evolution

"Yo, so this dude, right? He's workin' the game booth, all smiles and shit for this chick hittin' on him. She's like, mid-thirties, blonde hair, dressed to kill, you know? She's all, 'So, you gonna give me that prize or what, hot stuff?'

He laughs, chill, and starts spinnin' the ball. Then he looks at her with those green eyes, all shiny under the lights, and goes, 'Well, you know how these things go, baby. But maybe tonight, you'll find somethin' a little more interestin'.'

She pulls out a note, writes down some address real quick, and slides it to him. Smirkin', she says, 'Room's by the beach, little hotel down the road... if ya got the guts.'

Her friends are all crackin' up. One of 'em pats her on the back, and they're all whisperin' some shady shit, makin' her laugh. She waves at him, then joins her crew, leavin' the note on the counter.

The dude just stands there, smilin', lookin' at the note. It's a weird smile, like he ain't really feelin' it. He reads it slow, then slips it into his pocket and heads into his booth.

Inside, the booth ain't just a little space for games. It's all set up, shelves full of little boxes. There's a mirror on the wall, showin' his calm face.

He opens a drawer, grabs this old metal case with makeup. He starts puttin' white stuff on his face, real slow and careful, like he's doin' some kinda ritual. Then he draws red lines around his eyes, and a big red smile. Lipstick, too. He stares at himself, then smiles. But it ain't a smile no more. It's more like a mask.

He puts on this colorful jacket, pulls up his baggy pants, and slips on some white gloves. He stands in front of the mirror, bows like he's in a play.

He walks out, all clown-like, wobblin' and stuff, waving at kids, jumpin' around, laughin'. Some people laugh with him, others just stare. But he don't care. It's his job, his thing.

But this time, he ain't just playin' the clown.

He walks away from the lights, slow and steady, towards this dark alley that leads to the address on the note. The beach ain't far, but this alley is deserted. Old buildings on both sides, lookin' all creepy.

He walks through the narrow alleys, towards this little hotel by the beach. The city behind him is all lit up, but here, it's quiet, just the sound of the waves.

He's walkin' all happy, jumpin' on one foot, spinnin' around like he's at a circus. He stops in front of a store window, looks at himself, smiles, then pulls out a knife from his jacket and waves it like a violin.

He finally gets to the room. The hotel's small, kinda dirty, with dim lights. He knocks Tok tok tok.... three times, like a drum solo, then leans against the door, foot up, lookin' at the sky.

her steps came from behind the door: 'I am coming

She opens the door، woman steps out, wearing short and provocative clothes... , but there's nobody there. Just the empty hallway and the sound of the ocean.

She raises an eyebrow, then turns around slow...

And there he is, a few steps away, in the shadows. Dressed all in black, lookin' real calm. In one arm, he's got the clown, knocked out cold, makeup all messed up.

The guy says, real sorry, 'Oh, hey. Sorry to bother you. This is my friend. He had a little too much to drink.'

She just stares. Then looks at the clown, then at his feet, then back at the guy with a weird look.

She's like, 'Uh, okay?'

He smiles, like it's no big deal, and adjusts the clown on his shoulder. 'Yeah, I figured I should bring him somewhere safe before he gets into trouble.'

She just watches him, then shrugs. 'Alright, I guess. I don't want to know.'

He nods, like he agrees, and starts walking away, dragging the clown behind him. She watches them go, then closes the door. And she doesn't see the knife on the floor.

The guy disappears into the hallway, his shadow moving on the walls.

The clown wakes up slow. It's dim, he can barely see the walls, but one thing's clear – the guy is sitting in front of him, spinnin' a red ball.

The clown smiles, big and crazy. 'Alright, this is a twist. But let's be real, what are you gonna do? Turn me in? Kill me? You don't look like the killin' type.'

The guy doesn't answer right away. He just stares at him.

The guy, in a quiet voice, but with something hidden in it, 'I never thought I was that kind of guy either.'

The clown, with a creepy smile, 'So why don't you just let me go? We can talk like civilized people.'

The guy gets closer, looks at him, and says, 'You go around hurtin' people, pickin' your victims, lookin' for their weak moments, and now you want me? You should've picked someone else.'

The clown, with a crazy smile, 'I'll find out everything about you. If I get away, I'll visit everyone you love, I'll make sure they feel every finger you cut off, hahaha.'

The guy sighs, looks at the clown, then walks past him. He goes to the sink, pulls out a sharp knife.

The clown doesn't see it, but he hears it.

Clown with a calm voice, broken up as he looks at his hands:

"You don't know... how many times I've been in this kinda spot. These ropes, even though they look simple, they carry a lot... heavy stuff, real heavy stuff... like memories, like those thoughts that just won't leave ya, huh?"

The clown keeps tryin' to untie the rope while the guy glances at him for a sec, then goes back to cleanin' the knife

The Guy steps forward slowly, moving the knife in his hand with a steady motion.

The Guy (with curiosity and calm):

"What's the thrill in all this?"

The clown (looking at his hands, then raising his eyes):

"The thrill? Heh, the thrill is just being here, in this moment, while you... you're just part of something bigger. You can't see the whole picture."

