The bells above the door jingled merrily as Kristoffer stepped into the cozy little cafe. But the quaint environs were a sharp contrast to the gnawing in his gut. He’d been dreading this interaction since the call came in just before his match at Warfare. But now there was no escaping it. His last vestige of hope that maybe the other would no show was squelched when he caught sight of him sitting in a corner booth.

Corey Smith.

With a sigh Kristoffer made his way over and slid into the booth with an awkward “Hey.”

Corey was nursing a mug of coffee, which he was looking at instead of Kristoffer. “Hey yourself.”

A stark pause rose up between them until Kris broke it.

“So….”

“You’re going to make up for getting Lux killed by helping me find Samael.”

Kris snorted. “Wow, so right into it like that, huh?”

“Yeah.” Corey looked up at Kris pointedly. “Like that.”

This was going to be one long cup of coffee.

ELSEWHERE, NOT FAR AWAY….

A children’s birthday party was in full swing. Parents watched their little ones enjoying various games and entertainments. A clown was in the midst of it all twisting balloon animals together and offering them to waiting little hands.

But then, something in the air changed. A spark. An electricity. A young girl’s hair went straight up, and when a boy started looking at her, and then pointing and laughing, she mean mugged him and slapped him on the shoulder. But before an over protective parent could intervene, someone, or someTHING, appeared in the center of the room amidst a cage of arcing electricity. Parents scooped up their children in fear. The clown backed off, looking shocked.

The pops and strikes of electricity soon died down and the being that had suddenly appeared before them stood erect. And erect was certainly the word for it. Because he was also naked, and a number of prying eyes went straight to his genitals. Noticing the glares, the well muscled and very nude clown spat out, “What, you’ve never seen a clown penis before?!”

“Mommy I’m scared of it!” a child wailed.

One mother tilted her head to the side in confusion as she beheld the clowny ding dong. “I…I don’t understand…”

“Bah! You there! Give me your clown suit!” the hulking clown ordered. The party clown started to strip down without delay as the party guests made for the exits in terror!

BACK TO THE CAFE…..

“You know, you’re leaving a heaping pile of shit at my doorstep for somebody who himself wasn’t even with Lux when she died!” Kris retorted, lowering his voice towards the end as he started to take note of prying eyes.

Corey grimaced. “I would have been right there with her if she’d allowed me to be. I wanted to help her, but she left without me knowing.”

“Oh, so it was okay for the vampire to go on the suicide attack against Samael and all his goons, but not the great Corey Smith. I gotcha.”

“She picked YOU because you worked for him for years, not because you were expendable, you idiot.” Corey spat back.

Kris sat back in his seat, shooting a look to the side before refocusing on Corey. “Look, maybe we should lower the temperature here a bit.” A pause. “I’m sorry Lux died. Truly. But that demon or whatevere the fuck went after Matty, and I couldn’t jeopardize his life anymore than I already had. Surely you understand that?”

Corey’s eyes flicked down to the table as Kris’ words hit home. It was tough to argue against the impulse to protect a child. He returned his glance to Kris, but it was something just beyond their booth and the cafe itself that ultimately stole Corey’s attention.

The young man’s eyes narrowed. “Is that….?”

Kris shook his head, a tad irritated that it seemed like his point was going to be ignored. “Is what?”

“Is that a big beefy clown hanging out just outside the cafe….?”

“A…clown?” A shiver ran down Kris’ spine. A fucking clown? What was a fucking clown doing….


Kris turned around in his seat, just in time to see the muscular clown raise a massive rainbow colored minigun and aim it through the large glass window of the cafe. Kris eyes shot open, wide as saucers. “Jesus Christ! EVERYBODY TAKE COVER!”

The minigun roared to life just past the window and Kris grabbed Corey by the collar and dragged him behind their booth. Corey, babbling something about not knowing what the fuck was going on, complied nonetheless. However, many of the other patrons hadn’t yet noticed the clown, so Kris screamed again, “GET DOWN!”

