Gord Zajac - Major Karnage

Karnage slammed his head against his knee. The soft tones of his Sanity Patch pinged their gentle warning in his ear.

He couldn’t think about… it. No point in thinking about… that. Nothing but pain and hurt lay that way. His troopers were counting on him. He had to be strong. Uncle Stanley wouldn’t get anything out of—

No. Uncle Stanley was done. Ancient history. It was over. They had won… hadn’t they? They’d been given medals. He remembered that. Somewhere in some lockbox in the asylum lay seventeen medals, seven citations for bravery, and a set of major’s stripes.

Karnage lay his head against the wall. He thought about his squad up in Ward Three. Velasquez. Heckler. Cookie. Koch. The finest troopers he’d ever served with. Who cared if they were sane? No one alive could outsoldier ’em. Karnage smiled. No dead ones, either.

Karnage heard a door open in the distance. Echoing footsteps moved towards him. He looked up. A man’s silhouette appeared in the shaft of light above. It was Flaherty.

“Ah, I see you’re finally awake,” Flaherty said. “How are you feeling? Would you like any painkillers?”

“I’m gonna kill you when I get outta here.” A sharp jolt shot down Karnage’s spine.

“Warning. Sanity Level upgraded to Citrus Blast. Please refrain from violent behaviour. Thank you.”

Flaherty tsked. “Temper, John. We wouldn’t want you to lose your head.”

“Where’s Cookie?” Karnage said.

“Cookie’s showing signs of relapse. I was hoping those implants would improve his condition. I’ve scheduled him for exploratory surgery in the morning.”

“Quit carving up his brain, you eggheaded bastard!” Karnage threw his body into the wall. He bounced off harmlessly. Another jolt of electricity ran through his spine. Karnage shrugged it off. He glared menacingly at Flaherty as the Sanity Patch crooned “Tangy Orange.”

“It seems these mild warnings aren’t working. You’re obviously not taking your Sanity Levels seriously enough. I think I’m going to have to turn up the voltage,” Flaherty said.

“Sure,” Karnage said. “If you can’t get me to blow my own head off, you’ll just fry my brain right inside my own skull.”

“That’s not true.”

“Sure it is! Jackin’ up my Sanity Patch. Carvin’ up Cookie’s brain. Don’t think I don’t see what’s goin’ on here. Me and Cookie stumbled onto your little invasion plan, and now you want us out of the way.”

Flaherty blinked. “My invasion plan?”

“I don’t know how you factor into all this yet, but I’ll figure it out. I ain’t gonna stop until I get to the bottom of the whole thing.”

Flaherty shook his head. “I’ve clearly underestimated the depth of your psychosis. You are, quite possibly, far more insane than I had originally imagined. I’m starting to think the Sanity Patch is nowhere near enough. If you continue to believe in this delusion, I may have to resort to more drastic treatments.”

“Sure. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Carve my brain right outta my skull and stick it in a mason jar! Turn me into a walkin’ vegetable. Don’t think for one second you and your alien pals can intimidate me. I seen more shit in one day than you could see in a hundred lifetimes!”

Flaherty removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “John, I sincerely hope this turns out to be a temporary delusion. Otherwise… well, I won’t speculate. Nevertheless, I will state this: there is no conspiracy. There is no alien invasion. No one is out to get you or your comrades. We really are doing everything we can to help you. Please believe that.”

“That’s just what I’d expect you to say.”

“Good night, John.” Flaherty stepped away from the light. Karnage heard his footsteps echo back towards the door.

“You can’t hide the truth, Flaherty! You can’t hide the truth!”

The only reply was the slammed door echoing in the darkness.

Flaherty descended the steps of the Veteran’s Home. He fished his car keys out of his pocket and let out a long breath. What a trying day. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. He knew his methods were a bit… well, unorthodox, but that’s why he’d accepted this position. If he could cure these soldiers, he might finally win some acclaim from his colleagues.

The sun was just disappearing over the horizon. It cast violent purple and orange hues across the night sky. The mountains were a dark silhouette in the distance. Flaherty stopped a few feet from his car and soaked in the view. The desert could be harsh, but the heat was already cooling and the sky was clear. It was going to be a beautiful night. He took a long deep breath.

Swirling winds kicked up around him. Flaherty coughed and choked. He covered his face from the fierce attack of the sandladen winds. Darkness enveloped him, descending like fabric dropped from the sky. Flaherty looked up. Something round and oblong had blocked out the sun. It floated high above him; its span was impossibly huge. Flashes of light danced across its surface, illuminating panels and hatches.

Unidentified Flying Objects of Death!

“No,” Flaherty whispered.

A panel slowly opened directly above him. Something long, phallic, and menacing lowered towards him. Deep greenish hues curled and swirled around its bulbous end. Flaherty’s hairs stood on end as the air charged with static electricity.

Flaherty ran towards his car just as his world filled with an intense painful green. Every atom in his body was ripped apart in a single nanosecond.

He didn’t even get a chance to scream.

Karnage woke with the fierce rays of the desert sun beating down on him. The smell of burning plastic hung heavy in the air. He looked around.

He was lying in the middle of a giant smoking crater. The walls of the Hole were about two feet high, their ends melted and blackened.

The asylum was gone.

Karnage leaped to his feet. Where’s my platoon?!

“Cookie! Velasquez! Heckler! Koch!” Karnage’s voice echoed across the desert. Somewhere in the distance, a vulture screeched. Dead. They’re all dead. Just like in—

The War!

Karnage’s mind filled with violent images. The Sanity Patch throbbed. Warning interrupted warning as the sanity levels shot by: Daffodil, Citrus Blast, Peachy Keen, Tangy Orange, Sharp Cheddar, Coral Essence, Frosty Pink—

Karnage slammed his head into the glassy surface of the crater. The visions shattered. The Sanity Patch crooned “Strawberry Shortcake,” then went silent.

“Pull yourself together, soldier!” Karnage barked in his best drill sergeant voice. “You’re made of sterner stuff than this. On your feet, mister!”

Karnage jumped to his feet. He struggled up the walls of the crater, hindered by the straitjacket, yelling at himself all the while:

“Come on, mister! Double time! Move it! Hustle-hustle-hustle!”

Karnage struggled over the edge of the crater onto a melted chunk of asphalt.

“All right, you maggot,” Karnage panted. “I don’t wanna hear no more talk about anybody bein’ dead. I got no bodies and I got no dog tags! Now nobody’s declarin’ anybody dead until we got dog tags or bodies to prove it! Do you hear me, soldier?!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Karnage moved to salute himself, but the straitjacket kept his arms tight to his body.

“Oh, right.” Karnage dislocated both shoulders and pulled his arms over his head. He lowered his tied sleeves until they rested on the ground. He stomped on them, stood upright, and pulled hard. There was a satisfying rip, and the strap holding the sleeves together gave way. The ends were still sewn shut. Karnage looked around for something to cut them with.