Brat Out Of Hell
Hiya! My name’s Jaclyn Pierrot, but you can call me Jacky.
She lays on her back, eyes closed. Her arms have been folded over her chest. She is surrounded by a pine coffin, hastily built but sturdy nonetheless.
You may be wondering what I’m doing here, stuck in a casket. Well, funny story,
She stands in the ring across from Matthew Knox at the Top Golf Range in Las Vegas, Nevada. His face remains calm and determined - hers the picture of madness.
See, not long ago, I got in the ring with…
She rushes forward at Knox, but freezes, mouth wide, eyes narrowed. The exact face your mother told you not to make or it would stick.
Ew. No wait, before that.
Jaclyn begins to move in reverse, back out of the ring, up the ramp and then much more rapidly landing in Baltimore, May 31st. She once again lays on her back, grimace overtaking the jester’s smile.
Okay, see, a few months ago, I lost my first job wrestling. Not only that, I lost my very first belt. Yeah, big whoop right?
A body comes crashing down on her, hooking a tattooed thigh. The referee slides into place: One, two, three.
That’s what I thought too.
The arena erupts in noise as the form moves off her. Jaclyn’s eyes roll into the back of her head. She bites her lip in pain.
And after what happened with Big Al and Tony...well…
She brings a brick down repeatedly, blood splashing from a form beneath her. A chubby hand reaches up, somehow pleading with her. She shoves it aside, laughing. The brick raises once more.
I decided to take a vacation: see the world! I heard Albuquerque was nice this time of year.
Smoke plumes from the hood of the periwinkle blue 1957 Oldsmobile Super 88 convertible, the clown looking down into the engine. Her eyes scan for any abnormalities. A pickup truck pulls up behind the car, and a larger man in a red hat steps out, catching hold of his pants.
My legally acquired car broke down in this shithole, you may have heard of it? Indianapolis? It’s nothing like Gnawbone, let me tell you. That’s where the greatest guy a Doll like me could ask for Tempest lives..no wait, where was I? Right, so my legally acquired car broke down in this shithole and without any money to pay the bills, I had to take a job. Do things the honest way.
Jaclyn holds a gun to a woman who is wearing a visor with a siren logo and a green apron. “Give me the fucking money,” she screams. Flashing red and blue lights fill the room and she looks around in a panic.
After being framed for attempted robbery, I made a deal: get in the way of some lowlife greasepainter in exchange for a little...legal assistance. Easier done than said, the dummy took the bait and followed me around like a little lost puppy, far, far away from her stupid prize. That part of the story doesn’t matter though, right...where was I?
She lays on her back, eyes...
Right, no. So after being so kind as to pick up my friend Bert McAlroy.
“Get in the fucking car!“ she screams. She is sitting in the driver’s seat of a burgundy Toyota Prius, aiming an Israeli Jerico 1941 at the young wrestler’s face. His hands slowly raise to show he is unarmed and compliant - his eyes tell a different tale.
In my own car.
Earlier in the day: Jacky, now in the passenger seat of the same car presses the gun against a different man’s neck, screaming, “Give me the fucking keys.”
This guy drugs me and steals not only my vehicle, but my second favorite gun. Legally acquired, of course.
She has a hold of the pistol, pulling hard, but the man’s hand still desperately clings on. Jacky drives her foot down, once, twice, three times a lady before jerking the pistol loose. She looks down at the weapon. It is engraved with the words, ‘Grande Papá’.
Ah Grandpa…so the stoner claims he ditched it somewhere between Boswell and New Mexico. Does this piece of shit not know how much guns cost? Well, I didn’t have insurance on it, but I made sure he paid up.
With a running start, she swings a steel chair into the trapped wrestler’s face. Two larger men hold firm on his arms, his head left with nowhere to go to absorb the impact. She swings again.
With Interest.
And again.
Alright...and a little for my troubles.
And again. The two men release his arms and he slumps to the ground. His girlfriend is shoved towards him and the clown walks away, a smile crushed into her face.
Well...turns out he had friends. Lots of ‘em. And family. Who woulda thunk it, huh? With Tempy by my side, it was easy.
Jaclyn is tackled to the mat, grabbing hold of Knox as they roll to the outside. Meanwhile, Koznar slams Duncan down with the Connemara IV before rolling out of the ring. Tempest covers Ryder and the referee counts the three. The audience goes wild!
Everything’s easy when he’s near. Right, the casket...this boy’s daddy gets all in a huff, just cause I saw that to it that you know who made it to the ICU. So this guy challenges me to a match. “I Quit”.
