I looked down at Killer Clown, actually Connie Dee, 26 yr old white female, 5' 8" in height and a solid 140 lbs. She was strapped to a chair in the middle of the holding cell, naked and washed clean of makeup. Her breasts were a perky B cup and the hair on her pussy was dyed a distracting hot pink and orange to match the hair on her head.
"Carpet has to match the drapes you know." She piped up with a smile as she saw where I was looking. It wasn't the first thing she had said but it was consistent, she didn't care that she was naked and restrained in a bare room. It was just another Tuesday to her apparently.
"Sooooo, what is this place?" she asked politely. "I'm not getting jail vibes and it sure isn't Marhak unless they changed the admissions program. Is this one of those new 'boot camp' things I heard of because if so I want some kick ass boots."
The two armed guards standing behind me were silent, intimidating in their anonymity, at least to me but obviously not to her. I was wearing a lab coat and making notes on a clip board, playing the stereotypical role of the psychologist sent to analyze the mental patient. The clip board was covered in pointless scribbles as I used the distraction to try to work through her surface thoughts and emotions.
'He's kinda cute for a guy, maybe I won't mess up his face.' I heard in my mind. 'Wait until he approaches and kick him to the left. Spin to intercept the guard on the right when he moves to catch him and break his foot with the chair leg...'
It went on, scenario after scenario of how she was going to kill us like she was writing a grocery list. I probed deeper but the sound of the circus I encountered last time I was in her head blocked any further sensation. The interesting thing was that there was no anger, no animosity in her, just purpose. She just wanted to kill every man she encountered, I needed to figure out why.
I stepped forward and to the side, avoiding the kick that she had planned. 'Dammit, cute and smart.' She thought. I reached down to take her wrist just behind the cuff that held her arm pinned to the steel chair. On the pretense of taking her pulse I slid into her mind.
The circus was there, as chaotic and frenzied as I remembered. Lights flashed, bells rang, thoughts represented by faceless people rushed back and forth aimlessly. There was no flow, no structure, even the carnival games were scattered at random. I masked my appearance, faceless like the rest and moved through the chaos. There was one recurring theme, everything was related to violence. The target shooting game used a real machine gun, spraying bullets and destroying the booth only to have it re-appear intact as I approached. The water shooter used a flamethrower instead and exploded in a bonfire of heat then resumed its normal appearance only to do it again. Each stall was occupied by a man barking at the crowd, and each man had the same face.
He was about 30yrs old but looked older, his face creased with frown lines and stubbled with several days growth. His clothes were dirty, a work man's clothes, and his voice was hoarse and rough. 'Come try your luck, its about the only thing you are good at.' He grunted aimlessly 'Give it a shot, it's not like you have anything worth losing.'
I moved over to the big top tent and joined the surge of faceless thoughts pushing inside. The same man was there as the ring leader, using his whip to force sad animals through their acts and bellowing curses and threats with the same hoarse gravelly voice. A tiger snarled at him but was beaten down by several other versions of him with clubs until it rolled on the ground crying in pain. A bear shuffled along pushing a ball, ignoring the lash of the whip as if he was unable to react to anything anymore. The chaos of the crowd ignored the act, swirling around aimlessly but staying well clear of the three rings where the ringmaster held sway.
This isn't what I wanted, this is who she was and I need to find out what made her like this. I left the tent and moved to the edge of the carnival, where the shadows were lingering. I saw a light through the window of a trailer, not bright and flashing but yellow and warm. I walked over and heard muffled shouting coming through the thin metal walls.
'How the fuck am I supposed to eat this shit!' I recognized the rough voice and glanced in the window. He was there, sitting at a small table yelling at a scared woman as he swept a plate off onto the floor. 'I have been working all day and you have been sitting on your ass in this fucking trailer and this is the best you can come up with?' He stood up and the woman flinched, not moving but just stiffening for the blow she knew was coming. A loud slap and a soft suppressed grunt of pain as I expected. What I didn't expect was when the blows continued. A brutal beating on the helpless woman who took it as quietly and passively as the bear in the big top tent did. When he was done and the body was lying bleeding on the floor he called out.
'Connie, you had better be ready. Your show starts in 10 minutes.' He yelled and I saw Killer Clown walk out from the back of the trailer. It was Connie Dee alright, dressed as a circus clown very similar to the outfit she wore when we took her down. Her hair was in two pig tails, half orange half pink, and she was in full clown makeup. She walked through the small trailer, not purposefully or quickly but in a normal pace as if nothing had happened. She looked down at the woman lying on the floor, then lifted her hand. A gun appeared and she screamed a scream of pure fury and shot the man in the forehead.
Nothing happened, a hole appeared in his head but he remained standing then stalked over to where she stood and backhanded her hard across the face. 'You had better make them laugh, make them laugh until they puke understand?' he grunted.
'Sure dad, you can count on me' she replied in a perky voice and she stepped over her mother's bleeding body and headed out the door.
I pulled out and stepped back, only a few seconds had passed in the real world but I now understood somewhat why she was who she was. Connie Dee was killing men because she couldn't kill her father, at least not in her mind. So, what do I do with this? How can I make her not want to kill her father and correspondingly not want to kill any other men she meets? I wasn't being altruistic, she could sit here until she rotted for all I cared. Dan was the one who wanted a double payday which meant I needed to make Killer Clown useful somehow, make her marketable.
Shortly after I sat in the lounge, nursing a coffee as I tried to turn the situation over in my mind then looked up at Xin and Grace came in.
"Ben, when did you get here?" Xin blurted with exaggerated surprise, trying to pretend that nothing had happened last night and she was surprised to see me. Grace glanced at her, then at me, then frowned her now usual disapproving look. She had been an investigative reporter when we first met and knew full well what Xin thought of me. The charade didn't fool her at all, but she ignored it for Xin's sake.
Xin dashed over and hugged me, surreptitiously flicking her tongue over my ear. She was wearing her usual athleisure outfit of leggings, runners and a sports bra with a running jacket zipped up halfway. Her hair was in a ponytail and her lack of makeup made her look even younger if it was possible. She plopped down beside me and snuggled up, cuddling my arm.
"Whatcha workin' on? Whatcha thinking Brain Boy?" she blurted in her usual machine gun staccato voice. Fuck, that's it. I'm getting business cards with the name Mesmer on them before this gets too out of hand.
I sighed. "I'm trying to figure out Killer Clown. Her mind is a three-ring circus, literally and I can't think what to do with it." I replied. "There's too much chaos in there to even begin trying to fix it."
"Why not give her an injector collar like mine?" Xin chirped up helpfully. "This little beauty really works for me, thanks to you." She stroked the leather choker that circled her neck, gently touching the small injector box. Xin suffered from ADHD to the power of 100. Her mind ran as fast as her body and she was constantly fighting to keep her thoughts in order. The drug injector box that I had used to keep her metabolism from burning out the sedative needed to capture her had an added benefit of slowing her mind down to a manageable level. She didn't hate it, she loved me for giving it to her.
"Killer Clown is not you." I said patting her knee. "You were able to focus your thoughts when you needed to and wanted to get better. She doesn't, she thrives on the chaos."
