A young boy sneaks into a circus.
The size of it leaves him awestruck. The flashing lights, the glitz and the glamor, it’s a marvel to his young homeless eyes.
The performers are a family. They’re synchronized and faultless – their lives depend on it.
A voice narrates.
“Through the eyes of a young boy, the circus is a source of wonder. I sat on the stanchions with my eyes fixated on the daring stunts and freaks of nature. Their precision and candor a marvel to behold.”
A strongman lifts an incredible feat of weight, dropping it at his feet to a roar from the crowd. The Ringmaster applauds him fervently.
“From my seat, I could feel the adoration. I could feel the love. I’d never felt something like that before. I was forever alone. Miserable. My days were lonely and my nights were dank and dangerous. I wanted it. I’m not ashamed to admit it, Klaus. I wanted it. This family of performers that travelled the Slums of Arcadia were everything I’d ever dreamed of.”
The show has finished and the young boy slinks behind the curtains, hoping to bump into The Ringmaster.
What he finds is the Ringmaster whipping one of the performers with his cane, brutally beating them at they sob for failing to perform at the standard he desired.
The others watched. No-one helped. No-one stepped in. They all stood with their heads lowered and their hearts racing.
The boy watched in horror.
“I’d seen many things that terrified me on the streets. I’d had many things done to me that were worse. But the moment I stepped behind that curtain and saw the reality of their world, not the vision of it I was led to believe, I felt nothing but empty.
It turned out that the Ringmaster was a tyrant. Those who worked for him weren’t family, but credit making machines. They earned for him. They existed to earn for him. Should they fail to do their job, he’d punish them.
Every part of their show, their performance, was exactly that. It was a lie; a fairytale told to put credits in the pockets of selfish men who didn’t care for anything or anyone but themselves.”
The young boy slinks out of the curtain and back into the streets of the slums.
The scene fades away, leaving Gravedigger sat before us.
“I always wanted a family, Klaus. The first time I saw one of your kind, I was a mark for everything you sold me. I believed in it. Now I know the truth. I know what you do to the people in your employ. I know how you manipulate and abuse them. I know what they really mean to you, and when that curtain was lifted, I realized that I’d never let a man like you treat me the same way.
Next week at Vendetta, someone needs to bring the curtain down on Klaus Way and his house of horror.
And it’s any grave but my own.”