“Tempest,” someone whispers. Or he thinks so, anyway.
He snaps his neck around, more alert now. His first thought is that it’s Pisces fucking with him. Then he thinks maybe he was just hearing remnants from a dream. As he begins to accept the latter, he hears it again.
It’s a whisper that seems to surround him and engulf him. It’s coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
He reaches for the gun on the nightstand and grips it tightly.
Gun, he thinks. I don’t own no gun.
Examining it carefully, he frowns. He points it into the darkness and pulls the trigger. Water shoots out onto his sheets and he giggles.
“Pisces,” he says with finality, and points the gun under his chin. He pulls the trigger with a grin, but this time the water he was expecting to stream out is replaced by fire. The bullet goes up through his mandible, his nasal cavity, into his brain, and exits out of the top of his skull.
“Ow,” he says casually, and doesn’t seem to notice the blood pouring from his face onto his sheets. He stands unorthodox from the bed. He sets the gun down shakily, missing the spot on the nightstand and the gun instead falls to the floor with a hollow thud.
“Tempest,” the voice whispers for a third time. And this time he can tell what direction it is coming from.
“My door was shut,” he says to no one. He always shuts his door when he goes to bed.
He can see red lights outside his room against the dirt walls of the labyrinth. He hears her honking laughter.
“Hiya!”
She’s peeking into his room. He realizes it isn’t Pisces at all. It’s the clown. They lock eyes and he drifts closer. She steps into the doorway, a tattered red and green sweater hanging loosely from her body. Her abdomen is barely covered, if at all. She laughs again, motioning with her razor fingertips for Tempest to come closer. He does.
“Closerrrrr,” she sing-songs as he hesitates. He’s faintly aware of his left eye beginning to bulge from its socket. Stupid gun.
She’s wearing clown face paint, but it seems to have melted to her face. Her skin bubbles, and yet she still smiles.
He inches closer, but it seems that with each step, his doorway became further away. She reaches out, her arm stretching unnaturally away from her body. He suddenly feels he must get to her, to touch her fingertips, to become sliced by them, mutilated by them. His eyes meet hers and he breaks into a run. Her laughter grows.
You put the laughter in Slaughter
Jaclyn Pierrot’s eyes shoot open. She breathes heavily and her clown face glistens with sweat. She sits up - the way he had looked into her soul shakes her to the core. She can still feel the blood on her hands and see those eyes.
Jeepers - those peepers!
Jacky falls back down onto her back.
“So hot,” she admits with a smile, biting her lip.
That haunting gaze...
She shivers. Jaclyn hadn’t thought of someone like that in a long time. Usually it’s wham, bam, see-ya-Sam with spray of bullets and a body, but there is something about him that she can’t quite shake. Something dangerous, disturbing…
“So hot!” she protests and shoves the blankets off of herself in a huff.
She takes in the room around her - standard hotel fare, complete with paintings aggressively nailed to the wall. The television across from her is wide and ancient and the wallpaper slowly crinkles itself off the drywall.
“Probably just one of those voices,” she resigns, rolling on her side, “but why can’t I get him out of my head?”
She sits up again, shoving the sheets aside, revealing she is wearing nothing but matching Spongebob Squarepants underwear. She shimmies over to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Maybe a cold shower.
She turns it on, feeling the temperature with her hand before taking off the rest of her clothing and stepping in, sliding the white curtain shut.
She is able to get her hair lathered when she looks at the door which is slowly being pushed open. There is a silhouette behind the curtain and she can make out the form of what looks like someone in a dress. They approach, and the curtain swings free. A person wearing a broken and bloodied mask and an ankle length dress stands in front of her with a large kitchen knife in his hand. They raise it to strike, their eyes intensely staring at her.
Those eyes!
“Oh yes!” she moans before the dagger begins plunging into her chest resulting in a spray of blood.
So hot.
Click…
Static…
Channel 13
The television screen flickers before revealing the interior of a pleasant, suburban home of the 1950’s. The intro to Helen Kane’s “I wanna be loved by you” begins, and the opening credits begin to flash slowly across the screen. A man in a dress, and a bloody, damaged mask, stands at the top of the stairs, and begins to kick his leg, stepping down each step meticulously as he does. His lipstick makes his lips look permanently puckered. Like Betty Boop. Helen Kane begins to sing, and Tempest begins to lip sync.
“I’m not one of the pretty kind.
All of my thoughts are simple.
I know what’s on my mind.
I’m not… resting until I find,
What would make your eyes glisten with joy.
Now listen… big boy.”
Tempest/Betty Boop gives a wink as he lifts his dress up to reveal a little more calf. An audience member whistles.
“I wanna be loved by you, just you.
And nobody else but-”
The music is interrupted by a slamming noise that grows in intensity from the door before a hole begins to splinter. The slamming is revealed to be an axe handle and after a few more swings, the face of Jaclyn Pierrot pops in.
“Jesus fuck, that’s harder than it looks!” she squeals, panting heavily.
The canned laughter spills over them as Tempest stares at her in what could at first be perceived as annoyance, but is actually only mild impatience. She continues to pant before he clears his throat.
