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MISSION THREE — ASSASSINATE: JEVIL

THE TEAM: Big D Randy, Diolson , Momo, Fellow-D9, Gebrix.
OBJECTIVE: Track down Jevil — a chaotic jester — and kill him. No subtleties. No leaving him alive.

ELEVATOR RIDE — BRIEF

The five stand cramped in a maintenance lift. Diolson’s phone-head emits soft beeps as he runs final checks. Big D Randy cracks his knuckles the size of cinderblocks. Momo clasps her wand. Fellow-D9’s mask is set. Gebrix blinks, earrings humming faintly.

Diolson (calm, clipped):
“L0cat10n: sector G, funhouse grid. Pr3d1cted p4tterns: errat1c. M0d3: cha0tic jester. METHOD: direct. C0mms: encrypted.”

Big D Randy (grinning):
“Perfect. I like games where the other guy dies first. Let him laugh. I break laughs.”

Momo (soft):
“Be careful. He plays with fear. He’ll try to turn us against ourselves.”

Fellow-D9 (flat):
“Anchor ready. If he summons followers, I can reroute them for a few seconds. Keep eyes on your backs.”

Gebrix (shrugs):
“I’ll blink around. Pull people out of trouble if it gets messy. Try not to make me teleport into soup.”

The elevator pings. The door opens into a tilted corridor painted in carnival stripes. A faint jingle echoes like a promise of madness.

CORRIDOR — HUNTING

A windup music box plays. Shadows bounce like puppets.

Voice (off, high and buzzing):
“HEE-HEE! WELCOME, WELCOME! STEP RIGHT UP! STEP RIGHT UP! HEY HEY HEY! THE GAME—THE GAME—THE GAMES! HAHAHA—”

Jevil tumbles into view on a spring-neck, bells jingling. His grin is too wide. Five spades hover, orbiting him like knives with a hunger for patterns.

Jevil (sing-song):
“LET’S PLAY A LITTLE GAME! A HIDE, A SEEK, A KILL! WHO’LL GET LOST? WHO’LL GET— cha-cha —SLICED? HAHA!”

Big D Randy (low, dangerous):
“You’re not funny. Run, or I’ll make you stop laughing.”

Jevil (bobbing like a puppet):
“RUN? NOOO—STAY! STAY! STAY FOR THE SHOW! I’LL MAKE A HEART—NO, FOUR! FOUR LOVELY HEARTS! FOLLOW! FOLLOW! FOLLOW! HAHAHAHA!”

Four glowing hearts erupt from his chest and orbit — Heart Attack. They track movement with slow, mocking chirps.

Momo (softly, chanting):
“Bind away the orbit. Three sigils—now.”

She draws quick runes in the air with her wand. Her symbols flare; one heart sputters and slows, wobbling. Jevil laughs, delighted.

Jevil:
“O-ho! Magic tricks! MORE! MORE! CUTER! CUTER! HAHAHA—”

Fellow-D9 (grumble, voice like gravel):
“Anchor—now.”
(He slams his device down. A radial field pulses. Minor enemies and homing magics hesitate, claws mid-air.)
“Loop them. Confuse their target. Make them spin like toys.”

Two hearts get hung; they whirl uselessly around nothing for a moment. Jevil’s smile falters — just a breath.

Diolson (analyzing):
“Sh39l1ng pr0t3ct1ons: ephemeral. ATTACK PATTERNS: spades at short arc, knife morph at mid. C0unter: disrupt homing link, physically close.”

Gebrix (quiet):
“I’ll blink him. Pull him out of patterning. One teleport; don’t overuse.”

Big D Randy:
“Punching is my favorite kind of speech. Let me talk.”

ENGAGEMENT — PHASE ONE

Jevil throws the five spades—swift, razor geometries. Fellow-D9’s Anchor interrupts their homing just enough; the spades glance past, cutting banners and paint instead of flesh. Big D slams into the jester with a body like an impact hammer. Jevil skitters back on his spring neck, shrieking with delight.

Jevil (cackling):
“OOPS! A GIANT! HEY BIG GUY—WANT A BALLOON? WANT A PRIZE? I SEE YOUR SOUL IS CRACKED—HEHE!”

He morphs—his limbs become the Devil’s Knife, a single jagged blade elongates and lunges. His spring neck elongates, throwing his head like a corkscrew.

Momo (casting):
“Binding line—now!”
(A silver line springs from her wand, slashing across his blade to slow its forward momentum.)

Gebrix (teleport-blink):
“Now!”
(He teleports behind Jevil in a shimmer, placing a palm to the jester’s shoulder for a psychic jolt. Jevil twitches — the spring neck snaps outward but Gebrix drags him, teleporting them both a dozen feet backward into a dead zone.)

