Carnival of Nightmares

Stab Unit™ Case File 2730-222

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Blood on the Blacktop

The first body turned up under the cracked glow of a street lamp outside the old Griffith freight yard. The victim’s chest was opened as if by a careless surgeon.

Organs were missing, but there was no blood, only a slick of pale foam that steamed in the cool Los Angeles night.

Painted on the asphalt in circus-poster red were four words:

“WELCOME TO THE SHOW”

By sunrise, there were three more victims strung along the Expo rail line, each carved the same way, each marked with that same taunt.

Every witness the police found swore they had heard carousel music drifting through the dark, even though the nearest carnival was a half mile south at a fenced-off fairground.

Captain Reyes, LAPD Major Crimes, knew the pattern felt wrong for any human crew. He called an old number he kept for special occasions.

“Tony Amaral, Stab Unit. Talk to me,” came the voice on the other side, rough with sleep and booze.

Reyes let out a slow breath. “Tony, I need the Stab Unit. Something’s eating people and writing catchy slogans in ten-inch letters.”

Amaral was on the next flight from São Paulo.

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The Stab Unit Arrives

Tony Amaral stepped off the mag-lev at LAX in a black field jacket that hid the scars of his last assignment.

The silver medallion around his neck thumped against his sternum as he walked. At the center of the disk, a green crystal pulsed in time with his heartbeat, a last-resort teleport that burned every cell in the body if you used it.

Tony had only pressed it once, and that night still haunted him and brought bile to his mouth.

Halliday, the Institution’s greasy West Coast director, met him at the curb in an armored sedan. The usual stink of cigar smoke followed the man like bad karma.

“Nice of you to join us,” Halliday grunted. “Death toll’s at seven. LAPD doesn’t know what the hell’s going on.”

“Seven?” Tony slid into the back seat, face unreadable. “What’s the chatter on Skiba?”

The car’s AI voice answered from the dash. “Local feeds confirm a traveling circus called ‘Carnival Nocturno’ opened near the river two days ago. Witnesses report clowns passing out free tickets.”

Tony rubbed his temple. “Clowns, always clowns. Got anything on the management?”

“Owner of record is one Felix Grin. No last name in the archives. Show has no fixed route, jumps city to city, permits vanish after they leave.”

Halliday tossed a thin file on the seat. Inside were morgue shots. Every corpse wore an expression of absolute terror, eyes wider than should be possible.

“They died scared,” Tony whispered, tracing the photos. “Whatever did this fed on that fear.”

Halliday glanced at the medallion. “Good to see you packed the last resort.”

“I packed everything,” Tony said. He did not add that he also carried a thumb-sized vial of nerve disruptor he swore never to use again.