Boulder, Colorado

Not far from Burton Canyon, which is home to Mount Charteris and the former home of the Thunderbolts. However, the two Thunderbolts who find themselves in a forested area adjacent to a small, isolated home were not with the team during their time in that base.

Cletus Kasady amused himself by scaling the trees, the alien symbiote covering him from head to toe. The usual color had shifted from red and black to match the color of the tree, blending him into the surroundings. His left hand had claw-like fingers that embedded into the trunk, despite the symbiote’s ability to cling to any surface. Carnage liked to cause some form of destruction whenever possible.

The symbiote over his right hand extended, forming into a long blade. Carnage watched his prey carefully, raised his right arm, and rammed the blade into the squirrel’s body, pinning it to the tree. The blade reformed into a hand and Carnage pulled the dead animal to his face, examining it as he twisted its head off.

He dropped from the trees and landed behind his teammate and field leader, the Abomination. “I’m bored,” said Carnage as his symbiote reverted to its natural color.

“Shut up,” said the Abomination. He held a massive hand to his amphibian-esque ear. “Didn’t copy, Lady Mastermind. Once more?”

“I’ve got visual on the target,” came the voice of Regan Wyngarde through the Abomination’s earpiece. “He’s still sitting in the little outdoor mall on Pearl Street, taking his sweet time with a big cup of coffee and bird-watching. Real birds, that is. Not women.”

“Copy. Stay on him, alert us when the quarry is on the move.”

“Hey Blonsky, why are we wastin’ time out here in this forest anyway instead of inside?” asked Carnage. “You checked it out, right? No one’s in there and there aren’t any defenses.”

“Yes, it’s easy. Too easy, in fact,” said the Abomination. “Our target is well-trained, using this place as nothing more than shelter from the elements. He has no sentimentality attached to it, he can leave at a moment’s notice. His paranoia would cause him to check the place before he goes inside and if he detects something out of the ordinary, he’ll simply depart.”

Blonsky looked over his shoulder. “I’d wager an irradiated amphibian-like being and a serial killer bonded to a shape-shifting alien organism would fit the description of ‘out of the ordinary,’ wouldn’t you?”

“Whatever.” Carnage snagged another squirrel scurrying along the ground. The Abomination watched him with disgust.

“How many of those have you killed so far?”

“Seven.” Carnage twisted the squirrel’s head, snapping its tiny neck. “Make it eight.”

The Abomination turned his attention back to the house and steered the conversation back to the mission. Jobs with Kasady had become derisively referred to as “walking the dog” among the Thunderbolts.

“We need him inside the house. Allowing him to get to open air gives him an easy chance for escape. A bit difficult to make someone an offer once they’re out of earshot.”

“Whatever.” Carnage raised his arm and a part of the symbiote shot out as a projectile blade, severing the head of another squirrel. “Nine.”

“Remember that you will take part in any hostilities,” said the Abomination. “Wyngarde and myself are simply here as observers and will only intervene should you require back-up.”

“Yeah, gotta test the new guy, huh?” Carnage outstretched his fingers repeatedly, each time the tips growing into claws. “Well, I’m one helluva test.”

“Yes…it’s him we want to test…” muttered the Abomination.

Pearl Street Mall

Regan Wyngarde sat nearby, dressed in street clothes and a pair of sunglasses. She held a book in her hands but paid no attention to it, sipping her coffee as she kept a careful eye on their target.

“Never realized he was so big,” she whispered, knowing the earpiece would pick up the transmission. “He’s got that whole rugged, woodsman quality about him. Kind of a turn-on, actually. But I think he’s hiding some pretty fancy tech under that flannel shirt of his.”

“We already know of his implant,” said the Abomination.

“There’s more to it than its primary function, I think,” said Lady Mastermind. “Some sort of telepath-foiling, psi-baffle function. I could get around it, but pretty sure he’d know that means there’s a psionic trying to tamper with it.”

“No psi-activity then, stick with visual.”

The tall, strong, blond man finished his coffee and let his binoculars hang from the strap around his neck. He stood and tossed out the paper cup. He walked over to a pick-up truck parked nearby and climbed into the driver’s side.

“Emil, he’s on the move. Just got into his truck.”

“Follow him, discretely.”

