by Hugo Damas
H:
H:
I retrieved the artifact. It seems to be important since a beast was there to destroy it.
I will leave for the meeting but may not arrive in time.
Zaniyah blushed at seeing both H’s. So the initials were imprinted automatically. Looking up, she could have guessed that from Circus Freak’s entries, his drawings were also prefixed by his initials.
“What is that?” Thunuk asked, peering into the scroll. She twitched her nose in doubt.
“That is good question.” Zaniyah closed the scroll and began writing a message for the Wild Felids, on normal paper. “It is a strange world out there, Thunuk. We all make use of many things we do not know or understand.”
“That sounds dangerous,” Thunuk commented.
“It is not about being safe,” Zaniyah explained, “it is about what works. Most of the time.”
The Hunter signed the letter. It was a simple letter that explained she had run off to complete the task given to her by Mother Superior. She had been successful. She would deliver the retrieved item to their allies at Shadow Conclave. Finally, she asked that they would send someone to meet her with new instructions and news.
“Most of the time?” Thunuk asked
The Hunter shrugged in response and handed the message to the bird warden, along with a string that he would attach to its claws to verify it came from her.
“You should save your questions,” Zaniyah said, not without compassion. “The real world has very few answers. When it does, they often match questions no one asked.”
Thunuk smirked, amused. “The real world does not sound like a fun place.”
Zaniyah smiled back at him, meaningfully. “It is.”
Turning thoughts to more important matters, Zaniyah felt inexplicably hopeful. The others seemed to have all been successful which meant they really were making some considerable progress in their fight against the Beasts. Perhaps, they would actually be the ones to make a real difference and save the world.
Surely, Thunuk’s assistance and dedication was the stuff of miracles. Destiny guiding hearts down the right paths, towards preordained goals.
Thinking about it, it was almost enough for her not to worry about Mother Superior so much.
Almost.
Chaos and Fun
Anarchy.
How could one be “led” by a lack of leadership? A group with anarchy in the name shouldn’t implement the concept of hierarchy in the first place, let alone have leaders and groups and squads.
But what did he know? He was just a clown. Or a jester, depending on who was asked.
Hugo Martins, the Circus Freak, held his grin wide and eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. He perhaps had the same look when he was really sleeping, but he wasn’t sure of that, so he preferred to stay awake. Every minute or two, he would giggle creepily. Or chuckle dangerously. Sometimes, he mumbled vague threats.
The Circus Freak was riding a train, and he was not making the voyage on the very important people carriage, where one could ride alone, but with the regular folk, where people rode in groups. Tight lines went from the back to the front, with some of them actually facing each other, and he was in one such section.
The passengers sitting next to him, and in front of him, were understandably freaked out, and the others were finding every reason not to walk past him.
He wondered if he would ever find out why affecting people in that manner amused him so much. Maybe one day he would think about it, but so far in his life, the Circus Freak had never seen the interest in questioning what gave him joy.
After a couple of hours of that, the Circus Freak pretended to wake up from a nightmare. It was a startle that scared the people next to him
“Oh wow! I just had the craziest dream,” the Circus Freak announced. He looked aside at the woman who had the misfortune to be sitting next to him, “the train was attacked by the Beasts, and it was a massacre! That didn’t actually happen, did it?”
The woman involuntarily met his gaze and shook her head. “Not yet?”
“Good, good,” Hugo said happily, and smiled. “Night’s young, though!”
“Hum. It’s…not night,” another passenger pointed out.
“Well it is where the Beasts are,” the Circus Freak told them with a wink.
Then, the Circus Freak opened the magical communication scroll.
The Shadow Conclave had mailed it so it would be waiting for him after his mission, on Norwayaka’s main train station. He tried writing something on it, but it didn’t stick. His ink invisible ink would just stay invisible. With a bored sigh, he instead read back to see if there were any new messages that might be funny.
