The elevator opened to a rectangular hallway. Across from the elevator were red double doors, they were inset in a mural of a clown identical to the one on the gates of the carnival. Jack glanced over at Mac and saw a flicker of fear that was gone as quick as it came.

"You ready for this?"

"Absolutely." Jack let the AR 15 hang from its sling and held it pointed at the floor. Mac shook the remaining two plastic containers then nodded at Jack. Mac kept the containers close to his leg and followed Jack through the doors.

"Well ain't this special," Jack muttered. Mac silently agreed. His blue eyes scanned the room, the arena; he corrected himself. The red door opened onto a platform that had a small staircase in front of it leading down into what looked to have been an Olympic sized pool. Along the edge of the pool stood the army of clowns. "That's a lot of clowns," Jack whispered.

"52," Mac replied. Jack gave a sarcastic smile.

"No problemo, they don't have guns." Mac scoffed. It was true, none of the clowns along the poolside had the familiar AR 15s. Most of the clowns had bladed weapons ranging from daggers to swords; a couple had spears, the rest had baseball bats or lead pipes. The clowns began to yell threats and heckle Mac and Jack.

"I thought clowns weren't supposed to speak," Jack whispered.

"I wish. Look there's our host." On a raised dais across from them, there was a large throne of red and gold. Mr. Punch paced in front of it yelling into a cell phone. He waved his empty hand. His face was purple and matched the bright purple tuxedo he wore. His head was bare, but his face was a Dia Del Muerte Baron Samedi.

"Somebody's having an unhappy day," Jack said with sarcastic sympathy. Mac smiled. Rising from behind the clowns were rows of bleachers stepping almost up to the ceiling. They were completely empty. "I hope he doesn't cancel this," Jack said seriously. Mac nodded. There had been the worry that without spectators Punch would leave in the huff and kill Riley, Bozer and the three remaining soldiers in retaliation.

"I think he will. Everything is about pride with him." Mac murmured. As if answering this prediction the man snarled and threw the cell phone into the arena. Punch paced then stopped and visibly calmed himself. He grinned and clapped his hands together.

"Ah, gentlemen, on time. I would have expected nothing more from the Army."

"Ouch, feel that bitterness?" Jack said with a smile.

"You're going to poke the bear aren't you?"

"Isn't that what bears are for?" Jack took a step forward and raised his voice. "Yeah they taught us that in the military, they were unusually strict in special forces, not that you would know anything about that would you Manley." Mac snorted, he didn't think anyone could make the man's name sound like a slur word more than Jack did. Mr. Punch sputtered, his hands formed into fists.

"You are going to pay for that!" The man's voice had risen two pitches. He made a motion. Heckyl and Jeckyl shoved Riley and Bozer forward. The two agents helped two heavily banded soldiers. Sam Walker shuffled behind them, holding his arm across his chest. He glanced up at Jack and smiled. Jack nodded but didn't change his expression. Jack wanted all of Punch's attention on him and Mac. "Maybe I should have them shot right now?" Heckyl and Jeckyl raised their AR 15s and grinned. Jack shared a glance with Mac who nodded. They slowly began to separate.

"Oh come on, Manley, I thought you liked the show the flare." Jack flashed jazz hands. He turned to Mac, "I told you he was a coward didn't I, bud." Mac grinned back, for all the world looking like he was relaxed.

"You did Jack. I didn't believe it but…" Mac shrugged.

"You! How dare you! You are not better than me! These are my games; I am in control." Jack stopped moving and casually braced his AR 15 for action. Mr. Punch's face changed. He got a sneaky smile on his face as he sat in his throne and slowly crossed his legs. Jack glanced at Mac. To his surprise, the younger man crept back to him. Jack eased in the blond's direction. "So I'm the coward? You brought a gun to fight some amateurs with a knife, are you scared?" Jack raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to reply when Mac caught his hand. Jack glanced at him and saw the glint in Mac's eye that meant the younger man had a plan.

"You're right. It would make us cowards to gun down all of the your...friends. Hell, they only have blades and clubs, after all, so we'll lay our weapons down and take them on one on one." Mac yelled. Jack frowned.

"We're going to do what now?" He whispered.

"Just trust me, lower your weapon as if you aren't going to use it." Jack smiled beginning to get Mac's idea.

"I like how you think." Jack relaxed his grip and even raised his hands letting the rifle hang loosely from its sling.

"I know." Mac moved the bottles behind his back and tried to look innocent. He looked up into the frightened eyes of Riley and Bozer. They had been forced to sit, probably on a bench. All the prisoners were bound and gagged. Mac offered them a smile he hoped was reassuring. Mr. Punch laughed.

