Carnage! Love & Lust in the Wasteland
ROUND TWO (PEACEKEEPERS VS. FREAKS)
Hawk moaned. Mei was grinding on top of him beneath the Carnage spotlights, the Victory Lap full of growling engines competing in decibels with the fans in the crowd, but he only saw her. Her black hair shone under the harsh lights, smooth skin glistening with carnal sweat. He ran his hands over the soft curves of her breasts as she ground her hips into him ever harder, his breath quickening as her back arched. He felt the pressure building, his muscles contracting, and—
“That’s it, baby,” purred a voice in his ear, low and unsettlingly familiar. “Cum for me, my Hawk.”
His eyes shot open as he came, mouthing wordlessly at Rosa laying next to him on the narrow prison cot. She had a firm grip on his cock, the traitorous organ twitching and sticky, the pad of her thumb massaging the head and sending ripples of post-orgasmic shocks through him. She gave him a feline grin and Hawk cried out, tossing her off the cot as he upended it, bashing his head into the wall as it flipped over on top of him. Rosa swore as her ass skidded on the rough concrete floor.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hawk spat, throwing the cot off himself and feeling like he needed a thousand showers. He found his pants and tore the knee out as he pulled them on, swearing as he zipped them over the mess of his half-hard dick. “How did you even get in here? Guard!”
Rosa chuckled low as Hawk’s call went unanswered. She examined her hand, a string of white dangling between her thumb and trigger finger. She flicked it at him and he sputtered as the cold goo struck his forehead, wiping it away furiously. She moved over to the small sink and stepped on the pedal so the brown water gushed out in a weak stream. She ran her hands under the water and Hawk tried not to look at the curve of her ass peeking out from the impossibly short shorts – more like denim panties at this point — and dried her hands on the filthy towel as she turned back to him, leaning against the low sink and giving him a goading smirk.
“I had Sammy distract the guard while I let myself in. The lock was a cheap one.” Hawk blinked and saw that the iron-barred door was ajar. “I came to chat, my Hawk, but I saw that you were no doubt dreaming sweet dreams of me and got sidetracked.”
“They may call me a motherfucker but I’d never actually cross that line, Mom.”
She snorted, tossing the towel away.
“I want you to drop out of the PTQ.”
“And I want you to drop dead!” Hawk fired back.
Rosa raised a narrow brow and cocked her hip out, crossing her arms in a way that pushed her tits up and nearly out of her white tube top.
“Drop out,” she said again.
Hawk narrowed his eyes, straining to keep them on her face.
“Why?”
“Because if you do, I’ll do the same. You and I can take the considerable sum I’ve already made from selling unused boons out the back of our garage and Elvis will just have to do without his Ranchero. We’re going to need a good warmachine before we can gather a following of our own anyways. You think Mass would join us or—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hawk said, holding up his hands to pause her seemingly rehearsed sales pitch. “Rosa. I wouldn’t run away with you for all the credits in the Ministry’s holdings.” Her mouth hung agape, a glitter of pain behind her lovely dark eyes, and Hawk felt himself soften a touch. “I’m sorry, but I—”
She moved in a flash and her taloned fingers raked his face, scratching over his eye. Hawk cried out as she fell on top of him, scratching with the fury of a wildcat in a roadrunner’s den. Hawk fought through the shock and wrestled against her. Rosa dug her fingernails into his wrists and pinned them. Hawk struggled, but she held him fast, her dark tresses brushing against his snarling lips.
“I will kill your little China doll,” she spat, her ferocious sincerity stunning him to stillness. “Forget the match, forget everything else. I will drive that truck right up her rich asshole. I’ll smash her and that piece of shit bike into a wall and open fire until her brains are splattered over half the crowd—”
“Shut up!” Hawk growled, renewing his struggle and failing to break her hold. Rosa’s nostrils flared, eyes shining in the shadows of her face. She leaned down close.
“I will annihilate her,” Rosa hissed, voice like venom. “I will take her from you, I’ll kill everything you love, unless you come with me.” She released his wrists, straightening while remaining astride him. They stared at one another, neither blinking or moving for a long moment. Slowly, Rosa climbed off him. Hawk sat up as she backed toward the cell door.
