[Song attached: "Nightcore (Our Waking Hour) - Curtain Call"
[We command- ah- recommend that you listen to it whilst reading. XD]
[Disclaimer: I don't own the song mentioned above, or the song mentioned in this chapter.]

Laughing Jack edged away from the wooden door and bent back, stretching his arms behind his head with a soft yawn.

I'm outta here!

He had no way of knowing that Smiley was quite literally beneath his feet, being chained inside a laboratory by Kagekao.

(If you're a fast reader like me, you might've just done a double take because you thought the not-so-good doctor was being tied to a lavatory system. Which thankfully, he was not.)

All the minions had gone on their lunch break and the whole lair was totally deserted, because apparently the minions really liked their cheap cafeteria pizza.

The lollipop was mysteriously absent from the scene. One popular theory was that it had been eaten whole, but that was just mere speculation on Phantom's side.

Since the hideout was, as previously stated, totally deserted – L.J wasn't too careful about creeping around on his way out.

Cheerfully humming a tune akin to pop goes the weasel under his breath he casually walked through several forcefielded doors and twirled past a pit of snakes.

The final hall was not a pretty sight.

At one point, the floors had been gleaming metal but due to minion incompetency when it came to cleaning detergents, it was now rickety and rusty.

Walls? Still decorated in weird tinsel. And of course, the giant bauble, which will not be mentioned again.

His footsteps groaned and creaked, irritating a family of demonic mice that lived underneath it. But of course, he didn't particularly care.

The door was literally two feet away, wide open and revealing a swirling snow storm behind it; flurries of the stuff thrown around like candy.

Weather patterns were so unpredictable in hell.

L.J stood in front of the doorway and paused to itch the back of his leg with the other foot.

These stripy stockings really chafe...

A blur shot in front of him from the sidelines, pulling the grand front doors shut with a bang. At the last second, Smirky twisted around and faced L.J with concern. "Oh no, don't go that way!"

The monochrome clown's expression darkened at the sight of him. "And why not?"

"Lord Zalgo has a whole army of liquorice monsters waiting out there. It's a trap." His voice dropped to lower tone, "Slenderman sent me here, to fetch you!"

Laughing Jack was not amused. "And why's that?"

"Smiley's been kidnapped and all creepypastas are being called back to the mansion because of it."

The illusion creepypasta paused to take a deep breath, tilting his chin down while keeping full eye-contact with him. "I know a different way out - follow me."

"That isn't gonna happen kiddo." L.J stated flatly, crossing his arms.

"Come out and face me for real."

Like a switch flipping, the illusion's demeanour switched to absolute fury, choking out a growl before flickering out of existence.

L.J nonchalantly turned around, looking bored as he came face-to-face with a mirror-like onyx blade; belonging to a new scythe.

"So what was that about Smiley going poof?"

"It's the truth," Smirky nodded, looking hurt at the skepticism in his voice, "-I can't say that I'm worried for his safety, but it's a chilling thought nevertheless."

The monochrome clown pushed the aforementioned scythe's blade away from his face.

An angelic halo popped into existence, hovering above Smirky's head. He smiled innocently, licking blood off the back of his teeth.

"Shall we go?"

"Yeah.."

At some point in time during their walking, the halo disappeared. It wasn't exactly clear when this happened, but let's not dwell on such trivial matters.

L.J halted before they reached the end of the hall (it was a long hall, okay?), and eyed him with suspicion.

"You look different."

The illusionst stopped as well, giving a sideways glance before looking straight ahead again.

"Oh?"

L.I tapped his chin thoughtfully. "There's a bad 'pasta on the loose. I won't say anything about watching out for him, because that bad 'pasta is probably you."

"Is that so?" A hand curled over the scythe's sleek guard.

"Let's see what Slenderp has to say about this. And if he doesn't recall sending you out, we'll all have a 'fun' chat about Smiley's disappearance..." L.J flexed his claws meaningfully.

Smirky mockingly bowed down.

"I'm guilty as charged, your honour~"

Then his head snapped up; ruby eyes ringed with unnatural black.

L.J lunged forward to grab him by the front.

"You're coming with me!"

With a flick of his wrist, Smirky used the scythe to block him.

L.J's claws raked over it; white cuts on a black canvas.

The illusionist span around, movements fluid and agile.

He brought the scratched blade flat-side-down, but his target teleported himself away before the hit could land.

What's with this sudden speed? L.J wondered.

Smirky intercepted him, flying to the attack in an instant (new scythe a neverending arc of distorted reflection).

The clown avoided each blow by the skin of his teeth, dodging left and right as the rush kept coming, striking and striking in rapid swing.

The illusionist sprang off his feet, spun head-over-heels and tore the scythe downwards at breakneck speed.

No time to dodge that one.

As a Pokèmon narrator would say, critical hit.

It tore through feathers, fabric, flesh alike, striking his shoulder through to the bone.

Inky blood washed over floor, Smirky and the halo (we still don't know how that last one reappeared; it was floating around somewhere nearby).

L.J screeched as high as his vocal chords could go, yanking his shoulder free through teleportation before his whole arm was cut off.

His mind was too distracted to take him anywhere past a few feet back.

Smirky advanced on him with a gleam in his eye.

The monochrome clown clamped a hand over the gash, then willed to try again and disappeared in a hazy mist of purple.

This time, his teleportation worked. It took him five feet inside the lair, into its second hall.

Zalgo had once gone through some kind of craze; decorated this one with dark orange tiles and lots of pillars, painting the ceiling brown and leaving everything else bare.

