Max Rage: Intergalactic Badass!

by Jake Bible

  Rage frowned, but stopped shaking his groove thing in Watchdog’s face and sat down. The bot laughed.

  “Thank you for that,” Watchdog said to the waitress. “A tip has been transferred in your name.”

  The waitress began to say something sarcastic then her eyes glazed over and went wide as she checked the amount. “Damn. Uh… Sorry if I’ve been a bitch all night. You need anything, sir? We do have bot-specific entertainment choices available.”

  “Whoa, what?” Rage asked, his words slurring. There were a lot of empty whiskey bottles on the table. “Bot specific? You mean like robot dancers and shit?”

  “Mr. Morlaw does not buy into bigotry against bots. They are customers too. We do have some automatons that are quite talented,” the waitress said. “They perform when there are several bots present. Tonight, he is the only one, so they have not been scheduled. But I can change that.”

  “Oh, do change that,” Rage said. “I gotta see this.”

  “My kind is not here for your amusement,” Watchdog said.

  “Gonna agree to disagree on that point, Bolt Butt,” Rage said. “Bring on the dancing bots!”

  Watchdog sighed and the waitress gave him a sympathetic look.

  “I’ll let my manager know,” the waitress said. “We’ll get one scheduled right now.”

  She walked off and hurried over to the bar where she leaned over and spoke to one of the bartenders.

  “Bot dancing,” Rage said. “Nice.”

  “You’re drunk,” Watchdog snapped. “So unprofessional.”

  Rage slowly, sloppily, turned to look at the bot. His eyes could barely focus. Then he blinked and there was nothing but a fully alert Rage staring at Watchdog.

  “Burns off fast,” Rage said. “Gotta trust the process, Bolt Butt.”

  The music switched up and a spotlight hit the end of the stage closest to the team’s booth. From out of the ceiling, a well-built bot slid down the pole and began to gyrate and dance at a speed that would have torn a flesh dancer apart. Watchdog instantly perked up.

  “Jesus, she’s giving me a headache,” Rage said.

  “The dancer does not have a gender,” Watchdog said. “And shut up.”

  Fig’s eyes refocused and he gasped as he shook his head and almost fell forward onto the table. Mosh reached out and caught him before his forehead could land in a pile of wing bones.

  “You find what we need, Pinky?” Rage asked as he leaned back in the booth and sipped from yet another whiskey bottle.

  “I did,” Fig replied.

  Rage caught the tone and frowned. “So? What’s the problem?”

  “I traced the access points of the sub-level to make sure we could get her back down there and away from here,” Fig said. “It will be difficult, but doable.”

  “We can’t take her out the front door?” Rage asked.

  “That is not how her grav sled is designed,” Fig said.

  “Grav sled?” Mosh asked. “Those can be fun.”

  “Are we gonna be below the whole time?” Rage asked. “Might not be a bad way to travel.”

  “No, there is no direct route back to the Hourglass that way,” Fig said. “We’ll travel for a good distance, but we will have to surface in the flea market atrium area.”

  “Fine. We do that,” Rage said. He watched Fig closely. “But that’s not what’s bothering you. What’s up, Pinky?”

  “The bouncer that took a liking to you?” Fig said.

  “Yeah? What about her?” Rage replied.

  “She just got off shift and is looking for you,” Fig said.

  “Okay. Not ideal, but I’ll figure it out,” Rage said. “That’s what’s bugging you?”

  “No,” Fig said. “I just saw her talking to Roger Morlaw and telling him that you have the best Max Rage costume of everyone here. He grew very interested.”

  “Okay, that’s not so ideal,” Rage said. “I can still play it off. Morlaw doesn’t know me personally.”

  “Yeah, except…” Fig gulped. “Do you know a woman that goes by the name of Scutter Slang?”

  That got Rage’s attention. He sat up straight and began to scan the club.

  “She’s not in here yet,” Fig said. “But she is in the back with Morlaw. She is in charge of his security team.”

  “Who is Scutter Slang?” Mosh asked as he finally leaned back and patted his belly. The massive amount of wings he ate didn’t even give his metal gut a hint of a bulge. “Some Earth Corp buddy you worked for once?”

