“Ho— ana, —one… there? —cop— Eidolon… sign… northeast. Boy and… headed… there. Recommend y— … same if… able. Nila o—.”
“I don’t copy, repeat,” Howard grunted.
Static.
Then what sounded like the same thing.
“It’s a repeating message,” Dayana said.
The third time it had repeated, but the first time they got some of it rather than static.
They were huddled around the tactical display in the tight confines of their shuttle’s CNC center.
CNC center? More like a walk-in closet. Sure, a large one, but barely enough space for half the team.
The rest crowded just outside the entrances.
Willy raised a hand from behind Adrian.
Even hunched over the black-furred hybrid was just as tall as the wizard.
“I think she’s saying that she and Boy are going to that signal. It’s one of those eidolon ones that go through anything. We’ve seen them a few times. A bunch during that battle they had with those things out of the Appalachians. Can’t be stopped by spells and Skills. At least not as far as we know. I mean, Ms. Teacher can, but she has to try… a little.”
Howard remembered what Cal had written in the report.
“They don’t give those out to just anyone. Strictly for extreme emergencies in critical situations. So, who’s sending it up when the eidolon and Death’s Dancer were just down there about to try the butcher?”
“He’s been communicating with his spec ops buddies on the slasher side,” Dayana said. “Marian?” she spoke into the shuttle’s comms. “Have you triangulated the sign’s location yet?”
“Just did. Sending it to your helmets now.”
The young pilot hadn’t had much to do while they hovered a few hundred meters over the river south of the battle zone. Active camo projected the live image of the sky above them on the underside of the hull. Of course, no system was perfect. Spells and Skills could and had defeated them in the past. It helped that people didn’t have their eyes up. To busy trying to kill each other on the ground.
Howard grunted thanks.
The map overlay showed a neighborhood built around a school.
Lights from torches and artificial sources dotted the otherwise dark area.
He zoomed in and found a few groups of armed people walking the streets, while more manned the guard towers and watched the walls.
“They are not reacting to the big, bright glowing pillar of light shooting out of that school compound. A powerful Skill or spell must be in effect if what the wet wizard says about the nature of the eidolon signal is accurate,” Twice Clever Fox said.
With her fox mask pushed up on her head she was a rather attractive woman.
The scars only added to it as far as he was concerned.
Sadly, one didn’t fraternize within the unit.
He had taken that seriously back in his soldiering days and saw no reason to change his ways.
“The eidolon and the skullmask weirdo obviously noticed it. Just like us,” Tabitha said.
Not ‘Dancessassin’ when not on mission.
Her creepy panther-like monster head hood was pushed back revealing another pretty face. Also scarred, but her real scars ran deeper. Healing the marks left by the slaver filth was an ongoing process. Might take her entire life despite all the best efforts of the boss and her therapist.
If ever anyone tried to argue that slavery wasn’t all evil to his face, Howard would slap the shit out of their mouth.
“A localized effect,” Dayana said. “We’ve been wondering how the Lindsay the clown was managing to murder people inside their homes without alerting the neighbors or the patrols. I’m thinking the domain theory is looking likely.”
“Yeah,” Willy raised his hand again. “It stops everything from getting in or out. Calls for help and our scans. That’s on top of all the other weird interference.”
“Alright, we’re going. This might be our best chance to take him out. Any objections?
“There is the butcher slasher somewhere in that partially ruined store. He is exposed. It is a question of taking the bao in hand over reaching for two with the possibility of ending up hungry,” Twice Clever Fox said.
“Butcher’s not going anywhere. If he tries to run he’ll have to fight the bands running around. They’ll all kill each other if we’re lucky,” Dayana said. “Besides, he’s a lair sort of guy. We can always get him later.”
That was good enough for him.
“Marian?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Drop targeting beacons on the building. Then take us to that signal.”
The Raynanaut might pick up the beacons or they might not.
If the former, then they could just drop ordinance on the butcher and call it a day.
If the latter, then it was like Dayana had said.
----------------------------------------
Symbiosis.
The demon inside of him was no parasite.
He benefited.
It benefited.
He gained power through sharing everything and an upgraded class.
It hid its full presence, which let it revel in bloodshed without drawing attention that led to destruction.
Together… they were immortal!
The passage of time held no meaning.
They could bring joy and laughter to children unto eternity.
Demonic Circus of Blood Revelry.
His domain overwrote reality, snapping into place over the school prey had thought to turn into a fortress to keep them safe.
It harkened to his most favorite place to visit back in his youth.
They could hear the happy music—
… a song of screams just beneath the notes from ghostly brass, percussion, strings and woodwind instruments. People crying and pleading for their parents, for an end to the pain.