“Make a choice, my Hawk,” she said, flat and serious. “Drive in your match today, I’ll know you chose her. Surrender from your team…” She smiled brightly, a true feral beauty, any man’s wet dream. “And we can leave by midday.” She blew him a kiss, slammed the cell shut, and disappeared up the corridor.
Hawk laid back against his upturned cot, considering her offer and tossing it aside.
Mei can take you, fucking crazy bitch, Hawk thought, then his mouth went dry. I hope…
*FLAG TAG - MUDHOLE - MODERATE HAZARD*
Mei has managed to commission a blimp before this next match as her performance in the first round had made it so she was mobbed in the stands, even support staff coming up to harass her for autographs and pictures in the private corridors. She relished the chance to relax, given that was mostly bruises and bandages from her match and didn’t have the strength to evade them all. The blimp also provided sanctuary from Dan, who was becoming fanatical about Hawk and the Menace despite her victory. She and Izzy stood looking out over the arena, the craft’s autopilot hacked to fly lower than usual, the view of the pending Carnage a spectacular one that could never be bought by any of the droves of fans.
Images from their previous Peacekeeper match flooded the jumbotrons: Mass’ monster truck demolishing one of the Soviet UAZs off the starting line, the Menace using his harpoon to tow Hawk into a slingshot, and her darling renegade running the gauntlet of gunfire like a death-crazed maniac only to plow the Soviets out of first place. The were interspersed with shots from the Freaks previous run, which had also been in the Mudhole. A new age Mustang on huge studded tires sent the coolant splattering like blood from a Buccaneer raider when its minigun shredded through the grille and engine. A replica Barracuda, its huge wheels wrapped in spiked chains, sideswiped a Buc truck and reduced the men that fell under its tires to gory pulp. And an original GTO Judge with wide swampers on it nearly overturned itself as the ridiculously oversized tank gun swiveled to lob a shot into a minibus, the tank round blowing it straight to hell alongside its pirate crew. The crowd relished in each replay, charged and ready for more blood after not only a long night of partying, but also the sideshow of nuclear-powered drag racers that had dominated the track that morning.
But the second round was about to begin.
The Mudhole lay below them and it was a sloppy beast. The course was an open field, soaked to shimmering with enough soft, loose mud to bog down even Mass’ monster truck. Bits of debris stuck up here and there, glinting in the midmorning sun, and a single triangle flag flapped in the hot breeze at the center of the mess. Flag Tag could be a bloody game and Mei could only imagine what lurked beneath the oily muck. She glanced at the garage doors and also wondered if Hawk had been let out of prison yet.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Izzy said. Mei gave her an annoyed look.
“I wouldn’t put it past Dan to try something.”
“He didn’t with Grange, why would he now?”
Mei had told Izzy about Dan’s suspicions after Otis Grange’s collapse in the office and she hadn’t taken it as seriously as Mei did. If Grange had indeed fudged his physical so he could complete with whatever condition he had, Dan could have them thrown out of the PTQ. Given that the condition was not hindering the Menace any, she just wished her idiot brother would let it go.
“Just paranoid I guess,” Mei shrugged.
The fanfare kicked up, almost immediately drowned out by the roar of the crowd. The jumbotrons cleared, then brought up the team stats for the Peacekeepers and Freaks. The Menace’s ragtag band was the obvious favourites, but the mutant muscle cars the Freaks drove had earned their fans as well. The drones panned over the crowd and Mei saw one Freak-fan smash a bottle over the head of a man wearing a t-shirt with the likeness of Hawk’s steepled green mohawk on it. They printed those fast, Mei thought while the faceless NexGen androids moved in to break up the ensuing brawl.
Mei looked away from the crowd and forced her attention on the Mudhole. One of these teams would be going to the final and she needed to memorize their tricks and strategies. Her heart gave a dull pang and she hoped for a moment the Freaks would win the day, then felt as though she was somehow betraying Hawk at the thought.
Hate to have to wipe the floor with such a pretty mug, she thought, glancing at Hawk’s scowling photo on the screen.
