Chapter Text
Some year in the late 1800s...
"Come one, come all to the never heard—never seen before…"
The Ringmaster vaunts, with his bright red tailcoat, accented with golden lamé; a black top hat with a strip of gold as the hatband, two proud feathers sticking from it, a black that gleamed red under the light, stood proud on top of his slick backed hair of ash. White gloved hands brandishing a cane with a golden orb on top, it was faded enough to reveal the silver of the real material.
“But not just any circus… No, no, no! We offer something like no other! Beasts from far and wide; freaks of nature that disrupt the circle of life! From a neighbouring continent, terrorising the locals of that pitiful place. No one was left alive after that, oh the horror! Even the children weren't spared! The things we had to bare witness to. But fret not, friends, these beasts were soon seized, and humans from all over the world are now safe from their wretched mitts, all thanks to who you may ask? Well… all thanks to me!”
The Master signals to the strongman, pulling on a golden rope for the red curtains to reveal a sight like no other. A humanoid avian, monstrous in appearance with feathers black as a crow's— a bad omen to many— that holds highlights of red whenever the sunlight hits just right. It wreathes at the sudden brightness, hiding itself underneath what was left of its wings.
“Behold the ever elusive, Birdman!”
Mothers hid their children from the horror, shielding their eyes from the abomination of what was in the cage. While the men gathered closer toward the spectacle. Sizing the creature up with caution to see if it would rise and break free from the iron bars. Hilarious! They act as if the heavy shackles around its ankles were only for show.
The Master, of course, relished in the symphony of awe and disgust alike from the crowd around them. Daydreaming about the sales this one freak would bring. Imagine the other five! He couldn't wait.
“Such a freakish thing.”
“This must be some man in a costume, I don't believe it.”
“Saviour, he really did capture the beast!”
“...he even tamed the creature.”
“It's horrific to look at. It must be some sort of devil spawn!”
Soon after the initial shock had faded, the crowd began to erupt in a series of cheers. Showering the man with a generous amount of pennies and nickels. The carnies wasted no time in gathering them off the floor.
He basked in the townsfolk’s attention. Sure, to fuel his ego until the day’s end.
“There's no need to thank me. No need at all! Though… I suppose you all could do me a favour… a small one, really!”
With a tap of the Master's staff, the banner behind them unravelled to reveal the carefully painted image of the circus in all its glory. Tallow torches and oil lamps alike hanging off of ropes. A large striped tent of red and white in the centre of it all: The Big Top.
Expecting the people's praise, he extends his arms, eyes closed and smiles dazzling.
But, that embarrassingly never came. The audience was quiet, except for a few coughs. Not quite grasping the idea of a circus.
Tough crowd, they must be new to the idea.
The Ringmaster clears his throat, a carnie dressed in village clothes meticulously positioned behind the crowd— began to clap. Enticing the others to join the applause as quick as the plague.
The man glows again, adjusting his bowtie with a flick of a wrist.
“By grabbing yourself a ticket to see the freaks in action, of course! What was that? Do I hear the beating of your weary hearts of being in such close proximity as the monster? Well, do not worry yourselves!” He nears the cage with a sort of confidence. A facade of bravery. The birdman flinches at the approaching footsteps.
“You see, we've taken precautionary measures,” he smirks, using his staff to reach inside the cage, tapping the steel bindings of the creature. No reaction. “Top of the line wrought iron, crafted and produced in Sheffield, England! Motherland of moi!” The people look on with wonder, amazed with how the creature remained submissive to its master.
“How amazing! Tell us, how much are the tickets, good sir?” His lackey once again interrupted.
“Well, I'm glad you asked, friend!” The Master enthused. Unknowingly taking a step back— dangerously near to the cage. “A seat in our gallery would take you about a shilling. While a reserved spot in the boxes would be four. A steal indeed!” He boomed. “Though, if any of you prefer a more deluxe view of the performance, we can do you a great deal if you bring your little ones with you…”
—
Everything seemed incomprehensible. Overwhelming. It had been so long since he saw the sun, nor the sky. The hunger stabs at him like a dagger, twisting and turning his insides into a mush of weakness. It was loud, too much so. Everything hurt, everything burnt. His dried up wounds still smelt of cardamom that had been left in the sun for too long, with plentiful amounts of rust sprinkled over it. It stung his nostrils.
He never liked the smell of his own blood.
He himself also didn't know if his feathers would ever grow the same again. He concurred that no amount of herb or concoction would ever restore them to their former glory. He had long given up on the thought of ever flying again; soaring through the night air and letting the wind guide him through the heavens.
He keeps pushing the memory to the back of his mind. It was something so trivial, he had legs, he could always walk. But alas, it was what kept him up at night. He would dream of it, the cold air, the stars and the moon. The way he would glide over the abundant forests, the glimmering lakes.
He would indeed love to fly again, if only for a moment.
To his disappointment, he would eventually wake up from the blissful thing. All because of the unbearable, stinging pain of stretching his battered wings in his unconsciousness. To fix this, he instead never sleeps long enough to start dreaming.
In the mess of what he called his thoughts, the avian had registered the familiar scummy scent of a certain human. Close. Very close. Peaking from underneath his wing, he sees the man proudly presenting himself in front of a crowd of new faces. A new location, it seems. He wondered where the others were. It looked like he had only brought three of the dozen carts he had. The Master's red bandwagon stationed a block away. He was alone, and the devil was close. The birdman was quick to scrutinize their surroundings:
His subordinates were scattered along the space, close— but not close enough. Taking note of how relaxed they are. The masses appear to be listening diligently to the devil's words.
They hadn't noticed, excellent.
Even in starvation, he would leave no stone unturned. Alert. Careful. He began to inch toward the opening, slow enough to not let the rickety oak of the floors make even a squeak, nor, the many eyes notice his movement.
He thanked whatever created the man for making him so mouthy. Annoyingly so, but an advantage for creatures like him.
Finally, a window, an opportunity. He didn't care for what would happen to him. His sole wish was to be rid of this monster of a man, to cut him open, to leave him in a pool of beautiful red. He had always pondered how vibrantly colored the scum's insides would be. He wanted— no— needed to see it, he had fantasized about it for so long! So this was what desperation felt like!
Disgusting feeling, perfectly human!
Exciting, thrilling to the bone!
Something entirely new to explore!
It invigorated the good Doctor.
An array of screams and shouts of warning filled the crowd. “Behind you!” Making the brash man arch a brow in confusion. Now turning just in time to meet the wild, red eyes of the caged bird-beast. Just now, did he finally realize how close he was to the signage he had just put up.
‘If you can read this, this means you are too close!’
As quick as a gust of autumn wind on a summer day, the talons of the beast slashed through something unmistakably red.
.
.
.
.
All major choices that will affect the storyline will be done via a voting system, so choose wisely for the sake of the circus and its inhabitants.
The Freak Circus is a Visual Novel created by NekoBoyDreams!
Consider Supporting him! (Tumblr)
This is a fan made work created and posted to feed the idea of a Past!MC AU.
None of the depicted scenes are canon.
(This work will be subjected to many grammar/layout edits in the future.)
.
.
.
.