Chapter Text
Harsh wind blows in ClownPierce's face as he walks into what seems to be a bar. The night is young, and she wonders in her domain, stalking him out of his body. This town is new for him, for he decided it was finally time to find an another harbor. Living as a nomad, it was his way of surviving in this world, occasionally taking bounties on various beasts roaming around. And oh, he was thriving.
Escaping night before she finally gets him locked in her cold arms, jester adjusts his mask and walks into the tavern. A bunch of drunk idiots on his left, a pair dancing, lost their mind in buzzing sweet venom on his left. Those people disgust him, the show everything rotten they have inside to everyone. But hell, it wasn't rational to always think about how you dislike someone, so he just goes away, thankful that his mask doesn't let the smell go through.
The girl behind the bartender's table was mixing someone's drink, so Clown approached slowly, humming a forgotten tune. The barmaid, easily realizing what he was up to, probably by his leather clothing, scoff armor and weaponry on his side, just waved to the side, where the board with different bounties hanged. He started closely examining it, looking for the next goal. Some of them were people, some of them were lost things, but most of them were monsters. This world was filled with witchery and monstrosities, but in most places there were only a few actually terrorizing people, most of them just lived outside villages, rarely even "visiting" folks. Farms and distant houses were the places they usually could be seen in.
They weren't even scaring humans, most of them were just attracted by food and shelter. Of course, it was dangerous to have a monster of any kind as your guest, but it wasn't more dangerous than having an another person. They were something between a man and an animal. Clown has met many of them – werewolves, witches, demons and living dead. Personally, he didn't feel hatred for them, as he didn't think of himself as a human really. But it was his job, his main source of income and, well, fun.
Staring at the board, something caught his sight. An old, rehung many, many times, yellow paper. «A terrible monster terrorizes a local redstone factory. 5 silver ones for the brave one, who kills it». It was in terrible condition, probably already hanging here for a decade or so. The way it was written was weird and alluring at the same time, so he leaned to read it clearer.
It didn't offer a lot, but honestly, Clown stopped caring about the money – the thing that made him a hunter in the first place – a long, long time ago. Now, he just craved the thrill. The adrenaline that filled his blood each time an arrow shot him, or as his victim started running away. It was something that actually kept him alive, that gave him a sense to it all, a key to this cruel world, where he felt like a king, like it was made for him, or that he fit in perfectly, either way it was his.
«Don't even think about doing this one if you want to still be walking this land alive by tomorrow's evening» – an old man man, who noticed how jester was looking at that paper, said.
He slowly tilted his head, now analyzing the strange man. The scars on his face and the way his voice rattled hinting that maybe he was a hunter too.
«Anyone who tried taking them down failed. It was lucky if the body was even found. The company keeps sending new workers there and then complains about that thing that keeps killing them!» – now it just felt like a tattle about a bad company policy, but Clown kept listening, and now, after sipping on his alcohol, continued – «I mean, man, if you really want to try your luck, go ahead, it's the one on the west of this town. God, you kids are fearless now, ha-ha..»
Clown didn't answer to him. The old factory on the west, factory on the west..
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
The next morning he was already standing outside the factory from the paper. It was, surprisingly, located away from the center of the town he was staying in. It was surrounded by shabby houses, probably abandoned by their owners when this «demon» settled in. The factory itself was beautiful, a tall building of dark polished slate with pillars and frames of oxidized copper, giving it a lovely contrast of black and marine-green, and, if it weren't haunted by that monster and were properly taken care of, it would probably be a town attraction and some fraud would get a ton of money just by showing it to the outsiders. Checking for his axe once more, he stepped into the factory finally.
Inside it didn't really look like a monster's home should. It was exactly the opposite – the corridor, supposedly leading to the main room of the factory, was clear, empty even. Nothing but a bunch of cobwebs and dust on the floor. A strange sense, his gut told Clown to turn around suddenly while he was looking around – and it was right – right behind him was standing a pale young man, around his age or older by a few years or so, holding a long piece of metal above his head, disturbed while he was aiming for Clown's head.
The man flinched when he saw that jester actually noticed him and very nervously said:
«He-e-e-y.. you're.. not an intruder, right?»
«What if I am?»
The unsettling calmness in Clown's tone must have scared him because the man started stuttering and slowly put his "weapon" down.
«Um.. Well, in that case you should.. should leave probably?»
«Why?»
«Well, you see.. there's actually a really scary monster, um, living here, and it might kill you.. and all» – he chuckled.
«Then what are you doing here?» – Clown continued serenely.
«Well-.. I just work here and uh, forgot something.. important,»
«I see.»
And with that Clown started walking farther into the corridor, with this weird guy catching up to him, and if he wasn't trying to chatter with the hunter, he would actually be noiseless, because his movements were completely silent.
«Wait!! Hey, maybe.. maybe we should go there together? Don't really want to.. be alone here, ha-ha?»
«You can follow me, just do not try to hit me with a pipe again.»
«Man, i just– i just thought you were that..that monster! With your mask and.. and maybe.. maybe I'll just stop.. talking now..»
