>> When All Your Friends Are Gone .... Who Is Left?

The whole structure of the hallway crimps abruptly inward, raining crystalline cubes of glitching glass that turn clear and perfect as they tink off my helmet. The huge, comical, arms constricting and breaking until the metal SCREAMS.

And only way out is down.

To duck. To crawl. To push Badger ahead of you, on a raft of tiny cubes.

"GO! GO!" I scream. "KAMI! DEMON! GET EM OUT!"

"Wait! WAIT! Spook! I can help!" He yells, flipping crude buttons and switches stuck all over his armour. A flicker of light interrupted by dozens of components shorting in a cascade of sparks that send him yelping.

"JUST GO! GO!" I roar. Rolling out of the mash of crushing steel. The clown ripping free the struts that held the ceiling. I leap ahead, spraying gemlike cubes from my feet as we skitter and stumble. Kami turning to fire as the building collapses around us.

More enemies, or illusions, sifting in the chaos. My eyes tracking-

Tile and glass skid beneath me, and I fall. My skull is slammed into concrete, with a crack that explodes my vision with glitches and static. With errors that garble off into gibberish as even my core systems fail.

Shutting down everything. My sight. My hearing. All of it.

Everything goes silent and inky.

My HUD is gone. The errors. Everything. My world shrinking to touch, and smell, and instinct.

All of which scream at me to move as something unseen, unheard, but yet expected crashes towards my back.

I roll to one side, and wind splashes across me. A hand the size of any two of us crashing directly into the spot where I lay. Dragging through cubes of silent glass as the arm retracts into the body.

An 'Implant Restarting' warning blips my empty vison, hope flaring as-

### batt ∫eTЪk SλЪtem SЪ ∫f Di∞gn▀Ъtic: [ERR▀ ∫r] ###

## CR∫TICλL SλS▀EM Fλ∫LURE

-it fails. And the darkness crawls back to eat me alive.

I snarl in the violent silence. Feeling my throat thrum as I roll again, banging into legs and arms that pull me upward. Demon, by the smell of him. Zipper too.

"GO!" I try to scream "GO!"

I hear nothing. Nothing at all.

But maybe they did.

Or maybe an attack by a demented, fever-dream, clown-monster is all the prompting anyone needs.

Either way, they drag me up - into a run.

One step. Two step. Stumble. My vision fluttering with warnings.

And then I feel that freaking psycho-circus monstrosity snag my entire head and torso between two gigantic, clown-glove, fingers. My legs thrashing air, in silence, as it hauls me directly out of their grip. Dragging me away, towards that unseen pit.

Screaming. Without words. Without voice.

Demon's clawed fingers hook onto my ankle. My blind eyes staring into nothing as the monstrous clown rips his feet from the floor. Dangling his massive weight from one of my legs.

Swinging him, and me, as it raises us up and up.

In the silent nothingness.

It could almost be a dream. I feel so utterly disconnected.

Until Demon's granite-strong fingers dig deep into mine, and I haul him up as fast as I can. His weight twisting me sideways as our claws slash endless tracks in squashy, but strong, material. My breath aching out in hisses and spurts as I try, and try, to wriggle myself free.

And not to think about the roar of air rushing through my fingers and toes.

Or what might be so very far beneath me.

My eyes reboot, at last, right in time to see the other hand hammer Demon clear off of me. A huge, sheer, cliff of pale glass replacing his horrified face. A cliff that stretches up, and up, and up, through the core of the tower.

A thousand balconies, stacked like a Badgery sandwich.

My guts recoil inside me, tight as can be, as The Clown's too-long arm stretches up. And up. And up. Teetering its way to an utterly impossible height.

The wrist turns, and I see my death before me. A dizzying pit built from layer upon layer of factories, offices, and drone-works. Too far to even think of grappling.

I would swing against the wall. And I would burst.

I scream like a child as the fingers slip around me. The distant floor a hard, red, wash of painted concrete. Of jagged machines. Broken gantries. And rebar-spiked rubble peaked by two curly, fat, clown shoes with big happy bells.

Princess steps between them. Grinning up at me. Waving.

And then she's suddenly beside me.

"No....." I plead. "No, no, no, no-!"

And every nightmare copy of Princess laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Ooopsie! Your flare is all covered up! Oh, isn't that a silly thing!" She trills - suddenly solid, and sparkly, once more. "Say! How long do those last? Just curious."

