Chapter Text
The door slammed open, causing Branzy to glance up from the book that he was attempting to read. In the doorway stood Clownpierce, with his grinning jester mask, and his scythe, which was covered in blood.
“How’d it go?” Branzy leaned forward expectantly, while Clown made his way over to his desk and grabbed something out of a drawer, using it to try to clean the blood off of his scythe.
“It could’ve gone better.” Clown let out a frustrated sigh and pulled his mask off, setting it on the table. “I was able to kill Leo, but it was difficult to be the host and be in the pit at the same time.”
Branzy hummed, mind whirling to think of a solution. “So what are you thinking?”
“Well,” Clown paused for a second, looking at Branzy, an idea obviously taking shape in his head. “I was thinking, how would you like to be the host?”
—
Branzy took a breath, straightening his vest. Clown had given him a mask like the ones that the staff for the casino wore, one that only covered his eyes, as well as a top hat. He didn’t think it would protect his identity from Zam, but at least he looked good.
Branzy clutched the key in his hand, the one that turned on the machine, as he heard footsteps and voices approach the door.
It swung open, and he saw Clown, with an arm sweeping out in a dramatic gesture, and another man, dressed fancily with a crown poised on his head and a sword at his hip. Zam.
The blond man laughed. “You weren’t kidding, Clown. Maybe I am interested then.” He glanced at Branzy, stared for a second, before a grin broke out on his face. “Hey, is that Branzy?” He moved forward and slung an arm over Branzy’s shoulder in a gesture of faux friendship. “I can’t believe you finally got a job! And with Clownpierce, of all people.” Zam laughed again.
Branzy shoved him away, straightening his clothes. “Yes,” Clown came to stand beside him, resting a gloved hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “Branzy works for me now.”
“I didn’t take you for an idiot, but Clown, you might want to find a different employee.” Zam had his eyes fixed on Branzy, his voice smug.
“I don’t need advice on how to run my business from you, Zam.” Clown’s voice left no room for argument. “Now, Branzy, would you do the honors?”
The shorter man nodded, turning to the control box on the side, and inserting the key. Upon turning it, the funhouse sprung to life, lights flashing and walls whirling.
“Throughout the funhouse, there are three tokens hidden,” Branzy steadied himself, explaining the game. “If you find them all, you can exchange them for a prize.” He gestured to a wheel with different prizes listed on it, ranging from terrible to actually pretty good.
“So Zam,” Clown stepped forward, one hand outstretched. “Want to play?”
The blond man hesitated for a second, then grinned and shrugged. “Why not?” He reached into his pocket and dropped something, probably diamonds, into Clown’s open hand.
“Then your time starts now.” The taller man stepped back, allowing Zam to attempt the first challenge. Branzy startled as he felt Clown’s hand lightly touch his shoulder. “You ready?” He whispered, not taking his eyes off of Zam. The shorter man nodded, taking a breath.
Stepping forward, Branzy made his way to the staff catwalk that was designed so that he could transverse through the challenges, but not get caught up in them. Using this, he followed Zam, offering hints and commenting on his progress, cheering at his victories, offering empty words of encouragement at his failures. It was like a game, a game that Branzy was good at, a game that allowed Clown to fade into the background, to disappear to the pit.
They were able to get to the three doors without a problem. And without a problem, Zam picked the door in the middle. He eyed the jump, not even offering a glance to the supposedly foam floor below. Branzy watched with anticipation as Zam stepped back, then took a running leap, aiming for the token framed at the end of room. Obviously, he failed, and the floor gave way, dropping the blond man into the pit.
Branzy heard a shout followed by laughter, and he crouched over the ledge to peer into the hole in the collapsed floor. Clown looked up at him, scythe bloodied. “It worked!” Branzy exclaimed, grinning.
Standing up, he ran towards the staff door that led to the pit, the door opening as he reached it, leaving Clown standing in front of him. His scythe was covered in blood, but he had pushed up his mask and was smiling.
“He had a respawn point, but I managed to get some stuff off of him before his body disappeared.” Clown held out a handful of diamonds, allowing Branzy to take them.
“Did you get the heart?” The shorter man asked, turning the precious stones over in his hands.
“Yeah.” Clown gestured to the diamonds. “Take those as a bit of compensation. You can go spend them on casino games.”
Branzy scoffed light-heartedly. “And get scammed? No thanks.” He pocketed the payment. “Do you have any more customers tonight?”
The taller man paused for a moment. “Actually, I might. Let’s see if he’s here.”
—
Branzy leaned over the banister, scanning the crowd. He couldn’t recognize anyone in the sea of people on the floor below, all clumped around tables or machines. Clown seemed to be searching intently, but it was hard to tell since he had slid his mask back on.
He was just about to ask Clown if they could give up and call it a night, when the taller man softly exclaimed. “There.” Branzy tried to follow where he was pointing, but there were a lot of people, until— Oh. Leaning against one of the bars was Vitalasy. Because of course Clownpierce would have something against Vitalasy. And of course Branzy would have to be involved.
Clown must’ve noticed the shorter man’s hesitation, because he nudged him. “Do you know him? Vitalasy?”
