The Laughing King

The Boy In The Red Coat

The card in my pocket said 21:00:00. Flat. No countdown. No tick. Like it was holding its breath.

Mirexa's said 58:38:14. Still dropping, slow. Punishment bleeding out by the second.

We stood on Canal Street, soaked, watching steam rise off the asphalt where the flood had been. No one else remembered the water. People stepped around puddles that weren't there anymore. A guy yelled at a cab. A woman bought coffee. The city had already edited the last ten minutes.

"The kid," Mirexa said. She was wringing out her coat. "Red coat. He was here. Then he wasn't."

"He's been here since Statton," I said. "Maybe since the train."

"Kaedris Ulm," she said. "That's what the files called him. In the clinic. The patient who vanished. He left a note in the chart before I even saw him. Said 'You're already late.'"

I looked at her. "You didn't mention that."

"You didn't ask." She pulled the Joker card from her pocket. The ink under the smile had changed again. He was the seventh. Now it said, He's the first.

First what?

My phone buzzed. Not a call. A text. Unknown number. One line.

Elm and 4th. Basement. Knock three times.

No name. No signature. But I knew the cadence. Nyxorin.

"Nyxorin Hale," I said. "She wants to meet."

"How do you know?"

"Because only hackers text like they're writing ransom notes." I showed Mirexa the phone. "Elm and 4th. That's her territory. Dark. No cameras."

"She's on the Carnival list," Mirexa said. "Marcus was her brother. If she knows that, she's not waiting to talk."

"She's waiting to see if I'm the reason he's dead." I put the mask in my bag. "Let's not disappoint her."

Elm and 4th was a dead block. Warehouses with boarded windows, one bodega with a flickering sign, and a church that had been closed since the nineties. The basement was under the church. 

We found the door behind the altar. No lock. Just wood, swollen from years of rain. I knocked three times.

The door opened before the echo died. 

Nyxorin Hale didn't look like her photo. The photo had a woman with dyed hair and tired eyes. This one had a shaved head, blackout lenses, and a hoodie that said "I READ YOUR EMAIL" in white block letters. She was maybe twenty five. She was definitely angry.

"You're wet," she said. Not hello. Not come in.

"Station flood," I said. "You see it?"

"I saw the water main report. Said it was a pressure test. City's lying." She stepped back. "Inside. Now. You're being watched."

We went in. The basement was a server farm and a nest. Towers humming, cables everywhere, three monitors, two energy drink towers, one cot. No windows. No exits except the way we came.

She shut the door. Bolted it. Then a second bolt. Then a third. 

"Six years," she said. She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Mirexa. "You treated Marcus."

Mirexa went still. "I treat a lot of people."

"Six years ago. Statton General. Gut wound. He gave a fake name. You stitched him and told him to run." Nyxorin's voice didn't shake. That was worse. "He didn't. He got on the 7:02. He never got off."

"I don't remember every patient," Mirexa said.

"You remember him." Nyxorin turned one monitor. It showed a photo. A boy, sixteen, grinning, holding a skateboard. "Because he asked you if you believed in ghosts. You said no. He said you would."

Mirexa's face did something small. A crack. "I... maybe. There were a lot of kids that year."

"There was one," Nyxorin said. "And you let him go."

"Enough," I said. "She didn't put him on the train. The Carnival did."

Nyxorin finally looked at me. The blackout lenses showed my reflection. No eyes. Just me. "The Joker," she said. "The Laughing King. You made the news."

"I made a scene."

"You made a target." She tapped a key. The other monitors woke up. Feeds. Statton. 8th Street. The alley behind the clinic. All me. All now. "They're tracking you. Facial rec, gait analysis, heat. You're loud."

"Good," I said. "Loud keeps them looking at me instead of you."

"Don't flatter yourself." She pulled up a file. It was titled LZR-07. My chest did something stupid. "Project Lazarus," she said. "You know it?"

"Heard it," I said. "In a chamber under the city. Said I was Subject 07."

"Yeah." She scrolled. Photos, scans, notes. A kid in a white room. A kid taking tests. A kid laughing while a man with a clipboard frowned. The kid was me. "They built you. Took orphans, geniuses, kids who didn't matter. Trained them to think. To plan. To win. Then they let you go. To see if you'd survive."

