JO KING (cackling) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-11-16 16:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | maximilian kerr |
WHO. Maximilian Kerr and his clowned companions.
WHAT. Camelot has something Max wants.
WHERE. A Camelot cell far off from its Castle.
WHEN. Wednesday evening.
WARNINGS. Boom.
Clown Three. "Come one," he said, a skip in the toes of both his shoes. The guard whipped upright, pointing the gun directly between the eyes of the clown. He possessed one job. To protect. He would see it through to the end, wouldn't he? Good boy. The clown reached down to grab something. The guard's gun went BANG! The guard's gun was too late. "Come all!" He screamed hoarsely, topping it off with a laugh so frantic it could be heard even after his body imploded from the inside out. The devoted guard went into the oblivion with Clown Three and the remaining two simply smiled at the sight of flames blowing through the evening. The music began again. Louder this time. Blood plip-plopped from the guiding light. Moments passed and several clowns, colors and dangerous grim grins passed through the chunk and inside of what was once Camelot's to own. In the middle of the small crowd he came dressed in his best. He stretched out his hands, wrists conducting the eerie crooning as he stepped past rubble and a cloud of destruction. "Well, gee," he spoke aloud, nudging the tip of his boot into the charred remains of the dead guard, "one little clown and this guy falls right to pieces." His tongue dragged across the red on his bottom lip and he inhaled thickly through his nostrils. Inside the cell was just as disappointing as the outside. All the king's soldiers and all the king's men were being kept against their will. Trapped like blind mice. He frowned, but his mouth grinned. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, kids of all ages," clowns ran to work, violence spewing itself across the ground as they made quick work of leading every man and woman at attention to the "You are about to witness the greatest show on earth." Every single clown went fast to work to release the prisoners of war. War. This wasn't war. It was pest control. Two children fighting over a toy they both wanted for their very own. He pranced through those making a run for the exit and the clowns that let them free until he reached precisely who he'd arrived for. A fat clown had been attempting to release her, but he kicked him to the side and watched him scatter across the floor and far away from the spectacle. He bared his yellow teeth, freeing the princess from her long-awaited tower. He spoke not a word. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he grabbed her by the arm, linking an elbow through a loop and dragged her towards the exit. Without waiting for the remaining inhabitants to make their leave, he removed something from a deep purple pocket and pressed the big, bright, brick-red button in the center. Beep. Beep. Beep. An explosion shot up from every side of the cell. The aftermath touched the tails of his coat, but he continued onward, bringing his harlequin along for the ride and into the deep, dwelling darkness of the day's end. Flames touched the sky. Rubble sat in place. Bodies with smiling faces no longer did his bidding. The night was quiet. |