Rain poured down, drenching the city, neon lights flickering through the sheets. The "J" on the club's sign buzzed, casting a faint glow over the doorway where Jack stood, staring blankly ahead, soaked to the bone. Heavy clouds pressed low, weighing down the streets.
The door behind him creaked open, and Eddie strolled out, flicking a half-smoked cigarette into a puddle. He tugged down the brim of his hat, shaking off the rain as he descended the steps. "Hey, buddy," he called, clapping Jack on the shoulder.
Jack turned, eyes distant. "Hi."
Eddie gave him a quick once-over, brow raised. "You all right? You're lookin' a little… spaced out." They started walking, footsteps echoing off the wet pavement, a steady beat beneath the rain.
Jack shrugged, gaze fixed on the ground. "I dunno, Eddie. Feels strange… like I'm about to do something I can't come back from."
Eddie snorted, waving a hand. "You're overthinking it, man. It's just a quick job. In, out, grab the cash, done. We've done this a thousand times."
Jack nodded, hands in his pockets, but his gut twisted with unease. Eddie barely noticed, his tone light as he pulled something from his coat, holding it out.
"Here," Eddie said, handing over a clown mask, its grin wide and garish.
Jack took it, frowning. "What's this?"
Eddie smirked, nudging him. "Can't have them knowing who you are, right? Thought you might wanna keep that pretty face hidden."
Jack nodded slowly, fingers tracing the mask's painted grin. "Makes sense."
Eddie clapped him on the back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Plus, it fits you. Something about it just screams 'Jack,' don't ya think?"
Jack stared at the mask, then back at Eddie, who was already walking ahead, oblivious to Jack's reaction. Eddie glanced over his shoulder, smirking as he called, "Come on, keep up! We've got places to be."
Jack hesitated, rain running down his face, blurring his reflection in a nearby puddle with the mask's painted grin.
"Let's go!" Eddie's voice echoed, barely audible over the rain.
Jack shook himself and jogged to catch up, his footsteps splashing through shallow puddles.
Jack followed Eddie through the rain-soaked streets until they reached a dingy apartment building nearby. Eddie pressed a key into the old lock and shoved the door open, leading Jack up the creaky staircase, the musty smell of the building mixing with the lingering dampness from outside. On the third floor, Eddie knocked twice, then pushed open the door to a cramped, sparsely furnished apartment. Ricky was already there, leaning against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he looked Jack up and down.
"Eddie, you sure about this guy?" he muttered, nodding at Jack. "Thought he was here for laughs, not a job. You sure he's got it?"
Jack met his gaze, saying nothing. Eddie, sprawled on the couch, waved Ricky off with a flick of his hand.
"Yeah, yeah, Jack's fine," Eddie said, flashing a grin. "He's due for something real, right, Jack?" Jack nodded, eyes steady but his hands twitching at his sides.
Ricky snorted. "Right. Long as he doesn't choke out there. This isn't a stage, Jack. This is real work." He laughed, waiting for a reaction, but Jack stayed blank.
Eddie rolled his eyes. "Cut it out. Here's the rundown. We hit The Velvet Room at midnight. Place'll be busy. We slip in through the side door, straight down the back hall to the manager's office. Jack, you're on lookout. Any trouble, you tap on the wall. Quick and quiet."
Ricky raised a brow, glancing over. "Hope you remember how to keep quiet, Jack. Don't need a comedy routine tonight."
Jack barely glanced his way, just nodded. Eddie lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag. "We wait till the place is swingin'. Makes it easier to get in and out, no one the wiser."
The hours dragged as they waited, the room darkening with nightfall. Ricky threw a few more digs at Jack, but Jack sat there, fidgety, his eyes fixed on the floor. Finally, Eddie stubbed out his cigarette. "Alright, let's go."
They moved through the rain-slicked streets, neon lights reflecting off puddles as they slipped into the alley. Eddie jammed a crowbar into the side door, and with a soft click, they slipped inside, following the thumping bass toward the back corridor. They passed the bustling club floor, the noise covering their tracks as they wound their way to the dimly lit hallway. Eddie led them to the manager's door, giving a quick nod before easing it open. Shadows stretched across the walls, the room empty.
Eddie's flashlight cut through the dark, landing on a faded painting behind the desk. He swung it aside, revealing the safe. "Jack, cover the door," he whispered.
Jack took his place by the doorway, his hands shifting, unable to stay still, his eyes darting down the hall. Ricky knelt in front of the safe, spinning the dial with ease, letting out a quiet laugh. "So, Jack," he muttered, "finally gettin' a taste of the real stuff. Better than your little clown act, yeah?"
