Renegade T.M. (10 page)

“
Okay Crinks
,”
began Slip
,
“
let's find this
Pierre
guy
.”

“
Sure thing hon', which way
?”

“
This way
,”
he replied
, gesturing at a crowd that was beginning to form
,
“let's see what's going on over there
.”

Slip and Crinkle made their way into the crowd that was getting bigger every moment. Pushing and shoving their way through, they were somewhat startled to find a host of Co-leen at the centre of it all, who were preparing to address the crowd.

“
Slip
,”
began Crinkle in a hushed voice
,
“
those are..
.”

“
I know babes
,”
he
int
e
r
r
upted
,
“
just don't draw any attention
.”

“
People of Krassis
,”
began the Co-leen
,
“
we come with an important announcement. We have reason to believe that the so called Renegade team, who broadcast the illegal Renegade show through the invasive means of
transcranial
modulation, are currently somewhere on this planet. This criminal gang consist of the one they call Fendel, a short woman named Crinkle, an earthman named Pete Martin, and is masterminded by one of the most dangerous felons in existence, Slip
McGroovy
. Their images are being shown to you now
.”

“
Hey sexy thing
,”
waved Slip to a forty foot holographic likeness of himself which suddenly appeared above the crowd.

“
Short, I'll give them short
,”
growled Crinkle, utterly oblivious to the fact that a thirty foot image of herself was currently hovering over her head.

“
We the Co-leen, rulers of everything and anything else we may have missed in the course of ruling everything, demand the immediate capture of these criminals, a
nd a reward of one hundred grewbles
is being offered to anyone who can provide us with any information that leads to their arrest
.”

“
A hundred grewbles
,”
gasped Slip
,
“
I could buy my own solar system for that
!
”
he stated
, imagining what colour he
would want it in, before realiz
ing
suddenly
th
at everyone had started staring at him
.

“
Crink
s
,”
began Slip, an element of worry evident in his voice.

“
Short, how dare they, I'm over four feet, I'll give them short
!”
she
fumed, failing to hear Slip over her ranting.

“
Crinkle
,”
he
repeated a little more urgently, aware now that about a third of the crowd was pointing at them.

“
What?
!”
s
he barked.

“
I think it's time to leave
.”

By now, the crowd had cleared a space around Slip and Crinkle and were all pointing and shouting at them both. The Co-leen, catching on, began to close in upon them.

“
Run
!”
y
elled Slip.

***

“
Yeeeaaaaaaaaa
h
!”
s
hrieked Fendel, befo
re stopping to catch his breath for a moment.

“
Yeeeaaaaaaaaa
h
!”
h
e continued.

***

Slip and Crinkle started
running with the Co-leen in hot
pursuit. The crowd, who had but moments ago displayed their
evident desire to see them both
captured
,
through their
collectively unashamed
pointing and shouting, were now only too obliging when it came to getting out of the
ir way as they ran through the crowd
,
(
though it
should be said that the six foo
t tall, fifteen stone plus figure of Slip pounding down on them, probably had a lot to do with this
)
.

“
Quick, down here
!”
Slip shouted, pointing at one of the slides
,
once they had broken free of the crowd.

“
But Slip
,”
started Crinkle.

“
What
?”
he
int
e
r
r
upted, grabbing her and throwing her d
own the slide, before jumping down
after her
himself.

“
Slip
,”
she sighed resignedly
.

“
Hang on, what's going on here?
!”
said a confused Slip, who was moving down the slide behind her at a speed that Pete would have called snail-paced.

“
The sign said the slide of sloth
,”
explained Crinkle
, who
then
proceeded to stand up and turn herself around
,
so that she
now faced him directly
.

“
Oh
,”
he replied
, realising that he may have made a tiny
er
r
or of
judgment
.

Moving down the slide a
t a pace hardly noticeable, he
had ample time to survey his surroundings, and looking to his left, saw no sign of the Co-leen.

“
Hey Crink
s
,
” he began, “
you know we might have got away with this yet
.”

“
That way Slip
,”
she suggested, pointing to his right.