The massive gun started spitting a hail of bright red bullets through the glass, shattering it and turning the cute cafe into an instant war zone. The bullets struck both flesh and wood with an inexplicable playful HONK on impact. But the ammunition was no joke! Blood splattered everywhere as the rounds seared through bodies, dropping patrons where they stood. But no sooner had their bodies hit the ground than did cute pastel flowers spring up from the wounds. The clown unleashed a second torrent of bullets and Kris forced Corey’s head towards the ground as the onslaught chipped away at the booth they were hiding behind, showering them with shards of wooden shrapnel.

The clown finally stopped firing and stepped through the broken glass and into the cafe.

“Kristoffer Arroyo, are you still alive?” the clown asked.

Kris at first said nothing. The clown then leveled the massive gun at a huddling pile of survivors just across the way. “If I find out you're alive and not answering me, I’ll shoot these people instead!”

Corey looked up at Kris with an expression rife with shock and despondence. Kris gulped and spoke up. “Yeah….yeah….I’m still alive. Look man, if you want me you can have me. Just don’t hurt anyone else, okay?”

“Stand up!”

“Kris, don’t!” Corey hissed. But Kris ignored him, raising his hands above his head and vacating his hiding spot. Corey watched him go, still looking shocked.

“Ah, there you are!”

“This isn’t very clowny of you. I thought clowns were supposed to make people happy?”

“Well, I’m not like other clowns. I’m the clown they send in when we need to take care of business. TERMINATOR CLOWN!”

Kris stood stock still, hands still in the air as he spoke. “If this is about me beating up those clowns in the past I have to say this seems like a bit of an overreaction.”

“It’s not just that!” Terminator Clown hollered. “I come from the future!”

“Of course you do.”

“Shut up!” the mad clown jangled his minigun.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. So you come from the future. Talk to me. What’s your story?”

“I come from a future where you defeated Television Clown for the TV Championship, a future where you beat clowns in combat three times! THREE TIMES!”

“So I gather you’re upset about that.”

“Upset? UPSET?! You turned all of clown society on its head, beating us over and over again. Our clown government became obsessed with studying you, trying to figure out how you keep winning. We became so obsessed that everything else fell by the wayside! EVERYTHING! Clown society crumbled! Clown children starved in the clowny streets, forced to eat their own whoopie cushions just to survive! Have you ever heard a clown child let out a BRONX CHEER as a death rattle?! HAVE YOU?! Because God knows I have!”

“Wow…okay….this is a lot to unpack. You’re saying I caused the downfall of clown civilization just by beating you guys over and over?” Kris paused. “I don’t know what to say, man. I certainly don’t want clown children dying by choking on whoopie cushions. How do we make this right?”

“WE don’t make anything right. YOU make this right….BY DYING!”

The clown levels his minigun at Kris again. The nearby survivors start screaming in terror! Kris winces and closes his eyes, knowing the end must be near.

“Hey bozo, suck on this!” Corey stands up from behind the cover, leveling a handgun at Terminator Clown. He pops off a few shots, all of which hit their clowny target!

“OW! HONK! SHIT! HONK! THAT HURTS!” Terminator Clown bellows (and honks) juking backwards as the bullets thunk into his torso. He drops the minigun and plunges back out the busted cafe door. Kris wheels around to face Corey.

“You’re armed?!”

“Concealed carry motherfucker. You think I wouldn’t be given the craziness of our lives?”

“Geez, do you vote Republican too?”

Corey flips Kris off as Kris looks back towards the door and the escaping Terminator Clown.

“I’ve gotta finish this.”

“Go. I’ll do what I can to help here.”

Kris stepped through the shattered door of the cafe, following Terminator Clown’s blood trail into the street. There, traffic has ground to a halt as the massive clown stands in the middle of the street brandishing two machetes! Kris breaths a sigh of relief when he hears the sound of emergency responder sirens in the distance as well.

The vampire steadies himself and steps up to the clown.

