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Chapter 160 – The Clown Suit Disaster
🕑 Added 2025-09-09 17:24:37 +0000 UTC
The joke landed with a thud. Classic set-up, classic punchline—yet nobody laughed. Not one mutant on Genosha so much as cracked a smile. They all just stared at the newcomer in horrified silence.
“Where the hell did this clown come from?” Erik muttered with open disgust.
Hank, visibly uncomfortable, glanced at him. “He’s… not one of yours?”
“Please. If someone like this showed up on my island, I’d have fed him to the fish by now.”
The self-styled clown strutted forward, hands spread theatrically as his painted face leered from side to side. “So this is the great mutant reservation, huh? Quite the tourist spot. Tell me—where’s the casino?
“I should warn you, I’m broke. But if I lose, I can always work off my debt by performing. Juggling, pratfalls, bad jokes—whatever keeps the meals coming. Just food and board, that’s all I need.”
It wasn’t subtle. He was mocking Genosha like it was some Native American reservation theme park. Erik’s jaw clenched—he wanted to shut the man up with a twist of metal—but the clown’s mouth just kept running.
“Beautiful island though. Very organic. You folks don’t eat much processed food out here, do you? Good! That stuff will kill you. Or mutate you. Or both.
“But hey, it’s not all bad. Tree-huggers would love it here. Everything grown by hand, no cars, no electricity. If the crops fail? Tough luck. Starve like it’s the good old days. Talk about living green!”
He leaned in conspiratorially, red eyebrows twitching with his forehead paint. “Although, let’s be honest—polyester isn’t exactly eco-friendly. And I see a lot of polyester. Unless, of course, you’ve got a nice little green petrochemical plant hiding somewhere. Otherwise, you’re about as authentic as that European climate celebrity—you know the one. The girl who gives speeches about saving the planet but still takes planes everywhere.”
The mutants just stared.
“Look, what I’m saying is—why not go all the way? Genosha’s a tropical island. Humid. Hot. You really don’t need all those clothes. Go native! One leaf per person. Doesn’t matter if you’re male or female—you catch my drift.”
His painted brows bounced as he wagged them, managing to look sleazy even under a pound of clown makeup.
Erik, who’d been considering putting the man in his place, abruptly gave up. Arguing with lunatics was beneath him. You don’t bark at dogs, and you don’t wrestle pigs in the mud.
With a sharp gesture, he dismissed his Brotherhood followers and strode off to prepare—helmet first, always. With that psychic shield, Xavier could stay out of his head and the world was his to command.
That left Hank alone. Unfortunately.
The clown immediately zeroed in on him, throwing an arm around his shoulders like they were old drinking buddies. “So you’re the one who called me, huh? Using ‘aliens’ as the excuse, dragging me into your mess. Do you have any idea how valuable my time is? Dozens of—uh—dollars a minute!”
Hank froze, eyes narrowing. “…Henry?”
The clown grinned wide. “No, no, no! There is no Henry. Only the Super Joker! Just like you—Hank is Hank, Beast is Beast. Two names, same guy, different flavors. I’m the same—part clown, part hero, part idiot, part genius, part coward, part nuisance. I’m basically mutant soup. Stirred, not shaken.”
Hank groaned.
The clown kept babbling, dragging him toward the Blackbird. “So! Aliens. Who are we fighting, huh? ET? I love fighting kids. One punch, they’re out cold. If they cry, you just hit ‘em again. Boom—problem solved! It’s called tough love. I had a whole set of moves drilled into me when I was a kid—never got to use them. Perfect chance now! And hey, kids are way more fun when they’re someone else’s, am I right?”
“Stop! Just—stop!” Hank finally snapped, shoving him off. He rubbed his temples. “Fine. Super Joker. Whatever. Just… get on the plane. Find a seat. And for the love of God, don’t talk to me while I’m flying.”
“Okay!” The clown zipped his mouth shut with an invisible zipper. Then, naturally, he hopped straight into the pilot’s seat.
Hank froze mid-step. “…Do you even know how to fly the Blackbird?”
“Of course!” The clown pointed at random controls like a kid in a toy store. “This one’s the landing gear. That’s the takeoff button. This toggles autopilot parallel parking. That’s the radio dial. And this—ah, my favorite—the steering wheel! Which I think works in reverse? Left means right, right means left? Oh, and that’s the coffee maker. Now where’s the handbrake?”
“Perfect. Every single thing you just said was wrong,” Hank muttered. “Get. Out. Of. My. Seat.”
“But the view’s so good up here!” the clown whined, adjusting the seat height and reclining angle like he was settling in for a road trip.
Enough. Hank shifted into his Beast form, grabbed the clown by the scruff of the neck, and hauled him out of the chair like a misbehaving cat. He dumped him into a back seat and buckled him in. If there’d been welding tools nearby, Hank might’ve sealed him there permanently.
When Erik finally returned with Selene and Sunfire in tow, he immediately noticed the clown, strapped happily into the rear seat. His eyes narrowed. “He’s coming with us?”
Hank’s voice was tight. “Raven was… very specific. She wanted him.”
“Mutant?” Erik asked coldly.
“No.” Hank winced. “…He says he’s an alien.”
The Blackbird went quiet. Erik. Selene. Sunfire. All three slowly turned their heads toward the painted figure.
The clown batted his lashes and gave them wide, watery puppy-dog eyes. The kind of look that made you want to punch him in the face.
And somehow, that was probably the point.
Comments
Jayson Lathrop
I did not see that coming 😂 but I love it!
GodOfDestruction 2.4
This is a translation
Almotazbllah Ahmed
Tbh author this doesn't make sense why does he keep helping them he helped them twice thats none of his problem
