Max Rage: Twelve Punches To Mars!

by Jake Bible

  “I believe that name has been used, Mr. Rage,” Lord Sahndle huffed. “Perhaps you could—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Sandy,” Rage snapped. “Junior! What the hell is going on? Grup said you and the Punches went missing.” Rage looked at the troupe. “Where’s Detective Labous? He was going to watch out for you.”

  “Here,” Detective Labous called.

  The Punches moved so Rage could see Detective Labous sitting on the intestinal floor, a bandage wrapped around his head and a good-sized bruise covering most of the left side of his face.

  “Jesus, Labous, what happened to you?” Rage asked.

  “We got jumped, Rage,” Junior said, pointing at Detective Labous. “And this guy couldn’t protect us!”

  “I saved your asses!” Detective Labous shouted then winced. “Ow. Rage, how have you not killed this little fucker yet?”

  “I ask myself that very question every damn day of my life,” Rage said. “But Mascholine would castrate me if I did, so I hope the galaxy kills him for me. Looks like it almost happened.”

  “Almost,” Detective Labous said. “What happened was Grup went to fetch us water then one of the other troupes came for us. They were mad, Rage. Like their eyes were swirling circles and their hands were claws.”

  “So they were Donbuvites?” Rage asked. “You know those aliens always have swirling eyes and claw hands, right?”

  “I know what Donbuvites look like, Rage,” Detective Labous snapped. “They were normal humans. Just another troupe. They came at us fast and would have surrounded and killed us if I hadn’t gotten us into the tunnels. We wandered for over an hour before Missy T found us.”

  “I thought it was my lucky day, baby,” Missy T said. “I was gonna suck them all dry then your friend Junior said they were Punching Air and I knew it was my lucky day! Sure, I wasn’t gonna eat, but I was gonna get the sweet, sweet moves of Punching Air all up inside my belly. Mmmm-hmmmm.”

  “Who jumped you?” Rage asked.

  “It was Rolling Thunder,” one of the Punches said. Rage had no idea which one.

  There was no way to tell the douchebruhs apart since they were all wearing matching outfits. Some sort of puffy pants and pinstripe shirt combo that made Rage slightly nauseous and more than a little dizzy.

  “Oh, dear me,” Lord Sahndle said. “They must be off their medication. That is a strict violation of A Cappella Mime Troupe competition rules. All troupes are to be properly medicated depending on the severity of their instabilities.”

  “That’s a rule?” Rage asked. “How unstable are these troupes?”

  “Oh, some of them will murder you dead, Rage,” Junior said. His voice was hushed and wary. “Murder you dead.”

  “You said that. Shut up,” Rage snapped.

  “Due to the intense mental and emotional strain that performing a cappella mime can have on beings,” Lord Sahndle explained, “many troupes are medicated at all times. Even when not performing in order to head off the PTSD.”

  “PTSD?” Rage asked.

  “Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Lord Sahndle said.

  “Yes, I know what it fucking is, asshole,” Rage snarled. “I know beings that actually have PTSD. These little douchebruhs do not have PTSD from acting out songs that no one can fucking hear!”

  “Bruh, I sprained my ankle last year and could barely get myself dressed for weeks,” one of the Punches said.

  “Oh, that’s fucking it!” Rage roared and brought his rifle up.

  “Rage!” Detective Labous yelled, his pistol drawn and aimed at Rage. “Put the rifle down!”

  “Son of a bitch,” Rage muttered after a couple seconds hesitation. “Fine. But the next pussy that equates spraining ankles to the horrors of combat will get a plasma blast between the eyes. You little fuckers hear me?”

  Several of the Punches raised their hands.

  “Any injury! Not just sprained ankles!” Rage shouted.

  All hands went down.

  “We’re here, baby,” Missy T said. “We have arrived back below the A Cappella Mime Troupe Plaza. You sure this is where you want to go?”

  “I’m sure,” Rage said. “I’m hoping my team is smart enough to know to head directly here.”

  “Mr. Rage, I am not sure this is such a good idea,” Lord Sahndle said. “If Rolling Thunder is off their medications, then it could be a bloodbath up there.”

  Rage blinked and shook his head.

  “What fucking reality am I in?” he whispered.

