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“Come on, Catti! Come play with us!”
“Yeah, you can play anyone you want!”
Catti looked between Noelle and Kris. She then looked at the scattered cards and chess pieces surrounding the laptop they brought from the library. All this for a game of Make Believe? It was weird. It wasn’t normal.
Which means she could respect it.
She glanced at the kitchen, where her father was talking to Toriel about Choir Practice. She looked to the sofa, where Dess was sowing a patch into a plush cat while Asriel watched.
“So, like...What’s available?”
“Uhhhh Kris has the card kings, and I have Queen Laptop. None of the black chess pieces are in use yet, and most of the cards aren’t in use yet, either. Oh, and Kris is also using that power strip, so that’s off limits.”
“We need a new idea.”
Catti wandered over to the pile of cards. A few of the diamond and heart cards were being used as guards for the kings. She grabbed both of the Joker cards and made her way over to the black chess pieces.
“Alright. I got an idea for you guys.”
There once was a large traveling circus. The circus had it all: Clowns, Acrobats, Lion Tamers, Jugglers, Contortionists. But for the ringleader, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. More acts, more talent, more money. Nothing was off limits for him. His greed was so great, he took everything he could get his filthy hands on.
One day, a hungry teenage boy had the misfortune of purchasing a ticket with the last of his money. The last of his money was used to try and bring one last moment of joy into his life before it finally ended. He had nothing left. No family, no friends, no reason to live. He’d die at least having no regrets.
Instead of going to the stands to take his seat, his hungry mind took him to the center of the stage, where the dancers had already started their act. When the ringleader finally noticed, he was furious, but he couldn’t just stop the show now. His greed refused to let the customers have any reason to demand a refund. It would be easier to just let the boy wander back off and give him a little hush money.
However, rather than being kicked, something amazing happened. The boy bent over completely backwards to avoid the dancers’ feet from kicking him in the jaw. His legs rose out of the way of one of them spinning. They settled on the opposite side to avoid another dancer’s arms.
The crowd “oohed” at the display of contortionism happening in the middle of the dancing act. It was different from the usual, but not unwelcome. The ringleader saw the intrigue of the crowd as the jugglers came out to replace the dancers.
The boy was still wrapped in confusion as to what was going on when he was suddenly thrown a knife. He tossed it back, but another one was coming his way. It took him a few passes and catches to realize that he was now a part of the act. He was juggling. In front of everyone!
And the crowd seemed invested in this new contortionist who was also a juggler.
They liked him, the ringleader realized. They really liked that kid.
Now that the boy realized what was actually happening, he decided to actually think about his actions when the real contortionists came out after the jugglers. He figured since he bent for the dancers, he should dance for the benders! But his dance came out uncoordinated and way too silly. The crowd laughed at him. But they also cheered!
All his life, the boy had been laughed at. No one ever truly paid attention to him before. Now he has a whole crowd laughing and cheering FOR him. It was new. It was exhilarating.
He never smiled this big for this long in his whole life.
“But isn’t the boy gonna die?”
“He thought so. But the ringleader finally caught him when he stepped off the stage for the Lion Tamers. He offered the boy a job in the circus to be a general understudy.”
“A...what?”
“An understudy is basically someone who will take your place in a performance if you can’t do it for some reason, Elly.”
“Oh! Thanks, Dessy!”
“Guys, shush! I wanna know what happens next!”
“She’s getting there, you shush, Krismas!”
Catti cleared her throat, and the two playing children stopped talking to pay attention.
The boy stayed with the traveling circus. He learned from every actor. He memorized every dance move, every odd bend, every gag, every jump, every twist. Even the animals responded well to him. Every minute of his life was dedicated to performing. It was his calling. His passion. His reason for waking up in the morning. He lived for the laughs and cheers of the crowd.
He lost track of how many years he worked for the ringleader. It could’ve been decades, and he wouldn’t have known. Every day, he woke up tired and hungry, but unwilling to do anything about it. His entire existence was wrapped up by the circus. The boy who was once dying but free was now just a puppet of a man. The ringleader pulled his strings to make him dance. He was a part of every last act, no longer a mere understudy.