“You’ve hurt enough people! Stand down!”

“I’ll stand down after you die choking on your own blood vampire scum!”

Kris eyes the massive machetes and knows there’s no way this ends well for him. I have to stall for the cops. “We don’t have to fight. We can handle this peacefully.”

Terminator Clown puts on his clowny thinking face. For about 5 seconds. “Nah. You’re dead!” The clown takes a menacing step towards Kris.

Fuuuuuuuck!

Suddenly, in a flash of arcing electricity, another form appears in between them! It’s a nude clown with a lean chiseled torso. Pretty attractive by clown standards, Kris had to admit. The nude clown stands up and levels a futuristic looking gun at Terminator Clown, firing off a shot that imbeds itself in Terminator Clown’s skull. The bullet then makes a slide whistle sound before exploding, popping the killer clown’s head like a gore filled water balloon! Kris stands in shock for a moment, before calm washes over him. He turns to the nude newcomer clown.

“Holy shit that was close. I owe you my life! (Never thought I’d be saying that to a clown).”

The naked clown turns to Kris, and despite himself Kris’ eyes settle on the clown’s dong.

“I’m Kyle Reese Clown. I’ve come from the future to stop Terminator Clown. And I….uhhhh….have.” A pause. “Are you looking at my junk?”

“I’m sorry man I’m just trying to figure out your situation down there, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What, you’ve never seen a clown penis before? Get over it.”

Kris forces himself to meet Kyle Reese Clown’s gaze. “I really appreciate your help. But I still have a problem. According to Terminator Clown me beating Television Clown at Warfare destroys your entire society. And my personal feelings about clowns aside, I don’t want to be responsible for clowny children starving to death.”

“Oh that?” Kyle Reese Clown scoffs. “That was all bullshit.”

Kris looks askance at Kyle Reese Clown before speaking. “I….I’m sorry….WHAT?”

“Cyberclown Industries made all that up. It was all a joke, a funny, a game, a jape!”

Kris points a shuddering hand back at the cafe. “BUT PEOPLE DIED! I ALMOST DIED! And you’re telling me it was all for a gag?!”

“Cyberclown Industries has a very dark sense of humor. That’s why I’m leading the resistance against them. They really make us look bad. I mean, dark humor has a place and all, but….”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

Kris collapses into a seating position in the middle of the street holding his head in shock and anger.

“Hey, would you be interested in helping me produce a new chosen one to lead the resistance against Cyberclown Industries in a dark, foreboding future? We just have to boink, but don’t worry I’m a gentle lover.”

“We’re both men! How would that even work?!”

“Huh. And I thought you vampire types were more forward thinking than that.” Kyle Reese Clown looks up as the police sirens sound like they’re getting closer. “Hey man, I gotta scoot. But if you ever change your mind, give me a call.” He pulls out a toy phone from….Jesus, I don’t even want to think about where….and hands it to Kris.

“Yeah, I’m not touching that.”

“Suit yourself.”

With that, electricity sparkles around Kyle Reese Clown and he disappears into the future once more.

…..

“Goddammit I hate clowns!”

A LITTLE LATER….

We see Kris and Corey sitting on the back of an ambulance, each with a blanket draped around them as EMT’s and cops race about trying to make sense of the chaos.

“Goddammit I hate clowns!” Kris mutters again.

“Yes, we’ve established that with the last 13 times you’ve made that statement.” Corey watches the EMT’s for a moment. “Although I can’t really say that I blame you.”

“But I really, REALLY hate clowns! Did you know that fucker asked to mate with me?”

“You mean the killy clown or the vaguely sexy clown?”

“The sexy one! I mean, the NOT sexy one! No clowns are sexy!”

“You know, minus the make up he might not have been that bad.”

“He wanted to put a clown baby in me.”

