At home, Alexander locked himself in his room and started planning. There was a map of the district on the table, which he found in Jonathan's desk drawer. With a red pen, he marked several potential places for ambush.
"I need a place where I will have an advantage. Where I can use traps and control the situation."
His eyes stopped on an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. The ideal place is a lot of levels, a lot of scrap metal for improvised weapons, and most importantly - no one nearby.
"Art likes to play. If I provoke him right, he will come there alone. Without this damn girl."
Sienna knocked on the door several times, asking if everything was okay, but Alexander replied that he was doing his homework. He didn't care about her concern.
"In the end, if I fuck and die, everything will start again. So, Sienna will also be alive.
In the evening, when the family went to bed, Alexander collected the necessary equipment. He took a hammer, a screwdriver, a skein of wire and a small canister of gasoline from the garage. From the kitchen - the sharpest knife and lighter.
"God knows what an arsenal, but it's enough for improvised traps."
At three o'clock in the morning, he quietly got out of the house and headed to the abandoned factory. The journey took about an hour on foot - far enough from residential areas so that no one heard the noise.
The factory turned out to be exactly as he imagined - a huge red brick building with broken windows. It was dark inside, it smelled of rust and mold. The perfect place for the last battle.
"Now we need to prepare the stage."
Alexander spent two hours installing traps. In the main hall, he pulled an almost invisible wire at the level of his ankles - if Art chases him, he will definitely stumble.
On the second floor, he poured gasoline on part of the floor and prepared a lighter. Fire trap is a classic of the genre.
Next to the stairs, he installed a pile of scrap metal, which could be brought down on the enemy with one blow to the support beam.
"Is that enough to detain a supernatural being? Dick knows. But it's worth a try."
Everything was ready by dawn. Alexander sat down on the old box in the center of the hall and took out the phone. It was time to lure the clown.
He took a picture of himself with his middle finger raised and wrote a message in large letters on the wall behind him:
ARTA CLOWN, A COWARDLY PEDOPHILE
"Let's see how you like this invitation, you bastard."
He sent the photo to all the numbers from Jonathan's phone book, including emergency response services. Somewhere in the city Art will definitely see it - such creatures have their own ways of getting information.
Now all I had to do was wait.
Art appeared half an hour later.
Alexander heard a familiar sound - slow steps and a quiet grinding of metal on the concrete. The clown entered the building without hiding and without hurrying.
"Good. He came alone, without a girl. So, he perceives it as a personal challenge."
Alexander stood up and shouted:
- Hey, faggot in white makeup! You took so long to get there that I already thought - maybe you fucked up with fear?
Quiet laughter echoed around the building - Art clearly appreciated the provocation. Then he appeared himself - in the doorway of the main hall, with the same bloody knife in his hands. The white face blurted into a creepy smile.
- And it turns out that you look even nastier than I thought. - Alexander said. - Even Creeper was prettier.
Art tilted his head, as if studying it, and slowly entered the hall.
- Do you know who you are? - Alexander continued. - You're Art. A killer clown who resurrected to kill children. A pathetic fucking creature that can show strength only in front of the defenseless.
The smile on Art's face became wider, but a light of rage appeared in his eyes.
- Aren't you afraid of death, little hero? - Alexander continued to mock. - Because I, bitch, absolutely don't give a fuck what happens next.
"And it's true. In the penalty area, death is not the end, but just a restart. I can take a risk like no living soul can."
Art began to approach, and Alexander retreated to the stairs to the second floor. The clown walked slowly, enjoying the moment - a classic mistake of all sadists.
- Do you know what I like about you? - Alexander continued to speak, climbing the steps. - You are predictable, like a biology textbook. A sadist with an inferiority complex who compensates for his insignificance by killing the weak.
Art stopped at the foot of the stairs, clearly touched by the living. His smile tremored.
- All your strength is that people are afraid of you, - Alexander grinned. - And what will you do with someone who is not afraid?
The clown roared and rushed down the stairs. That's exactly what Alexander was waiting for.
He hit the support beam with a hammer, and a pile of scrap metal fell directly on Art. The clown managed to dodge the bulk, but several heavy pieces of iron hit him in the back and shoulder.
Art got up from the floor, staggering. Black blood oozed from the wounds, but his eyes were burning with rage.
- You're just a stupid beast! - Alexander shouted. - You're caught in the simplest trap!
Art reached the second floor, but now he was limping - one of the wreckages damaged his leg. Every advantage was important.
- Where is your girlfriend-daughter? - Alexander continued to mock. - Or have you already shot her like a sick dog? By the way, she looked exactly like a sick dog.
Art roared silently and rushed forward with a knife in the lead.
Alexander dodged and clicked the lighter. The gasoline-capped floor flashed, cutting off the clown from the main part of the room.
- Ay-ay-ay, - Alexander said sympathetically. - The Great Art fell into a fire trap. You know, in the circus you would have failed with a bang.
Art jumped over the flames, but the fire caught the edge of his costume. The clown cursedly knocked down sparks, and Alexander took advantage of the moment.
He threw a wire loop around Art's neck and pulled it with all his might. The clown was hoarse, grabbing his throat.
- Do you feel like it? - Alexander hissed right into the clown's ear. - Do you feel life leaving you, like all your victims?
Art elbowed Alexander in the ribs, forcing him to let go of the wire. Then he turned around and hit the temple with a knife handle.
Alexander fell down, his eyes darkened. Art hung over him, breathing heavily, his white face distorted in a grimace of rage.
- Then why are you bleeding like an ordinary bitch? - Alexander grinned, wiping the blood out of his mouth.
Indeed, red spots from the wounds were blurred on Art's suit.
Art howled with rage and swung a knife, but Alexander managed to grab him by the wrist. The fight for weapons has begun.
"He's stronger, but wounded and angry. Rage makes him careless. The main thing is to hold out a little longer."
Alexander clung to the clown's hand with a dead grip and began to squeeze the pressure points on his wrist. A skill that he studied for years in his past life in order to fight back against offenders.
Art tried to hit with his free hand, but Alexander intercepted her too. Now they were lying on the floor, clutching in a deadly fight.
- Do you know what's the funniest thing? - Alexander breathed heavily, continuing to press on his nerve points. - You think I'm an ordinary kid. But I know
All about you.
Art silently tried to free himself, but his movements became weaker.
- I've fought with people like you many times, - Alexander replied coldly. - And you're not even the most terrible of those I've ever had to fight.
The knife finally fell out of Art's weakened hand. Alexander immediately grabbed him and put him to the clown's throat.
Art looked at him with surprise and... respect? There was no longer that self-confident cruelty in his eyes.
"Not this time, you bastard," Alexander whispered.
Suddenly, everything around began to blur. The walls of the factory dissolved, the sounds died down, and Art himself turned into a gray haze.
"What the fuck?"
Alexander felt his body become weightless, and his mind became foggy. The last thing he had time to think:
"The time is up. I survived. The penalty zone is over."
***
When his vision cleared up, Alexander found himself in a familiar office. Red walls, a leather chair, and the Devil was sitting at a massive table in his expensive suit.
- Well, - the owner of Hell smiled, - it was quite spectacular.