The Clown Prince & Me
Chapter 1
This is stupid. Why was I here again? Oh yeah, 'cause I'm part of this stupid gang! I rolled my icy eyes to the bland ceiling searching for a better reason, but found none. I crossed my arms. I can't believe I let myself get talked into coming here. I was out of my damned mind! I broke my gaze on the ceiling and looked at the group of men positioned at a gigantic, rectangular table. Each man was here for the same ridiculous reason. Money. That's all everything was centered around nowadays. Nothing more, nothing less. Maroni had dragged me with him to this rundown, dirty, old building where, unknown to me at the time, Maroni was meeting about ten to fifteen other Mob members. The only one, though, who was of real importance was this really, really rich man named Lau, or something like that. He was the reason they were all there, and the money of course.
Maroni, accompanied with some of his gang and I, had shown up some time ago and were waiting for the last person, the Chechen. When he showed up he just about sat down before two muscular men, who I swear to God appeared from nowhere, carried a large TV between them and set it down on the end of the table.
"The hell is this?" one of Maroni's men questioned angrily. Yeah, what was this? Where the hell was this Lau guy? Don't tell me he was a no show. I'll be pissed. And sure enough, the TV turned on and smack dab in the middle of its screen was this Chinese guy. Lau. Right then and there I completely lost interest in whatever the hell he was saying. I didn't care. I didn't give a damn about him or his money. All I cared about was the fact that this a*****e had gotten Maroni to drag me here with him for no reason, especially when Lau wasn’t here, when I could have been out doing something other then 'business', as Maroni put it.
I should have been furious, and I was, but I couldn't be. I sighed. I just didn’t have the energy tonight. I've been so tired lately, running errands for Maroni and the rest of The Mob.
I think Lau had just finished up his little speech and must have said something funny because I heard one of the men laughing slowly. My eyes quickly scanned the room and apparently everyone was just as confused as I was. Whoever was laughing, wasn't in this room. The door on the opposite side of the room loudly banged against its hinges and the slow, drawn out laughter filled the room completely. The laughter's owner leisurely made his way from the back of the room, stepping from the dimness into the light of the overhanging fluorescents, and continued forward. At that very moment I instantly noticed one immediate thing about this man. Scars. That, and a face done up in grease paint that made him look like a demented clown.
"And I thought my jokes were bad," he said darkly, turning his head to the side and giving the men at the table a sidelong glare. I saw some of the men rise apprehensively from the table, unsure what to do.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn’t have my boy here pull your head off?" Gambol questioned, motioning to one of his goons next to him.
"How 'bout a magic trick?" the clown-man quipped. Gambol’s face was priceless. It looked like a true WTF face. But I quickly turned my attention back to the clown as he slammed a pencil into the table.
"I'm gonna make this pencil disappear," clown-man said as Gambol’s goony headed towards him. As soon as the goony was within three feet of his target the clown-man, quick as a flash, grabbed the unsuspecting man behind the head and wrist and smashed his forehead onto the pencil.
"TA-DAAH!" the clown sang triumphantly, releasing the dead man from his grasp as he quickly sat in the nearest convenient seat at the head of the table.
"It'ssssss, ahhh, it's gone," he sighed, looking around the room from one face to the next, then intently at mine. Those eyes. I wasn't afraid of him, but it felt like he was looking right through me. Under his intense gaze I couldn't hold back a shiver and saw a little glimmer of laughter dance in his eyes.
"Oh, and by the way, the suit, it wasn't cheap" he said, leaning back in the chair. He continued without waiting for a response. "You 'ought to know, you bought it," he remarked, readjusting the lapels of his dark purple coat. Gambol stood from his seat, surely ready to smash this clown's lights out. The guy sitting around the edge of the table from the clown spoke.
"Sit. I want to hear proposition," the Chechen said in his heavy Russian accent, leaning back in his seat and waving his hand out to the clown-man adjacent from him. Gambol looked at the clown. The clown just glanced from Gambol to the Chechen, while pointing at said man as his tongue glided over his bottom lip. Gambol glared spitefully at the clown, but sat down.