“Carnage fans!” the announcer roared. “Welcome back to the ol’ Mudhole! The first match of the day is moments away, so let’s make haste! The game is… Flag Tag!”
There was much less grandeur as the second round of Carnage commenced, the garage doors flying open. The Freaks rumbling out in their muscle cars, looking much the same as they had in the first round. The Mustang was electric blue where the paint hadn’t been scraped down to the metal, a sizable minigun mounted in his passenger seat, spinning barrel jutting through the armour plating that had replaced half the windshield. The Barracuda was black with something like a cyborg shark maw painted on the front fenders. Besides the huge spiked wheels, Mei had no idea about its weapons, but it was carrying a full crew of four men inside. The GTO Judge chugged into the mud on its swampers, repainted from the first match back to the classic orange that the car was famous for, including the swiveling tank gun the car’s cab. A feat of beauty and engineering. Mei missed the names of the drivers but didn’t care much about that. Each of them rumbled through a Victory Lap and then into the mud itself, sinking deep.
Mei frowned. She hadn’t expected it to be that sloppy and grew suspicious. It was rated a moderately hazardous playing field, but it had to be more than mud… What was Carnage up to?
The Peacekeeper garage rolled up, a gout of exhaust preceding Monster Mass, the Menace on his heels with a set of more aggressive tires on the steel blue pickup. There was a brief delay, both of them part way down the Victory Lap, and Mei frowned.
“Shithawk, are you afraid to come out?” the announcers teased. “Come on now, don’t be shy!”
The Shithawk flew out of the garage to a thunder of applause, looking to be more welds than anything else after the first round and trailing a heavy black cloud of exhaust as it raced to catch up with Mass and the Menace. The drones swooped and Mei frowning as the focused on a crudely painted message atop the old cruiser.
‘GO FUCK YOURSELF’
The crowd hollered with laughter and the drones swooped down on Hawk himself, who looked a little pale and somber from his stint in the cells, long green hair streaming. Mei’s confusion at the message was short lived, spotting tattered black fabric flapping from Hawk’s antenna. She pursed her lips, trying not to smile. Of course her underwear had come away from the first round unscathed. The motley crew rumbled into the mud, Mass and the Menace faring a lot better than Hawk. They had put truck tires onto his car but the loose mud was still sloshing around his frame when he slogged onto the field.
The two teams faced each other from opposite ends of the muck, the little red flag at the center, engines revving.
“Fans, the rules of this one are simple,” the announcer cried, a swarm of drones drifting down bearing tiny flags which they planted into the mud: four flags near the corners of the course, while two others were dropped at random intervals, the last in the center. “Seven flags on the field to be collected by our fierce competitors. A countdown will begin when four of seven have been collected by a single team. If that team keeps them until the time runs out, they take the match. Wreck a vehicle holding flags and the points for those flags are transferred to the vehicle who dealt the death blow! A simple game… But ho! What’s this now?”
The crowd roared and Mei’s guts clenched as the central flag began to rock violently then rose up out of the muck, revealing that it was mounted on top of a low vehicle that she had only ever seen in Carnage archives before, never live. It was wedge shaped and heavily armoured with a jagged ram on the front and back, the barrels of a half dozen guns ran down its flanks, the whole thing crawling on treads like a terrible submarine-tank hybrid.
“Round two comes with a twist, ladies and gentleman! For your Carnage pleasure: the Juggernautilus!”
Shots banged out of the Juggernautilus as it began to turn in place, lobbed mortar shots of molten slag that fell just short of both teams, hissing in the mud that it sunk back into.
The jumbotrons tuned into different angles of the field as a drone drifted down with the swinging traffic light to start the match. Mei’s knuckles were white on the rail, catching a glimpse of Hawk as one swooped close to him, jaw pressed tight together and gripping his steering wheel as though he meant to rip it free. He leered at the drone, flipping it off to a hoot of approval from the audience. The red light illuminated and revving engines cried with the horsepower waiting to be unleashed.
“3… 2… 1… Flag Tag!”
