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"It's been a long time, since I had a visitor. Actually, I don't think I've ever had a visitor, besides my own thoughts. Pardon the mistake, I do tend to ramble."
Hofnarr was met with a silent stare.
"Ah, but that's right! You're not much of a talker. So... I guess it works out."
Hank was met with a sheepish grin.
The man before him, short and chubby and aging, he was cute, of all things. Cute in the way a funny uncle at the family gathering would be. Not that Hank would know that, no, he'd never experienced that sort of thing. Still, that general aura, that was what radiated off the older gentleman.
Hank remained stoic, silent. To some degree, confused. This place was, as far as he could tell, the Other Place. With that damn clown influencing it, somehow- it had all been a blur. He was never in this to understand shit, he was in this to kill what needed killing and stop what needed stopping.
This other man though- Hofnarr? He seemed good at reading people.
"You're probably wondering what a Joe Schmoe like me is doing down here? I'm not exactly your typical grunt." He remarked.
"You're a nerd." was Hank's reply. It earned a bark of laughter from Hofnarr, like a hyena, and that was when Hank recognized him.
Tricky.
The other man's neck was in Hank's grasp in moments, grip ripping the breath from the other man.
"Wait! Wai-" He coughed and hacked between words. "Please! I may- be your only ch- aance to ssstop me! Pl- ease!"
Hank was never one to listen to cries for mercy, but the words did sink in after a moment. This man confused him just enough to earn a loosened grip. A sign to "explain what's going on", said by Hank through the silent gesture.
Gulping in air, Hofnarr forced the words out, "I'm not him! Not- not really..! Well... in a sense, I am, but... I never wanted to be him."
A beat of silence.
"Sorry. Rambling. I suppose you don't particularly c-care for the details."
Hank nodded. He didn't.
"I wasn't always like this, you know... I suppose the simplest way to explain this is... well, my- Tricky's mind has melded with yours, and this place, in a way that has allowed me some semblance of, ah- freedom. I am... all that's left of who I used to be. Before the Improbability Drive. I am Tricky, but I am not the Tricky you know."
Hank's head hurt. He got some of this, a little, maybe just enough to make it make sense? This man used to be Tricky- no. Tricky used to be this man. Then he became Tricky. But this man is still in Tricky's head, just... weak. Powerless.
Hank, after a long loooong moment, nodded in understanding.
"Ah, you do understand! Excellent. Now, I know you're showing a lot of restraint by not killing me, so allow me to thank you- I think I may be what you need to stop m- Tricky once and for all."
Hofnarr's gaze shifted to the landscape around them. Violent reds and caverns carved out against it by cold, cold greys, formations of stone and building crumbling into an unending sky. He flinched at the sight.
"I'm... I'm what tells myself right from wrong. I'm what's missing in the driver's seat, as it were..." He mused. "Right now, all I- he- we crave is blood. Violence, carnage! It's rather, ah, thrilling, but... also terrible. I could stop it... I've just never been strong enough to pull him back, to... force him down. Force these instincts back to the part of my mind where they belong proper."
Hank felt that gaze turn to him. "But you- you! You're Hank J. Wimbleton! You're the thorn in Tricky's side! You're..."
"You're my only chance."
There was a desperate edge to the words, something raw and broken. Hank was not a smart man, but he was not ignorant to the feelings of others. If anything, he felt too deeply. It still took a lot to move him, but... this was something that needed to be done, wasn't it? Fixing a problem.
It was odd, to save a person rather than stomp their head in. It didn't feel natural.
"Stay close." was all Hank said in reply.
The other man nodded, and as he was told, he stayed close to Hank.
The moment of calm and clarity was broken moments later, by the imminent threat of clown and his rage. Hofnarr's own rage, unstoppable.
Hank protected the other man as they sought their target- whatever represented the real Tricky.
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Hofnarr, as a scientist, had urges he could rarely control. Observation, documentation, speculation. Now was no different. Seeing Hank fight like an animal set loose, his mind set solely on the imminent destruction of all threats, Hofnarr took notes.
He had seen Hank plenty through the eyes of his own body, of course, but it was always like staring through a window- detached, with smudged glass, unable to hear or understand the full context he was blocked from. Here, though? Their minds were reaching each other. Like hands clasped together, Hank's own internalizations were visible to Hofnarr, just as he was visible to Hank. In this space, vague and improbable as it was, it seemed as if only Hofnarr was noticing these signs. Or Hank was too focused, too single-minded, to realize parts of his mind were bare to Tricky. To Hofnarr.
