Title: Coulrophobia by Lexikal
Fandom: IT (the Stephen King story) crossed with Criminal Minds
Rating: M for violence, language, etc...
Warning: Because this story is partially based on "IT" (this is an "IT" and "Criminal Minds" crossover) this story DOES contain the murders of children. I haven't tagged it as a tragedy as none of the major characters from either "IT" or "Criminal Minds" actually die, but it does contain death... "Pennywise" is, after all, a child-murderer.
Summary: What if Pennywise wasn't an eternally evil supernatural being, but a flesh-and-blood cannibalistic serial killer known as "Bob Gray"? A sadistic predator of children who the team must stop before he kills again? And what if his father had trained him to "follow in the family footsteps", so to speak... a tradition of murder dating back over 200 years? Interested? Then read on... and please review! Oh yeah, and the title "Coulrophobia" is the technical term for a Clown phobia.
Author's Note: Obviously I don't own the characters from "Stephen King's IT" or "Criminal Minds". No money is made from this... my only payment are the reviews I get from readers. (Hint, please review!)
And yes, I realize "Derry" is a fictional town in Maine, and doesn't actually exist.
"Childhood is a promise that is never kept."- Ken Hill
March 15, 2010, Derry, Maine, 3:16 pm...
He watched from his place in the storm drain; wig and bald cap firmly in place with spirit gum, red rubber nose firmly snug, white grease paint thick and a little bit oily. It was raining, and the water was trickling in, a medium brown, like diluted coffee. It was almost too perfect, too easy. The child playing not 20 feet away in a shallow puddle was wearing a yellow rain jacket and stomping up and down happily.
Like Georgie... one of his father's firsts.
Robert Gray Junior let his eyes- an unnatural yellow due to specially made contact lenses- gaze towards the sky. It was a robin's egg blue, a rainbow just starting to blossom in the sky as the clouds parted and the sun split through like a cleaver.
The clown in the storm drain glanced up and down the street, but it was empty. Except for the kid, of course. He'd stalked this kid for weeks, and knew the boy's routine. Knew that this kid, in particular, was often left unattended for long periods and that his house was fairly secluded. By the time anyone heard him scream (if they heard him scream), and could respond, well... it was too perfect.
The storm drain was only about a foot high, but not barred. Not anymore. That gave him enough room to at least grab the kid. He wouldn't be able to pull him completely inside, of course, but he could... get a taste. It was now or never.
"Hey... Tommy..." He called in the raspy, slightly goofy mock-voice his father had taught him when he'd been growing up. The "hunting" voice his father had called it. The voice was as important as the costume, and dated back over 200 years.
The kid looked up, turning around. He looked confused.
"Tommy! Over here!" Bob Gray called melodically. He reached one gloved hand out and beckoned the boy. The boy gaped, as if not believing what he was seeing, but came closer. As if hypnotized. Like they all did.
Ten feet away... five feet away... Three feet away now. Almost close enough to grab. Almost. But if he got loose... no. He'd have to wait...
That was the beauty of seven year olds. They were too stupid for their own good.
"Are- are you a clown?" Thomas Doogle said as he approached the killer. "What... what are you doing down there?" The child stooped and stared into the storm drain, narrowing his eyes for a better look.
"This rain we've been havin'... it washed me away! Right from the circus! Can you believe that?"
The boy licked his lips nervously. Robert Gray beamed his friendliest smile. Thomas smiled back uncertainly.
"I- I have never seen a clown in the sewers before..."
Robert Gray bent down and opened a bag he'd brought with him. Pulled the wriggling, warm body up. Held it up to the young boy. So the kid could see.
"Have you ever seen a puppy in a sewer before?" Gray said, giggling delightedly. The boy's eyes almost bugged out of his head. Gray knew the kid was his now; he'd heard this kid babbling about Chocolate Labs for well over a year.
"Is that...? That's my favourite type of dog!" The boy crooned in delight, making a move to pet the animal. The puppy whined and wriggled in the white, gloved hands. But then, at the last moment, the kid pulled back. Gray felt his heart racing, the excitement of the hunt fully underway. If he lost this kid now... there would be a witness. A child rambling about a clown in a storm drain with a puppy, but still... he didn't want that.
"What do you say, kiddo? How about a pat for good old Fido here?"
"Does he bite?" Thomas said uncertainly, glancing quickly back over at his house. If his father saw him talking to a stranger... no matter how weird the circumstances... he'd be in trouble. But no. His father still wasn't home. Wouldn't be home till 5 again, probably. Maybe later.
"Nah, he doesn't bite." The clown said, grinning wider.
"Well... I don't know..." Thomas said uncertainly and reached his hand out slowly.
"How 'bout we make a deal? I can't exactly take care of him down here, now, can I? If he likes you... he's yours! How is that for a deal, Kiddo?"
Tommy Doogle grinned from ear to ear. That sounded like one hell of a deal! Even his father had said that if he could save up the money needed for the dog, he'd let him get it. Tommy so far had 50 dollars saved from his paper route and mowing lawns, and from some snow shovelling from the previous winter, but the pups he wanted were over 200 dollars. But this puppy! It was even better than the certified chocolate labs he'd seen in Portland!
"You mean it? I can just... have him?"
