Killer Conflict:
Jeffery Dahmer Vs. John Wayne Gacy
Note: This is not, in any way, an attempt to glorify the deeds of these two men. I loathe serial killers, and am actually of what some might call an extreme view that anyone who does such things should not be kept alive or "studied", but killed immediately. However, we all enjoy a good monster fight, and there's nothing wrong with remembering these two for what they were—monsters.
Introduction
Jeffery Dahmer: Demented, conflicted butcher intent on making the world a better place…for himself.
John Wayne Gacy: Consummate sociopath whose hunger for sex was surpassed only by his lust for power…
Who—Is—Deadliest?
Weapons/X-Factors/Special Weapons
Dahmer slashes in with: a Plastic bag, Power drill, Pipe, and a Machete
X Factor(s): Meek and unassuming demeanor
Special Weapon(s): Teeth.
Gacy stabs back with: a Hunting knife, Baseball bat, and Bare hands
X Factor(s): Expert liar and manipulator, Overwhelming personality, Toughness
Special Weapon(s): Handcuffs, Improvisation
Weapons Challenge
Plastic Bag Vs. Bare Hands—Edge: Bare Hands (Gacy)
Pipe Vs. Bat—Edge: Pipe (Dahmer)
Machete Vs. Hunting Knife—Edge: Machete (Dahmer)
X Factors in Action: Dahmer, while no stranger to lies and subterfuge, is unable to resist the charm of Gacy, who is attracted to his meek nature. –Edge: Gacy
Applied Special Weapons: Handcuffs are hard to get someone into-even Gacy had to use every last verbal trick he knew to get his victims to willingly don them—and Dahmer, intent on snapping a bite of Gacy, simply won't have it.—Edge: Dahmer. Simulation
Dahmer pulled slowly up to "Sydney's House of Sodomy" [sorry, couldn't resist XD] intent on seeing this "queer clown" performer so many of his acquaintances had been talking about. They simply would not shut up about. The idea grated on Dahmer's nerves, everywhere he went, whatever plan he tried to devise, there was the thought of a groping, homosexual clown. He could take no more, he would see this "queer clown" once and for all.
He made sure to make a slight detour to the alley around the club to deposit a few "materials", then made his way to the entrance. As he walked into the club, he saw a poster: "Pogo the Transvestite", it read. Dahmer had been here before, but he'd never seen it this packed; he was barely able to reserve a decent seat for himself. Usually a gregarious and outgoing type in atmospheres such as this, Dahmer found himself on lockdown this night—a prisoner of his unquiet nerves—he shot threatening or dispassionate glances at people he would normally have gone out of his way to initiate a conversation with.
Finally, after a torturous fifteen minutes of waiting, the stage went dark. Cheesy circus music began to fill the club, and then the curtains parted…
What stood on the stage about fifty feet form Dahmer drew from him an immediate erection: there was a squat, portly man, though he had gone to impressive lengths to make himself appear as the opposite gender: he wore a black miniskirt, with black fishnets adorning his legs, and black stiletto high heels barely covering his chubby toes. He seemed to wear a push up bra, which made his already ample man-boobs seem all the more convincing. But what really caught Dahmer's attention was the face in conjunction with the rest the body: he wore a blonde, curly wig ( a convincing wig, but a wig nonetheless, Dahmer could tell) with red, blue and white clown makeup, in classic Ringling Brothers style, with a poofy party hat to top it all off.
The motley porker began a mock strip tease, eliciting from the crowd a resounding chorus of cheers. He stroked himself, thrust his ample pelvis, and in no time, was making his way through the crowd. He had put a party streamer in his mouth, and oscillated between teasing onlookers with it, and provocatively shoving most of the shaft in and out of his mouth. As he weaved through the tables, he paused from time to time to give a quick, faux lap-dance to a patron, or to tantalize them in some other clownish way.
Dahmer was on edge with excitement. He had never seen a thespian of this sort, the theme, the way he carried himself, the way he moved, the utter shamelessness with which he conducted himself…"I must have him", Dahmer thought, "I must make him mine…"
But as Dhamer thought, he noticed the rather unconventional clown eying him, he shifted nervously and tried to look way, but to his delight, he soon spotted the androgynous jester making his way to him. When he got there, Dahmer wanted to make eye contact so badly, but he had learned that none was better for acquiring "slaves".
