Carnage! Love & Lust in the Wasteland
Chapter VI: Restless Nights
Hawk’s eyes stung from looking at the small screen. The tablet had been a complimentary thing from the arena; a registry of all the teams (drivers, weapons, tactics, vehicles, etc.), but devoid of any boons granted to them that might be used as super secret tech in a match. He had been fiddling with the damned thing all night, fully understanding why he had heard rumours of city folk getting addicted to them. It was kinda entertaining in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Aside from that, he welcomed the distraction from sleep that would never come, despite the exhausting day. He couldn’t understand how anyone could sleep tonight, not with a day of Carnage looming. He clicked on the schedule button on the home screen, the brackets loading up.
0900: PTQ Match: Peacekeepers vs. Soviets
1030: Hornet Heat Races, Kids Division
1200: PTQ Match: Buccaneers vs. Freaks
1330: Stock Car Derby, Anything But Wheels Challenge
1500: PTQ Match: Firebugs vs. Scavengers
1630: Classic Car Rally, No Replicas
1800: PTQ Match: Dynasty vs. Hayao
2000: VIP Mixer
They were first in the lineup for the day’s events, a notion that had kept Hawk’s heart in his throat since the schedule had been posted.
I could be dead in less than twelve hours, he thought. Getting here, registering, the opening ceremonies, the press event… Nothing was left between him and a team of hard-as-fuck Soviets trying their best to destroy the shitbox Crown Vic, and Hawk along with it. Before bed, they had made some modifications to his so-called warmachine, but given the scope of the forthcoming threat, they were pathetic by comparison. He returned to the home screen and tapped the hammer-and-sickle icon.
The Soviet photo montage spooled up; a seasoned bunch who Otis said were like a god damned Russian ballet for how in sync they were, and even though Hawk had no idea what a ‘ballet’ was, he could tell it was bad. He scrolled through the driver profiles for the hundredth time, skimming the words and pictures. The longer he forced himself to try and puzzle out some of the big egghead words in the vehicle descriptions, the tighter his chest felt. Like even their weapons and vehicles were smarter than him. The cabs of their three UAZs were armour plated all around, with only a small slit of blacked out bulletproof glass for driver visibility. Plated channels of wiring covered the vehicles, leading up to spiraling coils that snaked around a thick rod that ended in a bright metal ball, the registry calling the weapon an ‘arc lightning emitter’. Whatever the fuck that meant. There were other weapons on their list that were easier for Hawk to sound out: mesh net launchers, various sidearms, and the like. But most of it was modified into some sort of electrical weapon, Otis had tried to explain.
Electricity over bullets, Hawk thought, rolling his eyes. It seemed less efficient than a bullet between the eyes. Elvis had always said Soviets were nuts. Great to drink with, but nuts.
Each of the Soviet vehicles was the same in points, two at thirty-three and the other picking up the difference at thirty-four. Hawk hadn’t bothered with the finer details on the drivers; there had been too many of those weird block letters peppered in for his taste. Otis had said they were practically identical in terms of build and skill anyways, the only difference being that the vehicle worth thirty-four points was carrying a single grenade on board. It’d be impossible to tell who was who once they were out there, each UAZ was painted the same iron gray with the hammer-and-sickle stenciled onto the barn doors at the back.
Hawk sighed, tapping the little red X at the top of the screen and making the Soviet team page fall away, the home page with all the emblems of the teams fading in from the background. His finger hovered for a moment over the Dynasty lotus. He bit his lip, inexplicably nervous as though he was a creep hiding in the brush, and tapped it.
The Dynasty page loaded up with the montage of their vehicles and drivers. A speed team, they would be hell bent for leather in a race format, but Hawk imagined some of the more rough and tumble formats being a problem for the motorcycle and little hatchback on their team. A sudden vision of Mei crushed under the massive tire of Mass’ truck filled his head. He shook it away, the ridiculous hair extension swinging into his mouth, and he spat them out with a string of muttered curses. When he looked again, it seemed that in his struggles he had pulled up Mei’s profile.
