Somewhere hidden…
Stiven was sitting.
His head was covered with a hood.
He couldn't see anything.
He didn't know where he was.
He could only hear…
Footsteps.
Slow.
Echoing in the darkness.
Then—
—Well, Stiven…
—It's time to talk.
His body tensed.
He recognized that voice.
Fear ran through him instantly.
The hood was pulled off.
The light blinded him for a second.
When his eyes adjusted…
His face twisted in terror.
There were several clowns.
Surrounding him.
Watching him.
In silence.
One of them stepped forward.
—You'd better say everything.
Stiven swallowed hard.
—I… I'll tell you everything… please… don't kill me…
All the clowns nodded at the same time.
One of them even gave a thumbs up.
—Good… —said the clown in front of him— very good.
He leaned slightly forward.
—You see, Stiven… we want to put on a spectacular show.
He paused.
—For someone… who gave us the green light to do all this.
Stiven trembled.
—Do you understand?
—Y-yes… —he replied with a shaky voice.
The clown smiled behind the mask.
—Perfect.
His tone changed.
—Tell me the names of all the leaders of the organization.
Stiven fell silent.
The clowns stared at him.
No one moved.
—You don't want to talk…?
The clown raised his hand.
—That's fine.
—We can always do this another way.
One of the clowns, who hadn't moved until now, stepped forward.
He pulled out a knife.
The shine of the blade made Stiven's eyes widen.
He tried to speak.
Tried to scream.
But he couldn't.
His mouth wouldn't respond.
Magic.
The clown took the knife.
With one hand, he grabbed Stiven's face.
Forced him to look at his own hand.
Slowly spread his fingers apart.
—This game is called… Five Finger Fillet.
He tilted his head.
—I'm sure you've heard of it.
—And if not…
He smiled.
—You're about to learn… front row.
He raised the knife.
—Let's begin.
The first move was slow.
—Look… I'm nervous —the clown said mockingly— are you?
Stiven trembled.
—And I'm not even the one putting my hand down…
The knife came down.
Tap.
It grazed his skin.
A small cut.
Stiven screamed.
—Ahhh!
—Hey… —said the clown— it was just a scratch.
He leaned closer.
—Why are you so dramatic?
He paused.
—I didn't even take a finger…
His voice turned cold.
—But I can do that now.
The knife started moving faster.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
—AAAAAHHH!
Two fingers fell.
Blood spilled.
Stiven screamed uncontrollably.
The clown watched calmly.
—Well… sorry about that, Stiven.
He snapped his fingers.
The severed fingers moved.
Reattached.
As if nothing had happened.
Stiven froze.
—Now, Stiven…
He leaned in again.
—Do you want to talk?
A pause.
—Because if not…
—I'll take an arm.
—And put it back.
—So we can do it again.
And again.
And again.
Stiven broke down crying.
—I'll tell you everything!
—Good.
—I like that.
The clown straightened up.
—Tell me everything.
---
Somewhere else in the city…
Mike was in his apartment.
The bed creaked.
Heavy breathing filled the room.
—Smack!
—Smack!
—Smack!
Laughter.
Desire.
Excess.
Mike smiled.
He had money.
Power.
But it wasn't enough.
—I want more…
He let out a laugh.
—More…
After a while, he got up.
Walked to the balcony.
Looked over the city.
The lights.
The height.
A greedy smile formed on his face.
—All of this… will be mine.
He glanced back at the bed.
Frowned.
—I'll have to call another one…
He turned.
Went to the kitchen.
Opened the fridge.
Took out a beer.
Then—
—Mind giving me one?
Mike froze.
That voice…
Wasn't the woman's.
He slowly closed the fridge.
Turned his head.
A clown was sitting on a chair in his kitchen.
Watching him.
—Hello.
Mike couldn't believe it.
—I was going to greet you earlier…
The clown crossed his legs.
—But you were busy.
He placed a hand on his chest.
—And it's very rude to interrupt someone… during that kind of entertainment.
He stood up slowly.
—But now that you're done…
He stepped closer.
—I can continue with my business.
Mike took a step back.
—Who… are you…?
The clown tilted his head.
—Do you know your friend Stiven?
Mike tensed.
—I gave him a private show.
He paused.
—And you…
He smiled.
—You'll have yours.
The silence grew heavy.
—Before you ask…
He pointed at him.
—It's simple.
—I'm going to kidnap you.
—And you'll reunite with your friend.
He stepped closer.
—So if you have anything to do…
His voice turned cold.
—Do it quickly.
—I don't like waiting.
Mike clenched his teeth.
Anger replaced fear.
—You bastard…
He moved fast.
Pulled out a gun hidden in the kitchen.
Fired.
—Bang! Bang! Bang!
The clown moved.
The bullets didn't hit him.
Mike took the chance.
Ran toward his room.
—Shit!
He fired backward.
Trying to buy time.
But then—
Pain.
He fell hard to the ground.
Grit his teeth.
Turned to shoot.
A knife flew toward him.
It struck his weapon.
Destroying it.
—Hahaha…
The clown appeared in front of him.
—I'm sorry…
He crouched down.
—But like I said…
—I have better things to do.
Mike stared at him.
Frozen.
The clown mask…
Moved.
As if it were alive.
—Why so scared, Mike?
The clown tilted his head.
—I told you… you'd be with your friend.
Laughter echoed everywhere.
—Hahaha…
The world began to distort.
Mike's vision blurred.
—Good…
The clown's voice faded away.
—That's two…
A pause.
—More to go.
Darkness.
And then…
Silence.