Mass’ monster truck tore into the mud at the head of Hawk’s team, spewing huge plumes of muck as it moved toward the center, apparently intent on claiming the flag mounted atop the Juggernautilus. The spiked wheeled Barracuda rushed head-on to meet him, the leather jacketed men inside howling out the windows and waving assault rifles as they bore down on the monster truck. The sunken horror moved before either of them reached it, shooting off with surprising speed. The mud shifted, sliding overtop of it and then it vanished entirely, flag and all. The mud was even deeper in some spots it seemed.
“First contact!” Izzy cried.
Mass and the ‘Cuda veered off in the wake of the Juggernautilus, assault rifles rattling into the monster truck, bullets thunking into some of the barrels he was hauling. The sludge gun swiveled atop Mass’ rig and popped as it ejected a thick blob of something caustic. The junk struck home on the roof of the ‘Cuda and the gunfire ceased, but one Freak hadn’t ducked inside fast enough and began to scream, clawing at his face while the chemical mess began to strip the paint off the ‘Cuda’s roof. But Mass wasn’t done there. His flamethrower lashed out and in seconds, the entire mess was engulfed, the ‘Cuda’s crew batting at the creeping fire while one scorched corpse fell out the window and hit the mud, sinking out of sight.
“A fine opening gambit by Monster Mass and the Barracuda!” the announcer cried over the cheering crowds. “If only the rest of the Peacekeepers were so fortunate!”
Hawk and the Menace had veered off alone, each heading for the flag nearest them. The Menace was forcing his way through the mud, his truck stained dirt brown already as he threw rooster tails of muck, hood dipping below the surface each time he hit a low point, but at least he was moving. Hawk’s exhaust bubbled in the filth where he had become wedged, tires spinning in a glorious fountain of mud but the cruiser itself making little headway. He was the lowest threat on the field and the Freaks knew it, the Mustang and Judge cutting a path toward the Menace and hot on his bumper. Mei was pressed to the rail, watching as the tank gun cranked into line with the pickup truck at the same time that Grange’s harpoon swiveled toward the Judge. The crowd cried out as the harpoon flew and lodged itself in one of the Judge’s tires moments before the tank gun deafened the arena around them, the shot flying wide of the pickup truck by inches. The crowd screamed on seeing the barbed harpoon had begun to flattened the tire and ruined the aim that might’ve been the end of the Menace.
The Mustang’s minigun spun to life and shots threw plumes of mud as they crawled toward the Menace, his harpooner spinning away to show her shield to them while the bullets bashed against the tailgate of the old pickup and threw up sparks. The Mustang pulled ahead while the Judge lagged, trying to account for the flattened swamp tire it was now dragging. Despite its barrage of hot lead, the Menace kept pace and Grange threw the truck into the sloppiest drift Mei had ever seen, his grizzled hand out the window and ripping the flag out of one of the corners. The crowd went nuts as he threw up a wall of mud that crashed down over the Mustang, blinding its driver. The jacked up muscle car smashed headlong into the wall, the Menace honking his horn gleefully as he escaped and tore off towards the next corner and another flag.
The air horn blared and the jumbotrons flashed: 1-0 – PEACEKEEPERS.
