Carnage! Love & Lust in the Wasteland
ROUND TWO (DYNASTY VS. SCAVENGERS)
Hoooooly, it has been one hell of a wait for the next installment of Carnage, eh? But we got here, and that is all that matters.
If you need a refresher on what happened last time, here is the first part of Round Two where our Peacekeeper team took on the Freaks.
If you’re brand spanking new to Carnage, here is where it all began. And where you should begin.
But without further adieu, let’s jump right back into the PTQ for the long awaited match up of the Dynasty vs. the Scavengers!
*DEMOLITION DERBY - ASPHALT - MODERATE HAZARD*
The words flashed across the jumbotron as Otis lit a smoke, the air in the private box uncomfortably fresh until he had done so. He’d pulled a few strings to find a little sanctuary to watch the Dynasty vs. Scavenger match, and despite the soundproofing the whole place shook with the unheard roar of thousands of drunk Carnage fans screaming for blood as the teams started their parades out onto the asphalt.
Carnage had been founded on two main events: the death race and the demolition derby. An honest to goodness smash ‘em up was rare in a PTQ, but the course was laid out perfectly for a classic derby. Derelict construction equipment stood resolute around the arena; excavators with no tracks that dripped hydraulic fluid and painted the pavement rainbow slick, dump trucks with their boxes full of tire fires letting off clouds of noxious smoke, a scattering of wheel loaders with no buckets but mounted with what Otis suspected might be hidden turrets, and a lone bulldozer in the center of what would inevitably become the central kill zone, its blade decorated with jagged spikes and the cab plated shut. Lots of room to get nasty, and the crowd was well oiled for it.
After the Peacekeeper/Freaks match, NexGen had seen fit to forgo prices at the liquor vendors for the afternoon and the liquid stupidity had crashed over the arena in a tipsy tsunami. The day’s mini events had only amped up the fervor of the people; kamikaze racers, android boxing, and an erotic acrobatic display from Cirque du Chrome as the sun went down had sent the people into a frenzy. Otis had the feeling that NexGen had something special in store for the Dynasty/Scavenger match— Had to, after the Juggarnautilus had nearly torn them all to pieces in the last match. Even sequestered away he could feel the potential violence from the Carnage fans poised on a razer’s edge. The whole place was a powder keg soaked in gasoline, just begging for someone to strike a match.
For the love of fuck, I hope Hawk and Mass aren’t out there in this, he thought, scanning the raving faces as though he might suddenly see them. Raised as Scavengers this sort of ruckus was in their blood, but this crowd would rip the two boys apart. All because of the little drama that Hawk has stirred up… The press had dug deep into the message that had been spray painted on Hawk’s roof in the previous match. It hadn’t been a hard thing to piece together either. In addition to his tabloid kiss with Mei Sung, security footage had also been leaked to the press of one Rosa Hawkins leaving the cell of her would-be son-in-law wearing something the step-mom in a porno movie might. The press had whipped the hole thing into a fucked up love triangle between Hawk, Rosa, and Mei Sung; each woman making vague yet visceral comments on the affair, promising one hell of a catfight forthcoming.
Otis had lost track of his boys after their own match, but kept telling himself that neither were stupid enough to stray from the infirmary. He hoped. Mass had a dislocated shoulder and some nasty burns, Hawk sporting severe whiplash and a suspected concussion. Though Otis doubted anything at all could truly get to his brain through that thick skull of his. They were young, they’d be fine. If they stayed out of the riled crowd.
Worry about yourself, old man. He rubbed at his ribs. Considering the hit he’d taken from that damned Judge, he was lucky that he’d gotten away with little more than a couple cracked ribs and a sprained wrist.