The Hunter had messed up and manually written her initial, so it showed up twice, and that made him chuckle. The Mad Genius had written some kind of threat directed at someone, the man really liked to remind others that he was dangerous. And there was an additional entry reminding everyone that the meeting would be in two days.
Hugo closed the scroll, his attention demanded by two men looming over him. He hadn’t noticed, but they were intimidating the two women who sat to his left. He felt their violent stare, so he shoved the scroll inside his pants and looked up at the two. They had mismatched padded uniforms and wore gas masks, all of it grayish and boring.
The Circus Freak relaxed his shoulders and smirked up at smokey. “Anarchist, huh?”
“We are Led by Anarchy. We--”
“Working together!” The Circus Freak said, giving them a single one hand clap, which made no sound since it just hit an hollow sleeve. “How adorable. You guys should pick up a dictionary, really. Look up some words. Like anarchy?”
The nearest man with a breathing dysfunction drew a pistol and aimed at him. The passengers flinched and froze, staring at it.
“You will surrender the diary,” the artificial snout stated, threateningly. The Circus Freak sighed and closed his eyes.
“Boys. Men. Geezers? Can’t really tell with your masks on, listen, are we gonna talk this out like the lunatics we are or am I gonna have to hurt ya?”
The smoke-o-phobe wielding the pistol grunted. “I don’t even know why we keep trying to ask.”
“Lunatics,” the Circus Freak answered, widening his smirk. “I just tolja why.”
Hugo swiped his arm, slapping the gun aside. A bullet pierced the seat in front of him, hitting the father, going through the chair, and hitting someone else. As the entire carriage began to scream in terror, the Circus Freak kicked the man to push him off and meanwhile heard gas bursting into the room.
A quick glance revealed that the second man had a grenade-looking canister in each hand, and both were already expelling gas. He threw them at opposite sides of the train.
“There’s no way out now, freak!” yelled mister gassy.
The Circus Freak laughed at both men for two solid seconds and then lunged.
The Circus Freak had been sitting on the first of the three seats at the center, and the man he had kicked was off-balance next to the second just off the wall. The people sitting on those two seats were awkwardly trying to pretend they weren’t there.
The gas was spreading fast and quickly becoming thick. Hugo could already hear people coughing.
The Circus Freak dove and jumped off the seat’s armrest with all his strength, tackling that out-of-balance foe right into the window. They hit the window hard, but it didn’t break.
“What are you doing?!” The anarchist asked.
“WHAT I WANT!” the Circus Freak growled, excited and full of enthusiasm, as he kicked against something. Might have been a person, might have been the seat itself, but it gave him enough traction to put his full weight into another shove.
The window gave in, and they plunged out of the moving train to the sound of maniacal laughter and the continuous screams of the crowd they left behind.
The Circus Freak wrestled in the seconds they were falling to make sure the anarchist took the
brunt of the fall, pushing him off upon contact to minimize the force inflicted on his own body.
Hugo giggled as he came to a stop. He was still laughing when he heard the man moan coarse complaints.
“You’re in-you’re insane!” yelled he who should have never played with smoke.
The Circus Freak stood up. He had retained some cuts and a particular rash on his arm but was otherwise pretty much okay. The train was already leaving them behind, its smoke trail swallowing the faint gas which was exiting out the window he had broken through.
Hugo walked up to ol’ smokey there, identifying that he had broken a leg and dislocated both arms. It was easy to tell just by how said limbs were positioned about the torso.
“At least I know my dictionaries, anarchist,” Hugo mocked, “you don’t look in good shape.”
“Oh, I’m going to kill you….KILL YOU!” Smokey managed to yell, amidst painful groaning.
“Yes yes.” Hugo waved him down, dismissively, and then crouched. “Queue up for the line, sunshine. And while yer waiting, tell me how you found me. I’m curious.”
Mister smokes shivered in pain, probably from a failed attempt to attack. “Go to the void, freak. Ahhhrgh, I’m going to kill you.”
