Carnage! Love & Lust in the Wasteland
An Unexpected Intermission
The Asphalt had been resurfaced and cleared, the sticky black tarmac baking in the hot midmorning sun and letting off waves of heat like the ghosts of Carnage drivers past. Mei wondered if Otis Grange’s ghost was amongst them, lingering to watch his own send off as they rolled his shiny waxed Peacekeeper’s cruiser out into the center of the arena. He was propped up inside, still and stiff at the wheel behind the tinted glass. The stadium was dead silent but for the mournful processional music playing over the PA system. To her knowledge, a Carnage event had never halted to pay respects to a fallen driver; it was the nature of the game that people died, after all. But this was different. The Menace had not gone out with a bang, but with a pathetic whimper. Dying alone from an undisclosed medical condition in a private box, where no one could have heard him cry for help. Not how any Carnage driver wanted to go.
There were some words being said by some NexGen suit while a highlight reel played silently on the jumbotrons, showcasing one hell of a career on the circuits, but Mei wasn’t really listening. She was concussed from her match with the Scavengers, head feeling like it was full of cotton, and all she could do now was worry about the team the Menace had left behind. Hawk and Mass stood across from her, both of them stone-faced with glossy eyes. The big man’s shoulders started to shake with stifled sobs as twenty-one-Molotov salute was tossed onto the cruiser, immolating the car and the once great man inside it.
“I wish they would hurry this up,” Dan grunted, standing just behind Mei. Anger roiled in her guts.
“Show some respect,” she hissed at him. “A man has died.”
“Men die in Carnage all the time,” he replied. “Only difference I see is that Grange never should have been in the PTQ in the first place.”
That much was true. Their celebration of reaching the finals had been eclipsed by the whirlwind circumstances of Otis Grange’s death. After his discovery, he had been looked over by a staff doctor and they had discovered the man had a cardiovascular condition. In short order, some doctor named Howard Wong had been arrested for falsifying a physical that had allowed Grange to register his team in the first place. Dan had been ecstatic when this led to the board of trustees gathering to discuss whether or not to disqualify the Peacekeeper team; news that had depressed Mei. She hadn’t worked this too hard to have the win handed to her.
The funeral began to disperse, Grange’s cruiser fully ablaze now, and Mei joined the shuffling line as they made their way back to the garage, Izzy falling in next to her and limping heavily.
“What’s your take on this?” Izzy asked in a low voice, glancing at Dan and Teague walking a stride ahead of them.
“Sucks,” Mei said. “I wanted to see this through to the end, not get a free pass on the final because the other team was disqualified. If the board takes our opinions into account at all, I’m going to vote that they let Hawk and Mass drive. What Grange did, it’s not their fault.”
“I’m thinking the same, but I don’t think Dan and Teague will vote that way. So far as your brother is concerned, we’ve already won this PTQ.”
“Fucking slime ball,” Mei muttered. They passed out of the sun and into the blessedly cool corridors under the stands, where the fans were starting to rile up again. Mei hadn’t even bothered to check what the day's side events were. “Speaking of slimy siblings, did yours survive?”
Izzy tensed a bit. “She did. The a hairline crack on her skull is their main concern, but she also has a broken arm, broken nose, broken teeth…” Mei felt a bit awkward having a hand in Rosa’s condition; not guilt, but some compassion for her friend’s concerns. “She was up when I went to visit her,” Izzy went on, voice flattening. “She looks like shit but was well enough to tell me off, in any case. She says hi, by the way. Sends her best for the finals.”
Mei snorted. “Really?”
“Actually, I think her words were ‘I’m going to rip that slant-eyed bitch’s arms off and beat her with the wet ends’ but I knew what she really meant.”
“Such a sweet girl. I should send her a gift basket.” They chuckled together and the tension was broken, but it was short lived. Mei sighed heavily. “I guess we’ll have to try and make Dan see sense in letting Hawk and Mass compete without the Menace.”
Back in their garage, things sat in a lull. Work had been started to get the Dynasty vehicles back into working order but had come to a halt with the announcement of the Otis Grange’s untimely death. Dan and Teague were already sitting down in the small kitchenette and he frowned as Mei and Izzy joined them, easing into the seats around the small circular table. Before she could even say anything, he leapt on her.