The clown ducks again, driving her bicep into his groin once more. Knox doubles over and Jacky looks to the rope. She runs to the rope, rebounds and kicks towards his face. He steps back and she loses her balance in slow motion.
Well, motherfucker, I’ve never quit anything in my life except smoking, so there’s no way in hell I’ll say quit to you. So the last thing I remember was ol’ cuddle bug wrapped around me and someone asking if I’d say quit.
Knox tightens the hold - one arm is wrapped tight around her throat and the other has her arm in a half-nelson, dangling uselessly above her. Jaclyn’s smile turns to a grimace and she struggles more furiously for a moment, but the move is locked in and her struggling slowly subsides.
Over my dead body.
Her eyes close and her body goes limp. Everything freezes. The roar of the crowd becomes a hush. First her mouth moves, slowly singing the words. The blood drips from her torn forehead:
“To die is to know that you're alive
And my river of blood won't run dry”
Her eyes open, but they are white and hollow. Dead and useless. She stares at nothing, her free hand reaching forward for something. Someone.
“I never wanted to fool you, no”
The hand reaches for the arm around her. She pulls in vain.
But a cold heart is a dead heart
And it feels like I've been buried alive by love
Everything is in motion again, the roar of the audience a distance murmur. Her energy is gone, the knees pressing more into her back. Only her mouth moves.
“If I should die before I wake
Pray no one my soul to take
And if I wake before I die
Rescue me with your smile”
The clown goes limp, the song fading into the distance, only a memory.
“If I should die before I wake“
An echo.
“Pray no one my soul to take“
“And if I wake before I die“
A dream.
“Rescue me with your smile”
in
The moon smiles down at Tempest. And Tempest smiles back.
The Astro Creeps trudge slowly across the field, Koznar carrying Ragdoll over one mammoth shoulder. They are all wearing cloaks that hide their faces, or masks, within the shadows of the hoods. Tempest practically skips merrily to the open grave, tapping his shovel against the mound of dirt next to it.
“Gently, Koznar,” Daedalus says quietly. He lifts the lid of the coffin that Tempest had built himself. They all stand around it grimly, and Koznar kneels down slowly, setting Ragdoll inside.
Daedalus looks up at Tempest and Tempest nodded. Shutting the lid, Daedalus backs away.
“Hook it up,” Tempest says. His tone is void of emotion.
Koznar obliges, hooking up the pulley system to the eye bolts on the coffin. He stations himself behind it and begins first lifting it above the hole in the earth, and then lowering it.
“Bury me in a nameless grave,” Koznar’s deep voice breaths behind his mask. “I came from God a world to save.”
The coffin lowers.
“I brought them wisdom from above,” Montague says vacantly. “Worship, and liberty and love.”
The coffin continues to lower.
“They slew me for I did disparage,” Pisces says with her eyes locked on the coffin. “Therefore religion, law and marriage.”
The coffin reaches the bottom with a thud.
“So be my grave without a name,” Tempest says, “that earth may swallow up my shame.”
He kneels down then and gazes upon the coffin. Then he stands and pulls the hood back. His half mask looked stitched along the middle of his face. Suddenly, Tempest throws his head back and laughter fills the air.
He shovels dirt onto the top of the casket, his laughter dying down briefly.
“Eat… dirt… Jacky!” he says, breaking into another fit of high-pitched maniacal laughter.
He shovels more dirt onto the coffin, still laughing. And the moon laughs with him.
Once the hole is filled, they stand and wait. For what seemed like days, and could have been hours. Tempest kneels down at one point, murmuring his own sermons to himself.
“Beneath the moon,” he whispers. “Destroying to create. Beneath the moon, destroying to create. Destroying to create. Destroying to create.”
Montague reaches inside his ringmaster jacket beneath the cloak and pulls out a ukulele. He hands it to the waiting open hand of Tempest, who wipes a tear from his eye and takes a deep breath. He begins to strum it effortlessly.
By the window, that is where I'll be
Come tip toe through the tulips with me”
He pauses, still strumming, then releases a high pitched...
“Ahhh-ohhh.”
He bares his teeth, his eyes peering out of the corners of his sockets.
“Tip toe from the garden
By the garden of a willow tree
And tip toe through the tulips with me”
He falls to both knees next to the grave, his face inches from the dirt.
“Knee deep in flowers we'll stray
We'll keep the shhhhhhhhhhowers awaaaaaay!”
He screams the last line in anguish, and his ukulele strums off-key. He slams a fist into the strings angrily. Little bugs peek out of the dirt in protest for Tempest disturbing their home. And the rage disappears from him, his face at peace once more.
“And if I kiss you, in the garden
In the moonlight, will you pardon me?
