Cirque De Sem'ya

Chapter 3 - Preparation

The clacking of the railroad tracks filled the cars along with the light chatter of it's occupants. This was no ordinary train, this one particular was housing the company of The Cirque De Sem'ya. Under the cover of night, the company traveled from city to city, leaving only the shadows in their wake.

Three blasts of the engine horn signaled the company to make their way to the gathering car. Before and after every show they would meet up there as one. The whole car was finely decorated by the honorary mother of them all, lined with settees and chairs with pillows and cushions for their comfort. Many of the company were not used to such luxury before joining, so the gathering car was all still a comfort to adjust to.

The Ringleader was already waiting for them when they began to arrive through both doors. He set down the stack of tickets he was fiddling with in his hands and started to applaud.

"Bravo, Bravo! A perfect show if I must say, you all were spectacular."

"Now, Now, Mikhail, mustn't get too overzealous. We can't get too distracted." The female Knife Thrower chided, striding up to while everyone else took a seat. Her older brother stood close by.

"Anya, I'm not distracted, I'm... thinking towards other things, shall we say?" He gently kissed her cheek and sent her back to one of the open settees with her brother. There was no physical proof denying the relation between the three Russians in the company, there was no proof saying it was a just a ruse, a trick to mess with people's heads.

"I could have gone lower." The Fire breather muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

"Yes, you could but if we're not careful we run the risk of having an injury tied back to us and we can't have that, now can we?"

"Não.." Was the reply and was good enough for the Ringleader.

"Never shall the world know who we are and what we do. God has turned his back on us and the Devil seems to be all we have left to hold. We have opened the eyes of these people to show them what is truly out there for them but they are simply too blind to see. And for those who do not believe in what we are...we make an example of them. Poor William had to pay the ultimate price for his skepticism and in turn the Devil had us show him no mercy. Those who saw us last night now believe, believe in the darkness and believe in the magic beyond the world of reality." The man took the small glass on the table beside him and rose it in the air. "To the Cirque De Sem'ya!"

"To the Cirque De Sem'ya" They all called out in unison, raising their own glasses in the air for a toast.

The Ringmaster watched over his company as a father would over his children; proud and impressed. There was never a time that they had disappointed them, only proved to him that there was room to improve and grow. They had been so broken and lost when he found them, yet here they were, rebuilt and content with the new life they held.

"Hey Cap'n, there's something you probably want to see." The hollowed voice from the horn against the wall called out. The voice had a Cajun tone and was owned by the finest mechanic this side of the Mississippi River. It was a miracle the Ringmaster was able to snatch her up before anyone else did.

"Enjoy yourselves, my dears. You deserve it. I'll return soon, there's a matter I must attend to apparently." The Ringmaster bade them farewell and slipped through the curtained car door and through a series of equally decorated compartments until reaching the engine room.

The Mechanic, a blonde haired young woman who slid the sooty goggles off of her face and turned to the Ringmaster. Her face was just as sooty and greasy save the distinct markings the goggles left behind. It was a rare sight to find a female in a line of work such as a mechanic, but the Ringmaster knew her abilities and knew she was up to the task at hand, and she had yet to prove him wrong.

"Telegraph just came in, took the time to write it out. You're going to get a kick outta it, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Renée. That will be all. I will watch over things here." He carefully took the slip of paper into his hand and stopped before reading too far. "Be a dear, send Sebastian and Weslyn to the business car. Matters are bound to get very...interesting."

She nodded and slipped the goggles back over her eyes. He could hear her relay the message through the horn. The business car was not much unlike the gathering one but was furnished with tables and chairs that would fit kindly in the office of a businessman in the city. The Ringmaster sat at the grand desk at the far end, leaning back in his chair and reviewing the message until his guests arrived.

The Psychic, a young English lad, came to the circus with hopes of using the mystics arts of the stars and the mind. The tawny colored trench coat fitted him perfectly, a gift he had brought with him from his family before making the journey across the Atlantic. His copper colored hair often got him confused by the Western counterparts of the Great Britain.

The Ambassador, a darling girl, one of the eldest of the crew. She did not bring forth an act for the Cirque De Sem'ya, but brought forward something just as appealing. She had the beauty of a silver tongue, to protect the crew from those who look too closely and bring forth beauty to mask away the grim reality that was the truth.

The Ringmaster held out the paper towards the Psychic who took in his fingerless gloved hands. "What can you make of it?"

"Just by the looks of it, I would say someone is getting their business where it shouldn't belong. A force officer if I had to guess," The Psychic paused and ran his fingertips over the lettering. "He knows nothing, barely any evidence to prove anything. Inconsequential at best."

"We mustn't take any threat lightly, my boy. No matter how insignificant he proves to be, if all goes in our favor, this little officer may prove to be of use to us. Have Renée take us to the nearest station, we will depart the day after tomorrow. Weslyn, how do you feel about a jaunt to give our new friend a proper Cirque De Semy'a welcome?"

"It would be my pleasure."

The Ringmaster nodded and took the message back into his hand. He let the two leave to relay the proposal put into place. The world was inching back, it had tried to know more about them times than he could possibly remember, but never the Force. The circus seemed insignificant to them, there were bigger fish to fry. This officer would be drowned out among the crowds, they would put him in his place and vanish into the night before he even realized. What brought forth a greater curiosity, is that if he was so intent on the truth, did that mean he believed, or was this a test of faith? If it was the latter, the Ringmaster would have to make sure the Marksman knew his duties to take matters into his own hands at the turn of a dime.