"'Course ya can have him. I told you, I got swept down here by the rain, and I'm guessing this little guy did, too... I have no use for him. And I can't take him with me. No dog food at the Circus, only people food..."
That was all it took.
Tommy's arm shot out and he reached towards the puppy.
Bob Gray's hunting instincts took over then. The puppy was immediately dropped and forgotten like the bait it was and he grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him towards the grate, relishing the sound of the bright, neon scream that pierced the air. An electric, anguished scream. There was a ripping sound, and then... oh yes. The kid slumped and began to convulse. The bright red essence splattering and running and mixing with the rain water.
He hadn't even had the time to scream for help. It had been that fast. A clean kill.
Bob Gray pulled on one of the arms, but it wouldn't come off... he felt in the bag and pulled out his buck knife.
He was hungry.
"Victim is Thomas Doogle, aged seven, from Derry, Maine," J.J. told the team, flicking a button on the projector. A school portrait of the smiling, gap-toothed 7 year old was projected onto the overhead. The all-American boy next door, the type of kid that looked like his goal in life was to grow up to be a soldier or a fireman, and like his favourite game might be playing "War".
"He was found about 5 pm yesterday," J.J. clicked a button again and another photograph appeared. The boy slumped over in the street, in the curb, a wide puddle of crimson blood surrounding his head and missing arm. Another click and there was a close-up shot of the face; shock-white, mouth open in an eternal scream, eyes open and unseeing.
"The M.E. estimated that he was killed about two hours before his body was discovered," J.J. continued with a sigh.
"2 hours?" Rossi asked, staring hard at the image of the child's corpse. "The boy was 7? Why wasn't he noticed missing sooner?"
"His school lets out at 2:45 p.m. and he was being raised by his father... his mother died in 2006 from breast cancer. The father didn't get home until 5:00 pm." J.J. said sadly.
"Plus, Maine is statistically one of the safest states to live in," Reid piped up. "Many people move there specifically to raise children, and Derry is a small town with a population of 15,368 people."
"Probably the kind of place where people still feel safe leaving their doors unlocked," Prentiss murmured. There was another click, and another child appeared.
"This is Bonita Hayes, also seven. Like Thomas, she was found mutilated, only three days earlier. Unlike Thomas, whose arm was partially ripped, and then cut from his body, teeth marks were found where the flesh had been..." J.J. lowered her voice, expression grim. "...bitten and then...ripped away from her face and chest."
"They do a dental impression and run it?" Hotch asked as J.J. flipped through the crime scene images of the girl.
"Yes, that confused the local coroner. The death was first ruled a mauling, blamed on wolves if you can believe it..."
"Why?" Hotch said.
"Bonita was found in the middle of the woods, a local hot-spot for slightly older kids to hang out in, apparently. She'd been dragged through the underbrush for quite some distance, and based on her injuries, dragged very quickly, like, well... like a dead animal in something's mouth, something four-legged, according to the coroner's initial findings. The teeth marks were... decidedly canine in shape. We're talking fangs here, not normal human incisors. Whoever...or whatever... did this..."
"Humans can modify their physical appearance with plastic surgery and can file down their teeth," Hotch said evenly. "Combined with the fact that there is evidence of cannibalism in both cases, we're most likely looking at a disorganized killer suffering from severe delusions."
"The consumption of human flesh and blood has been considered, throughout the ages and many cultures, to be of significant restorative benefit. Many primal tribes today still believe that consuming the flesh or blood of their enemies will give them the power or knowledge or other attributes of the dead... and in the case of children, whose blood also carries potential religious significance..." Reid rambled and then stopped when he realized the entire team had fallen silent and was staring at him.
"What?"Reid said, glancing around.
"How many other suspicious deaths involving young children being partially eaten have been reported in Derry?" Hotch said, turning back to J.J.
"11 in the last 6 months," J.J. said in a sombre tone.
'Why didn't we get this case sooner?" Hotch asked, obviously exasperated.
"The locals were certain these children were mauled by wolves or wild dogs, apparently."
"Despite the fact that wolves are generally timid around humans, even children, and won't attack unless provoked, and that compared to most other predatory mammals they rank amongst the least threatening for their size and predatory potential..." Reid stopped again. "Sorry."
"What, no statistics, kid?"
"Actually..."
"Actually," Hotch interjected. "Grab your go-bags. Wheels up in 15. You two can discuss canines on the jet."
"Yes, sir," Reid said, ducking his head, waiting until Hotch was out of earshot before turning his attention back to Morgan.
"I do have statistics on wolf attacks on humans, Morgan, but..."
"Do you have statistics for how many people file their teeth down, attack and then eat children in North America every year?" Morgan said bluntly. Reid looked confused.
"Not yet, but once Garcia gives me the file and the stats for Derry I might be able to..."
"Forget it," Morgan scoffed, shaking his head as he marched off to get his things.
"What?" Reid called as he proceeded to his own desk to get his bag.
Sorry this chapter is so short, I just wanted to post this to see how it does/whether anyone likes the idea (so if you read it and liked it, please review). I don't plan on abandoning it, but it might be put on the back burner if it doesn't do well... so if you like it and want more, be sure to let me know! Thanks for reading!