They could smell roasted peanuts, cotton candy, popcorn and crackerjack—
… an iron tang wafted through the air along with the sour and pungent scents of old sweat and human waste.
They could see the riotous colors against the dark night. Flashing lights, fireworks—
… cutting claws and teeth snapping over a black void.
He stepped toward the school’s main build— the big top— on floppy red shoes.
A broken mirror stopped him for a moment.
He touched his nose.
The round red ball gave off a high-pitched squeak when he squeezed it.
He teased his wild mane of multi-colored hair, making sure it was properly pointed in all directions.
His costume billowed around his fat body, giving him the look of a colorful ball.
He pressed a hidden button in his collar. The plastic flower pinned to his chest squirted a bit of liquid on the mirror causing it to hiss and sizzle.
The door was locked and barred.
He knocked, blowing it wide open.
There he stood in silhouette, lined by the colorful lights behind him.
He removed his cap and bowed with a flourish.
Showmanship was important.
The armed men and women in the hall quailed behind their barricades.
He sniffed the air.
The demon did so love the scent of the terror running down their legs.
“Come one, come all! Children of all ages! Welcome to my circus!”
Nothing feared him more than children.
Fight or flight.
Most turned and ran deeper into the building. Some dropped their weapons.
A few stayed.
Skills to give them courage to resist his or plain willpower.
Bullets struck, then bounced off as though hitting rubber.
A fireball did better.
Singed, he pointed his cap at the charging fighters.
Doves emerged.
Not normal doves.
These had gaping, oozing wounds that stained their white feathers pink.
The light of insanity danced in their beady eyes as they tore the fighters’ faces into gory strips of meat with beaks and razor-sharp feathers.
Another blast of fire turned his doves into ash.
He giggled and launched himself forward in a waddling run that closed the gap quickly.
A woman with a sword slashed down, placing her blade in his path. Her Skill cut his rubber body, but he had thick layers of fat and muscle.
Steel cut into ribs.
The demon inside him flexed, halting the blade and pushing it out with a spray of dark crimson.
Demon blood was caustic even when diluted with his.
The woman cried out as the metal on her head ran down her face.
Still, she fought as what little remained, including the mage retreated down the hallway.
Crimson sprayed until the steel and the woman were a puddle in the melted crater that was once a tiled floor.
They had turned their backs to him.
Slasher’s Stride brought him within arm’s reach.
He ripped a man’s head off with demonic-empowered strength.
The mage turned. Her hands glowed.
Acid from his flower was burned by a sudden curtain of flame.
He reached through, taking the pain from the magic fire.
It dulled as the demon took over.
The curtain winked out.
He held the mage aloft with clawed fingers.
She spat one last bit of flame on his face before her eyes went dark.
He shook her off, letting his hand hit the floor.
The partial transformation had torn his colorful costume as his entire arm had grown into a twisted mass of pale muscle.
Their strongest couldn’t stop him.
What hope did the weaker parents have?
None.
They died cowering in terror in front of a classroom door.
He tore it open.
The deliciousness of true children couldn’t be compared to the rest.
He could almost taste the tears.
A giggle escaped his red lips.
“Hello children!”
He gave them a wide-eyed smile.
“Who wants to have fun?”
One pulled out a gun and emptied the magazine.
The bullets bounced off.
“Oh! Aren’t you a brave one? You didn’t close your eyes!” He glanced back to the doorway where blood pooled and flowed slowly into the classroom. “Much braver than your parents. Unless… hmm… maybe you kids can help Uncle Lindsay the Clown out? Raise your hands if mommy is— was good with a sword? No? She did seem a little young to have a little rug rat your ages. What about if mommy was a fire mage?”
They couldn’t look at him.
Aside from the brave little boy that had taken up a position in between him and the rest of the kids.
“I guess you’re all too scared to answer your funny uncle, huh? Except for you. What’s your name?”
The boy held the machete in two hands.
Looked like a full-sized sword.
The black-coated steel wavered.
“Brave, but not that brave, huh?” He giggled. “Tell you what? For being braver than most of your mommies and daddies out there, how about a trick? Would you like to see a trick?”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Tears welled up in the boys eyes, but he set his jaw.
“The trick is—”
He grabbed the boy with his demonic hand.
Its size made it seem too large and heavy to move quickly, but it struck like a snake.
The boy was swallowed up by the pale hand. Only his small head and feet remained visible.
“Popping your head off like a balloon!”
The kids screamed as they were showered with gore.
Some tried to run, but the other door had been barricaded while the windows had been boarded up.