“I know what you’re going to say, Mei,” Dan started, “but if it comes to a vote, I’m not letting those Scav outcasts drive in the final. As far as I’m concerned, we won.”
“This is how you want to win?” she shot back. “Really, Dan? How is this a triumph for the Dynasty? It’s a fucking travesty.”
“We have worked hard—”
“And deserve the fruits of our labours!” Izzy cut him off. Dan soured, leering at her.
“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice. “Triumph and glory comes on the circuits. Not in your PTQ. You two have long careers ahead of you and I have done everything in my power to make sure that Otis Grange and his band of misfits don’t spoil that for you. You should be grateful.”
“Grateful that a man conveniently died?” Mei scoffed.
“That a cheater conveniently died,” Dan sneered. “Remember when Grange collapsed in our garage before? I knew there was something wrong with him. Telling us the pills were antibiotics,” Dan snorted in derision. “Did he think I was an idiot? He wasn’t in any shape to be competing and I knew it. I had already tracked down that shady doctor of his, he would have been disqualified anyway.”
Mei narrowed her eyes, smelling a rat. She glanced at Teague, who was silent and unreadable.
“You tracked down Dr. Wong?” Mei asked. When?”
“After the end of the Juggarnautilus match,” Dan provided. “And I tipped off the authorities after Grange was found.”
“Why wait? Why not have him brought in before, if you wanted to have Grange disqualified?” An idea came to her and her blood ran cold. “Dan, please tell me you had nothing to do with Grange’s death.” He leaned back in his chair, glancing at Teague and shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Mei’s guts nearly dropped out her ass. “What did you do?”
He crossed his arms. “I did what I had to do. If I had just reported him, it might’ve taken weeks of appeals and investigation before their disqualification.”
“Dan…” She lowered her voice, glancing at the lingering mechanics. “Tell me you did not kill Otis Grange.”
“His condition killed him,” her brother said. She waited and he shifted, looking away from her. “Anything else we did is inconsequential.”
Mei looked over at Teague, who met her gaze with a level eye.
“You?”
“She’s going to find out eventually,” Teague muttered. Dan curled his lip as Teague reached into his coat and produced a small bottle of pills, placing them on the table. It was Otis Grange’s prescription. Mei blinked at it, disbelieving. Her brother… Her own brother had—
“Oh God,” Mei said, feeling like she might throw up. “You… You… FUCKER!” She had screamed the last word, drawing the eyes of everyone in the garage. She was on her feet, didn’t remembered standing. “I can not believe you, Dan Sung!”
A crackling tone played over the PA system.
“All members of the Peacekeeper and Dynasty teams are to report to the Carnage boardroom at once. Repeat: all members of the Peacekeeper and Dynasty teams are to report to the Carnage boardroom at once.”
She snatched the pill bottle off the table before either of the slimy, cheating scumbags could take it back. Dan leapt to his feet.
“Get back to work!” he screamed at the watching mechanics. “There may still be a match to play!” He rounded on Mei, growling through gritted teeth. “Give that back. Now.”
“Fuck off, you cheating swine.” Mei started to storm off but Dan caught her quickly, taking hold of her shoulder and turning her.
“Where do you think you’re going—”
Mei’s fist cracked squarely into his nose, blood spurting out his nostrils as Dan fell to the ground, clutching his face. Her lips twisted as she glared at the pathetic excuse for a man. She spat on him and that looked to shock him more than anything else.
“Try and stop me and I will go public with this stunt,” she said. “I will wreck your fucking career, you piece of shit. In the meeting, you’re going to vote to let the Peacekeeper team play. One fucking word otherwise and you’re finished. You get me? One fucking word, Dan. Your choice, asshole.”
She turned on her heel and marched out of the garage. Izzy caught up to her in the hall.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try and make things right,” Mei stated, the pills rattling in her fist as she moved as swiftly as her injuries would allow. “I have to find Hawk before he gets to the meeting.”
Hawk felt like ten pounds of shit in a five pound sack.