Jevil (stunned, laughing breathy):
“OH—OOH! TRICKY! TRICKS! YOU PULLED ME OUT! BUT PUPPETS ALWAYS COME BACK—HA!”

Big D winds and throws a crushing right. Jevil extends into a spiral of knives to parry — but Big D’s momentum smashes the spiral, scattering blade fragments like confetti. He grabs Jevil’s coat and slams him into a pillar; bells jingle mournfully.

Fellow-D9 (quick):
“Anchor toggle—now. Make the hearts re-seek him. Turn his toys against him.”
(He flips a switch; the confused hearts, freed from their orbit pattern, re-home onto Jevil himself, prickling the jester with his own magic.)

Jevil (screeching, angry for the first time):
“HEY! THAT HURTS! DON’T HURT THE TOYS—NOT FAIR—NOT FAIR—WHO MADE THE RULES—”

Diolson (cold, mechanical):
“Vuln3rability: s9re point at base of spring. We remove spring, you stop springing.”

PHASE TWO — CLOSE QUARTERS

They converge. Momo’s runes tear at his protective mirth. Fellow-D9 keeps the magical toys occupied. Gebrix teleports in and out, dragging him off balance. Big D’s hands are everywhere — grappling, bending, crushing. Diolson directs, using his phone-head’s recording playback to jam Jevil’s rhythm with a counter-melody, throwing his timing off.

Jevil (voice warping):
“STOP THE MUSIC! FLICK THE—WHOOPSIE—WHOOPS—THE JIGGLE—HAHAHA—DON’T—OH NO—NOT MY NECK—”

Big D catches the spring at its base. The metal shrieks. He wrenches—arms like winches—tearing the spring free. Jevil reels, losing the spring’s recoil. For the first time his head dips low and the bells go quiet.

Jevil (hissing, suddenly small):
“No! I’M FREE! I’M F—FREEER— WHO GAVE YOU LICENSE—WHY—WHY—”
(He pushes, but without the spring he’s less a puppet and more a man with knives.)

Momo (chanting, force building):
“This is for the trapped. Go to sleep.”

Her runes bloom white; the Devil’s Knife shudders under their light. Fellow-D9’s Anchor pushes a behavioral knot—Jevil’s laughter stutters, then frays. Gebrix spins him in a teleport loop—short displacements that leave the jester dizzy.

Diolson (flat):
“Priority: terminate. Use physical, not net. He is whether or not he laughs.”

Big D Randy (soft, satisfied):
“Then shut him up.”

Big D winds a final, monstrous blow — not a puncture, a stoppage. He slams Jevil into the ground, steel and flesh meeting. Jevil’s hat bell chime cracks. For a flicker, the jester’s eyes are human, wet with something like regret or recognition. He laughs — a thin, brittle sound — then goes quiet as Big D drives through the motion that ends the game. The Devil’s Knife collapses, and the hearts wink out like extinguished candles.

Jevil (last, breathy):
“GAME — ENDS — HA—HAHA—FREE—NOTHING—FREE—”
(a last raspberry laughter that fades into a cough, then nothing)

Silence. The corridor smells of ozone and spilled confetti.

AFTERMATH — TREMORS & BREATHS

Momo kneels, hands shaking, murmuring a small circle of solace. Fellow-D9 taps his Anchor, ensuring Jevil’s magic is dead and his items inert. Gebrix checks for teleport residue. Diolson scans the body, voice clinical.

Diolson:
“CONF1RMAT10N: target neutral1z3d. NO NET SIGNATURES REMAIN. N0 anomalous respawns. Proceeding to extraction.”

Big D Randy (breathing heavy, grinning like a madgod):
“He screamed like somebody took his favorite toy. I liked the scream.”

Momo (soft, tired):
“He hurt a lot of people. I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

Fellow-D9 (looking at the jester’s still smile):
“Game over. Clean it up. Cheap trickmakers get cheap ends.”

Gebrix (quiet):
“Let’s go home.”

RETURN — THE BASE

They bring back proof: shards of the Devil’s Knife, a bell, a purple cuff. Diolson uploads a secure hash to the Tiger Cub—no net signature that could revive him. The base exhales; the mood is equal parts relief and dread. If Jevil was a puppet, who wound him? Who watches from the other base? The mole’s shadow hasn't faded.

Tiger Cub (small and furious, hugging a crate):
“GOOD. YOU DID IT. I DIDN’T LIKE HIS JINGLES. BRING ME HIS BELL. I’LL THROW IT AWAY.”

Big D Randy (offhand):
“Can I—keep a bell? For memories?”

Tiger Cub (hissing adorable):
“NO. YOU WILL NOT. NO BELL. NO BELL. THROW IT AWAY. THROW IT—”

peak