Jack swallowed, keeping his focus on the hallway. "It's fine, Ricky."
Ricky snickered as the safe clicked open. "You keep thinkin' that. Maybe one day you'll even get good at it." He pulled the safe door open, and he and Eddie started stuffing the cash into a duffel bag, moving fast.
Jack's ears pricked at a sound—footsteps. His face went pale, and he stammered, "E-Eddie… I think…"
Eddie glanced over, his eyes narrowing. "What is it?"
Jack's gaze was glued to the hallway, his voice barely a whisper. "Someone's coming."
The footsteps were getting closer, a steady rhythm echoing through the corridor. Jack's hands clenched, body tense, as Eddie signaled him to stay quiet.
Just as Ricky zipped the duffel bag, the door crashed open. The manager stood there, eyes wide, barely registering the scene before Eddie lunged at him, slamming him into the wall.
"What the hell?" the manager gasped, clawing at Eddie, throwing punches with wild, frantic swings. Eddie grunted, catching one blow to his jaw but coming back hard, driving his shoulder into the manager's chest, pinning him. The manager fought back, cursing, grabbing Eddie's arm, and yanking it down, twisting free for a second.
"Shit!" Eddie spat, scrambling to regain his grip, wrestling the guy back against the wall. They grappled, fists flying, elbows jabbing, their bodies a flurry of movement. Jack stood frozen, eyes wide, a twisted laugh spilling out of him. It started low, choked, but it quickly grew, louder, manic, spilling from him uncontrollably.
Ricky turned, fury flashing in his eyes. "What the fuck, Jack? Are you serious?"
Jack's face twisted, laughter pouring out, his voice shaking. "I—I can't stop, man! I can't help it!"
"Shut him up!" Eddie snapped, his voice strained as he wrestled with the manager, who threw a punch, landing it square on Eddie's cheek. Eddie stumbled, catching himself against the wall, eyes blazing. "Ricky, take this fucker!"
Ricky rushed over, shoving Eddie aside, his face set with rage. He grabbed the manager by the collar, slammed him down hard on the desk, and drove his knee into the man's chest, pinning him. "Stay down, you piece of shit!" The manager choked, struggling beneath him, arms flailing, face twisted in panic.
Jack's laughter hit a fever pitch, high and crazed, echoing off the walls. Eddie stormed over to him, grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him violently. "Shut the fuck up, Jack! You're gonna blow this for all of us!" He slapped Jack hard across the face, once, twice, his eyes burning. "Get your shit together!"
Jack's laughter turned to choked gasps, his eyes wide, blinking like he was coming out of a daze. He nodded, breath shaky, barely able to pull himself together. Meanwhile, Ricky kept the manager pinned, his grip iron-tight, knuckles white. The manager's struggles finally eased, his breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps as he lay there, defeated but alive.
Ricky let him go, stepping back, chest heaving. He grabbed the bag, turning to Eddie, who still had his hands on Jack's shoulders, practically holding him up.
Eddie gave Jack a shove. "Get it together, now. We're out of here."
They bolted from the office, moving fast down the hallway, shadows trailing in their wake. As they rounded the corner toward the exit, a security guard appeared, gun drawn, his face a mask of shock and fury.
"Stop! Hands up!" he barked.
They froze, hands shooting up, each of them breathing hard, the tension like a live wire between them. Eddie stepped forward, voice steady, but eyes hard. "Hey, hey, take it easy, alright? We don't want any trouble here, yeah?"
The guard's hands shook slightly, but his voice stayed firm. "On the ground. Now. All of you!"
Ricky shot a look at Eddie, desperation edging into his tone. "Come on, man. Let's work this out. You don't need to be a hero tonight. Just let us go."
The guard's eyes narrowed, his grip on the gun tightening. "I said, get on the ground! Now!"
Eddie raised his hands higher, voice low, urgent. "Think about it, man. We walk, you go home tonight, no one knows a damn thing."
Jack stood there, barely breathing, his eyes locked on the guard like a deer in headlights, shoulders trembling. The guard's jaw clenched, finger moving on the trigger, his voice shaking with rage.
"Last chance. On the ground!"
"Hey, c'mon, man—"
BANG!
Jack lay on the cold, hard floor of his cell, staring up at the cracked ceiling. A loud BANG! echoed down the hallway, snapping him out of his trance. Probably just another door slamming shut, he thought.
The small slider on his cell door clanked open, and a guard peered in, voice flat. "Jack. Time to get up. Recess."
Jack pushed himself up, shaky but eager, a strange smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He got ready, pulling on the prison-issue shirt they'd left him, and shuffled toward the door, waiting as the guard unlocked it, metal scraping against metal. The guard led him down the narrow hallway, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, painting everything in harsh, clinical brightness. Jack's gaze flicked over the other cells as they passed—some empty, some holding shadowy figures, watching him back, hollow-eyed.
