A Hot Rod

"Alright, take good care of yourself," you waved Jenny goodbye and warned, "don't easily trust strangers."

Jenny just nodded at your advice, thinking that it's really ironic how a 'stranger' saved her.

Normally, she would've asked if she could see him again. Being her savior and all, but her instincts kept telling her that he's up to no good.

She had enough psychopaths in her life.

She dropped you off somewhere where there's actual civilization. Bustling with people, and the smell of so oh garbage and shit!

Jenny would probably go straight to the police station and report the cannibal living in the middle of nowhere. We shouldn't really call it living since you know— head chopped.

Well, everything will be out in the pan eventually.

You lit a new cigarette and inhaled the sweet taste of death, packed inside this 8-millimeter stick.

Rendering you with lung cancer in about 3 decades.

Hours and hours of making the farmer's house squeaky clean paid off, you got yourself about a hundred bucks and a bunch of things that will keep you alive for a few days.

"Fuck, can't I just give myself up for adoption?"

Jihn chuckled at your statement, "I'm sorry, mon ami but no one's willing enough to bring a nutcase inside their houses," pointing at your head, "and you're too old for that shit."

You mean, not cute enough.

Also, you can't really kill as much as you like when you're confined with a so-called 'family'.

Endangering someone for your own selfish needs isn't exactly in your book.

"So... are there any jobs out there that our talents can pay up to?" asking the wikipedia clown.

Jhin grumbled, "There's a lot of jobs you can get without a degree..." he paused, "whether it's IT-related or healthcare's up to you, mon chéri."

Is he saying anything can be achieved because of his brain?

Cringing at his own bravado, "definitely not business, it'll bore us to fucking death."

First, let's find a cheap motel.

The cigarette in your hand had been snuffed out from its flames. Tossing it inside a trashcan, BECAUSE you're an anti-litter kinda person. It's the fucking bare minimum of being a decent person.

The clown shook his head, "Oh, Little Anthony..."

We were never decent, he thought.

Finding a cheap place in Chicago was pretty easy, it's a city like any other city.

Jenny didn't wanna be in any place other than a metropolis.

"I guess being locked up in a slaughterhouse gave her deep trauma for places like—"

Obviously!" Jihn chuckled.

After getting a deal of few dollars a night, you got yourself a run-down room. Just enough to sleep in and even drug yourself to death since no one will give a fuck about you in here.

Roommates number 1 and 2 were definitely druggies. You even had the wonderful chance to meet them in the hallway.

Settling in your duffle bag to the chair, you ate an energy bar and gobbled it down with water.

"Let's see what we have here..." you pulled out a journal you just bought from a random store. Clicking the pen, you start jotting down the events to help keep the branches together.

The clown was just observing you when he muttered, "Don't forget about the tarot cards."

Oh, you forgot about that.

Investigating this mysterious deck of cards would probably take a toll on you, considering how long it will take.

You felt the exhaustion wash over you and decided to take a damn nap first.

Tossing the journal aside, you plopped down on your bed and immediately went to La La Land.

After a few good minutes,

Jihn replaced your consciousness, "Hmm.. " he voluntarily went out to observe this mysterious set of cards.

"Oh?" one of the cards gave off a faint glow, particularly the one with an image of an angel pouring water from a goblet to another one, "Temperance..."

Surely, a glowing card means something?

Jihn had a great fucking idea to try and destroy it, "Let's see how you can handle this, little guy."

He grabbed the card on both sides, attempting to tear it apart. But the moment he tried that, a pang of pain went through his head like a hot rod, "Fucker!"

Breaking Jihn's french gest? Gotta hand it to those mysterious cards.

While Anthony's consciousness is sleeping peacefully, a particular clown was wailing from the unimaginable pain he had just gone through.

"Haha! I never felt this kind of torture before!" madness was seething from the clown's eyes, "too bad, I'm just so used to it."

The clown tried experimenting on it for quite some time. He tried to burn it, eat it, and make it soggy.

But nothing seems to happen. Just the usual excruciating pain.

He tried chanting ludicrous words, looking for ways to activate it. Like a fucking Yu Gi Oh.

Plucking the last straw on the clown's patience, he discarded the card outside.

"Let's see you endure that, petite merde," humming as the clown happily walks back to the room, "Well, that solves i—

He halted.

The sight of the card 'Temperance' was placed alongside the other cards, neat and tidy.

What a peculiar thing, the clown thought.

Then, he eerily smiled, "Let's see what you fucker... can do."

A silent challenge was initiated within the clown's heart to crack the game—

Whatever the Gods had in mind to mess with them.

The room felt compressing as the clown went silent, leaving the snores of Little Anthony.