Maximum Carnage Issue 18: Fear and Loathing by Justin Anderson With due respect to Hunter S. Thompson Thursday, April 25th, 2002. 8:41 AM. Arizona They were near the Nevada state border, out in the desert, when realization began to take hold. Cletus asked, "hey, just what're we doin' out here, anyway?" Jack fumbled with the radio, turning it down. "General wants us to check out a few suicides in Las Vegas. Not just the usual stuff, he says these are weird..." "Weird? HOW?" Cletus asked. "They'll fill us in when we get there. All he could tell me was that these were people with no reason to kill themselves. Most hadn't even gambled yet. He thinks they're murders of some kind. General thinks maybe someone's working the area over. He's not sure who, but he said we should be careful," Jack said. "I just hope you're ready to check into a hotel under an assumed name and an assortment of weaponry. Maybe it's nothing, but the General wanted us armed to the teeth. I think he's not telling us something." 10:13 AM, Las Vegas It had been a straight burn from their small Arizona farmhouse to the strip, checking into the luxurious MGM Grand hotel. They had checked in as brothers, seeking nothing more than gambling. It helped ensure they'd be treated well. Jack had left his coat in the car, no need to draw attention. Their tailor made, expensive suits helped them blend in, it let people know they had money. And they had money. Easily a hundred grand, all in cash. Government money they were to blow as they pleased. No one had questioned the car. Jack had explained it was to keep from drawing undue attention to such high rollers as himself and Cletus. Or, as they checked in, Robert and Arnold Zimmerman. And no one was going to dare look in their trunk. They had a suite to themselves. They were spending their money, all right. "Tom Jones is playing tonight. I think I'll check it out," Jack said, unpacking several light arms and hiding them away. "I don't know, I might hit the casinos. If anyone ever tells us why the hell we're here, anyway!" Cletus didn't like this. The money and room were all fine. He'd be content to blow every cent. But they were supposed to be here on a mission, and no one had even bothered to tell them WHAT their mission even was. A knock at the door. Jack eyed through the peephole. The door opened immediately. Henry Johnson, along with two others. They each wore the same black suit, same haircut. How anyone told them apart from each other was still a mystery. "We just finished checking out a fresh scene," Agent Johnson said. "Suicide note, wrists cut. It was addressed to his wife, but..." "Let me guess, no wife," Cletus uttered. "Right. We couldn't find anything unusual. No sign of a break-in, no sign anyone had been there." Jack loaded his Beretta, slipping it into the holster under his suit jacket. "Well, if we are dealing with a murderer, we have no motive, no method. In other words, we have nothing at all. So, better go out and see if anyone suspicious is wandering around the city." "And where do you suggest we START looking?" Cletus asked. "Where else," Jack replied, "but the heart of Las Vegas!" 10:21 AM "Hit me," Jack shouted. The dealer tossed him the final card. He had a ten, a five, and a three. He checked the final card. Another three. He collected the fresh stack of chips, walking away from the table. One game, and he was up several hundred dollars already. Cletus walked the aisles, eyeing the slots and dealer tables. Spotting anyone suspicious would be almost impossible. Even this early on a Thursday morning, the place was still packed. almost nothing but tourists. He took a seat at the bar. He'd have to come up with some sort of valid plan. They had been scanning the place for two minutes, and had already gotten nowhere extremely fast. And the goddamn NSA had found nothing useful at any of the crime scenes. Vegas police had found nothing, either. Several cases of suicide, each extremely odd. The ones that were not apparent suicides were even stranger- as if they had died trying to escape something. He was distracted as a young blonde nodded to him from a few seats away. He returned the gesture. Looking at his watch, he turned his attention back to her. She was gone. He scanned the area. She was nowhere to be found. Jack sat beside him at the bar. "Jack, I swear I just saw a woman who wasn't there..." he said. Jack replied, "we ain't here to stare at girls." "No, I mean... never mind. Find anything?" "Just a few hundred bucks. This is pointless, we ain't finding a thing here," he said. The bartender approached them. Jack thought, finally settling on a martini. "Why not," he said. Cletus still looked around, hoping to spot the mystery woman. Nothing. Maybe he had imagined it? Or maybe he had found something, after all. "It's still early. We might have to wait for the next crime scene," Cletus said. 8:54 PM Jack had left to see Tom Jones in concert. While he had never really heard Tom Jones before, he figured he was in Vegas, so why not? Cletus remained