The burly clown placed both hands on the table at which Dhamer sat, forcing him to look…Dahmer stared at the expertly done makeup on the strange and exciting man…he wanted to bite on that nose, bite until it bled, and then chew…
As if reality were obeying the dictums of his fantasies, the man's face closed in, and it was all Dahmer could do to resist the urge to lunge forward and express his "love" for this creature. In an experience even more painful than the initial hours of waiting for the show to start, Dahmer summoned every ounce of restraint he had to not bite the man's face, but, instead, acquiesce to a more conventional French kiss. Dahmer wanted so badly to chomp the man's tongue…
After what seemed like an eternity of wretched self-denial, the man pushed off from the table and walked seductively back to the stage to end his show.
After the clown concluded his act with a final suggestive slide, in the midst of the uproarious cheers, he pointed to Dhamer…
"Yes…yes…come on…" Dahmer silently pleaded, though he knew none was required, for he had seen that look so many times. He knew what was coming next.
And just as Dahmer had predicted, the fat performer walked slowly toward Dahmer's table with a mischievous grin on his face.
He took a seat, "You're one hell of a kisser, cutie", Gacy lied, he'd gotten better tongue from nine year olds.
"Thanks" Dahmer said shyly.
"I think a kiss like that is worth at least a drink".
"Oh come on, I love what you do, that was quite a performance, it should be me who buys you a drink"
"Nonsense, sweety…"
Dahmer tried to protest further, but before he could get the words out, the clown pounded on the bar next to Dahmer's table, exclaiming "Hey syd, one for me and my friend here".
"Eh, what the hell", Dahmer thought, "I just won't drink so much…but then, if I don't he might be insulted…nonsense, he belongs to me, no the other way around".
"I'm kinda new here, you a regular?"
"I used to be…I might just be again if they keep hiring entertainers like you…"
And as soon as the words passed Dahmer's lips, he almost visibly berated himself for it; what was he doing? He was playing right into this whimsical fatty's game!
"Ah, you're too kind sugar", Gacy said coyly.
When the bartender ("Syd") slid the brews down the bar to Gacy's eager grasp, he yelled to Dahmer "You're in gooood hands little guy!" and threw in a little wink.
"I'm sure", thought Dahmer.
"Say hun, you ever play 'chug'em?"
"Beg pardon"?
"It's just a nick name me and some of the guys came up with for this drinking game we picked up. None of us know what it's actually called, but I think our name fits…"
"Can't say I have…" Dahmer lied…at least, he thought he waslying .
"Well, you know what they say about first times", the big man smiled, "and I know you're bound to have had a few of those " and he said this, he threw in a free stroke of Dahmer's crack.
Dahmer thought he could not become any more aroused, until the man had touched him…
"'heh, yeah, guess so"…
"What?" Dahmer's inner voice railed.
And so the evening went on, they played at Gacy's game for about twenty minutes or so…then thirty, then forty, and each time Dahmer told the clown he'd had enough, the big man managed to convince him to have "just one more"…
Just as Dahmer thought he'd lost all capacity for rational thought (something he, admittedly, was not very fond of) an idea entered his head: "Now's the perfect time to show him MY world…assuming I can still stand…"
"Say Now!", shouted Dahmer, rising to his feet, and consequently almost tumbling over, "Why don't you come out back and I'll, *hic* show ya something…funny…know what I mean?"
"Ha! You sure you can even motivate, cake?" responded Gacy. The man had imbibed more than twice what Dahmer had, but he was an experienced drinker, and his frame lent him tremendous fortitude in situation such as this…
"What're ya, *hic* talking about? 'Course I can, just follow meh…"
At that point Dahmer tripped and nearly landed square on his nose, but he was so wasted, a laugh came out when an "ow!" should have.
Gacy nearly doubled over himself, but with laughter.
Dahmer quickly picked himself up and began motioning for the door, signaling Gacy to follow. When Gacy only tried to stifle further laughter, Dahmer took to tugging on his fat arms to get him to follow.
