Mesmerman was back.


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