“Oh right!” she says, “Heeeeere’s Jacky!”
Tempest nods and smiles, Jacky still grinning from the door.
Daedalus’s eyes blast open. He can hear the clatter downstairs. He sighs and rolls to his side, doing his best to ignore it. Something thuds, and glass shatters in the kitchen.
He throws the blanket off and slides his feet into his slippers. His hair sticks every which way, trembling as he stands and marches out of the bedroom to the top of the stairs. He can see them from here and groans, slowly stepping down to the first floor. He stops when he gets to the last step and glares at them-Jacky and Tempy rolling around on the kitchen floor, shards of glass sticking to their backs. Jacky’s driving a butcher knife into Tempy’s abdomen, while Tempy shoves a particularly large piece of glass into her shoulder.
“Gettin’ a little close to the jugular, aren’t you young man?” Daedalus says with his arms folded across his chest. Abruptly, the physicality of the exchange stops. But, the two immediately begin to protest, trying to get their side out louder than the other.
Jacky stands first, blood stained on her lace blue nightgown and a fishbowl on her head. Tempy, not far behind, slices the glass shard across Jacky’s achilles and she kneels immediately. He sticks his tongue out at her as he continues his protest.
“She said my dreams are stupid! She said my superhero name is stupid!”
“Jacky!” Daedalus exclaims. “He’s been working so hard on this idea, who are you to drag him down? Tempy, what was the name you came up with?”
“The Raven,” he says, sniffling childishly.
Daedalus pauses and chuckles.
“Okay, that is a stupid fuckin’ name.”
“Hey, fuck you!” Tempest screams.
“No, fuck you!” Jacky snorts with laughter, somewhat muffled by the bowl on her head as she drives the knife between his ribs.
“Ow,” he says, quickly pulling it out. His face contorts to complete devastation. “You’ve ruined my superhero outfit!”
The cardboard becomes darkened with his blood. He turns and poses, showing Daedalus the damage done.
“You mean stupidhero!” she retorts, sticking her tongue back out at him, “Tell him that astronauts are so much cooler!”
Daedalus looks Jacky over.
“The fishbowl is…”
“Stupid!” Tempest says, poking her in the chest. She yelps in pain.
“Ow! That was my tit, you stupid fuck!” she stabs at his crotch and Daedalus cautiously waves his hands in between the swiping blades.
“Whoa! Okay,” he said, pulling the blade from Jacky’s hand. He looks at the glass and grabs Tempest's wrist, shaking it until he releases it. The glass shatters on the kitchen floor. He places his hand on his hip, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Okay, tell me why you think each one is better.”
Immediately, the two begin trying to talk over one another but Daedalus yells over them.
“One at a time!”
Tempest looks cautiously at Jacky, who is looking at the blood dripping from his side. She smirks and winks at him.
“Superheroes are cooler because they have super powers you can use to get revenge on all of the people who were mean to you! The people like Eden Morgan, and Konrad Raab, the ‘High Society’ people who cast you out like a leper! And then when they see what you really are, they beg on their hands and their knees for your mercy…”
He looks at Jacky, his eyes moving to the corners of his sockets. She’s watching him closely as he continues.
“But you don’t give it to ‘em…”
He pauses and giggles.
“I mean, ya give it to ‘em. But not what they want you to give to ‘em.”
He grins at Jacky and makes a motion with his thumb across his throat, while making the sound effect with his tongue and teeth. He follows it up with a gagging sound and hangs his head to his chest. Jacky can’t help but laugh obnoxiously, clapping her hands with enthusiasm like she just saw an outstanding Broadway performance. Daedalus joins in the laughter and, when the studio is silent, glares at the audience members off screen.
Satisfied, Daedalus now looks at Jacky.
“Okay, now you.”
His eyes narrow. Tempest gives her an encouraging swat on the butt, leaving a bloody handprint on her nightgown. She snorts as she laughs, strolling casually in front of them, exaggerating her normal bouncing gait for dramatic effect. Jaclyn turns back to them, cotton candy pigtails flipping.
“Well,” she purrs, adjusting the fishbowl on her head, “Astronauts are so much more cooler, lemme tell you why. One word: space is a vacuum.”
Tempest counts on his fingers and starts to speak up but Daedalus waves him quiet.
“Here’s the problem with planetary existence: too many witnesses. Do you know the amount of threats and back alley shootings it takes to clean up after one little crime?” Daedalus and Tempest both now begin to consider and count. “In space, nobody hears you scream. Imagine - you and Shepard, alone. Space. He screams, ‘Nooooo, don’t kill me Tempy, I’ve got blorgablurgs to fight - STAB!’
She leaps towards her impromptu audience, pantomiming swinging an imaginary knife. They nod approvingly to one another and back to her, “STAB! STAB! STAB! You look around. No screaming. Nobody to chase down and say, ‘hey motherfucker! You tell anyone what you saw here and I’ll’ BANG!”
Jacky pantomimes being shocked she misfired her gun and shot the invisible witness. Daedalus begins to speak but the excited clown continues gleefully: “And the blood! All that delicious blood just floats in little driplets and droplets and you can dance, dance, dance while it’s warm without being interrupted...”