The Circus Freak’s expression suddenly flipped into a passive state. Bored. The manifestation of predictability was writhing in pain, cursing and threatening.
“Are you just goin--”
“TO THE VOID! I’ll kill you, I swear I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you.”
Hugo kicked the smoldering disappointment in the head to knock him out, suddenly hateful of him
“Be as crazy as you want, anarchist. Just don’t be boring.” Disgruntled and annoyed, Hugo turned and walked away. “That’s just the worst.”
He needed to find another means of transportation, which proved very achievable. The Circus Freak found some a merchant rushing some merchandise on a caravan pulled by a loud and slow tractor. He convinced her to take him along.
The Circus Freak might be a bit late because of it, but oh well. At least he had company. Lying in the back, right next to the crates she was transporting, he appreciated the fact that they could still hear each other.
“Do you have any interesting stories?” Hugo asked, pretty soon into the trip.
“Stories? Like what kind?” She asked back.
“The interesting kind,” he said with a grin. “Crazy ones.”
Crazy was right. It soon became apparent that the Circus Freak was riding with a serial killer. While it wasn’t really his thing, it did make good grounds for funny stories. He hadn’t laughed that much -- in response to someone else -- in a long time.
“So this kid’s looking from me to her, from her to me, completely lost, right? Whoever he recognizes is absolutely screwed. But he didn’t see or hear me doing anything, he just heard me laugh and eat that apple,” Her voice explained, engaged in nostalgia.
“Right! And then?” Hugo asked loudly, eager to know.
“So they tell us to laugh, and then to eat an apple, it was so silly.” Her laughter shot loudly and briefly. “My life hanging on such a random thing? Hilarious.”
“I’m guessing the brat picked the innocent woman?” The Circus Freak asked.
“Yes!”
They laughed together.
“That’s hilarious! What kinda law is that?!” Hugo remarked.
“I know!” She agreed.
“Proof? Testimony? Who needs any o’ that!?”
“That was the end of the scalper,” she announced with a shrug, “and the beginning of the skinner.”
“Ew, you skinned people?” Hugo asked, mock-sickened.
“Just their butts,” she replied with a short giggle. “Have you ever seen glistening butt-cheeks?”
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” the Circus Freak had to admit.
“That’s what I’d do to them. I’d skin their butts and leave them in the air for their buddies to find. Sometimes I’d put something in-between the cheeks.”
Hugo chuckled. “Like what?”
“I dunno…cucumbers, bananas, something to eat for sure. I found that appropriate, for some reason,” she explained, amused. He could tell how being able to share those stories was a truly rare experience.
It was even rarer to be able to listen to them. “So you were still targeting rapists?” He asked.
“Oh yeah.” She was enjoying some kind of sweet as she talked, licking and slurping away casually, unbothered by the heavy-handed conversation. “You ever wanna go on a killing spree, pick rapists. Of children, if ye can, and make sure it’s known! Nobody’s chasing you too hard so long as you kill people they wanted dead n’ gone. Plus, those kind o’ people are always around everywhere.”
The Circus Freak chuckled again. That said a lot about the pre-supposed morality of the law and those who upheld it. Self-righteous people were picking and choosing, judging who was worth protecting and who wasn’t.
“Here’s to morality!” the Circus Freak announced, raising an invisible chalice to the roof of the carriage. “Convenient and adapting, but above all else, so predictable!”
She laughed. “Hear hear!”
She was somewhere “above” him and out of sight since he was lying down on his back. So far, however, she was probably the most interesting person he had met in the past few years. She was like him in the way she was not really interested in playing good and honorable. For anyone’s sake.
“But jokes aside, it really is like th--”
“Hey hey, no jokes aside,” Hugo interrupted, and with a serious tone, too, plus by banging on the wood of the carriage. “Never put jokes aside, they’re the best thing about the world!”
“Whoah, okay,” she admonished, with a short giggle. “No problem, Mr. Freak.”