  “The best one you can make for yourself, baby,” Missy T said. “That’s all we can do, right?”

  “If you say so,” Rage responded. “Hey! Labous! You able to stand and walk on your own?”

  “Yeah, Rage,” Detective Labous said and stood up.

  “Then everyone follow me,” Rage said. “I’ll take point and make sure the coast is clear. You cover our six, Labous.”

  “Copy that, Rage,” Detective Labous said.

  “Let’s move out, Punches!” Rage shouted.

  “Yeah, bitches! Time to move out, yo!” Grandmaster Scunge yelled.

  Twenty

  The scene before Rage was a bloodbath, but the bloodbath wasn’t finished. Murder, mayhem, and brutality were still everywhere.

  Rage led the Punches, Lord Sahndle, Grandmaster Scunge, and Detective Labous above ground. They arrived off to the side of the plaza. Everywhere Rage looked, it was nothing but bloody carnage.

  It was also the quietest bloody carnage he’d ever witnessed.

  Not one of the members of the various warring a cappella mime troupes was breaking character. They killed in silence. They were even dying in silence.

  “I must be stuck in some nightmare,” Rage said. “Will someone wake me up, please.”

  Rage watched the bloodbath carefully.

  “This isn’t lack of medication,” Rage said. “This is something else.”

  “How can you tell?” Detective Labous asked.

  “Too coordinated,” Rage said.

  “I believe you mean choreographed,” Lord Sahndle said. “The choreography is quite impressive, I must say. A little bloody for my taste, but youth these days enjoy the violence, I am told.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Sandy,” Rage snarled.

  “Yeah, bitch, shut the fuck up,” Grandmaster Scunge said.

  “Rage,” a hushed voice called from off to the group’s left. “Rage. Over here. Move slow and keep your voice down.”

  Rage glanced to his left and wasn’t surprised to see Grup. Sure, he’d left the guy back with the team in the tunnel, but Grup always showed up no matter how much Rage wished he wouldn’t. The guy was just there every time Rage turned around.

  “Where’s everyone else?” Rage asked and tried to activate comms, but the implant wouldn’t respond.

  “All comms are out, man,” Grup said.

  “Where is my team?” Rage asked.

  “They’re around,” Grup said and pointed in different directions with his different arms.

  One pointed up and Rage looked into the air. He squinted against the bright light, but could just make out Choosper slowly circling the plaza. Rage then followed Grup’s pointing and saw Rasco across the plaza at ten o’clock, Bill across the plaza at two o’clock, and Scutter at four o’clock. Rage stood at eight o’clock with Grup.

  “Alright. This I can deal with,” Rage said and lifted his rifle.

  He raised his left fist up into the air then made a series of hand gestures. The hand gestures were answered by Rasco, Bill, and Scutter. Rasco agreed that the whole plaza should be wiped clean of the homicidal mimes. Bill was good either way. Scutter was pretty damn adamant that they not kill all of the a cappella mime troupes.

  Rage and Scutter hand argued for a good three or four minutes before Detective Labous cleared his throat and tapped Rage on the shoulder. The interruption caused Rage to make a hand gesture at Scutter that was brutally obscene and would have resulted in execution on many planets. Scutter
returned the gesture.

  “What?” Rage snapped at Detective Labous.

  “Them,” Detective Labous said, nodding at the a cappella mime troupes.

  Those still alive were staring straight at Rage and his little posse.

  No, that was not quite true.

  Rage took several steps to the side, but the focus did not shift with him. All murderous eyes were locked on the Punches. Rage kept moving, making sure the mimes could see his rifle. He even pulled a blade and waved it over his head.

  None of the members of the a cappella mime troupes even glanced his way.

  “Hey! Mimes!” Rage shouted.

  Nope. Eyes were still locked on the Punches.

  “Uh, Rage?” Junior called as Rage kept moving to the side. “Where you going, Rage?”

  “Testing the boundaries,” Rage said.

  “Can you test the boundaries in front of us?” Junior asked. “My mom’s gonna be really pissed if I die! You’re supposed to protect us, Rage! You can’t protect us from over there!”

  “Junior. Shut up,” Rage said. “You are not helping the situation.”

  “Neither are you, you coward!” Junior shouted. “You’re gonna leave me here! I’m so telling my mom when this is all over!”