And tip toe through the tulips with me”
The rest of the Creeps begin clicking their tongues rhythmically during the song’s bridge, swaying from side to side and putting their arms around each other’s shoulders. Montague leads the dance in the middle, and the others follow his choreography.
“Knee deep in flowers we'll stray
We'll keep the…”
Tempest brings his mourning head down as he sighs heavily.
“...showers awaaaaay!”
Tears stream down his cheeks as he looks up at the moon dejectedly. He strums harder, and the others look down upon the ground in silence.
“And if I kiss you in the garden
In the moonlight, will you pardon me?
And tip toe through the tulips with meeeeeeeeee!”
He finally stands, slamming the ukulele against the ground. It shatters into a thousand pieces as he releases a guttural roar. The others stand solemnly, eyes upon the grave as Tempest throws his little fit.
Jaclyn’s eyes open in a panic.
She frantically tries to take stock of her surroundings. It’s pitch-black and the air is tight. Her arms can barely move. She smells wet, musty earth around her with only a layer of unsanded pine protecting her from it’s crushing weight. Something crawls along her thigh.
Where the fuck am I?
The last thing she remembers was that the asshole had his arm around her throat and she couldn’t breath.
Am I dead?
Her hands slide along the side of the box. There was no mistake: it’s a coffin. Her hands press against the lid. She strains and collapses back down.
"Don't panic," she thinks, but it is hard to hear anything over the blood curdling screaming that fills the tiny box. Fingers claw against the sides, “And shut that maniac up!”
After a moment, her head drops back down and she lays flat.
Breath.
If you breathe, you die. If you don’t breathe, well...same thing right? To be or not to be, in the end, it doesn’t really matter. She didn’t have much time before it was the long goodnight.
I need a plan.
Jaclyn’s nails frantically tear at the coffin. The unsanded wood digs into her skin and a chunk breaks free, stabbing into her palm.
“Someone stop that screaming!”
Jacky bites down onto her lip, pulling the wood from her hand. She tries to compose herself. She can feel her lungs tightening, the air clamping down. She suddenly feels hot, clammy. She feels a pinch on her ankle.
What’s biting my leg?
She shakes her foot, but her knee rams into the wood. Pain shoots up her thigh and she reaches for her knee, her forehead smashing hard. Tears flush some of the dirt from her stinging eyes. The biting starts again. One. Two. A multitude of mandibles munched at her ankle. A centipede? Ants? The hunter becomes the hunted - the killer becomes the killed. It’s the circle of life without the chorus. She starts to sob, wedging her elbow against the side of the casket to try and cover her face to muffle her wailing. Her mouth bites down on her forearm. She draws blood.
Just scream. Give in. What does it matter? What did any of it matter? The belts? The battles? Bullshit on top of bullshit. The bitch got what was coming to her, huh? And what about Tempest?
Jaclyn stops. She flew out without a word from And Then The Dragons Came, unsure of where she last stood with him. They stood side-by-side, but she left alone. He never said anything about it, but it wasn’t about her: it was his night and he was still her hero - the demon knight. She sighs, closing her eyes.
She loves me.
The memories of him crawl through her brain. Why didn’t he say anything before she left?
Cause I’m a failure.
She runs her hands along the lid once more. She didn’t have the leverage to break through, but maybe a few bullets could loosen things? She could feel her .44 Magnum underneath her, somehow tucked in the back of her waistband. Who knew she kept it there?
Tempest?
No...she failed him, someone must have just dumped her belongings in with her. She let that idiot get a hold of her. He must have gone through with it, or at least tried.
“Last chance”
He always had such stupid one-liners.
She is able to leverage her arm underneath herself. Her elbow stabs into the side of the casket. She can almost feel it. The inches feel like miles.
Almost there Jacky.
She swallows. She tries to pull back: she can’t move.
“I’m stuck,” she cries out and wiggles. She kicks her leg. Sure enough, Jaclyn has somehow wedged herself into place, arm locked behind her back, “I’m stuck!”
“Don’t panic,” A ringing fills her ears, her eyes a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Her throat constricts - she cannot breathe. Jaclyn’s eyes roll back all the way to Las Vegas - his arm wrapped around her, his hot breath against the back of her neck. The jarring sounds of her own heartbeat turn into a crashing rhythm. Knox voice, inches from her ear, growls at her:
You take a dash for my cash it's your ass that I'm blasting”
The knees grinding in her spine. He shakes her to help force the air from her body, replacing it instead with the bone of his knee.
“Boy, you wanna play that game bitch?
Take a dash for my cash it's your ass that I'm blasting”
His arm around her throat. She can’t breathe - everything is spinning. His stupid voice in her mind.
