Chapter 18 – The Punchline
Ronnie hit the mud.
She didn't stop running; she slid. Knees digging into the slush, she turned herself into a projectile, coming in low under the Strongman's guard.
He was massive. A wall of muscle and bad intent.
She didn't aim for his legs. He was too thick, like an oak tree.
She aimed for his grip.
As he strained to lift the boulder, his wrists were exposed. Tendons taut. Veins bulging.
Ronnie slashed.
SLICE.
The sound was like tearing silk.
Her dagger carved a deep red line across both of the Strongman's wrists.
Tendons parted. Blood sprayed hot and red, painting the side of the gray boulder.
The Strongman roared.
It was a sound of pure confusion. His grip failed instantly. His hands became useless meat.
The boulder slipped from his bloody fingers.
Gravity took over.
CRUNCH.
The massive stone slammed back downright onto the Strongman's own toes.
"AAAAHHH!"
The scream tore through the forest. The giant hopped on one foot, howling, clutching his mangled hands to his chest, unable to even hold his crushed foot.
Ronnie didn't stop to admire her work.
She rolled to her feet, spinning with the momentum.
She lashed out with her chain. The steel links whipped around the Strongman's thick neck.
She jumped.
She landed on his back, locking her legs around his waist like a vice.
"Ride the pony!" the Ringmaster cackled from above, seemingly enjoying his own henchman's pain more than the fight itself.
The Strongman thrashed. He tried to reach back to grab her, but his hands flopped uselessly. His fingers hung limp, bleeding and severed.
Ronnie tightened the choke. She leaned close to his ear. Her hair was matted with mud, her face streaked with blood.
"Act Three is the finale," she hissed. "You son of a bitch."
She pulled the pin on the flash bomb with her teeth and spat it into the mud.
She didn't throw it.
She shoved the bomb down the back of the Strongman's leopard-print singlet.
Then she kicked off his back and dove into the mud, covering her head.
"Fire in the hole!"
BOOM.
The explosion was muffled by the Strongman's massive body, but the effect was devastating.
His singlet blew apart. The concussion wave snapped his spine with a sound like a dry branch breaking.
The Strongman arched backward, his eyes going wide with shock.
Then, he collapsed face-first into the dirt like a felled tree.
He didn't move again.
Smoke rose from his back. The smell of burnt flesh mixed with the sickly sweet scent of cotton candy.
Ronnie lay in the mud, panting. Her ears rang with a high-pitched whine.
She looked up.
The Ringmaster wasn't clapping anymore.
He stood by the tree now. His orange was forgotten on the ground. His porcelain mask was still smiling, but his body posture was stiff.
"You killed the talent," the Ringmaster said coldly.
The playfulness was gone. The madness remained, but it had turned sharp.
"Good help is so hard to find these days."
He stepped away from the tree.
He grew.
Not physically, but his presence expanded. The shadows around him lengthened, turning into jagged claws that scraped against the reality of the forest.
"I suppose," the Ringmaster whispered, raising his baton, "I'll have to close the show myself."