Max Rage: Intergalactic Badass!

by Jake Bible

  “It’s good to see you, Scutter.”

  She punched Rage in the face and his skin rippled like waves.

  “Didn’t feel that at all,” Rage said. “You losing your touch?”

  “Delayed pain,” Scutter replied. “You’ll feel it when we disconnect.”

  “Yay.”

  “Max. I can’t be in here for very long. Morlaw will get suspicious. When he gets suspicious, then people die randomly. He’ll just start killing everyone around him without thought or care. The guy is a monster, no doubt about it.”

  “What if I said I’m on vacation?” Rage replied.

  “No.”

  “What? It’s true.”

  “No, it’s not. This is how I know it’s not true. First, you’re broke as fuck. I took everything from you in the divorce and that was before Earth Corp canned your ass for killing those officers. Which was an admirable move. Everyone knew Captain Jones deserved to die. That guy didn’t care about anyone but his own career.”

  “It was a good moment,” Rage said.

  “Second,” Scutter continued. “Setting aside the fact you’re broke, you lost travel privileges when you got out of prison. You aren’t supposed to leave Earth.”

  “How do you know that?” Rage asked. “I get guessing that I’m broke, but how can you know what my travel status is? My Earth Corp records are sealed.”

  “Who do you think made sure you weren’t hanged, asshole?” Scutter asked and leaned back in her chair. “You know my family has pull like that.”

  “You saved me from the noose?” Rage asked, seriously confused. “Why?”

  “Because everyone hated Jones. Duh. A few of the old gang asked if I could save you, since you’d saved their lives a hundred times. At first, I was all like fuck no, let the guy swing, but then I came around because it was true. Most of the old gang would have died on one battlefield or another if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Well…thanks?”

  “Of course, you say thank you in the form of a question. Because god fucking forbid that Max Rage be sincere in his gratitude.”

  “Fine. Thank you, Scutter, for saving my life.”

  “It was my dad that pulled the strings. He always liked you for some reason.” Scutter ground her teeth. “Why are you here, Max? Did someone hire you to kill Morlaw?”

  “Nope. Your boss is safe as long as he…”

  “As long as he…what? As long as he what? Stays out of your way? Which means I need to stay out of your way. Why, Max?”

  “Okay, listen, and don’t be mad.”

  “Too late.”

  “I am here on a job.”

  “And that job is?”

  “I’d rather not say. How about we agree to keep out of each other’s way tonight? I do my job, you do your job, and whatever happens, as long as our jobs don’t collide, we go our separate ways forever after the evening is over. Cool?”

  “No. That’s not cool. What the fuck, Max? Why would you think that’s cool?”

  Scutter’s eyes glazed over then came back into focus.

  “Shit. Conversation is done. The Mash is over and they’re mopping up the stage. Carlotta is about to go on.”

  Rage grinned. “Carlotta? Is that the goddess’s true name?”

  Scutter reached out and grabbed Rage by the throat. She squeezed, but he couldn’t feel it.

  “You touch Carlotta and I will end you, Max,” Scutter snarled. “If she is your job, then we do not have a deal. You die the second we’re out of here.”

  Scutter let go and her eyes glazed over once more.

  “He wants a what?” she asked, talking to someone outside the direct interface. “What do you mean? A real one? No, I know they aren’t actually real bears. I mean he wants a real teddy bear? What teddy bear?”

  “Oh, shit,” Rage said. “Scutter, no. Talk your boss out of that. He doesn’t want that teddy bear.”

  Scutter held up a finger.

  “I’m serious!” Rage shouted. “Do not send a guard over to get that teddy bear!”

  “Send someone to take it from the Qitnit,” Scutter said. “If he gives you trouble, then kill him. What? Yes, I know Qitnits can only be killed with a direct proton beam to the chest. Good thing we have a proton cannon in the backroom!”

  “Scutter! You have to listen to me!” Rage yelled. “You touch that teddy bear and your night is going to go to shit so fast that there will be nothing I can do to stop it!”

  Scutter’s eyes cleared and she frowned at Rage. “Are you with the Qitnit? The Qitnit that has been playing with a teddy bear all night? The teddy bear that my boss now wants for his own?”