“You're bad luck, you're so, stuck”
She’s trapped. Her arm is limp, useless.
“Stuck, deep down in that hole again
Stuck, got your brain on my green again”
She can’t move, can’t think.
Where am I?
“Stuck, you're so, you're so, you're so stuck”
“Oh fuck.” The universe turns into a gyroscope. She swallows once more before losing consciousness.
It’s all over, kid.
Your foot sailed wide through the air - just missed.
Charlie Brown did it, again.
Lucy? I’m home with a bang and a zoom - right on your kisser. You could feel his knees in your back, the strong arm wrapped around your neck. His powerful grip immobilized your free arm. Try as you might, you couldn't escape. Under the right circumstances...
“Last chance.”
“Fuck you.”
Is that what you were going to say? He cut you off, the crook of his elbow pinched into your neck. The ringing in the ears, the swirl of lights and sounds: that old familiar feeling. Panic, fear. You struggle, but you’re not strong enough: it’s over.
He won.
Darkness.
Has everyone ever told you what a piece of shit you are? Was any of it worth it?
“Last chance.”
“Fuck you.”
Nope: fuck you.
The waves of nausea rush over her. A thin layer of sweat coats her forehead. She’s flat on her back, once more, her arm uncomfortably tucked behind her. Her breaths are shallow, the air burning now as she draws the last bits towards her.
I’m going to die here, alone.
She closes her eyes and shifts her weight, her knuckles brushing past a metal handle.
My gun!
The pain in her shoulder is burning. She flicks the pistol free of her waistband and wiggles her arm by her side. Sweat cascades across her face as she reaches across herself, taking hold of the revolver.
This is it, my chance.
She tilted it upwards. After she fired, she knew she would have to move fast, but there was not enough time to consider anything else. The first shot could be the last. She draws in one final breath and pulls the trigger.
Light fills the tiny chamber and she can feel the cool dirt scatter along her stomach. She shoves it along the side of herself, making as much room as possible. She quickly runs out of room. She fires again and the top gives in with a groan and the weight of the earth comes crashing down on her.
It’s tight, but she is able to wiggle herself upwards. She can feel the life around her undulate as she crawls towards the surface. Her muscles ache and her chest screams -the oxygen she desperately needs only feet away. Her arms drag.
I’m going to die.
Jaclyn stops, wedged in the dirt. Her eyes dart around as she begins to sing.
And I can't find the air”
A worm crawls just past her eyeball, its back sliding along, grazing it. She closes it, looking up with the other as she continues.
“I don't know who I'm kidding
Imagining you care”
On the surface, the group stands and waits. Tempest, the most focused, his eyes still on the dirt. Waiting. Expecting. He stares down at the earth, whispering to himself:
“And I could stand here waiting
A fool for another day
I don't suppose it's worth the price
And worth the price, the price that I would pay”
The two, separated by only a few feet of soil, Jacky slowly crawling through the earth and Tempest, willing her forward. Their voices join:
“And everyone keeps asking, "What's it all about?"
I used to be so certain and I can't figure out
What is this attraction?
I only feel the pain”
Tempest is silent once more. The clown stops moving for a moment as she thinks.
“There's nothing left to reason and only you to blame
Will it ever change?
'Cause I am barely breathing”
Another inch, another mile. Either way it’s too far.
I failed again.
Her brain begins to feel heavy - her chest an inferno.
It’s too much.
Her fingertips taste the cool night air. It breathes life through her palm, down her arm, and into her chest and she pulls one more time, hard with the last bits of strength she has. Her upper body drags itself free of the suffocating ground and into the living, breathing air. Her lungs draw in the night before screaming right into its face.
Jaclyn falls forward, tears pouring down her face as she sobs.
“She’s alive!” Daedalus says merrily.
The clown pushes herself up and looks at him, eyes narrowing. He swallows and looks to Koznar. Koznar looks at Montague. Montague to Tempest. Tempest to the barrel of the gun. Tempest turns to see the others backs as they flee back towards the farmhouse. He looks back at her. Her hand is shaking. She sniffles, “What happened?”
Tempest gestures around himself with a smile.
“I missed you.”
She looks back at the hole she just dug out of, at the farm, and then back to him.
“Do you like it?”
The gun drops from her hand and she rushes towards him, leaping into his arms.
“I love it.”
He rocks from side to side, the smaller clown in his arms. Her arms slide around his neck and they dance to a song only they can hear.
The next morning.
Jaclyn sits in a pair of pajama shorts adorned with bicycles and a plain grey tank top. She is kneeling on the bed with Bunny on her lap. Her forearms rest on the window - her head rests on her hands. Jacky sighs.
