By C.M. Rich (Magnetman)
May 31st, 20XX, 9:51 PM
It took a few hours for Geminiman
and SparkChan to find the near-dead Snakeman, hidden in the ruins.
Using Victory’s own high-powered rifle, which he hastily discarded,
Gemini was able to blast a massive hole through Requiem Mass’s
chest, proving the horrific strength of the cannon.
After which, they sought out the other Mechs, gradually coming
across Topman, and meeting up with NeedleGal, who reported that Hardman
and Magnetman managed to survive the backlash of the magnetic force,
though at a tremendous toll to their bodies.
Classi and Geminiman descended to find Shadowman in the darkness
of the crater, alone. Silent.
Shadowman was gravely wounded, the whole day conspiring to
rack up an impressive array of wounds.
Hardman was barely able to move under his own power, as his
internal generators were almost completely wiped out. Magnetman himself
was in arguably worse shape, as both of his arms had blown themselves
apart when he used too much power. NeedleGal was still barely able to
stand, and she had stayed with the wounded Kenta and Hadrian after their
sacrifice.
Come to think of it, the entire team was much worse for the
wear. Snakeman was full of bullet holes from his marathon battle with
The Judge, as well as the near-mortal wound in his chest from Death.
SparkChan was taxed to her limit after using her electrical power to
protect her family, and couldn’t even manage to perform small
repairs due to her level of exhaustion. Geminiman bore a vast array
of scars, burns, tears, and gashes, as did Topman, who also had numerous
crushed cybernetic organs within.
The entire team looked as though they had fought World War
Three by themselves. Given the possible outcome, though, they may have
prevented it.
Once they had collected themselves, Hardman slurred a rather
important question:
“Boss…What about provin’ our innocence?”
Shadowman stopped for a second, his eye weary. Still, he managed
a very slight smile after a moment’s pause.
“…Already taken care of.”
Geminiman looked at him quizzically with his one good eye,
as did many of the others on the team. None of them seemed to think
of any conceivable way Gauntlet could have cleared their name from this
location, cut off from the rest of the world.
Then again, they were exhausted.
Instead of playing twenty questions, the group silently agreed
to ask later. For now…All they wanted was to go home.
June 1st, 20XX, 1:01 AM, Eastern Standard Time
The Maniacs arrived home…Or what was left of it.
In the day’s events, they collectively forgot about the riot they
left behind, which had invaded and damaged their old/new fortress on
wheels, the Technodrome, to the point where it was nearly destroyed.
The entire front portion of it was torn out and crushed, as if it were
smashed in by a tank, or at least a few cars. That would explain the
pair of burnt out Hummers still abandoned in front of their abode, which
they had to climb past in order to gain entry.
Inside, the settings didn’t exactly look much better. Furniture,
equipment…Everything. Anything and everything was crushed or
missing. In their place was debris, hateful words painted or even carved
into the walls, and remnants of large fires, the smell of which wafted
into their noses as confirmation of the reality of this nightmare.
“…We don’t actually have to deal with this, do we?”,
Topman groaned, his hands in his pockets as he nudged some smoldering wreckage
with his foot.
“We’ll deal with it tomorrow…For now, let’s get some
rest. I think we’ve earned that much at least.”, Gauntlet excused,
Raijin draped over his shoulder.
“Hey, you don’t actually expect us to stay here, do you? Not only
is this place a wreck, but as far as we know, that mob might come back, looking
for us!”, Lennon argued, though at this point, he wasn’t even in
much of a fighting mood. He simply didn’t want to wake up to a lynching.
Gauntlet placed his hand of Geminiman’s tattered shoulder.
“It’s been taken care of.”
“…If you say so…”
The group had no reason not to believe their rock-steady leader
at this point, and after a few uncomfortable moments, they found themselves
in their rooms, which were in as bad a condition as the rest of the
base. Most of the Maniacs slept on the floor that night, but they were
all so tired, it didn’t matter much.
