Page 12 of Insanium
I reacted instinctively, with quick reflexes honed from years of training and being put into unpredictable situations by my family.
I grabbed Raphael by the back of his shirt, pulling him out of danger just as the bat collided with the glass of the claw machine. Shattered fragments flew around us like stars in a dangerously close galaxy, glittering in the air.
“Holy shit, was he there the whole time?”
“Sure was. I’m going to need you to work on your sense of awareness.” I stepped between him and the clown, pulling out my knife with a flourish. “Protect that plushie,” I instructed him. Channeling my inner sailor scout, and with a practiced flick of my wrist, my knife sailed through the air. It found its target with lethal precision, embedding itself directly in the clown’s eye. it was almost dead center—which was a solid nine outta ten if I did say so myself. I moved forward to capitalize on the clown’s moment of weakness.
As I closed in, the clown clutched at its face, issuing a bizarre, muffled whimper of pain. It was an odd talent, crying in pain yet maintaining such silence. I watched in fascination, then cupped the back of his head and yanked my knife free from his eye socket. The blade came away slick with a magnificent cocktail of face paint and blood—a grotesquely beautiful sight.
Raphael hurried to my side, shoving the plush devil into my arms. “Run back to the theater,” he said, his tone edged with urgency and something fiercely protective that made my heart skip.
“And leave my partner to fend for themself? Not a chance.”
He muttered something about stubborn women under his breath and then picked up the spiked bat the clown had dropped. The resolve in his posture was something to behold, and oh, how his muscles flexed as he raised the bat high. With a fierce grunt, he brought it down on the clown’s skull. The sickening crunch was strangely satisfying, like stepping on crisp leaves but far more visceral. The bat got stuck, and with another grunt that made me think of other things, mainly how he would sound with me on top of him, he removed it. A few chunky bits clung to the spikes that had been embedded in the clown’s head, reminding me of a thick salsa.
“We have to go,” he urged.
I quickly sheathed my knife, gripping the plush devil tightly. As we sprinted through the dimly lit hallway, a clown decided to make an ill-timed appearance from a dark corner.
Raphael didn’t hesitate. He charged ahead, swinging the bat with deadly accuracy and impaling the clown’s torso. It collapsed, writhing in pain as we dashed past. We burst into the theater, my heart pounding and my breaths coming fast. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, fueling me with a thrilling rush of energy as I dropped back into my seat.
“Welcome back,” Aisha greeted us, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and admiration.
“Have fun?” Hael added, his smirk suggesting he already knew the answer.
“Fun’s my middle name, baby,” I shot back, glancing triumphantly at the timer. “We beat the clock, Rafe!” I exclaimed, pointing at the screen, which proudly displayed a mere 00:03 remaining.
“With three seconds to spare,” Kristy chimed in, her voice thick with disdain.
“Three seconds and a key,” I retorted, holding up the plush devil like it was a trophy. “What did you manage to snag during your attempt, Kunty?”
“What did you call me?” she snapped, face twisting into a scowl.
“Your name, obviously.” I flicked a glance toward Rafe, tossing him a cheeky grin.
“And unlike your partner, mine didn’t end up with a smashed face. A win is a win, and right now, we’re two for one.”
Rafe met my gaze, his smile supportive and loaded with unspoken agreement. I felt a flutter in my chest at his silent backing, giving me the courtesy of letting me fight my own battles. Not that it was hard when my opponent had the presence of a wet rag. Kristy, meanwhile, just continued to scowl and turned away, probably wishing she could disappear into her seat.
“You did good, guys,” Maya chimed in from a few seats over, her tone genuine.
“Thank you, gorgeous. Glad someone appreciates our efforts,” I replied, leaning back in my seat.
“Was that aSailor Moonmove with the knife?”
I blinked and turned in my seat to find the source, the realization dawning that our ordeal had likely been broadcast for all to see.
“You’re a fan, too?” I believed his name was Jerome.
He looked slightly sheepish. “Yeah, grew up with it.”
“Don’t hide it. I’m all about meeting fellow scouts,” I beamed, my voice full of genuine cheer.
From behind me, a muffled voice grumbled, “She’s absolutely insane.”
I tossed a casual shrug over my shoulder, unfazed. “Insane isn’t so bad. It’s helped me live this long, after all.”
The screen flickered again and the same voice from before began to speak, rolling out a new layer of the riddle.