  The blood-soaked mob of mimes all took a single step. Then a second step. They were in perfect synch.

  Then the choreography kicked in.

  Shuffle step. Left hand raised. A fist made. Pump the fist, drop the arm. Fall to a knee. A spin move on the knee. Jump up. Land hard then spin and kick the right leg out. Jazz hands, jazz, hands, jazz hands.

  “Oh, this is quite something,” Lord Sahndle said. “I never expected such coordination. I have to say that the gentleman that sold me the…”

  Lord Sahndle trailed off when Rage whipped his head around to stare at the Ghej.

  “No, Sandy, keep talking,” Rage said. He walked quickly back to where everyone was standing. “I really want to hear the rest of that sentence.”

  “The rest of what sentence, Mr. Rage?” Lord Sahndle asked. “I was quite finished speaking.”

  “No, you weren’t,” Rage said.

  “Yeah, I’m not so sure either,” Detective Labous said.

  “Sounded damn sketchy to me, too,” Grandmaster Scunge added. “I think the royal bitch is lying, yo.”

  “Lying? How dare you, sir!” Lord Sahndle exclaimed. “You are accusing a member of the royal Ghej family of purposefully drugging the entire a cappella mime troupe competition in order to do what? Get out of a very bad wager I may have made last week after a night of drinking, carousing, and cards? How dare you, sir! How dare you!”

  “Well, that was a lot easier than I thought it’d be,” Rage said. “Thinking maybe we should explore all that, don’t you, Sandy?”

  “I refuse to respond to that moniker,” Lord Sahndle huffed.

  “Fine,” Rage said and stomped over to the Ghej. He placed the barrel of his rifle against one of Lord Sahndle’s eyes. “Hey there, Lord Sahndle. Care to tell me what these idiots are drugged with?”

  “Rage,” Detective Labous said. “The idiots are getting closer.”

  Rage glanced at the dancing killers and sighed. At some point, props had been added to the routine. Half had top hats and half had multi-colored scarves.

  “Christ,” Rage said. “Scutter!”

  “We can’t kill them all, Max!” Scutter shouted from her position.

  “We can. It’s easy. Just shoot them all,” Rage shouted back.

  “No, Max! Earth Corp will execute us if we kill all of the galaxies’ best a cappella mime troupes!”

  “We’d be doing the galaxies a favor!”

  “MAX!”

  “FINE!”

  Rage took a deep breath. “Sandy? And, yeah, I’m gonna call you Sandy.”

  “Damn right he is, bitch!” Grandmaster Scunge yelled.

  “Uh, who’s the worm?” Grup asked. “You guys friends now? Can I just say that I’ve known Rage a long time and we’re really close, so don’t think you’re his sidekick all of a sudden, wormy.”

  “Bitch, Grandmaster Scunge ain’t no bitch’s sidekick,” Grandmaster Scunge snapped. “He rides solo, yo.”

  “Solo? Well, sounds lonely. Beings need friends, wormy. They need to talk and laugh and share beers and sometimes throw each other across highways and tie all their limbs into knots and constantly shout horrible mean things and—”

  “Oh, fuck me,” Rage interrupted. “Grup? Scunge? Close the pie holes. Keep them closed until I say to open them.”

  “You’re never gonna say to open them,” Grup said. “See, wormy, since I don’t ride solo, and Rage is my friend, I can say I’ve been through this—”

  “GRUP!” Rage roared.

  “Shutting pie hole now,” Grup said. He shot Grandmaster Scunge a very harsh glare. Very harsh.

  “Sandy?” Rage repeated.

  “I am unsure of the contents of the exact formulation,” Lord Sahndle said. “If there was any formulation. I’m not saying there was. I admit nothing.”

  “You already admitted everything,” Rage said. “Come clean, Sandy, and I won’t tear off your tentacles and shove them up your waste hole.”

  “Yeah! He’ll do it, bitch!” Grandmaster Scunge said.

  “That’s not a closed pie hole, Scunge,” Rage said. “Last warning.”

  “Bitch, you don’t warn Grandmaster Scunge. Grandmaster Scunge warns—Hey! Stop! What are you doooooooooiiiiinnnnnggggg…”

  The shrunken Sphuncter flew out across the plaza and over the buildings, lost from sight. Everyone except the encroaching killer mimes watched the worm fly.