His truck had fared far worse. The front passenger-side fender was mangled, the axle end blown to shit and the frame slightly bent, but the mechanics assured him that he would ride again. Mostly owing to the parts donated from Mass’ totaled truck. The monster machine was currently being cannibalized to wrench their other two vehicles back together. Otis had all the faith the Menace would be put back in order, but the Shithawk… Something fell off Hawk’s cruiser every time they looked at the damned thing. But they weren’t out of luck yet. More boons had rolled in after their tussle with the Juggernautilus, more than he could have ever hoped for. One wealthy benefactor had sent an entire team of mechanics and specialists, which Otis had nearly wept on seeing, and any nonessential munitions were already out the back door. With full coffers, Julia was manning the shop while Roman hunted for a replacement vehicle for Mass. There would be paperwork to file on the replacement, fees to pay, but they would be sitting pretty for the final.
The final… It was unbelievable they had made it this far, but even he was starting to believe they could go the distance. It was all just a matter of who they would be facing. And Hawk had known just how to stir up the prospective whos.
As the Scavenger team ripped through their welcoming lap, the jumbotrons flashed snippets of their team, including an endless loop of each time Rosa or Sammy had taken their tits out. Footage from their first round match against the Firebugs; Rosa driving the Ranchero at top speeds and working the joystick to hammer heavy caliber rounds into an already flaming opponent, Sammy whipping the sandrail sideways and screaming blind fury as a submachine flashed in her hand, and Gregor’s spiked Baja cannonballing into the side of small sedan, the ridiculous spiked on his car punching through the door and impaling the driver. Drones swooped in to give a good view of each Scavenger as they rolled into position on the Asphalt, rumbling and dwarfed amongst the old construction equipment. They looked lethal as ever, patched up and ready for more Carnage. Rosa’s Ranchero lurched as she revved it, enough torque there to twist the chassis.
And here comes the Dynasty… The stadium vibrated as thousands of fans began to stomp their feet.
Mei Sung tore out first, pulling up her iron steed into a catwalk that sent the fans reeling. Fucking hell but that little bike was fast. Izzy Villalobos followed her out, drifting her compact hatchback in a spray of smoke and tar flecks. And then—
Otis’ smoke tumbled from his lips.
Dan fucking Sung roared out onto the track, the glossy black TransAm spitting fire from the ports on the edge of his phoenix-painted hood. The Phoenix bucked as he sped to catch his teammates and Otis fumbled for the audio controls, letting the voice of the announcer back into the box.
“—surprise substitution as Rufus Teague tags in the Phoenix himself! A savvy move from the Dynasty, or are they admitting the Scavengers are more formidable than they thought? Either way, the Phoenix is no doubt going to be the biggest target on the course tonight!”
“What the fuck?” Otis muttered, wondering what had happened to Teague. He hadn’t seemed to take much damage at all in the last match. Were the Dynasty so worried about the Scavengers?
The teams spread out at the ends of a fairly open playing field, the sticky black asphalt glistening under the stadium lights. Engines revved up as the starting drone swooped down with the twisted, ancient traffic light swinging wildly. Otis flicked off the PA again as the fanfare kicked up and flinched at a knock on the door behind him. He turned to see Teague poking his head in, grinning.
“Grange,” he said. “They said I could find you up here.”
“Teague,” Otis replied, wondering who exactly they was. He sized the other Peacekeeper up as he stepped inside. Teague was not a big man, but he was powerfully built. “Benched?”
“Yep. The Phoenix is having one hell of a tantrum about the Scavengers. Mind if I watch with you?”
Otis shrugged and lit another smoke as the younger man came to stand with him at the window. The match had already begun. Rosa raced toward the center, Gregor and Sammy cutting a wide path around the outermost construction equipment. The Dynasty maintained a formation, Mei Sung leading her team at the point. First contact was made as Rosa gained a line of fire, the heavy caliber gun in her box flashing as Mei Sung wove past her, a submachine in her fist peppering the side of the Ranchero. At the last second, she tossed the empty gun and lobbed a hand grenade into the box. The blast made Rosa swerve some, but the big gun rattled on through the smoke.
Teague whistled. “I’d pay to see a solo match against those two crazy bitches.”