Driver: Sung, Mei – Age: 19 – Vehicle: Kawasaki S454 Supra – Registered Weapons: dual handlebar mounted machine guns, caltrop dispenser, sidearm – Sponsor: Dynasty Munitions Syndicate
Hawk scrolled through her registration pictures, lingering on that smarmy smirk that sent his guts fluttering. She was a looker, well put together and polished as a hidden dagger. What appeal she saw in Hawk’s company was beyond him. Maybe she was just sick of straightlaced stiffs like that brother of hers. He scrolled through a few more pictures – pausing for a moment on a picture of Rosa’s kid sister to compare their cleavage and deciding Rosa’s was plumper – before clicking the tablet off and staring up at the dark ceiling, the cot they’d provided for him itchy and sagging and only adding to his restlessness.
Hawk rested his head on the back of his hand, the other resting on his stomach and making small circles in the fine hair as he let his thoughts drift. He thought not about the endless questions from the press, nor the camera flashes that had been permanently burned into his retinas, not even about his shitbox car that had quickly become the butt of the joke around the PTQ. His mind wasn’t on tomorrow either; the threat of vehicular manslaughter still looming, but somewhat duller in this quiet moment. Instead, he’d pivoted onto the best few minutes of his day: standing with Mei Sung and watching the brackets be revealed.
Hair like black ice, he thought, and she smelled like a spicy blend of herbs I could never identify. Her dark eyes stared up at him in his mind, the coy smirk playing on her dainty mouth. He saw her in her kevlar suit, pictured her out of it, remembered her draped over a filthy bed at the Crossroads with her skirt up past her hips and naught but the bright lights and dangers outside serenading their first meeting. His loins twitched in stilted annoyance.
I’m in the blue bracket, she’s in the red, Hawk thought. Caught up in her presence, worrying about the Scavenger team, he hadn’t considered the notion that they may have to face one another on the course until later on. Mixed feelings of concern and the thrill of Carnage warred inside him. But we won’t make it that far…
‘You go in with that attitude and you might not make it past the first round,’ Mei said in his mind. He grunted, annoyed that she was right.
We’re on opposite sides of the fence, he went on. Defeat or death… One way or another, right? Figures that he’d meet an amazing woman and then immediately be under the threat of death from her. He groaned, rolling onto his side and frowning into the darkness. Nothing for it now…
Or was there?
Sung Compound wasn’t far from the Dust Bowl, just a quick boot down the road really, and Hawk got it in his head that it might not be such a bad idea to crawl through a few windows to spend this restless night in the arms of someone whose company was a little sweeter than his own. His feet were over the side of the cot before he knew what he was doing.
Otis said the grounds are patrolled… Fans camped in the shantytown around the arena were kept out by a small force of guards, but most drivers were also kept in; some old rule about stopping those who had suddenly changed their minds. Once you were in Carnage, you were there until it was done. Only the Dynasty seemed immune to this rule, for no one from their organization would ever think of skipping out on a match. But he would need to keep his wits about him getting out, and getting back in. First things first though, he padded over to the door of his bunk room, one of four just off the main garage, and eased it open.
The garage beyond was a dark landscape of the twisted shapes that were their vehicles. Hawk’s gaze paused at the mound of snoring blankets that was Mass, the facilities not having a cot large enough for him and the big man opting to crash on the garage floor. He was sleeping soundly, dead to the world, and Hawk eased out of his room. He paused when he noticed a small thread of light coming from the room next to his, the one Otis had claimed, and moved closer. He stopped when he heard hushed voices inside.
“I can’t fucking breathe, Doc,” Otis grunted inside. “It’s like an elephant is sitting on my chest.”
“Hold on,” said a second voice, clipped and firm. “There we are.”
Otis let out a satisfied groan. “Damn that ketamine,” he said. “I used to call the boys nuts for getting mixed up with this stuff, but this is… Ahhh—” The relaxation was shattered as Otis broke into a violent coughing fit. Hawk blinked in shock, the sounds of wet spit-up coming from the room, then vomiting.
“Otis, are you sure about all this?” the doctor said. “I could lose my license for fudging your physical…”
Hawk frowned. Otis was sick?
“I’m sure, Doc. I gotta do this. My own terms and all that.” A lighter clicked inside the room and the doctor sighed.
“Your heart could give out at any time, Otis. Please, just let me leave instructions with the medics—.”
