Page 11 of Insanium
“You want kids?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in surprise.
“Of course. At least six, I think. Gotta keep life interesting.”
“Six? That’s no small number.”
“But I’ll have a few great daddies to help me raise them. They’ll follow after all of us in no time.”
“A few?” He seemed both amused and a bit perplexed.
“Oh, you didn’t know? I’m gonna have myself a harem.”
His laughter echoed around us. “A harem, huh? That’s one way to ensure variety.”
“Well, the kids will come later, obviously. I’ve got to help my brothers out with some world domination or something, and then I’ll need time to enjoy being the center of attention with my guys.”
“Sounds like a full schedule. But as for being the center of attention? Pretty sure you already have that down. I don’t think I’ve stopped looking your way since you walked into the room. And I know I’m not the only one.”
“Oh? Flattery will get you everywhere.”
The neon-lit arcade came into view and brought a wave of nostalgia, making me think of the carefree days spent at Freddy’s with my brothers when we were younger. Now, the games we played would consist of murder and mayhem. Raphael and I, still linked by our hands, meandered through the vibrant maze of machines until he broke our rhythm with a sudden declaration.
“Claw machine.”
I followed his pointing finger, my eyes catching on the countdown timer ticking away. I tugged him toward the machine. “You play. I’ll watch your back.”
“Isn’t that backward?”
I shook my head. “You played football, right? Those big ol’ hands are perfect for this.”
“What does that—?”
“It means you’re catching our key today. No time to waste, pretty boy.”
He sighed but obediently stepped up to the challenge, his focus narrowing as he took control of the claw. Meanwhile, I stole a few seconds to soak in the arcade’s familiar, joyful chaos, noting the presence of classics like Hungry Hippos and Skee-Ball.
I made a mental note to drag the twins out for an old-school game night when this was over.
All thoughts of tickets and prizes fell away when I spotted a clown emerging from a shadowy alcove out of the corner of my eye, a spiked bat in tow. Unwilling to alarm Raphael, I started to sway to an internal beat, casually dropping into a dance, “Jolene” hummed under my breath, the rhythm helping to mask my movements. As I dipped low, my hand slipped into my boot, fingers wrapping securely around the handle of my knife. With a casual grace, I readied myself for whatever came next, my eyes darting discreetly toward the approaching danger.
“Are—are you twerking right now?” Raphael asked incredulously.
“What? No. This is hardly the time to be doing that.”
“ … I can see your reflection in the glass.”
I chuckled, continuing to mask my movements as I adjusted the grip on my knife. “We’re buddies, right, Rafe?” I asked nonchalantly.
“Of course,” he replied, though his tone carried a hint of uncertainty.
“Do you know that we have someone neither of us likes here right now?” I continued, trying to gauge his awareness of our unwelcome spectator.
“Yes,” he said slowly, clearly unsure where I was going with this.
I huffed softly, realizing from his reaction that although he might see my reflection, he hadn’t noticed the clown. Raphael cursed softly under his breath, his focus intensifying on the claw machine’s controls. I held my tongue, knowing better than to distract him as the timer ticked down second by second. With only three minutes remaining, my heart raced with a mix of anticipation and adrenaline.
“Got it!” he exclaimed a moment later.
I turned and watched him remove a devil plushie from the drop box. As he bent to snag the prize, the claw machine eruptedinto a symphony of victorious buzzes and flashing lights, his face beaming with the rush of success. The moment of triumph lasted all of a few seconds. The clown, which had paused momentarily, suddenly lunged forward, its bat raised high in the air.
