This is the qualifying entry for LayethTheSmackDown's latest... well, Smackdown. In 500 words or less, we were to get Mad Max out of a life-threatening predicament and have him enact his revenge. Mine took a Steampunk twist. Here is the rough draft (aka: the draft that I didn't chisel down to <500 words). You can read the condensed version over at LayethTheSmackDown.

Mad Max's Revenge

SP Parish 2017

"But sir," Cranky Sam began, "don't ya think this be a little much given the ongoings of this mornin'?"

Mad Max flipped the tails of his coat, brushing away imaginary soot while adjusting the golden straps of his pack on his shoulders. "Dearest Sam," Max started, "this morning's incident is precisely why tonight is the optimal time." Max walked the polished oak decks of the dirigible, coming to a stop just below the pilot's station.

"But sir-" Sam started again, wringing his hands and pinching his face most unattractively, "You was just seein' the apothecary not two hours ago."

Max lifted his cane, about two thumbs' width and just shy of fashionable, and hit the underside of the station twice. The dirigible gave a smooth, steady drop, brushing the bottom of the thick autumn clouds. Max touched his companion's cheek with the cane, "Now, now old friend. That look is precisely why they call you cranky. Look alive, now." With one hand on his hat, Max took two steps off the deck and plunged into the sky.

Immediately, Max ran the cane against his shoulder, latching it to the appropriate straps. The bright lights of the floating Villa de Areñal broke the dark hues of the descending dusk. Max made a calculated adjustment before hitting the release on his cane, tuning it into a fully functional, canvas parachute with scalloped edges.

***

Sissy Francisco sat on the tufted velvet sofa, as removed from the happenings of her father's party as possible while maintaining appropriate manners. Her alabaster skin, which she inherited from her late mother, was handsomely offset by a crimson and black bolero with a matching bodice. Though the air was crisp this close to the clouds, her fan waved gently to and fro in front of her face. Times like these, she was evermore grateful for the dime store novel grafted into the fan's folds by none other than that genius, Mad Max. Momentarily distracted from her reading by her thoughts, Sissy glanced around, pursing her lips. Max should have been here by now.

"My lady, why the long face?" Only years of practice stalled Sissy from rolling her eyes. It was Peter du'Conte, his father's reason for this party and the most hopeful suitor for her hand. Her unavailable hand.

With a polite smile, Sissy stated, "Why Mr. du'Conte, I was expecting a friend here tonight. It seems I have missed..." she stumbled, "them."

Peter's dull brown eyes flashed and followed by a knowing smile, "Dear, you're not referring to the vagrant known as Mad Max, are you?" When Sissy did not respond, Peter continued. "Why this morning he met the most horrific of endings at the hands of the Westminster Monster. Witnesses and all said that the poor fellow went in and never came out. The whole docks were a mess of metal and-"

Sissy snapped her fan closed and stood up, "I am afraid that is just not true, Mr. du'Conte," she said as she brushed by him, headed for the grand entrance of the Villa, out into the open air.

A flustered du'Conte nipped at her heels, "And whatever makes you think that, Miss Francisco?"

Sissy turned over her shoulder as she made her way to the end of the front yards, brushing past the partygoers to a smartly dressed man with slightly windblown hair and a perfectly placed hat. When spotting her destination, Peter's eyes became like fire. "Because he's right here."

Max scoped his betrothed into his arms, landing a chaste kiss on her forehead before initiating the jetpack strapped to his back. "Good evening, my dear," he said with a wicked smile. "Miss me?"

Sissy settled into Max's arms, pinching her perfectly manicured brows above her pert nose, "Max," she started as they left the ground to the awe of onlookers in the yard below. "What is this about you being eaten by the Westminster Monster this morning?"

Max chuckled, "Well my dear, he gave it his best shot. I spent the morning in the hands of the apothecary, however, I assure you, I am fine."

Sissy reached up, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, "You're positively mad, Max."

Max's eyes twinkled, "That is what they say."