“Might turn into one,” Otis grunted.
Sammy’s sandrail was hot on the tail of Izzy’s hatchback as the Dynasty broke, with the Phoenix fishtailing to come from the opposite way. When they passed by, the hood of the TransAm lit up and spewed a spray of molten slag at the sandrail. The drones swooped and Otis snorted as he saw Sammy Serrano’s hair burning, the dumb cunt screaming as she tried to beat out the flames, trying to hold herself steady with the other. He winced as the buggy caught a tire on the jutting frame of a passing loader. She flipped and was rolling in a ball of thick smoke as the Dynasty drivers broke free.
Izzy doubled back to regroup with the Phoenix, but the crowd’s cheers rattled the windows as Gregor’s spiked Baja bug flew out from the wings and smashed into the little hatchback at full speed. Izzy’s car lifted onto two tires, threatening to go over before crashing back down. Sparks flew; the tires on her driver’s side were shredded. Despite this, the hatch opened and a chattering machine gun sprayed a wide arc that Gregor’s bug narrowly avoided, the drones zooming in on the flabby Scavenger, howling with mad laughter.
The windows rattled again. Rosa and Mei were ripping donuts around the central bulldozer, neither quitting in their quest to annihilate the other. The bike chased the heavy Ranchero and Mei Sung hurled sprays of bullets from her handlebar guns, lobbing grenade after grenade at the Ranchero. The tailgate was shredded off and dragged behind Rosa, throwing sparks at the trailing Sung while the big .50 cal tried to bring her into line. But Mei Sung was keeping too tight of an angle, staying out of the line of fire while chewing Rosa’s ass off. The crowd roared its approval.
“She’s all fire, that one,” Teague commented. “I can see why your boy likes her.”
“My boy’s a fuckin’ idiot for getting mixed up with either of those nutcases,” Otis chuffed. He narrowed his eyes, something catching his attention beyond the show that Hawk’s two paramours were putting on. He flicked on the PA again, bringing in the sounds of the raving crowd and the idiot announcer.
“The Dynasty darling munching on the shapely rear of that Scavenger slag,” the announcer called. “Will Mei Sung’s speed win out? What can our beloved Rosa do to shake off her insufferable tail? Well, Carnage fans, let’s see if we can’t add a little more spice to this already potent mix! Back by popular demand: the Killdozer!”
“Oh fuck me,” Otis breathed. The bulldozer at the center chuffed to life, black smoke pouring out the exhaust pipe as the big diesel engine screamed. It rotated in place, tracks shredding the asphalt beneath it and the big blade swinging as the girls came around the bend. Rosa veered, her tailgate finally coming off as she dodged the swinging blade, but Mei Sung had been hugging the inside too closely and wobbled as she turned off suddenly, only just catching herself. One of the plates dropped and there was a hissing bang as the Killdozer fired on her, lobbing explosives. Sung must’ve shit herself when the first of the charges exploded mere feet from her, but she ripped through the smoke as the Killdozer trudged into the match, an armoured armoury ready to flatten anyone who got near it. Otis clicked off the PA again.
The Killdozer stirred everything up. Mei regrouped with the Phoenix and the limping hatchback, while Gregor bashed into Sammy to flip the charred sandrail back onto its tires, the pair circling behind Rosa and putting themselves behind the new threat. The Killdozer let off a couple more shots to scramble each team, the crowd going nuts.
“Maybe it’s good I sat this one out,” Teague chuckled. “You ever faced off against the Killdozer, Grange?”
“Once,” Otis said absently, focused on the match. He lit a fresh smoke off the butt of his old one. “Piston Springs, 20-some years ago. It was less… bulky, back then. Didn’t lob explosives either. Had sharpshooters inside that could circumcise you at a hundred-twenty clicks per hour though.”
