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- LOBO
Lobo in…
ALIVE THIS TIME
By Jason McDonald
The First Herakles Wedding Chapel
Herakles-5 Planetary Hub
Now
Thick, heavy leather boots trod hard against extremely lavish carpet. His heel spurs sliced open jagged gashes along the fabric as the echoing rattle of the chain elicited gasps and shrieks of horror from the gathered audience.
The bride – rather, all thirty of the brides – gaped in disbelief at the colossal-sized monster dragging a heavy metal chain toward them; a chain which held a nasty-looking metal hook attached to the business end. The thirty blonde women barely noticed the guests leaving en masse – instead, they were mesmerized by the tightly-packed muscles along the stranger’s massive frame. And by the terrifying look of sadistic cruelty in his bright red eyes.
A few of the women recognized the black birthmarks twisting above and below both of his eyes, and immediately took defensive stances against the deadly stranger. The news broadcasts within the Tevara System and its many worlds had warned them about what kinds of things tended to follow anytime this particular stranger set foot on any world. One or two of them even knew what he did to the poor, dead planet of Czarnia…
The white-haired groom – however – stood resolute and silent in his crisp blue suit and green leather tie. He looked at his brides-to-be and then glanced back at the pasty-white-skinned wedding crasher with nuclear-hot fury behind his eyes.
Heavy black leather biker’s jacket. Torn wife beater. Spurred boots with steel tips. A shining belt hung heavy with daggers, knives and brass knuckles with serrated edges. Chalk white skin with unkempt, jet-black hair oozing out from every muscled orifice. And that look – that disturbing,cruel look – in his eyes that had already left his brides-to-be frozen in terror. It was the look a hungry lion would give an antelope when it was about to strike. He recognized the Main Man instantly.
“Lobo,” the groom growled through clenched teeth.
“Alabaster Crank,” Lobo grinned through his own yellowed teeth, gleefully biting down on his thick Ragelen cigar and puffing out a plume of smoke at the wedding party, “your fraggin’ wife says hello.”
Crank Interplanetary Exports
Chief Executive Suite
Three Days Earlier
“Greetings, ah, Mr. Lobo,” the grey-haired woman said to the Main Man as he entered the room. The communiqué Lobo had received the other day listed her name as the ludicrously-wealthy Mrs. Norma Crank, chief executive officer of Crank Interplanetary Exports. The thick diamond necklaces around her neck – tucked inside her suit – further indicated the tiny woman’s stature. She stood up from her executive desk and offered her small, weather-worn hand out to Lobo; she couldn’t have been more than forty or fifty.
Nevertheless, Lobo noticed how exceedingly well she’d aged – her once-gold locks bound back into a lively ponytail behind her head. Lobo raised his eyebrow, noting how her tailored business suit complimented what curves remained in her wiry figure. He took his eyes away from her chest and extended his massive hand forward, eclipsing her thin fingers in a shared handshake. He smiled, fresh meat still on his breath, “Actually, it’s just Lobo, darlin’. No ‘Mister.’ ”
“Ah, yes.” She smiled, pulling her slightly-crushed hand back and massaging it gently. Gingerly snapping her fingers back into place, she gestured to the chair, “please have a seat.”
The pasty-faced rogue sat down hard against the plush chair, ignoring the pained creak of its metallic frame against his tremendous weight. Lobo took a hard drag of the fat cigar and leveled his fiery red eyes at the woman in front of him, “So let’s cut to the chase, shall we? You go and post a hundred million dollar bounty on this no-good, low-down cheatin’ husband of yours, and you want me personally to bring the fraggin’ bastich back to you?”
Norma fiddled absently with the comically-large monocle hanging upon her left eye, “Oh yes, that. Yes, I’m afraid Mr. Crank has been a bad, bad boy.”
“You don’t say,” Lobo said as he took a serrated knife out of his pocket and started sharpening his teeth with it.