Julia and Roman had done a fantastic job of getting the team ready, their vehicles waiting in the garage. The Shithawk cruiser had been repaired; they’d found a new engine that had been installed in the trunk where the spent jet turbine had been, the front and rear axles had been replaced by a pair swapped off an old tractor, and they’d found a good used transmission, but also new guards, new screens for the windows, and a few new toys to install on board. Best of all, Roman had found an old dune buggy to swap onto the team in place of Mass’ totaled truck; an older vehicle that was only a little shorter than the monster truck had been, sitting on huge tires wrapped in spiked chains and outfitted with all the bells and whistles that would have made him a fierce competitor in the coming match.
The lynchpin had been the Menace’s truck. It was repaired, looking a little more patchwork for all the parts that had been swapped in from Mass’ yellow monster truck, but just as lethal. It had been a wild scramble after the announcement of Otis’ death to keep the thing in the garage. They had wanted to cremate him inside the truck, but there had been no decision whether the final would proceed. And they needed the truck, if they were going to compete. After a tooth-and-nail fight, the Carnage bylaws had forbidden the wanton destruction of the vehicle.
All the paperwork was done, all the fees paid. Their coffers were near empty for their efforts, and that small victory seemed empty now on the ominous march to what Hawk assumed would be their disqualification. He led the team toward the meeting, dragging his feet up the stairs and through offices that were so clean he felt wrong just being in them. His eyes burned from his own private tears, not really seeing anything as he walked.
Otis, you old bastard… Why’d you have to kick off now? He was wracked with guilt over his passing, hating himself for not saying anything when he had discovered the man was sick. But what could I have done anyways? Whatever. Now it was too late, and this whole foray had been for nothing. They were going to disqualify them and he would be back out in the wasteland, a Scavenger bounty on his head the size of the damned Killdozer. At least we’ll have good vehicles to skip town in, Hawk thought bitterly.
“Hawk,” Mass said, stirring him from his reverie. “You ready?”
They were at the door, a shiny black slab with a silver plate on it that read ‘Carnage Board of Trustees’. He sniffed, only able to nod. Mass knocked, left grease streaks on the shiny door, and it opened. Inside was a long table set before a panel of windows that overlooked the arena, seven seats occupied by suits. Most of them were nameless to him, but he recognized the man at the center. Chairman Sung, looking like he had been carved out of wood, his long white moustaches framing a stern frown. The sight of him stirred something in Hawk, giving him a mad dog’s courage.
Otis faced down your damned tank, he thought. You don’t scare me either, old man.
The Dynasty team was already inside— Rather, two of them were. Dan Sung glowered, his face blood and bruised from what looked to be a freshly broken nose that he dabbed at with a stained cloth. Teague stood at his side, expression guarded.
“Hawk!” He paused at the doorway, turning to see Mei and Izzy hobbling up the stairs behind him. “Wait!” He lagged behind until she had caught up to him. Breathing hard, she gripped onto his arm for support. Izzy gave him a sad smile and slipped by. “Hawk, I have to talk to you.”
“Mr. Hawkins,” said a hard voice from within the boardroom. “Ms. Sung. If you would please join us.”
Mei glanced into the boardroom, eyes wide with panic.
“Can you meet me after?” she whispered. Hawk nodded, thoroughly confused. To further his perplexion, she stretched up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’m so sorry about Otis. But please trust me. I’ve got you.”
The same blowhard board member cleared his throat. “Now, please.”
They shuffled inside. The Dynasty stood on one side of the room, the Peacekeeper team on the other.
“There has been much discussion of how to proceed in regards to the final round of this Pro Tour Qualifier,” Chairman Sung began, his voice strong yet soft, commanding a room that waited on baited breath. “We have spent much time digging into past rulings, the Carnage bylaws, and what previous precedents have been set in regards to the death of a driver that was not the result of a Carnage match, or the injuries sustained from a Carnage match.”
He paused, eyeing each team in turn with those dark, beady eyes of his. Hawk met that gaze defiantly, raising his chin a touch.
“As such, the board has taken into consideration the popularity of this season’s PTQ, one of the most profitable and highly rated events in years, and agreed that an outright disqualify of the Peacekeeper team would be an insult to the memory of an esteemed Carnage alumnus such as Otis Grange.”
