Jazz, Monster Collector in: Downtown Clowntown (Season One, Episode Three) Read online

around humans, maybe in prison, or maybe he’d been a servant. I was curious. “Yeah, I’m Jazz. You know what I do right?”

  He nodded, and looked at his injured hand. “Yeah, you hunt non-humans.”

  “Wrong, I kill monsters, especially ones that get in my way.”

  A furious grumble passed through his gang, but he barked them into silence. “I’m not here to fight, I want to hire you.”

  I laughed, I couldn’t help it, I was too tired to resist. “Yeah, right. If you think that’s going to make me lower my guard than you don’t know anything about me at all.”

  “I’m not trying to trick you,” he snapped, his anger slobbering over his words; Goblins always had such short fuses, that’s what got them the bad reputation. “I was looking for you.”

  I sized him up, he was hurt worse then the bullet I’d put through his hand, and his gang looked weary, weak, and half-starved. This was not normal for clowns who pretty much made the rules inside Clowntown. I holstered the gun and crossed my arms, setting my hands on the daggers hidden up my shirt’s puffy sleeves. “First off, if you want to hire me, call my secretary. Secondly, how could you be looking for me, I’m only here because some fly-jerks shot me down? I would never willingly come to Clowntown, so you’re lying.”

  Someone in the back growled, but we both ignored him. “Don’t be daft, you know I can’t call you, and even if I could you’d have never come. We heard about your tussle with the cranks over the nuralpod-network and came looking for you. We saw you burn that building down, and, frankly, we don’t take kindly to folks who damage our stuff.”

  “Yeah!” The skinny goblin in the leather armor punched himself in the chest-plate. “That’s what we get to do!”

  “Shut up you oaf!” The boss smacked the other in the back of the head, setting his helmet over his eyes.

  Looking offended, the struck clown uncovered his eyes and stared at his boots.

  The nuralpod-network, a multi-channel physic broadcasting system. Most of the city dwellers have tunable receivers installed in their heads. So one of these goblins either had a transmission converter, or, more likely, has a brain mounted until which meant it had definitely lived with humans; curiouser and curiouser. “If you saw me there, why didn’t you contact me then?”

  “Because I had to know it was you for sure. I figured we’d mix it up a little, make sure you were all we’d heard you were, but when you blundered inside the haunt, I figured I’d let the wraith prove your worth for me.”

  I smirked. “I never blunder, I seek, stalk, and slay. And you saw me walk out of there with my soul intact, doubt anyone else ever has. So, any lingering doubts, because I’d be more than happy to provide you with further evidence?”

  “Not necessary, you’re her. So, can I hire you?”

  I scratched my head and glanced at my watch. Aside from hating goblins, I was running out of time. I needed to get back to the office and scrub the not-now stone, but I had to play this out carefully. If I went along too willingly, they’d smell a rat and it’d be a fight that, not only would I probably loose, but would cost me way too much time. But if I played this too abjectly, then it’d be a fight again. I needed the middle path here. “This is a joke, right? Why would a monster hire a monster hunter?”

  “Forget your prejudices for a moment human, I have money, lots of money, do you want it or not?”

  I hated clowns. They were a wretched lot of misplaced goblins, trolls, and goons. Many of them were criminals that had escaped confinement, or were escapees from the monster containment camps. Some were runaway service providers, which was a comfortable way for society to say slave, which was something me and my gypsy brethren could identify with. Others simply had nowhere else to be. Many of the races, like the goblins, had such a genetically deep rooted need for violence they simply couldn’t meld within a civilized culture, and drifted to the outlands. Others still, the really, really chaotic creatures, survived in the wilds, which is why so little else did. The goblins and hobgoblins, having such a military nature, had formed ranks. In a thumbed nose gesture to the rest of Mirth’s inhabitants, they’d taken to painting their faces and doing everything in their power to mock the life around them.

  Have I mentioned that I hated clowns?

  But, like it or not, I had to deal with this lot. “Look clown, I don’t take most of the jobs that cross my desk because, much to my staff’s chagrin, I don’t covet money. I only take jobs I believe in, if you don’t know that than you don’t know me at all.”

  “I’d heard that, I just didn’t believe it. I thought all humans cared about was acquisition.”

  “Yeah, you’re mostly right.” Damn, I hated to agree with a goblin, especially one with a painted face. “What is this about?”

  “Hunters, they’re killing us, all of us, one by one.”

  “Who’s killing you?”

  “If I knew I’d kill them myself!” he shouted. “That’s why I’m hiring you, you idiot!”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Careful.”

  His eyes flashed back and forth from mine to his feet. “Sorry,” he grumbled.

  I’m impressed, it’s no easy thing for a goblin to apologize, this guy was scared, really scared.

  Then several of his troop’s heads snapped up, they’d heard something. There was growling, and goblin-speak, and weapons were drawn. I turned around, now side by side with the boss clown who’d drawn a long battleaxe that he brandished in his good hand. He stared down the darkened street.

  I cocked the revolver. “If this is a trick—”

  “It’s not!” he snapped in goblin.

  I trained my shadow-sight down the street, but goblins were just as good at seeing in the dark as me, and they could hear and smell a lot better. “What is it?” I whispered as his gang formed ranks behind us.

  “A machine, something strange, a foul smell, we don’t recognize it. Shh.” He held up his hand, the wound had almost stopped bleeding already, and listened, sniffing the air. “Someone’s coming, a woman, human, and alone. She’s heavily armed, gun oil and explosive devises.”