“Oh, you know who I am?” He asked, curious.
“What? What do you mean?” She asked in return.
“The Circus Freak.”
“Ooohh.” She hummed in realization, “yes, well, name fits ya like a glove. So you’re really him?”
“Wait, you didn’t know? Why’d you call me Mr. Freak then?”
“’Cause you’re a freak?” He could almost feel her raising an eyebrow, “why else would you be amused by my stories? Normal people are appalled, not entertained. ”
“Maybe I just really hate rapists, did you consider that?” Hugo asked.
“Folk don’t chase me that hard, sure, but that don’t mean they think it’s all that funny. Or acceptable.”
“Pfah.” The Circus Freak chuckled, “If someone goes into a room and sees an ex-rapist, butt-up glistening with a cucumber in-between the cheeks…and they don’t laugh? Something’s wrong with ‘em, they’re the freaks.”
She laughed, and that pleased him a lot. “No, Mr. Freak,” she still giggled, “something’s wrong with us.”
The Circus Freak shrugged. “Well, to each their own.”
The carriage then wrested into a stop.
“We’re stopping? ‘Ve we arrived?”
“No, I just need to sleep,” she said.
“Ah, should I exit? What town’ve you brought us to?”
“What? No,” and again, he sensed the raised eyebrow, “I’m just going to close my eyes for a few hours. You should do the same.”
“What? Here in the middle of the road?” He asked, mock-appalled.
“We’re not exactly on the road,” she exasperated, “listen, I’m on a schedule, I can’t really debate this with you, okay? Shush, let me sleep.”
Hugo heard the wood creak a little bit as her back relaxed against it, just inches from the top of his head. Within five minutes, she was snoring with somewhat off-putting tranquility.
The Circus Freak had to admit he loved it. “Heh. This world is so full of interesting people, isn’t it?”
He thought about it, Hugo hadn’t slept in the train which meant he had been awake for two days.
Is it two days? Maybe it was more?
He lost track sometimes, but he knew it’d been enough that he would just pass out if he wanted to sleep for real. The Circus Freak followed the lead of the serial killer and went to sleep.
He woke up with the movement of the carriage. He shrugged and stretched, sitting up. The Circus Freak hated feeling stiff.
“So tell me about yourself, Circus Freak. If that’s really your name,” she jested.
“Ha!” Good delivery on that one. “It’s not actually my real name, how’d you know?”
“What’re you doing back there?” She asked, hearing him moving around.
“Stretching,” he let her know. “Gots to be limber.”
“Limber? You’re just lying down all day,” she said.
“Oh no, not today. Need to keep in shape, people aren’t gonna freak themselves out, ya know?”
“Ah,” she said sagely.
Hugo did a handstand and started doing pushups.
“So what can I call you?” She asked.
“Amazing,” the Circus Freak answered, making her cough one laugh. “Freakish! Outlandish! Hilaaaaarious! So many things to call me, and all of them true, too!”
Hugo flipped and did a split, proceeding to perform sit-ups. He did them slowly since they were difficult to pull off while maintaining the split.
Meanwhile, she wrapped up her laugh. “Well okay, Amazing. So seriously, you’re the Circus Freak?”
“Clothes say circus, attitude says freak!” He yelled back, fully amused.
“Tell me your story, then.”
“You want to know my past?” Hugo asked, dramatically. “The tragedy! The woes and throes of fate and destiny! How I’ve been flayed and disgraced by the very people I once wished to entertain?”
“Pfah, no, not at all.” She scoffed, “I want to hear about the funny stuff, hillaaaaaarious.” She said it sarcastically. The woman spoke with such an attitude that the Circus Freak burst out with laughter, losing his balance in the process. He fell on his back, temporarily dislocating his right leg.
“Oh boy, you’re a riot! Yeah, okay,” the Circus Freak snapped the leg back into place and crossed his legs, “I’ll tell ya all about the magnificent clown! Hugo!”