"Stop! Please! Please-"

"Ooooh! Silly old me! I forgot you're a teensie eeencie bit afraid of heights! Double oopsie!" She pats her own head. "What a Silly Little Girl I am!"

The world turns upside-down, and her hideously cutie-pie face turns with it.

"Princess. Stop. If you- I'll-" I plead, in a blood-eyed threat as the blood pours into my skull. The gigantic fingers pinching so hard my armour cracks and creaks. My lungs pressed tight to almost breathless nothingness.

The Fairy Princess taps her wand to her mouth, once, twice.

A vicious little smirk touching spitefully perfect little lips.

"You know." She says, in a very thoughtful tone. "If you're SUCH a scaredie-scardie, I'd be a Very Bad Girl if I just left you hanging about! Wouldn't I?"

"Nnnnn-"

"Oh what's that?" She brightens, suddenly. "You think I should tell Mr Tickles to put you down?"

"No-!!" I shriek.

But her wand is a burning comet that smashes into the clown's huge finger, causing it to spring away. My claws slashing out to grab it as the hand begins to loosen, one fat finger at a time. My own weight stealing my grip on the slick, claw-proof, fabric.

"Oh! Ooopsie!" Princess giggles.

And them I fall.

And fall.

Thoughts speed to panicked gibberish as the tunnel of windows blurs to hyperspace speed. The clown's horrible, cheery, face torn wide open beneath me. Its throat a tunnel of foam teeth and baby-toy tongue.

Which suddenly spikes with vicious, jutting, knives.

And hooks. And rusted blades. And spinning saws.

All whirling, and ripping, and rushing up to meet me. Ready to crush, and grind, and chew, and skewer me alive. Slipping me down, down, down its gullet.

Into an even worse fate.

I almost shut my eyes, but instinct grabs my mind with hideously sharp claws. Flipping my legs in mid-air as I tumble toward the plushie, jagged, mouth. Twisting my tail for balance as my splayed claws roar through the air.

My grapple hits the snaking arm beside me, and the micro-reel begins to SCREAM. The thread-thin wire swinging me right into the massive limb. Shoulder-armour crashing against a wall of articulated metal buried beneath thin, yet stretchy, fabric.

"Oh. This works too." Princess sighs in delight as I howl, and thrash, and dangle.

And then, somewhere above, fabric tears. Grapple falling slack, as I tumble again. Face first. The mouth ten metrics 'above' me. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six-

My second grapple punches directly into its great, happy, eyeball - and I land by punching a kick through the other. My body slapping, hard, against the squashy stuff of its face. Sliding down the side of its comical nose to dangle one hand, and head, directly into its evil mouth.

Which slams shut.

I contort in whiplash panic, jolting myself up and away - right as the steel jaw impacts the upper lip with a cute little squeak. And a shink of bladed 'teeth' sinking into hidden holsters.

"Ooooh! So close!" Princess sighs. But not in disgust or disappointment. Oh no.

In glee. Because she doesn't want the game to stop.

I take a long, shaken, breath. Shoving myself back up the monstrous face. "I. Will. KILL-!!" I hiss. But how? I've only got two paralysis grenades, and I wouldn't bloody trust my implant to trigger em. I need-

My hands stop. What if?

But dare I let go?

Quick as I can I shift the flare to my back, shut my eyes, and plunge a hand into the satchel stuck to my leg. Rummaging until- "YES!" A lump of Badger's nastiest, grossest, most unidentifiable plastique melting itself into the seams. A wad of pure explosives salvaged from his grubby pockets.

I claw it out, wad it, and slap it into the hole in the thing's eye. Grabbing at my webbing to find-

"Whatcha doin'?" The Fairy breathes, right by my ear. "Cans I hewlp?"

I throw myself to one side, and a massive fist impact the thing's face. A second hammering in, close behind, as I skitter up onto its head. The ground still four entire floors beneath me.

Enough to splatter your head like salsa.

"Oooh! Don't ooo want me to hwelp?" Princess adds, as if she hadn't just tried to kill me. "Maybe I just gotta hwelp harder!"

"SHIT!" I leap into the air as another hand thunders its plastic skull. Skidding me down, and down, until I can hook in all four sets of razor claws. But Playthings are ever so soft. And warm. And cuddly. And full of knives that ram up through hidden slits to stab holes right though my armour.