“No,” Otis barked. “I’ll pay you double not to do that. If they found out I’m driving in this condition, we’d be disqualified. Can’t do that to the boys.”
“Damn fool,” the doctor said, a bag snapping shut. “You know you can call me anytime you need, Otis. Day or night. And lay off the goddamned cigarettes!”
Hawk swore under his breath, diving behind a nearby trash bin as the door opened and the doctor stepped out, tall and wooden in a muted lab coat and toting a medical bag. His shoes snapped on the heated concrete as he left the garage, Otis’ light switching off and him giving a few gentle coughs before the garage fell silent again and Hawk felt safe enough to come out again.
Otis is sick, he thought, staring at the dark doorway. Sick enough to get us disqualified… He stopped himself as he reached Otis’ door, not realizing he had moved. His hand was inches from the knob and he let it fall away. There’s a reason he didn’t tell anyone, Hawk reasoned, frowning. His own terms… I can respect that. A man needed his privacy, his quieter moments, and Hawk didn’t need to barrel in with his usual brand of fucking everything up. He stared sadly at the door for a moment before turning away.
The digital clock on the kitchenette’s microwave read ten minutes past midnight. He could be back for breakfast with time to spare. He padded through the garage toward Sammy’s old dirt bike.
It turned out there was security but it was laughable. Most of the guards were gathered in the gatehouse as Hawk approached, rolling the bike through the crunching dust, the cool night air carrying the sound and forcing him to walk slowly. The gates were locked, the lights in the gatehouse giving way to smoke and booze-filled laughter. They’d gone soft, he realized. All of them likely assumed no one had need to break in, and that no one was stupid enough to try to break out. Hawk crept up to the gate, kickstanding the bike and moving with stealth toward the controls. He opened the box, the big green button waiting for him. He jammed it and was dashing back to his bike.
Sirens blared as Hawk kicked the bike into life, throwing up a spray of dirt as the guards stumbled over one another as they rushed out of the gatehouse, but he was already tearing under the rising steel doors before they’d known what hit them.
It would be hell getting back in, he knew that, but didn’t care as he veered off the road and into the dunes, beelining for Sung Compound.
Mei grinned at the headline, twiddling through the news and seeing just how many heads she and Hawk had turned. They had them at all angles and on the front of every tabloid. Hawk with his arms around her waist, caught in plain surprise. Mei’s faux flush, a few where she looked as though she was trying to hide her face in embarrassment, and one or two had even got the kiss Hawk had planted on her cheek. In that photo at least, her surprise was genuine.
He really is sweet, she thought, tracing Hawk’s miniature black-and-white face, chuckling at that ridiculous mohawk. She giggled, rubbing her thighs together and imagining locking her fingers into that wild green hair while he jostled her around again. Her hand slid down between her legs and a quick orgasm later Mei lay back against her soft sheets, scrolling through the tablet some more.
There was no chance of her sleeping tonight, not with the excitement of tomorrow looming. The first round they were playing against Hayao, and their supercharged cars might look sleek but they would have all kinds of tricks concealed. Hayao had a history of registering very few weapons and making use of their benefactor boons to win. And like the Dynasty, Hayao always received boons. She considered for a moment changing their roster and bringing in Dan, but pushed the thought from her mind.
If you can’t carry home the first round with ease, you’re not meant to be a driver. Besides, Dan was furious at her for her stunt with Hawk.
His tirade had blown out like a summer dust storm and taken about twice as long to do so. He had railed at her about dishonouring their family, about dishonouring Carnage itself. He spat and frothed, eyes bulging every time he saw the pictures of them, ears deaf to her explanations. That her little ploy worked had pissed Dan off even more. They had stolen some of the publicity from the Scavs and the Menace, more than one paper printing it as a forbidden romance already and adding extra spice to the PTQ.
And the boons had literally poured in.
Mei clicked on the Dynasty’s private page and tapped ‘BOONS’. It loaded for a second before spilling out the list of dozens of different firearms ranging from handguns to heavy artillery, body armours, grenades of different kinds, replacement vehicle parts, and synthesized fuel additives. Gifts to help them along from wealthy benefactors who had bet on the Dynasty to win. There would be more piling into the garage next round after they took out Hayao and the odds were adjusted, but they already had more than they could use. Dan had picked through it all before bed and thrown anything he deemed useless in the cache to be traded in for credits, which would in turn be siphoned through third parties and placed as large bets on their own team.
