Meanwhile, at the FBI office…
The silence was so thick it could be cut.
Reyes and Carter stood in front of a wall covered in photographs.
Vivian. Brittany. Madeleine. Ana.
Loren and Stiven, marked as members of the organization.
—We haven't found anything concrete, Carter said, rubbing his face. Loren's been moving his men like crazy… searching for someone. But we don't know who.
The door burst open.
An agent rushed in, out of breath.
—Sorry… we received an anonymous call. They claim Stiven, Mike, and several other high-ranking members have been kidnapped.
Carter frowned.
—Since when?
—We don't know. When we tried to get more information… they hung up.
Reyes crossed her arms, tense.
Another agent rushed in almost immediately.
—New report! Kidnapping at the private airport. The main victim is Ricardo.
The air in the office froze.
—Ricardo? Carter repeated, incredulous.
—Surviving witnesses say it was… a clown.
Absolute silence.
Reyes looked at Carter.
No words were needed.
—We're heading to the scene. Now.
---
In the silent night…
A red balloon floated with unnatural slowness.
It reached Brittany's window.
Soft tap.
Brittany woke with a jolt.
Her eyes opened, locking onto the balloon pressed against the glass.
She stood up, her heart pounding, and opened the window.
The balloon drifted inside.
It slowly deflated in front of her.
Then it disintegrated into glowing red particles that formed words in the air:
"Get ready.
The fireworks are prepared."
The particles faded.
Brittany stood there, trembling in the dark.
---
In another house…
Another red balloon struck Vivian's window.
She woke instantly.
The balloon disintegrated before entering.
Red particles formed a message in front of her:
"I already told Brittany.
The fireworks are about to begin.
You're invited.
Bring Ana and Madeleine."
Vivian felt her stomach tighten.
The message vanished.
But the fear remained.
---
Meanwhile, in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Trenton…
The air smelled of rust, dampness, and fear.
I stood at the center.
In front of me, tied to metal chairs, were Ricardo, Stiven, Mike, and the remaining leaders.
Some trembled.
Others barely breathed.
I smiled beneath the mask.
—Trenton is about to witness a first-class show.
I tilted my head.
—And you, Loren… you'll be the final act.
I took out my phone and dialed.
Loren answered on the first ring, his voice unsteady.
—What do you want now?
—Loren, my friend… I see you've already hidden yourself. That's good. Too bad it won't help you.
—You bastard… Loren growled. You think you can kill me?
A low chuckle.
—I'm going to let you speak to someone.
A second later, a weak, broken voice came through:
—…Loren.
Loren's eyes widened.
—Ricardo…?
—He fell quickly, didn't he? I said, amused. Listen carefully. You're the last one. The finale of this show. Get ready for the fireworks I promised you.
A pause.
—Goodbye, Loren.
I hung up.
---
Back in the warehouse.
I snapped my fingers.
Shadows shifted.
Illusions of clowns emerged around the prisoners, their smiles stretched too wide.
But then—
They stopped.
Their heads turned toward me.
Something was wrong.
I took a step back.
On the ground, near the half-open door, words appeared—written in a dark, unnatural substance:
"Ryan.
End the show.
It's bad to drag this out."
Total silence.
I looked toward the darkness beyond the door.
A very faint laugh echoed from the night.
—…so you're watching, I whispered.
I smiled.
This time… slower. Colder.
—Either way… this has gone on long enough.
I raised my hand.
My eyes turned completely black, with a bright red iris glowing within.
—It's time… to give this a proper ending.