Max Rage: Twelve Punches To Mars! Page 7

  “So, your detective friend showed up—”

  “You said that, Grup,” Rage interrupted, his eyes watching the crowd on each side of the team. “And he’s not my friend.”

  Rage kept Lord Sahndle within in arm’s reach, which wasn’t easy since the Ghej kept trying to move as far away from Grup as possible. Rage was constantly having to grab a tentacle and yank the guy back to his side.

  “Get on with the story,” Rage said.

  “Okay, right, yeah. So Labous got there. We shared some pleasantries because we know each other from Greenville and all,” Grup said. “Did you know he has a sister that—”

  “GRUP!” Rage roared.

  “Right. Sorry. So he’s there and Junior tells me to get the Punches some water. At first, I’m like hell no, my job is to watch over you guys, but Junior is Junior and he goes into full whiny dick mode. Labous says he’s got the bruhs covered and I can go fetch water.”

  “Were there no servants to fetch the water for you?” Lord Sahndle asked. “Please tell me there were at least indentured interns. I must say, if there are not indentured interns at this venue, then I will be highly put out. Who will wipe my waste hole for me later after my fifty-three minutes of defecation?”

  “Not it!” Rasco, Bill, and Choosper shouted.

  “Motherfucker…” Rage sighed. He glanced at Grup then glanced past Grup. “Horsey? Check our three. Velpoohians.”

  “I see them, Rage,” Choosper replied, her voice all business. “They’re browsing stalls right now. I’ll let you know if they look like they’re making a move.”

  “Cut to the chase, Grup,” Rage ordered.

  “I came back with a whole bunch of waters,” Grup continued. “Good thing I have so many arms.”

  “Pshaw. You call that many?” Lord Sahndle said. “Clickelacks and their delusions of grandeur.”

  “Junior and the Punches were gone, man!” Grup exclaimed. “So was Detective Labous!”

  “Where’d they go?” Rage asked.

  “Huh?” Grup replied.

  “Where. Did. They. Go?”

  “I don’t know. I asked everyone around and they had no idea. Then I asked the competition organizers and get this.” Grup grabbed Rage’s arm. “They don’t have Punching Air in their system. They weren’t invited and aren’t scheduled to compete!”

  “What? Preposterous!” Lord Sahndle said. “Punching Air are legends in the a cappella mime troupe circuit. They are invited to all competitions!”

  “I know!” Grup said. “Okay, I didn’t really know, but you sound very convincing, man.”

  Grup smiled at Lord Sahndle then at Rage.

  “Who’s this guy again?” he asked, hooking three thumbs at the Ghej.

  “Lord Birkenstock,” Rage said. “He’s one of the judges for the douchebruhs’ competition thingy.”

  “I’d appreciate if you did not call me that,” Lord Sahndle said. “Despite the Birkenstocks being a prominent family, it is disrespectful to address me by a name other than my own.”

  Grup smiled and nodded at the lord then looked back at Rage.

  “I bet you two are having all kinds of fun together,” Grup said.

  “Keep talking about the Punches being missing,” Rage said. “Horsey? What’s the update on the Velpoohians?”

  “Still shopping, Rage.”

  “Bill?”

  “Clearing the way. Nothing suspicious.”

  “Rasco?”

  “No out of the ordinary signals or transmissions. If an attack is coming, it won’t be via tech.”

  “Scutter?”

  “Fuck you, Max. I should be asking all of those questions.”

  “But you didn’t,” Rage replied.

  “You did tell me to listen to him,” Bill said.

  “See?” Rage responded. “Grup? Keep talking.” He sighed. “I never thought I’d say that ever in my life.”

  “Talking? I’m done. The Punches are gone, Rage, and there’s no record of them being there,” Grup said.

  “Rasco? Check the venue’s logs to see if there’s vid of the Punches. Specifically, look for a yellow-skinned, green-haired douchebag. I could care less about the other douchebruhs, but my lady friend will really be pissed if I lose her kid.”

  “No way, dude,” Rasco replied. “I’m not wasting time checking vids to find your girlfriend’s brat.”