The Guy stares at him silently for a few seconds, then steps closer, his eyes locked on the clown while he slowly wipes the knife.

The Guy Says calmly :

"You're wrong. In the end, it's all about survival. Those who can't keep up... fade away."

There was an eerie silence as the man stepped closer, taking a step before pointing the knife at the clown's face and saying, "You think there's any fun in killing...?"Before he could finish his sentence…

Suddenly, the clown makes an unexpected move, breaks free, and knocks the knife out of the man's hand in a flash.

jumps up, kicks the chair away, and runs for the door.

The guy quickly grabs the knife and starts chasing him

He grabs the clown by the collar, pulls him back. The clown tries to fight, but the guy is stronger. He takes the knife and stabs him right in the side،The knife snaps in fast, slicing through the skin on his side.

Agheeeh! the clown screams in pain.

In a moment of desperation, the clown head-butts the guy, hard enough to make him step back, holding his nose. The clown takes the chance and runs for the door again.

This time, the guy grabs him tighter،Holding his head, he slammed his face against the door with a loud thud The clown's head shakes The shock makes him stumble back for a moment, then he slowly collapses to the ground

،and he can't fight back anymore.

,The bloodstains smeared across the floor ،"While he yanked him by his clothes،dragged him to the cente of the room…The clown lets out a faint groan, trying to move his hands, but exhaustion weighs him down.

The man pulls the sharp knife out, under the clown's terrified gaze،And he starts bringing it down on the clown's helpless body, without mercy.

and starts stabbing him over and over. The clown's face loses color, his hand shakes, but he can't even scream.

The clown's eyes are all bloodshot as he watches the dude's hand go up and down, hitting his body Before he breathes his las .'F-uk...'

The guy takes a few steps back, looks at the clown convulsing in a pool of blood. His clothes are covered in red, his hands are bloody.

He looks at his hand, it's shaking. 'Hoof~, I tied him up good.'

The clown stops moving, and the guy looks at him, alert.

He takes a deep breath, calms down, and walks closer to the body. He lifts the clown's head, and his face is a mess of colors and chaos. The white paint is cracked, His nose is crushed, blood pouring out from the force of the last hit. ،dirty with dark spots, and the red paint from his smile is mixed with blood, making his lips look stretched out, like a crazy, permanent smile.

His wide eyes are surrounded by dark circles, the paint smudged by sweat, tears, and snot before he passed out. There are red lines from the corners of his lips to his cheeks, but not all of them are paint... some are still fresh blood, slowly dripping down his stained skin.

His red plastic nose has fallen beside his head, leaving a dark spot where it was glued, like his skin refused this identity even in his last moments. Between his eyebrows, there are lines of fear, a slight deformity amidst the chaos of colors.

The guy couldn't take it anymore. He felt something heavy in his chest, like the air was too thick to breathe. Despite his usual calm, he felt a strange tightness in his stomach, a feeling he'd never experienced before with such intensity.

He took a slow step back, his eyes still fixed on the scene in front of him. The blood on the floor smelled like metal, mixed with the cheap paint and powder the clown was wearing. He tried to breathe slowly, to regain his rhythm, but his stomach didn't respond.

In a moment, he felt a prickle in his throat, then a sudden urge to bend forward. He put his hand on the wall for balance, before vomiting beside the body, his breaths ragged but silent. He stayed like that for a moment, but couldn't stop his body from reacting to what had happened.

After he was done, he stood up straight, took a deep breath, and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. He looked at the floor, then at the body again. This was the first step on a path he never thought he would take. Not because he enjoyed it,

He knew it was necessary. The world doesn't give you power, you gotta take it for yourself, and you have to change if you wanna survive. He wasn't looking for fun, he was looking for growth.

Slowly, he stood up, brushing his hands like he was getting rid of any leftover mental weight. He stared at the body one last time before heading toward the sink, washing his hands with cold water, watching the blood disappear with each drop. Something inside him started to shift— it wasn't fear, but something deeper, something still forming within him.

He glanced at the mirror, catching his reflection for a moment. His pale blue eyes."

, once calm, now had this strange glow to them, a mix of shock and deep exhaustion. His skin was pale, with little lines on his forehead like they carried the weight of the last moment. His mouth was tight, like he was teetering on the edge of losing his mind. The guilt showed in small clusters around his mouth and eyes, with new wrinkles forming from mental and physical strain. His hair was messier than usual, and his hand reached for the edge of the sink, spreading his fingers across it as he splashed cold water on his face, leaning against the sink. Then he turned his head away And combs his hair back. . This wasn't the time to think about it.

He hit the switch, and the light came on, barely lighting up the room. You could just make out the scattered furniture, broken glass, and workout gear all over the place.

His eyes moved over the blood that stained the floor.

He just had to keep going.

The room he was in was in his house, a room his dad had insisted on building for him years ago so he could work out. The room was spacious, and it was hard to believe it was in the same house. Now, it felt more like a crime scene.

Ethan started thinking about how to get rid of the body. He knew the best way was to get rid of it in a way that wouldn't raise any suspicions. The ocean seemed like the perfect option.