“Indeed,” She said, her business-like tone suddenly changing to one of raw, unrestrained rage, “he sent me – ME – his current wife, an invitation to this ridiculous wedding he’s having! Look here…!”
She trailed off, yanking a piece of crumpled parchment paper from her messy desk. Lobo inspected the document:
(written in crayon:) CURRENT WIFEY-POO(end crayon-writing)
(professionally engraved:)
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO CELEBRATE THE RETROACTIVE UN- MARRYING OF:
MR. ALABASTER CRANK
FROM THE EXCEEDINGLY-BORING, CROTCHETY, NAGGING, DEMANDING, CRABBY, AND BACKRAT-NUTTY:
MRS. NORMA CRANK
WITH A VERY GREAT TON OF WINE, FOOD AND HEAVY MALT LIQUOR! YOU ARE THEN INVITED TO CELEBRATE THE UNION OF:
MR. ALABASTER CRANK
TO:
THE ENTIRE PALTROS-3 SWIM TEAM, INCLUDING (BUT NOT LIMITED TO):
- AMBER-LYNN
- ARIEL
- ASHLEY
- ASHLEY-LYNN
- ASHLEY-SUE
- ASHLEY-WU
- BARBIE
- CATHERINE
- DARLENE
- DARIA
- DEVELYN
- EVE
- EVAN-RACHEL
- FIONA
- HANNA-BARBERA
- INDIGO
- ISHARA
- JACQUELINE
- KENDRA
- KATHI
- LAVIQUA
- MARY-SUE
- PERCI-BYSSHE-MICHELLEY
- NATALIE
- NATASHA-ARLENE
- PARIS
- SHANIQUA-TAMICQUA-SUE
- TARA
- WYNONA
- XENA
ALL OF US WOULD BE DELIGHTED BY YOUR PRESENCE AT OUR UNION IN UNHOLY MATRIMONY. PLEASE B.Y.O.B. TO THE FOLLOWING INTERPLANETARY ADDRESS:
THE FIRST HERAKLES WEDDING CHAPEL
FIFTH CYCLE OF XERXES
TWENTY-NINE O’CLOCK
HERAKLES PLANETARY HUB
AGAIN, B.Y.O.B.
PREFEABLY DEVULAN VODKA – FULL BOTTLES, PLEASE. NO CANS.
“…just tells me he’s leaving for work one morning, and the next morning I get this…invitation…and a picture of him and all thirty of those skankson his bloody Deep Space Yacht!” Norma growled, slamming her fist into the table with a hard crunch of bone as Lobo finished reading the document, “Damn bastard!”
Norma pulled her hand up, straightening her once-again misaligned fingers as Lobo harrumphed hard and loud, his laughter echoing across the massive executive suite, “Jumpin’ Czarnia’s Bones! This bastich’s got a real hate-on for you, don’t he?”
“Not as bad as my hate-on for him.”
“Do tell, baby.”
“I’ve already sent three of the meanest, roughest, deadliest bounty hunters after the cheating prick to haul his ass back to me. And he sends them back like – this – every single bleeding time!”
She clenched her wide teeth together in a grimace, yanking out a watery fishbowl from her desk drawer. With a loud thud, she set the object down and Lobo looked at the shrunken, burnt, charred head of what was presumably a green-skinned bounty hunter floating in a sea of reddened water.
As the head bobbed up and down in the liquid, Lobo rolled his eyes and sneered, “What a fraggin’ pussy! The bounty hunters are all soppy little punching bags these days. No class, no style, no staying-power at all.” He pointed back toward himself and grinned, “except for the Main Man, of course.”
“Of course,” Norma nodded, pulling the fishbowl off of the desk and tossing it back in the drawer. She ignored the crunch of glass and the pool of red liquid seeping out from the desk bottom and soaking into the carpet. Her face settled back again into her lovely, picture-perfect, all-business demeanor.
“You see, I’ve read up on you,” she said.
“Only bad things, I hope.”