“What's wrong, Miss Pierrot?” Daedalus says from the door. She doesn’t answer, instead looking down at the dead rabbit in her lap, “Miss Pierrot?”
“Nothing,” she mutters. Tempest appears in the doorway in front of Daedalus with an ice cream sandwich in his hand.
“Jacky’s mad she can’t wrestle,” he says with a laugh, taking a bite.
“Shut up!” she squeals, her voice cracking. She turns around to throw Bunny at him. Jacky covers her mouth in surprise, realising too late what she did. Tempest catches him.
“No, you shut up!” he mocks, tossing it back. She cradles the carcass close to her chest. Jacky turns around with a huff. The two men exchange a glance as they see her wipe her eye.
“Don’t be sad Miss Pierrot, Tempest is an ass,” he swats Tempest in the chest receiving a swat back. The ice cream bar is tossed towards Daedalus who deftly catches it, after only a few juggles. He looks down at the half-eaten treat with contempt.
“What would make you happy, Dolly?”
Jaclyn doesn’t answer. She leans her head on her hand, resting her elbow on her knee. Tempest bats at her pigtails and pokes at her as he sings. She tries her best to ignore him.
Whatever Jacky wants she's gonna get it.
Whatever Jacky wants she's gonna get it...”
He finally pokes her directly in her belly and she giggles, grabbing at his hand. He pulls her to her feet, spins her and releases. She tumbles to her bottom and looks at him, pouting again. Jacky crosses her arms as he jumps onto the bed, pointing down at her as the guitar wails. Tempest paces for a moment, snatching something from beside the bed, before turning his back to her, readying himself. He spins around to her, wearing a rubber John Travolta mask. She giggles and snorts with glee.
“I wouldn't walk 500 miles when I could fly coach
But almost anything”
Tempest jumps down, almost on top of Jacky. She pulls back but then makes chomping motions at him with her teeth as he pretends to swim.
“I wouldn't swim across the Nile
Cause I could get amoebic dysentery”
He holds his stomach and she goes to cover her nose. He catches her wrists, pulling her up so she's pressed against him.
“I would do almost anything for you”
She looks down at his mouth as he sings, slowly moving closer.
“Cause if there's anything you want
I'll probably get it
Just tell me what you need”
Just as their mouths almost touch, a large hunting blade is lifted between them. Jaclyn’s mouth is agape as she looks down at the knife. He hands it over to her and she jumps around with the blade high in the air in joy.
“I'll try not to forget it
You need someone to blame”
They turn to face each other. Jaclyn bites her lip.
“I'll say I said it”
Whatever Jacky wants, she's gonna get it”
She runs and dives at him, but he moves out of the way. She lands with a clatter, scattering a stack of clothing and bones. The knife is buried in the wall. Tempest turns back towards her, reaching a hand gallantly down, but she throws a jacket at him before folding her arms over her chest. He looks down at it: snakeskin. He tosses it over his shoulders, and pops the collar. She erupts in another fit of laughter, holding her hands up. Tempest shakes his head and backs up, snapping his fingers. Jaclyn starts to wiggle the blade loose.
“I wouldn't climb the highest mountain
Could get a blister, but almost anything
I wouldn't throw coins in a fountain
I may be needing to make a phone call”
There is an old rotary phone on the side table, which he reaches down to grab.
“I'd call you collect whenever I could
'Cause if there's anything you want”
She beckons him forward with a finger. He shakes his head, indicating he has a call.
“I'll probably get it
Just tell me what you need”
She begins to crawl towards him like a tiger stalking its prey.
“I'll try not to forget it
You need someone to blame”
She reaches him and grabs his hand, pulling herself up.
“I'll say I said it”
She removes the phone and hangs it up.
“Whatever Jacky wants she's gonna get it”
Her fingers spread through his hair, the dagger beginning to curl into the air behind her like a scorpion’s tail. Tempest scoops her up, spinning wildly in the center of the room.
“You are so beautiful.
You are so beautiful to me.”
Jaclyn laughs loudly, covering her mouth as the honking turns to a snort. The two land on the bed, with Tempest on top.
“Do you like it?” he indicates towards the weapon she still has in her hand. She places it between them with two hands on the handle, looking it over. Jacky makes a stabbing motion towards him.
“Yeah…” She says, unconvincingly. She bites her lip before setting it on the bed beside them, her hand twisting into his shirt. She sighs, looking down between them. Tempest brow furrows.
“What would make you happy, little clown?”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“I want to be a supervillain.”
He considers for a moment, nodding his head, “Done.” Jaclyn giggles, pulling Tempest down closer to her, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“Where do we start?” she taps her chin for a moment, her fingers running along the back of his tricep. She winks.