They reached the courtyard, the space open but caged, heavy steel mesh stretching overhead. Inmates moved in clusters, some playing basketball, some standing in tight circles, talking in low voices. Guards kept a watchful eye from every corner, arms crossed, hands on batons, keeping close tabs on the prisoners.
Jack wandered into the yard, letting out a low chuckle, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably as he passed a group of inmates gathered by the benches.
One of them, a stocky guy with tattoos running down his arms, looked up, frowning. "The hell you laughing about, clown?"
Jack grinned, his eyes wide and wild. "Why not? Ain't this place a riot?" His laugh grew louder, pitching into a manic cackle. A few others joined in, their own laughter just as twisted, rolling out into the heavy air, feeding off Jack's energy.
Jack doubled over, his laughter echoing through the yard, uncontrollable and shrill. The sound bounced off the walls, cutting through the murmur of voices, turning a few heads as he swayed, almost like he might topple over.
Across the yard, two guards watched him, their faces tense, arms folded as they spoke quietly.
"They're pushing for the death penalty, y'know," one of them muttered, his eyes fixed on Jack.
The other nodded, a frown etched deep into his face. "Wouldn't be surprised. Guy's way past saving."
Jack caught their gaze, and his laughter stuttered, his eyes meeting theirs from across the yard, a flash of something dark passing over his face. Then he let out another loud, unhinged laugh, the sound stretching into the empty space, rattling through the yard.
"Alright, alright," one of them began. "Shut the fuck up!"
Jack blinked, the courtyard melting away, his mind crashing back to that night. He stared ahead, seeing Eddie in front of him, gripping a gun, his face pale as he looked down at the body sprawled on the ground, blood spreading in dark pools across the floor.
"Shut up, Jack!" Eddie's voice was desperate, raw. "Shut the hell up!"
"You—you killed him…" Jack stammered, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief, but a laugh crept up his throat, twisted and uncontrollable. It bubbled over, his shoulders shaking as he pointed, laughing like it was some cosmic joke.
Eddie's eyes flashed, and he whipped around, slapping Jack hard across the face. "I said, shut up! SHUT UP!" His hand trembled as he stared at the corpse, horrified, the reality of what he'd done crashing over him.
Ricky stood there, mouth open, eyes darting between the body and Eddie. "It was us or him… you didn't have a choice, man. You did what you had to."
But Jack kept laughing, that high-pitched, manic cackle filling the space, his face twisted with something almost gleeful. Eddie turned on him, seething. "Shut up, Jack! Shut the hell up!" He slapped Jack again, his voice breaking, desperation seeping into every word. "This isn't funny! Shut the fuck up!"
Ricky looked over, panicked, his hands shaking. "Goddamn it, we gotta go. Now."
They turned, grabbing Jack by the collar, hauling him toward the back door. They stumbled out, pushing through the exit, their footsteps pounding down the alley, adrenaline fueling them as they ran into the night, slipping through the shadows.
And then—sirens. The wail pierced the quiet, cutting through the rain, louder and louder.
They burst out onto the street, rain hitting them like icy needles. Headlights flashed as police cars swerved to a stop, sirens blaring. Doors flew open, and officers spilled out, guns raised.
"GET ON THE GROUND!"
But they didn't stop. Eddie shot a look at Ricky, and they bolted, sprinting down the street, Jack right behind, his laughter breaking out in crazed bursts. He stumbled, caught his balance, and kept running, the sound of sirens blaring in his ears. His laugh rose, blending with the chaos, almost a scream now, breathless and wild.
They dodged through alleyways, skidding on wet pavement, slipping through side streets, feet pounding as they ran. Jack's lungs burned, but the laughter wouldn't stop, spilling out between gasps, uncontrollable. The shouts behind them grew louder as the police closed in, their footsteps echoing, relentless.
Finally, they reached a dead end—high walls on every side, slick with rain. Eddie and Ricky scrambled over a low fence, but as Jack tried to climb, his foot slipped, his coat snagging on a jagged edge. He tugged, but it wouldn't give, and he twisted, pulling harder, his eyes wide with panic as he saw the blue and red lights reflecting off the wet walls.
Eddie looked back, desperation flashing in his eyes. He hesitated, watching Jack struggle, then saw the cops rounding the corner, guns drawn. Ricky grabbed his shoulder, yelling over the rain. "Damn it, leave him! We gotta go!"