Others cowered, huddling together behind piles of desks.
The sweet scent of their terror ran down their legs to the floor.
A little girl raised her hand with her eyes closed.
Tiny orbs of blue light seared the flesh on his jowly face.
“We have our next volunteer for the next trick!”
He grabbed her.
“How about a math trick?” He placed the tip of his clawed forefinger in her blond curls. “What do we get when we divide one by two?”
The girl shut her eyes tight, mumbling something about mommy.
The demon cackled in the back of his mind.
Slight pressure.
Flesh and bone parted with a waterfall of red and viscera.
“You get two halves!”
The kids didn’t appreciate his showmanship.
Sadly, for them, they were a captive audience.
They couldn’t get around him and his long demon arm could reach so far.
He did 10 tricks. Each one different, but with the same end result.
Over half the kids.
Each added to his leading point total.
That Holly Foster slasher was a fool.
Why would he accept her invitation when he could win just by doing what he had been since the beginning of the event?
Children were the future.
His future victory.
He was already Level 50, but gaining even just 1 level made it worth it since he hadn’t leveled in years. And that wasn’t counting all of the other rewards. Attribute points served him better than most because the demon’s empowerment exponentially scaled off his base attributes, not a flat increase.
Victory meant no child in the world was safe from him.
Perhaps it was time to consider making it so that no child on any world was safe?
There were alien children out there after all.
What sort of flavor did their terror hold?
He’d start with the invaders.
Something about bat people in the caves near Vegas, bull-like centaurs in one of those old 3rd world Asian countries and a handful of other rumors across the world filtered through the spires’ messaging system.
But first… the rest of the crying children.
He reached out for a little girl that had gone catatonic.
They did that often.
She had curled up in a ball, arms wrapped around her knees, head tucked as if to deny his existence.
“I’m sorry, little one. Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I don’t exist.” He stroked her dark hair with his white, fat-fingered glove. “So,” he said almost softly, “what trick do you want to see?”
The bright, many colored lights flashing from outside seemed to join him in touching her hair.
“Beautiful hair, so shiny and dark,” he murmured. “Just like my—”
Wood and glass exploded.
Something big and heavy crashed into his face, causing his red nose to squeak.
Blue eyes in a red, white and blue mask were wide as they bored into his.
They rolled across the classroom, scattering chairs and screaming kids.
Masonry and dust showered on his head and shoulders as the soldier slammed him into the wall near the door.
Short spears pierced his colorful costume and rubber-like flesh to draw dark blood that burned steel.
“Just the tip?”
He raised a bushy brow.
“I’ll give you more than that!”
He heard the venom in the skull-masked soldier’s voice despite it being muffled.
“Oh? You have a trick for me?” He giggled. “That doesn’t happen very often.”
The soldier pushed the spears past his ribs, raising him off the floor.
“Turn it off!” the soldier snarled.
“Awww… not enjoying the atmosphere? But it’s such a fun-filled time! Where children enjoy the treats and the shows! Where grown men can pretend they were back in those days!”
“I’ve been to a circus. This isn’t it, you murdering freak! Turn it off, now!”
“Or what? You’ll kill me? Your tips tickling my belly say you’re going to do that anyway. Tell me… what was your favorite part? The clowns? That was my favorite. Hmm… you don’t seem to like clowns—”
“Lindsay, shut the fuck up!”
“Was it the trapeze artists? The high wire acts? The dancing horses and elephants, lions, tiger and bears, oh my! Or… was it the human cannonball?”
The soldier’s eyes flicked to the right.
Lindsay giggled.
He always loved the sense of wonder in his guests eyes when they saw what he saw even if only in parts, as ethereal as a ghost flickering in and out of what they thought was reality.
Truth was that within his domain, he had a lot to say about that.
The huge cannon fired a helmeted man into the soldier, sending them crashing through the wall in a tangle of limbs, some real, some ghostly.
Giggles turned into laughter.
“See! Isn’t my circus so fun! Twists and turns galore! You never know what’s coming next! Right, children? Children?”
The ungrateful little snots were climbing out of the hole in the windows.
“Tsk, tsk! You might catch yourself on some glass or rusted metal. You don’t want to get tetanus, do you?” He reached his over-long demon hand.
Only for a streaking missile to strike him in the palm, smacking it away as the last child scampered out the window.
The soldier re-appeared.
Then promptly disappeared.
A spear tip pierced his cheek and bounced off his teeth.
He left his feet just as the air left his lungs from the blow to his solar plexus.
Hit the ceiling on the way up and the floor on the way down.
Heavy boots stomped the back of his head into the tile, cracking it, creating a little crater.