“I have some ideas,” their eyes lock and they draw near.
Tempest looks up from her as Daedalus clears his throat. He places his hand on the doorknob with a nod, “Should I close the door then?”
Tempest looks down at her and back at the doorway, “No-” he begins, but is cut off by the clown who grabs hold of the back of his head.
“Yes.”
Daedalus closes the door as she pulls Tempest roughly towards her.
New York City
A man in a long rain coat rushes through the door, hands tucked into his pockets. The hat is pulled low over his eyes and he looks around.
The pandemic had brought challenges for actors of all sizes. It was harder to maneuver a limousine in the city and a freak power outage had the area gridlocked. Public transportation was easier, faster. New York was different from LA: someone might spot him sure, but he could just duck into the crowd. He took one last look behind himself, one could never be too sure after all. There was a twinkle in his eye and he smiles, knowing he has successfully avoided the paparazzi and their usual swarm.
He takes a seat and looks down the train.
A woman at the far end bounces a young child on her knee. Just past her, there is a man asleep in what looks to be a rooster outfit. There is a sign in the shape of the arrow wedged behind him. He’d decided it was safe enough and had removed his hat, setting it on the seat beside him. The door of the subway begins to shut, but a large, dirty hand stops it. It is pried open with the screech of metal and a woman with cotton candy pigtails and what looks like clown makeup steps through.
She smiles down at him, but there is a certain menace to the familiarity. The owner of the hand, a monster of a man in a mask, stands to the side to allow Tempest and Daedalus to enter. He wedges his way through the frame and looms behind the group, nearly blocking the egress entirely.
“Are you sure about this?” Daedalus asks.
“Yeah, superheroes have narrators.”
“I thought you said they were stupid.” Tempest sneers, getting a shove from Jaclyn.
“They are stupid, stupid. We’re going to become supervillains.”
“Not astronauts?” He shoves her back
“I hate you,” she says, jumping into him. The two crash against the side of the car. Tempest grabs ahold of her hair as she bites down onto his neck. He pulls up causing her to clamp down more as the two of them scream. Koznar and Daedalus step away from the pair as they land on the floor, kicking and biting at each other.
“I’m sorry about them, my name is Daedalus. Mr. Freeman, is that correct?”
“Yes?” he says, confused. Morgan Freeman looks down the train. The woman opens the door to move to the next car, nudging at the sleeping man. He starts to complain, but she points their way and he rapidly gathers his things to follow.
“Fantastic! You have a wonderful voice, did you know that?” Daedalus sits down next to him, crossing his legs.
“Well, I’ve been told that.”
“It’s quite true!”
Morgan nods his head and the two sit in silence for a moment. He looks down at the pair still scuffling, a knife now out in the clown-girl’s hand. She straddles Tempest, his hand holding firm onto both of her wrists.
“No, fuck you!” She tries pushing down but he’s stronger and starts to turn the blade her way. She shakes her head, complaining, “No-no-no-no!”
The actor realizes he’s been staring and turns up to the giant looming man. Koznar has stepped closer and is only now a foot away. Mr. Freeman looks down to his hand and tries extending his.
“Hello, I didn’t quite catch your name mister…”
He doesn’t answer. Koznar steps back, his muscular shoulders rise and fall as he breaths. A voice tears through the mask as music fills the subway:
I've had every promise broken, there's anger in my heart
You don't know what it's like, you don't have a clue”
The large man reaches out and grabs one of the poles. He uses it to help pull his huge frame into the air for extra height as he kicks the air, flexing as he lands.
“If you did you'd find yourselves doing the same thing
You doing to me now”
He starts walking back towards the actor, slowly. Each step deliberate as he speaks.
“Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law”
He leans down, the mask almost touching Morgan Freeman’s face. He can see the reflection of his freckles and the horror in his own eyes reflecting through the grime.
“You don't know what it's like”
Koznar turns back to where the two passengers fled, this time not stopping. His voice begins to trail off.
“Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law”
He slams the door open.
“Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law”
The two are now sitting on the ground, watching the door shut behind Koznar. Jaclyn Pierrot pops up from the ground.
“Yeah! Breaking the fucking law!” she shrieks.
“I don’t quite understand how I can help?” Tempest follows suit, dusting his pants off. He has taken control of the knife and walks over, dropping into the bench-like seat between the two.
“See, my little Ragdoll right there has been down recently. To cheer her up, I told her I’d help her become a supervillian.” He gestures with the knife. Morgan Freeman’s eyes watch it move and he holds up his hands.
“Now listen. I’m just an actor. Those Batman movies-”
“No, we don’t care about those,” The knife stops close to his face.