“SNRKT!” Corey hides his face as he chokes back a laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Kris retorts. He then turns his gaze to the all seeing eye of the camera. “Corey might think this is funny, but I don’t! Clowns have been running roughshod all over my life lately. First a vampire clown threatened Matty (no apparent relation to the vampire clown I beat some months back). And now I almost just got gunned down by a Terminator Clown from the future! I am SICK to DEATH of clowns. And to make matters worse now I have to fight a clown for the THIRD TIME if I want to win the Television Championship.

Although, I have to admit, this is partially my fault. I demanded opportunities and now I’ve got one. And all I had to do was brutalize that half pint mush mouth Deena Hixx to do it. Which kinda says more about the XWF than it does about me, if you think about it.

But at any rate, I got the title opportunity I demanded. And maybe it’s not the XWF’s fault that Garisha went wolf tits up against the latest joke competitor du jour.

Seriously though Garisha…what the FUCK?!”

Kris pauses and takes a breath, shrugging off his blanket and tossing it back into the ambulance.

“So I imagine I’m dealing with a particularly confident clown right now. After all, homeboy just took out a legit werewolf. To say nothing of the fact that werewolves are completely inferior to vampires in every way. Check it.

Werewolves are only werewolves when there’s a full moon. Whereas vampires are vampires all the time.

Werewolves stink like wet dog, whereas vampire grooming is utterly impeccable.

Werewolves talk like stilted Eurotrash hillbillies no matter where they’re from but vampires talk in the most sultry, dulcet tones imaginable.

Okay, I might have made that last one up and maybe it was just Garisha who spoke like an illiterate hick but come on, it has SOME plausibility."

“You’re being very mean to werewolves.” Corey cuts in.

“So what?”

“I was one hundo percent Team Jacob I’ll have you know.”

“Great, so you pined after a steroid addled 17 year old. Good for you.”

“Hey back then we were both underage!”

“Save it for the hidden cameras on To Catch A Predator.”

Corey scowls and sticks his tongue out at Kris, who naturally pays him no mind.

“You know what though, I’ve got a deceptively high amount riding on this match. After all, like I said, I told the XWF and the world that I deserved more. That I deserved better than the doldrums of being some night two/match one curtain jerker. That my Anarchy Title win wasn’t just because of my War Games team and that my Anarchy Tag Title reign wasn’t just because I was paired with a veteran.

I told the world that I EARNED that shit and earned the respect put on my name that came with it.

Of course, the other side of the coin is that I need to back it up….or look like a colossal asshole in the process.

That’s where you come in Television Clown. Not the asshole part. Okay, well, kind of the asshole part. But moreover the part where you drew the short straw after I spent the last two weeks dropping my nuts on the table and telling management I wasn’t some jabroni they could dick around with at their leisure. In short, I have something to PROVE this week. I need to put my money where my mouth is and show the powers that be that I have the talent and staying power to be a future legend in this company.

And nowhere in that scenario does losing to a literal fucking clown factor in.

So yeah, there’s pressure. And yeah, I’m feelin’ it for sure. But I’m over 300 years old, clown. I don’t wilt under pressure. It ENLIVENS me. It motivates me. It….”

“I think it’s funny that you said something enlivens you when you’re not technically alive.”

Kris shot Corey a deadpan stare. “Are ya done?”

“I’ll think about it!”

Kris looks back to the camera. “Anyway, as I was saying, the pressure I put on myself is all the motivation I need to rip that red clown nose off your face and shove it so far up your ass you choke on it.”

“But if allllll that wasn’t enough motivation, you yourself gave me EVEN MORE. You love doing that hacky shit where you directly quote your opponent so hey, back at ya!”

Quote:”Because Clowns only win when winning is funny.”

“Remember that? Yeah, well, I wholly admit that you beating me would be pretty goddamn funny. A true bon mot for the ages. I mean, beating the guy who has gone on record multiple times as saying he hates clowns, right after he demanded a title shot and told the world he was hot shit? That’s a good one!

And that’s why it ain’t gonna happen.

Because I outright refuse to be the butt of some gimmick in its eleventh hour’s idea of a fucking joke.