  “Yeah, well she’s dead!” another goblin spat, setting a large, automatic rifle to his armored shoulder.

  I uncocked the pistol and straightened up, relaxing my posture. “Relax. Tell your men to lower their weapons.”

  “No, it’s a trap,” another goblin said, blood lust was in his eyes.

  I glared at the boss clown. “She’s with me. Now, if you want me to work for you you’ll do as I say, do it now.”

  The boss clown looked from me to what lurked unseen in the dark ahead. “She’s with you?”

  I nodded.

  “Then tell her to show herself, and to drop her weapons.”

  I huffed. I hated taking orders from a filthy goblin, but I just wanted to be home. Besides, we were still vastly outnumbered. “I’ll meet you halfway.” Against the protests of the clown behind me, I walked several steps forward then called to the dark. “It’s OK DJ, I’m fine. You can come out now.”

  “Hey!” a high-pitched voice called back, “I was sneaking up. How did you know I was here?”

  I rolled my eyes. DJ still had much to learn. I hoped I could teach her before she got herself killed. “Just come out please, now.”

  I heard her kick something. “Fine.” Then my little shadow crept from the shadows and stood aiming a very large Robotusen personal mini-missile launcher and digital music player at the clowns. The big gun was as long as she was tall. She was in her ‘action’ jumpsuit, the red one with the black leg and arm stripes; she said it made her feel like a superhero. Her face was blanked out by the tinted visor of her color coordinated motorcycle helmet.

  The clowns made a cacophony of grunts, growls, curses, and gasps at sight of the weapon—that’s my DJ, she does love attention.

  “What is this?” boss clown, teeth clenched and legs trembling with surging energy, asked.

  “That’s my trusty sidekick. I’ll handle it,” I sa
id.

  “You’d better.”

  I eyed the big oaf. Seemed he was in no position to be threatening me, but I let it slide, committing the breach of etiquette to memory. “I’m fine DJ, you can lower the silo.”

  She shifted back and forth on her tall, red boots. “Come over here, come alone.” She sounded nervous, that, combined with her overprotective nature, could end with a lot of dead clowns. As I couldn’t see a down side, I walked away. A strong hand grabbed my arm and wrenched me to a stop. I glared back at the boss clown. “Leg go of my arm before I make you clown.”

  “I don’t trust you, this is a trap.”

  I laughed. “You’d be smart not to trust me, I certainly don’t trust you, but if I wanted you clowns dead, I’d have killed you already.

  He bared his fangs and growled deep in his throat, my chest rumbled with the vibration, but he saw my logic and shoved me back into motion. I held up my hands as I approached her. “DJ, lower the gun.”

  “Are…are you sure?” she asked, her high-pitched voice echoed inside the helmet.

  I stopped a few yards in front of her and set my hands on my hips. I deepened my voice. “Yes, I’m sure, now lower it, that’s an order.”

  She immediately lowered the weapon, resting the nozzle end on the street and circling her shoulder; apparently bearing the weight of it had been something of a strain for her. “Sorry boss, but that’s an awful lot of clowns you’re pal’n with over there.”

  I glanced back over m shoulder. “We’re certainly not pals, but they just might be clients.”

  “What?” her echoing shout got the clowns growling again.

  “Lose the helmet please.”

  “Oh yeah.” She unbuckled the chin strap and whipped the helmet off. Her long, black hair spilled out over her shoulders. “Are you sure you’re OK? I’ve been searching for you all day.”

  I still couldn’t get used to the thick, Brooklyn accent coming out of her petite Asian face. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Maybe you’re under a spell or something?”

  “I’m not under a spell,” I said, walking up to her and taking the mini-launcher. As I did I stepped into a shaft of moons light. I sometimes forget that everyone can’t see in the dark.

  DJ’s little face lit up, her brown eyes brightened as she looked me over. “Wow, your clothes are a mess, but you look great, better then ever in fact, are you exercising—” Her flying lips snapped shut, her eyes filled with understanding as her expression darkened. “You used the stone again, didn’t you?”

  “Ummm, yeah,” I said shortly. “Look, I need to deal with this. Did you bring the cycle?”

  “Yeah,” she said, visibly struggling to keep her lecture behind her perfect, white teeth.

  “Good. That gives us a way out of this wasteland.”

  DJ grimaced and sucked in air like she’d just stuck her foot in ice water.

  I felt my face droop. “What?”

  “Cranks. They’ve got a couple squadrons looking for you.”

  “Let me worry about that. Right now I need that clever brain of yours to figure a way to get the currently grounded Ship out of here and back to Nitstown undetected.”

  DJ’s dark eyes were unfocused; she wasn’t listening.

  “DJ! Come on now,” I shouted, clapping my hands together.

  Her head reeled back, but she still stared at me with the hazy gaze. “You shouldn’t have used the stone, you know it could backlash. It’s too unstable.” As she spoke, her upper lip rose up on one corner.

  “DJ!” I shouted louder than I intended to. “We’re standing in the middle of Clowntown, in the dark, and without allies. Let’s stay focused on getting us and Ship back home, then you can lecture me about backlash.”

  DJ shook her head and ran her eyes over the surrounding buildings, the broken glass, the demolished cars, and the crumbling sidewalk. “Yeah, you’re right.” She shrugged. “You’re always right.”

  “Forget right, let’s