Another roaring wave of jubilation came from the crowd and Mei whipped around to see that both Mass and the ‘Cuda were aflame now, circling one another and making a whirlpool in the mud. Mass’ sludge gun popped off a final shot and then was consumed as fire tore through the lines of the burning chemicals in his box, the tops of the steel drums beginning to blow off and spew caustic flames onto his tires. A screaming man with wild dreadlocks was perched on the edge of the passenger window with a case of grenades on his lap, hurling them at the ‘Cuda was reckless abandon. One exploded against one of the tires and the spiked chain blew apart, slinking into the mud while the remaining crew of the Barracuda (the driver and a single passenger in the back), fired wildly at the burning monster truck. Whatever Mass had doused them with had eaten through their roof and the passenger was standing in the hole, two assault weapons bucking in his hands. His weapons clicked and he swore inaudibly, tossing the guns with eyes bulging as a grenade plunged into the ‘Cuda’s cab. The man juggled it for a moment before managing to hurl it back toward Mass, the explosive detonating midair in a ball of flaming shrapnel. Mass braked suddenly, a wash of mud kicking up and dousing much of the flames on his truck, the ‘Cuda coming around, its driver howling fury as he bore down on the halted truck and—
Izzy gasped as mortar shot ripped out of the muck in a spray, the Juggernautilus rising from the depths and cutting the mud like a shark’s fin while it hurtled toward the two, red flag snapping mud off as it hit the open air. Molten slag smashed against what was left of the Cuda’s windshield, melting through in moments. Mei saw the driver on the jumbotron, crying out and panicked as slag fell into his lap, his pained expression terrible as he tried to pick it off and throw it out. The dreadlocked man leapt from Mass’ truck as the mortar came down, the slag hissing on the mud Mass had coated himself in, and the monster truck sputtered and smoked as it moved off without the dreadlocked gunner, leaving the Juggernautilus to careen into the burning Barracuda. Its spiked ram shredded off one of the front tires as it rose up and pushed the ‘Cuda over entirely, turning and disappearing into the muck again.
“Iiiiiiincredible!” the announcer cried. “How Monster Mass saw the Juggernautilus coming, I will never know! The Barracuda is done for and Monster Mass is heading for the Peacekeeper’s second flag, with gunner Roman Montgomery chasing him on foot! Or is he swimming?”
The crowd hooted with raucous laughter and drones swooped down to the surprisingly handsome dreadlocked man, nipple-deep in the muck and wading in the wake of the retreating monster truck, hurling unheard curses at its driver as Mass veered away from the flag to come back for him.
“Otis Grange heading for another flag, the mad Mustang is back on his bumper,” the announcer cried. “But can he dodge judgment again? Let’s see!”
The Judge had given up maneuvering and turreting about to bring Grange back into line, but the swing mechanism was slow enough that the Menace could keep ahead of it if he didn’t lose his speed. The pickup’s gunner fired harpoons into the pursuing Mustang, one stuck fast in the pursuing car’s grille and leaking coolant off the end while its studded tires seemed to be gaining traction from all the harpoon shafts sticking out of them. Mei would have given up that tactic long before this point, suspecting they were filled solid. The minigun was still hammering their rear, the tailgate more smoldering holes than solid metal now, but Mei saw the weakness in that attack. The minigun couldn’t aim. Grange pulled another broadside drift, window spooling down as he reached for the flag and…
The air horn sounded, rattling Mei’s teeth. 2-0 – PEACEKEEPERS.
Grange sped off, keeping the perimeter of the course and going for the far end where another flag snapped about in the mud. The Mustang, finding its sense finally, veered off the Menace’s tail and turned sharply onto the course to go after one of the more central flags, the closest to him leading him toward Mass’ limping monster truck.
“Are the pair of remaining Freaks outmatched?” the announcer called. “Will these three Peacekeepers sweep the field so easily? Or is it only two? The Shithawk doesn’t seem to have moved!”
More jeering laughs came at Hawk’s expense, the drones swooping to show him only just managing to bring his car around. His face was screwed up in anger, smashing his steering wheel as the shitbox bogged down again. He was facing the Judge, the closest vehicle to him, and bearing down on it at a crawl in some vain attempt to cover the Menace. She saw Hawk mouth ‘Fuck it!’ and he jammed the controls on his dash, the machine guns mounted on his hood coming to life and sending pinging bullets against the heavily armoured Judge. The Judge, who had nearly lined up the Menace, instead stopped its barrel on Hawk. For the pleasure of the audience, the tank gun swung back and forth as though shaking its head ‘No’ before resuming its hunt, the three good swampers dragging it off as best they could through the mud and leaving Hawk to his red-faced temper tantrum.
“The Judge must have really limited ammo,” Mei muttered, Izzy grunting her assent. There was no other reason to not take the free shot at Hawk. That was noteworthy. It would pick its targets carefully and would be less intimidating once its ammo was expended.
The airhorn blew suddenly. 3-0 – PEACEKEEPERS.
