To Butterfly: It seemed appropriate for them to talk about the game and how they aren't in it (yet)!
To yellow 14: Mecha-Man going freelance is a definite consequence of "The Battle for the Seine." It didn't has quite as much of an impact as I'd expected (Mecha-Man's the only Lynchpin-ion who's actually motivated by money).
To armadas: One or all of them sitting down with him would be a definite plus; it might save him some bumps and bruises. And that would be a good guess! "Lynchpin-ions" came from a reader suggestion on "The Battle for the Seine."
To StarDaPanda225: It is indeed official!
To Lyger 0: When I first started writing this, I didn't realize just how much tragic irony there is to Antoine's story: he is pushed to this extreme (in part) by the very daughter for whom he thinks he's doing it.
Bri peeled the damaged paneling off her suit and tossed it to the far side of the workshop in disgust. The components that went into that arm piece had cost her a week of wages to buy, and her tuition bill was coming due at the end of the month. She couldn't afford to keep replacing damaged pieces of her armor, especially when Mecha-Man was out there and would just damage more of it. And she didn't have the time, money, or materials to replace it now. With a sigh she crossed the workshop and retrieved the panel, fingering the scorch mark that Mecha-Man's cannon had left. It hadn't melted all the way through, but it had come close. Turning it over in her hands she sighed. "Maybe I can get a little more life out of it," she muttered, grasping it with a pair of tongs and holding it over her mini forge until the metal was hot enough to manipulate. She gave it a couple sharp raps with a hammer to smooth out the scoring and plunged it into a bucket of water. A couple bolts and it was back on the suit. She made a note on her tablet to replace it when she had a chance.
She wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, ran her fingers through her hair to pull it away where it had gotten plastered to her scalp, and stretched her neck before pushing her back out to straighten it. One of the workshop windows was cracked slightly open, just enough for a soft breeze to pass through and keep it from becoming too stuffy and overheated while her mini-forge was on. Outside, children who had just gotten out of school were playing football in the alley; the sound of their laughter was almost drowned out by the music pumping through her stereo system at full blast to mask the noises of her workshop. She sighed wistfully. Growing up she had played outside a lot – her friends had loved playing under the Eiffel Tower, racing from one leg to the other or playing football on the Champs de Mars. And yet, even more than playing outside with friends, her favorite pastime had always been working on electronics with her father. She had been three when they built their first transistor radio together. Thanks to him, she could wire a circuit board with her eyes closed before she could ride a bicycle. When she wanted her own computer, her father had dropped a box of parts on the kitchen table and challenged her to build her own. Less than a week later, she'd installed the last chip and booted it up. When she had thought about her future growing up, she only ever wanted to become an engineer like him. She had been all set to attend PSL… and then the spring had happened.
As she reattached the repaired panel to her suit she swallowed against the lump in her throat that had been there for months. Why did he have to choose now to come to London?
"Honey it's getting close to midnight"…
Bridgette scoffed and picked up the tablet which was running a test on the suit's operating system. A quick glance showed a slight discrepancy in the jetpack's thrust control and vectoring. She walked around the suit slowly, a finger on her chin, and hummed quietly as she inspected the jetpack's casing: three of the mountings had come loose. Selecting the correct wrench, she set to work reseating them. She had only finished the first one when the song paused and the police-band radio sitting on top of the stereo crackled.
"Be advised, armed robbery in progress. The Victoria on Edgeware. Armed officers already en route."
Bridgette stared at the radio, her brows furrowed suspiciously. There was no reason to suspect it, but… She quickly tightened the remaining two mountings on her jetpack, her eyes drifting to her bracelet every few seconds. No sooner was the last mounting secure than her bracelet activated. She pressed a button on the bracelet screen, and the bug's feed began. She could just make out the interior of a warehouse. A metal leg appeared in the feed, and a voice said, "Everything's ready. The cops and heroes should be busy for a while."
"As if on cue…" Bri muttered, disconnecting her tablet from the suit and pressing a button on her bracelet.
Five minutes later, Iron Maiden dropped to the ground near King William Street to find Mecha-Man just stepping out of a jewelry store, several bags slung over one arm. A delivery truck idling on the street revved its engine and backed up to Mecha-Man the moment Iron Maiden landed.
"Oh, come on!" Mecha-Man bellowed in frustration. "Why can't I catch a break from you hero types?"
"You want to catch a break from me?" Iron Maiden demanded. She jumped into the air, gave another burst on her jetpack, and hit him in the chest with simultaneous energy blasts from both her arm cannons, pushing him stumbling back. "Stop breaking the law!"
The energy coursed over Mecha-Man's suit and dissipated into the pavement around his feet. He threw the bags of jewels – smoking and browned from the energy that had coursed over his suit – into the truck's open back door. The truck sprang forward as Mecha-Man whipped his arm up and shot an energy pulse at Iron Maiden. She killed her jetpack and plummeted to the ground to avoid the blast, landing directly in front of the truck, bracing her legs, and throwing her shoulder forward. The truck slammed headlong into her, the entire front collapsing in on itself around her even as she was pushed backward, leaving two long skid marks in the pavement. The truck's driver, barely visible through the windshield, punched the steering wheel in frustration.