It hadn't been changed since.

L.J staggered behind one of the tall concrete pillars and sank against it, concealing himself from sight before thinking to assess the damage.

He lifted his hand.

Thick sticky streams of black stuck and stretched from his wound like the world's most macabre web.

His arm was unresponsive.

How long did it take to heal something like that?

"I underestimated him badly..." L.J mumbled under his breath, shaking his hand free of the threads and reaching into his pocket for his phone.

By some miracle, it let him dial the creepypasta hotline, despite getting slathered with blood in the process.

This line is currently engaged. Please hold for a moment. Came an automated version of BEN's voice, followed by some causal 'hold tunes.'

Love me like you do!
Touch me like you do, touch, touch, touch me like you do!
Aaah!
What are you waiting foooor?~

L.J pulled a face and held the phone away from his ear, despairingly wondering why they'd let BEN be in charge of their music choices.

The hallway's massive, White Rabbit-sized (if you get this reference, I love you :3) doors creaked open by a crack.

Obnoxiously, the song kept on going at maximum volume.

And since the aforementioned hall was deathly quiet, it gently caressed the walls with its echo.

Laughing Jack quickly shut it off, lest he actually have to battle to the rhythm of such... Inappropriate tunes.

"Boo!"

Smirky sprang from the pillar's top, throwing his scythe over his shoulder – then plunging it down.

L.J leapt out of the way, barely avoiding the curve of the blade (it scraped over his hair.), and teleported back on his feet.

His injured arm hung useless and limp at his side, sleeve glistening.

His other one demonstrated it was perfectly capable of movement when he dove under Smirky's next swipe and thrust it claw-first into his chest.

The scythe was real, but its holder wasn't.

The illusion gave a ragged gasp, then folded like paper over his arm, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

L.J stepped back to lean on the pillar. He grinned, flashing his sharp teeth menacingly.

"Hah... Fancy footwork and speed won't be enough to stop me, kiddo!"

He swooped down to pick up the scythe, and snapped it in half over his knee. The metal curled and tore apart, rendering the weapon useless for long-distance attacks.

From the shadow of an opposite pillar, Smirky growled under his breath.

L.J, hearing the sound, decided to taunt him further, because at this point why the hell not.

"Smiley fights better than you, and he doesn't even use weapons!~" This was followed by the sound of blowing an immature raspberry.

Whoosh.

The illusionist left his hiding place.

"DON'T EVER COMPARE ME TO MY BROTHER!"

He split into five, each branching out in their own separate ways, moving back into the darkness to spring a surprise on him.

Lovely.

That had definitely struck a nerve.

And now there was no way of telling which was the real one.

L.J braced himself, looking rapidly from left to right, then up and down for good measure. Behind the pillar too.

This is crazy!

The first attack came out of nowhere, a lash of kicking aimed straight at his face.

The monochrome clown seized him by the ankle and span, slamming him headfirst into the floor; it was just an illusion.

A hand clamped down around his neck, squeezing hard.

L.J threw that one off his back with some fast-thought out shaking.

It flew and crashed into a second one, 'killing' both instantly. Poof, gone.

He fought the next one head-on – it was remarkably feisty and put up quite a fight with him.

Kicks and punches were exchanged in fleeting seconds, 'till L.J found a window of opportunity to headbutt the illusion into nonexistence.

Dazed and disoriented, the monochrome clown stumbled for a bit, nursing his head. Remember kids: headbutting hurts.

Glowing poisoned candies were spinning 'round and 'round, along with little chirping BEN birds.

Owie, that one was strongest...
How many have I fought? Can't remember... Is there two left? Or is that it?

He shook off the dizziness, collecting his thoughts.

Smirky strolled out from somewhere irrelevant, looking remarkably calm for someone who'd just been through a turmoil of battle.

His eyes strayed to the snapped scythe (it was lying a few feet away), to L.J, and behind L.J's shoulder, where his line of sight stayed.

A question mark hovered over the confused clown's head. What now?

Smirky, still looking squarely over his shoulder, laughed.

That was it.

A small, scoffy laugh.

Feeling an unexpected sense of déjà vu, L.J followed his gaze and whipped around – ready to defend himself from a surprise attack.

None came.

There was nothing there.

His eyes widened in horror as he realized what he'd done; turned his back on the real Smirky - who'd led him on without saying a word.

FWOOOSH!

Three seconds to pick up the scythe's bladed half.

Two seconds to jump.

And one second to rip the monochrome clown wide open.

An immense amount of blood spewed out; a jet black flower taking bloom in the air before returning to liquid form and crashing over the tiles.

L.J fell forward, landed splayed out in a pool of his own blood, limp as a ragdoll.

A lot of insides spilled outside, but we can't go into any further gory details for the sake of the rating. I'm sure you can imagine what I'm talking about though.

Smirky dropped the bent blade, painted all the way to his face with 'ink.'

He smiled, pearly teeth streaked with rivulets of red, voice dry.

"... I tOLd yOu tO wAtCh yOuR bAcK, DiDn't I?"

_____________________
A/N: No comment.

Okay, that was a lie. Please don't give up on this story: L.J 'might' not be as dead as you think!

Anydoodles. Thank you for letting me reach 2K views; I still can't believe it. :3
I really hope you'll keep reading, and possibly give a few stars to the cause...?

A penny for your thoughts? One real-life string of sticky notes, six hours and one discarded draft later, I'm still unsure if I'm good at writing fight scenes.

I'm all outta words for what else to say so... Um...

Toodles?
Final Word Count: 2097