"Now, lets wind the clocks back a year." He glanced up to the ceiling. "These cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of you." the clown said, his eyes rolling from the ceiling to look around the room. "I mean, what happened? Your balls drop off? Hm?" I couldn't help but laugh at that. Then all eyes were on me.
"What?! I thought it was frickin hilarious!" I snapped. I glared back at them with equal force, then glanced at the clown. He was looking at me with a mocking grin, accentuated by his scars, while pure amusement danced in his eyes. I just smiled back at him. He then went back to talking.
"You see a guy like me-"
"A freak," Gambol interrupted harshly. Everyone laughed.
"A guy like me," the clown continued but then stopped made a loud 'click' with his tongue. "Look, listen," he smacked his lips, "I know why you chose to have your little," he feigned a cough, "group therapy sessions in broad daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at night." He smacked his lips again "The Batman. See, Batman has shown Gotham your true colors, unfortunately. Dent, he's just the beginning," he said waving his arm away. "And as for, uh, the television’s so-called 'plan'. The Batman has no jurisdiction. He'll find him and make him squeal!" the clown said as he clenched his fist, causing his gloves to squeak. "I know the squealers when I see them, and…" clown-man said pointing accusingly at Lau on the television. Lau looked scared shitless. I saw him cover the camera with his hand and then the screen went black.
"What do you propose?" the Chechen questioned.
"It’s simple. We, uh, kill the Batman," the clown said, pushing a lock of hair out of his face. Everyone laughed again.
"If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already?" Maroni quipped.
"If you're good at something never do it for free," the clown said, pointing at Maroni while tilting his head down and looking up at him at an angle.
"How much you want?" the Chechen asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Uh, half,” the clown said blankly. Laughter again.
"You’re crazy,” Gambol whispered to the clown.
"I'm not," he said lowly "No I'm not-uh," clown-man said, rolling his lips together as he waited for everyone to quiet down. He glared at Gambol, but addressed the men. "If we don't deal with this now," he stuck his arms up and shrugged, the corners of his mouth pulling down, "soon little, uh, Gambol here, won't be able to get a nickel for his Grandma," the clown said, pissing Gambol off with a hint of laughter in his voice and a smirk plastered on his face. Gambol slammed his fist on the table.
"Enough, from the clown!!!" Gambol roared. He exploded out of his seat and stormed towards the clown-man. Said man rose quickly from his seat and pulled open the side of his coat exposing a bunch of explosives strung inside.
"Ahh tah-tah-tah. Lets not blow this out of proportion," the clown said, waving his arm out in front of himself with the chord to the bombs tied to a keychain ring around his thumb. Everyone rose from their seats. I didn't. I crossed my arms and gave the clown a look that said 'I dare you'. He smirked and glanced back to Gambol.
"You think you can steal from us and just walk away?" Gambol growled.
"Yeah," clown-man responded innocently.
"I'm puttin the word out. 500 grand for this clown dead. A million alive, so I can teach him some manners first," Gambol kept up his rant. Damn you're in deep now Gambol. Well, it was nice knowing ya. The clown-man glared grimly at Gambol as he went to point at him, but stopped and turned his attention back to the other men.
"Alright so listen. Why don’t you give me a call me when ya wanna start taking things a little more seriously. Here's. My. Card," clown-man said, producing a card from his back pocket and laying it on the end of the table. He then started to back out of the room. "Mmm mmm," he hummed, waving around the string that was still tied to the ring at his thumb to the explosives in his coat. When he backed up to the door he swiftly kicked the door open behind him, stepped out, and disappeared down the hall. Gambol glared at the spot where the clown had been only seconds ago and slammed his fist on the table. I too stared at the spot where clown-man had been and couldn't shake this gut feeling that I'd be seeing him in the very near future. And little did I know that the next time I saw him, my life would be changed. Forever.
