Gord Zajac - Major Karnage

They climbed off the edge of the platform down onto the tracks. The floor of the tunnel was covered in ankle-deep water. Karnage recognized the toxic smell of squidbug. The beam from the flashlight caught glimpses of orange creeper and pinkstink hanging on the walls. Bright red lily pads with yellow veins drifted past their legs.

“This stuff always down here?” Karnage asked.

“No,” Sydney said. “This is new.”

They heard muffled voices up ahead. Sydney quickly turned off her flashlight. Their eyes adjusted to the pitch black of the dark, and they saw a soft blue glow lighting the tunnel ahead.

“I thought you said these tunnels were deserted,” Karnage whispered.

“They’re probably just refugees.”

As they approached the light, the voice grew clearer. “…and you, too, will learn to awaken The Worm within.”

“Well, shit,” Karnage said.

They rounded the corner and came into another station. The light came from a giant D-Pad that was propped against a turnstile. It showed Melvern standing before a clear blue sky looking off into the distance. A pair of Spragmite priests stood to either side of the monitor, nodding their heads solemnly.

A small group of people stood in front of the monitor. A man held a baby in his arms, a young boy clutched to his leg. An old woman sat in a wheelchair. An old man in a suit leaned against the handle of the chair, a hand on the woman’s shoulder. A young man with spiky green hair stood off to one side watching morosely. A pair of teenage girls huddled together in the back, holding each other for support. They occasionally exchanged terrified looks. Strings of numbers were printed across the backs of the girls’ shirts. Karnage pointed them out to Sydney. “What are those? Like serial numbers?”

“No,” Sydney answered. “They’re expiration dates.”

“Expiration dates? For what?”

“For the clothes. Lets you know when they go out of style.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I know,” Sydney said. “Used to be they’d put it inside the clothes, so you’d know when to buy new ones. Then the fashion conscious started putting them on the outside, to declare to the world how trendsetting they were. Those poor girls. Look at those dates. They’re at least six weeks old.”

Karnage found the sorrowful look on Sydney’s face a bit perplexing, but surprised himself by keeping his opinion on the matter to himself. “How are we gonna get by ’em?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sydney said. “They’re fugitives. They won’t pay us any mind.”

“Fugitives?” Karnage looked the crowd over again. They appeared completely harmless. “Fugitives from what?”

“Debt,” Sydney said. “You can’t make your payments, they ship you out to the labour camps. Most of these people wouldn’t last five minutes outside the city, and they know it. So they hide here. Pray for salvation.”

“And in come the Spragmites.”

Sydney nodded. “That’s right.”

A searchlight flicked on at the top of the stairs, striking the group of refugees, before a group of Dabneycops bounded down the steps brandishing goober rifles.

“Everybody freeze!”

The green-haired youth leaped up and bolted. A Dabneycop raised his rifle and fired. Screams erupted from the crowd as the young man disappeared in a giant ball of pink goober. Nothing was visible but a small tuft of green hair.

One of the priests charged forward. “You dare interfere with the work of Spragmos?!” He gave a yelp as he disappeared in another ball of goober. The crowd had pulled itself into a tight circle, clutching each other and whimpering. One of the girls was crying.

The fattest of the Dabneycops waddled forward. He raised a megaphone to his lips. “All right, everybody settle down and nobody else will get goobered. Now there’s no point in running. We’ve got all the exits covered. Everybody step forward in a line. Come on, let’s go. You, too, grandpa. You’ll do your part and pay your own way.” He put down the megaphone and turned to the other Dabneycops. “Round ’em up.”

The Dabneycops moved down among the crowd. The other priest shot the fat Dabneycop a glowering look. “You will pay for this outrage,” he said.

“Tell it to the magistrate, Father.”

“You will refer to me as Presbyter, heathen!”

“Stick a sock in it, Father, or I’ll goober it shut.”

“He’s talking a big game,” Sydney whispered, “but look how he’s coverin’ his badge number. Doesn’t want the priest to figure out who he is.”

“McClaine! We got everybody?”

“Just gotta unstick the kid, sarge.” McClaine was spraying a can of solvent at the base of the goober ball with the shock of green hair. “We should do a full scour of the tunnel. Make sure the other platforms are clear.”

The sergeant shook his head. “Forget it.”

“But our orders say—”

The sergeant stuck a finger out at McClaine. “I know our orders, constable. And I am telling you that the lieutenant can go piss up a rope. I am marking this sector as clear and that is final. Powell! What the hell are you gawking at?”

“Behind you, sarge!” Powell pointed to a cigarette floating in mid-air, smoking itself behind the sergeant’s head.

Karnage tightened his grip on his pistol. “We got a problem.”

The sergeant turned just in time to see a squidbug appear around the cigarette. “What the hell is that?!”

The squidbug took a long drag on its cigarette, and levelled its spear at the sergeant. The sergeant had just enough time to raise his rifle before he disappeared in a ball of crackling green light.

More squidbugs shimmered into existence around the platform, surrounding the Dabneycops and the fugitives. Shouts and screams filled the air as the refugees ran in all directions. Squidbugs and Dabneycops aimed their weapons at each other and started firing. The air was soon thick with green energy balls and pink goobers shooting across the platform.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before we’re spotted.” Karnage and Sydney moved away from the chaos, retracing their steps down the corridor.

A pipe floated in the middle of the subway tunnel in front of them. A squidbug flowed into existence around it. It aimed its crackling energy spear at them. Sydney drew her goober pistol and fired. She caught the squidbug in the face, throwing it backwards. Its shot went wide, green energy vaporizing a large scoop out of the ceiling. Something groaned in the crater and bits of concrete and metal dropped around them.

“Quick! Through here!” Sydney led Karnage up a set of concrete steps. The groaning overhead turned to cracking, and increasingly bigger chunks of concrete fell from the ceiling. Sydney pulled on the door. “It’s locked!” Karnage aimed his pistol up at the knob and shot it off. His Sanity Patch crooned “Frothy Cream” as they dove through the door. The ceiling gave a final creak and came crashing down behind them.

Karnage and Sydney lay coughing in a heap on the floor. The dust slowly settled around them.

“You all right?” Karnage asked.

Sydney nodded. “I think so.”

They got up and looked at the doorway behind them which had disappeared, replaced with a twisted pile of metal and concrete.

“Guess we’re not goin’ back that way,” Karnage said.

Sydney looked down the other end of the hatchway. Pipes ran along the walls. “Looks like a maintenance tunnel,” she said. “Hopefully it comes out somewhere on the other end.”

“Hopefully? You mean you don’t know where this goes?”

“It should come around to another platform or tunnel.”

“It should?”

“Yeah.” She pointed at the mangled mess behind them. “So long as it doesn’t end like that.”