He
turned to his right and was rather discouraged to see a group of Co-leen strolling leisurely beside them. After the Co-leen had laug
hed a little at them both
, and made some
derogatory references to his
weight, they
then
overtoo
k the sliding duo, and went on ahead
to wait for thei
r eventual arrival. At last they
emerged from the slide of sloth, only to be greeted by some twenty Co-leen with little ray guns pointing their way, Slip however, had a devastatingly cunning plan.

“
Now we have you Slip
McGroovy
,”
declared a Co-leen.

“
I think not
,”
he countered
,
“
I've got a bomb
!”

And that said,
Slip
suddenly
whipped off his swimming shorts, revealing to the shock of some and the dismay of many, nothing resembling a bomb whatsoever.

“
Slip
,”
sighed Crinkle.

“
What
?”

“
That's not a bomb
.”

Upon finishing his soggy burger, Pete felt
like
a new man, and remembering about
Pierre
and the
resistance, decided it was high time he set abo
ut finding them. He was convinced that from there on it would be but a small hop, skip and jump to saving the planet Earth from the Co-leen threat.

“
Hey you
,”
Pete beckoned a guy working at a bar.

“
How do I find
Pierre
?”
he
asked, whispering
“
Pierre
”
as if the very word might break something.

“
You'll want the underground mate
,”
answered the barman.

“
Yeah
,”
he said
winking
,
“
the underground
.”

“
Right
,”
replied the barman, wondering whether he should serve this guy if
he was going to order
a drink.

“
And where, pray tell, would I find the underground
?”
he
whispered
dramatically
, making certain he would not be overheard, even though the bar was
completely
empty.

“
Underground
,”
replied the barman.

“
Oh it's like that is it
,”
he said
, reaching for his wallet
,
“
give me a drink
.”

The barman hesita
ted, but finally deciding it a
much safer course of action to simply appease this man,
then poured
Pete a drink.

“
Thanks Mac
,”
said
Pete, who then surreptitiously slipped the barman a twenty pound note.

“
Keep the change
,”
he added with a
n
over-embellished
wink.

The barman looked down at the
little piece of paper that he had just been handed
, and decided to call security. Before he could do this however, he noticed that Pete was winking at him again, and now trying to nudge him over the bar. The difficulty o
f this
maneuver
, combined with hi
s evident enthusiasm to do it, was enough to make him reconsider, and after a moment
’
s deliberation, he concluded that it would probably be a great deal safer to simply accept the piece of paper
,
along with the fact that he was now called Mac.

“
Thanks
,”
said the barman, taking the twenty pound note.

“
Right, down to business
,”
Pete went on
conspiratorially
,
“
where do I find the underground
?”

“
Underground
,”
repeated the barman, who was becoming increasingly frightened
by Pete and his endlessly repeating question
.

“
Yes
,”
he said,
becoming a little irritated
now
,
“
the underground
,”
he repeated, stressing every syllable in
“
underground
”
as if they were somehow t
e
r
r
ibly important.

“
Underground
,”
said the barman again, who was now on the verge of panic and looking for ways to escape.

“
Now look Mac
,”
he replied heatedly
,
“
I gave you twenty right
?”

“
Okay
,”
said the barman in a small voice, confused as to what twenty things he had supposedly received from this madman.

“
So you owe me, right
?”

“
Yeah
, course
,”
answered the barman in a state of panic
,
“
another drink
?”

The barman then made a wild snatch at a bottle, fearing that if he took his eyes from Pete's, the madman would surely attack. The bottle however, resisted the snatch, and decided instead to fall from the bar and shatter on the floor.

“
Hey cool it man, no need to get heavy
,”
said Pete, mistaking the barman's fumble for an act of aggression.

“
Just tell me where to find the underground
?”
he
asked again, wanting to get away from this unstable barman as quickly as possibly.

“
Underground
!”
s
creamed the barman, who
,
fearin
g for his life, then
grab
bed a shard of broken bottle and
brandished it threateningly at Pete.

“
Yeah
the underground
!”
he
yelled back, also grabbing a shard of glass with which to defend himself.

