Major Karnage

by Gord Zajac

  “You don’t think they might have a problem with that?”

  “Nah.”

  “Well, what about that part where you tried to show up Riggs by proving you could beat the crap outta me?”

  “Oh, well I’m sure once I explain to my superiors how big of an asshole Riggs is, all will be forgiven. It’s not like they ever screwed me over before.”

  “Not once, huh?”

  “Oh no. Not ever.”

  “This that sarcasm thing again?”

  “Yep.”

  Karnage lay back in his cot, staring out at the stars. The black outline of a vulture soared past in the distance. “Lemme ask you somethin’ Captain. You ever think of givin’ up the whole law and order thing and embarkin’ on a life o’ crime?”

  “Well, that depends. What kind of crime we talkin’ about here?”

  Karnage shrugged. “Probably big stuff. Security breaches. Vandalism. Terrorism. Stuff you’d do while fightin’ squidbugs.”

  “And what do I get out of it?”

  Karnage shrugged. “Probably nothing. Probably just get yourself arrested. Or killed. Maybe even turned into a giant mutant squidbuggy thing.”

  “You mean like you?”

  “Yeah. Like me.”

  “You make it all sound so tempting.”

  “Well, there’s the off-chance you might accidentally stop the squidbugs.”

  “And save the world?”

  Karnage shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “What do you think the chances are of doing that?”

  “Pretty bad.”

  “Yet you’re gung ho for it anyway.”

  “I got a vested interest.”

  “What’s that?”

  Karnage grew serious. “Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Koch. Stumpy.”

  “Your troopers.”

  Karnage nodded.

  “These troopers of yours,” Sydney said. “They good people?”

  “Yep,” Karnage said. “The best.”

  “Worth dying for?”

  “Ten times over.”

  Sydney nodded. “Let me think about it. Maybe sleep on it. Get back to you. Okay?”

  Karnage nodded. “Okay.”

  “’Night, Major,” Sydney said. “I hope you can kill something in the morning.”

  “Me, too,” Karnage said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Karnage and Sydney stood across from each other in the carnival square in front of the fountain. Karnage stretched his hands. Sydney wiggled her toes. The drone hovered down between them.

  “Working with a live opponent should be no different than the simulations. Channel your sense memories, Major. Engage the limbic lobe. Remember why you are doing this.”

  Karnage nodded. “I won’t forget.”

  “Then let us begin,” the drone hovered up and out of the way. “Start slowly, at first. Telegraph your strikes. Allow your body time to adjust to the idea that these movements are nonviolent.”

  Karnage did as the drone said. He threw his punch slowly, thinking about every movement, working to convince himself there was nothing violent about it. Just makin’ a fist. Just pullin’ it back. Just twistin’ my body forward while I’m extendin’ my arm. Sydney caught and easily deflected the punch. Karnage did it again. And again. Slowly, he picked up the pace. All the while, he repeated his mantra: Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch. Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch.

  “Excellent, Major! Excellent!”

  His punches were moving at a normal pace now. It was like a dance: Karnage was leading, throwing his punches, and Sydney would block and deflect. Like a violent tango where the music kept going faster and faster, picking up the pace. Karnage and Sydney picked up their pace with it. He couldn’t help it: he was enjoying it.

  Karnage let loose with a combo that almost took Sydney off guard. She smiled and nodded, showing appreciation for his work. They were perfectly matched in this mock combat. Karnage felt something stirring inside he hadn’t felt in a long time—

  “Warning. Sanity Level upgraded to Lemon Breeze. Please refrain from violent behaviour.”

  “Shit!”

  The drone hovered down. “Don’t be so disappointed. You were doing very well there, Major. Your progress has been absolutely remarkable. I foresee only another four to six weeks of training before—”

  “Four to six weeks?! We don’t have that kind of time! I thought you said this was gonna be quick and dirty!”