  “The vid will be of the venue we are currently escorting Lord Chaco too,” Rage said. “Might be a good idea to know if there’s some group snatching people and wiping their presence clean. Don’t you think that could be relevant a little to our current job?”

  “Once again, despite the Chaco family being a—”

  “Shut up, jelly boy,” Rage snapped at Lord Sahndle.

  “Goddamnit, Rage,” Scutter snarled as she shoved up next to Rage. “Show respect or you are off this job and you lose your one chance at wiping your debt clean.”

  “You’re supposed to have our six, Scutter,” Rage said. “We get shot in the back, Earth Corp will be looking at you, not me.”

  “Be. Fucking. Nice.” Scutter spat.

  “Fine. Lord Sahndle, I apologize for making light of your name and your family’s prominence within the intergalactic community. I hope you do not harbor any ill will toward…” Rage took a deep breath. “I hope you do not harbor… Oh, for fuck’s sake, I can’t do this. Everyone fucking stop!”

  Rage jammed a finger in Lord Sahndle’s blob body.

  “You. I’m gonna fuck with you all I want because I despise galactic royalty and the entire class system that you stand for. You all can go fuck yourselves, which you do anyway since you’re all a bunch of inbred, spoiled fucknuts.”

  His finger turned on the team, one by one.

  “From now on, I call the shots. Scutter can pretend she’s the team lead, but the real reason I’m here is because I’m better at this than she is. If I say jump, you fucking jump. Only way this works.”

  The finger landed on Scutter.

  “If you have a problem, then let’s throw down now. You and me. Fists. Rifles. Blades. Whatever you want. You want to beat the shit out of each other with those Velpoohians’ goggles, then that’s what we do. If you don’t want to throw down right now, then that means I am running this show one hundred and ten percent.”

  “There can only be one hundred percent,” Lord Sahndle said. “I was very good at maths in my academy days.”

  “Good for you, but I doubt you can count higher than the amount of tentacles you have,” Rage replied.

  “Oh, you,” Lord Sahndle said. “Crude and rude, but so entertaining. I accept the threat of your taunts only because it will be a joy to watch you work, Mr. Rage.”

  “Scutter? What’s the call?” Rage asked.

  “You should shoot him,” Rasco said and held up his hands. “Am I wrong, dude? Wouldn’t you shoot someone trying to usurp your authority?”

  “Fair enough,” Rage said.

  “Fine, Max,” Scutter said through gritted teeth. “You want to call all the shots then you get to call all the shots. Good luck with that.”

  “Don’t need luck,” Rage said and patted his dual plasma, laser-guided hot rocket launching, never-empty Axis combat rifles.

  “Rage? So what do we do?” Grup asked.

  “Rasco? You see anything?” Rage asked.

  “Give me a second,” Rasco snapped. “The signal is shit right now.”

  There was some grumbling from the crowd. Rage stiffened and slowly raised one of his rifles to his shoulder.

  “Grup, you fucked up with Junior, but I’ll give you a second chance,” Rage said. “You stick to Lord Teva here like stink on shit, hear me?”

  “What? Why?” Grup asked.

  “Signal is down! We’re being jammed!” Rasco announced as the entire crowd groaned and complained about their signals being down.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Thirteen

  The Velpoohians weren’t the ones that attack
ed the team.

  Rage was surprised to watch three of the space pirates get torn apart by plasma fire before their eyebrows even had a chance to rise in surprise over their goggles.

  “Six bogies in stealth suits!” Choosper called from above. “Two at ten! One at two! Two at five! And one at seven!”

  “Get your ass down!” Rage yelled and shoved Lord Sahndle onto the ground.

  “Oh, how rough!” Lord Sahndle shrieked. “I love it!”

  “What do I do? What do I do?” Grup screeched as he ran around in a circle.

  “Cover him!” Rage yelled and spun to fire at the team’s five o’clock position.

  Grup leapt into the air and landed on Lord Sahndle in a full body slam, wrapping his five arms across the alien’s shaking and shivering body.

  “That works too!” Rage said, his rifle barking plasma at the barely discernible forms of two of the attackers.

  “I got the seven!” Choosper yelled.

