The Nazi Puncher Episode #66

Nazi Puncher on the Moon

“I don’t know, Nazi Puncher. Is it really worth all this? I mean, we’ve tracked the Red Menace all the way from that grossly stereotypical cafe in Paris to his mountain fortress in the Himalayas and to his other mountain fortress in the Andes and then out into space where he’s built a new fortress on the Moon. Who’s to say that he’s not just going to elude us again and set up shop on Mars?”

The Nazi Puncher wore a grim countenance. He was calm determination as he gazed at his friend, Icy Mike.

“I might be inclined to agree with you, Mike,” he said, “That is, if I had any control over this rage that’s deep inside of me. I know that it seems like a losing battle. The Red Menace and his vast armies of miniature men have bested us at every turn. Every time we think the fighting’s over, more of those tiny bastards appear out of nowhere.” He took a swig of nutritious moon-juice. “They’re so very small.”

The Nazi Puncher strolled over to the Earth-facing window of their moon-craft, and he continued: “Failure means nothing to this knot in my stomach. This voice that keeps urging me on, telling me that I can’t give in to these sons-of-bitches who would have us all in chains, just so they can drink their expensive bottles of liquor while they stage contests of wit. Goddamn Nazis. I hate them!”

“But Nazi Puncher,” said Icy Mike, “The Red Menace isn’t even a Nazi. I think he’s a communist. Though I’m not even sure about that.”

“Any enemy of mankind is a Nazi in my book,” snapped the Nazi Puncher, “Now let’s get moving. General Handful has probably already spotted our craft.”

The Nazi Puncher and Icy Mike put on their moon-suits and proceeded to the airlock where their colleague Brain-or was waiting for them.

“What’s the plan, Brain-or?”

“Well Nazi Puncher, it goes like this. The Red Menace’s fortress lies very close to this craft. At full sprint, it should take you two minutes to get inside the rear entrance.” Brain-or cleared his throat and exchanged a meaningful look with Icy Mike as he said, “Which is good, because your moon-suits are optimized for quick movement and hand-to-hand combat, so they have minimal pressurization. That means that after two minutes, the internal pressure of your bodies will become too much for the suits to contain, and your skin will start to inflate, which could quickly kill you.”

“Don’t worry, we can make it in two minutes,” the Nazi Puncher patted Brain-or’s arm.

The Nazi Puncher and Icy Mike entered the airlock, and Brain-or sealed it behind them. Then he transmitted a message to their ear-pieces: “Okay, you have two minutes starting… NOW!” And with that, the external door to airlock opened. The Nazi Puncher ran for all he was worth, and Icy Mike followed closely behind.

They hadn’t gotten even fifty feet before three smaller-than-usual tanks emerged from a near-by crater. Icy Mike used his super powers to create an ice shield overhead while tiny shells rained down. The tanks moved slowly and were quickly left behind. Then as the two came within throwing distance of the Red Menace’s lunar fortress, a couple of miniature airplanes descended on them. The planes had reinforced noses, so they smashed through Icy Mike’s shield. Then one plane went for Mike, and the other went for the Nazi Puncher.

Icy Mike made short work of his attacker by coating its wings with ice, causing it to spin out of control and crash. The Nazi Puncher attacked the other plane with a sloppy jump kick that ended with him flat on his back and with a slight concussion. Before the plane could take advantage of the moment, Icy Mike had downed it with one of his patented frost-rockets. Then he ran up to examine his friend.

Brain-or’s voice came through their ear-pieces: “Five seconds until your suits give out!”

Icy Mike picked up the Nazi Puncher and laid a long patch of snow, which he used as a track to slide down and into the back door of the Red Menace’s fortress. After hopping inside, the door shut behind him, and he pulled off the Nazi Puncher’s helmet.

“Nazi Puncher, are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little shaken,” said the Nazi Puncher, “Sorry I kind of screwed up back there.”

“It’s okay,” Icy Mike said, “Brain-or and I figured something like that would probably happen.”

A single tear rolled down the Nazi Puncher’s cheek.

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