"Very well, enter the arena. My friends will come at you one at a time."

"Yeah, right," Jack grumbled. The pair stepped down to the floor. They shared a nervous glance. The walls around the rectangular area were higher than they seemed from the top. The jeering clowns slowly filed down the stairs on the other side and streamed into the arena. They shook their weapons while yelling insults and making suggestive comments and lewd gestures. They eased forward. Jack and Mac waited. Mr. Punch stood up and laughed with a high porcine squeal.

"Get them! Smash them to bits and their bits to mush!"

"Well, now that's not nice," Jack said calmly lifting the AR 15. In short controlled bursts he dropped almost half of the writhing mass of angry clown coming their way. He pulled the makeshift blade out of his boot and shrugged the rifle across his back. Jack moved to step forward. Mac caught his arm.

"Not yet." The remaining clowns jumped over the corpses of their companions.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Trust me." Mac waited until the entire group was 20 feet away then lit the fuses and lobbed the two explosives. He grabbed Jack and spun him around. Both ducked their heads and covered their ears. The double explosions sent them to their knees. They shook their heads and staggered to their feet turning. There were about 15 clowns still standing. These pulled themselves together and yelled ran forward. Jack met them. The blade he held was dull so the best use of it would be straight thrusting attacks. Suiting the action to the word, Jack ducked a machete swipe and stabbed the clown in the throat. He left the hedge trimmers in the man's throat and took the man's blade instead.

A spear thrust toward him from his right. Jack ducked under it wincing as his right arm had raised automatically. He felt the bladed point scrape along his back.

Staying low, Jack pivoted and sliced the man across the abdomen. The man's eyes seemed to bulge as much as his red nose. Jack was dimly aware of the slosh of organs and blood; his focus was on the next attack. Three came at him simultaneously. Two went for his arms and one his chest. Jack dropped and swept the leg out from the one on his right side. He spun to his knee and slashed down almost slicing the man's head off. Jack rolled backward narrowly avoiding a scythe. Jack shook his head.

Never choose weapons by how cool they look. Jack kicked the handle of the scythe, and the unwieldy weapon fell from the man's hands. Jack slashed with the machete scoring the left femoral artery. Jack jumped to his feet and staggered as his leg protested and threatened collapse. The third clown pressed his advantage and slammed his baseball bat down at Jack's head. Jack managed to pivot enough, so he took the blow on his right shoulder. He fell to one knee crying out in pain. Agony rattled along the entire right side of his skeleton. He shook his head and saw the clown swinging for a home run. Jack relaxed and let himself fall backward onto his back. The clown overbalanced with the strength of his swing. Jack lashed out with his boot catching the clown on the knee. The clown swore. With his knee turned sideways, Jack hooked his left foot around the man's ankle and pulled toward him while lashing forward with his right foot. The man's knee twisted then snapped. The man screamed and dropped the baseball bat. Jack fell back moaning as the baseball bat landed on his sore sternum.

Jack forced air in his lungs and lurched to his feet. Somehow he still held the bloody machete in his left fist. A clown with a lead pipe came running at him. Seriously? The man had the pipe raised over his head and was making to slam it down on Jack's face. Jack didn't miss a step, he slashed the clown across the throat and stepped around his falling body.

Jack assessed the situation. Mac had a bat in his hand and was swinging a

Winning inning. Mr. Punch stood above them frozen in surprise. Their eyes met, and Jack smiled. Mr. Punch shouted something. Jack didn't get a chance to listen to a body slammed into his middle pulling him to the blood slick ground.

Jack had taught Mac that the only useful part of a baseball bat was only the first 4 inches of the thick end. Most people swung like they were going to hit a ball, this compromised the strength of the blow, could lead to shattering of the bat and cost valuable time with the momentum needed for an efficient swing and recovery. Mac used the bat horizontally to block and jabbed or hit at an angle.

Mac blinked sweat out of his eyes and winced as a punch snapped his head to his right, he staggered. The clown in front of him lashed out with a front stomp. Mac curled over his abdomen unable to suck in the air as he fell back. He curled up as his attacker, and two others kicked him. Mac cried out and swung the bat low catching one of the clowns across his ankle. Mac rolled in that direction swinging the bat up between another clown's legs. The man dropped without making a sound. Mac turned to the third clown and received a boot across his face. Mac fell back shaking his head trying to bring the world into focus. The edges of his vision wobbled and threatened blackness. He looked up in time to see the man swinging a bowie down at him with a double handed swipe. Mac rolled onto his back and managed to catch the man's hands. The man dropped knee first onto Mac's chest. Mac cried out in pain and felt something crunch. His arms went weak, and the knife came slicing down at him. Mac managed to lift his head to the side. The 10-inch blade sliced into his right ear lobe. Mac barely noticed. Bracing himself for agony, he slammed the top of his head into the bridge of the man's nose. Blood spurted, and the man screamed.