Eddie's face twisted, but he nodded, ducking down, disappearing into the shadows. Jack pulled harder, finally freeing himself, but as he dropped down, the flashlights found him. Rain slapped against his face, cold and sharp, mingling with the blood and sweat. He turned, facing the officers, his hand reaching up as the rain poured down, streaking his face, his laughter starting up again, softer, stranger.
"GET ON THE GROUND!" one of the cops shouted, voice tight with tension.
Jack just stared back, unblinking, the laughter spilling out, louder, cutting through the night. He held their gaze, his chest heaving, then turned and ran, tearing down the alley, slipping and stumbling as the rain poured around him.
Behind him, barking rang out, sharp and urgent. The dogs were on his trail, their snarls echoing in the narrow street. Jack ran faster, legs pumping, heart pounding, laughter turning to breathless gasps. The alley twisted, and he could hear the officers shouting, the dogs' barks closing in, filling his ears.
His foot slipped on the wet ground, nearly sending him sprawling, but he kept going, barely staying upright, breath ragged, each step feeling heavier than the last. He glanced over his shoulder, saw the flashlights bobbing closer, and pushed on, driven by a strange mix of fear and something else, something he couldn't control.
Jack stumbled into a junkyard, feet pounding over puddles and broken metal, the sirens fading behind him, but the dogs—oh, the dogs, they were still there, barking and snarling in the distance, relentless. Rain poured down, drenching him, soaking through his clothes, but it didn't matter. The laughter bubbled up, louder and louder, spilling out of him, echoing through the empty yard.
He ran deeper into the maze of twisted metal and shattered glass, the rain thumping like drums on the rusted car shells around him. It was a beat, a rhythm, pounding in his chest, driving him forward, faster, faster. He felt something shift, and as he reached up, the clown mask he hadn't even realized he was still wearing slipped off, falling into the mud behind him. Jack barely noticed, his face twisted in an open-mouthed grin, the laughter spilling from his throat, louder, rawer, free.
"Ohhh, let the music begin!" he cried, spinning as he ran, arms flung wide, his voice echoing into the storm. He was drenched, breathless, the world around him a blur of rain and rusted metal, but in that moment, he didn't care. Nothing mattered but the pounding in his chest, the beat of the rain, the thrill surging through him.
Jack stumbled into the center of the junkyard, arms outstretched as the rain pounded down, mixing with his laughter, louder and louder. He spun, flinging his arms wide, his soaked clothes clinging to him as he moved. The rhythm of the rain turned into a beat, a pounding drum that seemed to grow, turning the whole yard into his stage. His laughter transformed into song, a wild, broken tune that ripped out of him, words spilling out as he danced between the piles of twisted metal.
"Ohhh, it's a show tonight!" he sang, his voice echoing through the rain-soaked yard. He leaped onto a crumpled car hood, arms flailing, his body twisting, wild and free. "It's me, it's me! I'm the king of this stage! You're all here for me!"
He danced through the junkyard, flinging himself onto the wreckage, moving with every beat, every thunderclap. His voice rose, louder, crazier, his laughter mingling with the melody as he spun, slipping, catching himself, never stopping. The dogs' barking grew closer, but it was nothing more than an encore in his mind, the sound swelling into the music.
"Ohhh, it's Jack's world tonight!" he belted, spinning with his arms wide, head thrown back, raindrops glistening on his face. "I'm on top of it all!"
Flashlights cut through the rain as the police closed in, their shouts barely reaching him, lost in his own symphony. He danced toward them, taunting, singing louder, his voice ragged but powerful, his laughter bursting from him like fireworks.
"Come on, boys! The show's just getting started!" He leaped up onto a pile of old metal scraps, throwing his arms out, making a grand, exaggerated bow, his voice rising as he sang to them, grinning like he held the world in his hands.
The officers ran toward him, guns raised, yelling for him to stop, to get on the ground, but Jack just kept moving, twisting, flinging himself forward as he sang. "Catch me if you can!" he shouted, his voice cracking with laughter as he dashed through the maze of broken cars, the dogs right on his heels.
The music in his head swelled, reaching a fever pitch as he ran, each step bringing him closer to the edge of the yard, where a cliffside loomed, jagged rocks below. He reached it, standing on the edge, rain pouring over him, staring out into the void, his grin spreading wider, his body heaving with laughter. The police closed in, flashlights reflecting off the rain, footsteps pounding, getting closer and closer, but Jack just threw his head back, arms out, eyes wild.
With one last look at the stormy sky, he flung himself into the air, his voice breaking into a final shout, his body suspended over the dark, rushing water below.
"What a beautiful world!" he cried, laughter ringing out, swallowed by the storm as he plummeted, the rain washing over him, his voice echoing into the night.