Friday 31 October 2014

Smith Chief vs. the Robotrax! (A short story by me)

To be brief, Smith Chief and the brawniest of his team, Kidd Thunder, the man with the iron thighs, America Jones, crusader of bacon-fueled freedom, Broseph Maximus, whose giant guns are only matched by his heavy weaponry, and Matt Boom, demolitions, pyrotechnics, and balloon animal expert, set out to Mars to fight a threat known only as the Robotrax. In the base of the Robotrax, the team lost Broseph down a bottomless chasm and was forced to leave him behind. Now, they are surrounded by hordes of Robotrax- how will our heroes survive?!?!?!?!?!
***
Thick sweat flies through the air as America Jones’ meaty mitt plunges into the Robotrax’s crunchy skull, penetrating the metallic bone with ease.
“Captain Major General Smith Chief, I’m running out of bacon to fuel my body, sir,” shouts America, his heavy, bulging arm protruding from the Robotrax’s head. Smith Chief acknowledges America, and heaves a thick hunk of meat towards him with one of his arms, the other mighty gun holding back nothing short of thirty aliens with an awesome flex. Kidd Thunder swings his legs in a fierce sweep, knocking down a dozen Robo-freaks to the floor, which is smothered in blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids. Each Robotrax, upon landing, falls backwards onto the moist floor.
Kidd stands back and laughs heartily. “These Robotrax are nothing! They have less manliness than our effeminate friends in France!” He leaps high, striking poses while singing a round of ‘Roast Beef of Old England’, and lands, creating a massive shockwave causing Robotrax to slip backwards and snap their necks. Matt Boom, never one to be overshadowed by his ‘bros’, steps up, swinging seven live sticks of dynamite in each hand, and clenching down on three grenades by the key in his jowls. Yelling, he pitches the dynamite into conglomeration after conglomeration of Robotrax, and as the grenades drop from his gaping mouth, he kicks each high in the air. Taking his hand-crafted shotgun from his well-equipped tool belt, he shoots each grenade, each taking their toll on the ceiling. Rubble falls, crushing the altered aliens like flies under a slipper (a concrete slipper). The result is glorious: explosions light up the once dank hall; the wall is redecorated with Robotrax guts.
Matt leans against a wall and lights a cigar: “That seems to be the last of those bony bastards. What now?”
“I’m sure a challenge still awaits us- we need to find answers on what these beasts actually are.” Smith Chief wipes the last of the entrails out of his golden pectoral hair, and glances around for a sign of the shirt he had earlier tossed aside.
“Why does it matter what they are,” asked Ash, her dark hair almost hiding her spectacles.
“Men, prepare yourselves. We venture inward to the true depths of this Martian hellhole.” The group strikes a montage upon reassembly. Smith Chief takes center, fists firmly placed on his waist. America Jones stands to the left, his arms crossing in a crude manner, and Kidd Thunder squats deeply on the right. Matt stands nonchalantly behind Kidd brandishing a fist of Molotov cocktails and a second cigar. The space usually occupied by Broseph is empty, due to he having fallen down a pit. Ash releases doves from a cage behind the beefy posing men. The still is held for an approximate 108 seconds; Smith breaks rank and orders them forward.
“Ash, retrieve the birds. We fight for Earth!” The room erupts with shouts of men, thirsty for action.
***
In a secluded room, a man sits behind a dark mahogany desk (the evilest looking wood available): “Each of you shall face your greatest trial, men of Earth,” he says (even though he was verily human), “let us see how confident you are when you are all alone.”
***
Smith’s group, having left the room they had recently cleared, traverse down a grand hall. The footsteps of the men create a vibrant chorus off the walls. They reach a pair of gigantic doors, richly embezzled with jewels. Smith accepts his own challenge and heaves them open. Beyond the doors is a large room with five different tunnels. The doors close behind the group as they step in.
“Choose.”
***
In about three hours, Ash has forced every dove back into the cage they had emerged from. She believed this to be a personal record: sometimes the doves flew into extremely obscure places, and Ash would have to trouble to find them, as she didn’t have enough pocket money for another dove. Ash picks up the cage and heads towards the ship, which is lodged in the wall of the cavern thanks to Broseph's reckless driving. Ash was always taken to be an ill-fated bystander instead of a part of Smith Chief’s sausage fest, due to a comparatively weaker body and poor eyesight, and she seemed to always be stuck with the menial tasks instead of being able to join the fight. Indeed, she is alone in the body-strewn lair of the Robotrax (each of whom seemed to be all but alive now), and searches for the ship keys within the various deep pockets of her cargo pants. The keys are in one of the last pockets checked, and Ash pulls them out and opens the door to the ship. She steps inside, and finds Broseph Maximus (in all his glory) sitting back in the captain's chair, a mandolin in his lap and a beer to his side. Ash drops the cage, disturbing the doves inside.
Broseph responds in his own signature way, “Don' tell me this is the last beer.”