Clown didn't argue with that. He was often mistaken for a devil by people, and that was one of the reasons he didn't stay long in one place. One of many reasons. He also didn't argue with that the man right beside him should stop talking. Speaking of which.. Clown kept staring, examining him. His skin was unnaturally white, and the way it covered his bones, showing and highlighting each one, and every gap, was drawing his attention. He looked as pretty and fragile as a porcelain doll. And his clothes were completely out of fashion. Clown too liked the older style, but that was a bit too old even for him. A shirt with layered sleeves and a puffy color, topped with a violet vest that he could swear was glowing. Overall, this man was artificial. He was looking to the side, avoiding eye contact, but still probably felt the hunter staring him down.
«Um..what's your name?» – Branzy asked all of a sudden.
«Why do you want to know my name?» – Clown wasn't a fan of small talks, or any talks in general, so the excessive interest in him the assassin found was quite annoying.
«I just thought– we should know each other names.. I'm BranzyCraft, by the way..»
«Well, BranzyCraft,» – he stopped before a door in the end of the corridor – «you don't get to know my name.»
«Oh. Then I'll just call you Jester, i guess..»
Branzy's voice gets quieter as they walk into a spacious rooms with tall ceiling and something resembling a pedestal in the center of it. The creepy spirit was haunting it, but they didn't actually see the monster, or its traces at least. Something was wrong – if the beast was really living here, it'd be a mess. But no, it's disturbingly clean (ignoring the dust in the air). Clown noticed a poster and after swiping the mix of dash and redstone it appeared to be a «motivational picture». The poster pictured a man in a gas mask with a pickaxe in one hand and a lever in the other, standing on a pile of redstone with a quote underneath «Take precautions!» and a date, about 60 years back from today's.
«Yeah, workers used to be working without masks and getting terrible medical conditions. It's lucky that you have a mask.» – he giggled, with his hand over his, and for some reason it looked so sincere out of place and magical Clown gazed at him. And, just for a second they locked an eye contact, before Branzy looks away flustered, for some reason.
«Ha-ah.. i think.. i think it was this way..»
Clown stopped him in the middle of trying to run away. He put one of his hands before Branzy. It has always amused him seeing others be frightened by him. Maybe it was his terrifying aura, or his shining axe, or is voice, but in a moment the guy was looking all afraid and reddened, as jester asked:
«Now, BranzyCraft, I have a question.»
«Um.. what is it???» – Branzy swallowed.
«You say that this factory is being terrorized by a "monster", so why are you still working here?»
«Well, i think.. the monster around here is not causing any trouble usually, but it really despises outsiders, so every time they kinda.. forget it's here? So they send new people and they keep dying,» – he smiled briefly, his eyes unfocused, like he was thinking about something else – «Besides, this place still works well. Those corporations only want money, you know?» – then he notices Clown gaze again, and looked away.
Clown wasn't a factory worker, or a corporation leader, so he just proceeded, and behind his back he could actually hear the very quiet sigh of relief, that sounded more like a little chirp.
The silence and this weird unfamiliar tension made Clown forget his target for a brief moment. He was quickly reminded of it though, because now they've walked into a workplace, or what used to be it. 3 bodies were scattered across the room in a quite "creative" way, and, judging by their condition, they have been here for Angel knows how long and Clown again was thankful that he couldn't sense smells. He and Branzy just stood in a door way, starring. The first worker was stuck in a redstone machine, with its head smashed to pieces by a piston, dried up blood and rotten flesh mixed up with a rusty system almost indistinguishable from each other. The second corpse was hanging up on a table and it was unclear why they died, but the most interesting was the third body, if you could even call this pile of meat pieces a body. The monster must have a very, very unique taste in killing.
«U-um, looks like another work accident..» –Branzy chuckled.
And then he weightlessly hoped over the chunks of corpses to walk across the room. His movements once again were ethereal, not real, it's like he was levitating, reminding Clown of both a bird and a bunny at the same time.
«Let's get going, Jester!» – as Clown has been brought back to earth with this line, he couldn't stop but... thinking about this guy. Why? It was the first time in his life when he thought about someone so thoroughly.
He smiled again, breaking his afraid and nervous persona once things got bloody again. Branzy was like a puzzle, and it wasn't clear what his deal was. Clown hummed as he slowly walked to the opposite part of the room, to the door that led to a storage room. It was filled to the brim with chests, full of redstone, stone, and other machinery tools Clown didn't know the name of. The interior was meager, as there were nothing else, except for a giant – and by that he means absolutely ginormous – chandelier that seemed so out of place it attracted his attention. Who would even put a chandelier in a storage room?
«They have a weird designer, I know..» – like reading his thoughts, Branzy said in a demonizing tone, before hoping up to the one of the chests and digging into it, looking for something.