Not a single sound woke them that night.
June 4th, 20XX, 9:51 AM
“Hello?”
The dark suited man cautiously stepped through the rubble of the Technodrome,
one hand resting on his handgun…just in case.
“…Is anyone home?”
“Yes.”
The black suited man jumped a few inches off of the ground as Shadowman
dropped from the ceiling from behind him in his usual fashion.
“Oh…I’m sorry. I always forget that my team is used to that,
but most ‘normal’
people aren’t.”, the ninja robot apologized, still baring his
battle wounds, albeit cleaned up a bit.
The dark-clothed man cleared his throat before continuing. “Ahem,
yes, well…I assume you’re Shadowman?”
“You ‘presume’!”, shouted another voice from another
room.
“Um, excuse me?”, the man questioned, somewhat insulted by the
pretentious correction originating from parts unknown.
“Yes, Top…Please shut up for a few minutes, okay?” , Shadowman
shot back to the wall.
“Sorry!”
“Right…Well…Mr. Shadowman, I’m Agent Evans here on
behalf of the Oval Office.”
“I’ve been expecting you.”, Shadowman asserted.
“Expecting me?”, the agent echoed, taken aback again.
“Not you specifically. I assumed-“
Shadowman caught himself and waited a few seconds before going on, wondering
if the inevitable interruption was really inevitable. Surprisingly, Topman
kept quiet.
“…I assumed (I must have gotten it right) the White House would
send someone over to meet with us. I’m guessing you enjoyed the video
you guys received that late evening a few days ago?”
“Quite.”
“Good.”
The agent held out a discrete envelope to the battle-scarred shinobi, who
was in a stage of repair, parts of his armor still missing.
“This…Consider this an official ‘thank you’ note from
the President for your participation in the…spring cleaning. We’ve
been meaning to get rid of a few old cobwebs for sometime now, but our vacuum
was out of order.”
“…I see.”, Gauntlet stated, taking the envelope in hand.
“Plus…A gift of our utmost appreciation for your…vacuum
repair. It works perfectly now, and is very, very quiet.”
“…So it is. It should stay quiet from now on. You needn’t
worry about it anymore.”
“We’re very glad to hear that, Mr. Shadowman. Very glad.”
“Yes, well…Thank you.”
The two men shook hands at this point.
“I must be off, Mr. Shadowman. Before I go, would you like me to set
up a demolitions crew to help you rebuild your base of operations?”
“No need. We’ll have this place back in shape by next week.”,
Gauntlet claimed nonchalantly as he thumbed through the contents of the envelope.
“Next week? But…Ha ha, yes, I understand. Well…Good day,
Mr. Shadowman.”
“Bye.”
As soon as Agent Evans had left the dilapidated interior of the Technodrome,
Topman, as well as most of the other Maniacs, converged upon their leader
from their respective hiding places.
“…I didn’t understand a word of that, hun.”, Classi
whispered, not wanting to be embarrassed in case she overlooked something everyone
else had noticed.
“Basically, the President says ‘thanks’.”, Gauntlet
summarized.
“Well, that’s cool…What about all of that vacuum talk, though?”,
Geminiman asked.
“The short of it is that the US government knew about the Horsemen, but couldn’t do much about it. We basically, inadvertently, did the
Oval Office a huge solid by getting rid of them.”
“Great….Did we at least get paid for this favor this time?”,
a groggy Hardman inquired.
Shadowman pulled out the contents of the envelope for the rest of the group
to see.
Ten million dollars.
A collective gasp filled the room, followed by banter.
“Hey, hold it guys…It’s not as big a prize as we think it
is.”, Geminiman asserted.
“He’s right…We’ll spend at least half of that just
getting this place back into shape.”, Snakeman stepped forward.
“Well still, that’s almost a mil for each of us after we fix this
joint up…Damn, really does seem pretty small considerin’ th’ hell
we just went through out there.”, Hardman pondered.