"Alright, alright, there, little buddy, let's go see what's so 'funny'", Gacy said mischievously.
He took Dahmer in his arms and the two stumbled out of the club.
When the pair reached the alley, Dahmer had, fortunately, regained enough cohesion to walk on his own once more. Abruptly, he bolted out of Gacy's embrace spouting "Woah now, woah!"
"What is it sweetie, we're just getting some air…"
"I know! I mean, I know we are, it's just, I wanna show you something…"
"I bet you do", Gacy chuckled.
"No no, it's in my car…"
"I kinda figured that's where we were going anyway."
"No I mean…I want you stay here while I go get it. Just…stay here, I'll be back."
"You wouldn't run out on me, would you honey?" Gacy inquired pitifully.
"I swear I'll be back, this is gonna be so cool."
"So cool, huh? Well, alright sugar, but I'm gonna be a sad clown if you don't hurry back", and Gacy stuck his finger to his chin in a mock-sad gesture.
"Don't worry, I'll be right back"
So off Dahmer ran, leaving Gacy somewhat taken aback in the alley.
Gacy leaned against the brick wall of the club. He took out a compact to admire his reflection, and noticed his makeup was smeared. He sighed and turned his face to the wall, determined to not let this night's clown theme dissipate.
On any other night, Dahmer would have drilled first and left foreplay for later, which would often coincide with dinner…
But tonight, Dahmer had been duped, drugged, deceived into lowering his guard. For much more than a moment, Dahmer considered perhaps not killing this one afterall, that he'd finally found someone who understood him.
But Dahmer knew that was not only wishful thinking, but deluded thinking as well, brought on by the Machiavellian mind of this…creature. He had to dispose of it, even if he loved the sight of it, and fast.
He normally kept a bag for suffocating purposes on his person at most times, but generally only employed it when he knew the toy had no means of escape…but he was not thinking clearly.
He saw Gacy primping near the wall. He snuck up on him, though not nearly as cautiously as he usually snuck, jumped on the big man, and covered his head in the plastic, screaming as he did.
Shocked and confused, Gacy at first fell backward, almost pinning Dahmer with his back, but Dahmer slipped off his shoulders just in time to keep him from falling down. It was no easy task holding the fatty up.
Dahmer pulled back, tightening the bag, leaving as little room for escape as he possibly could. Gacy flailed, his arms waving wildly through the air, glancing Dahmer in the face with elbows a few times, but causing hardly enough pain to daunt the determined killer.
Dahmer could hear the muffled screams of his large prey; Dahmer knew the sound well: like that of a cartoon character that had just had something shoved in its mouth, yet refused to give up attempts at vocalization. It was music to his ears.
Suddenly, Gacy, regaining his sense of what was going on, reached up to the spot of the bag blocked his mouth and poked two holes in it. He then ripped the bag off his face while thrusting himself forward, launching Dahmer backwards, falling down on his back.
Dazed, Gacy hunkered over, gasping for air. His vision was blurry, and he was too busy reacquainting himself with precious oxygen to be aware of his assailant's next move:
Dahmer immediately rose to his feet, staggering a little, still in the throes of the drunkenness the nasty creature had given him. The alcoholic delirium did not, however, erase any cognizance of the "materials" he had hidden out here. While Gacy was still panting, he dashed over to some crates not far from the area at which he fell, and retrieved from behind them a pipe and a battery powered hand drill.
He took the latter object I hand while stuffing the other down the back of his pants, and charged in, the shrill sound of the drill leading the way.
He then lunged at the crouched Gacy…only to be caught by a surprisingly quick adversary…
Dahmer was taller than the fatty, and he put all of his body weight into his assault. This gave him an edge against the already-near-the-ground, shorter opponent. Dahmer bared down on the drill's trigger, as if pressing it hard enough would automatically place it in the middle of his pudgy face…
Thinking quickly, Gacy held onto his attacker's hands, all while rolling onto his back: this sent Dahmer spiraling over head, dropping his drill beside Gacy's shoulder.
