Major Karnage Read Free Page A

tell you about The
War. New Baghdad. 1-1-5-2-5. Urban warfare on a grand scale.
You ever been at ground zero while a whole city block is crumbling
around you? I have. I lost thirty men that day. Benneli. Kahr.
Mossberg. Weatherby. I’ll never forget their names. The only reason
any of us survived was we were holed up against a column in that
underground parking lot when it came down on top of us. I had
thirty thousand tons of steel and concrete pressing down on my
chest. You know what that’s like? You know how that feels? It feels
a lot like having your throat crushed.” The pressure increased on
Johnson’s throat. “Like that. Real slowly. Millimetre by millimetre.
The life slowly sucked outta your body. Every few minutes, you hear
a fresh snap—like that one. Your veins bulge out—just like that.
You want to breathe so bad, but you can’t. You know why? Cuz Uncle
Stanley’s gone and dropped seventy-five megatons of radioactive
shit on your head. And all you got is one pinky you can use to dig
you and your buddies out. You want to talk to me about The War?
I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT THE WAR!”
    A pair of taser barbs lodged into Karnage’s neck, and 40,000 volts
of electricity coursed through his body. He spasmed and gritted his
teeth. His fist refused to let go of Johnson’s neck. Johnson’s body
quivered and flailed from the charge. A second set of barbs lodged
into Karnage’s thigh. Another 40,000 volts joined the chorus of
the first. Karnage let out a yell as he fell to one knee. His grip on
Johnson’s throat loosened, and the other man fell to the ground,
gasping. Something wet and broken rattled in the back of his throat.
    Karnage looked up. Four nurses stood over him, each armed with
a taser. His mouth was full of the taste of blood. He grinned. “Is that
the best you got?”
    Two more sets of barbs shot out and caught Karnage in the chest
and bicep. Karnage laughed like the madman he was as 160,000
volts of electricity plunged his body into the peaceful depths of
unconsciousness.

CHAPTER TWO
    Karnage lay in a pit of darkness. A single shaft of pale light shone on
his head. He felt the familiar pull of the straitjacket on his arms and
crotch. He was back in the Hole. Home sweet home.
    The Hole had been specially constructed just for Karnage. The
walls were soft and yielding, yet slick and smooth enough to prevent
any kind of solid grip. The room was just wide enough to prevent
him from bracing himself against opposing walls and climbing up.
The height of the walls was somewhere around two or three stories.
They’d done their best to make it escape-proof.
    But Karnage knew better. Nothing was escape-proof. It was all a
matter of time. He’d escaped from worse places than this during—
    The War!
    Sand and heat and bullets and flames. Crumbling bombed out
buildings givin’ Uncle Stanley the perfect cover. Snipers snipin’ your
platoon, one wide-eyed recruit at a time. Blood flowin’ like cheap whiskey
at Happy Hour. Privates screamin’ for mothers and fathers, wives and
sisters and lovers and brothers. None of ’em listenin’. None of ’em there.
Nobody but your dying buddies and the bloodthirsty enemy hidin’ around
every corner. Death from above, below, and everywhere in between.
Tanks versus pistols. Choppers versus bayonets. Machine guns versus
fists. Everybody’s dying around you, but you keep your head down and you
do the job. Kill or be killed. Kill or be killed. Faster, soldier! Kill-kill-kill!
    Karnage slammed his head against his knee. The soft tones of his
Sanity Patch pinged their gentle warning in his ear.
    He couldn’t think about . . . it. No point in thinking about . . . that. Nothing but pain and hurt lay that way. His troopers were counting
on him. He had to be strong. Uncle Stanley wouldn’t get anything
out of—
    No. Uncle Stanley was done. Ancient history. It was over. They
had won . . . hadn’t they? They’d been given