Gord Zajac - Major Karnage

“I’d say he’s full of shit,” Karnage said.

Patrick smiled. “Of course you would. That’s exactly the sort of thing you’d say, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. I just fucking well said it.”

Patrick wagged a finger at Karnage. “You’ve been very naughty. You didn’t tell me you could overcome your little ‘handicap.’ It was quite clever of you, really. You certainly showed me up with that trick, I’ll grant you. Tell me, Major. What did you think of my little trick?”

“You mean that thing where I killed you and you didn’t stay dead?”

Patrick nodded. “Quite something, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you like to know how it works?”

“I’d rather you just stayed dead.”

Patrick languidly shook his head. “That’s not true. You’re curious. And why wouldn’t you be? Imagine what you could do if you could cheat death?”

“There’s some who’d say I’ve been doin’ that all my life.”

“Indeed. But time marches on, doesn’t it? You’re fighting a losing battle on that front, aren’t you?”

“Isn’t everybody?”

“Not me.” Patrick studied Karnage a moment. “I could share my secret with you, if you like. But you’ll have to earn it.” Patrick walked over to the railing and leaned against it. “Would you like to play a game with me, Major?”

“No,” Karnage said.

“I call it Wak-A-Patrick.” Patrick leaned out and grabbed a handful of netting above the tablet. He ripped it from its frame. The tablet slipped out of the netting and twirled end over end into the depths below. “How many times can you kill me before I kill you?”

“What the hell kind of game is that?”

Patrick grinned broadly. “A fun one.”

“Me and my fists versus you and your gun?”

“You have a point,” Patrick said. “That’s not exactly fair, now is it?” He tossed his gun through the hole in the netting, then turned back to Karnage. He gave a slight bow. “Et commence!”

As the two circled each other warily, Karnage repeated his mantra in his head: Cookie, Velasquez, Heckler, Stumpy, Koch. Cookie, Velasquez, Heckler, Stumpy, Koch.

Patrick quivered with anticipation, as if overeager for this rematch. Karnage opted to hold back to see what his opponent would do. Patrick’s impatience got the better of him and he lunged. Karnage sidestepped, grabbed Patrick by the back of his coat, and threw him head first through the tear in the netting.

Patrick’s foot tangled in the net. He hung upside down. His foot was slowly slipping from the tangles, but he made no attempt to right himself. He looked at Karnage and winked. His foot came loose, and he fell from the tower, quickly disappearing into the distance.

Karnage’s Sanity Patch stayed silent. He reached behind his neck and knocked on its screen. Like riding a bike.

The elevator binged behind him. Karnage turned around. The doors slid open and Patrick strode out, twirling a long black cane.

“I must admit, that was rather foolish of me,” he said. “I was a little overeager, but I think I’ve found my footing now.” Patrick pulled the shaft off the cane, revealing a long thin blade. “Ready for round two?” He raised the sword and ran at Karnage, bringing the blade down in a sweeping blow.

Karnage grabbed Patrick’s sword arm, locked the elbow, and grabbed the sword by its hilt. He jerked it upwards, ripping it out of Patrick’s hand. He brought the blade around and ran Patrick through. His Sanity Patch buzzed. “Warning. Sanity Level upgraded to Citrus Blast. Please refrain from violent behaviour.”

Karnage whispered in Patrick’s ear. “Let’s see you survive that, fucker.”

Then he grabbed Patrick and threw him over the railing and through the hole in the net. He made a point to watch Patrick fall. The reflective glint of the sword rhythmically winked at Karnage as Patrick tumbled out of sight. He waited until the winking had completely disappeared, then headed for the elevator.

Karnage heard a high-pitched whine coming from outside. He turned around.

Patrick flew up and hovered in front of the open netting. He wore a Dabneycop-issued hoverball flightpack. “Excellent technique, Major. Tell me, are you just as talented at dodging bullets?” Patrick pulled a pistol from his jacket and started firing.

“Give me a fuckin’ break!” Karnage dove out of the way as bullets whizzed past his head. He ran around the central cylinder, trying to put anything between him and the flying gunman.

Patrick swooped and bobbed wildly, steering with one hand as he navigated through the net. Bullets exploded across the wall behind Karnage. He saw the discarded cane sheath appear on the deck as he charged around the cylinder. He dove to the ground in a roll, grabbing the empty shaft with a free hand, and leaped back to his feet.

As Patrick passed the hole in the netting, Karnage whipped the cane sheath through it. It smashed into one of the hoverballs, cracking it open. Yellow smoke spewed from its side, and the flightpack jerked out of control. Patrick frantically worked the controls as the flightpack spiralled out of sight. Karnage watched as the contraption fell. It struck the side of the tower, and the hoverballs broke off in either direction. Patrick’s body continued hurtling toward the ground, colliding with the tower as it fell.

Karnage leaned against the railing and took a moment to catch his breath. He walked back to the elevator. The doors and the console were riddled with bullets. He tried pressing the buttons, but nothing happened. “Shit.” He ran to the Emergency Exit door and placed his hand on the knob to pull it open.

He heard the faint sounds of feet running up metal stairs coming from the other side, getting louder with each frenetic step. Karnage snarled. “Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!”

He pressed himself against the wall, and the door kicked open. Patrick burst through, brandishing a rocket launcher. Karnage kicked the rocket launcher out of his hands and punched him across the jaw. Patrick stumbled across the deck and fell to the floor.

Karnage snatched up the rocket launcher and set it on his shoulder. Patrick rose to his feet, brushing down his uniform. He looked at Karnage and smiled. “Brilliant. Is there anything you can’t defend against?”

“No,” Karnage said, and fired the rocket.

There was the slightest shout from Patrick as he was engulfed in an explosion. Smoke billowed out and filled the deck. Charred bits of what was probably Patrick flew out in all directions from the cloud. When the smoke finally cleared, there was nothing left of Patrick but a blackened, mangled hole in the floor.

“Congratulations, Major,” a voice said behind him. “You win.”

Karnage turned and saw Patrick level a machine gun at him. The inevitable spray of bullets hit Karnage square in the chest, knocking him backwards. Stumbling, he fell through the hole in the floor.

Karnage tumbled through the sky, the bullet wounds hot across his chest. Suddenly, they went cold. Karnage looked down. Tranquilizer balls dotted his shirt. What the…

The tranquilizers knocked him out before he could finish the thought.

The world spun in Karnage’s head, twirling violently, like he was circling down into a drain without end. Then, without warning, the spinning stopped. The world dipped, and Karnage felt himself propelled upward. He felt like he was flying, pushing through damp clouds, bursting out into cold blue sky, flying higher and higher until he was floating in ice cold black.

Bright pinpricks of consciousness pierced the black. They swelled in size. Features became visible in the soft circles of light. Black glasses and mouths like belly slits that curved up slightly at the corners. The faint outline of chauffeur’s caps resolved themselves in the gloom. They were all Patrick. Every one of them. They smiled and leered and stared down at him. The faces swirled around him as they talked amongst themselves.