All of the other actors didn’t care. They took as much advantage of him as the ringleader did. With him in every act, there was no need for everyone to be working. They all slacked off while he maintained his perfect act.
They dined and partied and laughed and jeered, indulging in the same greed and gluttony. All off the back of this hopelessly lost man. He was constantly exhausted, but taking even a moment to just breathe felt like he was abandoning the one thing in life that made him feel whole.
But one day...One day, a new visitor came to watch the circus.
This visitor, like the circus itself, was a traveler. A powerful mage traveling the world looking to perfect the craft in its entirety. The mage bought a ticket and took a seat, hoping someone would perform a feat of magic yet unseen.
Yet those too-observant eyes fell onto the hopeless puppet. The way he swayed while balancing. The way his eyes sagged against the light while juggling. The way his bones were showing while contorting himself. The way his smile strained as he danced.
The mage could tell he was a dead man walking.
Yet, the mage couldn’t help but notice the way he straightened up when the ringleader called for a round of applause for him. The way his eyes lit up as the crowd laughed. The way his body held itself up as he took a bow. The way his eyes lit up when everyone cheered for him.
Once the show was over, the wanderer walked over to the puppet.
“You’re exhausted,” the mage had said. “You’re skin and bones. You’re unhappy with your work. Yet you keep going. Why?”
“I must, I must! The show must go on! Without me, the show will fail! But it will go on, to no avail! Nothing else brings me any sort of happiness, anyway. My life belongs, belongs on the stage! Whatever the ringleader wants, I work to deliver, deliver!”
“...Even off the stage, you’re performing. You don’t have to talk like that now.”
“Oh no, oh no! Really, I mustn’t! A moment out of practice is a moment of weakness, weakness! We can’t have weakness when lives are on the line! The threads of life are already so fine! Besides, besides! Surely you’ve noticed you and I are kindred spirits, spirits! Who are you to be judging lil’ ol’ me, me?”
The puppet was right. The mage could sense it in him: the spirit of a Wildcard. The two of them were the same, in that sense. Both internalizing a craft of their choice and sharpening it to its absolute perfect form. They walked similar paths of life.
And within the puppet’s soul, there was a great power that rivaled even the old mage’s. He could harness great magic, if he so chose to.
It was sad to know that this was the target the Court Magician was sent to eliminate. Him and the circus harboring him.
“So the old mage is the Court Magician for Card Kingdom?”
“Yep. The kings sensed a powerful being within the circus. And they knew that the ringleader would do anything for power and wealth.”
Kris pointed to the king of diamonds. “I bet the Diamond King sent the mage! The ringleader was making too much money!”
Noelle pointed to the king of spades. “Or maybe the Spade King didn’t want a Joker to overthrow him.”
Dess stood up with Asriel. “We’ll be right back, guys. Ran out of thread, finally.”
Kris’s older brother ruffled the hair behind their horned headband. “If you’re gonna play with Seam, be extra gentle. There’s still an opening in the back.”
“We will be, Azzy!”
The two of them left the house. Eyes were back on Catti, eager for the story to continue.
“Did the old mage kill him?”
“Kris!”
“Sure did...”
It all happened so fast. One moment, he was practicing Trapeze, and the next moment, he was on the ground. The safety net had a hole in it that was about Him-sized. His leg twisted the completely wrong way.
More importantly, the big top was up in flames.
Smoke filled his lungs as he watched his fellow actors desperately try to put out the fire on the bodies. The ringleader was already dead, the mage standing over his corpse.
Everyone around him was dying. And there was nothing he could do about it.
He fell onto his back, trying to steady his breathing. He was dying. He knew he was. Between the smoke and numbness of his legs, he knew his time was up.
The Court Magician stood over him.
“In death, I shall set you free from your strings. A puppet no longer. Whatever is next for you, I hope you find peace.”
But he could see it in the mage’s eyes. Death wasn’t just after one wildcard today. The mage’s body was too old, too spent.
The mage collapsed beside him, no longer breathing.
The world started fading away. In the end, he really did die alone and hungry. Just like he planned that day he bought a ticket for the circus. In the end, his fate was inevitable. The choices he made didn’t make any difference. This was his curse.