Light flooded in around Mei’s blackout curtains suddenly and she frowned. She was half out of bed when the sirens started whining. She gasped, whisking to the window and peeking out.
The yard spotlights were up, the searchlights beyond the walls flooding the dark dunes. Men scrambled on the walls, weapons to hand, and were running toward the outer gates and shouting. The crowd of them had shouldered their rifles, pointing down over the wall. An intruder then, or someone at the gates. Mei considered opening her window to better hear what the men were shouting but they abruptly opened fire, the pops of their rifles muted beyond the glass. A small explosion followed that made Mei flinch back as the alarms cut out, the lights flickering.
“What the fuck?” she muttered as the front gate to the compound opened to reveal a burning dirt bike, shot to hell by the Dynasty soldiers. Mei watched as they moved out in a careful V-formation to investigate, weapons at the ready. What she saw, and what they didn’t, was a slinking form slip through the gate in the shadows behind them, dashing along the inner wall. She squinted, then gasped when she caught a flash of acid green hair.
Hawk?
Someone called from the gate and a shot rang out, Hawk tumbling from the shadows and abandoning stealth as he booked it away from the soldiers. Mei was dashing out the door before she knew what she was doing.
The halls of the compound had sleepy faces sticking out of doors, servants and soldiers hurrying as the alarm kicked up again. No one paid Mei any mind as she cut through the library, heading down three flights and breaking into the gardens, the direction Hawk had been fleeing. The muted plants, most of them silk, lay still under the wandering flashlights of the guards. Mei slipped into the shrubbery, making as little noise as she could manage, and began searching.
“Hawk?” she hissed when there were no flashlights near. “Hawk, where are— Ah!”
A hand wrapped around her ankle and Mei looked down at the crooked smile of her midnight suitor. Her smile bloomed.
“I heard a shout,” someone said beyond the bushes, a flashlight dancing through the leaves. Mei gasped and dropped to Hawk’s side under the silken canopy, his hand clasping hers as they stilled themselves and waited for the soldiers to pass. Mei pressed her lips together hard, shutting her eyes and willing them away.
Don’t step in the bushes, don’t come in here, she thought. Don’t—
A scream rang through the blaring sirens and the flashlights pursuing them whipped about, boots pounding as the men ran toward the source of the noise. Mei recognized the set of pipes that had let off the bloodcurdling sound: Izzy. Mei grinned. She must’ve seen Hawk from her own window and like the good wingwoman she was she had given them a distraction.
“Come on,” Mei hissed, crawling back the way she had come with Hawk in tow.
Mei took a roundabout way back to her room, pausing at corners to peek around and avoid anyone on the lookout. By the time she shut her door behind them, the alarm had thankfully stopped and her ears rang with the silence as she turned to look around at Hawk.
“Hi!” she said, grinning wide.
“Hey,” he replied, dust-stained and shirtless beneath his riding vest. He tapped his hand on his pant leg, looking idly around the room for a moment before glancing back at Mei. “Uhh…”
Mei threw herself into his arms, pressing her mouth against his. His tongue was rough like a cats as it played with hers, his lips dry and cracked and tasting like desert sun. He lifted her, her legs wrapping around him as she tore at his vest. Their movements became desperate as he threw her onto the bed, tearing at buttons and zippers, freeing flesh from its wrappings and exploring with hands and mouths. She ran her hand through his surprisingly soft hair as he worked his lips down her midriff, gasping as he pecked at her nethers. He worked his expert tonguemanship again and she writhed, then after a few minutes she took a handful of hair and pulled his face back up toward hers. His knees knocked her legs open wide and he fell into her, groaning as she gasped, his girth stretching her. The pair of them began grunting and shifting together, Mei clawing ecstasy into his back.