She closes her eyes and begins to shimmy around by herself. Tempest wastes no time in joining her, pulling her close. The two spin for a moment before he releases her. Jacky stumbles and crashes into the wall, fishbowl first.
“But,” Tempest interjects, “A Superhero called The Raven? Can paint his face white and black, and come back from the dead!”
“What?!” Jaclyn cackles, “that’s not The Raven! That’s The Crow!”
She doubles over and Tempest squints his eyes in thought.
“Oh,” he says. “Okay, well if you’re The Raven, you can become an omen! Oh! I know! How about a Superhero called The Omen!”
Jaclyn considers this, tapping her index finger against her chin. “Not bad!”
“And,” Tempest continues, grabbing Jacky’s blood-stained wrists and twirling her around, “Superheroes have no limits, no rules. They’re outlaws! Like us! You can’t say that about an astronaut! If you’re a Superhero, Knox can’t run away from you out of your jurisdiction. You just follow him wherever he goes, and get JUSTICE!”
Spinning around in circles, he finally lets go of Jacky’s wrists, but Tempest spins all the way into the corner of the kitchen counter. He leaves a blood stain where he touches, then bounces off and promptly falls flat on his butt. He folds his legs under him as he waits for the dizziness to wear off. She leans against the wall, breathing heavy, her golden eyes wild.
“Don’t you mean,” she bounces forward, fists on her hips, “Hashtag Justice?”
Daedalus covers his mouth to hide his smile. The jester pulls the fishbowl, which is now fogging up, off her head: “Hear me out!”
She takes a bound and leaps onto the island to stand above the two. Daedalus, who had been leaning against it, looks up at her leg. She pulls her nightgown closed, pushing him back gently with her foot - leaving behind bloodied toe prints on his forehead.
“Imagine. Space. You and an unknown entity. Deep in your heart you want to survive but you know in the back of your mind there’s something better than individuality: it’s conformity. A greater power, a hive mind, a collective. Something drives you towards it: the unknown,” Tempest has begun to pull himself up and Jacky kneels down on the counter, her hand gently guiding the back of his head as he rises, “It only takes the first contact and you know you were meant to be together.”
Her nails dig into the back of his head as she grips firmly.
“You only need to give in and you are the host of a collective consciousness. It’s mostly painless,” she whispers, biting her lip, “Your mind is many - your mind is all. Your mind is one. Why not beat them and then force them to join you?”
Jaclyn continues to pull Tempest towards her slowly. Daedalus clears his throat.
“Should I be here?”
Tempest’s head shoots up and Jaclyn tumbles off the counter, crashing onto the floor. They both look over in her direction, but she just begins to laugh once more.
“We are the Reavers!” she giggles, her head popping up once more to smile over at Daedalus, “We are many!”
Tempest grins, licking his lips.
“Well,” he says, watching Jaclyn assess her wounds thoughtfully, “I guess being an astronaut isn’t all that bad. But I still think being a Superhero is better.”
He looks up, pondering.
“Maybe not The Raven, though. Maybe The Raven can be the villain. And when you beat him to death, bringing a mallet down on his head, you tell him…”
He smiles, his eyes rolling wildly.
“Quoth the Raven, nevermore! SMASH! Quoth the Raven, nevermore! SMASH! Quoth the Raven, nevermore!”
He sets his eyes on Jaclyn, as speaks softly.
“And when he stops breathing… Quoth the Raven, nevermore.”
He grins wide, teeth stained a dark red. Jaclyn looks at his mouth and licks her lip. She offers her hand to him which he takes and pulls her up. To his surprise, she uses the momentum to leap up at him. They tumble into the counter and she holds him close.
“As much as I enjoy smashing things and Tempy, I do enjoy a good smashing, what if you were joined with a symbiote? You get to keep yourself and share in the powers of another?” she giggles and pushes him back. He pulls him with her and she prys his hand from her gown. Jacky took hold of his hand as she skipped around him, the shattered glass slashing at her feet, “You would be stronger. Faster. Nobody could stand in your way. What’s more - you’d get to see the stars and have the power you’ve dreamed. Nothing super…”
Jaclyn lets go and walks away, a trail of bloody prints and she leans against the doorframe.
“It’s just nature. Raw, powerful nature,” she flicks at the blood under her nails before looking back up to them, “Who can resist nature?”
She slides her hands behind her back and flashes her Cheshire grin. Tempest and Jacky lock eyes. Daedalus looks around himself before deciding to make use of the silence.
“Well, I think I’ve just about decided then.” he says resolutely, clasping his hands in front of him. After a moment, Tempest and Jacky turn his way. He smiles proudly, “I have decided...I prefer pirates.”
He turns on his heel and walks out of the kitchen. Daedalus stops in front of the closet, removing a pair of earmuffs and Tempest can be heard shouting after him: “I don’t really like pirates.”
There is a crash in the kitchen of something being thrown and breaking.
“How can you not like pirates?” Jacky wails.
Another loud crash and the two’s voices intertwine again. Daedalus' smile widens as he ascends the staircase, sliding the earmuffs over his head.
“Ah, the horrors of love.”