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Fan Fiction

Posted By: Chuckles<chucklecity@yahoo.com>
Date: 27 June 2004, 6:16 PM

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The taste of blood, at first distracting, was now nauseating. Not that he could actually taste much anymore with a broken nose and split tongue, but the very thought of it turned his stomach. He would break soon; he would break and he would die.

"I am getting tired of your lies. And when I get tired, I get violent." It was the big one again. This tag-team questioning had gone on for two hours.

"Let's play a game. You like gaming, don't you Blade? Good. I'll ask the question and each time I get an answer I don't like I'll hit you. I'll hit you with such imagination and power that I guarantee this game won't go on very long. Ready? Let's play. Do you know a killer clown?"

He had to buy himself some time.

"Please! I need more information!"

"Wrong answer!" The big man struck and Blade nearly passed out from the pain. He does have quite an imaginaton. Focus. The next blow could kill.

"Please" he gasped, "You have told me nothing! Give me a name, information, anything! How can I answer if I don't know what you are asking?" The interrogators exchanged glances. The small one nodded and, to Blade's relief, began to speak.

"Twenty years ago, a nearly a third of Earth's armies fell under the leadership of a rogue leader, Tupolev. You remember, he took the area of the old USSR as his territory. By the time we were able to mount an attack, attacking was no longer an option. Turpolev had already gained a measure of respectability and was only months away from solidying his place as a global leader. We were certain that once he put down his only significant rebellion, ironically enough in Afghanistan, he would be absolutely secure. Something had to be done."

These guys are ONI!? What did Chuckles have to do with the ONI?

"Since sending in a military unit was not an option, we had to get creative. Fortunately we knew where to go: the circus. Clowning is the profession of choice for ex-Special Forces soldiers, and more specifically, for the only two SPARTANS to ever leave the military while still alive."

"We assembled a rogue unit comprised solely of ex-circus clowns. We called it Operation Bozo . It worked. Bozo became the most feared unit in the history of black ops. This is remarkable considering the fact that after a month in action, only two clowns were still alive. Hard to believe, isn't it?" Blade's reaction told his interrogators what they wanted to know. He was not surprised. He knew their clown.

"For several years they spread fear and death among Turpolev's troops. To the locals they became gods, spirits of deliverance. To the defecting soldiers they were demons. There was even a rumor that once an entire division refused to go into an area when it was learned that the Clowns were there. For my part, I believe it." They could see that their captive believed it as well. He was sealing his fate.

"Their mission proved successful. Turpolev lost his footing and his rebellion crumbled. Afterwards we lost track of the Clowns, but it is said that they made a living as highly paid assassins. This we also believe to be accurate. Several top political and military figures that were all but untouchable were, nevertheless, eliminated during that time."

"That brings us to why you are here. The records concerning our reaction to Turpolev's rebellion will be declassified in January of next year. We must have both the clowns in custody by then or Bozo could be revealed as an ONI unit. If you only knew the violence that these two visited upon Turpolev's troops, you could appreciate the outrage that such a revelation could bring."

The big one walked over and brought his face so close to Blade's that he could feel his breath as he spoke. "We have located one clown, but not the other, and in a way that scares us. You see, they always worked as a team. They would often leave one of them exposed, while the other waited to ambush whoever went for the bait. We know what they are capable of and refuse to do anything until the other is located. And THAT is precisely where you come in."

The big man pulled a pistol out of his belt and put it to Blade's temple. "Do you know a killer clown?"
"Yes! Yes I do. I'll talk!" All fight was gone now. He knew he was dead. Whether it came quickly at the hands of these two or slowly as payment for betrayal at the hands of Chuckles, he knew that it was all over. "His name is Chuckles. I know where he is."

The two of them looked disappointed, and then gave a humorless laugh. "We've already found Chuckles, you moron. He's kind of hard to miss."

"Then tell me! Tell me the name of the other one, and I will answer if I can!" They told him. Now, he knew his life was over.

On the other side of the world, in a small town, a father was tucking his children, an eight year old girl and seven year old boy, into bed. "Tell us a story, papa! Tell us a story!" they begged.

"What do you want to hear tonight?"

"Tell us about the Clowns papa!" his son answered.
"Clowns? What clowns are you talking about, Pavel?"
"The clowns from Afghanistan! Ivan told me about them at school. Chuckles and Lexicus! Papa? Papa! What is wrong?"
Boris Popov, ex-captain for Turpolev, his face whiter than a sheet, got up from the bed and turned off the light.

He wouldn't sleep tonight.
He wouldn't even close his eyes.