NaNo 2015

Posted: November 1, 2015 in Uncategorized

Hey! So, I decided I’m doing a bunch of Hell Bent-related short stories for NaNoWriMo this year. And I’ll share each one on here. Some might be good, others might suck. Also, the third book is finished, and I will be posting links to that once I’ve finished with the Kindle version. Anyway, the first story: Clownpocalypse.

Early morning… It was always Ivy’s least favorite time of any day. The streets were way too quiet, there was barely any natural light, and most damning of all, the liquor stores were not yet open, and the bars had closed until about noon. She needed her fuel, of course.

And of course, everyone else just had to be asleep at this hour. The only ones out at this time tended to be the crazies, she figured. But what did that say about her, if the only people out walking the streets at 3am were nuts?

Thinking about it, she just sort of shrugged it off. She knew she was some degree of crazy. Had to be, in her line of work. But she still wished it weren’t so damn quiet out this early. Quiet and lonely, with a chill in the air.

Her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, she continued toward the home she shared with Beast and Yvette. They were probably asleep right now, and Beast’s hearing could be incredibly sensitive. So, she’d have to sneak her way in there.

There was a sound that caused her to freeze mid-stride. A horrible sound… a veritable harbinger of doom.

It was a soft, drawn out “squeeeeeeeeeeek”…

Her turquoise eyes scanned the area, before narrowing. What in the fuck…

Nothing there. Odd.

Shrugging it off, she continued walking.

And seconds later, that horrible squeak cut through the air once more. She could feel her pulse racing already. Something was off. She knew it.

“Okay…” Ivy told herself. “Scanning time…”

She took a few breaths (and a swig from her favorite flask), and closed her eyes.

There were a few other life forms around there, but she couldn’t quite see them. Did someone spike her vodka or something? Ivy shook her head, getting back to walking.

And there was that squeak again. This time, however, it was accompanied by a little tune. It sounded like…calliope music? Yes, calliope music. In an all too familiar arrangement: circus music.

She wasn’t seriously hearing that, of all things, was she?

Okay, it was time to stop where she was and wait for her pursuer. If it was a fight they wanted, it was a fight they would get…

“C’mon out…” she growled, pounding a fist into the palm of her hand.

Silence for a moment.

“I said, COME! OUT!” she shouted, regardless of the people sleeping inside of the nearest apartment.

That squeaking resurfaced, along with the music. From a nearby alley rolled a tiny car. And in this case, “tiny” meant that it would come to the 5’2” assassin’s waist level. The tires were very soft, even while fully inflated. They squeaked when in motion. The music chimed from a speaker on the roof of the bright yellow/green/blue/pink vehicle. The hood was a stark white, contrasting with the rest of the colorful car. The hood ornament on this ride was a big red nose.

Ivy both shook and glared at the car in response. This thing was the epitome of evil. That nose, in particular, was never a sign of good things to come. She began to back away as the passenger side door creaked open.

An oversized red shoe stepped onto the sidewalk. The leg—clad in pink and yellow striped tights – followed. Attached to that was a pelvis, wearing overly large neon green shorts held up with red suspenders. The torso and chest were bare, save for what looked like pieces of a rainbow wig superglued to the clown’s chest like he’d fall apart without it. The entire face was painted with white greasepaint, a big unholy red abomination of a nose attached to his natural one. A flesh-colored bald cap covered his head, with little stray bits of rainbow hair glued to it. He smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and particularly bad bourbon. He had a large red frown painted on his face as opposed to a smile. This clown’s name? “Mr. Happy”.

Once Mr. Happy had emerged, five more clowns came piling out of the vehicle. All wore a variety of garish colors, each with their own big red nose. One had a pair of oversize gloves. One wore two pairs of clown shoes, one of which were on her hands. And Ivy didn’t want to know where the little one had pulled that balloon animal from. All she knew was that she didn’t want to touch it. Now matter how much he offered. Or in this case, tried to force it on her.

Ivy had never liked clowns. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, though. It could have been that grease paint, and how it made their faces paler than those she and her friends have had to target. Or it could have been those bulbous red noses, complete with that god-awful squeak. The shoes were too big for comfort. And those color combinations didn’t do anyone any favors. Yvette may have been the more fashion-forward of the twins…but even Ivy could see that these colors should not coexist in one outfit. Unless it was explicitly a rainbow…no.