***
“Mr. Chief...what a surprise. I'd never have expected you to undertake this mission, if I hadn't assigned it to you myself with the intention of luring you into such an obvious trap.” says Var Tybalt. Smith, who is trapped inside a cylindrical fish tank among some very ferocious guppies, bangs the reinforced glass. He and his comrades had each chosen a separate tunnel, and Smith's path had led straight into the mastermind's trap; Var was now sitting back laughing at nothing in particular (which was rule number 49 in the book entitled 'How to be an evil genius for dummies', a personal favorite of Var's). Smith Chief knows his time is running out: if he doesn't escape, he will either die of drowning or become prey to the guppies...
***
As exciting as this story might be if the author were to craft a genius escape for Smith, or show the trials of the others in his team, it would be a waste of time because they aren't about to do anything spectacular.
For time's sake, here is a brief history leading up to this event: Smith destroys Var's business on impulse, Var is upset and files a lawsuit. Smith punches the lawsuit, and it goes home crying. Var now out of a home and work, flees to his space station and turns a harmless alien race into a less-harmless alien race and tricks Smith's team into storming the base and falling into his elaborate traps.
Now that all the twists and turns of this story are spoiled, let's repair the fourth wall and return to the characters that actually matter in this story.
***
Ash nods, “So that's how you escaped that pit of death. What a feat of unimaginable genius and awesomeness.” Broseph takes another sip of beer. “I need your help now, Maximus. Smith Chief and everyone else have gone in to find the person behind this.”
“Already gone in before me- figgers. C'mon little dude, let's go and crush this evil-doer once an' for all.” Broseph stands, and crushes the beer can in his fist. The duo head down the path that Smith Chief has blazed. They reach the doors, and Broseph pushes them open with a mite of Ash's help. There is only one path remaining, the rest are blocked in some way or another. Ash takes the lead, and heads into the darkness. Ash feels her arms get grabbed, then suddenly her ankles are similarly constrained. Letting out a yell, she is lifted as the constraints get tighter. Broseph swoops into action, pulling out a laser sword, and dis-arms the robot, setting Ash free. Broseph sheathes the sword, and adjusts his sunglasses. He stands still for a moment, then decides that he's too intoxicated to think of an appropriate one-liner. Turning to Ash, he helps her up.
“A trap set for me. If I'd been caught, I wouldn'tve been able to use any of my weapons; it would've broken my limbs too,” he says. Ash shivers, and walks ahead once again, her stride half as wide as it was before. Broseph sighs and puts his hands behind his head. “So if you're aware that Smith don' allow girls on th' team, why'd you join in the first place?”
Ash freezes. “How did you. I thought I-”
“Little girl-dude, anyone that screams that high, an' wears makeup to look more like a male-dude has gotta be a girl. You got black running down your face.” Ash feels her face, realizing that a stream of mascara was indeed emerging from under her glasses. She had been prepared for her glasses falling off, not her crying off her guard.
“I guess that means this is my last mission,” she says. She wipes her stained cheeks, a thick deal of foundation being removed. The moment of impuissance has passed; Ash takes off the glasses and places them in a pocket. “No point in wearing those anymore.”
“You could always head back to th' ship and pretend this never happened. I'm too drunk to remember this.”
“Last thing I want is pity, Maximus. I'm going to finish this job whether Smith kicks me or not.” Broseph shrugs and follows Ash to the end of the passage. The end is blocked off by a grate, and Ash leans towards it, peering though the holes. Inside is a man she doesn't recognize and a large fish tank with another man inside.
“That's Smith!” Broseph whispers loudly. Ash jumps at the sudden proclamation, and lands hard on the grate; Ash falls through to the ground below. Var looks to her sharply.
“A girl?” Var doesn't have time to say anything else as Broseph falls beside Ash and guns him down. Ash stands and brushes herself off.
“That was extremely anti-climactic,” Broseph complains, “At least have a few more explosions...or something.”
“Fools. You arrived too late. All your comrades have died already,” Var squeezes out his last words between coughs of blood, “But seriously, I trapped them over half an hour ago. What took you so long?” Var Tybalt breathes his last breath. Ash and Broseph look at each other.
“I guess we saved Earth,” Ash said, squirming. The two look back at the vicarious scene and vow to not speak of this incident ever again. They head back to the ship and fly back to Earth.
***
A hand reaches out from a mucilaginous black goo, and Kidd Thunder pulls himself out from the depths.
“No one ever underestimates my thighs,” he says, alone among the stars.

TO BE CONTINUED?!?!?!?!?
---

So that's the story, hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments. This is not intended to be a serious story, more a pile of action-heavy drivel inspired by movies such as Pacific Rim. Updates to the story may come at a later date. :)

Peace!

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