Mei whipped around to see Roman Montgomery climbing back into the monster truck with one of the rogue central flags, waving it like a madman for the cheering crowd as the Mustang bore down on them. He managed to duck back into the cab and throw a steel plate into the window as the minigun spooled up and began peppering the struggling monster truck with hot lead as it rumbled off toward the far corner after another, and perhaps the winning, flag.
“This is ridiculous,” Mei said. “I don’t know why the Mustang bothers with Mass at all when the Menace is carrying the team. They were right to leave Hawk, he’s basically useless, but they should have focused solely on the Menace. And if not, they should be—”
The Judge’s cannon broke off Mei’s thoughts and she heard Izzy gasp. The tank round exploded, sending up a torrent of mud that nearly reached them in the blimp, but it had not been the Menace who had taken the hit. The entire front end of Mass’ monster truck had been blown away, the cab on fire and spreading fast as it skidded to a muddy halt. The roar of the crowd came through as they realized what happened, the air horn erupting.
2-1 – PEACEKEEPERS.
“Bad luck, Monster Mass! A monster no more!” the announcer cried as the big man and his dreadlocked gunner bailed out from the burning wreck, then dove into the mud as the Mustang careened toward them, minigun spewing hot lead. There was a healthy mix of jeering boos mixed into the fans at that. Gunning someone down after their vehicle was wrecked was not cool with some fans.
“Fucking dirty,” Izzy scoffed, leaning over the rail to see Mass pop back out of the oily muck like a great whale. The Mustang gave the burning truck a bump as it went by, headed for the other central flag with no obstacles as the pair from the monster truck shouted at one another, then came to blows. Their fist fight was flashed up on the jumbotrons, Mass hauling the smaller man up and rearing back with a huge fist as the air horn blasted again.
2-2 – TIE GAME.
Another flag up, the Mustang did a sloshy donut in the muck and threw a huge wall of mud up around it in celebration as the crowd went wild. It exploded out of the maneuver, spewing huge streamers of filth as it veered back toward the Menace, who was still rounding out the wide arena in hopes of an easy win.
“It’s going to be close,” Mei said, seeing what the Mustang was actually doing. The Judge was tracking along with it as it trudged, lining up a shot while his teammate corralled the target. She cast a glance at Hawk, who was bubbling in even deeper mud somehow, muck starting to slosh into his cab. She shook her head. They were outmatched. There was no way the Menace was surviving a direct hit from that tank gun. With momentum, the Mustang was headed straight for the Menace with purpose, poised to make him swerve off course.
The flag came out of the mud first and the crowd went wild as the rest of the Juggernautilus surfaced, running like a shark right at the Mustang. The Freak tried to swerve at the last second, but couldn’t maneuver as well as the hunter in the mud. The driver’s side of the Mustang bucked into the air and the Juggernautilis drove under it, carrying the Freaks for a moment before it made a dead stop. The Mustang slid off into the muck, slammed onto two wheels, and then pitched over in the mud. It spun its tires furiously, throwing mud off at two in the air, the crowd roaring as the Juggernautilis sunk back down.
The crowd roared and Mei looked around. The distraction was enough that the Menace was closing on the next corner flag— She gasped. The Judge had the flag well in its crosshairs, waiting for the Peacekeeper to move into striking range. Given the overall speed of the Menace, he did not see the threat. Every jumbotron flipped to the forthcoming attack.
“No!” Mei cried.
The air horn blared. The cannon fired. The Menace pitched onto its side, thrown into the corner with a sickening, twisted crunch. When the mud and smoke cleared, Mei saw that the pickup was on its side, the passenger door and part of the frame and fender blown away, the truck pouring smoke and bent into the corner of the arena at an awkward angle. The crowd hushed for a moment and watched the wheels stop spinning as the air horn sounded again.
3-2 – PEACEKEEPERS. The screen flickered. 5-0 – FREAKS.
The crowd erupted and Mei’s heart fell out her ass as Otis Grange climbed out of the overturned pickup, helping his gunner out as well where she had crawled through the rear window.