"Nice try!" she taunted, pushing the truck away from herself and stepping around it to find Mecha-Man standing in front of her. "But you missed!"
"Enjoy it while you can, hero!" shouted Mecha-Man. "You won't be so lucky every time." With that he sprang forward, fist cocked back and already punching forward, aiming for her head.
Iron Maiden ducked under his punch as the pile driver activated, but he jerked his knee up into her chest. The clank reverberated through her suit, knocking her teeth chattering. As he went to knee her again, she grabbed his leg and pulled him off the ground, lifting him into the air, spinning him partly around, and slamming him into the ground on his back, hard. Mecha-Man let out a grunt, aimed one of his cannons at her head, and fired. Iron Maiden ducked the energy beam, pushed the cannon away so the pulse shot directly up into the sky, and retreated a step. Mecha-Man pushed himself to his feet and lunged at her. Iron Maiden tried to avoid him, but he caught her around the waist with one arm, lifting her bodily into the air. She brought her elbow down on his back repeatedly, but without effect. He slammed her down onto the ground flat on her back, knocking her head against the back of her helmet. Lights flashed in her eyes. Mecha-Man crouched over her and pinned her to the pavement with his knee on her chest plate. The metal whined in protest as he leaned his full weight into it. Her chest plate began to cave in, constricting her breathing. He raised both fists above his head, and she quickly shot out one of her grappling hooks, latching it around the streetlight on the opposite side of the street and pulling it out of the ground to fall on top of her. Mecha-Man let out a primal roar and extended higher–
–just as the streetlight smashed into his clenched hands. He howled in pain, shaking his head and groaning as the streetlight clanged onto his helmet with a hollow ring. Mecha-Man grabbed the fallen pole in his hands and held it above his head as a spike to stab her. She lifted her arms to protect her face.
Before he could bring it down, however, a brown dog leash whistled through the air and wrapped around the pole, wrenching it out of Mecha-Man's grip. "Striking the lady when she's down?" chided the Hound, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. He caught the pole in one hand and casually tossed it aside. "Not very sporting of you, is it?"
Iron Maiden pushed the surprised Mecha-Man off of herself and rose to her feet, smiling with relief inside her helmet in spite of herself. "I never thought I would say this in my life, but it's actually good to see you, Hound!" She frowned. "But what are you doing here in the first place?"
He shrugged, eyes focusing on Mecha-Man in a predatory manner. "I was in the area when I heard the 10-43," he explained. A low-pitched growl emanated from his chest. "There was a spot of trouble up north, but the cops have those knuckleheads in chains – they should be in a kennel in a flash! So no problems on that end." He wore a feral grin. "Now there's nothing to keep me from helping the Fer Maiden with her mechanical problem!"
Iron Maiden smiled in relief – though neither of the others could see it – and cocked her fists back in a fighting stance. "What are you gonna do now, huh?" she demanded of Mecha-Man.
Mecha-Man let out a guttural roar and unleashed energy blasts from both arm cannons at the heroes. The Hound spun his leash in a shield, blocking the energy and redirecting it into a fire hydrant on the far side of the street. Iron Maiden ducked below the energy beam and rolled behind the Hound's shield. The energy missed her and struck the jewelry store behind her, carving a hole through the façade and roof.
"Is your aim always this bad, Mecha-Lad?" scoffed the Hound. He turned and raised an eyebrow at Iron Maiden. "Tell me yours is better, mon Fer."
She smirked behind her helmet, dropped to one knee, and activated her targeting system. Mecha-Man's suit was almost entirely light brown… but not all of it. "I'm pretty sure that's just a guy thing, Pup," she replied lightly, firing just below his shield. "My aim's perfect every time!"
Mecha-Man howled as the energy beam hit his leg just below the layer of brown heat shielding. "God damn it all!" he groaned, hopping on one leg. "We didn't want to do this, but fine: we'll do it your way, heroes."
The Hound suddenly straightened up, cocked his head, and spun around wildly in all directions. Iron Maiden, confused, backed up slightly and stared at him in surprise as Mecha-Man rose to his feet to advance on them, his arm cannons aimed at the ground, away from the two heroes.
"Your pal here is hearing our failsafe," explained Mecha-Man. He pulled something out of the compartment on the front of his suit and tossed it at her. She caught it one-handed without taking her eyes off of him. "There are about a dozen more just like that one spread throughout the city." He held up a hand as Iron Maiden started to lunge toward him. "Now, we don't want to blow up London – considering the paltry payoff this job is going to net us in the end, it's not exactly worth it. But we will! But only if you two heroes force us to!" Iron Maiden glared at Mecha-Man, her hands clenching into tight fists. Mecha-Man made a clucking noise and shook his head from side to side. "The bombs have a timer to go off in fifteen minutes," he announced. "Plenty of time for a couple of heroes to stop us or stop them… but not enough time for you to do both." He picked up the front end of the truck and kicked it once to straighten it out slightly as the engine revved. "Good luck…"
AN: "Fer" is French for "iron". "Fer"… "fair"?