Yet in the blackness of death, there was someone else. A pair of eyes, one magenta and one yellow, and a great big smile looking down at him.
“Who are you...?” He asked to the void.
“A friend!” The void said back. “I can tell you are angry at yourself for letting it end this way. Dying in a fire is no way for a performer like you to go. So I’ve come to help you.”
“Are you a demon...? Is this Hell...?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But you could be a demon. Or you can be in Hell. The choice is yours.”
“...The catch...?”
“One day, you’ll learn something terrible. And it will change you forever. And you may not like who you become. But in exchange, I’ll give you the ability to be exactly who YOU want to be. The power to do ANYTHING your heart desires! You know you’re a Joker, just like that old magician, right?”
A Joker? But that wasn’t possible. Jokers are incredibly rare beings of power. They had the ability to match the strongest of the strong. They had the world at their fingertips. And him? He was like the Old Maid. The worst card in the deck. No way could he be a Joker. He was nothing. He was no one. He--
...
Every act, he was able to match...Even skills that took long to achieve, he was able to master in record time...
...He just never had the motivation to accomplish anything.
“Now you’re catching on. Just let your new friend help you, and you’ll live on in a body that can never be killed!”
He had no real choice. Between that and Hell, it was the only logical thing to agree to.
“Well then. Let’s get started!”
“So what WAS that thing in the void? Was it actually a demon?”
“Elly, it said it was a Friend. It’s vague on purpose.”
“Kris...Can I finish the story?”
“Sorry, Catti...”
Catti picked up the red joker and folded it in half. And then she folded that in half, too.
“What are you doing, Catti?”
“The Court Magician died in that fire, but the soul lived on. The soul has to go somewhere.”
She stood up and picked up the plush that Dess was fixing. She stuffed the folded card into the cotton revealed by the open seam. She made sure it was buried deep within before putting the toy back.
“So the performer became a demon?”
“Yeah.”
“Then what?”
Catti’s father stepped out of the kitchen. “Time to go, sweetie.”
“Yeah. Later, guys.”
“Awww”
“Bye, Catti!”
The Cattenheimers left, leaving Noelle and Kris to stew the new ideas brought to their game.
“Guess it’s up to us to figure out what happens next...”
“Hmm...Oh! I know! But we should wait for Dessy to fix Seam.”
“Let’s go see if mom made any food in the meantime!”
How many years has it been since that day? How many years since he woke up as an imp? How many years has he been wandering the world as a Grim Reaper? A harbinger of Death itself?
His Devilsknife cut out so many sickly plants in the Fields of Life. So many lives were taken that threatened to rotten the crops. So many souls harvested when their time came.
He had once looked at his reflection in a window. Eyes turned pure black, skin turned eerily blue, small horns protruding from his head, hair evenly split between black and white, and a long tail with a handle end.
A demon, he was. A bad omen.
And he was miserable.
The new life granted to him brought him no joy. The new tricks he learned helped. Especially when dealing with a natural death. But he was one of many Grim Reapers. He didn’t stand out. And there were certainly no cheers for him when he arrived. Just fear or lowly acceptance.
He went through the motions, trying to be grateful for his second chance. But he missed the stage. The performances. The cheers. But no one would ever accept him now. No one would want a demon to perform for them.
Really, he was shocked that it took this long for someone to apprehend him. He never thought he’d stand before the kings of Card Kingdom. Let alone in chains.
Not that the chains made a difference. Even before becoming a demon, lockpicking was trivial to him.
Still, he wanted to see where this was going.
“Little Imp, you’re charged with taking jewels belonging to the King of Diamonds!” The King of Spades stated, voice booming throughout the room. “Have you anything to say for yourself?”
The little man looked up at the four kings and grinned.
“George the First was always reckoned
Vile, but viler George the Second;
And what mortal ever heard
Any good of George the Third?
When from earth the Fourth descended
God be praised, the Georges ended.”
A weaselly melting blue man standing on one side of the kings roughly cleared his throat. It was very obvious he was trying to hold back a laugh. The kings looked at the poor soul, awaiting explanation.