He giggled at the rapid-fire squeaks his round red nose made.
That sound never failed to make him smile.
The demon spoke in his head.
Not words, for it didn’t do words.
It imparted thoughts, impressions, images.
In time their symbiosis would progress and there would be no line dividing them.
They would be as one, yet still separate… at the same time.
Did it make sense?
No.
But, if religious people could claim that God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit were three in one, yet also separate, then he and the demon made even more sense.
He agreed with the demon.
The skull-masked soldier had allies.
Possibly, that eidolon.
They had seen the two of them together visiting neighborhoods.
To fight both and possibly others at the same time brought on greater risk and it wasn’t fun.
No, no, no.
A circus was supposed to be fun for everyone.
His demon arm bent in a way that should’ve been impossible from the look of its anatomy to smack the soldier through several walls.
He hopped to his feet like an acrobatic penguin.
“But first…”
There were children to impart the joys of the circus experience to.
“Oh no,” he giggled, “no one’s getting away from Uncle Lindsay!”
Slasher’s Stride took him out of the building.
“There you are! So fast, even though you have such tiny, pudgy legs! Your mommies and daddies are waiting for you! I’m going to send you to them!”
----------------------------------------
Too slow.
Death’s Dancer was too slow.
He could outrun cars, but the fat clown was through the hole in the window and out of reach despite moving at a waddle while dragging that over-sized monster arm.
The clown giggled as he called out to the kids running in a tight clump like ducklings being chased by a coyote.
“There’s no leaving the circus until you’ve had your fun!”
Death’s Dancer drew his grenade launcher from his bag of holding.
It thumped in his hand light as a feather.
The grenade bounced off the clown’s back and exploded in the air between them.
The kids screamed louder.
The clown laughed.
Reality shifted back and forth for Death’s Dancer.
They were in a field of wild green grass. A playground stood on his left. The parking lot was around the corner to his right.
They were in a circus. Neon lights flashed with fireworks in the dark sky. The smell of cooking oil wafted through the air. Muffled cheers from the crowd inside the big top tent reached him.
His place shifted back and forth from one to the other, sometimes both at the same time.
He aimed at the back of the clown’s floppy red shoes.
It seemed like a nightmare how much ground the fat fuck covered despite waddling.
Damn Skills!
The explosion rocked the clown, knocking him off his stride.
That oozing red nose squeaked as the clown hit the grass.
Death’s Dancer closed with a bounding leap.
“Flying elephant!” the clown giggled.
Death’s Dancer careened to one side, digging a furrow in the grass.
The impact had rattled his brain for a moment.
He had to blink.
An ethereal elephant flickered in and out of existence as it banked above him on ears like wings.
It trumpeted a battle cry as it lined up wicked-looking tusks.
He aimed—
Stinging pain pierced his chest and back through his armor.
The clown’s demon hand actually crushed the air from his lungs.
A lavender boulder crashed from on high, showering them both in dirt.
Alcaestus loomed.
“Unhand him.”
“Okay.”
Death’s Dancer went for a flight.
A tusk gored him in the gut.
Stronger pain than he had felt in awhile.
The ghostly flying elephant vanished.
He hit the ground.
It felt hot and wet underneath his undamaged armor.
He scrambled for a healing potion, tearing off his armor in the process.
There was a big red hole in the middle of his gut.
Torn guts slithered out like worms.
He pushed it all back in the front and back before splashing the eidolon-quality healing potion on his front.
All he could do was keep one hand over the hole in his back while waiting for the one in the front to close so he could repeat the process.
Couldn’t move.
Couldn’t fight.
Could only watch.
Al kicked the clown in the stomach, sending the fat monster rolling across the grass like a ball.
The clown popped back to his feet with a giggle.
“Oh! Welcome to my circus, giant man from another world!”
“This is a mockery.”
Al strode toward the clone with ground-eating strides.
“Oh? You have these on your world too?”
The eidolon reached.
The clown covered half the distance to the slow-running children in one stride.
Al leapt, landing in between.
The clown giggled.
“You can’t pull me to you without pulling them to you. You know circuses? Then you must know about the funhouse?” he cackled.
Al froze for some reason.
Death’s Dancer saw it a moment later.
A maze of mirrors and horrors had appeared over half the large field, shifting in and out of reality.
He realized with growing horror that the kids had also stopped running.
They clustered together, looking everywhere around them with wide eyes.
The clown did a dance, jiggling all over the place.
“Careful, careful, carefully! Break the mirrors and unleash the really fun stuff. Oh and don’t forget, you aren’t the only one inside having so much fun, fun, fun! Kids love the funhouse! Hear them shriek in joy! Hear them call for their mommies and daddies to share in the excitement! Watch your step! You never know when one of the rug rats might be underfoot!”