The man's grip on the knife loosened. Mac grabbed the handle and twisted. Now the knife was in his grip he slammed the handle up into the clown's broken nose. The man howled and ducked back. Mac raised up and bashed him in the nose again. The man fell backward off Mac. Mac curled to the side and coughed. He winced at the agony and frothy blood that spurted out. Nicked a lung.

"Kill them!" Mac looked up the two clowns watching the prisoners raised their rifles toward the prisoners. One of the soldiers, Sam-Jack, had said, Managed to tackle one. The other two soldiers piled on and fought as hard as they could Distracted, the other clown hesitated before raising his AR 15. In that pause adrenaline burning through him, Mac managed to raise up to one knee, aimed the knife and let it fly. Mac missed the man's arm. The clown had turned, so the knife plunged deeply into his chest over his heart. Mac let out a breath of relief then collapsed to the floor.

He heard a cacophony of gun fire and screamed; they seemed to echo down a long tunnel he was falling. His eyes grew heavy.

"Mac! C'mon man!" Mac knew Jack must have been shouting, but his voice sounded muffled by a strong wind. Mac's whole head painfully throbbed with his heart beat. He could dimly make out the blurry face of his partner and felt Jack lift up his shirt. Mac's head tipped to the side. Riley and Bozer, now free came skidding toward them. Mac let out a breath of relief, and his eyes sank shut.

Jack grimaced.

"Mac!" Bozer cried falling to his knees beside his best friend.

"Jack?" Riley asked her eyes wide with worry for both of them. The teams converged on the few left standing. Jack didn't see Mr. Punch.

"Dammit! Where is he?"

"What?"

"Punch, where is he?" Riley shook her head.

"Stay with Mac." Jack hissed staggering to his feet. His fury added strength to his battered body. He took off at a sprint. Recognizing him, two Phoenix tac team members fell in behind him. Jack whirled.

"Stairs?"

"This way." Jack followed the man gritting his teeth. His body felt like one giant bruise. He forced himself forward thinking of Hank, and all the other soldiers who lost their lives to this psycho. Jack found himself thinking of George and Mac. Nope, this dude is dead he just doesn't know it yet. In the lobby they found a small group of FBI and ATF agents on the ground, apparently shot. The national guard was guarding them as a group of medics worked on them. Jack ran around them.

Jack felt the pit of his stomach drop. The truck he'd parked in front of the door was gone.

"Son of a bitch!" He shoved through the door and scanned the parking lot. He blinked squinting past the flashing lights of all kinds of cop cars, fire trucks, and ambulances. There were hundreds of people scattered among the cars in the parking lot. A good number were hauled into paddy wagons. Jack ignored it all. He smiled. Punch had managed to cross to the darker side of the lot. The truck sat with its lights on. Over the commotion around them, he couldn't tell if it was running or not. Jack turned to the closest agent and held out a hand. It felt good to have a pistol in his hand again. He felt naked without it.

They ran to the truck. Jack waved to the other two agents. One ran around the truck; one covered the vehicle from the front. Jack inched up to the driver's side. The windows were too fogged for him to see anything inside. He glanced at the agent in front who nodded covering him. Jack ducked low, swung open the door and leveled his pistol.

"Holy shift!" The windows weren't covered by fog but by splattered by blood. Mr. Punch's head canted to the side a large chunk of his neck missing. There was no mistaking the claw marks on his chest or the teeth marks in his scalp. Jack smiled and looked at the back seat. George was calmly licking blood off the bottom of his right front paw. He looked up at Jack and blinked

"Good job, bud. Feel better?" Jack reached forward and scratched the panther behind his left ear. George leaned forward closing his eyes. The cat's throat rumbled with purring. Jack leaned against the truck. He let out a deep breath, his shoulders slumped. His leg finally quit. One of his men caught him and eased him down to the snow packed ground. Jack's body shook as the adrenaline faded.

"Hold on, Jack." The other agent said taking the gun from Jack's hand. Jack smiled up at him weakly.

"Don't worry, take your time. We're all good."