“That was incredible,” Hawk said, falling back against Mei’s pillows after ravaging her for the fifth time. She was breathless, her dopey smile fixed, fluttering eyes barely able to bring him into proper focus. He propped up on one elbow, smirking down at her, sweat plastering his hair to his shoulder where it leaked green dye, staining his flesh. She giggled, flicking a sopping strand as he folded himself against her.
I will never say another mean word about the Scavs for as long as I live, she said, lacing her fingers through Hawk’s. She wanted to sleep for hours then wake up and do it all over again, wanting to live with this satisfying warmth forever. She sighed, snuggling in a bit closer.
“You’re beautiful,” Hawk whispered, tracing a finger up her side and raising goosebumps in its wake. He kissed her neck and sent a shiver through her. She rolled over to face him.
“So are you,” she said. “I’m really glad we met.”
“Me too.” He shifted, settling on his back and allowing Mei to rest her head on his chest. “Just wish it could last.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, with Carnage starting tomorrow…”
Mei lifted her head and cocked a brow at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s just that… What if…” Hawk paused, pressing his thin lips together and looking away from her. “What if you get hurt, or I do, or… I dunno, what if something worse happens?”
“That’s the nature of Carnage,” Mei replied with a stiff chuckle. His lips twisted, brow furrowing in uncertainty. “Hey… It’s okay.”
“Just figures that I would be on death row when I meet a dynamite gal.”
“A dynamite gal?” she laughed. “What are you, ninety?”
“I’m serious,” Hawk intoned. “I know we barely know one another, but that… spark. I haven’t ever felt it, not like I did last night.”
“Not even with Rosa?” Mei’s tone was playful, but her guts twisted with the bittersweet truth of it. Dude, we’re a couple Carnage drivers high on the adrenaline-fuelled nerves, was what she wanted to say. What the hell was he getting all mushy for?
“Okay, easy now,” Hawk chuckled. “She may be batshit crazy, but those legs…”
“Mmm, that’s what every girl wants to hear after fucking the brains out of a man,” Mei said, detaching and rolling onto her stomach, propped up on her elbows and drawing his eyes to her cleavage pushed together.
He laughed. “Oh, you fucked my brains out?”
“That would explain why I’m so much smarter.” She smiled sweetly. He grinned back, but it faltered at the edges after a moment.
“What is it?”
“Just… If you guys win against Hayao, and Rosa’s team wins against the Bugs…” He turned to face her fully, the intensity in his eyes catching her off-guard. “She’s vicious, Mei. All of the Scavs are, but Rosa especially. Just… Just be mindful around her, and watch your back.”
“Izzy’s got me,” Mei threw off, but his worry didn’t relent. “Hawk, I have been going to Carnage matches since before I can remember. I have been driving since I could reach the pedals, and training for this almost as long. I don’t need to watch out for some cheap Scavenger skank— No offense.”
“None taken.”
“So I appreciate your concern. But it’s Rosa who needs to watch out for me.”
Hawk let a low growl escape his chest as he gathered her to him again, Mei feeling how ready he was for the next round through the sheets. She hooked her leg around him, drawing herself on top of him, kissing him fiercely, and—
The morning bugle began to sound and Mei bolted up straight.
“Shit,” she said. “Shit!” She rolled off and tapped the screen of the tablet, the time showing 0600. “Motherfucking shit!”
“Oh damn, it’s morning,” Hawk said, looking at the dim dawn light seeping in around Mei’s curtains. He blinked, then the horror filled his face. “Oh damn. It’s morning.”
“Yeah, and you have to get the fuck out of here!” Mei said, scrambling off the bed and snatching up clothes. Hawk leapt up and began the same process.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said, shoving his legs into his pants. “Where’s my goddamn vest?”
“Leave it!” Mei said, shoving him toward the door. Dan would be up already, would be on his way here. She needed to get Hawk out. Through the kitchens? The library? She racked her brain, thinking about where no one would be when it hit her. The garage! “Let’s go.”
Mei opened the door, yelped, then slammed it in Dan’s surprised face. “One minute!” she called through the door as Dan gave a tentative knock. “Hide!” she hissed to Hawk. He slipped behind one of her curtains and Mei wrenched the door open, forcing a smile. “Dan! Good morning!”
