57-58

*Chapter 57: The Survivors *

SCREECH—

Accompanied by the sharp sound of brakes, Agent Zhou skillfully parked the car right at the bar's entrance.

"FBI. What's the situation at the bar?"

Stepping out of the car, he pulled out his badge and gestured to the surrounding officers providing support.

"A patrol officer has entered the bar."

A supporting officer, who had glanced at the badge in Agent Zhou’s hand, quickly responded.

"Didn't I already instruct you not to let anyone act without authorization?"

Hearing the officer's reply, Amanda frowned.

If her assessment was correct, the strange occurrences in the bar were likely tied to a supernatural event. The tragic memories of the Texas wolf-girl incident, where a small-town officer lost their life, were still vivid in her mind. Amanda was determined to prevent such a tragedy from happening again.

"I understand, ma'am. In fact, we relayed that over the radio to the patrol officer, but..."

The NYPD officer, tasked with maintaining order, wore a helpless expression as he explained.

The complexity of the police system often led to issues with command and control. In a global metropolis like New York City, the police department handled an array of responsibilities—patrolling, traffic control, law enforcement, and criminal investigations—all of which required a substantial workforce.

This naturally resulted in a highly intricate internal structure.

As a fellow member of law enforcement, Amanda quickly grasped the implications of the officer’s words.

"I need to know the current situation inside the bar."

Choosing not to dwell on the issue of the patrol officer, Agent Zhou swiftly redirected the conversation to the matter at hand.

"We followed protocol and sealed off the area around the bar as soon as possible. So far, no one has exited the premises."

"What about the emergency call?"

Agent Zhou hadn’t forgotten the distress call that had come from within the bar.

"We tried calling back, but there’s been no answer..."

The city officer shook his head, his tone indicating little hope for the person who made the call.

The NYPD had repeatedly attempted to reestablish contact with the bar, but to no avail.

For the officers, there was only one likely explanation.

The caller was already dead.

"..."

Hearing the officer's grim response, Amanda's breathing grew heavier. This was her second time encountering fatalities in a supernatural case.

Turning to face the bar, Amanda took a deep breath, her hand moving to the holstered pistol at her waist as she prepared to enter.

Noticing her actions, Agent Zhou’s gaze shifted slightly. He, too, silently drew his gun.

"Have the surrounding officers maintain their perimeter."

Lowering his head, Agent Zhou instructed the officer in charge of security before following Amanda toward the bar.

"You seem... tense."

Walking beside Amanda, Zhou easily noticed her heavy breathing and the tension on her face.

"Because this time, we’re likely dealing with a real supernatural event—not a fake one like before."

"Isn’t that exactly what BSI is for?"

Tightening his grip on his gun, Zhou responded quietly.

"Yeah."

Amanda murmured in agreement.

CLANG!  

Their brief exchange ended as they turned their focus back to the task ahead.

Amanda, gun in hand, cautiously approached the bar’s entrance. Behind them, the officers maintaining the perimeter held their breaths, their eyes following the duo’s every movement.

Reaching the closed door, Amanda took a deep breath and reached out to pull it open.

Suddenly, the door swung open.

Instinctively, Agent Zhou raised his gun.

"Wait!"

Amanda quickly stopped Zhou from firing as she focused on the figure emerging from the bar.

"It looks like a survivor."

Zhou hesitated, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he lowered his weapon, following Amanda’s gaze toward the figure. His normally stoic face showed a flicker of surprise.

The person stepping out of the bar was someone they had recently met and questioned—the bar owner.

---

Meanwhile, on the bustling streets of downtown New York:

"Hey, watch where you’re going, you idiot!"

A sharp honk pierced the air. Inside his car, a short-tempered white man cursed at the clown suddenly blocking his way.

Standing in the middle of the busy road, Arthur spread his arms wide, as though embracing the vibrant scene of cars and pedestrians. Some onlookers shot him curious or disdainful glances.

Without hesitation, Arthur pulled out the handgun he’d taken from the patrol officer and shot at the man.

BANG!  

The bullet shattered the car’s windshield, striking the man in the abdomen. Blood splattered, staining the steering wheel.

"AHHH!"

"Run! Get out of here!"

"Gunfire! Someone’s shooting!"

Panic erupted. Screams filled the air as the crowd scattered in fear, desperate to avoid becoming the clown's next victim.

CRASH! BOOM!  

As people fled in chaos, multiple cars collided, their crashes creating an earsplitting cacophony.

In mere seconds, the once-orderly traffic of downtown turned into utter chaos, with screams echoing everywhere.

Amid the turmoil, Arthur laughed gleefully beneath his clown mask.

He stepped onto the hood of a car, crunching shattered glass beneath his feet.

