"Wait! Where are we going? Where are you taking me?" Tamara demanded, but her mysterious companion did not reply. Instead, he only continued to drag her through this strange, carnival-esque place. She wanted dearly to stop him and demand a straight answer, but at the same time, she had the feeling that he knew this place far better than she ever would. As suspicious as it was, it meant he was her only chance of escape. If trusting him for a little while was what she had to do, then so be it.
After a brisk jog past several tents, Tamara found herself being dragged into an empty plane.
"What are we doing here? Where are we?" Tamara repeated her question. Then, all of a sudden, someone grabbed Tamara's shoulder. She yelped in surprise and whipped around, jumping back again in fear when she got a look at who it was that had touched her. It was a tiny girl who looked about her age, but her face was covered in white paint, save for a red dot on the nose and mascara running down the cheeks. She had wild dark hair and wore nothing but a leotard.
"How old are you?" she slurred.
"16," Tamara replied, taking another wary step back. The clown-girl gave a laugh that sounded like a hyena.
"I had my first religious fallout when I was 13," she cackled. "Thanks to God's 'Grace', I couldn't feel or remember a thing. A month later? I was turning tricks…" she gave Tamara a horrendous smile before doing a handspring away from her and back towards her companion.
"Eew," Tamara cringed, shuddering in disgust. What had that girl even meant? Religious fallout? God's Grace? She turned towards her companion, hoping he'd have an answer, but when she turned again to find him, he had suddenly been swarmed by a bunch of other clown-freaks. Tamara gasped lightly. Where had they all come from? It was like they'd just teleported in out of thin air. One second, it had just been him and her, and now, there was at least 15 people crawling around him like dogs begging their master for a slab of meat.
"What-?" she began to ask, but her companion only raised his head, gave her a relaxed expression, and hushed her. Then, he turned back down to the clowns crawling all around his feet and he began to purr.
"Drug market, sub-market. Sometimes I wonder why I ever got in. Blood market, love market. Sometimes I wonder why they need me at all!" his face suddenly contorted into a fury as he pushed one of the clowns away, but then the anger was gone as soon as it had come and he whipped out a large bottle of alcohol from his leather jacket. Where had he been storing that?
"God's Grace comes in a shiny glass bottle!" he sang, looking over at her whilst waving the large bottle high. The clowns suddenly increased in energy, gasping in delight as the glass glittered in the dim, red light.
"A shiny glass bottle?" Tamara echoed in confusion. This was too weird. All she'd wanted was a way home!
"A shiny glass bottle!" the clowns all replied in a creepy unison, painted faces turning to look at Tamara as they said this.
"And that shiny glass bottle pours into a mug oh-so easily and then the God's Grace mug burns all down through your anatomy and when the 'Grace' kicks in, it sparks and you're ready for eternity!"
Tamara's companion continued to dance around, pulling mugs out of his coat now too and passing them out to any clown with cash. He filled up mug after mug with his shiny glass bottle and every clown who received some of that alcohol tipped the entire mug back and downed the whole thing within seconds. Tamara, herself, wasn't offered even a single drop, but she could feel it in the air that something was changing. Something psychedelic was happening. All of the clowns looked almost hypnotized as they finished off their drinks and Tamara could almost feel a sleepiness washing over the crowd.
Suddenly, then, a cruel voice split the air and every head turned to see a new clown joining the party. This clown looked more like a doll, but the closer she got, the more horrific she looked. Tamara could see a score of cracks and cuts running all around the left half of her face and her eye was a frighteningly bright blue. It didn't look real! But her right eye, the real one, was no less haunting. It was far too moving and calculating for Tamara to feel comfortable under its hazel scrutiny. This pale, doll-like woman limped over to Tamara's companion, Scorpion (come to think of it, he'd never given her a name! How odd…) and grinned seductively up at him, tilting her head back sensually. Tamara could hear the sound of more bones (or porcelain?) cracking as she did this.
"Scorpion, Scorpion… Sometimes I wonder if I'll be forgiven. Scorpion, Scorpion. Sometimes I wonder why I need you at all!" her voice became more parched and aggressive as she sang this line, finally grabbing Scorpion by the lapels of his leather coat and pulling him in close. Scorpion didn't miss a beat, spinning her around in his muscled arms.
"And Painted Doll is addicted to her strife!" Scorpion continued.
"Addicted to her strife?" Tamara echoed. What did that even mean?
"Addicted to her strife!" the rest of the group confirmed obediently.