“Oh, the worst,” she smiled devilishly at Lobo, licking her lips, “Lobo. The Last Czarnian. Purposely murdered his entire home planet at age ten during a science project. Logged more bar-fight kills in a single night than the entire population of Tarsis-3 logged during the last fiscal year. Won the award for Most Artistic Slaughter twelve straight years in a row.”
Lobo smiled with pride.
She continued, “almost instantaneous healing factor, extreme strength, and expert at the art of murder. Since becoming a bounty hunter, you’ve had an almost-perfect record for Dead-or-Alives, though you prefer to personally kill them all yourself.”
Lobo crossed his arms crankily. “Kill record would’ve been perfect if that geezer hadn’t died of old age before I could gut him and bring in the body.”
“Well, you did manage to bring Mr. Giffen back to life so you could legitimately claim the kill.”
“Well, yeah, after the fact. It’s the principle of the thing.”
“Nevertheless, despite your – extreme tendencies – I’ve contacted you because you are my best chance to get this job done right.”
“Damn straight, darlin’.” Lobo smirked, taking out a second serrated knife to sharpen the tip of his first serrated knife with. “So, what kind of job you want done to the fragger? Snap his spine? Tear off his limbs and face and feed them to him? Gouge out his eyes, then roast him alive? Or roast him alive and then gouge his eyes out? Or should I just give you the Duffel-Bag-Full-of-Body-Parts Special? It comes complete with a long and painful–”
“Oh, but I’m afraid I can’t agree to any of that. I’m afraid I’m going to need my husband back – ALIVE.”
“WHAT?” Lobo violently leapt out of his chair, blood pulsing hot through his face, “ARE YOU MAD, WOMAN?”
“You are the best there is at these Dead-or-Alive bounties, are you not?”
“YES! But I never choose the ALIVE option!”
“Hm. Unfortunate. I’m afraid I must insist – the hundred million dollar pay-out is contingent on his coming back alive.”
“GAAAHHHRRR!” Lobo yelled in a furious rage, slamming his fist against the desk, leaving a massive splintered crater underneath.
Wincing, Norma sighed and smiled politely, “I sense some frustration on your part.”
“You’re damn-fraggin’ right, I’m fraggin’ upset!” Lobo roared, “you said NOTHING about bringing in the wretched Son-of-a-Bloodwolf in alive!”
“Perhaps. But I said nothing about keeping his thirty brides alive, did I?”
Lobo sat motionless as his enraged mind processed the information, “The brides?”
“Yes. One hundred million for my husband’s body – alive – and the thirty extremely-dead bodies of his would-be brides. Keep in mind that they are from Paltros-3. And all the women on Paltros-3 are taught advanced ninjutsu and tae-kwon-do by their third year of childhood. By adulthood, their skills are remarkable. And devastatingly lethal. No doubt a worthy challenge for the Main Man himself?”
“Thirty. Ninja. Brides?”
“And all the guests if you wish. All two hundred of them. Kill as many of those fuckers as you like. But I want to finish Alabaster the Bastardmyself.”
Lobo stroked his grizzled black moustache thoughtfully, “Hmmm. I suppose we work with that…”
The First Herakles Wedding Chapel
Herakles-5 Planetary Hub
Now
“We can’t work like this!” Wynona, one of the ninja brides said as she delivered a right snap kick to Lobo’s temple. Wynona watched in horror as two of her co-brides were swept up in the Main Man’s backhand, snapping their spines instantly. Wynona pulled some Chinese throwing stars from her wedding dress and buried them deep into Lobo’s chest.
“Come on, ladies! That all you got?” Lobo growled, growing increasly infuriated that most of the ninja brides were keeping just out of reach. Throwing stars and knives jutted out from the bounty hunter’s body, his black wife beater nearly torn to ribbons by the women’s weaponry. His leather biker jacket was long gone, buried somewhere under the limbless pool of bodies surrounding them.