“What the hell was that, Mei?” Dan said, taking a step into the room and meeting Mei head on as she pushed him back out. “What the— What is wrong with you?” He looked into her room, nostrils flaring, then frowned down at her with a suspicious look.
“Restless night,” she said quickly. “I’ve been looking at the Hayao roster and making a plan. I would uhh, would love your input on my notes…”
“Mei,” Dan said, angry colour rising up his neck and around his ears. “It smells like a Shanghai brothel in here.”
“And how do you know what a Shanghai brothel smells like, mister?”
Dan growled and pushed past her, shutting the door and planting his hands on his hips for a lecture. “Mei. We are in the PTQ now. Everyone is watching, as you well know! You cannot be sneaking your boy toys into your room during this thing, doing god knows what and spreading a further reputation after that stunt with the Scav yesterday. Oh god, it wasn’t him, was it? Tell me he wasn’t the damned intruder!”
“Pfft, no. As if I would stoop so low,” she replied, side-eyeing the shifting curtain where Hawk was hiding. She looked back to Dan, who was surveying her with obvious skepticism. “Dan. It wasn’t.”
His eyes narrowed and he turned more fully into the room. He kicked at the rumpled clothes on the ground, twitching her bed spread as though someone was concealed beneath, even scuffed a foot under the bed’s edge. He hmphed, turning toward the curtains.
“What are you doing? Let’s just go.”
“An intruder alarm last night,” Dan stated, “and Mei with a midnight suitor.” His hands grasped the curtains and her heart leapt into her throat as he threw them open.
Hawk’s uppercut took Dan on the chin, his head snapping back as he collapsed onto the rug, eyelids fluttering. Mei gawked, Hawk’s fist still clenched as they blinked down at the unconscious Dan. He turned his gaze up toward Mei and they simply stared at one another for a few heartbeats.
“That was the Phoenix,” Hawk said blankly.
“Well, don’t just stand there waiting for him to rise from the ashes!” Mei said, shoving him toward the door. “Go! Take the stairwell all the way down, go right past the boiler room and through the garage. There’s a back door that opens outside the compound.”
“My bike,” Hawk said. “They shot it to hell last night.”
“Key box on the wall just inside the door, any vehicle should have an opener to the rollup!” Mei said, shoving him out of the room. “Just go, you idiot!”
Hawk turned, arms suddenly around her waist, her heels coming off the floor as he lifted her into a kiss. It was a violent thing, full of their carnal lust from last night but like echo fading into the morning light. They broke apart and Mei stood dazed as he grinned, winked, and fled down the hallway. She leaned out the door, watching him disappear around the corner, his back covered in scratch marks and the muscles in his ass shifting in a pleasing way. She noticed a flash of lacy black in his back pocket as he slipped out of sight.
The sick bastard had stolen her panties.
Hawk thanked a god he didn’t believe in when he reached the garage unchallenged. He didn’t bother with the lights, throwing open the key box and rifling through the sets of silver. He grabbed the keys for whatever was in spot #26 and sped down the neat lines of vehicles in the dark garage, counting them off. He arrived at #26 and paused, looking at the huge Mack truck. A convoy vehicle, armour plated with the barrels of four heavy machine guns decorating the cab, complete with a spiked ram on the front with hydraulics to throw anything it caught out of its path.
“Bitchin’,” Hawk said, climbing into the cab. He had never been inside such a clean vehicle before.
The garage lights came on as Hawk fired the engine, the rattle of gunfire coming after a shout, bullets pinging off the Mack as he ground it out of the space. He turned, gunning the engine and howling as he hammered through the gears, failing to find an opener (whatever that was) as he headed for the rear rollup door. Metal, reinforced, and his only hope.
The Mack truck hit the door and hesitated before the stonework gave way and the door tore away from the wall with the rattling screech. Hawk cried out as he smashed over the ATVs of the guards who’d been waiting outside the door, watching them scramble in his rear view as he ground the truck into high gear and took off over the dunes.
Mei Sung, he thought as the compound slid out of sight over the sands. Until we meet again… Hopefully not to kill one another.
And now the moment we’ve all been waiting for… Ladies, gentlemen, and children of all ages, join us for ROUND ONE: Peacekeepers vs. Soviets!
Get ready for CARNAGE!!!