  “No,” Rage said. “She’s my ex-wife.” Rage grabbed Watchdog and yanked the bot’s attention away from the dancer. “Care to tell me how that bit of intel didn’t make it into the report when we were planning all this?”

  “There is no record of Scutter Slang working for Roger Morlaw,” Watchdog stated. “Although, if my lady knew about this on her own, then that would better explain your presence on this job. Now you have use, Rage. You get to distract your ex-wife and in turn distract Roger Morlaw’s entire security team. Hiring you makes sense.”

  “I bet Lisha is laughing her sweet ass off right now about this,” Rage said.

  “Knowing my lady, yes, I would agree with that assessment,” Watchdog said.

  Rage grumbled for a few seconds then shook it off and smiled.

  “Odds are she won’t even notice me,” Rage said. “If Morlaw does show up, then she’ll be busy protecting his flabby ass.”

  “Um…” Fig muttered.

  “What, Pinky?” Rage snapped.

  “He is showing up,” Fig said and nodded to a booth all the way across the club. “It is almost Midnight Murder Mash time. Apparently, he never misses the snuff portion of the evening’s entertainment.”

  Rage watched as three bouncers tossed the occupants of the booth out onto the floor. They picked themselves up and went and found another booth without argument. Then the booth spun about and an identical booth appeared from the other side. But the booth was already occupied by a mound of flabby flesh with two eyes and a bad hairpiece where the head should have been.

  Sitting next to the mound of flabby flesh was a woman with short white hair, deep black skin, and dressed in a nice suit. She was not huge. She did not look imposing or intimidating. And she wore very dark sunglasses. Rage watched as she scanned the crowd. He ducked down, knowing full well that she could see everything in the club with those glasses if she focused long enough.

  “She’s pretty,” Mosh said.

  “Pretty fucking deadly,” Rage responded, slumping down in the booth more. “Okay, okay, I’ll keep low and maybe she won’t notice me.”

  “There you are!” the bouncer from earlier said as she lumbered up to the table. She held a glass of milky liquid and tipped it toward Rage. “Sperm?”

  “Uh, no, thanks,” Rage said. “You just get off shift?”

  “Yep,” the bouncer said and shoved Mosh over so she could sit down. “Good thing. The Midnight Murder Mash is about to happen.” She offered the glass of sperm to Rage again. “Sure you don’t want a slug of this? It’ll help for later when you and I get all naked and sweaty. Don’t want to break you in the sack like I did this one guy the other night. Poor bastard. Snapped his pelvis in seventeen places. Made him finish me off, though. No way he gets out of my bed for free, am I right?”

  She held up a palm and Rage reluctantly slapped it.

  “Damn right,” she said then saw where Watchdog and Fig were staring. “Mr. Morlaw. Hey, you want to meet him?”

  She was up out of the booth in a flash. She downed the glass of sperm and tossed the empty over her shoulder, nailing a man in the back of the head. He started to argue, saw who threw the glass, and returned his attention to the stage.

  “Come on,” she said to Rage. “I’ll take you over to Mr. Morlaw. I already told him about your costume. He’s gonna want to shake your hand!”

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” a voice announced. “It is now time for our pre-entertainment before our special presentatio
n! I know many of you sickos are here just to see this! Let’s get ready for Midnight Murder Mash!”

  The crowd began to clap and cheer as the dancers on stage left quickly and the platform slid apart just under each pole. Then, manacled to the poles, four figures ascended. Two men and two women. They were terrified and already looked like they’d been worked over good.

  “These are tonight’s tip losers!” the announcer called out. “Can’t have losers working for a man of such esteem as Mr. Roger Morlaw, can we?”

  Morlaw raised a hunk of flesh and flapped it at the cheering crowd. Rage guessed that was the pile of skin’s way of waving.

  “Come on!” the bouncer shouted at Rage. “We have to go meet him before the disemboweling starts!”

  “I do not think you have a choice, Rage,” Watchdog said. “Will we be able to have a good time without you if, say, you are detained over there?”

  “Yeah,” Rage said as he reluctantly got up and left the booth. “When our friend arrives, listen to her. If I can’t join you right away, I’ll catch up for the rest of tonight’s fun.”