in his room. After all, had they been sent out here to gamble and binge on booze and music, or had they actually been sent out here to do a job? He wasn't sure anymore. "Look at this," a voice from behind shouted. "You really disappoint me, Cletus!" He spun. He couldn't believe it. Standing behind him, tendrils flailing, was Carnage. "I'm gonna cut you up GOOD!" He jumped back in time to dodge the swinging blade, each step just fast enough to avoid the creature. Leaping for the Beretta on the table, he rose and fired. The slugs hit the wall. Carnage was gone. In fact, he'd never even been there. Grabbing the phone, he demanded the front desk dial out. In seconds, the phone rang. Henry Johnson picked up the other end. "You guys need to get over here, now!" Cletus shouted. 9:07 PM "Looks like we have something here," Agent Johnson said as he inspected the bullet holes in the wall. "Good thing you had a silencer on that. you sure you saw Carnage?" "Yeah," Cletus replied. "Like he was in this room. Same thing with that girl in the bar making eyes at me..." Agent Johnson considered what he had so far. Two hallucinations. Not much, but it was better than what they'd had this morning. "Where's Jack?" he asked. "The Tom Jones show. Leave him be, we can't do much anything now." 10:44 PM Cletus remained in his room. It would do no good to go looking for anything. Besides, if whatever this was had come after him once, it might show up again. He reloaded his pistol, checking the silencer. He was face palmed as he turned around. Jack entered the room as Cletus hit the floor. He saw the intruder clearly- tall, dressed in a business suit, and a very pale, almost bluish skin. Drawing his Beretta, he gave chase as the intruder ran for the large sliding glass door to the balcony. He hovered in the air, over the edge. Jack fired, but hit nothing. He checked Cletus. Nothing serious, but his nose was bleeding. 'Great... probably not paying attention. Staring at girls, too, what am I gonna do...?" He drew the bottle of triazomine from his coat. 'Yeah, here we go.' Slipping a pill in Cletus's mouth, he forced it down, shouting, "swallow, swallow! Medicine!" He took another. "One for the doctor..." he said as he downed it. Cletus wiped the blood from his face as he came to. "Someone was on the room. I chased him out. Weird lookin', too. Light blue skin." "You saw him?" Cletus asked. "Yeah. He busted your nose." Jack grabbed the phone, ringing the front desk. He demanded his car be brought to the front. "We know who it is now. Let's go hunting!" 10:58 PM Jack stopped the car outside the city limits. Ditching the jacket, he pulled his bulletproof coat from the back, slipping it on. Another car pulled up beside them. Three NSA Agents joined him. Jack popped the trunk. "All right. We have plenty of firepower, few explosives, we should be prepared." The two loaded up on weaponry. "We think we know what we're after," Cletus said. "Some guy with very light skin. Jack said it was some sort of light blue. He can hover." Henry Johnson felt uneasy. Cletus picked up on it. "Spit it out." "All right. We weren't sure about it, but... some time ago, a private corporation was working on genetic mutation research. Two brothers volunteered. The experiments were a failure. They were driven insane, but became mutates in the process. They call themselves Terror and Disgust," he explained. "Terror because he can cause intense hallucinations in his victims, and Disgust has the ability to force his victims into a deep depression. We thought they were dead. They do this as a way to feed on the energy produced by the brain's electrical impulses. They're also homicidal." Jack loaded his shotgun. "Good, two of them. That's just GREAT! And they could be anywhere, right?" he asked. Agent Johnson replied, "not necessarily. They're reclusive. They hate excessive light. Vegas, at night, is perfect for them, but being near too many people at a time can be painful to them. They also can't hover for very long." "Well," Jack said, "they came after us once tonight. They might do it again. Let's get back to the strip, let them come to us!" Notes: Basically set in the Marvel Universe, I will be using a lot of my own continuity for this series, and generally focus on the main characters. Appearances by Marvel's universe will be special occurrences. Crossovers with characters/titles from other companies will be treated as "single universe", not as "2 universes crossing temporarily". I will also try to ignore major Marvel comic story arcs. Cletus Kasady, Carnage, and other Marvel characters are copyright Marvel Entertainment Group, Inc. Other characters are either my creation(copyright myself), or copyright their specific owners if non-Marvel licensed characters. Characters used without permission/not for profit. These are strictly fan stories. Permission to reprint extends to placing this text, unaltered, elsewhere online. It may not be altered, and especially NOT TO BE SOLD, unless Marvel wishes to license this series from me.
