[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/1u2zJGY.png[/img] [sub][color=#cc0000]“[b]T H E G E O M E T R Y O F S H A D O W S[/b]”[/color] [ [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5093500]Prev[/url] ] [color=#c9daf8]Part II[/color] [ Next ][/sub][/center] [b][color=#f1c232]A T L A N T I C C I T Y[/color][/b] [sub][color=#bf9000]HALY’S CIRCUS[/color][/sub] [indent][color=silver]It was some time after one in the morning. The crowds had all gone home. Now, the clean up began. Clowns and freaks changed out of their colorful costumes and set to work, not only in cleaning up the grounds but also in breaking down the tents and booths. The work would take them into the next day, where they’d get a brief rest while waiting for the trucks to arrive. And then it’d be down the road to set it all up again in Gotham. They were going to do one more show, a big July celebration in Vegas, and then go on hiatus for a few months. A little breathing room for vacations, then the planning for the next series of shows would begin in earnest. Swap out different acts, hold auditions and take on a few new routines before the next tour would be announced. “Jason!” Trina Todd had changed out of the colorful leotard. Instead, the acrobat look the part of working mom in a pair of worn jeans and her hand tied back with a bandana. “Jason Todd, get out here this minute!” the woman was going through the broken down carnival, in an otherwise mundane pursuit for a family that was anything but. She turned a corner and nearly ran into C.C. Haly. “Oh, C.C. Have you seen Jason?” The aging entertainer just gave a knowing smile. “Watching the tamers put the lions into their cages,” the former magician supplied, putting a thumb in the direction that the woman should travel. It was when Trina had turned to walk away that the man caught a glimpse of someone walking toward him. [b]Waldo Flynn[/b]. Still in his clown make up. Once upon a time, he’d have been relieved to have seen Waldo. His make-up off, bow tie askew, and usually two glasses of whiskey that they’d share. But that had been when the Graysons had still been with them. Everything had changed after the Graysons had died. Especially Waldo. A cellphone was extended out toward him. “Call for you, Mister Haly,” Waldo stated, the clown make-up appearing to twist the man’s smile into something strangely wicked. The hair stood up on the back of the man’s neck. Gritting his teeth, the old man refrained from accepting the phone. “I’m busy right now,” the man uttered brusquely. If the smile was creepy, then the gleam in Waldo’s eye was down right [b]dangerous[/b]. “It’s a very [i]important[/i] call, Mister Haly.” The patriarch had started to step away, and hesitated then. He lingered, unsure of whether to take one step forward or one step back, for a moment longer. Then relented and accepted the device. [i][color=#b6d7a8]“I hear every show in Atlantic City was [b]sold out[/b]. Congratulations on your success.” [/color][/i] The voice -- graveley, with a thick Jersey accent -- immediately sent shivers through the old man’s body. Gooseflesh crept up the back of his hand as he held the phone to the side of his head. [i][color=#b6d7a8]“Of course, none of us would be where we are if we didn’t have [b]help[/b], now would we? You’ll be in Gotham this week, and I still haven’t received my invitation. Frankly, I’m a little insulted. Haven’t I been good to you? Star City, New York, Atlantic City... no problems with the cops. No social services breathing down your neck about the minors in your crew. No hustlers, you just do your thing. You think that kind of protection is cheap? I’m charging you pennies on the dollar. Now, tell me, I ain’t on your side.”[/color][/i] “It is [b]way[/b] past your bedtime!” At the sound of Trina’s voice, the old man looked off to one side. The woman was dragging Jason, still in his Little Lord Fauntleroy clown suit and make-up, off toward the trailers. The fact that there were families counting on his business for their livelihoods was not lost on the entertainer. With a sigh, the old man finally spoke into the phone. “I’ve just been distracted by all the showtimes, Mister Dent,” the old man said. His free hand dipped into his pocket, withdrawing a handkerchief to dab at his forehead. “You know I appreciate everything that you’re doing for us, sir. If this is about more money..." [i][color=#b6d7a8]“I got money. And I’ve spent a fair amount of it to your benefit. What I want is to see what the return on this little investment of mine is. I’ll need a private show while you’re in Gotham. And I trust this little talent show of yours will prove worthwhile. [b]Capice[/b]?”