  “Oh, you guys on a pub crawl?” the bouncer asked as she looped her bulging arm in Rage’s once he was away from the booth. “Great! I love a good pub crawl before a night of monstrous sex!”

  “Have fun!” Mosh called as the bouncer dragged Rage away. He smiled at Watchdog. “She seems cool.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Rage could tell that Scutter recognized him before he was even halfway across the club. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he felt the familiar glare even from behind those dark sunglasses. Rage looked about for a way out of the mess, but he was stuck. The security detail had been quintupled when the Midnight Murder Mash started, so playing it cool was Rage’s only option as far as he could tell.

  That and the bouncer that had her arm wrapped in his was freakishly strong. Rage didn’t know if she was genetically enhanced or not, but if she wasn’t, then that Narghal sperm had really done the trick. He wasn’t sure he could break free from her if he wanted to.

  “Well, well, well, will ya look at this fella here?” Roger Morlaw said as the bouncer presented Rage before the club owner’s table. There were a dozen very large security guards stationed near the table, all watching Rage closely. “You weren’t joking. This guy really went for it!”

  Morlaw flapped his skin at the rest of the club.

  “Wish these pissers would take my fun more seriously. Look at them. Barely a costume in the bunch.” He cupped some skin close to his flappy mouth hole. “Bunch a pissers, you lot is! Whole bunch of bloody pissers filled with blood and piss!”

  A few patrons glanced at Morlaw. He jabbed a flesh wad toward one of them.

  “That pisser there. He eyed me. You all saw it. Little pisser eyed me. Break his dick off and bring it to me.”

  One of the security guards raced over and picked the offending patron up by the back of the neck. He reached down the guy’s pants then shook his head and shouted something back at the table.

  “What’d he say?” Morlaw asked. “Can’t hear a damn thing over that asshole screaming up on stage.”

  “He said the guy isn’t a guy and doesn’t have a dick to break off,” Scutter said casually, her voice easy to hear even with the screaming going on stage. “Would you like to have her female sex organs extracted from inside her and brought to you, sir?”

  “What? What would that even look like?” Morlaw asked and laughed. “I mean, I can picture a dick in my hand, but if that he is a she, then what would I be holding? More skin? I don’t need more skin, Scutter.” He waved at the guard. “Leave her! Go get someone else’s dick!”

  The guard nodded, moved to the closest patron that appeared to be male, jammed his hand down the guy’s pants, and yanked hard. The patron screamed then collapsed onto the floor as the guard returned with a severed penis in his hand. It was an impressive penis.

  “Yikes,” Morlaw said. “Feel sorry for taking that bloke’s dick now. I bet his whole life revolves around his dick. Not anymore. Poor bloke. Send him a bottle of our best champagne.”

  “Uh, you still want the dick, sir?” the guard asked, still holding the penis.

  “What? No, I don’t still want the dick,” Morlaw snapped. “Didn’t you hear my remorse? Fuck off, you. Scutter?”

  “Yes, sir?” Scutter replied.

  “Tell your guy to fuck off,” Morlaw ordered.

  “Fuck off,” Scutter said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the guard replied and took a few steps back. He looked around, looked at the penis in his hand, then tucked the severed dick into his pants pocket before taking up his position again.

  Morlaw turned his attention back to Rage.

  “You two still here? Fuck off, the both of ya,” Morlaw growled.

  “Yeah, you bet, sir!” the bouncer exclaimed, happy to oblige.

  Rage nodded and held his breath as the bouncer turned them to leave.

  “Hold on,” Scutter said. Rage let the breath out. “He can stay.”

  The bouncer turned them back to face the table.

  “We can? That’s so generous of—” the bouncer started to say.

  “Not you. Him. You may leave,” Scutter said. “Now.”

  The bouncer looked hurt and confused. But she let go of Rage and gave him a pat on the shoulder. Then she turned, her own shoulders slumped, and walked across the club until she was out the door and gone.

  “Jesus Christ, that was sad as all fuck,” Morlaw said. “Why’s this bloke staying, Scutter?”

  Rage ignored the crescendo of pain and anguish that was taking place on the stage behind him and tried to keep his focus on a spot on the wall right behind Scutter’s head.