Regan saw a woman moving to a sedan. She quickly whipped up an illusion that made the woman think dropping the keys in Regan’s hand was putting them into the car’s ignition. The woman sat at one of the tables outside the coffee shop as Lady Mastermind drove off in her vehicle.

She still had the target’s truck in her sight. Regan did as the Abomination ordered, keeping a safe distance from him to avoid arousing suspicion. “I think he’s coming to you. He seems to be taking the route back to the house.”

“We’re ready for him. Park a quarter-mile from the house and make up the rest of the distance on foot. Only after Kasady has engaged are you to breach the quarry’s psi-defenses should we need to shut him down. Understood?”

“Let’s just hope he kills the dog first,” said Lady Mastermind.

Justin Hammer looked down at his watch, waiting impatiently. He was flanked on his left by the Sandman. On his right was Maria Vasquez, the latest to bear the name Tarantula. Without even looking at her, Hammer addressed the woman. “Are you sure you gave him the correct time?”

Tarantula held a tablet PC in her hands. She glanced down at it, checked the e-mail correspondence once more to be sure, and nodded. “He said he’d be here. I have faith in his materialism—if there’s money, he’ll show. Probably just being cautious.”

The Sandman leaned against the limo, glancing at the entrance to the underground parking garage. He heard a throat clear and looked at his employer. Hammer stared at him with disapproval and the Sandman stood upright.

“That car was just waxed. After we’re through here, you’re to get it redone—on your own dime.”

The Sandman nodded. A few moments later, they heard the rumbling of an engine. A car approached from an upper floor, coming down the ramp onto their level. A flashy convertible, high-priced, sped down the level and came to a complete stop just a few feet from where they stood.

“I can see he values discretion,” muttered Hammer. He approached the convertible with his underlings flanking him. “You’re late.”

The bounty hunter emerged from his car, dressed in jeans, leather vest, a bandana and dark sunglasses. He was just as big as his reputation implied, with chalk-white skin and tattoos on his muscled biceps and a lit cigar clutched between his teeth.

“I was just bein’ careful,” he said. “So you’re Justin Hammer, right?”

“Yes, and these are my associate—”

“Flint Marko, the Sandman,” said the bounty hunter, pointing at the man in the striped shirt. “Wouldn’t mind tradin’ war stories with a guy like you.” He looked at Tarantula. “Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

“I am called Tarantula,” she said.

“I’ll bet you are,” he said with a grin.

“Shall we get down to business…Random, is it?” asked Hammer.

“I understand we had pay-or-play agreement, so I get a check just for showing up here,” said Random.

“Customarily, I would pay that fee at the conclusion of the meeting.” Hammer motioned to the Sandman. “But as a show of good faith, and since you do come highly recommended, I’ll make an exception this time.”

The Sandman opened the limo’s trunk and pulled out a nice, new suitcase. He handed it to Random. The mutant bounty hunter shook it as if he were trying to determine how much was in it by the sound it made. He grinned. “Nah, just kidding.”

He set the case on the hood of his car and opened it, looking over the money. “No offense, but I been screwed over one time too many t’ take people’s word on this kinda thing.”

“I assure you, I have never reneged on a payment,” said Hammer, looking down his nose at the entire situation. “Then again, this kind of behavior is not unexpected among your kind.”

“Oh yeah?” Random peered over his shoulder. “An’ what kind would that be? Bounty hunters or mutants?”

Before Hammer could respond, Random just waved a dismissive hand. “Y’know what, fuck it. Long as you pay the fee, I couldn’t give less a shit ‘bout what you think of me.”

He closed the case and placed it in the passenger seat of his car. “Okay, it’s all there. What’s the job?”

Hammer snapped and the Sandman handed over a glossy photograph. Random studied it as he puffed on his cigar. The man in the photo was bald with a black goatee. One of his eyes was covered by a technological device, linked to a larger device on his back.

“His name—” began Hammer.

“Paul Norbert Ebersol, also known as the Fixer and, for a short time, Techno,” said Random. “Genius inventor who’s got a long history of working with Hydra and Mentallo. For the past few years, though, he’s been Baron Zemo’s right-hand man in the Thunderbolts.”

“Impressive.”

“Just ‘cause I ain’t some high society type doesn’t mean I don’t do my homework. Whaddaya want with Ebersol anyway?”