"Why?" Mirexa asked.

"To make leaders," Nyxorin said. "Or weapons. Depends who you ask. Marcus was LZR-12. He failed. They cut him loose. He tried to warn people. That's why he was on the 7:02. He was going to meet a reporter."

"He never made it," I said.

"No," Nyxorin said. "Because Selric Dorne was supposed to be on that train. To stop it. To save him. But Selric called in sick. So Marcus died. And Selric got a card six years later."

The room went quiet except the servers. 

"Selric went down," I said. "Into the station. Into the door. He's part of it now."

"Good," Nyxorin said. "He should be. He buried my brother."

"He's not the one you want," I said. "The Carnival is."

"The Carnival is a symptom," she said. "Lazarus is the disease. And the Eclipse Circle is the doctor."

Mirexa stepped forward. "You have proof?"

"I have this." Nyxorin opened another file. Video. Grainy. A room. A table. Seven chairs. Six men in suits. One empty chair. On the table, a mask. White. Cracked. "They made you before you made you," she said. "The Laughing King was a role. They cast you in it."

I looked at the mask on the screen. Then at the one in my bag.

"No," I said. "I picked the mask. They picked the name."

"Same thing," she said.

The door rattled. One bolt. Then two.

Nyxorin didn't move. "We're out of time."

"Who?" Mirexa asked.

"Not police," Nyxorin said. "They don't knock."

The third bolt snapped. The door opened.

A kid walked in. Red coat. Hood down. Kaedris Ulm. Twelve, maybe. Pale. Eyes too old. He looked at me, then at Nyxorin, then at Mirexa.

"You're late," he said to me.

"You keep saying that," I said. "I'm starting to think you're wrong."

He smiled. It wasn't a kid smile. It was a knowing smile. "Am I?" He held up a hand. Five fingers. Then four. Then three. Then two. Then one.

The monitors went black. All of them.

Then one came back. A single line of text, white on black.

Welcome back, Subject 07.

Nyxorin swore. She hit keys. Nothing. "They're in. They're in my system."

"How?" Mirexa asked.

Kaedris pointed at me. "He brought them."

"I didn't bring anything," I said.

"You brought the earpiece," Kaedris said. "From the hunter. It wasn't dead. It was sleeping. It woke up when you got close to her servers."

Nyxorin looked at me. "You idiot."

"Thanks," I said. "Where's the back door?"

"There isn't one," she said. "I built this place to be a tomb if I needed it to be."

"Good," Kaedris said. "Because you're going to need it."

The lights went out. Emergency red came on. The same color as Statton. The same color as the wax.

A voice came through the servers. Not the old voice. A new one. Younger. Amused.

"Hello, Nyxorin," it said. "Hello, Kaelor. Hello, doctor. And hello, me."

Kaedris waved at the speaker. "Hi."

Mirexa stepped back. "What?"

"He's not a kid," I said. "Not really."

"Subject 01," Nyxorin said. "The first. The prototype. They made him to predict. He doesn't see the future. He remembers it. Because he's lived it before."

Kaedris nodded. "Many times."

"Why help us?" I asked.

"Because this time," he said, "I want to see what happens if you win."

The door we came through blew inward. Not exploded. Removed. Like someone took the wall off. 

Standing there was the man from the clinic. The one who smiled and said "welcome back." No burns. No wounds. Just a suit and a circle tattoo on his wrist. The cancel symbol.

"Subject 12," Nyxorin whispered. "Marcus."

He looked at her. His smile didn't change. "Hello, sister."

"You're dead," she said.

"I was," he said. "Then I wasn't. Lazarus doesn't waste assets." He looked at me. "You took my seat, Seven. I want it back."

The countdown on my card burned. I pulled it out. 21:00:00. It was ticking down again. Real time now.

"Twenty-one minutes," Kaedris said. "Again. You like that number."

"What happens in twenty-one minutes?" Mirexa asked.

Marcus stepped into the room. "One of you dies," he said. "Or one of you joins. The Carnival needs a new host. The last one went down the stairs."

Selric.

"You're the new Carnival Master?" I said.

"No," Marcus said. "I'm the audition. Him too." He nodded at Kaedris. "We're both trying out. Winner gets the mask. The real one."