“Ahem. Sires, ‘tis ‘The Four Georges’ written by Walter Savage Landor. He wast a famous poet, whomst wroteth in the Romanticism Era. The poem is abouteth four different kings namedth George. The people didst not liketh them.”
The imp let out a hysterical laugh at the kings’ dissatisfaction of his apparent final words.
A Rudinn Ranger swung a sword at the demon’s neck. Everyone in the room gasped when instead of a head rolling on the floor, the head sprung up on a spring that should be his neck. It launched upward with a comical BOING-OING! as the imp’s laughter rang louder and louder.
“Sorry, so sorry, my kings! This body cannot be killed! You’re not the first nor are you the last to try, try again!”
His head clicked back into place. He slowly managed to calm down to just giggles as he handed over the unlocked handcuffs to the other Rudinn Ranger beside him. The poor guy just accepted them while he stared in horror.
The demon slowly hovered up into the air and looked down at the kings.
“It’s merely self defence, defence! Now I have reason to take you all down, no reason to frown! May your own blood cause you to drown, drown!”
The kings looked up to see their own respective Suits flying down at them. Yet before they reached them, a magic barrier blocked the unforeseen attack.
The demon’s grin fell as anger took over his face. He turned around.
The moment they locked eyes, they both knew.
A purple plush cat held up an arm, marble eyes and mouth glowing bright orange with power. But the imp knew the moment he laid eyes on the plush.
His smile grew to a wicked grin, splitting his face in two.
“
Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away....”
He lowered himself back to the floor, tilting his head completely sideways.
“...I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course, of course you do. Every sleep, I’ve seen your face. You who struck me down from grace. You know exactly who you are to me, for you’re the one who took me from my place! After all, it’s hard to forget a kindred spirit, isn’t it?”
A Devilsknife came crashing down toward the Court Magician. Yet the plush cat was ready for it, stopping it with an enchanted dagger.
“I’m almost impressed. You nearly caught me off guard.”
Duckies and Horsies charged at the mage from behind, but the cat was still too quick. The attack was dodged, and the imp appeared on one of the ducks of the Carousel. Diamonds and Spades rained from top and bottom, while clubs and hearts charged from left and right. A barrage of attacks that the mage burned away.
“Cute, how cute. You delay the inevitable. You’re fighting a foe that cannot die! This body cannot be killed!”
“Yeah? Well, guess what? You can kill my body, but my soul will never die! I will just find a new vessel and come back!”
A Devilsknife spun through the mage’s protective flames. The Court Magician, actually caught off guard, barely had time to catch it by the blade between two open palms. The blade was so close to the mage’s face...!
The blade itself vanished, replaced by a lanky, clawed hand. A finger and a thumb came together and flicked the mage’s nose.
“Wh--Ow!”
A booming laugh filled the room. The mage and the demon stopped their little fight to look upon the Spade King. Both he and his belly were laughing hysterically.
“Wonderful! Hilarious! And impressive! Little demon, on behalf of my fellow kings, I’d like to make a deal with you!”
A familiar feeling washed upon the imp. He took his hand back and walked over to the large king, whose belly was still laughing.
“Go on, on?”
“A full pardon. On the charges of stealing Diamond’s treasure and the murder attempt! On one condition.”
The other kings murmured to themselves, unsure they like where this is going. But the little man stared at him, tilting his head slightly in curiosity.
“We’re in need of a Court Jester. The days have grown dreary with time. You have rhymes in your mind. You have rhythm in your voice. You’ve got tricks to trip up even our Court Magician. And a sense of humor to back it all up.”
The mage went to say something. To stop the Spade King from making a mistake. To stop him from hiring the man they had wanted dead so many years ago. Yet, the words were stuck in cotton upon looking at the man’s face. The way his body shook slightly. The way his face came to life. The way his eyes actually sparkled at the offer.
“I would...perform for the kingdom, kingdom? A whole stage set for me?! Oh! Oh, say that it’s true! After all the misery I’ve been through! My dreams, my dreams have once again become reality! I accept, accept your deal!”
The imp gave a deep bow to his kings.
“Good choice. Now, what is your name?”
His name?
The demon had long forgotten his name. Or perhaps he never had one.
“Most people just call me a devil. But as your new jester, you can call me...JEVIL!”