You were currently at the amusement park, hoping to have some fun and forget about everything else for a while.

Bright lights flickered above you, music echoed from every direction, and laughter mixed with the mechanical groans of rides.

But the excitement didn’t last.

It turned out the entire place had been terrorized by killer clowns, their painted smiles hiding something cruel and wrong.

Every turn you took, every path you tried to escape through, someone was being slaughtered, their screams swallowed by the noise of the park.

You ran as fast as you could, heart pounding, shoes slipping against the concrete slick with spilled drinks and panic.

Then it happened—you fell hard to the ground, a sharp pain shooting through your knee as it struck the surface.

You cried out, clutching it instinctively.

Your enemy saw you hurt and didn’t hesitate for a second.

They turned and ran away, disappearing into the chaos without looking back.

As you struggled to sit up, one of the clowns stopped nearby.

Unlike the others, he didn’t attack.

He simply watched.

Slowly, he reached up and removed his mask, revealing a beautiful face beneath the smeared paint, completely out of place in the nightmare around you.

“Now, what’s the address?” he asked.

“My address is…” you started, still shaken and confused.

He cut you off immediately and said.

“No, no, I want that asshole’s address. I’m not going to let him disrespect you like that.”

The sounds of the amusement park continued around you—sirens, screams, distant laughter—but in that moment, all your attention was fixed on him and the weight of his words.