Seventeen Clowns had walked these streets just eight days ago. After those brutal eight days, just four remained.
The town’s Doctor, Patch Adams, stared at the other three through a mask of heavy face paint which disguised his true identity - the others only knew him as Guak. It was evident even through that that he had not had enough sleep - huge black bags were just about visible below his eyes - but he was feeling wide awake, spurred on by the adrenaline of the previous night. What an eventful night it had been.
Almost every night, the Doctor had made his rounds before going to bed. The town was large and the number of people small, so he’d only had time to check on one person each night - perhaps he could have managed three or four by not sleeping, but he was well aware of the importance of his own survival and needed to be alert and ready for the next day. He’d already just about managed to save himself after a botched assassination attempt from the Mafia, having decided to keep his equipment close to hand before turning in for the night, and he wasn’t about to let their second attempt be successful because he wasn’t with it enough to patch himself up.
The previous night had been the exception. He’d made his round, this time going to the Eastern sector of the town, where just one clown now lived - the one they all knew as SpiritoftheRadio. He’d heard the shout just as he rounded the corner onto the street, and starting running before his brain caught up with his body. At that point, it was already too late - he was in the middle of the road, completely unarmed, and if the assassin walked out of that house he was in clear view.
It was extremely good luck on his part, then, that the assassin had not entered via the front door, and had no intention of leaving through it. As the Doctor thundered down the streets, the Mafia member slipped out the back of the house and disappeared into the night, both of them missing one another completely.
Adams reached the house and launched himself at the door, taking it off its hinges in the impact and bursting through into the hallway beyond, his arm taking the full force of the blow. Any other person would have knocked first, perhaps, but the Doctor recognised the shout as being someone in pain, and there was only one reason why someone would be in pain in this town. He knew that knocking would take precious seconds, and those seconds could be the difference between life and death.
Ignoring the pain shooting through his arm, he called out.
“Spirit! Spirit, where are you?”
A short groan came from upstairs, but that was all that was needed. Adams sprinted up the stairs (insofar as he could with his ridiculously oversized shoes - he may have been a Doctor, but he was also still a Clown, and a Clown would never go out without a costume) and slammed open the first door he came to. A small ‘ouch’ came from behind it as it hit Spirit’s foot, shortly before he passed out.
It was a not a sight you’d want to see. The assailant had used a retractable dagger, one of those seen in stage performances, but had sharpened it to a point and jammed it so it effectively worked as if it were the real thing. There were two deep wounds - one in which the dagger remained, but the most horrifying was the other. It was at the center of Spirit’s water-spraying flower, which had been jammed to constantly squirt, carrying much of the seeping blood with it. Undeterred, the Doctor started to work.
And so, here he was, and thanks to his heroism, Spirit stood beside him, weak but determined to bring the final perpetrator to justice. Uclabb, opposite, had initially attempted to conceal his identity, but had early on revealed his true identity as the town’s mysterious driver, Sweet Tooth. Which left only one suspect.
Which was why they were here. Between the Doctor and Uclabb stood Oztra, glancing from side to side and looking for a way out of the narrow alley they were all in.
“I don’t suppose
You would like to reconsider
And lynch Spirit?”
Oztra’s inability to count syllables was not helping his case.
The scene was oddly terrifying. The frozen smiles on faces that were clearly not smiling, slowly closing in on the trapped clown, all understanding, finally, that once they’d done this deed all this would be over.
“Please, my good friends
I’ll change my horrible ways
Just please let me live”
No amount of pleading was going to change the events that would come. Staying admirably true to form, though, he kept up his not-quite-haikus to the very end.
“Please no, please no
Spare m-AAAAGGGGGGG OW NO
PLEASE ARGH ARghhh...”
The lights went out for Oztra. The three remaining Clowns stayed silent for a while, breathing in relief that it was all over. It was Uclabb who eventually broke it.
“So… What now? We can all leave, of course. Are you both going back to circuses?”
Guak shook his head. “After this week, I don’t think I can bear to see another clown in my life. If this has proved anything it’s that my true skill lies in being a Doctor.”
“Understandable.” Uclabb turned to Spirit. “And you?”
“I’m going with Guak. I won’t be happy until I’ve helped someone in the way he helped me.”
“I’ll give you both a lift, then. It’s time to get out of this town.”
Guak and Spirit nodded in agreement.
“My car’s parked round the corner, I’ll be right there.”
It’s quite the cliche that you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. With Clowns, though, it’s close to true - all Clowns are fighting madness within, and all succumb in time. Guak and Spirit were taking the easy way out. Uclabb was not planning to part with the profession that had been part of his life for 30 years over a few murders, but looking down at Oztra, he did wonder whether he might end up like that too, some day.
He snapped out of it almost instantly. His trick to pushing back the madness was to try to keep it out of your mind, shove reality out of the way and let comedy take over. He just had to make this situation funny in some way, quickly. He said the first thing that came to mind.
“Zinger.”
And then he walked off, leaving Oztra lying in the alley.
An observer might notice that Uclabb’s way of avoiding madness, pushing reality aside and turning a murder into comedy, was probably not what a therapist would recommend. Indeed, there was more than a glint of the madness shining through his eyes as he walked away. However, today, he’d helped save two friends and bring murderers to justice - and that’s good enough for the time being, wouldn’t you say?
**********************************************
The Captain hurried through the corridor, a stack of papers in his hands. He called out as he arrived at the Control Room.
“Sir, Town 30 has concluded. Three survivors.”
The figure in the chair turned. The room was carefully designed to cast a shadow over him, which gave the impression of concealing his identity, even though the Captain knew it full well.
“Good. How many Saved?”
The Captain glanced at his notes.
“Two, sir. Both aiming to enter the medical profession, by the look of it.”
The figure nodded, apparently satisfied.
“Better than usual, then. And the last?”
“Stubborn as a mule, sir. Just getting more deranged, but sticking to the Clowning. I don’t think he can be Saved.”
The figure nodded once more.
“Fine. What’s the next Town to start?”
Another glance at the notes from the Captain.
“34, sir.”
“Gas the car, drop the two off at the nearest hospital, and throw the last one back into 34. If he survives another cycle, he’ll likely be correctly conditioned to be thrown in another as a Serial Killer.”
“On it, sir.”
The Captain hurried away. The chair rotated back to its standard position, back to overlooking the entire operation - the twenty ‘town’ areas were all visible from up here. In #8, Town 32 were clearly visible in the town square, surrounding a Clown in a way that made it clear he was not long for this world.
Nobody saw the smile on Vash’s face, partially because of the shadow over the chair, but mostly because he was alone in the room. Perhaps, he thought to himself, this wasn’t the most efficient way to dispose of Clowns, but it was certainly the most satisfying.
**********************************************
If anyone had been in the alley at the very end, they would have heard the slightest sound just before Oztra’s body finally gave up the ghost.
“No… Pat…”
**********************************************
OZTRA has died! He was THE JOKER, the MAFIA ENCRYPTOR!
GAME HAS ENDED. Town has defeated the Mafia and the Serial Killer and emerges victorious!
)
Ankara Crescent
)
)
)