  “This is quick and dirty, Major. To properly master the Eleven Senses would take years. It is as much of a shortcut as we are able to take. Now, retake your positions, and . . .” The drone suddenly twisted away, its lens frantically pushing in and out. “Wait. How is this possible? Why didn’t—”

  A shot rang out, and the drone exploded. Bits of sphere and lens fell to the ground. Karnage whipped around.

  Patrick stood at the entrance to the water park. He held a smoking pistol in his hand. Karnage and Sydney dove into the fountain. Chunks of concrete flew from the rim as bullets whizzed overhead.

  “How the hell did he find us?” Sydney said.

  “I don’t know.” More chunks of concrete exploded from the rim. “Is it just me or is he a little more determined this time?” Karnage waited until he heard the empty clip fall to the ground before calling out over the fountain. “I thought you didn’t want to kill me?”

  “Sadly, my orders have changed.” Patrick reloaded his pistol. “Please note I didn’t shoot you first. After our last encounter, I just didn’t think that would be very sporting of me.”

  “You mind telling me who wants me dead?” Karnage said.

  “Sorry. Client confidentiality. You understand.”

  A drone flew overhead towards Patrick. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” it said, before a bullet caused it to explode into pieces.

  Another drone quickly followed in its wake. “I simply can’t abide violence.” Another bullet. Another explosion.

  A third drone flew by. “Not in my compound.” It exploded.

  A fourth quickly followed. “Not ever.” It too exploded.

  A fifth and a sixth flew by. “Games on the other hand—” the fifth said before blowing apart. “—I quite enjoy,” the sixth finished, then shattered.

  Another three drones flew past. “Would you like to play a game with me now?” one of them said, then promptly went boom.

  “I call it Wak-A-Kat.” Boom.

  “You be the mallet, and I’ll be the cats!” Boom.

  “Would you like to play?”

  “No.” Patrick fired, and the drone shattered.

  “Too bad,” another drone said. “Wak-A-Kat!”

  Patrick blasted it to bits.

  “Excellent shot,” another drone said as it flew into his face. “WakA-Kat!” Patrick fired, and it shattered. Another took its place.

  “Wak-A-Kat!”

  The air grew thick with drones. They swarmed around Patrick. He shot frantically as they closed in, crying, “Wak-A-Kat! Wak-AKat!” Bits of drone shrapnel flew off in all directions in time with the gunfire.

  “Stop saying that!”

  “Wak-A-Kat!”

  A drone flew over the fountain. Its lens focused on Karnage and Sydney. “Sydney, my dear, I believe you have a weapon in the water tower?”

  Sydney nodded. “My goober pistol. Yeah. It’s not much—”

  The drone exploded. Karnage and Sydney covered their heads against the bits of drone that fell onto them. Another drone quickly flew into its place. “Then I suggest you go now, before I run out of—” The drone exploded.

  “Good enough for me,” Karnage said. “Let’s go!”

  Karnage and Sydney crawled around to the back of the fountain. They leaped out. Patrick was covered in drones, firing wildly. The drones all crying, “Wak-a-kat! Wak-a-kat!” The two soldiers ran to the water tower and climbed the stairs.

  Sydney rifled through the nest of blankets on her cot. “Where the hell is it?”

  “
Where did you leave it?”

  “Right here!”

  “Looking for this?” Karnage turned and saw Patrick step out from behind some medical equipment. He held Sydney’s gun belt in one hand and her goober pistol in the other. He fired, and Sydney flew back in an expanding ball of goober. It stuck her to the wall, covering her left hand and head. She kicked and struggled at the goober.

  “There.” Patrick tucked the goober pistol back into her gunbelt, and dropped it to the ground. “That should even things up a bit. No last-minute surprises this time, eh, Major?”

  “How’d you get up here so fast?” Karnage said.

  Patrick smiled. “I’m sure you’d love to know, wouldn’t you? But a good magician never reveals his secrets. Though I must admit, a part of me would love to let you in on the secret. A shame I have to kill you now.” He drew his pistol. “I’m dreadfully sorry it has come to this.”

  “So your orders have changed, then.”