Lobo faked to the left and grabbed Wynona from the right, gaining a vicious chokehold against her neck. Wynona screamed as he pulled the woman toward him, “No! Get off me! Xena, Ariel, please just…” Wynona trailed off as Lobo impaled Wynona with one of the swords sticking out of his chest.
Lobo laughed mightily, “No matter what you do babes, you can’t keep the Main Man down!”
“Get him!” One of the girls screamed, unsheathing her sai and stabbing him through the eye with it, eliciting a sharp shriek of pain from the massive Lobo.
“You’re doing just fine girls,” Alabaster smiled. He stood at the altar with an entourage of three women, watching Lobo fight the other twenty-seven (or whatever remained of that number). The floor was littered with corpses, stained red with blood and pulp and mutilated tissue. Alabaster winced as Lobo swung his heavy metal hook into another one of the would-be brides. Her eviscerated body slammed through half a dozen pews before she came to a sickening, pulpy stop.
Alabaster pulled a small container out of his blue tuxedo and opened it, revealing a thick, white cream contained inside. He took off his wedding jacket and vest, and began rubbing the cream all over his bare skin. He leaned over toward the three women still standing next to him and said, “Please girls, go get daddy’s toys.”
“Yes, beloved!” The three girls chimed in unison before running off behind the altar into the back rooms. Alabaster grinned menacingly, gazing upon the battle before him. The wedding chapel was now empty of all living guests – he estimated from the number of limbs upon the ground that at least ten or fifteen of them had been dismembered or pummeled by the rampaging Lobo before the survivors had fled. Now it was just him, his brides-to-be, and the violent white bastard in front of him.
No loss, Alabaster thought, continuing to rub the mixture across his face and arms.
Heart beating with excitement, he called out to the girls that were still able to fight the deadly Lobo, “Remember, girls, keep the Main Man busy! Yes, that’s right, Fiona, go for the — oooch! Um. Yeah. Yes, that’s it. Yes, that’s it Laviqua. Avenge poor Fiona! Avenge her for your husband-to-be!”
There were six brides attempting to hold his legs down to halt his rampage. A few of them had the presence of mind to stab their spears, sais and any weapons they had left through his feet, nailing them down into the ground beneath the pulverized carpet. Lobo just laughed at the pain, tearing his own feet apart in order to escape their trap.
The girls’ hopes began to diminish as they realized how quickly he was healing from every impalement, every throwing star, every dagger, and every other weapon the ninja brides had been concealing under their freshly-bloodied bridal gowns. He was already gaining his sight back from his recently-punctured eye.
One of the girls, in desperation, swung a mace at his blood-covered skull. But all that did was piss him off. “Hey Alabaster! Your fraggin’ ladies ain’t avenging shit!”
Lobo elbowed her in the face, crushing her nose into her jaw as he yanked the mace out and tossed it at one of the girls rushing him, effectively snapping her leg in half. He pulled a throwing star that was stuck inside his chest and robbed another bride of her eyesight.
Suddenly, the Main Man was hit by seven deadly roundhouse kicks simultaneously from behind, delivered by seven of the other girls not in his line of sight. Slightly off-center, Lobo lobbed his metal hook toward the attackers, who leapt out of the way in artful somersaults and cartwheels. However, the metal blade sunk itself directly into one of the girls who was not fast enough to dodge the attack, impaling the poor woman through her stomach.
The impaled woman coughed up blood and slumped onto the ground, falling face-first against the top of the hook and dropping her katana to the ground with a heavy clunk. She looked up, her eyes filled with tears and her breathing belabored and shallow. Breathless and bleeding out, she gazed into his fierce red orbs one final time, knowing exactly what kind of thoughts lay behind his horrible, horrible eyes…
“Ghhkkk….no!” She spurted out weakly as he heaved the hook high – with her still attached to it – and slammed them both into four of the seven roundhouse-kicking women. The last two kickers backed off and gasped, watching the massive explosion of blood and body parts. The gore sprayed all over the remaining combatants – covering them head to toe in bloody foulness; sapping their will to fight the inevitable.
