The Killer Clown of Hotel Persylvania

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The sun rose in the distance, lighting up the night like a bright star in a dark stormy sky. It reflected off Darius' helmet shield, making his shadow that fell across his face dance and sway along the side of his tank. On this mission he was accompanied by three other riders, though only Truze, a fellow sergeant, was present in the cramped confines of the fighting compartment. In the distance he could see the outline of the enemy looming in front of them as they came closer. A row of buildings turned out to be just low mountains with narrow passages between them, or so they had seemed on the reconnaissance photos. The ground shook as the Leopard tank, named Black Hawk One, came to a stop. Darius looked connected to the mission as he and Truze clambered out of the tank and hoisted themselves up the steep slopes. He had been a soldier for almost a year now and said he could always tell a good mission just by looking at the terrain. After the initial shake of dust had died down, Truze pulled his trench knife from its sheath on his belt and began to unscrew the gas cans from their brackets. They would need to make their way from the tanks to the buildings he knew as the target. One by one the unconscious enemy troopers were pushed out of the way by Truze. Many of them would not live to wake up again. Truze simply did not care.

Darius drew his sword as they entered the labyrinthine passages between the buildings. The tank behind them fired into the mass of troopers huddled together in the narrow passage. A trooper who was further ahead of the others turned with a rocket launcher in his hands. The dark building the trooper was in front of exploded in a shower of dust and metal as the blast reverberated down the line of buildings. Tracers of laser-guided missiles made their way towards the tank but were shot down by Black Hawk Two.

"Truze!" Darius shouted as the two of them entered the building. Truze had broken his neck in the explosion and was lying on his side, shaking his head, looking like he was having trouble lifting his right leg and it wasn't the gas. He was steadying the gas cans in his other hand as Darius fell to his knees next to him.

"No no no no no," Truze muttered as he reached out towards Darius with his other hand. Darius leaned his arm towards his friend, taking the gas can from Truze's shaking hand and opening one of the valves near the top. The smell of gasoline was strong in the air and Truze's eyes grew wide as he took a deep breath. Darius handed him the other gas can as Truze screwed the other one back on to tank. A scuffling noise further down the line of buildings caught their attention. Something heavy was being dragged across the floor. "That shouldn't be – " Truze started, his voice shaking. He began to cough and hacked into his hand.

A trooper wearing a black trench coat, with a black top hat, mask, and a razor in necklace appeared from around the corner. He was dragging Truze's flame tank behind him and was dragging it by the strap attached to the barrel. His foot steps were heavy as they approached.

"Alright then, let's get this done," Darius said as he pushed Truze forward. The dragging footsteps came closer as Darius whipped his sword out and let it loose. The trooper fell with a grunt as the blade buried itself into his chest. He toppled backwards; his hat fell off and his mask came undone. A pretty face with the smell of gasoline and motor oil on it revealed itself. Red hair and large and slender eyes surrounded by red make-up greeted Darius' own green, yet slightly droopy eyes. Two wide red marks stained the white of Red's cheeks.

"Why'd you have to go and do that, darling?" Red's high pitched voice said with a British accent. She leaned forward and rested her head on Darius' chest. "I'm so tired..."

"Eh, what?" Darius said as he looked down at the strange girl.