Kaedris shrugged. "I don't want the mask. I want the door."

"The Emperor's Door," I said. "What's behind it?"

"Me," Marcus said. "And you. And everyone we could have been." He looked at Nyxorin. "You spent six years looking for me. Here I am. Are you happy?"

She didn't answer. She was crying. She didn't wipe it away.

"Twenty minutes," the voice in the server said. "Rule is simple. One of you gives up your key. The key is your name. Your real name. The one Lazarus gave you. Say it, and you leave. Don't say it, and we take it."

"Nyxorin Hale," she said immediately.

Nothing happened.

"Not that one," Marcus said. "The other one. The one in the file."

She shook her head. "I don't..."

"LZR-06," Kaedris said. "You were six. You were supposed to be the hacker. You were too soft. They let you go. But they kept the name."

Nyxorin looked at me. "Don't."

"Don't what?" I said.

"Don't say mine." She looked at Marcus. "If you know it, say it. End this."

Marcus smiled wider. "I'm not here to end it. I'm here to start it." He looked at me. "Your turn, Seven. Kaelor Veyn is the name you picked. What's the one they gave you?"

I knew it. It was in the file. It was on the recording in the chamber. The name the voice used.

I didn't say it.

"Nineteen minutes," the server said.

"Say it," Marcus said. "Or she does." He looked at Mirexa. "Dr. Sol. You have a name too. Everyone in Lazarus does. Even the failures. Even the ghosts."

Mirexa backed up. "I wasn't... I'm not..."

"You were LZR-19," Kaedris said. "Medical. You were five. You cried during the tests. They said you were weak. They were wrong."

Mirexa put a hand to her mouth. "No."

"Eighteen minutes," the server said.

"Stop," I said. "This is the game. He wants us to turn on each other. We don't."

"Then you die," Marcus said. "All of you. And I get the mask anyway."

He stepped forward. Nyxorin grabbed a piece of cable. Mirexa had a scalpel. I had nothing but a bag and a cracked mask.

Kaedris sat on the cot. "You have seventeen minutes," he said. "But you've had six years. That's the joke."

I looked at him. "You know how this ends."

"I know how it ended last time," he said. "And the time before. And the time before that." He looked at Marcus. "You lose. Always. Because you think the key is a name."

"It is," Marcus said.

"No," Kaedris said. "The key is a choice. The name is just the lock."

Sixteen minutes.

I put the mask on. The world went quiet.

"Kaelor," Mirexa said. "What are you doing?"

"If you're still breathing," I said, "the joke isn't over."

I walked to Marcus. 

He didn't move. "You can't beat me, Seven. I'm you with six years of practice."

"No," I said. "You're me if I stopped laughing."

I hit him. Not the face. The wrist. The tattoo. The circle broke. He screamed. It wasn't a pain scream. It was a sound scream. Like something left him.

The lights came back. The servers rebooted. The countdown on my card stopped.

21:00:00. Frozen.

Marcus was on his knees. The smile was gone. He looked at Nyxorin. "I'm sorry," he said. His voice was his. Not the Carnival's. "I'm sorry I didn't come home."

Then he was gone. Not exploded. Not vanished. Just gone. Like he was never there.

The door was back. The wall was back. No hole. No sign.

Kaedris stood. "Well. That's new."

"What did you do?" Nyxorin asked me.

"I chose," I said. "Him over me."

Kaedris walked to the door. "Twenty-one minutes are up. You passed. For now." He looked at me. "Next time, it's her." He nodded at Mirexa. "Or her." He nodded at Nyxorin. "The Carnival takes. That's the rule."

He opened the door. It led to the church. To the street. To daylight.

"Where's Selric?" I asked.

"Down," Kaedris said. "Learning. Like you did. Like you will." He stepped out. "Don't be late."

The door closed. 

My card said 21:00:00. Still frozen.

Nyxorin sat down hard. "He was real."

"He was," I said. "And now he's not."

Mirexa looked at her hands. "LZR-19."

"Doesn't matter," I said. "That's not your name. Doctor is."

She laughed. It was a broken sound. But it was hers.

Nyxorin looked at me. "You're not what they built."

"I know," I said. "That's why they're scared."

I took the mask off. The crack caught the light.

"So," I said. "Who wants to rob the Carnival?"