  Patrick pulled his pistol. “Indeed they have. And may I say, I’m dreadfully sorry it has come to this.”

  Karnage looked around. There was nowhere he could hide. He was trapped. He already knew how good Patrick was. He couldn’t dodge a bullet. Not at this range. You’ve got to use your head, Major.

  Karnage shook his head disapprovingly. “And you call yourself a professional.”

  Patrick looked injured. “What do you mean?”

  “You say you know everything about me, and you want a chance to really fight me. And yet, here you are, holding a gun.”

  “I told you, I’m a professional. It’s my job.”

  Karnage sneered. “Sure. Go ahead.” Karnage turned his back. “Make it quick.”

  “Oh, Major, please. I can’t shoot you in the back. It’s just not sporting.”

  “It’s about as sporting as you shooting me in the front. Or did you forget about this?”

  Karnage punched the wall. His Sanity Patch buzzed. “Warning. Sanity Level upgraded to Daffodil. Please refrain from violent behaviour.”

  Karnage turned back to Patrick. “You gettin’ it yet? You want a chance to fight me. Well, here it is. Let me go down fighting. It’ll be messy, but your boss won’t care. I’ll be dead. And you’ll have had your chance to fight me. That’s your life-long dream, isn’t it? To fight the legendary Major Karnage? Here’s your chance.”

  “And you can die like a true warrior.” Patrick grinned broadly. “That’s very tempting.”

  “I thought it might be,” Karnage said.

  Patrick bit his lip, considering his options. Finally, he smiled. “Oh, why not?” He put his gun away in his jacket. He approached Karnage cautiously, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, yet tense with energy.

  Karnage raised his fists. All the while, he repeated his mantra in his head: Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch. Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch.

  He hoped it would be enough.

  They circled one another like lions. Karnage threw the first punch. His Sanity Patch buzzed “Citrus Blast.” Karnage cursed himself. Don’t feel! THINK! Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch.

  Patrick easily ducked the punch and tried to strike Karnage in the gut. Karnage blocked the blow. The Sanity Patch crooned “Peachy Keen.” Focus, dammit! FOCUS! Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch.

  He tried to remember how it felt to trade blows with Sydney. Just sparring among friends. Nobody’s tryin’ to kill each other here. Even though we are. But we’re not. Fuck! How do I sort this out?

  Patrick’s moves were long and fluid, his arms and legs like blades. Karnage blocked and dodged, all the while trying to get back into the right mindset. He tried to focus on why he needed to do this. He tried to focus on his long-term goals: Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch. Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch.

  Patrick swept out with his leg and knocked Karnage off his feet. Karnage went down hard. He spun away from a foot coming for his head and leaped back to his feet. He shoved a table on casters at Patrick. Patrick tumbled out of the way, and the table smashed through one of the oval windows. Karnage’s neck buzzed. “Warning. Sanity Level upgraded to Tangy Orange. Please refrain from violent behaviour.”

  He cursed silently. Come on, mister, get it together! Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch. He dodged another blow, trying to prepare himself. They ain’t just names. They’re people. Your people. If you don’t win this, they’ll die! You can’t let that happen. They’re countin’ on you. You’re the only one they have left! Cookie! Velasquez! Heckler! Stumpy! Koch!

  Karnage saw an opportunity to strike Patrick’s exposed throat. Do what you have to do, soldier. Do what you have to do! He took it, throwing a punch into Patrick’s neck. Patrick gasped, and reeled back.

  The Sanity Patch stayed silent.

  Keep it up, mister. Keep it up! Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch.

  Patrick sliced the air with a gloved fist. Karnage dodged and landed a punch to Patrick’s stomach. Patrick doubled over. The Sanity Patch ignored the blow.

  Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch. Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch.

  Karnage ripped open the front of Patrick’s jacket, exposing the pistol.

  Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch. Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Stumpy. Koch.

  He whipped the pistol out of its holster and kicked Patrick away. Patrick staggered back, dazed. He looked at Karnage in amazement. “You’re not supposed to be able to do that.”