“I would like you to entice him into a private meeting about a fictitious job offer,” said Hammer.

“Fictitious, eh?” Random flicked ash from the cigar’s tip. “Assumin’ he shows, what do you want done if he refuses?”

“Kill him.”

“And if he says yes?”

A wide smile spread across Hammer’s face. “Kill him.”

Random nodded. “I think I get the picture. Not exactly the easiest job I’ve been asked for. Ol’ Mr. Fix is no slouch in the skills department an’ I doubt Zemo’d be thrilled at the guy who whacks his personal Geek Squad. Plus, let’s be real here, not like you’re the cash-poorest client I’ve come across.”

Random leaned against the convertible, puffing on the cigar. “Now, you may go in for these boardroom bullshit games, JH, but time is money for me an’ I got no patience for negotiatin’. So here’s the deal—you name a giant sum of money, I say yup, an’ then we see how good the Fix is when he ain’t sittin’ at a lab bench or hidin’ behind Zemo’s sword.”

Hammer’s smile was strained, but he kept it on. “Yes…why don’t we do that? Tarantula?”

Tarantula made some motions on her tablet and stepped forward, showing it to Random. When he saw all the zeros that followed the first number, he smiled broadly. “Oh yeah, that’s one giant sum o’ money, all right.”

Boulder

The pick-up truck came to a stop in the long, rocky driveway leading up to the barren house. The driver stepped out. As he walked towards the front door, he stopped. He was a highly-trained soldier before being transformed into a superhuman by Roxxon and he knew when something wasn’t right. He had the feeling that he was under scrutiny ever since the mall. The only reason he was here was to grab some personal items under the floorboards in the room.

He walked inside but before he could go down the hallway to the bedroom, an intruder entered through the sliding glass door, blocking his path. He was the size of a man, but covered in sort of red-black ooze-like substance, complete with sharp fangs and large, white eyes.

“Simon Maddicks.”

The voice came not from the creature before him, but one who entered from the same door Maddicks did and now stood behind him. Maddicks turned to see the large beast he recognized as a frequent sparring partner of the Hulk.

Maddicks flexed his arms, the wrist talons on his battle suit popping out from beneath his shirt, tearing the cuffs and snapping into place. He turned his attention first to the Abomination, firing both barrels at Blonsky’s legs, causing him to trip as he approached.

He didn’t wait for Blonsky to get up, instead right away turning to face Carnage. Maddicks activated the anti-gravity device implanted in his spine, flying straight into Carnage and propelling them both through the glass door.

Carnage’s claws went into a fury, slashing at Maddicks’ clothing, revealing the yellow bird emblem on the chest of his battle suit. But the strikes simply scraped against the surface of the suit.

The Killer Shrike blasted with his gauntlets, knocking Carnage off him. He tried to fly off, make a quick escape, but for some reason couldn’t. He could maneuver around easily enough, but trying to go above a certain height…it was a block of some sort on him.

It didn’t take long for Carnage to realize that he was in this fight alone. Yes, the Killer Shrike attacked Blonsky first, but just tripping up the giant lizard wouldn’t be enough to incapacitate him. In fact, Kasady could have sworn he just spotted both Blonsky and Wyngarde standing to the side, watching the fight.

He wasn’t surprised.

These Thunderbolts—so-called “villains”—were barely that. Not like Shriek, Doppelganger or Demogoblin. They had no stomach for the kind of wanton destruction Kasady lived for. They were all weak—couldn’t handle the mayhem and madness that the world deserved to be plunged into.

Whatever, Kasady didn’t need their help. He knew about their little taunts—“time to take Carnage for walkies, eh?” he overheard Bullseye laughingly say to Lady Mastermind before they left Castle Zemo. As if he took offense at being called an animal.

The rest of them, they all had reasons and motivations to justify the things they did. They weren’t really bad guys, just misunderstood. The ends justified the means, that was all. But Cletus Kasady never harbored any such delusions about himself. As a child, he murdered his grandmother and tortured his mother’s dog. When his mother tried to kill him, Kasady watched as his father beat her to death in his son’s defense. Kasady gave the bastard no defense at the trial. At the St. Estes Home For Boys, Kasady killed one of the administrators and a girl who rejected him before he burnt the entire orphanage to the ground.