Hawk nearly shit himself, heart leaping into his throat.
“However,” Chairman Sung continued “We have also reviewed the rules surrounding the admissions physical, which as you all know by now, were falsified by Otis Grange’s personal doctor before the onset of this tournament. This is a clear and indisputable violation.”
Just as quickly, Hawk’s sudden hopes were dashed.
“We have decided to leave it to the remaining combatants to vote on whether or not they wish to continue with the PTQ. If the vote is for a non-compete, the Dynasty team with be named victorious and move onto their earned place on the Carnage circuits. If you all choose to continue in good faith, the third round will proceed as planned. Starting with the Peacekeepers, do you wish to continue without Otis Grange?”
Hawk exchanged a look with Mass, who shrugged. He glanced over his shoulder at Julia and Roman, both of whom nodded with steely determination.
“We do, uh, sir,” Hawk muttered.
“And the Dynasty team?” the Chairman said, looking to the team that contained two of his children. Hawk’s throat closed, unable to breath.
Mei glared at her brother, whose lips curled though he said nothing. She took a resolute step forward.
“We will compete.”
Hawk thought he might pass out. He could charge across the room and kiss that wonderful, beautiful girl! I am going to wear her like a fucking hat next time we’re alone together, he thought. She met his eye, clearly not of the same mind however behind inexplicably sad eyes, and nodded to him.
“So be it,” Chairman Sung said, seeming somewhat crestfallen with the decision. “But there is an addendum to that decision.” Hawk snapped back to the Chairman. “Before the match, which is scheduled for 1700 this evening, the Peacekeeper team must produce a Carnage-sanctioned replacement for Otis Grange.”
“I volunteer!” both Roman and Julia interjected simultaneously.
“Unfortunately,” said another one of the suits, “Mr. Montgomery and Ms. Capps are both currently registered as weapons specialists, unable to change their status this late in the PTQ. This replacement driver will need to be another sanctioned individual.”
“Additionally,” Chairman Sung added, “all appropriate substitution fees will be imposed and must be paid before 1700 tonight. If these requirements are not met, the Peacekeeper team will be disqualified, regardless of this vote. With that, you are all dismissed. Best of luck in the finals.”
Hawk’s nearly collapsed. They had spent almost all their credits on getting their vehicles ready for the final already. Even if they found someone to replace Otis, they would never afford the fees.
It really was over.
“Mei, a moment.”
Mei paused as the meeting filed out, glancing back toward her father as he gestured to dismiss the other board members. Looking back to the hall, she saw the Hawk was already on his way back to the Peacekeeper garage, so she sighed and hobbled over to her father instead. Her jaw clenched as Dan moved in next to her. Her father’s eyes snapped to him.
“Alone please, my son.” Dan stiffened at the command, briefly catching Mei’s eye with an expression that held a threat. She leered back, daring him to defy their father, but he bowed to the man and stormed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Your decision surprises me, daughter,” her father said once they were alone. “Your path to the Carnage circuits is swept clear with no further risk and you opt to allow the outcast Scavengers to compete. Explain.”
Mei bit her lip, unsure how much to say, and her father gave her the time needed to puzzle out how best to phrase it. After grasping for the right words, she sighed and took the bottle of pills from her pocket, holding them out to him. He took them in his thin, sure fingers and turned the label up, moustaches twitching as he frowned.
“I don’t think Otis Grange’s death was pure happenstance,” she said, launching into the story of how the Peacekeeper had collapsed in the Dynasty garage during the first round, confessing how Teague had revealed the pill bottle when she had shown suspicion about it, more or less confessing to his hand in the matter. “Dan made the sudden substitution before our second match,” she finished. “I think he and Teague plotted to murder Otis Grange after Dan bullied the truth out of his doctor.”
Her father was silent for a long moment, then sighed heavily. His shoulders drooped and he suddenly lost all the pomp and hard edges he worked so hard to maintain, looking like nothing more than a tired old man— A very tired old man.
“I suspect what you have deduced is true,” her father intoned, speaking low. “Your brother is a fierce competitor but is so vehement in his pursuit of the same glory that your eldest brother holds has that he often forgets his own honour. You, however,” he shifted, smiling up at her. It was a rare expression that warmed Mei’s heart. “Daughter, you rarely fail to bring honour to our family. Except perhaps when you find yourself in places like the Crossroads.”
