Mechanical Maniacs: Life After Life

By Hadrian (Hardman) Howell

CHAPTER 7: Plot

It was a week before our 'go date.' For reasons that escape me, we were running a drill.

'Drill' is a general term. It's like dress rehearsal, except that instead of Macbeth, we were supposedly bringing mass panic and chaos to the world by neatly removing not only a large amount of its leaders, but also some very expensive architecture.

At 10:00 am on the day we were doing this, I was to leave my apartment in the Rezatium and go to the Monsteropolis airport. There, I was going to meet a man who would hand me a briefcase, presumably containing something nasty. He would know me because, well, the streaks of gray and the wrinkles would pick me out, supposedly, as a business man who'd lost his luggage and was coming in to claim it.

Getting this done by 11:00, I was supposed to meet SD and Needlegal outside. SD would be posing as a taxicab driver, and Needle as a woman who had just arrived in Monsteropolis and also needed a cab. We were apparently supposed to pass ourselves off as a man and a woman who'd just met and I, like a gentleman (yeah, right) had offered to help her find her hotel. All three of us in the cab, we'd take it to the Unity District, the Monsteropolis central hub for government where Raijin, having infiltrated the security post, would allow us through.

We would take the cab to the City Records building, and meet a man out front who would take the case from us and pass it along to another cell of the operation.

The President and all of the other dignitaries were set to be dead by 2:00 pm.

Needlegal's plan picked up where the Middleman's left off. After Raijin extracted himself from his stolen spot in the security post, he would follow the suitcase, providing us with updates through a set of encrypted radios we'd managed to get our hands on. Sort of handheld versions of our old team comm. Needle, SD, and myself would go our seperate ways as per the Middleman's plan, and use our dispersal to move with and box in wherever the suitcase ended up, where we could move in, hopefully with enough time to save the world from leaderless turmoil.

15 years ago, this was all in a day's work.

Now? We were having to practice, a lot.

The practice was actually Needlegal's idea. The Middleman's plan was laid out on paper, and he went over it with us in the confines of my apartment. Once he was done reviewing the plan with us and his attention was focused elsewhere, we'd split up and get to the City Records building our own ways, meeting briefly and discussing possible target locations for an explosive device that could get close enough to a few projected places where all the dignitaries would meet for press photos and general public appearances.

We had a short list, too. Monsteropolis park was a few square miles of lush woodlands, and encompassed all of the T District. Despite its natural look, it still had plenty of access and outlets, which meant a meeting there would be more than possible. Also on the list was the Memorial Park is the W District, a high platform over a set of stairs, each step etched with the names of the men, women, and children who fell victim to the Scissor Army in the last great war. The platform at the top overlooked the ocean, and was well equipped to accomodate crowds of people.

There were other places as well, but in my mind those were the two most likely. Today, we were running our drill as if Raijin was directing us toward the Memorial Park.

We went our seperate ways, almost in a routine manner. I kept to alleyways, mostly, only walking out on the main streets and sidewalks when it was unavoidable. It was a trek across five Districts to reach the W District, and even then I had to cross the whole thing to get to the Memorial Park. I vaulted over the wall of the Unity District and into the M District, using a dilapidated back alley with a few well disabled security cameras to mask my exit from the higher security of the government sector.

On the other side of the wall, in another, very similar alley, I tore back a well placed tarp and checked the dufflebag inside. Two pistols, four spare clips, and three flashbang grenades. Not top of the line technology, but enough, hopefully, to stop a few terrorists from setting off a bomb. On the real day, I'd be taking the duffle bag with me, but for now I was content to replace the tarp and get back to tracing out my path.

I followed the shadows of a major drag in the city through the M, H, and F Districts, taking a detour through a few choice back streets to avoid each District's Monitor's Tower. That would have brought a level of scrutiny that would be, to use a mild term, unwelcome.

I descended into the subway system, catching a train from the F District to the edge of the W District. In truth, my laziness showed here rather painfully. The only deviation in my path at all was when I arrived at the subway station, where I'd grab a train to wherever I was being directed to. Fortunately, the others either didn't know or didn't care, since I'd arrive on time and in place.

I left the subway station in the W District and hit the alleyways again, making good time. Even from a few blocks away, I could see the grandiose architecture that supported the Memorial Park's platform. It was an impressive piece, which means something coming from a guy who's been around for a while and seen a lot of things, up to and including a spacefaring gothic castle, a giant, world devouring monster, a walking city block, an army of walking machines bent on the destruction of the human race, and a psychotic white monster with a maniac grin and the evil of an entire world powering his humorless whims.

... What? I've been around for a while. So?

I caught sight of SD as I approached the Memorial. He was still driving the taxi cab. I guess I shouldn't feel bad about being lazy. By the time we all met up at the Memorial, he'd ditched it and was strolling happily along, not a care in the world evident on his features.

In stark contrast to the focused seriousness of Raijin or my own tired old bitterness, SD had aged... well, a little more carefree. He had always come off, and indeed WAS, younger than either of us, and exuded a kind of optimism that had been absent from the last few months the Maniacs had been together. He wasn't rolling everywhere like he used to, but at least he was wandering around with a spring in his step.

"Not bad," Needlegal nodded as we came together at the foot of the stairs. "Good run."

"Good t' hear," I grunted. "C'n we find a place ta sit 'r somethin'? My feet 'r killin' me."

"Wow, you really ARE getting old," SD laughed, walking over to the steps and taking a seat.

"I don't need remindin', short stuff," I told him, following suit. "What about you? What're ya, in yer thirties now?"

"Better than being in my fifties."

"Late forties," I countered.

Raijin laughed, one of the few times I've heard him do so recently, as he sat next to us. "I feel so much better after listening to you two go back and forth. Makes me feel comfortable with the idea of getting older."

"I'M not comfertable with it."

"It just reminds me of how long its been since we all had a chance to just relax," Needlegal said glumly, also sitting on the steps. The four of us stared into the sky, still somehow beautiful for the city's smog and the rising architecture.

"World ain't much made fer relaxin'," I said after a while, leaning back and shutting my eyes.

"Says our token alcoholic," SD said. I could visualize the grin on his face.

"Still," Needlegal said, distantly. "You guys remember the Quarter Knights?"

Raijin groaned. "PLEASE don't remind me."

"Why not? It was the last really enjoyable enemy we had. Everything after that was mind control and warfare, it seemed."

"Yeah, but everytime I think about that particuar period of our lives, I remember Lennon's attempt to make the most of fangirlism."

SD, Raijin and I shared a collective shudder. "Yeah, I'd blocked that one out," I grumbled. "Thanks fer remindin' me."

"There was that trip to Vegas," SD put in.

"Wait, what?" Raijin asked.

"You were doing something else. Needle, Hard and I went out to Vegas, lost all our money, and extorted a business consultant for the MGM Grand to get back to Monsteropolis."

"Oh, I remember that. Th' fight with Riffman?" I said, grinning. "Interrogatin'... who was that guy...Valter? I haven't had that much fun a while..."

"Didn't you make him pay for the repairs on your bar?" Needlegal asked me.

"Yeah, but I ended up using th' money fer th' hospital bills."

"Ah."

There was a long silence while we all remembered what could only be called the good old days. I had more practice at it than the rest of them, so I was the first to stand back up.

"Well, if that's all fer th' day, I think I'm gonna go find some grub."

"Don't do anything too dangerous," Needlegal warned.

"Yeah, 'cause I'm th' kinda guy who gets in trouble all th' time."

I walked down to the bus station, leaving the other three behind at a memorial to the last time the world saw the Mechanical Maniacs as heroes.