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Chance, in the most ironic way, stood out amongst the circus performers like a sore thumb. She wasn’t a creature beyond human definition, she wasn’t a zodiac realm creation, she had no horns, no hooves, not even a scratch on her. She was a perfect porcelain doll amongst the decaying and deformed cast of characters surrounding her.
Oddfellow had made it a habit not to trust clowns. His distaste for them was never specified but rumors would always swirl amongst the performers who could still speak human languages. Some ranged from a simple accusation that the ringmaster simply had a phobia of the painted faces, others swore that years ago one tried to take down the circus with his own evil deeds. However, Rich would never say a word about it.
“What is a circus without clowns?” He’d say simply in response to anyone brave enough to ask about why he kept the act, despite his obvious hatred towards any greasepainted face.
Even an immortal ringmaster can’t hide his human side though. No matter how cold and calculated he had become over the decades there was always someone or something that could pull at the heartstrings of Oddfellow, even if it was brief. If the past rushes of emotions were only brief moments of a quick but fleeting grasp, Chance had an ironclad grip around his entire heart. He couldn’t help it really, afterall, he is still just a man. Her beauty, her grace while performing, her sharp tongue, they intrigued him.
Love was never part of the equation though, not romantically. Rich laughed at the very idea of the concept so many times it became an instinct to see it as a comedic device, rather than a real connection. He did, however, feel a sense of wanting to protect Chance. With every adoring glance and applause the audience gave her came an equal amount of prying eyes trying to strip her mentally. More often than he’d like he would have to punish one of his creations for attempting to cave into lustful ideas about his porcelain doll. While she was in no means fragile, Oddfellow would be damned before he let such a success fall through his fingers.
That is until, when her porcelain showed signs of chipping so severe he was shocked he never thought to seek out any cracks before. The night was like any other before it, the performers either seeking rest in their tents or lazily exploring the grounds. Oddfellow was making his own rounds silently counting each one of the performers to make sure they were all accounted for, as well as making mental notes of what tents needed patchwork or what popcorn machines weren’t stocked. That’s when he noticed her tent entrance propped open. As he walked past he was expecting to see the harlequin dancing, perhaps talking to another one of the female performers, anything he’d come to know her for. But the tent was empty.
Her bed stripped of the blanket she once nearly killed one of his zodiac creatures for stepping on with his muddy hoof. Clothing scattered randomly with a half packed suitcase abandoned without a second thought caught his eye next. Then, the foot steps leading out towards the train tracks. A lump caught in Rich’s throat, surely he hadn’t lost his star?
He moved briskly after the trail, trying his best not to raise any concern to the performers he passed with his clear sense of urgency. The only sense of relief he felt when he finally spotted her was quickly diminished the moment his hand tapped her shoulder.
SMACK
Oddfellow's left cheek burned like he had fallen into a fire pit. The shock from the sensation left him speechless for the first time since…well, that day doesn’t matter. Because surely this is not a repeat of that day. Chance probably just got upset with someone and thought they had come after her. Surely she’d-
“Get the hell away from me!” She hissed
“Pardon?..” He cleared his throat, once again sure he was mistaken.
“I’m out of this shithole! It may have been kinda fun when I first came here after runnin’ away, but I got bigger plans for myself and I’ll be damned before I stay any longer.” Chance’s words were cold and sharp. That edge he once found endearing was now aimed to take him down.
Oddfellow gripped the skull atop his cane for leverage, “Now Chance…Surely you could stay a bit longer? After all the train leaves in only two days my dear and doesn’t your audience deserve a proper farewell?”
“Nice try. We all know that train keeps us trapped by whatever crap you enchant it with, so long as it stays unmoving we have free will. I’ve always been a free birdie Oddy, I’ll be damned if I let you keep me caged.” Her eyes rolled, her patience growing thinner “Besides, you got plenty of clowns already. Or just summon a new one I dunno.”
Where did this come from? Just yesterday Oddfellow saw his once, almost, beloved doll laughing and discussing updating her routine for the next stop. Now she greets him with this? After all he had done for her? Had he decided all those years ago to turn away the clearly runaway girl who came to his show with nothing but an old, overstuffed, duffel bag, where would she be? Had he not always given her the spotlight she said she craved? Hell, he even dared to protect her from his creations because he had assumed they shared some mutual respect. Rich felt his blood fighting between boiling or going cold. Sure, this was no confession of murder, but he still allowed himself to be played by someone he dared to trust. Foolish, but he is only human despite his immortality. He’d have to work on that.
“Well, you know what they say about fine dolls such as yourself my dear..” He said in a low tone, “You just aren’t replaceable.”
Before she could raise an eyebrow, Oddfellow pressed the skull of his cane firmly against her forehead. The green light it omitted began to shine from behind her eyes and out her mouth. Then, very slowly, it began. Chance’s skin began to slowly peel and roll away from her body. She let out a scream that just as quickly died in her throat as it had left it. Her vocal chords, her vital organs, everything human except for her hair and eyes began to vanish. Oddfellow kept a firm grip on her as the agonizing process continued for over an hour, her skin finally blowing away into the wind as dust only after rolling off her fingers one by one. There, in his arms, was how he truly saw her. A perfect, unchipped, porcelain doll.
Her green eyes almost looked a shade brighter compared to her now snow white complexion, her dark hair looking like a void in direct contrast. Without effort, Rich picked up the living doll and returned her to the fairgrounds before laying her down atop her previously abandoned bed. Her eyelids swung shut over her still frantically moving eyes, just as a dolls’ would. He half considered simply leaving her exactly like this, but that grip she once had on him still lingered enough for him to retrieve her favorite blanket from her bag and lay it atop her. As if it would still provide her the warmth it did before.
The punishment did not end there. Each night after her attempt at fleeing, he’d bring her to the show where, for a brief 5 minutes, she became a real human again. That first performance you could see the shock and relief in her eyes, her plan to escape once more very visible. It only added to Rich’s delight to watch it drain once more in horror the moment she left the tent and the process his cane had put her through began again. Now, she couldn’t leave. Now, another clown couldn’t make a fool out of him.
The other performers looked on in an unspoken pity each night, the disfigured and half-animal especially having silently sympathies for their newest addition to the experiments. For another year or so things began to have order again. Until that fateful night in 2007 where Oddfellow’s past came back to haunt him. He hadn’t witnessed the carnage that was left due to him being his old foe’s first target, but after he awakened it was impossible to overlook the aftermath.
His beloved show now an abandoned graveyard, his jacket and cane gone, decades of work ripped from his clutches. Worst of all is when he once again checked the tents and realized his beloved doll had finally gotten her wish of escaping. What he wouldn’t find out til much later however, is just how much she would grow to become just as, if not more wicked than him and his foe. But that is a tale for another day…