She coloured, but let a small laugh escape her nonetheless. Her father’s smile vanished as he looked back at the pill bottle, pocketing it as he drew himself back up. His dark eyes lost their humour and he was the stalwart mogul once more.
“I will see to it that Rufus Teague is escorted away from the Dust Bowl quietly and will silence any media speculation as to why. The point value of his vehicle will be doubled in the prize pool; a Coward’s Retreat, as per the Carnage bylaws. I will not allow this situation to mar the image and name of the Dynasty or the Sung family, but he is no longer welcome to drive under my banner.
“Furthermore,” he continued, resuming his seat and tapping the wooden table before him. A hatch sprung open and he removed a ledger, opening it and selecting one of the smaller booklets within. He opened it and produced a pen, scrawling a fresh credit memo. “With this new knowledge, I fear my ruling against the Peacekeeper team may have been a tad harsh.” He tore off the slip and passed it to Mei, who blinked at the egregious amount written on the memo. “This should suffice for any and all fees for Mr. Hawkins and Mr. Massimino to find a replacement driver. The rest they may keep as a gesture of my condolences.”
“Father, I…” Mei was at a loss. Her father had always been a hard man; fair, but implacable. She had never expected something like this from him.
“You might notice that I have drawn on your brother’s accounts for this grace.”
Mei snorted out a laugh, grinning.
“Thank you, Father.”
He inclined his head and replaced all the ledger back into the desk, closing it.
“Go to young Mr. Hawkins then. And good luck in the final, daughter. Please send your brother in as you leave. I’d like a word.”
Sure enough, Dan was waiting outside and nearly fell back into the boardroom where he had been pressed against the door trying to listen. Mei’s wide grin shocked him and he blinked at her as he straightened. She jut her head toward the inside.
“Dad wants a word.” She winked and was off before he could reply, Dan’s face hilariously sour with nerves.
Mei injuries were screaming at her by the time she reached the Peacekeeper garage. It was silent inside and she wondered if Hawk was elsewhere, but when she banged on the door it opened moments later. Hawk frowned on seeing her. His face was still swollen from his last match, a racoon-mask bruise from where his nose had likely smashed against the steering wheel when he’d decapitated the Judge. Bandages stained with oil and blood were wrapped up along one of his arms, but he still looked a sight better than she did. He was wearing one of those open leather vests again, bare-chested, his faded green mohawk unwashed and oddly appealing in the way it curtained one side of his face.
“Can we talk?” Mei asked. Hawk shrugged, throwing the door wide and moving back into the garage. She frowned. Their vehicles stood ready, including a new dune buggy that looked up the challenge, but other than Hawk it was empty. “Where’s your team?”
He sat down heavily in their little kitchenette, which was devoid of food other than corn chips and beef jerky, and he pulled a half-empty bottle of whiskey toward him. “One of our benefactors pulled the mechanics and specialists, they were gone when we came back. Julia and Roman are off trying to scare up more credits to try and pay the fucking fees your father pressed on us. Mass is looking for a driver. And I am getting piss drunk because there’s not an ice cube’s chance in an exhaust pipe of us pulling this off. We’re done.” He raised the bottle to her. “Congratu-fucking-lations on your win, Mei. You deserve it.”
He tilted the bottle back and the amber liquid began to flow down his throat at an alarming rate. Mei lowered herself into a seat as he slammed the empty bottle down, belching loudly.
“The only thing I deserve is the chance to beat your ass fair and square.” She produced the credit memo and slid it across the table to him. Hawk frowned down at it, face scrunching up in a way that was somehow both adorable and tragic, as though he was trying to focus his quickly blurring vision. He puzzled it out, raised that expression to her, and scoff, shoving the memo away.
“We don’t need Dynasty pity. Just take the win.”
“It’s not pity,” Mei said, pressing the memo back toward him.
“Charity then,” Hawk sneered. He raised the bottle again, scowling as he found it empty, and threw it haphazardly away. It smashed on the door of his shitbox cruiser and he choked out a bitter laugh.