“You don’t?”
“Nope, see,” he points over at Jaclyn who watches with glee, her fists balled up with excitement, “Jacky wants a narrator.”
“A narrator?” Morgan Freeman looks past the knife and at the clown who nods wildly, clapping her hands.
“Yeah, a narrator, stupid!” she parrots before mocking him with her honking laughter.
“I don’t even know how,” he begins but stops abruptly when the blade touches his cheek. Tempest looms closer.
“No see, I don’t think you understand.” the blade presses deeper into his flesh, “Whatever the Doll wants, the Doll gets.”
“Yeah!” she yells from over his shoulder. Her golden eyes are wide with pinpoints for pupils, a large gun suddenly in her hand.
“So...ready to do some narratin’?”
Morgan Freeman looks between them, unsure of who to be more afraid of. He hears a click from her gun then from the car where the large monstrosity went, he hears a mans screaming.
Dawn breaks as the old beat up pick up truck crawls to a stop in front of the house. The passenger door shoots open and Jaclyn bolts free, followed by Tempest. They have a hand-held camera. She stops in front of a large, barren tree with a homemade swing dangling beneath.
“Okay, here’s good,” she giggles. He continues to approach her and she puts a hand up to stop him, pressing the camera into his chest, “Record me?”
His hand reaches out, landing on her hip. He pulls her towards him but she presses him away once more with a laugh, “No, not that kind of video.”
“No?”
She stops and thinks about it for a moment, “Okay maybe later.”
She shrugs, pulling her weight off the ground using just her arms, kicking both feet as she struggles to hold up her weight. She drops back down with a laugh, “They say to know a man, you need to look into his eyes. To beat a man...well...I’m awful fond of just kicking them in their dicks.”
She makes a pewing noise and kicks one foot up before dropping back down into the swing.
“Speaking of dicks: Little Liam Davies. I heard from a little birdie you were once Policia. How fortunate: I got a love-hate relationship with the police. I love Sting, but I fucking hate the five-oh. Listen here and listen closely Little Liam, Monday Night? You’re gonna get the right to remain silent,” she holds up a fist, “and anything else I can use against you. Especially my friends. Hey guys, do you like the police?” She yells back over to the farmhouse.
In the distance, the gravelly voice of Koznar can be heard, “Fuck the police!”
“Yeah,” she echos, joyously, “We’re going to fuck the police!”
“Fuck up the police?” Tempest offers.
“What did I say?”
“Fuck the Police.”
“Yeah!” she squeels with excitement, “Fuck the Police.”
“It’s a brand new day and while the sun is beginning to shine bright, this is going to mark the beginning of the Bad Times. Indianapolis knew of the Bad Times. Riverdale too, but the fine citizens of Baltimore knew the Bad Times better than most. My time was brief, but like a flash flood, I destroyed everything in my path.” she swings back and forth for a moment thinking, “But the Bad Times never last, and I never got a chance to meet you officially Kyra, though our paths have crossed. A different time, a different place, sure maybe, but one stupid superhero, a drugged out rocker, and bad timing and there I was: without a belt, without a job, and without a goddamn clue where to go. Like I said, the Bad Times never last.”
The swinging stops. Jaclyn’s sinister smile slowly spreads from ear to ear.
“But Kyra, those times have come again, and even though our paths walked side-by-side once before, this time they will meet dead center of the crossroads. Now it’s time to learn how you expect to deal with the Devil. You know me though, right? Now, don’t get me wrong, anyone who wants to kick Johnny Hitmaker in the dick is a-okay with me sweetheart. No complaints here so listen: nothing personal out there on Monday, yeah?” she nods to herself. “All business.”
She leans back and forward, her legs and body forcing the makeshift swing to move. Just as suddenly as she begins, she stops and is left moving without any effort.
“Trouble is...I’m in the business of hurting people and...last I looked. You’re both people. And you’ll have the misfortune of being placed in the ring with me. So, Kyra. Liams: Sorry to say, but I am going to hurt both of you. Just enough so that you remember exactly who I am and where you should not be in the future, though. Maybe a permanent disability, I’m not picky. Nothing personal, after all.”
She looks past the camera at some activity going on at the house. Someone can be heard screaming, “Stop him” and a door bangs against the side of the building. She laughs as she watches, before turning her attention once more to the camera, “The truth is though: I really don’t fucking know you and maybe I should. See, maybe that will be my problem. Maybe I should have gotten to know more about both of you and seen what you’re capable of. However, the fact of the matter is, when you have so many victims in your life, you stop identifying them by their names or even their faces and more the how they scream and the movements their bodies make.” She makes a stabbing motion, her golden eyes crazy, wild, and wide as she stares at her imaginary victim, “And I know, from the absolute bottom of your hearts that you’re in it to win it, and kids, that’s a-okay with me cause like I said before.”
