If the ages of Mrs. and Mr. Clarke corpses were any indication, the murder had only taken place a day prior. Detective Dawson's fellow police officers directed him towards the kitchen where the murder weapon, an extremely sharp meat cleaver, had been slammed into the kitchen table.
"Hey Dawson," Corporal Johnson called for him. "We searched the building top to bottom like you asked and we haven't found a single trace of the Clarke boy yet. The only area we haven't been able to check out yet is the attic, which has been blocked off from the inside."
"Then it's probably a safe bet that he's up there hiding. How long until you can break down the door?"
"Ten to twenty minutes."
"Fine." Dawson sighed. "Just make sure you don't scare the kid. He's been through enough already..."
"Hello Doctor Paxton." The man in the handcuffs greeted his interrogator. "How's the wife and family."
"They're um... They're fine. But that's not what I'm here to discuss today, Jack."
"Of course it isn't. We're here to talk about how good ole Jack of All managed to break into this facility of yours."
"We'll get to the bottom of that, don't you worry. However that isn't the reason for this interrogation. Tell me, why are you so interested in the entity known as Laughing Jack?"
"He was my roommate in college."
"Now, Jack," Paxton said as calmly as possible, "we all know you didn't break into the Project Evolution archives and almost destroyed all documents concerning the Laughing Jack entity, just to tell a few jokes! So for the sake of everyone's time, can you please tell me why."
"Fine, I'll humor you Doctor Paxton. But you'll have to remove these handcuffs first."
At long last the door fell apart and the boxes, old furniture, stored suitcases, and the various other objects that blocked it were moved. Dawson flipped the light switch multiple times but the lights came on. So instead he pulled out his flashlight and proceeded up the stairs. Judging by the cobwebs and the dust covering the wall, no one had entered this part of the house for ten years at the minimum.
As Dawson inspected the run down attic, he caught a glimpse of a rat scurrying away from the light and to a small nearby door, hidden by the mounds of junk surrounding it. Despite his better judgment, Dawson started to knock on the door.
"Jimmy? You in there?"
"So let me get this straight: you created that...thing as a quasi-servant designed to spread as much mayhem as possible?"
"Yes, Polly, that's exactly what I just said! Now, unless you want to be force feed crackers, you had better stop repeating whatever I say," Jack insulted him. "Anyway, Laughing Jack was only one of many entities I created as a means of insulting all those pesky organizations that want my head on a silver platter. While my 'children' distract them by spreading mayhem, I get to perform my deals in peace."
"But then one of your field agents somehow recovered the box I constructed as Laughing Jack's home. If I left you morons study it, there could be a possibility of you figuring out how it works and create your own little monster. If I wanted to continue my work uninterrupted, I had to destroy it and any information abo-"
"Bullshit!" Doctor Paxton exclaimed.
"Excuse me?" Jack asked.
"You heard me! Every single word of your explanation is bullshit!" Paxton screamed at the top of his lungs. "You're not nearly narcissistic or cliche enough to name all of your creations after yourself. And if this was true, why not send your creations to destroy the box for you? And furthermore, how would we have any information about it if we just managed to obtain it! There was literally no reason for you to do this"
As Paxton finally started to calm down, a large smile came upon Jack of All's face and he started to clap.
"Very good, Paxton, very good. But there's just one little problem with that idea of yours.... What if all those little holes in my story were planted there for the sole purpose of making you think my story was bullshit?"
Dawson put his ear up to the door and from within, the soft sound of moaning could be heard. Confused and worried about the fate of Jimmy, he kicked down the door and ran into the hidden room.
With a quick snap of his burnt, bright red hand, Jack's handcuffs came off and latched themselves onto Paxton's wrists. The security guards tried breaking down the door but it didn't move an inch, no matter how hard they banged on it. Paxton was trapped with Jack.
"You see, Paxton, while I applaud you for not trusting me, I also find you quite moronic. You see in our line of work we can never dismiss the possibility of a theory being real. That sort of shit can get you killed."
With another snap of the fingers, an old hand crafted Jack-in-the-box appeared in Jack's hands. As he turned the clank of the box, a very distorted and off-key version of Pop goes the weasel started to play. And as the song was about to end Jack sang along
"All around the mulberry bush,
The monkey chased the weasel;
The monkey thought 'twas all in fun,
Pop! goes the weasel..."
As the echo of the songs climax spread throughout the room, a pale skinned figure appeared out with no warning. At first glance it was an average clown with matted black hair that wore patchy, black and white outfit with striped sleeves and socks. It was only when it opened it's intense white eyes surrounded by dark black rings and it's mouth full of sharp jagged teeth, that it's true nature was obvious. With great speed, the creature lunged at Doctor Paxton and began strangling him to death.
When the good doctor finally stopped breathing, the clown went to the door kicked it open. Before the men on the other side had time to register what was happening, "the clown" extended it's arms and wrapped them around the men like anacondas. As they were slowly crushed to death, Laughing Jack and Jack of All laughed with one another.
"Hehe... Where the hell is my flask?" Jack wondered.
Dawson tried screaming, but nothing managed to come out. Incapable of doing anything, he vomited near the corpse of Jimmy Clarke whose empty eye sockets were stuffed with hard candy. And on the wall behind him was a message written in blood that said: From you best pal in the world, Laughing Jack