  Holy hellfire rained down from the Kalanip’s rifle. Whatever or whoever had been standing in that exact position no longer existed. All that was left was a good-sized crater and a couple pieces of black material that slowly floated down into the crater.

  “Fuck me,” Rage said. “New respect earned, Choosper.”

  “Rage!” Bill yelled. “They can transport!”

  Something slammed into Rage’s back and he fell face forward onto the ground. But, being Rage, he managed to twist and open fire before he was fully laid out. There was a scream, a flicker of light, then a poof of smoke and a spray of gunk that coated Rage from head to toe.

  “Charbeshuns!” Rage announced. “We got smokies, people!”

  “Smokies! They fight for shit!” Bill yelled.

  “Do they look like they’re fighting for shit?” Rage asked. “They obviously have tech suits helping them fight for more than shit!”

  “Right!” Bill agreed. “Sorry, man!”

  “Smokies. Fucking hate smokies,” Rasco muttered as he drew two pistols and began firing indiscriminately. “Smokies get inside you, dude. Always trying to get inside you.”

  “Uh, folks, I think we have found Rasco’s trigger,” Rage said. “Anyone got a sedative we can give the guy?”

  “Sedatives don’t work on the Starsch,” Scutter shouted. “Rasco! Pull your shit together!”

  A shimmering shadow appeared in front of Rage and he instinctively shot it. It died. It died horribly. The tech suit split wide open and the smoke being inside exploded out everywhere, sending gray threads of sticky, dead smoke in all directions.

  But mostly all over Rage.

  Charbeshuns were an alien shadow race. Made of sentient smoke, they could become dense as iron when they needed to, making them very dangerous opponents. They weren’t usually a violent race. Unless threatened, then they’d fight to the death without a second thought.

  “Damnit!” Rage yelled as he fruitlessly tried to wipe the remains of the alien off his body. All he managed to do was smear it everywhere and get the sticky strands stuck between the fingers of his gloves. “Every damn time!”

  Another volley of hellfire rained down from above and three more attackers were turned to craters.

  “Aaaaaaaaaa!” Grup screamed.

  Rage spun around and saw a no longer stealth-hidden Charbeshun trying to pry the alien’s five hands away from Lord Sahndle’s body. Rage stuck the barrel of his rifle against where he figured the top of the alien’s skull was.

  “You might want to rethink that,” Rage said. “Let go and get off the Clickelack. Surrender and you get to live.”

  “We will never surre—” was all Rage allowed the being to say.

  He squeezed the trigger and the tech suit the alien wore popped like a balloon. Rage managed to miss most of the smoke threads, but Grup and Lord Sahndle weren’t so lucky.

  “Oh, it’s so sticky,” Lord Sahndle said. “And not the good sticky.”

  “Fucking Charbeshuns,” Rasco muttered from off to the side. “Gonna nuke that planet, dude. Gonna nuke it good.”

  “Uh, okay… You do that,” Rage said and yanked Grup off the Ghej. “You hurt, Lord Keen?”

  “Keen? I am unfamiliar with that family? Do they live on the north coast?” Lord Sahndle asked as Scutter helped the alien up onto his tentacles. “No, no, it must be the south coast. I know all the families on the north coast.”

  “No you don’t,” Rage said and looked the Ghej up and down. “You good?”

  “Well, that is quite the question to ask, Mr. Rage,” Lord Sahndle responded. “While I do not appear to be injured, I must say that my anxiety level is no longer Xanax approved. I will need a Klonopin cocktail enema post haste, please. Here, let me bend over so you can—”

  “Nope to that,” Rage said. “You’re good.”

  Rage surveyed the scene. It wasn’t pretty.

  “Choosper? We clear?” he asked.

  “We are clear, Rage,” Choosper responded. “Security is incoming, though. We staying put or moving out?”

  “Scutter? You want to stay and chat with the Earth Corp security bozos or do we keep moving?” Rage asked.

  “You’re in charge, Max,” Scutter replied with a sneer.

  “I figured you’d say that,” Rage said. “Grup? Gonna need you to stall the bozos.”

  “Do what now? I have no idea what a bozo is, man,” Grup said.

