Midnight had fallen on the gray streets. It was a bustling city, but in this neighborhood, at this time of day, strolling around was the worst idea.

Neon signs flickered, someone in a neighboring high-rise building was cursing loudly, cats howled in a trash can in a back alley somewhere, and the thick smell of cheap tobacco and sour alcohol hung heavy outside the Black Rose night bar, as usual. It wasn't the best establishment, but it was quite popular among those who had no choice but to come here. And there were quite a few of them.

Not long ago, a circus had come to town and set up shop on a vast vacant lot where, years ago, they'd planned to build something but apparently embezzled the budget. Circus performers were rare here, so the colorful tents attracted a lot of attention, but with each passing day, that attention was increasingly dissipated by the daily grind.

Pierrot emerged smoothly from the darkness of one of the back alleys near the bar. He moved with an unnatural silence, his presence betrayed only by the faint but oddly unsettling ringing of the bells on his hat. He lowered his head when he felt something brush against his boot. It was a cat, surprisingly unafraid of him. Pierrot crouched down and reached out to pet the small animal, but at that moment an empty beer bottle flew at him, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Hey, clown! Entertain us!" a drunken man shouted mockingly from across the narrow street. His friends laughed, nodding along and enjoying the fun.

Pierrot didn't answer, merely watching the cat sadly, as it immediately fled when the can landed with a clang on the wet asphalt.

"Did you hear him? Come on, put on one of your shows!" the second man barked, more harshly.

Pierrot didn't utter a word, only rose to his feet.

He was starting to get a little nervous. He didn't want to get involved with people; he'd just finished handing out invitations. But it seemed the tipsy guys clearly wanted a fight, not a show, even though the clown was two heads taller than each of them.