Gacy was fast to rise to his feet; he drew a knife from his skirt, "You got it all wrong sweetheart…", he purred, and charged in…
Dahmer only barely regained his footing before Gacy's knife could find its mark; he narrowly sidestepped and smacked Gacy's arm with his pipe. An anguished yelp came out of Gacy, and a knife fell out of his hand…
The strike caused Gacy to reflexively clutch his arm. This allowed Dahmer the opportunity to smash his face with his weapon, which he did…
Gacy went down for the second time this night, and he hadn't even had the good stuff yet. He was now in a far less coherent state than before, but he'd been in this situation many times before: his victims and would-be (or would-have-been) victims had fought back viciously to defend themselves, often leaving Gacy right where he was then…albeit somewhat more conscious…
But pain seldom incapacitated Gacy…it usually just made him mad. Today was no exception.
Seeing his foe down, Dahmer instinctively went to his favored torture and dismembering device, only to find the fall had broken the drill. Enraged, he reached down the back of his pants to a weapon he'd brought along "just in case", a large machete.
He ran over to the dizzy clown, "I'll cut you're fuckin head off!"
As Dahmer raised his hands t bring down the cruel weapon upon the head of the wicked clown, he looked up, following the procession of his weapon through the air, but before he could look back down, a sharp pain took him…
He froze for a second, allowing the pain to register, then looked down to find a grinning jester with his knife shoved into Dahmer's stomach…apparently he hadn't fallen far enough from where the knife fell not to grab it again…
Dahmer staggered backward, the pain causing him to grip his weapon all the more tight. Out of the corner of his blurring vision, he could see the big man rising to his feet. He began mindlessly swatting at the air with his blade in effort to stave off the unforgiving clown, all while trying to back up to a safer distance…until something knocked the blade right out of his hands…a baseball bat?
Where did he get a… but before Dahmer could finish his thought, the heavy wooden object sailed right across his jaw, putting him square on the ground.
"Ya learn a thing or three in the home entertainment biz, cupcake', Gacy said snidely, seeing Dahmer's confusion before falling.
Gacy pounced on his prey, adopting the stance a lover might adopt, with his left right next to Dahmer's head, propping himself up, but with his right arm wiggling the knife around inside Dahmer's stomach…
A pitiful "hrnngh" was all Dahmer's blood-filled mouth would allow. Gacy continued to wriggle the blade, basking in his victim's suffering.
But Dahmer was not quite done yet…
In the throes of death, Dhamer turned his head to see the same plump, juicy fingers he'd seen earlier in the night, the same fingers he'd restrained himself from biting into as per social rules as they stroked his hair. But now, no such rules needed to apply, and Dahmer had been hungry the moment he laid eyes on this accursed creature…
Writhing in agony, Dhamer lashed out with his teeth, biting into the fat man's finger, the gripping pain in his lower body only serving to intensify the bite…
Dahmer did not have to bite long before completely severing the digit form the man's hand.
How that fat man howled then! Blood squirted all over Dahmer's face, perhaps the last bit of pleasure he would experience. The big man rolled off his prey, putting blood wherever there was none to be had, grasping his maimed appendage in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.
He rolled a good distance from Dahmer, allowing him to attempt to rise. He got up on his feet, machete just as tight in his grasp as before, and slowly began stalking toward his nemesis…
Very slowly.
Dahmer had lost so much blood, and his body was crying out with everything it could for a working stomach. But this didn't stop him from wanting to finish this thing that had so played with his emotions, so…he could barely think.
By the time Dahmer reached Gacy, he was already on his feet, the blood from his finger having slowed in its bleeding. Before Dahmer could even curse his enemy, he fell to his knees.
Gacy lurched toward Dahmer and bent down to caress his face. He then gave him a long kiss, and promptly snapped his neck.
Ignoring all of his bodies cries of pain in favor of the exhilaration of the kill, Gacy flung his head to the sky and let out a primal scream of victory.
Victor: GacyConclusion/Aftermath
Gacy's personality was a major factor in his victory. His silver tongue and ineffable charisma ensnared Dahmer right from the start, immensely complicating his moves from that point onward. Gacy could also take the punishment Dahmer could not.
Don't miss the next installment of my Deadliest Warrior Fanfics:
SHREDDER from Ninja Turtles VS Skeletor from He-Man