Punching the air out of my lungs, and ripping free a hand.

Blood, hot and sticky, filling my suit as another slams my arm, shaking my grip. Another aimed at my leg. Another right past my eye, stabbing a burning notch in my right ear. My claws carving tracks as I force myself up and away. Almost losing a hand in the process.

It hits my chest again, and I gotta arch my entire body to keep from dying.

It still isn't enough. Not with the massive, pillowy, hand swinging down upon me. Roaring with a Hellish, whistling, weight that sings of broken spines and snapping skulls. Even as the weight of my body threatens to peel me right off the clown.

To kill me by falling. Just how Princess planned.

Or simply squash and impale me on blades that tear through my spine.

But I haven't been idle. I haven't been slow.

My bloodied hand snaps free of my webbing, clutching a silvery metal stick.

A detonator.

I synch it to my gauntlet, and reel myself back to the eyes on my tether. Dodging an ever-more panicked Princess, who blanks out my world with dancing pixies.

Too late.

I shut my eyes, and punch my fist into the hole. Leaping back to swing loose on my tether. I land hard, shoulder first, on its massive hip. "It ain't that high up. It ain't that high-"

"Oooh! Watch out!" Princess jeers with laughter, and I kick off again. The flesh of the thigh sprouting bullet-fast spears of steel behind me. The machine-filled floor a whirling blur. My frantic thumb slapping the quick-release, right as the Plaything tries to intercept my line.

I tumble.

My guts flailing harder than my arms.

Landing, half a breath later, with a SMACK on top of a cable-choked machine of unknowable function. Every gasp stabbing ragged blades into my belly.

Wounds aren't deep, but not fun.

And when the adrenaline dips out, it's gonna really hurt.

But this isn't done. Not yet.

My head snaps around, then up. And up. And up again as the gargantuan, spike-encrusted, head of Mister Tickles ratchets toward me with a thunk-a-thunk-a-thunk.

Like the main turret of a tank from a long-ago war.

Its smile..... is very sweet.

And very big.

One eye kicked inward, unto darkness and void. The other staring at me with a glowing love and tenderness it chills my heart.

"HUR HUR HUR!" It screams in the tortured, pre-recorded, voice of a dying machine. "HUR HUR HUR!"

I take a single, shaken, step back. The tough skin of my heel slipping over the cool, curved, edge of the machine as it leans its entire multi-story body down at me. Every movement mechanistic, and wrong.

Like a gantry crane in terrible motion.

"Think ya can take me? Plaything?" I whisper as the head jerks to one side, in a thunderous tilt. A titan of old considering a mortal.

"HUR HUR HUR!" It rails again. "TICKLE TICKLE!!!"

I grin. "As you bloody wish."

I step backwards, off the machine, and drop. One finger stabbing a button of my wrist.

For an instant, silence.

And then its entire Goddamned head explodes like powder-white piñata. Showering me and my cover with fire, and cogs, and actual freaking sweets. A rainbow hail of colourfully metallic little twist, gleaming in flickers as they rattle off the machines.

I breathe out. I lean back, picking one from my shoulder.

Hard toffees.

I bloody hate hard toffees. They stick all up in my fangs.

Also, they're probably poisoned. So there's that.

Slowly, I slide my head up. Mister Tickles stuck, and rigid, above. Its head exploded. Its one arm poised high above, as if caught in the act of snaking toward me.

"KAMI!!!" I scream. "I'M CLEAR!! HIT IT AGAIN!!! IT'S BLOODY PRETENDIN'!"

Nothing. Nothing at all.

"KAMI!!!"

Princess shimmers into being, reclining on a pristine white fairytale cloud. "Ho, hum."

"Piss off!" I snarl, as my belly jabs pain at me. Ripping the flare off my back to ward her away.

"Oh, sure thing. No problem." The faint Fairy rolls in her cloud, tracing the wicked little smile on her lips with a finger. "I suppose I shant warn you then. Toodles."

And she's gone.

"Warn-!? What?" I jolt, slightly. Eyes flickering up to the still, and silent, mass of Mister Tickles. "KAMI! WHERE ARE YOU??? KILL THE BLOODY THING!!!"

I look around.

I look up.

I stare at the burst-open hole in the side of the balcony.

"Kami?" I whisper.

"Hur hur hur." Replies the headless corpse of Mister Tickles.

>>><<<