“It’s not charity either, Hawk,” Mei said, heart in her throat. This was not how she pictured this going and she did not like the way he was looking at her. But she was a Carnage driver, she could face down one angry Scavenger. She took a deep breath as he produced a pack of smokes and lit one, squinting toward the kitchen counter, presumably on the hunt for more booze. “Listen…”
Mei spilled out the entire story, speaking swiftly as Hawk’s expression sobered with each sentence tumbling out of her. She let it all out; how they had found out about Grange’s illness, how Dan had tracked down his doctor and conspired with Teague, how she had found out, not leaving anything out. The cigarette was dangling from his open mouth as she finished, and she picked up the credit memo and held it out to him.
“So take this,” she said. “Take it and don’t let Grange’s last efforts be wasted. Take it with my condolences.”
The unlit smoke tumbled down onto his bare chest, landing on the soft curlies there, forgotten. He stared at the credit memo with wide, bloodshot eyes, which raised to her slowly. His mouth snapped shut suddenly and his nostrils flared.
“Your condolences?! Fuck you and your fucking family!”
He was on his feet in moments and Mei leapt back as he flipped the table over with one hand, the other curling into a fist. She backed away, raising her own fists defensively as he bore down on her. The feral anger on his face was terrible to behold and soon Hawk had forced her all the way to the garage wall, pinning her there, his furious face inches from her own. He was breathing hard, near frothing at the mouth, his breath reeking of booze and old smoke. Mei’s courage broke and she braced herself for the inevitable beating to come.
Instead, the credit memo was ripped from her fist.
“We’re going to the final,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “I am going to drive the Menace up the ass of your cowardly, cheating, murderer brother. And if you try and stop me, I’ll put a bullet through your skull.” Mei’s fear vanished at the threat, baring her own teeth.
“I’d like to see you try it,” she spat. “You ungrateful Scav.”
“Stuck up Dynasty cunt!”
“Asshole!”
“Bitch!”
They were in one another’s faces again, neither backing down. Mei’s chest heaved and she sensed naught but danger from the man before her, his fists curling and uncurling. They held each other, poised to pounce and ready for a fight.
Then their lips were locked together, tongues lashing one another in a violent skirmish. They broke apart and regarded one another, then slammed together again, hands flailing in a desperate attempt to tear one another’s clothes off. Hawk growled as he threw them to the ground, Mei falling onto all fours with her ass in the air, pants ripped down. She cried out in ecstasy as he thrust into her, strength of her arms failing as her face ground into the dirty garage floor, slavering as Hawk moaned. The pair lost themselves; more animals than anything as all the pain, rage, and sorrow drove released all over one another.
Hawk panted against Mei’s back, hand stroking her side as he allowed his heart to slow down. She was breathing just as hard, as filthy and cut up from the garage floor as he was, both entirely spent. The furious passion was receding and the calm after that storm was pleasant, almost enough for Hawk to forget the rest of the world. He sighed heavily, hesitant to break it but knowing that it wouldn’t last.
“I’m not taking the credit note.”
Mei sat up, twisting to face him and drawing her bare legs up to cover herself.
And there it is, he thought. The moment shattered.
“You are taking it,” she said. There was no anger in the words now, but she was firm. Hawk shook his head, sitting up as well.
“No,” he said, glancing at the clock above the door. “The match is in two hours and no one is back yet. We’re not going to find anyone to drive for us, Mei. You won.” A shadow of the anger he had felt returned and his tone hardened. “I am going to kill your fucking brother though, I can promise you that.”
Mei sighed, reaching out to touch his cheek, caressing it with her thumb. Hawk allowed himself to press into that touch.
“You’re too good for this world,” she said softly, her hand trailing down his chest to clutch onto his hand. “I’ll leave the memo. If you use it, use it. If you don’t, cash it in anyways. Use the money to start a new life.”
“Elvis will find me,” Hawk said, knowing his father would. “It’s only a matter of time, especially after all the shit with Rosa during the PTQ. I wouldn’t be surprised if the bounty has increased.” He laughed, tasting the bitter flavour of it on his tongue. He pulled away from her. “There’s probably an army of Scavs outside the gates, waiting for me to poke my ugly face out.”
