Disclaimer: The views and opinions in this story are not intended to be viewed as those of the author. The following is a fan-written fiction. Gravity Falls, Star vs. The Forces of Evil, Kim Possible, and Big Bad Beetleborgs are property of their respective owners, creators, and publishers. Please support the official releases.

TW: This story will contain references to physical and psychological abuse, murder, and torture.

|Machinations|

Echo Creek's Scrapyard held an unusual secret. If one took a walk inside it and went far enough, they would find themselves entering a much larger area of twisted metal piles far larger than the scrapyard looked from the outside looking in. When Dipper and Janna investigated the scrapyard, before Trip and Van's friends attacked them, he had dubbed the region "The Scraplands" based on his initial estimates and Janna's description of the area.

It had been his intention to return to them sooner than later, but consecutive battles with the Magnavores and their growing intensity delayed that just long enough for the worst-case scenario. Noxic, in his search for a spot for his workshop to build a robot army that would take over the Earth, invaded the non-anomalous scrapyard and stumbled into the Scraplands himself.

With a nearly inexhaustible supply of material provided by the Scraplands, Noxic was overwhelmed by the possibilities, and while he had established an initial workshop, he was on a tear speculating about all the things he'd build with it.

"Oh man, Typhus it's gonna be great! There's gonna be a smelter, a fabricator, whole production lines! Not only am I gonna build Scabs, I'm gonna manufacture a whole new line of mooks! And even make improved Combat Mecha! And Jet Fighters! And ships! I might even be able to make a new fortress like the one that fish-faced jerk Vilor yoinked from Vexor!"

Typhus, who sat on a metal stool next to a half-complete workbench in a half-completed empty workshop, watched Noxic bounce around like a manic pixie, gesturing to piles of garbage where he envisioned all those useful pieces of equipment would go.

The mishmash of monster parts tilted his head. "Yeah, that's great, baby, but when are you actually gonna get around to Vexor's order?"

Noxic shrugged his shoulders. "Huh? I got two weeks to worry about that! I can make all the Scabs he wants later!"

"I don't know about that." Typhus folded his arms. "You get to slacking off and then when the crunch comes you rush like crazy and everything you make ain't even half good."

In response, Noxic shrugged his mechanical shoulders. "Yeah, so?" He turned and brushed off the criticism. "It's just Scabs for Vexor. I'll make so many more Scabs than he needs, and he won't even care if they're crap! He's that easy."

Typhus grumbled. "He don't seem like he's in the mood for you messin' around, baby."

He'd blasted Noxic for less, after all.

However, Noxic was going to be petulant about him. "Forget about that Crusty Crab, Chum Bucket! I ain't doing a thing for him until my workshop is ready." He clenched his hands into fists. "And once it is, he'll have to show a little more respect to get what he wants, if you know what I mean!"

Typhus got that and thought it valid, but. "I'm just sayin', we'll have a lot less trouble with him if he has no reason to come to your workshop and blast it in the ground if it's actually up and running to give it what he wants, you dig?"

With a petulant grinding of gears, Noxic groaned and threw up his hands. "Fine! I'm only agreeing because you're right, I respect your opinion, and you're the coolest guy I know!"

A bestial grin spread across Typhus' lips. "Heheh. I ain't half as cool as you, baby!"

Turning around, Noxic looked at his zero percent complete project. "I'll need to get started right away on the construction, but while I'm a master of machinery and you're all the muscle I need… with Jara still down for the count to keep us on pace ain't nothin' gonna get done!"

Typhus grunted in agreement and looked towards a particularly large pile of scrap away from the lab, where Jara stood at the top heedless of the razor-sharp metal surrounding her. She'd been like that since they got here, still grieving over the loss of Saberizer and wanting nothing to do with anyone. He couldn't blame her, the way she talked about him–heck the way they interacted the short time he knew the guy–they had nothing but the utmost respect for each other. Her mercenaries really cared about each other as much as Noxic's creations hated him.

On that note, Noxic had a epiphany. "But if I summoned Ham-Hands, he could do all the heavy metal hammering and I can focus on the engineering!"

That flag was redder than anything Jara wore, to Typhus. "Uhh… Noxic? I don't think it's a good idea to go summoning any monsters, let alone one of your robots."

"No, you see, it's fine!" Noxic reassured him as he had just a few moments ago. "Outta all the robots I made, Ham-Hands hates me the least! It's because he's the most useful see?"

If Typhus had eyebrows, he'd be raising the left one. "Huh?"

"Well, you know how Raketengar hates me because I made his body outta missiles, Gag Mirror's uncontrollable narcissism makes him think he's superior to me in every way, and Rage Grenade can't comprehend why I'd give sentience to a robot whose only purpose in life is to explode?"

Typhus nodded slowly. "… Yeah?"

"Ham-Hands actually likes that he's a construction robot that builds stuff!" Noxic revealed.

Typhus mulled it over. "You sure about that?"

"As sure as I'll ever be!" Noxic promised.

Typhus shrugged his shoulders, a gesture supremely difficult to convey for him. "All right then, you got a comic?"

Noxic reached into his coat and pulled out an issue of The Big Bad Beetleborgs. "As a matter of fact, I do! Okay, Ham-Hands! Come on out!"