“Oh man…” Ashley-Lynn exclaimed.
“…gonna die, we’re all gonna…” Ashley-Sue shook with terror.
“To hell with that! This fucker’s going down,” Ashley-Wu said with fiery defiance. She picked up a length of wood from one of the shattered pews and stabbed Lobo in the spine with it, eliciting a growl of pain and rage from the Main Man.
“You see? We can fight it! If it bleeds, we can…” She trailed off as Lobo’s swinging fist swiftly relieved the woman of her head.
“My Gods!” Ashley-Lynn screamed.
“And you call yourselves ninjas,” Lobo guffawed, “I’ve fought four-year-olds that fight harder than you. And at least they had the decency to bringflamethrowers to the brawl. I expected more of a fraggin’ fight than this!”
“Mr. Lobo,” Ashley-Lynn said, keeping her hands out toward Lobo in a gesture of peace, “Surely, we can come to an understanding–”
Ashley-Lynn suddenly found herself limbless and airborne. She landed hard amongst the gooey red pulp that now coated every inch of the wedding chapel floor, sliding toward the altar like a desperate runner would slide toward home plate.
Alabaster Crank watched Ashley-Lynn come to a stop in front of his feet, and shook his head in disappointment. He was now covered head to toe in the cream he’d been rubbing all over his skin, and could feel the mixture – even now – seeping into his pores. Feeling a hot warmth wash over his skin, he threw away the empty container labeled Bastich Creme and smiled.
“Yo, Lobo!” Alabaster yelled as the rampaging bounty hunter made another poor girl explode in yet another pulpy wrongful death.
The Main Man looked up and raised an eyebrow, gooey entrails sliding off of his massive shoulders, “Can’t you see I’m busy eviscerating here? I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“You’ll be with me now,” a deep, guttural growl uttered from the thin man’s frame, his voice resonating throughout the chapel.
“Who the frag do you think you’re…” Lobo trailed off as he saw what was happening to the groom covered in translucent oil.
Alabaster’s body began to grow in seizing fits and starts. His muscles began to spasm, suddenly flexing and expanding in violent spurts. Alabaster’s veins became dark red and ballooned up into large spider web patterns across his skin and arms. Alabaster’s bones creaked and groaned as his frame shifted and widened, and the groom gained three feet in height and a foot in width in a matter of seconds. Lobo ignored every attack from the surviving brides, tilting his head in bemused astonishment at his target’s sudden transformation.
Alabaster laughed heartily at each bone-crunching change to his anatomy, “Norma should’ve told you that Bastich Creme is the main product we create and sell at Crank Interplanetary Exports. My ex-wifey-poo should’ve let you know that Bastich Creme is a super-steroid, absorbed by the pores…”
The surviving ninja brides that had been attacking Lobo backed off, just as Alabaster’s three helpers came out from the back room, holding two massive chainsaws which were both as long as the brides were tall. Alabaster gazed at the weapons gleefully, yanking them out of the girls’ hands. He gripped one chainsaw in each hand.
“Finally,” Lobo said, rubbing his hands together in excitement, “I was startin’ to get a little bored.”
“Have caution, son,” Alabaster said, revving up the chainsaws, “Few people who fight Bastich-Cremers ever survive. That’s why our product is so popular.”
Lobo pulled two pairs of brass knuckles with serrated edges from his belt and slid them onto his thick fingers, “You gonna stand around and talk my fraggin’ ear off, or are we gonna do this?”
“Have it your way,” Alabaster said as the two massive brutes charged toward each other.
Crank Interplanetary Exports
Chief Executive Suite
Three Days Later
Lobo plopped the severed head of Mr. Alabaster Crank onto the desk. Unfortunately, that desk was currently occupied by a particularly infuriated Mrs. Norma Crank. She glared at the head with a sudden fury. Thick veins pulsated along her temples as she balled her hands tightly into fists.