  “Nice throw,” Detective Labous said.

  “Get the Punches out of here, Labous,” Rage responded.

  “Where to?” Detective Labous asked.

  “Anywhere without mimes,” Rage said.

  “This is Scorching Dude, Rage,” Detective Labous said. “That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

  “No, of course not. Why would it?” Rage sighed. “Where’s the closest Earth Corp security office?”

  “There should be one maybe a kilometer down the boulevard,” Detective Labous said.

  “Take them there,” Rage said. “Let them know the situation and to send shock troops to this location. These…mimes have to be contained. They’re focused on the Punches, but who knows what will happen if they leave this plaza? They could start trying to kill non-mimes too.”

  “You aren’t coming with us, Rage?” Junior shouted. “Oh, yeah, I’m calling my mom as soon as I get to an interface! She’s gonna fire you and kick you out of your apartment and—”

  “And maybe not blow me as often as she does?” Rage interrupted.

  Junior made gagging noises as the other Punches began razzing him over the comment.

  “Labous?” Rage continued. “You up for this?”

  “I can handle getting them to the security office.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m on it, Rage,” Detective Labous said. “Punches! Follow me!”

  “I’ll stay and…” Grup started to say then gulped hard, nodded, and followed Detective Labous.

  Rage watched them all jog out of the plaza then turned to face the incoming mimes. Without looking, his hand shot out and grabbed Lord Sahndle by a tentacle.

  “You’re staying here,” Rage said.

  “What? But I may be harmed! How dare you put my life in jeopardy, Mr. Rage!”

  “How dare I? This is how I dare,” Rage said and lifted Lord Sahndle up into the air.

  All of the mime eyes followed and focused on the dangling Ghej.

  “That’s what I thought,” Rage said. “It’s not a drug. It’s nanite tech. Nanites that have been programmed to kill each other, but especially the Punches. And you, Sandy.”

  “Me? But that’s preposterous!” Lord Sahndle shrieked. “I paid the man to kill the mimes, not to kill me!”

  “I swear, you are making this
so easy,” Rage said and dropped the Ghej. “Who’d you pay?”

  “What? I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Sweet bloody Christmas,” Rage snarled. “I will kick you into the middle of that flash mob if you don’t start being straight with me, you little blob of Bascol pus!”

  Rage drew his leg back.

  “Alright! I will come clean and explain the situation in full detail!” Lord Sahndle said.

  “Good.” Rage smiled and twirled a hand in the air. “Stun them!”

  “Rage! We don’t know—” Scutter began.

  “Nanite tech! Programmed to kill the Punches and Lord Sahndle! They started killing each other when those targets weren’t around. We need to stun their asses until we can deprogram the nanites!”

  “How do you know that?” Scutter yelled.

  Rage picked Lord Sahndle up by a tentacle again and shook him at the mimes. The choreography intensified and they danced toward the Ghej faster and faster with every step ball change.

  “Stun them!” Rage yelled.

  “Copy that!” Scutter said.

  The team opened fire.

  The stun beams had no effect.

  “Huh,” Rage said as he stopped firing and frowned down at Lord Sahndle. “Who the hell did you pay to program the nanites?”

  “Well, to be honest, I did not know that nanites specifically were to be used, Mr. Rage,” Lord Sahndle explained and waved his tentacles as Rage lifted his leg again. “But, I can tell you the gentleman’s name!”

  “Then do that,” Rage said.

  “Nargle Boof!” Lord Sahndle shouted. “It was a, well, man isn’t the word. Pig man? His name is Nargle Boof.”

  “I know who Nargle Boof is,” Rage said. “He led the porcine revolution of 2344 on Earth. Pigs that mutated into full sentience rose up against Earth Corp. Nargle was the only one to escape alive. He’s an intergalactic outlaw and total scumbag. How in the hell did you come in contact with Nargle Boof?”

  “Apparently we have the same acupuncturist,” Lord Sahndle said. “Small universe.”

  “Nargle Boof!” Rage yelled to the team.

  “Are you kidding me, dude?” Rasco shouted back. “That pig is a scary genius with nanite tech!”