Kin and Tonic

By C.M. Rich (Magnetman)

     We've got nothin' else to do, so we approach the little guy. I'm guessin' he's not gonna be much help in the answers department, bein' that he's standing atop what used to be a ten story tall apartment complex. It'd sure be a shame if people were still in it when whatever squashed it.squashed it.

     I look at the guy, who's shorter than my "massive" five-foot-ten frame. He's wearin' a black shawl of some kind that covers everything but his head and feet, which are wearin' some black and red shoes with chromed-out square things. His head's wearin' a helmet that, I swear ta God, looks like somethin' outta the Guyver. No, not MacGuyver. Just "Guyver", y'know? Dammit, nevermind.

     Before either of us can say anything that would surely make Ultraman here cry, he sticks out his hand, which is just as dumb looking as his shoes, and Hardy goes bye-bye.

     No, seriously- he made HARDMAN friggin' FLY across the street, through a building, by sticking out his hand. About that time, I said something clever like "oh shit" and waited for my turn.

     Which didn't come. At least not yet. Even though his eyes were hidden behind a visor, I could tell he was lookin' me over, sizin' me up. He doesn't want to just make me fly like my big pal- he's itchin' for a brutal, long fight. This guy came here to fight me, and me alone. I've been in enough stare downs in my lifetime to be able to tell the difference.

     Hard stumbles out of the office building behind me, and is obviously more than a little shocked, a little annoyed at being tossed around like a cow inna tornado. Like a freight train, Hardy's chargin' towards New Friend No. 2 of the night, more than likely with the intention of crushin' him into tar.

     It doesn't happen. Hardy runs right into some sort of invisible wall that's behind my back a few yards, gets engulfed in pain, and thrown back into the office building. It's a neat trick I've seen before, and the only one I know of that could do that ta' big blue.

     "Electromagnetic shield.", I name it. "Guyver" nods once, slowly.

     Goddamn son of a bitch. See, this was a huge problem, and not for me. Probably Hard's one and only weakness was, you guessed it, magnetism. That huge metal frame of his just begs to be schooled by magnetism, which can get inside of his armor and shake his guts up from the inside out. It's happened to me a few times, and it's not a pretty feeling. It hurts Hardman much worse, though.

     Guess this guy really is gettin' his mano-a-mano brawl afterall.

     "Hard, you still with me?", I shout behind me towards the building my favorite bartender is hopefully not taking a nap in.

     "Yeah.", he shouts, a little bit weaker than usual. That jolt musta fucked him up bad.

     "I'll deal with this guy. You look for Smiley, alright?"

     ".Alright.", he says after eyeballin' me for a bit, knowin' I'm tryin' to keep him away from our new friend for his own sake.

     The big trooper gives me a final look and stumbles off to look for the bastard that started this mess, leavin' me to play with my new pal.

     "You're not like 'Smiley', junior. I can tell- this is personal, ain't it?"

     Again, he gives me the slow nod.

     I'll say it here and now before goin' any further- I've made my fair share of enemies, both before and after joinin' the S6. I was messin' up criminal lives long before becomin' Bombman, so it's no surprise ta me that I'd eventually run into a few old friends along the way. That's just the way it is, I suppose. The cost a' doin' good.

     I decide to make the first move once Hardy's out of  

   A pair of softball-sized spheres appear in my hands, ready to be lobbed. I decide to go for the direct approach to see what this guy is all about.

    He dodges. Good thing for him, considering my bombs aren't metal- if he tried ta grab 'em with his powers he'd have been killed right away. Then it'd be a real let down. He's fast, too. Before the bombs even hit the ground where he was standin', he's almost right in front of me.

     I get my arms up to block a high kick. In a flash, he rebounds and sweeps me, causing me to land hard on my shoulder and back. He doesn't waste any time with the follow up, either, as he's right above me with a knee aimed at my sternum. I catch him by the knee and slam him off to my right side.

     He keeps rollin' through the throw, rather than taking it at full force. It's definitely not the first time he's been in a fight. I'm actually glad at this point- most of the dorks I've fought as Bombman rely on their powers only and all have glass jaws. I can't tell you how hard I had Waveman of the fake S6 blubberin' one day with just a little love tap to the chin.

     He's up on his feet before me but stands his ground. He's got both of his arms in front of him, ready to go. Seems like he's starting to take me seriously now. That, or he's trying to use his magnetic mumbo jumbo on me and toss me around like my big blue pal.

     I can feel it now. He's yankin' on my body, my tin bones tinglin' a bit. What most people don't know about Bombman's build is that his armor's actually soft. Now, you might ask, "Why is Bombman's armor soft?", which'll make me explain that it absorbs explosions better. My whole outer shell is like a big shock absorber, designed to disperse energy, rather than try and take a blast at full force with no flexibility. I have no idea what my outer covering is made of, but it ain't metal. My buddy here is findin' that out right now.

     It doesn't take him long to figure out what's up, so he bails on the idea of tossin' me around. Good thing he seems to be new at this magnetic sctick, otherwise he'da realized he could grab my skeleton instead a' my outer armor. I'm not about to wait for his next trick, so I whip up another set of bombs and get to lobbin'. Needless to say, I'm a bit surprised when I see my bombs ricochet off of him and explode a few yards away. That's weird as hell, considering I didn't change anything about 'em from the last time.

     Man, this guy's full of neat tricks. I can see how he did it now- he's got some kind of black dust swirlin' around him, actin' as a different kind of shield. The dust whips around him for a few more seconds, as if to show me what it can do, then comes after me. It goes low first, plowin' into the rubble at my feet as I jump to the side. Whatever it is, it's pretty damn powerful, as it smashes through the wreckage with ease. I'm not exactly anxious to see what it would do to me.