She winks into the camera.
“Over my dead body.”
Jaclyn stands and walks past the camera as the feed is cut. Tempest reaches for her.
“Wait, Jacky. Before you go in, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Jaclyn looks over towards the front yard. The monster Koznar has finally chased down the bound and blindfolded actor. He has a grip on Morgan Freeman's arm and drags him towards the farm. The two move forward, despite his best efforts to resist - Koznar cannot be resisted.
“Someone help me, dear God! I’m famous!” he yells in one last effort before disappearing into the farm. She turns back to Tempest. He takes her by the hand and they walk out towards the field - where it all began and maybe where it all ended - the circle of death. The suffocating, the agony. Jaclyn swallows as she remembers everything. The helplessness. Who was she kidding, she had no business here or anywhere. Especially not back in the ring. The ground is soft beneath their feet. Jaclyn looks around - this was just her grave. Would it be again?
She starts to turn, singing:
“Like a brat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes
When the night is over, like a brat out of hell, I'll be gone, gone, gone”
She starts to walk back to the house, but he grabs hold of her arm, turning her.
“Like a brat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes”
He interrupts, an arm around her waist. She doesn’t protest, her arms drop down beside her.
“But when the day is done
And the sun goes down
And the moonlight's shining through”
He spins her, her hands clutch at him, but there’s no need. He’s strong enough to easily lift her. She can feel the blood rushing to her chest.
“Then like a sinner before the gates of Heaven”
Tempest twirls her wide, dropping to one knee to look up at her.
“I'll come crawling on back to you”
She looks sad for a moment, tugging her hand away as she starts to walk.
“I'm gonna hit the highway like a battering ram
On a silver-black phantom bike”
He scurries forward on his knees, but she turns on her heels. It’s raining now, the grounds slowly become mud. Her pistol is in her hand, held down by her side as she approaches.
“When the metal is hot, and the engine is hungry
And we're all about to see the light”
She presses the gun against his head. He closes his eyes. Jacky puts her other hand over her own heart.
“Nothing ever grows in this rotting old hole,
And everything is stunted and lost”
He looks back up at her, taking the barrel of the gun in his hand.
“And nothing really rocks, and nothing really rolls,
And nothing's ever worth the cost”
He places the barrel of the gun in his mouth. Her face drops and her grip weakens.
“Well I know that I'm damned if I never get out,
And maybe I'm damned if I do”
Her hand trembles. The gun tumbles down into the mud with a thunk.
“But with every other beat I've got left in my heart,
You know I want to be damned with you”
He stands up. It’s pouring, her pigtails lay lazily on her shoulders. He reaches and brushes them back, taking hold of her shoulders.
“If I gotta be damned, you know I want to be damned
Dancing through the night with you”
She reaches up and pulls them down onto her hips. Her arms go around his neck. Jaclyn smiles up at him, her golden eyes sparkling.
“Well if I gotta be damned, you know I want to be damned,
Gotta be damned, you know I want to be damned”
Her eyes close and she leans forward slightly, tilting her head. He pulls her closer, his strong muscles lifting her onto her toes.
“Gotta be damned, you know I want to be damned
Dancing through the night.”
He spins her, her feet doing their best to keep up, but he is able to move her like a doll. She feels breathless as she whispers back.
“Dancing through the night.”
“Dancing through the night with you”
Their mouths press together in an explosion. The pull and tug and push against one another as the rain falls heavy down on them, bouncing and skipping off the earth. It’s a full moon and behind them in the farm, Morgan Freeman’s voice can be heard screaming.
“I’m famous!”
Tempest Room.
Bunny lays flat on the bed. More body parts have since fallen off and more stuffed animal parts have been crudely stapled into place. The haunting button eyes stare lifelessly at the ceiling.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit:
I know what you're thinking. While I appear to be a dead rabbit, I know you are reading this in my voice.
(VO)Jaclyn:
That's right, look who has a narrator now! Suck my nuts Avenger!
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Bunny:
Nuts?
(VO)Jaclyn:
It's a figure of speech.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit:
Very well. Suck our nuts, Avenger!
The rabbit continues to sit still and lifeless. The room is quiet. Outside the noise of the clown’s voice can be heard, the mumble of her talking cut every so often with the sound of her laughter.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit:
Hello? Is anyone there?
There is the sound of gunshots in the distance and nothing else. Morgan Freeman clears his throat.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit:
Well, I’ll sing my song now I guess.
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