The clowns began to advance on her. They weren’t seriously coming after her, were they…

She backed away, hissing at the clowns.

Her breath quickened, and she nearly tripped over her own feet as she backed up. In fact, there was a point at which she did and landed on her (somewhat sizeable) ass.

“You have precisely five seconds to back away…” she informed the clowns in a rather intimidating tone.

Or at least what she thought was intimidating. As it turned out, she’d squeaked that one out, causing her no shortage of humiliation. She cleared her throat, delivering the threat once more in a much less squeaky tone.

But the clowns didn’t back off. Like zombies, they continued toward her. After another deep breath or five, she began to focus on her surroundings . Still nobody there but her and the clowns…

But there was plenty of stuff just hanging around in the streets.

Plenty of weaponry.

And as she stared down these pursuers, Ivy came to one conclusion…

The Clownpocalypse was upon them all. And it was up to her to bring a stop to it.

The onslaught began when she focused on the clown car, lifting it into the air with her powers. At which point she launched it right at Mr. Happy, knocking him clear off his feet and into a nearby wall. A clown-sized, clown-shaped indentation was left in the brick wall.

The others pulled out various weapons, ranging from a comically oversized sledgehammer to a rubber chicken with little metal studs covering it. One of them had a gun and charged at Ivy, firing a shot right at her face.

From the barrel emerged a tiny flag, on which was the word “bang”.

Ivy’s response was to pick the clown up, toss her into the air, and let her drop wherever she happened to end up. As that one was airborne, Ivy’s powers ripped a fire hydrant from the street, and she threw it at another one. That clown was knocked curly purple afro-d head over oversized heels to the ground with a comical squeak.

Or it would have been comical to Ivy if the sound weren’t a great indicator of ultimate evil. The two clowns that were not well on their way to Hospitalization Land rushed her at the same time. . The one with the rubber chicken got close, swinging it at her face.

She took the hit, her cheekbone cracking slightly with the impact.

And all this did was piss her off further.

Her powers gripped him by the throat and she slammed him into the ground a few times, rage focused singularly on him. With a nearly inhuman roar, she threw him through someone’s window.

Panting, she was ready to stop…

But then the rubber squeaky hammer connected with her shoulder blade. That hurt way more than one would have expected, of course. This clown also seemed rather pleased with himself.

Up until she slowly turned to look at him. Anger burned in her large blue eyes. The hammer-wielder had no idea what hell he had wrought. What pain he had ushered upon himself. He backed up as Ivy stalked after him.

“I’m sorry…?” he squeaked.

The nearest trash can rose to greet him, helped along by Ivy’s powers. It slammed into his lower body and he was shoved into the trash can itself. At that point, the trash can was slammed into the nearest wall over and over and over again.

Ivy looked around the battlefield. She had done surprisingly minimal property damage, really. The last time she’d been attacked by clowns, an entire building had blown up. She had just managed to dodge a lawsuit. How she did that, she had no idea.

She continued along her way home, leaving the somehow still living clowns to groan in pain.

As she got to the apartment, Yvette waited for her in the living room. Her sister looked decidedly unhappy at the moment. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes narrowed.

“…What happened?”

Ivy blinked. “Why, whatever do you mean…?”

“I got a phone call from someone in the city, saying that you broke their window. Threw someone through it?”

“Oh. That. Yeah, I ran into some trouble… See, this clown car drove up…”

Yvette groaned. “Dammit, Ivy…not the renegade clowns again…”

“Yes, it WAS the renegade clowns again,” Ivy insisted. “Seriously, they were following me down the street. Did this woman say anything about the person that wound up in their living room?”

“Bedroom, and she did say that they were dressed as a clown…”

“See?! There’s proof!”

“It’s the first I’ve actually heard of a clown being involved in one of your little rampages. Did someone perhaps spike your vodka?”

“I doubt it. But there are renegade clowns that drive around late at night to terrorize people. That’s a pretty common fact.”

Yvette tilted her head to the side. “…It is?”

As Ivy continued to argue her point, Yvette merely threw her hands up and went back to bed. She’d deal with this after more sleep.

Ivy looked outside. She knew there were more of them out there. And the moment they got on her bad side…

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