The Killdozer let off a gout of smoke and its speed increased, throwing tarmac as it raised the blade and shoved over the loader that the Phoenix had darted behind. More whistling projectiles tore out from under the TransAm’s hood in a spray of curling smoke and the tiny rockets smashed against the dozer in a blast that left a passing Sammy blinded. She was quick enough to hit the brakes but bits of super heated metal flew off the heavy machinery.
“Are those explosives or incendiaries?” Otis asked. “Coming from the Phoenix.”
“More heat than anything else,” Teague said, readily offering up trade secrets. “Just for show, mostly. But they do make a good distraction.”
The crowd roiled in drunken bloodlust, on their feet cheering as Gregor’s bug tore back in and led the charge toward the Phoenix with Sammy burning rubber on his tail. Otis gasped as the Baja bug hammered a turn into the Killdozer. Scraps of metal flew as the pair collided, Gregor’s bug flying into the air, up and over the sandrail, and – in a miraculously well aimed attack – smashed down right into the hood of the Phoenix. The crowd went nuts as the rolling bug crushed in the Phoenix’s roof, spidering the TransAm’s windshield before tumbling over and off the back end as Dan Sung came to a screeching halt.
“Fucking hell,” Otis muttered. Maybe the Dynasty had been right in their assessments; the Scavengers were playing for keeps.
Izzy’s hatchback whipped around, dragging a line of sparks as it beelined for the mess, but Sammy got there first. The mounted guns lit up and tore into the Phoenix, some ricocheting off plates and cracked bulletproof glass while others plunged through the compromised hood with a vengeance. The jumbotrons flashed the drone footage of her face smeared with blood and soot, screaming bloody murder and playing chicken with herself, the sandrail smashing full speed into the side of the Phoenix. The front end folded like an accordion, while the TransAm’s drivers side bending around it.
The crowd lost it. The screens lit up. Sammy was out; the Phoenix was out. Gregor’s bug limped away, trailing fallen bits of jagged metal that had worked free of his wrecking ball move. Izzy wove out to follow him, barely able to keep pace with her shredded tires. The Killdozer held the center, rotating and trudging off to find its next victim. So much smoke and ash drifted over the field that Otis could barely see them as they cut between the patches.
Teague whistled low. “Dan is going to be pissed at being the first out.”
“If he’s still breathing,” Otis replied. He saw Sammy trying to pull herself free of the wreckage but there was no movement from inside the Phoenix yet.
“You think the Scavengers might take it?”
“Too early to tell, but it’s damn possible.” Otis lit yet another smoke, offering one to Teague as he did. The younger Peacekeeper declined with a shake of his head.
“Those things’ll kill you.”
“So I’ve heard,” Otis grunted. “Where the hell did Rosa and Mei get to?”
“There!” Teague said after a moment of searching.
The femme fatales had taken to the outer ring of the arena, well outside the Killdozer’s reach. Sung was back on Rosa’s tail, the little bike having lots of room to dance around now as the heavy gun in the battered box of the Ranchero continued to rattle. The drones swooped in and Otis saw Rosa with her teeth clenched to cracking, driving with her knees as stuffed ammo into the feed drum. She grabbed the wheel one-handed once she had reloaded and ripped the pins out of a pair of grenades that were haphazardly flung out the window at the pursuing Sung. Both impacted the asphalt with an unheard blast and shower of debris, but neither was any real danger to the Dynasty darling. Behind her blackened visor, there was no telling how Mei Sung was reacting, but she twisted the throttle and the bike edged forward.
A roar from the crowd rattled the soundproof windows and Otis looked around. Izzy’s hatchback had somehow caught up to Gregor’s Baja – or maybe he had spun around to come at her, Otis had missed it – but the jagged metal of his front fender was locked against the twisting rim of her shredded front wheel. The two damaged vehicles were not letting up, each pushing hard as they could and locked in a sort of spin while the Killdozer bore down on them.
“Oh they’re fucked,” Teague said. “Move, you idiots!”