"But addicted to her strife, she needs a little help with the agony," Scorpion remarked.
"Agony!" the doll in question echoed, bending backwards in Scorpion's arm and putting a hand over her face in mock distress.
"But that little help comes in a shiny glass bottle in a mug burning through her anatomy," Scorpion told everyone in attendance, whipping out an especially large mug and filling it to the brim with this blood-red drink. "And when the 'Grace' kicks in, my Doll, is ready for eternity!" he cackled and she downed the entire mug within the few seconds it took him to sing this line. The effects were nigh-instantaneous. She began to sway and hum, eyes half shut as she crooned to Scorpion.
"Scorpion, Scorpion… Sometimes I wonder if I'll be forgiven. Scorpion, Scorpion. Sometimes I wonder why I need you at all!"
As the stench of the spirits grew stronger and stronger with every mug downed, even Tamara began to feel a bit woozy. Not a single drop of 'Grace' had passed her pink lips, but she was still feeling its effects and, wow, was it strong! She suddenly felt like she was floating on air, like her physical body had just evaporated away, leaving behind only a soul. It was strange but not entirely unpleasant. Tamara allowed the heavy smell of alcohol and the lightweight feeling of her body to combine in her swirling, spinning head. She could see from the looks of almost-ecstasy from the others that actually drinking this stuff would've produced a far greater effect.
"It's clean, it's clear, it's pure, it's rare, it takes you there!" the clowns all murmured in a monotonous chorus.
"It's what?" Tamara asked.
"It takes you there," Scorpion replied, presently the only fully sober one still within the crowd.
"It what?" Tamara repeated. The more she heard herself speak, the more alert and worried she felt.
"It takes you there," Scorpion repeated as well, still trying to sooth her with a gentle voice and reassuring words.
"After the fall, why agonize? Anesthetize! Cause eternity, eternity, is all we have. Grace changes inside, helps us feel…alive!"
The overall haziness of the group continued and jumbled chorus about feeling 'nothing at all' because there was 'grace for sale' which helped one cope with 'eternity' echoed around the circle of drunken clowns. At last, though, Scorpion whistled out a tune and Tamara had a burst of clarity. It was like hearing those simple few notes had pierced her mind and freed her from the fog.
"Hey, that's Heaven's songs!" she muttered. Bad choice of words.
"Who did that?!" Painted Doll demanded, voice harsh and loud once more.
"She did," Scorpion replied calmly, pointing at Tamara. Tamara looked at him angrily, but before she could speak, Painted Doll lunged at her.
"So you think you got hearts? So you think you got balls? So you think God can sing?" she demanded.
"I don't think nothing at all!" Tamara tried to reassure her, taking a step back, but Painted Doll only took another step forward in return.
"So you think God has pipes?" she shrieked. "Well, it's our turn to shine… When old Lucifer strikes!"
"What are you talking about?" Tamara was mystified. Was she in some Bible Belt state? Because she'd never heard so many Biblical references in one setting, except at the rare church service she attended. Painted Doll gave Tamara a scornful look before tossing her a pamphlet.
"Life's contract's got some mighty fine print," Scorpion explained as Tamara read the pamphlet.
"Some mighty fine print?" Tamara echoed, trying to make sense of the 666 Rules and the War on Heaven.
"Some mighty fine print!" some of the clowns echoed.
"And that mighty fine print puts man in a mighty fine predicament," Scorpion continued. "If one sins and kicks the soul is forfeit but if Satan and Keeper so will it, then our vengeance will come and God'll pay for eternity, eternity!" he continued to chat this concept of Lucifer overthrowing God to rewrite the rules of Hell and who is sent there but then, suddenly, a bear of a man appeared out of nowhere.
Seeing him struck fear into the hearts of even the drunkest of clowns and suddenly, it was a mad dash to get out of there. Suddenly, Tamara felt herself begin dragged along by the arm again, Scorpion doing the pulling as he continued to gloat over Hell's plan against Heaven. In the background, Tamara could still hear strains of the drunken song, "I can't feel nothing at all…"
AN: I know this is a little far-fetched, but I hope it wasn't too cringey. And here, "Grace" is a very intoxicating drink that only Hell can make. It is considered off limits without permission, hence Tamer showing up at the end. It basically behaves the way Zydrate does, giving even the most damned of souls a sense of salvation. It's meant to entice them to war. It's meant to be like a, "So you've tasted Heaven in this little bottle. Can you imagine how much better the real thing is?"