“So let’s keep that ugly mug inside the gates then.”
Hawk chuckled and leaned over to kiss her again. It was gentle and tender, nothing like their sex had been, but it was also sad. Mei leaned away from him.
“I have to go,” she said.
“I know.”
“But I will see you in the finals.” It was a warning more than anything and he laughed again.
“Maybe.”
They rose together, hands falling from one another as they cast about for their clothes. The zipper and button of his jeans were broken, his vest simply gone somewhere; the knees on Mei’s pants were torn, her shirt ripped to shreds. She tossed it aside and she zipped her coat all the way up instead. Both of them were gritty with dirt, cut up and bruised, hair an absolute mess. Dressed, they paused awkwardly to regard one another, and Hawk opened his arms. Mei fell into them and they embraced for a long moment.
“Good luck,” she said into his chest. “Whatever you do.”
“You too.” He kissed the top of her head.
The door to the garage opened and Mass swore as he stumbled to a halt, Hawk and Mei breaking apart.
“Sorry, I—” The big man blushed, rubbing at his neck while trying not to gawk. “I’ll just, uh—”
“It’s all good, Mass,” Hawk said. “Mei was just leaving.”
She gave him one last smile, squeezing his hand, and pump faked Mass as she passed him. The big man flinched and Mei snorted, winking at Hawk before she slipped out the door.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“You alright?” Mass said, wrinkling his wide nose. “Smells like a fuck house in here, dude.”
Hawk chuckled. “I’m good, man. What news?”
“You want the good or the bad?”
“Had my fill of bad news today, truth be told. Give me the good.”
“Well, the good news is that I might have found a driver,” Mass said, “but the bad news is Julia and Roman couldn’t scrounge up anyone to front the credits.”
“Well isn’t it a good thing that Mei paid me so handsomely for my sweet, sweet loving then,” Hawk said, looking around. He located the little yellow scrap of paper, alongside a pack of smokes, and passed it to Mass as he lit one.
“Sweet fuck!” Mass exclaimed. “Is your dick cherry-flavoured or something?”
“It’s a high torque ride, what can I say?” Hawk winked, blowing a streamer of smoke at the big man. “What do you think? Should we use this wonderful gift of Mei Sung’s to risk our lives, or should we cash it in to cut and run?”
“Ain’t even half of what the prize pool is,” Mass grunted. He raised his eyes, grinning behind the credit memo. “We come this far… And I don’t know if I could live myself if we let Otis down. Feel like he’d want us to finish, after everything.”
“So do I,” Hawk replied. He took another few drags, the levity vanishing. “Mass. There’s something else I gotta tell you.”
Hawk laid out what Mei had told him and to his credit, Mass did not erupt at him. But his quiet fury was worse than Hawk’s explosive rage had been. Hawk had to edge forward and pluck the credit memo out of Mass’ huge tightening fists, lest the delicate and irreplaceable paper tear as the big man saw red.
“Let’s kill that fucker,” Mass rumbled. “If nothing else, Dan Sung fucking dies today.”
“Agreed,” Hawk said. They clasped hands, holding fast to one another in that promise. “It’s the least we can do, for Otis.”
“For Otis,” Mass agreed.
The broke apart, flexing manfully in their shared ire.
“With that settled,” Hawk said, “who did you find to drive for us?”
“Uhh…” Mass’ rage was cut by a clear bout of nerves. “Yeah… That might complicate things a little more, given what I walked in on earlier.”
Hawk frowned, raising a brow in question. Mass was unable to meet his eye and something clicked.
“Oh fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Mass, please tell me you didn’t.”
“She’s not sold yet,” Mass admitted. “She has a few conditions. One of which being that she wants you to ask her.”
“Knew you’d come crawling back to me, my Hawk,” Rosa sniffed, acting awfully high and mighty from her infirmary bed. Her arm was in a cast, her face was bandaged and badly bruised from Mei’s attack during the last match, eyes nearly swollen shut and one of her teeth chipped off so that some of her words had a whistle to them that Hawk might have found comical if he wasn’t so dumbstruck that they were even entertaining the idea of letting Rosa onto their team. She glowered at him, as though it was his fault she was so beaten up, licking absently at the split in her puffy lower lip.