“Start the timer!” the announcer cried, a huge 15 second countdown beginning on the screens. “A fine move by the Freaks! Looks like it’s all over now. Can someone check the Menace’s shorts? There is no way he didn’t shit himself on that hit! Give him a round of applause, folks. Well fought, Menace. Well fought all of you! Oh— Looks like no one told the Shithawk it’s done!”
Hawk was frothing at the mouth, his car lined up with the Judge and spraying it with bullets from his front mounted machine guns. Mei clenched her teeth as the Judge rotated the tank gun to train it on him.
“Stop, you idiot,” she hissed. “You’re going to get yourself killed!” She eyed the timer, slowly clicking down as her moronic paramour threw life away in a Carnage-sized tantrum. The tank gun fell on him, the drones swooping to look at Hawk, who had his jaw set and was relentlessly hammering the tank armour to no avail. Mei felt like shutting her eyes, not wanting to see this but unable look away.
The mud between the two bubbled and churned, the Juggernautilus rising from the murk and turning in place. Mortar fired out both sides and on the jumbotron she saw Hawk blanch, ducking down as hot metal spread over his grated windshield. The Judge was struck but less affected, letting off a shot with its cannon that smashed against the side of the Juggernautilus with enough force that it was thrown sideways in the muck, the armour dented and scorched where the tank round had hit it.
And then the arena lit up as the Juggernautilis returned fire, cannons raining molten hell.
Mortar cascaded down on Hawk and the Judge and Mei nearly fell over the rail as she tried to see through the onslaught. The crowd was going wild and someone was screaming – she was screaming – as hot slag and fire buried the shitbox cruiser and Hawk with it. The Judge tried to pivot out, all its remaining tires bursting as they caught fire. It seemed to take forever, the ticking timer slowing in her peripheral, fire and slag filling the world with a haze. Finally, the Juggernautilus ceased fire and when the smoke cleared, she saw that the Judge was still rotating weakly, mired to the cannon’s swing frame in the mud. The Juggernautilus began to slink back to the depths, leaving the destruction behind it and Mei’s heart rattled in her chest.
The shitbox bucked, rattled, and the trunk flew open in a shower of cooling slag. There was a metallic whirring, the cruiser lurching suddenly and then shooting forward at suicidal speeds on the power of the jet turbine in its trunk, carried atop a layer of mud like a speedboat, throwing huge waves off its slag covered hood. It hit the descending Juggernautilis, catching air off the wedged hull and hurtling through the air. The cruiser slammed into the Judge beneath the barrel of the cannon, bending it upward as the Shithawk crumpled against the armour. Whatever held the cannon atop the old muscle car gave way under the assault and the armoured section ripped free, sliding into the mud on the other side of the Judge while the shitbox cruiser ground to a halt atop the shorn body of the muscle car, flattening it into the mud.
The arena fell into a stunned silence as the countdown halted with three seconds remaining. The door of the shitbox fell off its hinges and Hawk climbed out, covered in angry burns and blinking at what he had done. The shitbox cruiser groaned and spluttered from its perch, engine somehow still running— If it could be called that. Every fluid one could imagine pissed out into the muck below.
The air horn sounded and the drones swooped, focussing on Hawk, on the carnage, and on the flag jammed in the cruiser’s front grille ripped from atop the Juggernautilus.
5-1 – PEACEKEEPERS.
The stadium trembled with the uproar from the fan, the timer resetting needlessly and running down while Mei screamed, clutching onto Izzy who shouted her own jubilation alongside her. You idiot, she thought, looking at the nonplussed Hawk who was waving to the crowd weakly as he waited. You suicidal, wonderful moron! Her throat was raw when the timer finally elapsed, the tow trucks and emergency vehicles coming to haul the vehicles and their drivers off the field.
Her heart sank quite suddenly and a stunned silence fell between her and Izzy, both staring down at the field.
“They won,” Izzy said.
“They did,” Mei agreed.
They needn’t say anything else. The Peacekeepers were going to the finals.
If Mei’s team won their match, she was going to be facing off against Hawk.
For some reason, that scared her more than facing the Scavengers.
The cat fight is coming… Mei vs. Rosa. Come see theses two smitten femme fetales duke it out in ROUND TWO: Dynasty vs. Scavengers!