  Karnage levelled the gun at Patrick. “I wasn’t sure I could.”

  Patrick smiled. “You are far more magnificent than I could have imagined.” He looked at the pistol pointed at his chest, and smiled. “Are you that good? Can you do it? Can you get away with killing me without taking your own head off?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Karnage said.

  “Please,” Patrick said. “Do it.”

  Karnage fired.

  The Sanity Patch buzzed. “Warning. Sanity Level upgraded to Sharp Cheddar. Please refrain from violent behaviour.” And then it was silent.

  Patrick staggered back, a shocked look on his face. He looked down at the small hole in his shirt. Blood poured from the wound, staining the fabric. He looked up at Karnage, and smiled. Blood poured from his mouth.

  “Brilliant,” he said, then fell back through the broken window.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Karnage grabbed a can of goober solvent from Sydney’s belt, and sprayed down the goober holding her to the wall. It fizzled and bubbled and melted away. Sydney slid down the wall, wiping the remnants from her face. “You all right?”

  Sydney pinched at her nose and sniffed. “I’m gonna blow pink snot for a few days, but other than that I’m fine. How about you?”

  “I’m not dead.”

  “Sounds like you’re doing pretty good, then. What happened to Patrick?”

  Karnage jerked a thumb out the broken window. “He’s dead.”

  Sydney blinked. “You killed him?”

  “Yep.”

  “How?”

  “With my fists,” Karnage said. “And a gun.”

  “And the Sanity Patch didn’t go off?”

  Karnage shrugged. “It went off a little.”

  “But not enough to kill you.”

  Karnage grinned. “Nope.”

  Sydney looked out the window. “Where’s his body?”

  “What do you mean where? He should be right—” Karnage looked down at the square. There was a smear of blood at the base of the water tower, but otherwise the square was empty.

  Patrick was gone.

  “No,” Karnage shook his head. “That’s not possible. I got him square in the chest. Right in the heart. He couldn’t have stood up and walked away from that!”

  “Looks like he did,” Sydney said.

  Karnage heard a buzzing behind him. He started. He had a moment where he thought it was the Sanity Patch finally realizing he had indeed been violent these last twenty min
utes, and was enacting retroactive retribution. But it wasn’t.

  A cell phone vibrated around on the floor behind them, its display flashing. Karnage picked it up. The name on the display read STEVE DABNEY. A picture of a strapping young man with closecropped hair and glasses smiled out of the screen. A list of details ran down the screen, including “Employer: Dabney Corporation. Job Title: CEO.” Karnage showed the name to Sydney. She whistled.

  “Does that mean it is who it looks like it is?”

  “It does,” Sydney said. “You gonna answer it?”

  “Be rude not to.” Karnage answered it. Steve Dabney appeared on the screen, smiling broadly. “Patrick, how—”

  The smile left his face. He blinked.

  “You’re not Patrick,” he said.

  “Nope,” Karnage said.

  Steve stared blankly at Karnage. Karnage stared back.

  “I take it Patrick can’t come to the phone right now?” Steve said.

  “Nope,” Karnage said.

  “Can I expect him to ever come to the phone again?”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Karnage said.

  “I see,” Steve said. He looked at something offscreen, then back at Karnage. The congenial smile was back in place. “Well, I’m afraid I’m rather busy here, so . . . so long.”

  The screen went black.

  “Be seeing you.” Karnage said. He tossed the phone out the window.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The phone had shattered on impact. Its shrapnel lay splayed in a wide dispersal pattern around the bloody splotch on the cobblestones. Sydney pointed to a spotty trail of blood leading through the park’s main gates. “See? He walked.”

  “Or he was carried,” Karnage said.

  “You think he had help?”

  “There’s no way he could have survived that.”

  “He could have been wearing a bulletproof vest,” Sydney said. Karnage shook his head. “I would have felt it when I was beating the crap out of him.”

  “Good to know you’re so thorough about these things.”

  “I try.”