So there’s this game. Take a story and build upon it. The remix, on the other hand, says what’s the back story. What’s the prequel. What really led up to this character Joe the Clown. And leave out the Jar Jar Binks, or in this case, Victoria Powers.
The Very Beginning Part I/II: Despair
A fluorescent white haze spilled from the t.v. set while scintillas of steady vibrations danced upon the air and into the ears of a still figure sprawled on carpet. Arriving home from a late night walking along the dark spaces between tall, concrete skyscapers, Joe had arrived to the clamour of his neighbors raging into the dying, the dying of the light. Nothing left mattered.
Entering in his broken home and seeing naught but bleak prosperity of modern life, the t.v. set, the blu-ray player, the sofa, and the emptiness, Joe poured himself onto the carpet, the convergence shacking and rattling his bulbous form. His eyes, lingering on the antique white ceiling, transfixed farther behind onto another scene from the past.
Figures appeared–little and loud–parading around him. They pulled on his yellow and red poka-dotted shirt, calling out demands with visceral certainty. ”Rhinocerous!” one shrieked. ”No golem!” another backfired. His hand twisted and turned in incomprehensible positions before him, hastily bending the balloon to match their ever changing hearts. ”Gimmie, gimmie!” pounded into his ear, ever again, ever again.
But he could not give. And as his hands worked they begin to transform. His fingers turned round and peek, filled with nitrous air. They ballooned outward, squeaking against each other, and the little ones grabbed them between their tiny hands and pulled. He shrieked as a finger was yanked off, hissing as it flailed wildly, and flew towards the blue sky until, losing all force, hurdled into the ground. They cheered in excitement, rushing back to engage in their vicious joy.
Joe awoke. His face, sheathed in sweat, glistened in the white haze of the t.v. The air still vibrating with the rhythms of his neighbors. He turned onto his stomach, groaning at every twist. The night would be long, he knew, but in time it would be broken by another occasion. The space he occupied would be empty soon enough.
The rest of the story from previous assignments:
“Joe the clown was not a happy camper this morning. This was evidenced by the fact that he had put four lumps of sugar into his coffee, instead of the regular two. He only ever broke his two-sugars rule on special occasions, so going by that particular string of logic, this was a very special occasion indeed. Nevertheless Joe had little time to sulk, hunched over his kitchen table with remnants of buttered toast still clinging to the sides of his lips. And so it was that with a labored sigh he propped himself up off his seat and began the dreaded walk towards the front door, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a red rubber nose as he did so. He finished fixing the rubber implement on his own nose at about the same moment that his other hand fell on the cold, brass doorknob that led to the outside world. He paused for a moment, just a little longer than what he would usually allow himself (but this was a special occasion, remember). He then took a deep breath, turned the knob and stepped outside into the cold chilly morning air. It was time to have a word with the neighbours who had kept him up all night…”
The moment that Joe stepped over the threshold of his apartment, the blinds on his neighbor’s window quickly flicked shut. “He’s bound to head over here to complain.” Victoria assured herself as she tugged her black leather gloves so they fit ever more snugly upon her fingertips. Her eyes flicked from the window down to the floor, where the motionless figures of the home’s actual inhabitants were sprawled. She had only precious little time before the effects of the drugs wore off. She stepped gracefully but purposefully over their slumbering bodies as she moved on to the task at hand.
She quietly traversed the room until she was poised behind the front door. Reaching into the pocket of her coat she withdrew a rather large syringe, filled halfway with an opaque yellow liquid. She was both delicate and determined as she removed the cap and flicked the tip of the half-inch needle with the back of her gloved fingertips. A little pressure on the end of the syringe with her thumb forced a single droplet of liquid out of its tip. It was at this moment she heard Joe’s steps come to a halt on the other side door. The edges of her lips tugged upwards into a satisfied smirk.
In one swift motion the door swung open, and before the clown could react they were pressed up against one another. A passer-by could have mistaken this as an embrace from afar; Victoria, much shorter than Joe, looked like she had rushed into the arms of her lover. However, hidden betwixt their mashed up bodies her hand held and empty syringe, its needle buried deep into the clown’s chest. She wrapped her free arm around his back as his form slumped lifelessly onto hers, and dragged him into the home as the door shut behind them.”
The house, of late Victorian style, was quite bare on the inside. Contrary to the incredibly well maintained, lavish exterior of the house, the interior was surprisingly dull and bare. The first floor was quite open, partially exposing all the rooms except for the kitchen, which was, from the entrance of the house, completely obscured from sight. Immediately upon entering, one was first greeted with the sight of an ancient winding staircase that led up to the higher floors. Once inside, Victoria, with an unexpected strength, carried the limp, twitching clown up the stairs. As they ascended, the heavy door to the entrance slowly closed behind them.
After reaching the second floor, Victoria casually strode into the room directly in front of the stair case. Contradictory to the rest of the house, this large, spacious room was quite cluttered. Like stacks of paper, several bodies in piles of two littered the floor. Apparently accustomed to the sight, she proceeded to walk over to a single, lonesome looking creature and began to place the body of the unlucky performer she held, on top of it, in a most particular manner. After examining her seemingly dead captives on the floor, she became slightly irritated. Victoria, always in complete control of the situation, was deeply bothered by the scene before her. Something was wrong, but luckily she knew just what it was and how to fix it.
Slowly but surely she began to make her way back over to Joe the Clown. As the elegant figure reached the near lifeless lumps of flesh, she gracefully stretched her arm forward and plucked off Joe’s bright-red nose piece. After fingering it in her hand for just a moment, she tossed it callously into the far left corner of the room.
The visage of Joe the Clown without his signature cherry-colored snout, seemingly lifeless on the floor, pleased her greatly. Ready to move on to the next phase of her plan, she quickly exited the room just as she entered. Curious as one may be, to peer into her thoughts now, one would find the truth to this grisly reality.
The thought of several potential hosts for her “children” is what really made her shiver with joy. The yellow liquid injected into the chests of the victims, now coursing through their bodies, contained a single egg of a being that was not from this world. Unknown to the human incubators covering the floor, her terrifying plan was already underway with chance of little interference. Victoria’s curly, auburn hair bounced gently off her soft, supple cheeks as she further admired her victims, relishing the fate that she has brought them.