Since he was five, Kasady knew he was an animal, a monster who couldn’t be called human. And he wore that distinction like a badge of honor. So let them have their little taunts, it would only be a matter of time…

Thinking about the sweet joy that senseless murder brought quickly drove Carnage into a bloodlust. The gloves were now figuratively off, and he would tear Maddicks apart limb from limb, fuck whatever Zemo and Blonsky would think about his actions.

But the Killer Shrike was no slouch himself. While Carnage outclassed him in terms of power, Maddicks had the edge in training. Carnage was little more than a kid with a very big gun—yes, it was powerful and yes, he could cause some damage with it. But he didn’t know how to wield it as effectively as Killer Shrike knew how to use his battle suit.

Killer Shrike avoided Carnage’s swipes with his symbiotic claws and tentacles. He then returned fire with the electric blasts from his gauntlets. Although not as useful against a symbiote as sound or fire, it still managed to cause some damage. Carnage was kept off-balance enough, preventing the serial killer from getting the upper hand.

“That’s enough,” came the Abomination’s booming voice.

The Killer Shrike hovered in the air as Carnage prepared to pounce. He moved closer to the Abomination, willing to hear what the man had to say. But Carnage wasn’t through.

He pounced on the Killer Shrike from behind. Maddicks grappled with Carnage, the alien-clad madman pinning him to the ground. Killer Shrike held Carnage’s clawed hand at bay as best he could, but the claws started to elongate, inching ever closer to his face.

Then, Carnage was off of Maddicks. The Abomination had a massive hand wrapped around Carnage’s throat. “I said that’s enough, Kasady.”

“FUCK YOU! I’M NOT DONE WITH HIM YET!” screamed Carnage.

Blonsky tightened his grip and Carnage quickly realized his struggle was futile. The Abomination was too powerful for Carnage to cause any real damage, especially at this moment. Blonsky narrowed his yellow eyes at his teammate.

“If you do not desist, we’ll see if that symbiote of yours can help you regrow a missing head.”

Carnage relented, but the Abomination still kept a firm grip on him. Both he and Lady Mastermind turned their attention to Maddicks. The Killer Shrike was already getting to his feet. “What’s this all about?”

“First, a point of clarification,” said the Abomination. “You attacked us. We were simply responding in kind.”

“Fair enough,” said the Killer Shrike. “So what do you want?”

“We come to you with an offer from Baron Zemo. As you’re no doubt aware, the Thunderbolts have gone through some changes as of late,” said the Abomination. “Our organization is quite powerful, yet we lack sufficient air support at this time. The Baron has hand-selected you to fill that void.”

“That hardly screams professionalism,” said the Killer Shrike, pointing an accusing finger at the writhing creature in the Abomination’s grasp.

“This is an anomaly,” said the Abomination as he slammed Carnage into the ground. He placed his foot on his back, pinning him there. “Kasady is simply a means to an end—a rabid dog we keep on a very short leash.”

“Rabid dogs should be put down,” said the Killer Shrike.

“The job pays well and comes with a high level of pedigree. At least do us the courtesy of speaking with the Baron before you dismiss the idea.”

“And if I’m still not interested?”

“You will be free to leave.”

Maddicks considered this for a moment and then nodded. “That sounds fair.”

“Thank you.” The Abomination turned to Lady Mastermind. “Contact the Castle. We’re ready for transport.”

Castle Zemo

You don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you?

Kasady sat naked in his room as he listened to the voice echoing in his head. No lights were on and his room was bare except for a mattress. Originally there was a bed frame, but he destroyed it. Living in squalor made him feel more at home.

“I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid,” said Kasady out loud. “Zemo’s changing the ranks. Not much room for a guy like me in an outfit like this. ‘Sides, I wasn’t too keen on it in the first place. Might be time to carve up these turkeys.”

The symbiote rose into a flat version of Carnage, facing Kasady. You have to bide your time. Wait for the right opportunity.

“Right opportunity is when I feel like it.”

No. There are too many on the team who could kill you if you took that path. Octavius was smart. He waited until there was something else going on that occupied the rest while he got away. You need an opportunity like that.

“I’m gettin’ impatient,” said Kasady.

Just means it’ll be all the more sweeter when you kill Zemo yourself.

Kasady grinned at that thought.

NEXT: Random Violence