I’m just better than that. I’ve stood toe to toe with outright legends. That pretty new Top 50 we just got? I’ve got dubs over numbers 3 and 25, and a pinfall on 14 at War Games. And the reason the pain train stops at just those three is because I never had the pleasure of breaking my foot off in any of the others.

But hey, you still got that win over the B-tier of monsterdom, so that’s pretty good, right?”

Kris laughs. Ohhhh, you HATE IT.

“You’re a hack. You’ll probably come at me with some tired vampire jokes like everybody else hasn’t already barked up that tree and still gotten their shit pushed in. Like that’s all that defines me. Like that’s the sum total of who I am when you’re literally named after the title you just won. Talk about a shtick with a limited run time. What happens when Television Clown is sans Television Title? Answer! You piss off back to clown planet or what the fuck ever like all those grease painted failures who preceded you. Heh, and you had the gall to say Garisha was one note? Oh hunty, apparently clowns don’t believe in mirrors!

Face it, with this title around my cute little waist I am perfectly poised to prove that my talents didn’t leave me when I walked from Anarchy around the corner to Warfare. Guys with multiple more years of dedicated ring time than me would give their right nuts up rather than face me, but I’m the one eating a loss from a fucking clown? Not in this or any other life time. This match is CLUTCH for me. That kind of integral moment in a man’s career that defines what dreams may come henceforth. And for anyone to think that I’m giving that up to some bow tie tugging, seltzer water spraying, one match into his “career” having paragon of absolute zip dip NOTHING is absolutely psychotic.

You’re the goddamned Television Clown?

WELL I’M GODDAMNED KRISTOFFER ARROYO!

The man who stuffed Charlie Nickles down a chimney.

The man who beat legend in training Dickie Watson.

The man who barely two months into his tenure beat out most of the roster in War Games.

The man who in over a year has just four losses to his name.

And I’ll be GOD FUCKING DAMNED if you make number five.

So in conclusion, I’d tell you to shine the shit up for me but I really don’t want your greasy hands on it. So kindly put on those kid gloves when you hand me what is rightfully mine and then proceed henceforth to fuck off back to whatever circus backwater you call a home and leave Warfare in the confident hands of people who actually belong there!”

Kristoffer looks back at Corey.

“You got anything else?”

Corey, wide eyed, shakes his head “no”.

“Nah man, that was pretty good. Strong. Real strong. Kinda hot too if we’re being honest….”

Kris narrows his eyes.

“Not sure if serious….”

Corey chuckles. “Kidding! Kidding.” But something about his tone suggests that maybe he wasn’t. Kris cants his head a bit but decides not to plunge down that rabbit hole. “Look man, I don’t hate you…..I just….just….” Corey trails off, looking away again as his eyes start to mist over.

“She was your friend.”

“She was my BEST friend. Hell, we shared the same body. How does it get any closer?”

Kris nods. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Thank you.” Corey runs a forearm across his eyes, dispelling that tears that were threatening to drop. He looks back at Kris. “But I gotta ask, will you help me with this? Will you help me track down Samael?”

Kris pauses to consider the query for a moment before answering. “Samael has earned my anger a thousand times over. He deserves a final death. But I gotta make sure Matty is safe first. I’m not putting him in danger again.”

“Of course. I’d never ask you to do that.”

“Do you have any idea where Samael is?”

Corey lets out a short sardonic bark of a laugh. “Heh. No clue. But assholes that big can’t be THAT hard to find.”

“Right.” Kris playfully leans over and runs a shoulder into Corey’s. “We’ll get it done.”

The shot pans up and away from our duo, and travels miles and miles away, across the country until it lands in an office set deep within the confines of a rival pro wrestling company. A man named Hardkore Jonnie Valentine slides a contract across a table, into the waiting grabby hands of none other than Samael Dyson.

Samael reads the name splayed out at the top of the document.

Hardkore World.

With a sinister leer he clicks the pen in his hand and puts it to the paper, signing his name in lavish swirling strokes.