  “Stay and stall the Earth Corp security guards,” Rage clarified.

  “How am I going to do that? They have stun batons. I know they do. They always have stun batons,” Grup said.

  “Just be you. You can stall and waste anyone’s time,” Rage said.

  “But the stun batons…”

  “How many times have I stunned you since you’ve been coming to Crater Ray’s?” Rage asked.

  “Six hundred and ninety-five,” Grup answered.

  “That’s pretty specific,” Bill said.

  “And a lot of voltage,” Rasco added.

  “Clickelacks are very resilient,” Grup stated proudly.

  “Which is why you’re the member of the team that’s staying behind,” Rage said and patted Grup on one of his shoulders. He tried to pull his hand away, but the Charbeshun gunk was like glue and he ended up lifting Grup into the air. “Damnit.”

  Rage slid his hand from the glove and left it where it was stuck.

  “Did you say…? Did you say I’m part of the team?” Grup asked. He puffed out his stick chest and tried to look tough, but the tears welling in his eyes kinda killed the faux bravado. “Oh, Rage…”

  “Hey! No crying on the job!” Rage snapped.

  “No, sir!” Grup yelled and gave Rage a three-handed salute. Two of the hands stuck to the Clickelack’s forehead. “Uh…”

  “You think this is a good idea?” Scutter asked, moving in close so only Rage could hear.

  “Fuck no,” Rage replied. “But it’ll stall the guards and get Grup out of my hair for a bit.”

  “Okay. You’re in charge, Max,” Scutter said and stepped back. She reloaded her weapons and waited.

  “Check yourselves,” Rage said to the team. “Bill? Find us a side route.”

  “On it,” Bill said and turned to the closest tent. “You! You got a back way out?”

  The tent owner just stood there, terror in his eyes, his body shaking with pure fear.

  “Better answer me!” Bill yelled.

  The tent owner nodded.

  “Good. Open it, we’re coming through,” Bill said then marched right at the guy.

  The owner scurried fast to get the back way open. A slice of ground slid apart and stairs descended down into the darkness.

  “Am I coming too?” Choosper asked.

  “No,” Rage said. “I need your eyes when we exit.”

  “Copy that!”

  “Bill? Lead on,” Rage said.

  Rage’s arm snapped out and he grabbed Rasco by the shoulder, pulling the Starsch in close.

  “You got your shit stowed?”
Rage growled. “Or am I going to have to worry about you again?”

  “Shit’s stowed, dude,” Rasco said. “Won’t happen again.”

  “Better not or I shoot you myself next time,” Rage said. “Now get your ass down there after Bill. I want you scanning everything as we move. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. Let’s go, team!”

  Fourteen

  “Well… This was a bad idea,” Bill said.

  There was a certain, rather pungent aroma to the subterranean corridor the team was currently walking.

  Earthy? Yes.

  Sour? Perhaps.

  Fecal? For sure.

  In the general vernacular, it would be called smelling like ass.

  “Is this a sewage tunnel?” Rage asked. “Because it sure smells like a fucking sewage tunnel.”

  “No,” Bill said. “Sewage tunnels cannot be accessed by living beings. Only bots.”

  “So, and I’m spitballing here, this is just a tunnel where beings come to take a lot of shits in then,” Rage said. “An artisanal sewage tunnel.”

  “That’s not a thing,” Scutter said.

  “My nose argues that it is,” Rage replied. “And it makes a very fucking good argument.”

  “There is no sewage,” Rasco said. “I’m scanning on all spectrums and I can find zero evidence of fecal matter from any race.”

  “Then what’s up with the ass smell?” Rage asked.

  “Butt party!” Lord Sahndle shouted and shot all tentacles up in the air.

  The Ghej started to run down the corridor, but Rage grabbed one of the waving tentacles and yanked him back.

  “Did you shout butt party?” Rage asked

  “Oh, my, yes I did,” Lord Sahndle responded, bouncing with glee.

  “Why would you yell butt party?” Rage asked.

  “Because that is the distinctive smell of a butt party,” Lord Sahndle replied matter-of-factly. “Have you truly never been invited to a butt party?”