Sparks from between the pages of the comic book, showing the Red Strikerborg in the foreground pointing her Striker Plasmar at a distinctly hammer-themed robot lunging at her from the background in what looked like a steel mill. The sparks turned into a jet of flame, coiling from the comic into the air and coming down in the middle of Noxic's lab. The flames grew and shifted, taking the shape of the very same robot.

He was tall, larger than even Typhus. His body was gray and consisted of numerous flexible metal bands that covered his humanoid body save for his armored boots that reached to his knees, his armored pelvis, and a bulky chest plate that covered his entire body that featured a hammer motif–the head of the hammer on his right shoulder and the claw on his left. His hands and head were also of note, with his forearms consisting of a pair of large claw hammers, while his head was an even larger claw hammer, with two lines cut into it: a frowning mouth and a right eye.

The robot looked around the lab slowly, before stopping when it saw Typhus sitting at the workbench. "Who the heck are–"

"Ham-Hands, ol' buddy ol' pal! Am I glad to see you!" Ham-Hands went still, looking like a statue in his immobile state, before he slowly, mechanically turned to face his creator.

"… Nox… ic…" The mecha said.

"In the mesh!" Noxic replied. "It's been forever, or at least it felt like forever, time's weird and I hate it! But who cares about that?! Boy, do I have a job for you!"

Ham-Hands performed an ever-slight jump at that. "A job?"

"Yeah, why else would I call you up?" His creator asked. "I got a lot of constructin' to do and you're bar none the best 'bot for the job!"

Typhus got up. "Yeah, baby! You up to it?"

Ham-Hands turned his whole body to look at Typhus, then did the same to look at Noxic. "You. Want me. To build somethin'?" His voice, bearing an accent not unlike Noxic's though with a slower enunciation, replied to the inquiry.

"Yeah, you up for hammerin' away?"

Ham-Hands nodded slowly, the idea amenable to him. "Yeah, yeah… I'll do some hammerin'... as a matter of fact? I'll start with this nail right here."

Noxic stopped. "Wait, what nail–?"

Ham-Hands reared back and slammed his face down onto the top of Noxic's head, the force of the blow driving his head down into his torso, which telescoped over his waist until his shoulders were level with his hips. The dusty, scrap-strewn ground cracked under the shortened robot's feet, before he fell onto his back flailing.

"HEY, WHAT WAS THAT FOR, YA MOOK?!" Noxic demanded, before looking down at himself. "Heh, I knew crumple zones were a good idea…"

Ham-Hands' enraged yell drowned out his self-congratulation. "YOU THINK I AIN'T FORGET WHAT YOU DID TO ME?!"

Noxic stopped. "… I did somethin'?"

The slit representing Ham-Hands' eye lit up with a crimson light. "I'M GONNA FLATTEN YOU INTO A BEDPAN!"

The sound of growling and shifting caught Ham-Hands' attention, and the mecha turned back to see Typhus swinging on him with his monstrous green arm turning red as it did. With surprising speed of his own, Ham-Hands turned and swung a cross of his own to counter Typhus's. Fist and hammer met, and the force of their collision obliterated the beginning of Noxic's workshop, sent Noxic flying, and drew Jara's attention towards the mushroom-cloud of dust and pulverized metal that shot upward beneath the shockwave.

Slowly the dust cleared, revealing Typhus completely absent his mutagenic left arm as he staggered back from Ham-Hands. Gurgling in pain and disoriented, his retreat was accelerated by several baseball bat-sized nails that punched through his body and pinned him to a pile of scrap some ten meters behind him.

"… Dang… you nailed me good, baby," Typhus joked as he began to regenerate. With his right hand he began to pull one of the nails off. "Ham-Hands ain't a name I'm gonna forget."

Ham-Hands turned to him. "You'd better forget it wiseguy, like Noxic here forgot my real name!"

Noxic uncrumpled himself, but waved back and forth like an accordion as he got up on his feet. "Real name…?" It came to him, and he clapped his hands. "Oh yeah, I remember now, your name's Hammer D–"

"KONG! HAMMER KONG!" His creation roared. "YOU FORGOT THE NAME OF YOUR OWN CREATION?!"

Noxic steadied himself. "Look, buddy, I've made a lot of robots and after a while you bums start running together. Cut me some slack."

A violent mechanical jolt rattled through Hammer Kong. "Cut you some slack? Cut?!"

Rearing back with both arms, Hammer Kong swung them at Noxic. "DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CAN CUT ANYTHING?!"

The hammers on his forearms detached and spun like boomerangs, one hitting Noxic in the head, and the other in the chest, sending him flying into another trash heap, directly opposite of Typhus. The slung hammers returned to the ends of Hammer Kong's forearms, and a jet of steam screamed from his mouth.

"You made me a hammer, you salvage yard schmuck…" Hammer Kong snarled as he looked back and forth between Noxic and Typhus, crossing his arms, the Combat Mecha threw them outward and red electricity crackled across his body as he prepared to fight.

"So as far as everything else goes… all I see are NAILS!"

Still perched in silence above it all, Jara tilted her head slowly, before she turned away from the fight.

A/N: So begins Volume Six, a strong enemy appears.