Now the two men stood facing each other as a silence fell over the bar. Less than three feet separated them as they weighed each other over. Their gazes never deviating from the other and their weapons raised in waiting, the two warriors were now locked in a deadly contest of will, where one wrong move would almost certainly bring a quick, remorseless death.

“
One more time
,”
growled Pete, watching his enem
y as a hawk would a field mouse,
“
w
here..
.”

A bead of sweat fell
down from hi
s forehead.

“
... would..
.”

The barman blinked.

“
... I find..
.”

Someone entered the bar only to turn tail and flee.

“
... the underground
?”
he
finished at last.

Again a deathly silence descended upon them.

“
For the last time
,”
growled the barman, “
Under..
.”

“
Yeah
,”
Pete int
e
r
r
upted, shifting the weight on his feet as he spoke.

Now the barman, caught unexpectedly by th
is sudden movement, thought Pete
about to attack, and instinctively springing backwards, then hurled his
shard of glass directly at his
head. Pete however, had not let his concentration lapse, and the moment the barman made his move, ducked swiftly down behind the bar, so that the gla
ss flew harmlessly overhead
.

“
FREEDOM
!”
s
houted Pete, finding himself a little too caught up in the moment, and springing up from behind the bar, pounced on the
defenseless
barman and raised his shard for the kill.

“
Wait
!”
screamed the barman.

“
Oh now you want to talk
,”
Pete said
, the look of a killer in his eyes.

“
Well go ahead
,”
he
whispered into the man's ear, as he slowly passed his shard directly before his foe's eyes.

“
Under..
.”

The barman paused in a desperate attempt to compose himself.

“
...
the..
.”

Again silence, the barman clearly unable to pull himself together.

“
..
.
ground
.”

He finished and broke down crying.

“
Oh
,”
realized
Pete
,
“
under
the
ground
.”

“
You see, I thought you meant..
.”

“
Well the thing is, I thought you were saying..
.”

“
I just thought you were being difficult
,”
he finished
, feeling rather ashamed with himself.

“
Well sorry about all that, no harm done
,”
he then apologized, getting ready to make a hasty exit
.

“
Keep the twenty, and bye then, take care of yourself
,”
said Pete, who then left the bar.

The barman, on Pete's exit, picked himself up, grabbed a pen and paper, and scrawling the words
“
I quit
!”
, then left the building by the other exit.

***

“
Hmmm
,”
thought Fendel, who had
b
een sliding for over five cylces
now
,
“
what next
?”

“
Yeeeaaaaaaaaa
h
!”
h
e decided.

***

“
Under
the
ground, easy mistake to make
,”
said Pete to himself, as he walked along looking for a way underground.

It was not long before he
came across what he imagined to be
some sort of man-hole, and removing the cover, promptly jumped in with very little regard for his own pe
rsonal safety. Fortunately, h
e splash landed in a tunnel of water, and after a moment
’
s panic, in which he decided once and for all that he was not a
liquid breathing,
fish creature, he
then
surfaced, and was thankful to see a ridge he could walk along.
The tunnel was well lit, and h
e had little trouble making his way throug
h. After a while
, h
e came across a door, and placing his ear up against it, could quite clearly discern voices coming from inside.

“
Right
,”
he thought
,
“
quick like a cat
!
”

With this, h
e
then
sharply yanked the door handle and slammed himself against the door with his shoulder. The door however, was locke
d, and Pete gracelessly rebounded off it
, fell into the water
,
and lost consciousness.

***

Fendel was
beginning to feel hungry, and although h
e had very
much enjoyed the last six cycles
, decided
now
to leave off the yelling, and
instead
look for a way out of the slide of infinity.

***

As Pete came to and opened his eyes, he was rather astonished to find himself sitting in a Parisian cafe. All around him sat devilishly handsome people wearing the latest fashions, drinking black coffee, and talking about art. O
n second reflection however, h
e
realized
that he was still underground, and that rather than being able to sit back and soak up the ambience, he was in fact bou
nd to his chair with rope. As he
tried to put this al
together, a ma
n wearing a black polo neck and
matching beret approached him.

“
So you've decided to join us mon ami
,”
said the man, blowing
cigarette
smoke in Pete's face.