     It's back after me now, nippin' at my heels as I run towards Mr. Guyver. I jump over him as he just stands there, not movin' a muscle. My plan backfires, as his black dust of doom harmlessly flows over his body like water. I try whippin' a bomb while his back is to me, but the dark stream snatches it and carries it along for the ride, blowing up almost in my face.

     I'm blinded for a few seconds as the dust smashes into my chest, crushing me against a wall. It keeps goin', keeps tryin' to erode my body like a natural force. I don't have much of a choice, so I detonate a bomb right in front of me, scattering the dust.

     I fall out of the fresh hole in the wall, more than a little winded by nearly having the life crushed out of me. It's about this time that I realize things aren't goin' as well as I had hoped.

     For whatever reason, my enemy recalls his swarm. I don't know why, but he seems to want to keep this fight from ending too soon- he could have kept after me with that swarm and killed me in due time, unless I had thought of something. No.He's enjoyin' this. That cold feelin' in my stomach grows a bit more.

     He charges me again, this time with a straight punch. Well, to his credit, it's a hell of a punch. I don't know what he did, but his fist moved a lot faster than it should have. And with a lot more force, too. I get out of the way by a hair's width as his fist absolutely decimates the wall. In a rare athletic move, I roll over him while he's hunched over his fist, back to back, land on his other side, and smash my knee into his extended elbow.

     It's about time I land a clean hit on him. He shouts from behind his helmet- the first time I hear his voice- and grab his arm. He surges his power real quick, creating a bit of a magnetic wall of force to knock me back in an effort to buy himself some time to recover.

     I take advantage of the rest time, cause I'm still a bit woozy from the dust swarm attack a few seconds ago. He's shakin' his arm, tryin' to knock the ache out of it while I re-collect the air into my lungs. Or whatever a Robot Master has instead of lungs.

     My pal seems to be taking this even more seriously now, as he tears his midnight black serape from his body. Something I obviously suspected from the start was confirmed as soon as he

     "Magnetman, huh.", I state. I don't get a reply, but its pretty obvious at this point. The outfit is different, but it's still recognizable without the cloak. Makes sense, bein' that the other Mechs recently got a big upgrade and are sportin' fancy new armor. His powers are a hell of a lot stronger than the last time I saw Mags, whom by now I assume is either under someone's control, or has just gone nuts. Hey, it happens every now and then. I'm just wonderin' what the hell I did to him to make him so pissed off at me.

     Mags straightens himself upright and clasps his fist shut a few times, testin' it. I've just about caught my breath when he starts the fight again, shootin' somethin' out of his left arm. I'm not sure if its his Magnet Missile or what, but it tears into my side. The fact that it didn't explode tells me it wasn't his missile, but it sure as hell shredded me up bad. It seemed more like a bullet than a missile.

     Mags is right in front of me faster than I can keep up, and takes me down in one quick, almost effortless move. He hits me in the back of the head as I'm fallin' down, causin' me to land harder on my chin. During the fall, my arm shot out from behind me, which he grabs, nails with a nasty kick, and then kicks me right in the side that was hit by his previous attack.

     I'm inna world of hurt now. I may be a robot, a very human lookin' robot, but I can still feel pain. And right now, I'm feelin' it pretty bad. I'm on the ground, holdin' my side with my good arm as my injured one just kinda lays there, almost lifeless. Somethin' in it is broken or jammed up pretty bad, that's for sure. My fingers are barely movin'. As I'm coughin', the prick starts lightly kickin' my head- not to injure me, but to taunt me and piss me off even more to get me to make another mistake. I know this game.

     I roll into a seated position as he backs away, slowly walkin' circles around me like a lion eyin' a downed zebra. I figure now's a good time to lose the raincoat I've been wearin' since I left HQ and headed to Hard's Bar. I carefully peel it away from my injured arm, discretely planting a small bomb in the sleeve as I do so. In one quick motion, I ball up the coat and toss it at Mags.

     Its an old trick, but it caught him by surprise. He instinctively catches it, and before he can really realize what my plan is, the bomb goes off, and his upper half is engulfed in a bright amber haze. It's a bit too bright for me, and I'm forced to look away.

     I blink a few times and rub the spots outta my eyes before I look at Mags. I doubt he's dead, since the bomb wasn't too big, but he sure as hell is feelin' it. Imagine my complete "joy" when I see him still standing there, with his arms still covering his masked face. At the very least, his hands are seriously screwed up and missing most of their outer covering, and his helmet and torso are also really damaged. He adjusts his weight on his feet before attemptin' to stand upright again.

     As he's standin' there, his helmet splits open, like an onion peel. It folds backwards and pivots into a position on his upper neck before closing back up- kinda like the way a Mexican bandito would wear his sombrero around his neck when he wasn't wearin' it on his head. Doc Light sure does design some weird shit some days.

     Then I realize who's under the helmet. I can tell just by lookin' at his eyes, and it's really confirmed when he drops his hands down.

     ".Of all people.", is all I can say. My heart's in my throat now, and that cold feelin' in my stomach feels like Alaska in January.

     "I am glad you remembered me, Rich'-kun'. I remembered you, obviously.", the guy rattles off in a thick Japanese accent. His dull eyes are locked onto mine, and he has the most grim look on his face, which has probably been there since the fight began. Can't say I blame him.

     "I never thought you'd ever get picked to be a Robot Master. Small world.", I say.

     "Small world? Hardly. It certainly didn't seem all that small when I went through the trouble of tracking you down, only to be turned away when I needed someone.", he argues. He's probably the one person I know that's more bitter than I am.