  “Because he’s…interesting,” Scutter said.

  “He is?” Morlaw fixed Rage with a curious look. “This bag of muscles? I bet he’s overcompensating. I doubt his dick is even a fraction of the size of the one what’s his name tore off. Hey! What’s your name?”

  “Dennis, sir,” the guard replied.

  “Dennis! Show me the dick again!” Morlaw ordered. Dennis pulled the dick out of his pocket. Morlaw pointed at Rage. “Let’s see yours. Come on. Whip it out so we can laugh at your little wanker.”

  “No need, sir,” Scutter said and tapped her glasses. “I can tell he’s less than adequate.”

  “Yeah, but I want to see it!” Morlaw exclaimed. Then he looked about and sort of did this strut and shake of his flesh. “I mean, not in a sexual way because I don’t roll like that. I’m all about the bestiality. All animals for me. No sentient races get near my body. That’s gross.”

  “Yes, sir,” Scutter said. “That is why I am saving you the horror of seeing another penis tonight. One that is still intact, sir. No need to subject you to that.”

  “That’s why I pay you so much, Scutter,” Morlaw said. “You take good fucking care of me. Like my nanny did when I was young and solid.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Scutter said then pointed at Rage. “Have a seat, adequate dick.” Rage hesitated. “I said to sit.”

  “She said to sit, you little pisser!” Morlaw shouted and laughed. “God! Tonight is turning out to be a blast!”

  Rage eyed the only spot open at the booth. Right next to Scutter. She patted the leather and he sighed then sat down. Scutter leaned in and put her mouth to his ear.

  “Why are you here, Max?” she asked.

  “What’s that? You whispering sweet nothings in the pisser’s ear?” Morlaw guffawed. “Oh, I see! You want that dick for yourself! Ha! Yeah! You go, girl!” His eyes widened. “Like, right now. Clear the table! Take his ass on the table right now so I can see you two fuck while that chick up on stage gets her elbow shattered! Hot! But gross! BUT ALSO HOT!”

  “I’m scanning him, sir, not flirting,” Scutter said.

  “Oh… Sure. Yeah. I get that. Doing your job like a boss,” Morlaw said. “Except I’m the boss so don’t do your job too well, Scutter! HA!”

  The screa
ming on stage intensified and Rage tried to focus on that, but Scutter reached out and grabbed him by the chin, turning his face so their noses touched. She stuck out her tongue.

  “What ya doing now, Scutter?” Morlaw asked.

  “Direct interface, sir,” Scutter said. “Making sure he’s not a spy or assassin.”

  Morlaw’s entire demeanor changed. The whooping it up persona became hard and mean.

  “You think he’s here to kill me, Scutter?” Morlaw growled. “You find out. You find out now. Then kill him if you even catch a hint of nasty in that pisser’s brain.”

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do, sir,” Scutter said and stuck her tongue out once again.

  Rage seriously considered saying fuck it to the plan and fighting his way out of the booth, out of the club, and off the station. But Scutter shook her head and Rage ditched that idea. She’d have killed him before he made it out of the booth.

  Rage stuck out his tongue and touched it to the tip of Scutter’s and the club went away.

  In its place was a white room with two chairs. Scutter was seated in one chair and Rage was seated in the other. The only sound was a far-off din as if the noise from the club was coming from several buildings over.

  “What the holy fuck, Max?” Scutter asked. She took off her sunglasses and hooked a stem into her suit jacket’s breast pocket. Her eyes were caramel and hard. “What did I say the last time we saw each other?”

  “You’d kill me if we ever saw each other again,” Rage said. “Pretty sure you had that put into the divorce papers.”

  “I did. I specifically did,” Scutter said. She rolled her neck and the room was filled with the sound of her vertebrae cracking. “So…? What do you think I should do now?”

  “Tell me how the fuck you ended up being in charge of security for a pile of shit like Roger Morlaw,” Rage said.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “I know, but it has to be a good story.”

  “We’re not in here to talk about me, Max. We’re here to talk about you and whether or not you live or die. Start talking. I’m in a good mood tonight, so I may actually give you a mulligan on this one and allow you to walk out of here with at least one limb intact.”