That's when Clown noticed a small button next to Branzy's hand. His intuition suddenly went up to him, screaming «It's a trap!!!!!!», shaking his shoulders in terror. And well, who else he could trust? So he moves a little bit farther away from this chandelier, right before Branzy clicks the button and it falls down with a loud thud and sound of glass breaking. But he doesn't flinch at all, just standing there for a few second before actually turning and noticing that Clown was just a meter away from being crushed by the lamp, his eyes clearly showing surprising, and, for a second, a bit of impression. A mix of emotion has stuck to his face: both annoyance terror, which he was very bad at hiding, before turning around and acting like everything was normal.
«Oh.. Phew! SO lucky it didn't hurt you, Jester! Don't know what I would do if you got hit by that.. lamp..»
«Yeah, don't know what I would do either.» – he answered teasingly.
Now, Clown wasn't an idiot. Branzy, the man standing right before him, was a fraud, trying to get rid of jester the whole time. Everything about him wasn't right: the oddly weightless movements, his speech, the way his curls flowed unnaturally nicely every time he was making up his lies on the fly, covering his face with his arm, and maybe that last one wasn't so important, it all pointed to the truth – the truth about him not being a human. The truth he was trying so hard to hide, fooling the assassin all the way here, except for that he was awful at it, and now they both just waited for the moment all facades can be torn down.
And Branzy was getting desperate to put Clown down, because now his mask starts slipping and he doesn't cover the malicious intent he has when he jumps to the door in order to block the way out, throwing around his sweet, sweet words.
«Well, I got that thing i was looking for, let's get out now! But before that..» – he swallowed with a nervous laugh as he saw Clown grab the handle of one of his knives.
The next second a knife is stuck in the wall right near his head, and he starts escaping in panic. Oh, Clown was waiting for that. Finally, no need to pretend, to play along. Now it's just a hunter and it's prey.
The assassin sprinted, chasing Branzy through the door. Overstepping the remains, he quickly aimed another of his throwing knives for Branzy's chest. It squeaked when it saw the weapon flying to him, escaping it moments before it would hit him. And by that time the jester had already jumped to him with his sword. Branzy, sweating, it rapidly grabbed the sword that was swung at him, and ran to the center of the factory, a spacious battle filed. With stolen sword in its hands, he stopped sticking to the ground and no longer was hiding his nature, as his body flew up, it was now clear who he is. An allay.
Branzy might have had an advantage of being able to float, but Clown was way more skilled and fast, and it didn't took him long to catch up. It was fair to say that it tried its best, dealing some damage, but most of his hits missed just because of sheer anxiety and shock of holding something so heavy – it's just swung the knife up and down, not being able to aim normally. Clown, on the other hand..
He, the hunter, just slowly approached, having his victim cornered and messed up, laughing. Oh Angel, that feeling! That inspiring, burning feeling inside his chest! He felt he might fly himself now, just how intense and overcoming it was! While Branzy was trying to catch his breath, Clown just hummed the very same tune, but now it made him feel a bit funny for some reason, not like it mattered, because he didn't focus on it, but on his prey, who's sight kept following that favorite axe of his.
Branzy tried attacking back, flying all over the room, but Clown always was on his tail. Its wings were moving nervously, shivering, which did not play to its favor.
«Come on wings, please.. Oh, Angel.. please..» – it mumbled under its nose.
«You don't need to pray honey, that dead brat won't save you now!» – Clown shouted playfully across the room, making Branzy whimper.
Now jester was just playing, like a cat plays with his half-alive caught mouse, throwing it up in the air. The allay was slowly getting tired, and he started coming down slowly over the time, the sound of metal fading. And then, in its most vulnerable moment Clown suddenly jumped with his axe ready to deal the final blow, but the creature quickly hung up his sword at the last moment, getting them both stuck in each other reach of attacking. Panting, Clown held his axe up to Branzy's neck, and grinned under his mask.
«Name one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now.»
The allay seemed so shocked with this question, a silent "what?" present in his beautiful eyes. Quickly, it said the first thing on its mind.
«B-because I'm.. pretty???»
«Eh, fair enough.»
«Wait, really?»
«No.»
Branzy lowered his weapon for a second and it was the most crucial decision he made, because right after it Clown has pinned it to the wall, it dropping the knife out of shock, and now one hand was wrapped around his neck and the second was threatening him with an axe. It seemed like the result was obvious, but then the allay became serious, shifting the tone of his voice, looking right where jester's eyes were-
«Jester, oh, i can see it by the way that you talk and fight, you're not from around here– and, Angel, you have no idea what you've got yourself into. You may think you're the best, don't you? But those creature around here, they're not the same.. You're lucky that I was your first encounter,» – he caught up on his breath, still not breaking the eye contact, – «and look.. how about a deal? I help you on your hunting duty, and you leave this factory and never touch it again, um..»
Clown's eyes squinted. An ally? How funny. Having a second pair of eyes in this land could be useful, then again, who does this spirit think he is? Clown could just end him here.
And then Clown made the most irrational decision in his whole life.
He put down the weapon.
Branzy dropped to the ground, and ClownPierce backed away, giving him space. As he watched it struggle in disbelief, he couldn't help but smile, not grin, but genuinely smile.
«It's a deal, then.»