“No!” He barked. “Stay there! It’s a sniper!”
“You’re bleeding! I can’t leave you out there!”
“Yes you can! I won’t let that monkeyfucker take us both down. You stay where you are, Captain. Wait for your opportunity. Find a moment to strike!”
Sydney nodded, and disappeared behind the darkened hulk of the Sudsy tanker. Karnage suddenly felt light-headed and fell to his knees. Karnage looked at his shoulder. Blood welled from a jagged wound the size of a baseball. Thank god. It went right through. He clamped his hand over it, trying to stem the flow. Blood poured through his fingers. He squeezed harder, did his best to shut out the pain, and looked across the arena for signs of the sniper.
Walking across the torn landscape was a slim dark figure.
Karnage squinted, trying to make out the details through the desert haze. It was a man with a sharp military brace. Calm. Selfassured. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. Karnage thought he could make out a uniform of some kind.
An Uncle Stanley uniform! His heart thudded in his chest and the blood spurted from his shoulder at a quicker pace. It was an enemy officer all right, emerging from his nightmares, coming to finish him off once and for all! Karnage watched his Angel of Death approach, preparing himself for the end.
But as the stranger approached, Karnage saw that it wasn’t an Uncle Stanley officer at all. It was a man in a crisp black chauffeur’s uniform.
Even though it only took a few minutes, it felt like hours before the chauffeur closed the gap between them. Karnage couldn’t hear anything above the sound of his own breathing. He thought he heard some rustling behind him that might have been Sydney moving for cover, but it also might have just been the sound of his own blood spilling out his back. He felt relief again at the gaping wound in his shoulder. Thank god the bullet hadn’t played pinball with his internal organs. He might live through this yet.
His vision was slowly whiting out—his blood pressure was dropping fast. The pain began to ease. It felt like it was being pulled from his body with the blood that was passing through his fingers.
The chauffeur stopped a few feet in front of him. His fingers twitched with energy. He knelt down in front of Karnage, his face practically beaming. “Hello, you,” he said.
Karnage looked at the chauffeur’s gun. “Spragmos X-75?”
“It is.”
Karnage tried to focus on the Observation deck in the distance. “How far away were you when you took that shot?”
“Hundred and fifty metres, give or take.”
Karnage tried to nod. Pain exploded through his neck. Bad idea. Blood spurted through his fingers. He clamped his hand tighter on the wound. “Sloppy,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“I said sloppy.” Karnage tried to sit up, realized that was a mistake, and dropped to his side. “Your aim was off. You should have been able to hit me square in the chest from that distance.”
The chauffeur cocked his head, a bemused smile on his face. “That is just so you, isn’t it? Look at you. Still putting on a brave face, even now, when there’s no one here to see it. I’m not even sure it’s an act, to be honest. Not with your reputation. You must have been quite the sight to behold on the battlefield.”
“What do you know about any of that?”
“Oh, I know everything—absolutely everything—about you, Major. And may I say, it is an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“It is?”
“It is. Believe me, it is. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Patrick. That’s really all you need to know for now. Perhaps we can catch up later. Oh, I sincerely wish it hadn’t had to happen quite like this.”
“Like what?”
“Me nicking you like that from afar. It was a potshot, really. Not very sporting at all.”
“No,” Karnage muttered. “It wasn’t.”
“I would have loved to have settled this in a fair fight. To see how good you really are. Still, orders are orders, and I must carry them out as directed.”
“You’re not supposed to kill me?”
Patrick looked at him with genuine affection. “Now why would anyone want to do a silly thing like that? Look at you. You’re simply… brilliant.” Patrick stood and started to remove his gloves. “I’m going to take a look at that wound, now. Don’t want you bleeding out on me until I deliver you to my employer. You’re not planning to give me any trouble, are you?”
“No,” Karnage said.
“But I will,” came another voice.
Patrick looked up, and a ball of goober struck him in the chest, knocking him to the ground and instantly swelling up to cover his arms and head.
“Took you long enough to do something,” Karnage said.
“I had to wait until I had a clear shot.” Sydney holstered her goober pistol.
“I thought he was gonna talk me to death.”
“I kept waiting for him to kiss you and get it over with. He sounded like your biggest fan.”
“He had a helluva way of showing it.” Karnage winced as Sydney pressed on the wound.
“You’re lucky,” she said. “Looks like the bullet passed right through. Jesus, you’re bleeding pretty badly.”
“I know,” Karnage said. “I think I’m in big trouble here, Captain.”
“You’ll be all right,” Sydney said.
“Unless you’re a trained field medic,” Karnage said, “I’m in big trouble.”
“You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you.”
“It’s all right, Captain.” The last of Karnage’s vision washed away. He had to force his lips to form the words: “Promise me one thing. Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Koch. Stumpy. Find ’em. Save ’em. Stop the squidbugs.”
Sydney’s voice came from far away. “You won’t need me to do that, Major. You’ll be able to do that yourself.”
He tried to answer but his mouth wouldn’t form the words.
Karnage strained his ears as Sydney’s voice faded away. “Don’t give up on me yet, Major. I think I know someone who can…”
He passed out.
MK#7: LESSONS IN KARNAGE
CHAPTER ONE
Karnage dreamed of squiggly beasts and black-clad men with pistols for hands. The beasts lashed out with tentacles that sucked him down and wrapped him in their grip. The man in black stood behind the fray, at one moment wearing a chauffeur’s outfit, the next a charcoal grey medal-laden Uncle Stanley uniform. Always smiling, always the teeth flashing, telling him it’s his lucky day. Gloved fingers pointed at him, the end of the fingers open and hollow like a gun barrel. White hot muzzle flashes burst from the leatherclad digits. Squiggles shot out from the fingers, stabbing into his shoulder, poking and prodding, searching and burrowing, leaving a fiery trail of absolute agony in their wake.
The pain became more focused in his shoulder, and the squiggles finally pulled away, leaving him alone in the darkness.
Karnage opened his eyes. A silvery sphere floated above him. A giant lens sprouted from the ball, pointing down at his shoulder, as long metal tendrils quivered below the lens, poking at bandages. Karnage tried to scramble away, but he couldn’t move anything below his neck.
“Get the fuck away from me, you squiggly bastard!”
The lens swivelled up and looked at Karnage. Its inner aperture quickly irised shut and open again, as if it were blinking. A mechanical voice crackled over a speaker. “Sydney, it seems your comrade is awake.”
The sphere pulled up and away, and Sydney moved into Karnage’s field of vision.