Staring at the injured driver who had cursed him earlier, he turned his gaze to the pandemonium around him and pulled the trigger again.

BANG! BANG!  

Two loud gunshots momentarily froze the chaos.

"Now... everyone’s paying attention to me."

Under the horrified stares of the crowd, Arthur danced atop the car, his shrill laughter filling the air.

"So, let’s party! Let’s bring laughter to this cold, indifferent world. Hahaha! Hahahaha!"

With Arthur’s proclamation, the sinister smile painted on his clown mask seemed to grow wider.

"Hahaha! Hahahaha!"

Around him, what began as fear and panic turned into uncontrollable laughter.

"Hahahaha..."

"Hahahahaha..."

The crowd forgot their fear and joined the clown in wild laughter, losing themselves in this grotesque carnival.

---

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 58: A Gruesome Incident*

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m very sorry to inform you that the upcoming celebration party is canceled.”

New York City. The hotel hosting the Modern Family cast and crew.

The ABC executive delivered this unexpected news to the group.

“Why?”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the Modern Family crew, and many wore expressions of dissatisfaction.

Normally, the celebration party after a show’s greenlighting lasts several days. Many crew members had planned to revel through the night, only to be abruptly informed on the second day that the festivities were canceled.

Noticing the growing discontent, Allen exchanged a glance with the show’s director.

While soothing the crew’s emotions, they turned to ABC for answers.

“For safety reasons,” the ABC representative explained, “this doesn’t just apply to Modern Family. All productions staying at the hotel have had their celebrations canceled.”

Understanding the inevitability of discontent, ABC’s management sought to explain.

Hearing they weren’t singled out eased tensions slightly among the crew. Curiosity soon took over as people speculated on what could have caused such drastic measures.

The ABC representative, aware of the rising curiosity, hesitated briefly before sharing the information.

“Apparently, there was a malicious shooting incident nearby. A clown fired indiscriminately at innocent pedestrians, causing chaos...”

“A clown?!”

“Oh my God!”

“God bless us.”

“I was planning to visit that area. What a relief…”

The Modern Family crew erupted in chatter after hearing the details.

“Another mass shooting?”

Ty Burrell, who plays Phil Dunphy, frowned at the mention of gun violence.

“These violent incidents are becoming more frequent. It’s unsettling,” he said.

“Probably due to economic hardships,” Ed O’Neill, who plays Jay Pritchett, chimed in. “When someone’s desperate, you can’t predict what they might do. But this too shall pass. I’ve lived through rougher times. Back in the day, things were worse—gangs, drugs, corruption—it was part of daily life. Gunfights broke out in the streets regularly. Compared to then, this is minor.”

“No matter the cause, shootings are dangerous,” Burrell countered. “The federal government needs to address gun control. Innocent lives are lost every year to gun violence.”

“Shootings are isolated incidents,” O’Neill argued. “You can’t strip people of their right to bear arms because of these events. Guns also provide protection in dangerous situations.”

“Protection?”

“This clown incident proves guns don’t ensure safety. Instead, they incite fear and chaos.”

“You’re being extreme, Ty.”

“I’m just voicing my opinion.”

Watching their debate, Sofía Vergara, who plays Gloria Pritchett, shrugged. Noticing Allen’s calm demeanor, she teased, “You don’t seem concerned about the shooting, Allen.”

“I trust the police will handle it,” Allen replied, expressing confidence in NYPD. Then, turning the question around, he asked, “Why do you seem so composed, Sofía?”

“I’m from Colombia,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

---

“Breaking news: A shooting occurred in New York City. A clown opened fire in public, causing widespread panic...”

“Latest reports suggest that many at the scene are convulsing with laughter. Experts suspect a neurotoxic hallucinogen—likely nitrous oxide—is involved. NYPD has dispatched specialists to the area and advises nearby residents to steer clear of the scene.”

The news looped on TV as grim footage of uncontrollable laughter filled the screen, chilling viewers. At the center of it all was a dancing clown, who became the focal point of media coverage.

“Everyone, back up! Stay back!”

NYPD officers formed a perimeter, trapping the clown in the middle. Wearing gas masks, they aimed their trembling firearms at the clown joyfully perched atop a car.

“Why don’t we just take the shot?” one officer asked, his voice strained under the weight of the surrounding laughter.

“There are too many civilians nearby,” the commanding officer explained, glancing at the helicopter camera filming the scene. “A stray bullet could hit an innocent person, which would destroy NYPD’s reputation.”

While American police don’t always have the best image in media, worsening public perception was a risk the officer wasn’t willing to take.

“I don’t want to make tomorrow’s headlines,” he muttered before turning his attention back to the clown.

“This kind of lunatic should be handled by the FBI. For now, we just need to maintain order and keep the chaos contained.”

---