He stood in front of the body, staring at it for a long moment, trying to keep his cool. The clown's blood was splattered all over the floor and walls, covering the table in the corners of the room. The heavy, metallic scent of blood filled the air, sticking to every corner of the room.

Ethan (in a calm voice, looking at the body): "Well... I guess it's time to say goodbye."

He moved toward the body, starting to cover it up. The body was still cold, the blood dried on some parts. He took off the white gloves with practiced hands, then grabbed a big black bag from the corner, opening it wide. He carefully started covering the body, tucking the edges into the bag, making sure everything was hidden.

Each movement was slow. His hand trembled slightly from the tension, but he didn't let fear show. Once it was done, he sealed the bag tight, letting the edges hang down, covering the body completely. He felt something strange in his chest, but he didn't let it affect him.

Next, he moved to the bloodstained walls. He grabbed a cloth, wetting it with cold water from the sink. He started wiping the walls calmly, gently removing the scattered spots. Each move was deliberate, as if the cloth was not just cleaning blood, but erasing the memory of what had just happened.

For Ethan, every little detail was part of a battle. Each drop of blood was a fight, every spot wiped away was a step toward purifying the place. His hand moved without hesitation, pulling the dirt from the walls and washing it away slowly. His steps were quiet, deliberate, like he was creating a new work of art.

As he wiped the floor, a drop of cold water fell, quickly wiped away with a swift motion.

The clown's blood was still sticking to the floor in scattered spots, but Ethan kept repeating his movements without stopping.

He grabbed a bucket of water and poured it onto the floor to soak the heavy stains, starting to remove the rest of the marks. He watched carefully as each trace of blood disappeared with the water, like his senses were becoming deep and silent. The red-stained water flowed slowly across the surface, washing away the mess left behind.

Ethan (thinking to himself as he worked): "Nothing can stay here... it all has to go."

He grabbed another cloth, wetting it, then began wiping down smaller surfaces like tables and scattered furniture. His hand moved faster now, and as he finished each part, it seemed like a piece of him was returning to its place. The cleanliness, the order, everything was going back to how it was before, like nothing ever happened.

He took a deep breath as he surveyed the room one last time. The place was almost clean, no trace of blood or chaos left to hint at what had gone down. The light in the room was dim, and the furniture covered with the white cloth he used to clean the surfaces began to look like nothing had ever happened. There was just the heavy feeling on his chest, but he tried to push it away.

He took the last cloth and wiped away the small spots still left on the edges, his eyes focused on every move, making sure nothing would remind him of the incident. He put the cloth aside, taking a step back, and watched the place, checking every corner.

When the place was free of any traces, he grabbed the black bag that covered the body. The body was cold now. He lifted the bag with one hand, and it was heavier than he expected, but Ethan didn't hesitate. His hand shook a little from the pressure, but he kept his cool. He started moving toward the door.

He opened the door and walked out of the workout room, carrying the body. He walked through the living room and kitchen.

He moved quickly toward the front door, passing by the small table with a fancy vase. His hand accidentally brushed against it, making it wobble for a second, before it broke on the floor.

"Oh, no... I thought I was clear of this stuff."

"It's fine, I didn't like it anyway."

He kept walking and made his way outside, heading to the backyard before getting to the car. He put the body in the trunk and took off.

Los Angeles of Port( 3:00 AM)

He reached the modest dock where the small boat was waiting. The boat was in the shadows, barely visible except for the faint light from distant lamps. No one was here, no one watching, no cameras. Fast and quiet, he tied the black bag securely around the body before slowly pushing it into the boat. The boat was small enough to sneak away without drawing attention.

Ethan sat behind the wheel, gripping the oars, ready to go. He started the boat's engine at full speed, trying to get away without making a scene. The calm sea reflected the moon, with a few scattered points of starlight above it.

A few miles from shore, as he drifted away from the faint lights of Los Santos, he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sea, in a place where the shore or any horizon point couldn't be seen. The waves gently touched the boat as Ethan leaned against the wheel, watching the darkness around him.

He slowly opened the black bag, like every second was another step toward the end. The body felt heavy, but Ethan moved it easily after placing it on the edge of the boat. Even though he wanted it gone forever, there was still a weird feeling in his gut—a feeling that was a mix of tension and questioning. Did I do the right thing? He wanted to grow, but was murder the way to grow?

He looked around carefully before glancing at the sea. He checked again that no other boats were around. In that moment, he did what he came to do. He took a deep breath, then pushed the body with all his might, making sure it hit the water far from the boat and sank into the depths.

Ethan took a deep breath as he watched the body slowly disappear: Maybe I did the right thing.

The wind around him emptied, making the moment feel like an emotional void, as he watched the body disappear into the darkness, sinking into the cold sea. There was a moment of silence.

Ethan returned to the boat's engine and started heading back, away from the spot where he'd dumped the body.

As he neared the dock again, the moon had disappeared behind clouds, leaving the sky completely dark. He stopped the boat quickly, wiped any traces he might've left behind. As he brought the boat back into place, everything was in its spot now.