  “Yes to everything,” Rage said. “I’ll come clean, alright? I’m here with a team to steal the goddess for Lisha Peem.”

  “The widow?”

  “Yeah. Her. The Qitnit is with me. So is the bot and the pink fella in that booth. You make a move and a lot of your people are going to die.” Rage scrunched up his face and nodded. “Okay, they were probably going to die anyway, but they don’t have to. Let us take the goddess and I guarantee your people and your boss live. That’s a great deal, right?”

  “I should have let you get hanged,” Scutter said. Her eyes glazed over one more time. “Take the bear. Kill everyone at that booth. I’m coming out. We’re moving the boss to the safe room the second I’m back in the—”

  Rage disconnected.

  He faced Scutter, her tongue still sticking out, and took that split second advantage to make his one and only move.

  Rage tucked his hand inside Scutter’s suit jacket and snagged the pistol that was holstered under her arm. Then he scrambled over the table just as he saw Scutter’s eyes come back into focus. Rage landed hard on top of the pile of skin that was Roger Morlaw. He jammed the pistol against where he thought Morlaw’s brain might be, just under the bad hairpiece.

  “Nobody fucking move or flappy man gets it!” Rage yelled.

  Then all hell really broke loose as the guard sent to take Book from Mosh reached the booth and simply tried to do what he’d been ordered to do. At the same time, the stage began to open to allow the goddess to emerge from below.

  Thirty

  Several actions occurred simultaneously. All of the actions were quite impressive on their own. Together? It was a fucking bloodbath and quite possibly the most violence that Sector 42 had ever seen. Which was saying a lot.

  But, no matter what eyewitness was later interviewed, it all began with the announcer saying, “Ladies and gentlemen! I give you… CARLOTTA!”

  “What?” Rage exclaimed. “That’s not her real name?”

  “Of course not, you fuckwit!” Scutter yelled as she pulled a second pistol from out of her suit jacket and took aim at the spot between Rage’s eyes. “You think I’d actually tell you a goddess’s true name? You can be so dense sometimes, Max!”

  “Kill this fuck! No fucking pisser pulls a gun on me! I’m Roger Morlaw!” Morlaw bellowed. Then he paused and stared at Scutter, his eyes bulging out from under the many skin folds. “You called him Max? You know this pisser? You know him? What the fuck, Scutter?”

  “She’s my ex-wife, asshole,” Rage snarled into Morlaw’s ear. Or where Rage thought Morlaw’s ear might be. Very hard to tell with all the skin flaps in the way. “Surprise.”

  Morlaw began to thrash, but he didn’t really have any leverage, so he gave up quickly.

  “Just shoot him!” Morlaw snapped at Scutter.

  “Scutter. Put it away. I can get you out of this mess,” Rage said.

  “I don’t want out of here, Max!” Scutter shouted. “This is my job! I took this job on purpose! I’m damn fucking good at this job!”

  “I’m sure you are! But the job is over because I’m probably going to have to shoot this pile of failed flesh origami to death!” Rage shouted back. “I kill him and you won’t get another job in this galaxy because no one wants a head of security that is a failure!”

  “Then I don’t fail!” Scutter s
aid.

  Rage saw her finger start to squeeze the trigger and he lifted Morlaw up higher to block the shot. Rage felt the folded skin shudder as a plasma blast nailed Morlaw right in the…face?

  Rage let go of the scumbag as blood exploded all over him.

  “You bastard,” Scutter snarled. The pistol fired again, but Rage was already ducking under the table. “You fucking bastard!”

  Rage was out from under the table and scrambling on his hands and feet out into the chaos that was Morlaw’s club. Patrons were screaming and running toward the exit. Bartenders and waitresses were diving for cover. Strippers were running around naked and screaming for no discernible reason that Rage could see. They were just adding to the chaos. Although the sight of a random naked body shoving past panicked patrons did amuse Rage somewhat.

  A plasma blast scorched the floor by Rage’s right hand and he dove under the closest table as six more blasts peppered the spot where Rage had been only a half second before.