“I don’t think they can separate,” Otis said, watching the jumbotron. Gregor seemed to be trying to reverse, eyes wide on the threatening dozer, but the wrecks were too twisted up.
Just a few more seconds and…
With a crunch that Otis swore he could feel vibrating through the stadium, both cars were rolled over as the Killdozer’s blade heaved them over like they were nothing. They slammed back down but the heavy equipment pushed on, sparks flying as the vehicles were torn across the pavement. They separated briefly, not that it helped much, as the wide blade continued to bully them along. The crowd was on its feet as two hatches swung down on the front of the armoured dozer, sprays of flame igniting the trapped, tumbling pair. With both wrecks aflame, the Killdozer lifted its blade slightly and slammed them into the side of a derelict dump truck; Izzy’s hatchback was impaled on a wheel spike that went in through her chassis to erupt back out the roof on the back end, while Gregor was sandwiched beneath the dump truck, the fire from his car spreading to the oil slick around the old construction equipment. Job done, the Killdozer reversed, gave them one last spray from its flamethrowers, and trudged away.
“Shit,” Otis muttered. “Looks like you’ll be driving in the final in place of Miss Villalobos.”
“No kidding,” Teague breathed, eyes wide. “Look!” A fire suppression system had activated in the hatchback and the glass was kicked out of the rear door, Izzy wedged in the bent window frame and trying to free herself.
“Probably safer to stay in the car,” Otis muttered, but his attention was moving back to Rosa and Mei. Last two standing and whoever wins their fight goes to the final…
Mei Sung’s crotch rocket was almost on Rosa’s ass now and Otis watched closely, wondering what her play was. She was able to duck under the swiveling cannon in the Ranchero’s box, so close she was. He blanched her bike bucked, a lurch of speed bringing her front tire off the ground as she closed.
“Shit!” Otis exclaimed. “She’s not going to… Is she?”
Mei’s front tire slammed down into the box of the shitty old Ranchero and she coaxed every bit of speed left in it to drive the rear wheel up before Rosa threw the truck sideways, trying to shake her off. She grabbed hold on the frame of the mounted gun, still firing uselessly and rattling Mei’s teeth with every popping round, and the Ranchero straightened. Somehow she and the bike were still aboard the Scavenger vehicle. She had made it; now it was do or die for both of them. She pulled her sidearm from the holster as Rosa ripped the rear window open, a .45 revolver in her fist. Mei dove forward and caught the gun, twisting it aside as it went off.
She and Rosa wrestled, the Scav letting off a slew of threats and curses that flipped between English and Spanish as they struggled. Mei smashed her helmet down on Rosa’s wrist, the gun clattering into the box, and Rosa swerved to avoid a passing excavator, making Mei fall back from the window. She regained her balance and dove, reaching into the cab of the truck and taking a fistful of Rosa’s hair. Screaming, she rammed the dirty bitch’s face into the steering wheel, the Ranchero’s horn sounding as Mei pulled back and did it again. Rosa released the wheel, both hands clawing at Mei’s grip. The Ranchero rocked wildly as the two women struggled, but Mei held fast.
“Get off me, you fucking cunt!” Rosa snarled.
“Eat! My! Ass!” Mei growled back, slamming her face into the steering wheel with each word. She tried to wrestle her gun up to end this, but it was trapped between her and the back of the cab. She didn’t want to let go, but they couldn’t do this forever. Mei cast around for a plan and her eyes lit up on the mostly empty box of grenades on the seat next to Rosa. She had expended her explosives, but there were a few gas grenades left nestled in the moldy straw. She would need to be quick.
Mei slammed Rosa into the wheel one final time, hard as she could, and the other woman went limp for a heartbeat. She released her and craned to grab one of the gas grenades. She’d thumbed out the pin as Rosa whirled, gnashing a mouthful of bloody teeth, one of them broken and jagged. Steering wheel forgotten, Rosa tried to grab hold of Mei and throttle her, ignorant of the danger she was in. Mei dropped the gas grenade on the seat and Rosa clued in, screaming as the cab of her vehicle began to fill with the tear gas. Mei scrambled back and threw the window shut, trapping Rosa in the thickening fog.