[/color][/i] It was cordial, but something about it sent a cold terror straight through the man’s soul. “I understand, Mister Dent.” The connection ended with a click. Never had C.C. been so happy with having been hung up on. Waldo’s hand reached for the phone. As he gestured for the man to hand the device back, the clown’s twisted visage mocked the former magician as he happily offered, “Didn’t I say it was an important call?” C.C. slapped the phone back into the palm of the clown’s hand. “What happened to you, Waldo?” the man demanded, staring down the man who’d been with him since the beginning. A man he’d have said he knew best, except he was starting to realize that he didn’t know him at all. This time, the clown face seemed genuine as he gave a laugh. “I’m only laughing on the outside. My smile is just skin deep,” the clown stated, using his free hand to trace the drawn smile upon his face. “If you could see inside, you might join me for a weep,” he said, the poetic recitation ending with a flourish, before the clown turned and walked off. The sound of his fading laughter made the man only grind his teeth more.[/color][/indent] [center][color=#cc0000]+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +[/color][/center] [b][color=#f1c232]B L Ü D H A V E N[/color][/b] [sub][color=#bf9000]LATER THAT MORNING...[/color][/sub] [indent][color=silver]He’d tried to go back to sleep. Instead, he’d just found himself staring up at the ceiling for hours on end, the demarcation of time marked by the clicking of the clock that hung on the wall in the kitchenette. By the time the sun came up, Dick had been seated inside the bay window that looked out into the downtown and already two cups into a second pot of coffee. He’d managed to do some laundry, stumbling around the inside of the apartment with his arm and leg in a cast. Nevermind the impact that had to Nightwing, how was Dick Grayson supposed to manage like this? It was around eight when his phone rang. The number was familiar, though it wasn’t someone that Dick spoke to more than about once every year. Usually his birthday. The name on the caller ID was [b]C. C. HALY[/b]. He almost let it go to voicemail. Hesitated even as he reached to pick up the phone and swipe to answer the call. He didn’t say hello. Why? He couldn’t have offered a reason. After that dream, after that [i]nightmare[/i], it was still just [b]too real[/b] that he’d be talking to Old Man Haly of all people right now. [i]“Dick? C.C. Haly. We’re coming to Gotham and I just thought that I should give you a call before we came.”[/i] A lump formed in his throat. Swallowing that down, Dick finally managed to find his voice. [color=#1e90ff]“Yeah, Mister Haly. I appreciate that.”[/color] [i]“Would you come by to see the circus?”[/i] The old man sounded hopeful just now. It made it hard for Dick to answer. [color=#1e90ff]“No, sir. I don’t think so.”[/color] [i]“I understand.”[/i] Silence. Had that been the only reason for the call? Dick had seen the advertisements about Haly’s Circus returning to Gotham. It would have been impossible not to have. All the Gotham Gazette had been talking about was the fact that this was the first visit by Haly’s Circus to Gotham since the death of the Flying Graysons. It wasn’t that they had any bad blood between them. A lot of good memories in fact. But the bad one hung like a cloud over every facet of his childhood. [i]“What about a job?”[/i] As though hit by a bolt of electricity, Dick froze. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He wanted to hang up. Hang up, be done with it, and not give it a second thought. He didn’t. Instead, he asked, [color=#1e90ff]“A job, sir?”[/color] [i]“I’ve got a pair of acrobats. Husband, wife. You know how that goes.”[/i] Dick’s heart stopped. His chest was tight, like there was an elephant sitting on it. [i]“They’re good, but they’re not John or Mary. They’re as good as natural talent and repetition can make a person, but the right coach would get them to their potential. And, you know there aren’t a whole lot of people that I’d trust to do that sort of thing.”[/i] Dick’s free hand had come up to his chest. He’d broken out into a sweat. [color=#1e90ff]“Yeah. I know, Mister Haly.”[/color] [i]“Obviously, we’d reimburse you for your time. With a little extra, because, I know this probably doesn’t sound like something you want to do.”[/i] That fact didn’t so much as require a reply. They both knew it was true. [i]“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need you, Dick.”[/i] [color=#1e90ff]“I’ll come by and see the circus, Mister Haly.”[/color] [i]“Good! We’ll talk then--”[/i] He hung up on the old man. Cradling the phone in his lap, Dick just stared down at the blank screen for a long minute. The fuck was he doing?[/color][/indent]