“Say, Gauntlet…”, Topman asked. “What was that one
line about? The ‘video’
line?”
Shadowman smirked slightly, then pointed to his still wounded-shut right
eye.
“You know…I always forget you have that thing.”, Snakeman
uttered, a small grin of his own adorning his face.
“Comes in handy.”
“…What exactly did you see that cleared our name, anyway?”,
Magnetman came out of nowhere with, his shattered arms hidden beneath his poncho.
“…I’ll explain it later. For now, let’s just be happy
with the reward money. We sure as hell earned it.”, Shadowman offered.
After some more bantering and postulating on what they’ll do with
their newfound wealth, the Maniacs attempted to do some more clean-up around
the
‘Drome, but decided to get some personal repairs done at Dr Light’s
lab instead.
June 6th, 20XX, 2:51 AM, EST
Two nights later, Shadowman could be found sitting atop the Technodrome
alone, seemingly lost in thought, a disturbed look etched on his face.
“Gaunts…You okay?”
NeedleGal joined her brother-in-robotic-arms and took a seat next to him
to admire the half moon in the sky.
“…No.”
Needle peered at Shadowman. Usually, it was “okay” or “fine”,
even if she knew something was wrong. Never “no”.
“Shadow…You’ve been feeling pretty down since we came back
from LA. What was it…That you saw out there?”
“…Needle. The Horsemen were just puppets.”
The spiny android gave her brother a skewed look as he paused before continuing.
“There was someone else pulling the strings. Someone we’ve really
got to be on the look-out for, but I have no idea what to look for now. He
could be anywhere.”
“Who’s ‘he’?”
“Do you remember that incident the Sinister Six told us about? Their
last big battle before Gary died?”
“How could I forget?”
“The guy responsible for that mess…The guy that had even the S6
by the throats…He’s still alive.”, Gauntlet muttered.
“That ‘General’ person? He was the one pulling the Horsemen’s
strings?”
“Yeah.”
“Well…So?”, Needle said, innocently enough.
Gauntlet whirled his head around to look at her, almost horrified by
her naiveté.
“’So’? I don’t think you understand what a problem
this guy will be. He had such a perfect plot set up that if we weren’t
framed by the Horsemen to begin with, he would have succeeded. I have no doubts
about that.”
“Gauntlet…I think we’ve learned something today…”,
Needle said, standing up and looking towards the city at large, sprawled out
before them.
“There’s always going to be a big bad villain out there. Someone
with some insane plan to take over the world, or take us down. But, that’s
part of who we are. It’s part of our job, our duty. We can’t afford
to get ourselves down, because doubt, in the end, will always be our main adversary.
What can we do but accept and face every challenge with the same energy we
had before? That’s all we can do…As Robot Cops, as superheroes,
or even wanted criminals. We’re…the good guys. It's our job to
win. People depend on us, and that’s all we need to know.”
Gauntlet sat in silence for a few moments, as if soaking it all in. Finally
he stood up. He glanced at his new badge, clipped to his belt.
“Needle…How is it that you know exactly what to say at exactly
the right time?”
NeedleGal smiled in response. “Because…That’s part
of my job, too.”
“…You’re right. I suppose this is just another challenge
thrown out before us. No matter what…We’ll find a way to overcome
it. That’s…our job.”
NeedleGal put a reassuring hand on her brother’s shoulder. “C’mon…Snake
and Top had a few new suggestions for the battle room. I think you’ll
be surprised…”
“Alright.”
The two Maniacs slid back into the base through one of the many hidden
escape hatches on the surface of their mobile fortress.
In the end, Gauntlet, and the others, would still have their doubts as
to how much they really knew about what happened on that chaotic day
in Los Angeles…But what mattered most was making sure it never
happened again. Too many lives were lost for it to be vain.
Diligence. That was their job.
As Mechanical Maniacs.