<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/fd/CarnageBlades.jpg)</div><hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Name: </strong> Cletus Kasady<br/>  <strong>Title: </strong>Carnage<br/>  <strong>Affiliation: </strong>Apocalypse<br/>  <strong>Location: </strong>New York City<br/>  <strong>Tags: </strong>Open<br/></span></span><hr/><br/><em>"War, tear what shreds are left of New York to pieces. I want every superhuman uncovered. Topple the ruins; and when you're done with that stomp them for good measure. The mutants there are of a particularly unsavory type - they will never understand The Vision. They must be killed. I am certain I have chosen the right ...man for the job." <br/></em><br/>Apocalypse's directive echoed in Cletus' mind as he scraped a few more bits of himself off a brick wall and stared at them. The dig hit home as his body busily repaired itself. He'd still been separated from Red when the gas explosion painted half of Times Square with his guts and yet here he was, almost put back together again without a king's horse or man in sight. He should have been dead, mourned only by his symbiote. But he wasn't a man anymore.<br/><br/>He was a hero of The Vision. Better start acting like one.<br/><br/>There was a welcome symbiotic gurgle as the missing piece of his soul poured over the top of the broken wall behind him and liquid crimson rained down to make him whole once more.   He stood up, raised his arms to the churning, smoke-filled sky, and shot the world an impossible smile bristling with fangs. New York was his sandbox now and it was time to bury some shit good and deep.<br/><br/>Now where had Bitsy and his new gal pal skittered off to?<br/><br/>Carnage was already moving through the ruins of the city, leaping from height to height, racing over crushed vehicles, throwing out fans of razor tipped spikes at any flash of movement in the rubble. No time to play with his targets. Apocalypse's mutant troops were already filling the streets and converging on Stark Tower, quick to claim any unguarded tech that the Big A might find useful. Speaking of the devil, just as Cletus paused to decapitate a still-breathing cop in her gridlocked squad car the radio crackled and spewed out Tony Stark's voice.<br/><br/><em>... I have full confidence that if all of you answer the call, we shall prove ourselves once again able to defend our home. To ride out this storm of war - and to outlive this menace of tyranny and violence. We are the only resistance left. You are humanity’s hope, each and every single one of you. You are the heroes now....</em><br/><br/>If he'd had functional tear ducts, he would have misted up. Stark called him a hero. Well, sort of. He definitely called him a “storm of war” and that had a real nice ring to it. Cletus gazed thoughtfully over the bridge at the boroughs. Fires dotted the landscape, bright warm spots in the darkness. Those old-fashioned heroic types did love their homes. Where was it Bitsy went when he was pretending to be just another sack of meat? Auntie's house. Cletus absently dragged his tongue over the cop's bloody face before tossing the head away. Time for another little family reunion...<br/>