She should not have strayed from the main roads this close to nightfall. She took a shortcut then dodged a drunk down another alleyway. A slight detour, no big deal. Then she turned the corner into these riffraff skulking about. She immediately started backing away and turned to quickly retrace her path. That was enough to spur them on to give chase.
They knew the path to the main road and cut off her return. Now she ran through the dark alleys, completely and utterly lost. Her pursuers doggedly corralled her, occasionally whooping and hooting. In moments she was trapped with no escape. She clutched a knife to her chest and backed into a corner as they appeared. The men surrounded her. Lawless hooligans and pickpockets. To call them gangsters would be giving them too much credit. These were merely opportunists, not practitioners of organized crime.
They approached her slowly, amused by her defenses.
She pointed her knife at them defiantly, her hand slightly shaking.
One of them stepped forward quickly. She slashed at him but he grabbed her hand and wrested the knife from her grasp.
He pushed her back against the wall.
"You look lost, little lamb. Do you need help finding your way home?"
He mugged to his companions and they dutifully laughed.
"Oh come on, that's not even a joke," came a voice from behind them.
The miscreants whirled around to find a lone character lying on his side comfortably in the middle of the alley, his head propped up on one arm. He wore the outfit of a jester, a court comedian and entertainer. Checkered pantaloons and a bright red and black tunic. Cheerful bells dangled from the tips of his floppy tapering cap and the ends of his oversized pointed shoes. But that was where the similarities ended as the figure possessed a face that was not human. Facepaint could account for the pallid complexion, but nothing could excuse the unnatural rictus that spread ear to ear across his face in permanent amusement. No stage trickery could explain the eyes that burned as eerie light within pools of shadow.
"You could have said,'I'm scumbag number three, knife to meet you.' " The jester suggested. "Or maybe,'I know i'm just a degenerate sleazeball stiletto me introduce myself.' "
The two closest goons rushed at him. The clown merely held one finger up and waved it. Their charge was halted as two toy popboxes appeared near the harlequin and burst open, the puppets within bearing resemblance to the prankster's own horrifying countenance
The thugs jerked spastically as the dolls fired countless gleaming spikes into their bodies. As they crumpled and succumbed to their injuries the jester rose to his feet and approached the others.
"Everywhere I go people are just dying to meet me," he shrugged. "As a favor I give you my name. I am Shaco, defender of peace and champion of justice."
"He's just one guy," the apparent leader shouted. "Get him!"
Again the clown raised a finger and waggled it at them. Three of the goons surrounded him and charged in at once plunging their knives into his body over and over.
"I'll offer you a tip," the jester was standing against a wall casually flipping a dagger and observing the attack. "Best way to kill a clown is go straight for the juggler."
The thugs pulled off too late as the simulacrum between them exploded, hurtling vicious shrapnel into their faces. They staggered and writhed and the clown walked amongst them, twisting his dagger into their backs.
"I don't know why these toys stop working when I wind them," he cackled gleefully.
And now there were only two of the hoodlums left.
"I want one of you to kill the other," said Shaco.
He waited expectantly.
The one remaining accomplice turned to his leader and sank his blade into his heart. The leader's eyes bulged in disbelief before fluttering as he slumped to the ground.
Shaco's smile grew even wider.
"You actually did it. I have never gotten that to work before," said the jester. The clown addressed the lady, "Only one more to kill then we can have you on your way, little miss."
"What? I did what you asked," the remaining man sputtered. "You're supposed to let me go!"
"I don't remember making that deal," said Shaco.
He walked slowly towards the man flipping his dagger menacingly in his hand.
The thug came to his senses and bolted.
Shaco called out to him, "You can't go that way, it's a dead end."
He threw his knife and stuck it into the ruffian's back. The villain spilled onto the street. On his stomach he clawed and scrabbled a few paces before expiring.
"Ironically, trying to run wasn't completely pointless," said Shaco.
The jester straightened up, dusting his pants off theatrically.
"Well I guess you have quite the story to tell now," he began. "Helpless damsel in distress saved by valiant hero jester."
He puffed his chest out and strode towards the alley exit, kicking his legs up high and and pumping his arms as he marched.
"I hope you'll recall how gallant and noble I was," he continued. "Make sure you tell them I was bold and chivalrous. Remember how courageous and selfless I was to disregard my own safety and answer the call of a poor defenseless maiden."
"Although..." He stopped suddenly mid-stride, leg outstretched.
Pivoting completely on one leg he stood to face the girl once more. The smile was gone. His solemn expression somehow far worse than his perpetual delight.
"I don't remember you laughing at any of my jokes."
The demon jester pulled out a dagger and flipped it menacingly as he slowly walked back to the girl.