“I’ve heard of him.” Branzy mind raced, trying to come up with a lie to get him out of having to lead Vitalasy through the funhouse, until his eyes landed on the person he was with. “Is that Spepticle?”
Clown leaned over, examining the man with vibrant red hair next to Vitalasy. “I think so. Why?”
“He owes me money!” Branzy exclaimed, hoping to steer the conversation away from the fox hybrid. “I thought he was dead too. Who fakes their own death so they don’t have to pay someone?” He hadn’t exactly confirmed that Spepticle was dead, but he’d seemed to just disappear, in the way only insanely rich people or dead people can do.
“Do you want his heart instead?”
“What?”
“We can bring him through the funhouse.” Clown glanced at him. “You can get his heart instead.” The offer was tempting. Branzy rarely got the chance for revenge, but he didn’t think he could afford to betray Vitalasy.
“Go to the funhouse. I’ll bring them over.” And then Clown was gone. Branzy sighed and headed back to the entrance of the purple and black striped walls.
He paced back and forth, trying to think of a way out of this. He couldn’t betray Clown, that was as good as a permanent death sentence, but so was betraying Vitalasy. Vitalasy knew. He could make Branzy’s life so much more of a living hell.
The door opened, and Branzy straightened himself, folding his hands behind his back. Clown was making a dramatic show to Vitalasy and Spepticle, who looked intrigued.
“I’ll play!” Spepticle exclaimed, passing Clown some diamonds. Vitalasy shrugged and did the same. Then he glanced at Branzy.
The fox hybrid nodded to him. “Branzy.” A greeting.
“Vitalasy.” The shorter man fixed a smile on his face. They weren’t exactly friends, ever since Branzy left the guild, but he had been the one to find out, and had kept his secrets.
Branzy could feel Clown’s gaze boring into him, they would definitely have to talk after this.
“Now,” Clown came to stand next to him, one hand resting on his shoulder. “Would you care to start the machine, Branzy?” He felt something being pressed into his palm, a cold metal hilt. It was the dagger that he had enchanted, the one that could steal hearts.
“Of course!” Branzy smiled, keeping up a cheery attitude as he tucked the knife up his sleeve, using his other hand to start the funhouse. He breathed in, he could do this, it went perfectly last time.
The two men started the course, with Spepticle throwing a few apprehensive glances in Branzy’s direction, which he pretended not to see. Vitalasy easily got wrapped up in the challenge, not waiting for his companion, who lagged behind.
Branzy stayed with Spepticle, partly because he wanted as much distance between him and the fox hybrid as possible, and partly because Spepticle was going to be the one he had to kill. The other man was a bit nervous, but he appeared to calm down after a while, relaxing after it seemed that Branzy was only there to commentate on his performance, and that Vitalasy seemed fine.
“Which one is the easiest?” They had reached the three doors, and Spepticle was examining them curiously, walking up to the middle one.
Branzy shrugged. “It’s not for me to say, but I would recommend doing that one first, it might make the other ones seem easier.” The other man nodded, humming thoughtfully. He pushed open the door, stepping into the room.
Spepticle let out a small gasp as he admired the shifting walls. Branzy took a breath, sliding the dagger out from his sleeve. The other man had his back turned, it was the perfect opportunity.
Branzy stepped forward, and Spepticle turned, his eyes widening. He raised the knife, driving it towards the other man’s back, but he turned and caught Branzy’s arm, throwing them both off balance, and sending them both tumbling into the pit.
Branzy cursed under his breath, letting his arm start to glow as he braced for impact. He rolled as he hit the ground, his enchantments saving him from any real damage, although it still hurt. Spepticle wasn’t as lucky, who landed on one of his legs with a cry of pain.
Branzy pushed himself to his feet, grip tightening on the dagger as he headed towards Spepticle, who pushed himself backwards. “C’mon Branzy, we can talk about this!” He exclaimed, voice rising in panic.
“Sorry Spep,” The other man stepped over, knife poised. “But you still owe me.” He drove the blade forward. Spepticle twisted, catching it with his arm and letting out a cry of pain as it sliced through his skin.
Branzy frowned, grabbing the other man’s arms with one hand jabbing the dagger at him again, where this time it landed directly in his chest. Spepticle tried to struggle, but it proved pointless as the life slowly drained out of him, seeping into the knife.
Branzy tugged the dagger out, his hands now covered in blood. He pulled down his sleeve, and pressed the tip of the blade into his arm, beneath his eighth heart. The knife glowed, and he could feel energy ripple through him as a ninth heart formed. He stared at it with giddy amazement.
“Nine.” Branzy jumped as a voice came from behind him. He spun around to find Clown standing behind him, mask cracked and costume bloodied. “Less than I expected.” His voice is a murmur. One of Clown’s hands lightly grasp his wrist, and Branzy let him trace a finger down the row of hearts.
“Did you get Vitalasy?” His voice falters a bit, but Clown doesn’t seem to notice. He drops Branzy’s arm.
“I did.” His voice has taken on a tone that the other man can’t exactly place, but he can tell Clown is smiling.
“I think, Branzy, this is the beginning of a very successful partnership.”