All the students have gaduated who could remember how it had happened,
how the school had fallen under eternal art class.
At least no one who would do anything.
No one who would oppose the robots.
No one who would challenge their power,
or so Nomiya believed...
 
There is a skyline in the distance. A brilliant and bright school with classroom after classroom crowded into a dense and industrious center. The school is closer now. Rushing past the classes to the base of one crumbling science room. The first story passes by. The second now, and with more speed. There is a blur of windows and brick. Eighteen... Nineteen...
 
Twenty floors above the dark hallways of the school, Mutou lived in a run-down classroom.
An eccentric and brilliant man.
Mutou was a loner, a thinker, a man of ideas.
Ideas forbidden in Nomiya's school.
The school for which he worked.
The school in which he taught.
The school that he would set free.
And so Mutou worked, far into the night, when the watchful eyes of Nomiya's robots weren't upon him.
He'd set his skillful hands to the task of creating a device to bring about a change, to create a machine to bring freedom, to create a MAN to save the world.
Twelve years Mutou worked and on a cold night in the year 2007, KenjiMAN was born.
A perfect MAN, an unbeatable machine, hell-bent on destroying every evil standing between MAN and freedom, built for one purpose, to destroy Nomiya's army of evil robots. Ready, willing, prepared to fight.
 
The hallways, the arteries of this school, run with bodies. Crowding together, they flow out of the school, toward a superstructure east of the track. A factory. A fortress. Glancing at it the facade resembles the face of a skeleton. Smoke pours from the stacks high above the outer wall. The gates are open. A figure stands in the light before the entrance. Perfectly still, he waits. The crash of metal destroys the silence. One by one the Robots step forward, step into the light.
 
Blindgirl
Deafgirl
Leglessgirl
Armlessgirl
 
Burnedgirl: Attack!
 
The violence is surreal. Metal against metal, the sound is deafening. For most, the reaction is automatic. Hands cover ears. Mothers reach to cover eyes of terrified children. The blows are quick and precise. This is KenjiMAN. Dealing death without remorse, without hesitation, and still, the fight is unbalanced. One against so many. KenjiMAN fights without fear of feminists, although it is inevitable. The men keep their distance, straining to see every crushing blow through the smoke that has surrounded the ongoing battle. The din stops abruptly. Unsettlingly.
 
And as the smoke cleared!
Nomiya rose above the countless fembots remaining. KeniMAN was wounded, low on energy, struggling to remain standing as Nomiya ordered the final attack.
The death of KenjiMAN.
 
The crowd had gathered there to watch him fall, to watch their hopes destroyed.
They watched them beat him, they watched them break him, they watched his last defense deployed.
There was not a MAN among them who would let himself be heard.
But from the students, from their collective fear, arose these broken words:
We are the dead
We are the dead
 
What have we done?
We are the dead
What will we do?
We are the dead
Where will we turn?
We are the dead
Is there nothing we can do?
 We are the dead
How did it come to this?
We are the dead
How did we go so wrong?
We are the dead
We are the dead