“Damn it, Lobo! I told you to bring him in alive – ALIVE – you hear me? Arms and legs still attached to the torso, eyes open, still breathing, heart beating in a chest which still exists, that sort of thing. Didn’t I make it clear to you that I wanted him alive?”
“Ran into a snag,” Lobo pulled out a can of beer and popped the top, enjoying the loud fizzing sound it made. Beer flew all over the place as he took a sip. “He wasn’t very cooperative.”
“Of course he wasn’t cooperative – he hasn’t been cooperative since the moment we were married. He’s a cheater, a liar, a user, and an opportunistic bastard, is what he is! I wanted him to suffer, you get me? How can I make him suffer if he’s dead?”
“Oh, he ain’t dead,” Lobo said, downing the rest of the can.
“Bullshit,” The woman groaned, slumping into her chair and massaging her temples in frustration, “I told you that payment was contingent on him being alive. This thing you gave me is not alive, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to take it out of your pay.”
“I already fraggin’ told you, he ain’t dead,” Lobo grimaced, tossing the empty beer can aside. He yanked Alabaster’s head off the desk and flipped it over to show a small device attached inside the bottom of the neck by a tangled mess of mismatching wires and electrodes.
Examining the device in disbelief, Norma watched as Lobo flipped a blue switch on the device. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she heard the muffled groan come out of her husband’s mouth.
“Unngghh…” the bodiless man moaned, “What….what’s going on…?”
Lobo grinned as he flipped the head back over and stared into Alabaster’s eyes. The severed head shrieked in terror for a full minute and a half, much to Norma’s delight.
Her lips widened into a smile, “I see he remembers you.”
“I should hope so,” Lobo grinned and stared the terrified head directly in the eyes, addressing it, “my arm and guts have healed up quite nicely from those chainsaw wounds you gave me, punk. Can’t say the same for you.”
“Cut…cut your arms off…how the hell did you…”
Smiling, the Main Man bounced the head back and forth on each palm while turning his attention back to Norma, “See? He’s still alive. I always keep my promises.”
“And the rest of his body?”
“It’s in the duffel bag out front along with all the other ninja brides.”
“All of them? All thirty?”
“Yep. Although, I think I might have some of the guest’s body parts in there too. It was a bit of a mess in that chapel when I was done.”
“Hmmm,” Norma tapped her foot on the ground, “I was expecting my husband to have a body when you were done, but I suppose this will have to do.”
Norma opened up her desk drawer and pulled out a crisp, grey briefcase with a numerical lock and set it down on the table in front of Lobo, “Here you go. Combination is eight-zero-four-four-seven-one. One hundred million, as promised.
The Main Man typed in the combination and opened the case, his face curling up into a wide grin at what was inside.
I could really pimp out my hog with this kind of dough, Lobo thought.
Norma grabbed a business card off her desk and handed it to the white-faced rogue, “Anyways, now that I’m – how shall we say – single again, I thought you’d like to come back sometime for some…ah, overtime. Off the books.” She bit her lip, eying him up like a piece of meat.
“I’ll see if I can swing back up this way, baby. No promises.” Lobo said.
“Of course.” Norma nodded, standing up from the desk, “Forgive me, but I have a clogged toilet in the washroom I need to take care of. Don’t be a stranger, darlin’.”
Norma yanked the head up and pulled out some duct tape from her desk drawer. She carried them both toward the executive washroom and shut the door behind her. Lobo scratched his head as he heard an ear-splitting scream emanate from behind the door, followed by a host of wet, squishy plunging sounds.
Yeah, I’ll have to come back here soon, Lobo thought, this crazy bitch is definitely my cup of tea.
Lobo took the briefcase off the table and walked out of the executive suite. He thought a pair of new bleached-skull hubcaps would be a perfectaddition to his bike.
FIN
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