  “I’m coming for you, Max!” Scutter screamed, her voice audible even above the panicked crowd, the thumping music that was still playing, and the pleas for mercy from over by the booth where Mosh was systematically dismantling the guard that had dared to try to take Book from him.

  “I ain’t in the mercy business!” Mosh roared as he snapped the guard’s forearm, tore the bones out of the shattered limb, and stabbed the guy repeatedly in the chest with his own ulna.

  Rage saw Fig trying to calm Mosh down while Watchdog stood guard, various weapons extended from multiple places on the bot’s body.

  The table over Rage exploded into splinters of metal and plastic as Scutter emptied her pistol into the former piece of furniture. Rage scrambled away from the demolished table, stood, and sprinted toward the bar, seeing that as the best place for cover from his enraged ex-wife.

  “No you don’t, dick!” Rage’s waitress shouted, aiming a good old double-barreled shotgun at Rage’s head.

  Rage slid down to the floor feet first as the waitress fired, sending shot spraying out over Rage’s head and into the crowd of fleeing patrons. Several patrons fell. Rage continued to slide since the floor was wet with spilled drinks, multi-racial blood, and what had to be urine. A lot of urine.

  His boots hit the bottom of the bar and Rage used the solidity of the bar and his momentum to carry him back upright. He grabbed the shotgun out of the waitress’s hands as she cracked the breach and tried to reload.

  “No,” Rage said and punched her between the eyes, knocking her out cold and sending her to the floor.

  Rage jumped up onto the bar then dove down to where the unconscious waitress lay as more plasma fire tried to rip him apart. Scutter had obviously reloaded her pistol or found a different one that still had a charge. Shotgun shells were scattered on the sticky floor behind the bar, and Rage grabbed as many as he could and shoved them into his pockets. He loaded the shotgun and gripped it in one hand while he hunted for another weapon.

  Then he saw the cutlery drawer that was half open and had already been ransacked. A meat clever stuck out handle first and Rage tried to snag it. Then he yanked his hand back as a second meat cleaver was embedded into the drawer, wielded by one of the bartenders.

  “You killed Niecy!” the bartender screamed, his eyes on the downed waitress. “She was the love of my life!”

  Rage emptied one of the shotgun’s barrels into the bartender’s crotch. The man screeched then collapsed onto the waitress.

  “She ain’t dead, dumbass,” Rage said. “But you sure as fuck are. Nobody tries to cut, Max Rage. Max Rage does the cutting.”

  “I can hear you talking about yourself in the third person, Max!” Scutter yelled as her face appeared over the bar.

  Rage emptied the second barrel at her, but Scutter managed to duck back in time. Rage snagged two loose shells from the floor, but tossed them aside. They were too coated in the bartender’s crotch blood to be useable.

  The music continued to pound, pound, pound. The announcer had stopped talking, probably escaped out the back of his little DJ booth in the corner, but he didn’t turn off the pulsing, thumping, never-ending song that sounded like it was on a loop.

  “I’m not going to quit until you’re dead, Max!” Scutter called from the other side of the bar. “You hear me, asshole?”

  A body flew through the air and smashed into the rows and rows of bottles on the bar’s far wall, sending liquor, glass, and a shattered mirror raining down on Rage. He was ready, though, and fired as soon as Scutter tried to use the distraction to attack.

  “Ow! You fucking dick! That’s my good arm!” Scutter screamed.

  Rage crouch ran his way to the end of the bar, peeked out to make sure the coast was clear, ducked back as a tentacle snapped out at him, then dove and rolled clear of the bar and fired, shredding the owner of the tentacle’s face right off. Or maybe it was the guy’s butt. Rage couldn’t tell. But the thing died screaming as it bled blue blood out onto the club’s floor.

  Rage kept rolling and found a severed arm with a heavy pistol gripped in it. He grabbed that and spun on his back, taking aim at where he thought Scutter would be. She was nowhere in sight. Rage scanned the club the best he could from his shitty vantage point. No Scutter.

  “That’s not good,” he said to himself.

  Using his feet to propel him through the bloody, pissy, sticky muck that coated the club’s floor, Rage stayed down on his back, the heavy pistol swinging back and forth as he tried to anticipate Scutter’s next move.