“Wasn’t really a choice,” Hawk said, “just a lack of options.”
“So ask me,” she replied, raising her chin a shade higher. Hawk groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He glanced at Mass, who bulged his eyes expectantly.
“Rosa,” Hawk grounded out, “would you please join our team in the final?”
“I don’t know,” she said coyly. “What’s in it for me?”
“Oh fuck off,” Hawk replied. “What a waste of time. Come on, Mass.” He half-turned before her once-taloned fingers caught his wrist, pulling him back. A few of her nails were broken, one ripped off completely.
“I want half the prize money,” she hissed, “and your word that you’ll take me with you when we win, wherever it is you and Mass are going.”
Hawk pulled his wrist free. “How about none of the prize money and you gargle my balls? Drive with us or don’t, I really couldn’t give a shit. I ain’t going to beg you.”
“You fucking piece—”
“What he means to say,” Mass interjected, Rosa still leering at Hawk despite being cut off, “is that whether you compete or not, we have some money to cut and run on. We would rather see this through to the end, for Otis, but we do have a plan B. We figured you’d leap at the chance ”
Rosa looked between them, hatred etched in her battered face.
“I’ll take my share of the prize money,” she said, “and I still want to come with you, wherever you’re going.”
“Why?” Hawk scoffed. She met his eye in challenge, then looked away.
“Elvis isn’t going to welcome me back,” she muttered, somewhat reluctantly. “I promised I’d kill you, and all I’ve managed to do is wreck his car and make myself look like a damned fool.”
Hawk’s guts twisted awkwardly at her candor. He shared a look with Mass, who shrugged.
“I don’t think you’ve made yourself into a fool,” he said, clearing his throat. “You’ve just been playing the game. We’ve all been caught up in it.”
“He didn’t want me to compete in the first place,” Rosa went on. “I convinced him; you know how persuasive I can be, Hawk. “But after everything in the tabloids about you, me, and Mei fucking Sung…” She bristled. “That’s another condition of mine. If I choose to drive with you, I want the first crack at that dumb slut.”
“If we let you drive with us,” Hawk corrected her. “I’m not taking you along with us, Rosa. Win or lose, you can go back to Elvis. I’m sure you can persuade him to take you back in.”
“No,” she said, looking down into her lap and twisting her fingers. “I can’t.” She reached over to her bedside table and thrust an opened envelope toward Hawk. He took it and unfolded it. A bullet rolled into his hand, ‘Rosa’ carved into the side of it.
“Honeymoon’s over, I guess,” Hawk muttered. She shot him the dirtiest look he had ever seen someone muster. “Sammy and Gregor too?”
“They, uhh,” she said, her voice wavering in a way that took Hawk off guard. “They tell me Sammy is in a coma and might not wake up. Her brain is swollen pretty bad. Gregor… He died from his injuries last night. Crush wounds and burns on more than seventy-five percent of his body.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Mass muttered. “May they rest easy.”
Rosa turned something like a pleading glare on Hawk. “Don’t make me go it alone. I’ll take my share of the prize money and leave you alone once I’m clear of the wastes.”
“What do you think?” Mass asked Hawk. He was still looking into Rosa’s eyes, frowning.
“I think she’s a conniving, manipulative bitch,” Hawk said, Rosa hardening again. He didn’t like it, but sighed in resignation. “What other choices do we have? You want in, you’re in. Welcome to the team, Rosa.” He held out his hand and she winced, moving the arm that wasn’t in a cast to grasp it. Hawk squeezed a little harder than usual as they shook. “Oh, and we’re a classy team so try to keep your tits tucked away, eh?”
She threw his hand away, gritting her teeth from the pain. He laughed.
“Jackass.”
“If you think I’m an ass now,” Hawk grinned. “Wait until you see which car we’re sticking you in.”
It’s all coming to an end… Who will be victorious in the final round? Mei Sung and the Dynasty, who have used every trick in the book to reach the end? Hawk and his patchwork team, fighting for the memory of Otis Grange?
Find out here, in the thrilling FINAL INSTALLMENT of Carnage!