Mei could hear Rosa’s choking screams as the Ranchero whipped around, out of control in its blinded driver’s hand. She tried to brace herself, to get back to her bike, and was not fully expecting Rosa to slam on the brakes. Mei was launched into the back of the cab, whiplash cracking the glass as she struck, streamers of tear gas running out as stars danced in her eyes. She could still hear Rosa flailing around inside, the big gun swiveling wildly as she knocked into the controls, the roar of the crowd over the buzz in her ears…
But there was something else too. Pounding treads shook the ground beneath the car. Mei pulled herself up, guts lurching from the movement, and lightning shot through her veins. The Killdozer was thundering toward them, blade raised high.
“Fuck!” Adrenaline drove her shaking limbs and Mei leapt to her bike. She swore again as she realized it was tangled in gun mounts, twisting the handlebars to work it free.
“Bitch!” Rosa trying to crawl out the rear window, eyes swollen a vicious red, face battered, bloody spittle frothing from her mouth. She was reaching for the fallen revolver, but Mei couldn’t pay her any mind. Her tire came free and she heaved the front tire of the bike onto the edge of the Ranchero’s box. She climbed astride as Rosa grasped her gun, levelling it at Mei and then noticing the approaching Killdozer. The other woman screamed as Mei kicked her bike into life, clumsily driving it over the side of the box. She nearly pitched under the Killdozer’s tracks, wobbling to keep her balance, then gunned it before she could be flattened by the war machine.
Mei shot out from under the Killdozer’s blade, pulling up short and burning rubber to turn her bike around just in time to watch Rosa cowering onto the floor of her car, the heavy dozer blade coming down to cave in the Ranchero’s roof. Mei sat on her stationary bike, woozy and wavering, watching until the blade came to rest and the Killdozer’s engine chugged to a halt.
They had won… She had won… They were going to the finals.
The crowd was going absolutely insane, the screams vibrating the air around her, the drones swooping down and lighting up the screens with her image. She tried to raise a hand to wave and her guts lurched.
Mei vomited inside her helmet, pitched over, and the world fell silent.
“Well that’s that,” Otis said, exhaling sharply as the jumbotrons flashed images of Mei Sung and the paramedics moved in to scrape the drivers off the asphalt. His nerves were rattled and he lit his last smoke.
“Suppose that settles it,” Teague said at his side. Otis gave him a sideways glance, expecting an excited smirk that they would be facing off in the finals, but seeing the man looked somewhat crestfallen.
“Something wrong, Teague? You’re headed to the finals, kid. Buck up.”
“Yeah,” Teague sighed. “Part of me wishes I wasn’t though.”
Before he could ask what he meant, Teague yanked Otis around to face him, hammering his fist against Otis’ chest in three quick, powerful strikes. His knees gave way, the breath knocked from him, his head smashing against the window on his way down and making the world spin. He clawed weakly toward his coat as he felt the angina grip him, reaching for the pills, but Teague stepped on his hand to stop him. He knelt and took the pills from Otis’ pocket.
“It’s nothing personal, Menace,” Teague said, still unable to look at him. “Every man has his price, after all. After talking to your doctor, Sung offered me double the PTQ prize money to make sure you were out of the running. For good.”
“P-Pleeeeeeasssse…” Otis wheezed, His vision was stirring, doubled, dimming at the edges while his heart felt like it might pop, its shuddering skips sending shockwaves through him. “Not… Not like thisss… Teeeeague…”
“I’m sorry, Otis.”
Taking the bottle of pills, Teague retreated from the room.
That’s it for now… The second round comes to a close viscously, tragically.
And now we come to an Unexpected Intermission…
As always, thank you for reading!
For something completely different, check out my fantasy novel Synthetic Magic. Now available on Amazon.
enthralling