  Hands grabbed Rage from above and behind and he nearly got a shot off before he was yanked to his feet. A feminine hand slapped him across the face then rested on the heavy pistol’s barrel.

  “It’s me, dipshit!” Neela yelled, back in her chosen form. “What the fuck happened out here?”

  “My ex-wife is Morlaw’s head of security!” Rage yelled.

  “So?” Neela replied.

  “We don’t get along,” Rage said as if that was explanation enough.

  Neela shook her head and pointed at the stage. “Whatever! Listen, I have her true name and I’ve tried yelling it up at her, but there’s too much noise! We need to get to the DJ booth and crank up the PA volume!”

  Rage followed where Neela was pointing and truly saw the goddess for the first time. The being was certainly female, with all the female parts in one way or another. She was also massive. The being that undulated and danced on that stage was easily half a metric ton, if not more. Flesh wobbled and jiggled as the goddess moved herself to the thump, thump, thumping music.

  Rage was in love with the love goddess.

  “Snap out of it!” Neela said, slapping him upside the back of the head. “She’ll suck you in and hypnotize you if you don’t watch your ass! Help me get to the DJ booth!”

  “Yeah, sure,” Rage said and turned to cover Neela as they made their way across the club to the enclosed booth in the corner.

  Scutter stood a few meters away, her sunglasses askew, blood dripping from a wound in her right arm, and murderous Rage on her face. She lifted her pistol and fired. Rage shoved Neela out of the way and grunted as plasma tore a hunk out of his left side. He fell hard and covered Neela’s body with his as more plasma ripped into his back.

  Rage waited for the attack to stop so his body could heal up, but the attack didn’t stop. Scutter knew his body too well and must have had backup pistols ready. Rage could endure the pain and agony, but it was only a matter of time before his body gave out and he died like some normal idiot.

  Then Scutter screamed and the attack stopped.

  Neela pushed Rage off and he rolled over onto his scorched and shredded back. He saw Mosh standing in the middle of the club, Scutter lifted up into the air, her neck gripped by Mosh’s left arm.

  “You told them to take Book from me!” Mosh said then sent his fist straight through Scutter’s head.

  “No!” Rage yelled, but it was over.

  His ex-wife’s body fell to the floor
as Mosh let go. The metal man turned and grinned at Rage then frowned in confusion.

  “What?” Mosh shouted over to Rage. “What’d I do?”

  “Get up,” Neela said and helped Rage onto his feet. His back was already healing up. “She was trying to kill you. Trying to kill us both.”

  “I know,” Rage said through gritted teeth as he stared at Scutter’s mostly headless body. “Still. We had been married once.”

  “What?” Mosh shouted and cupped a hand to an ear. “What are you saying?”

  Several plasma blasts nailed Mosh in the back of his head and he shook the attack off then turned and raced at the guards that stood a few meters away, impotent rifles in their hands. Rage turned his attention from the impending slaughter and nodded at the DJ booth.

  “Come on,” he said and pressed Neela’s body close to his. “I’ll be the cover.”

  Rage led her through the carnage of the club, taking the shots as they came. He never slowed even when part of his left shoulder was ripped off his body as a knife was thrown at them. Rage took the hit and kept moving. His left ear was lost as a laser sliced it off, but it immediately started to grow back.

  They reached the DJ booth and Rage yanked open the door. He shoved Neela inside, followed right after, and slammed the door closed as about two hundred flechettes collided with the metal armor that covered the outside of the booth door.

  “Reinforced in case someone doesn’t like the music choice,” Rage observed as plasma blasts scorched the booth’s windows, but didn’t penetrate. “Speaking of, how do we turn the music completely off?’

  “Don’t,” Neela said, slapping Rage’s hand away from the master volume knob. “She’s safer if she’s dancing.”

  Rage glanced out the booth’s window at the undulating goddess that was still performing on stage as if all the murder and mayhem that filled the club wasn’t happening. A patron got too close to the stage and the goddess snatched the woman up and devoured her on the spot, never pausing in her strip routine. The goddess spat out a shoe on the beat.

  “Oh. You mean we’re safe from her as long as the music is going,” Rage said. “It keeps her on stage.”