Voices whispered in Hofnarr's ears, speaking things senseless to him, but offering puzzle pieces he could start to place. Parents, he gathered- Mother and Father Wimbleton. He heard gunfire, he heard blood, somehow. He heard a child killing a man twice his size in self defense. He heard, broken off from themselves, pieces of memories.
In a beautiful splash of bright red, Hank was bathed in the glow of death, and Hofnarr knew. Neither of them had asked to become this way.
Funny, how the world is the only way to live a life, and yet the world twists the lives of everyone in it. Pretentious? Perhaps. But you couldn't blame Hofnarr, not really. Anyone stuck with only their own thoughts was bound to get pretentious eventually.
"Wimbleton?" he called to the other man without thinking.
And, standing above the dissolving bodies he'd laid out, Hank's unreadable gaze locked with Hofnarr's.
He didn't know what he was thinking, not really. For all his brains, Hofnarr had always had a bleeding heart as well, and it had only bled more and more in his isolation. He craved something- company? Understanding?
"What will you do, when this all ends?"
It took a moment for the question to sink into Hank's skin, to seep into his comprehension. When it did, he appeared to understand the question, shockingly enough. But he didn't appear happy to hear it.
"Why." He spat out.
"Because I think I know the answer already."
Hofnarr swallowed the thick lump in his throat. Why was he doing this? Why?
"I... I'm afraid, Wimbleton. If I truly- if we become myself again... when the bloodshed all stops, for good, what will be left? How will I live with the weight of it all, with no more fights left to distract us?"
Hank took a step forward.
"And you- you never asked for this. I know you didn't, just like me, we didn't ask to become this!" It was frantic, hysterical, as it left his lips. "You love this! In the moment! But you, and I- what will we be when we're done here!?"
Another step.
"Do we even know how to be people?"
Another.
"You were robbed of a life! And you know it! Just like-"
Hank stopped right before the other man, emotionless.
"Me."
Hofnarr couldn't help it- he didn't just grin, he laughed. He cackled, a terrifying sound, repetitive, over and over, in mania. He sounded like a wounded creature. Inhuman. Weeping.
"Oh, Hank... what are we going to do..?"
The larger man took a deep, rumbling breath.
"You don't know me." Hank grumbled, and his throat sounded raw and full.
"You're right. I don't... but I know myself. Do you know yourself, Hank?"
"Shut. Up."
It was hurting Hank's head and he was tired of it. He didn't want to think about this. Hofnarr *overcomplicated* it, it was all simple. Simple.
"I do what comes natural. Nothing else."
A pause, then an apologetic chuckle.
"Of course... like I said, I... ramble. Forgive my... rudeness."
No more words were said. Hank simply turned, and kept moving. He didn't check to see if Hofnarr followed. But Hofnarr did.
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As Hank forced Tricky's skull to crack, the sound echoed in his bones. The beast beneath him writhed, kicked and shrieked. Hank's breath trembled. He slammed his head, again and again, again, again, till it stopped.
Hofnarr stared into the dying eyes of his own soul, and saw regret staring back.
"That... ought to do it." He muttered, suddenly feeling ill. His eyes looked anywhere but Tricky.
"I can already feel the influence waning... when I'm, ah, able- I'll... I'll separate us. Then all that will remain is... waking up outside again, I suppose."
Hank saw Hofnarr look to the sky, endless and empty. His throat burned.
"As we begin, offer a tired old man some company, would you Hank?"
Hofnarr sat down, as if to stargaze. His throat continued to burn. He felt a presence join him. The rage from earlier seemed to have calmed, into something almost... comforting. Hank's own eyes watched the sky, and it felt like nothing special. Just more red. Always.
"Do what comes natural." he said.
Hofnarr blinked. "Pardon?"
"Do. What comes. Natural. That's human."
The words hung in the air, then hit Hofnarr. It's human. Of course. It's human.
"Yes. Alright. That... makes sense. I will."
Hank gave a nod in return. Nothing else. But it said plenty.
Hofnarr closed his eyes. He felt, suddenly, fresh air hit his lungs as he breathed.
Hofnarr woke up.