The captain screamed and threw a right cross at Mando's jaw. Mando blocked the blow and leapt forward. She landed five head butts in succession to the bridge of the captain's nose.
Oh, the violence and the gore, it was almost too much to discuss, let alone to describe.
Mando followed through and grabbed the captain's hair with her left hand. She coiled and wrapped the captain's hair around her fist and proceeded to maul the captain's face with a series of jackhammer blows.
Meanwhile, the band on stage continued to jam their cover of Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes from their amplifiers. Two of the captain's teammates tried to come to her aid, but Mando snatched a stein glass from a table and struck the first across the temple and the second across the jaw. Both fell to the ground. The rest of the team charged at Mando.
Mando released the captain, stepped back and grabbed a bar stool. She wielded it like a lion tamer and kept this rampaging team of soccer tigresses at bay. The goalie tried to sneak up from behind but Mando quickly snatched a fortified glass ashtray from a bench and cracked the goalie on the point of her chin.
"Oh dear," remarked Danny. The bartender had just handed her the drinks when she turned around and witnessed the brawl, "not again Mando," she said as she dropped the drinks and raced towards the brawl.
A table was in her way but no matter, Danny leapt over the table and in the name of Bruce Lee, executed a flying sidekick of sheer and total awesomeness. She slammed it into a soccer player. Danny only just had time to plant her feet when she was rushed by another player. Danny met the player with a Van Damme style jump spinning heel kick. She delivered it with such force that it decapitated the player.
"What the hell?" asked Danny.
As the player's head hit the floor and rolled towards the far end of the bar, the headless body just stood there. Sparks from severed electrical wires, smoke and green coolant, oozed from the neck stump. The body started up again and rushed at Danny but was met with a Chuck Norris style spinning back kick which drove the body across the floor until it collapsed and tumbled onto the ground.
The brawl lasted for five minutes; a minute short of the fistfight in They Live but a good two minutes longer than Peter Griffin versus the chicken.
The bar was a complete mess. A total write off. All of the patrons had fled the establishment. Well, almost all of the patrons … the giant Norwegian looking guy still sat at his table drinking Heineken. He chuckled quietly to himself.
The two bouncers sat broken and deactivated on the floor. The bartender's android body was also deactivated. It rested on the top of the bar with the head and gerbil pilot, pulverised on the floor.
As for the Uber-Awesome Industries soccer team, they were torn apart and dismembered, cybernetic parts scattered everywhere. Only the captain still stood. In slow motion, she threw wild haymaker punches into the air.
"HOW," muttered the captain, "HOW, HOW, HOW, HOW, HOW," she repeated in robotic loops of muffled, mechanical monotone.
"How?" asked Mando, "How we wiped the floor with you scrags?" Mando made sure she was close, real close, "No special powers. No magical amulet or flung dung combat training. You know how, more importantly why we beat you?" By this point Mando was face-to-face with the captain, "Cause we're from the Switch biotch," and with that, Mando launched an uppercut that knocked off the captain's head.
Sparks, smoke and green lubricant oozed from the neck stump as sounds of gears, cogs and flywheels powered down. The captain's body fell backwards. It hit the floor in a frozen, inanimate heap. The head rolled across the floor and rested next to agent CampDog. He cowered behind an upturned table. CampDog slowly rose, he dusted his shirt and adjusted his glasses.
"Big Budgie, are you there mate," he said as he pressed a finger to his ear, "agent Big Budgie, can you receive me? I said Budgie, are you there?"
Back in the cheap hotel room, Big Budgie was unable to comply. The ninja gorillas who surrounded him jammed the signals to his neural implant. Sweat poured from the technical specialist agent's forehead. His eyes blazed with panic.
"We blocked the teleportation transmissions for you and your compadre," said the ninja gorilla who pointed the naginata between Big Budgie's eyes. He withdrew the naginata and took a step back.
"Awe sherbet," trembled Big Budgie, "yah can't see it but beneath my hard light holographic disguise, I'm clenching me feathery cloacae cheeks together like buggery."
"Relax," said the naginata wielding Gorilla, "we mean you no harm."
"But," whimpered Big Budgie, "but, but you are ninja gorillas. Infamous assassins, really bad guys."
"Yes, we're ninja gorillas," replied the ninja gorilla with the naginata, "but we're Fifth Column of Baphomet."
"Oh," pondered Big Budgie, "Ohhh," Big Budgie breathed a slight sigh of relief.
"Allow me to briefly remove my zukin and menpo," said the ninja gorilla with the naginata. He proceeded to remove his ninja hood and facemask, "My name is Shihan Guido Gargantua. Fifth dimensional black belt in Gorilla Fu and this ninja squad's leader."
"Why are you here?" asked Big Budgie, breathing a slight, but intensely puzzled and uneasy sigh of relief.
"We're going after Fabien the Frenchie," Shihan Guido Gargantua replied, "we're going to sneak into Mount Olympus and wack that diabolical mutt."
"Well, good luck with that suicide of a fudged-up mission," Big Budgie said, putting both of his hard light holographic hands on his holographic waist, "The Olympus security system is renowned for its lethality. Not even a microbe could enter undetected. You'll be blown out of the skies long before you reach the palace … and then, you've got Zeus to deal with. Unless you've got the best, uber advanced tech the Federation has at its disposal, then you have about us much chance as a snowball thrown into a pottery kiln. And even then, you'll be hard up trying not to die instantly."
"Granted the odds are slim," agreed Guido as he circled Big Budgie, admiring his layout of holographic displays, "but if the Olympus security systems went down, we could slip in, whack Fabien and slip back out before the big lightning bolt fella knew what happened. Of course, we'd need the skills of an expert hacker. Someone from a highly advanced civilisation that invented some of the best non-Aquatic Guinea Pig computing tech that's used by the Federation. Someone, like a Triquillion parakeet."
Like an elephant popping cane toads with a road train, with shocking realisation it occurred to Big Budgie why they were here, "Oh, oh crap no, no way," he said, it felt like his gizzards transformed into a bag of cement dropping out of his cloaca like a bad batch of Vindaloo.
"Yes way," said Guido, "only a Triquillion parakeet can compute the math necessary to out-code the Olympus security system in real time. We need someone with your particular hacking skills. You're coming with us."
Meanwhile back in the bar…
Mando strolled with triumph towards the robotic head of the captain. She picked it up and looked curiously at the circuitry. On a hunch, she peeled the wig of long black hair and rubbery face away to reveal a metallic skull.
"Well bloody strewth Danny," she said, "look at the engraving on the back of this thing," she showed Danny the engraving, "I knew it. I bloody well knew it. You know who runs Uber-Awesome Industries Danny?"
"Oh, here we go," sighed Danny as she looked at a puzzled CampDog.
"Isn't Uber-Awesome Industries owned by the Fat Cat Conglomerate?" queried CampDog, before shrugging his shoulders.
"Nope," grinned Mando.
"Fat Cat what?" asked Danny in puzzlement.
"Oh," replied CampDog, "just some fluffed up, overly affluent and gravitationally challenged felines from the planet Fondue."
"Did you take a walk into the wrong kind of shop here in Amsterdam?" asked Danny.
"Well," grinned CampDog, confident that these two women were fantastic fighters, but still just Primordial Earth women. I mean after all, anyone from off world, would naturally know about the Felines of Fondue, "Well," repeated CampDog, "bloody well who then?"
"Oh dear," interjected Danny, "please, don't keep encouraging her."
"Well," continued CampDog, "enquiring minds wanna know."
"I'll tell yah," said Mando, her expression was stern as she slowly held up the metallic skull, "it's the flaming Freemasons!"