The clown lashed out.
Claws scored thin golden lines across Al’s face, adding to the rest of the partially-healed cuts crisscrossing his massive muscular body.
“Do you even know what you’ve done to yourself by accepting the demon pact?” Al swung blindly.
“Yes.” The clown quirked his fat head to the side. “Of course I do. It made me strong enough to bring laughter wherever I go!” He removed the cap that suddenly appeared on his wild tangle of multi-colored hair.
Bloody doves screamed out toward the eidolon.
Al clapped his hands together.
Thunder knocked the doves out of the air and turned the clown into a rolling ball once again.
The kids screamed louder.
Death’s Dancer rolled over to pour more potion on the hole in his back.
The funhouse maze wavered.
The clown giggled.
“Seesaw! We saw… you flying into the night!”
A huge seesaw flickered into reality.
Al stood on one end.
“Wh—”
The flying elephant re-appeared in a dive from on high.
It slammed into the huge board’s raised end.
“Bye bye! We hope you enjoyed the show! Please come back again next time!” The clown waved at the lavender boulder disappearing into the night. “Time to end tonight’s show!” He strode right up to the huddled kids.
“Lindsay! You insane fuck!” Death’s Dancer roared. The hole in his back wasn’t healing quickly enough. “I’m still here! Show’s not over! Everyone knows that kids are last!”
The clown appeared to mull it over as he loomed over the kids.
“No. No. No. That’s not right. It’s the opposite. Kid’s are first.”
He grabbed one.
A blond-haired boy.
Tear-filled eyes locked with Death’s Dancer.
“Don’t—”
The clown squeezed.
“Oops… did I do that?”
A flick of the demon hand tossed the boy’s pulped body next to Death’s Dancer.
He tried to stand.
The healing potion hadn’t finished its work. It felt like knives were dancing around inside him with every step.
“Lindsay, I’m going to gut you like a fish.”
“You mean like this?” The clown grabbed another kid and threw the remains.
Death’s Dancer ducked and broke into a sprint.
He hurled one spear, pinning the demon arm to the ground before it could grab another kid.
“Run, you stupid kids!”
They didn’t.
The mirrors flickering in and out of their reality showed them their deepest, darkest nightmares.
Flying knee. Stab. Punch. Kick.
Everything bounced off the clown’s fat.
The demon arm clubbed him into the ground, creating a crater.
“No. No. No.” The clown waved a grotesque finger.
Up close, Death’s Dancer noticed for the first time that the pale flesh wasn’t just shiny. It was slick with a clear liquid. Skinless. Exposed muscle.
“You are an adult. You will wait in line until all the kids have had their fun.” He raised his demon arm and—
Nothing.
It remained poised to descend on one of the kids.
He strained as if held in place by invisible ropes.
A woman in that fancy armor painted up in the gray tones of urban camo pattern held a knife stabbed into the grass a short distance away.
No.
That wasn’t right.
She had stabbed the shadow of clown’s demon arm.
Out of another shadow, a lithe form twirled around the clown like a ballerina, cutting his colorful costume and pale skin with the inky black ribbons of the hem of her hooded cloak.
The clown struck at her with his normal hand and hit nothing but air. Three feet off to her right.
A third woman appeared in a whirl of yet another dark cloak. Hands blurring, her fingers struck all over the clown. She leapt back, revealing the fox mask over her face.
“His Qi is wrong! Two in one and the other is… wrong. I confirm our speculation. Somehow, he is twinned with a demon.”
He could’ve have told her that.
Just look at his arm.
“You two, get the kids away from here. I’ll keep him pinned.” So said, the woman in the fancy armor stabbed another knife into the clown’s shadow.
Death’s Dancer knew who she was despite her dark faceplate.
Remember her and her team from the Slaver King’s tournament.
They had stupid codenames that belied their deadliness. Their subsequent battle in the king’s celebratory banquet where the odious man was killed had fully displayed that.
He hadn’t fought in that fight, having gone elsewhere in a failed attempt to secure the slave collar tech.
Sometimes, when he got introspective he marked that as one of his greatest failures as a human being.
He had followed orders rather than done what was right.
The other women grabbed the crying kids, two under each arm and ran away.
“Get your ass off the grass, Death’s Dancer. They’re not going to be able to take the kids out of this freak’s domain,” Shootystabby said.
“Figures.” He stood with a groan.
Death’s Dancer got in 5 stabs with his short spear before the clown broke free of the deadly woman’s Skill.