The clowns stared strangely as the woman moved away, like they'd be suprised she doesn't find them interesting company. They said nothing more, just packed themselves back into their little car, grunting at how heavy the bag was.<br/><br/>Tammy reached the diner she worked in. A modest building of glass and plastic, kept hygenically clean by the pedantic owners. A few conversations sounded from inside, folks commenting on some particularly low-brow radio program that tried to be funny. A girl in a colorful sweater was almost choking on her cofee, giggling at the radio host describing a failed murder ploy that would be too implausible even for a comedy. The owner of the Diner was actually waiting for Tammy in the door, eyeing as she approached to immidietaly direct her to work. "I can't understand what people find so funny in a murder attempt, even if it was so stupid."<br/><br/>Carl was browsing trough a stack of magazines, gloss-covered periodicals discussing only one subject. The owner of the house had a taste for exotic beauties from orient or africa and no shame about any kind of perversion. Then the walkie-talkie sounded again.<br/>"Carl, your daughter asked if you couldn't pick up two tickets for that circus show..."<br/><br/>Tyler driven trough the asphalt like a rider of apocalypse, planet-destroying music blasting behind his back.<br/>He also heard the scream. The agonized cry of panic was completely out of synchronity with the music. But when Tyler was close to the place, there was no sign of anyone shouting. He could just see a girl(Tammy) heading to the bar and a very colorful VW beetle driving away.<br/><br/>