“We’re more carny than most”

(previous entry here)


“Remember what I told you during your first interview with me?”

“We’re about to die and you’re asking me that?! What the hell.”

“No, seriously. You remember what I told you?”


“We’re more carny than most. Now do what I’m going to tell you quick.”


A month back:

“Let’s start with the obvious: after what,  three months of being a crime-fighter and countless requests for an exclusive interview what made you accept mine?”

It’s because I’ve loved you ever since we became classmates in college and participated in that months-long psych study together among others. “Because you’re a rare bird. We don’t see many psychology majors in TV and I think you’re qualified to put the proper spin on my story.”

“So it’s all about spin? That’s it?”

“Not really. Your being pretty did sway my decision to your favor a little bit.”

“Just a little?”

“…okay, maybe more than a little.”

Her laugh then made all his effort for this interview worth it.


“Cheesy question time. What drives you to do these things?”

“I think there’s no non-cliche answer to that one. We all have issues, we all have beliefs. I just decided to act on mine in a way that seems to work for everyone. Well, not for the ones I send to jail that is. What those are, I leave to you. You know enough to make a decent profile now yes?”

“Fair enough. Isn’t it scary? I mean, rappelling down buildings, facing druggies and other hoods with nothing more than a suit, brass knuckles, Mace, Tasers and Asp batons is no small thing.”

“You forgot the no small amount of controlled insanity. Let’s put it this way: you know carnies and the mythos about them right?”

“Carnival operators who among others supposedly rig the games. What about carnies?”

“Humans and the world are both carnies and marks at the same time. We play our luck against the world’s games all the time and the world comes around to play when we least expect it and crushes our dreams. When it’s my turn to play carny I make sure I’m more carny than most. I stack the odds in my favor as much as I can.

Say I’m taking down druggies. I stake out the place first, determine exit routes, dark places where I can hide, nooks where I can stash extra weapons. I make sure I have backup plans and backups for those. Let’s face it, we vigilantes, crime-fighters, superheroes, call us what you want but in the end we’re just humans. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do what we can to make sure we win this round.”

“Interesting. And now I have my tagline for this interview. Thank you for the time.”

“And thank YOU for…”


“You have no idea. Anyway. I’ll see you out.”


Five minutes before:

“Good god what the fuck was that- oh. Why hello there, oh evil drug lord and mafia don whose operations I’ve fucked up these last few months. Pardon me while I kowtow and quake in my boots from fear. Not.”

“That mouth of yours is something else, isn’t it?”

“Well, you sure did not waste time ‘fixing’ it for me with a couple dozen of fists.”

“You know what they say, glad to be of service.”

“I guess I should feel honored to have been served by you, of all people. Rather talkative today, are we. Are you sure you’ll only tie me up, no other ‘services’ to be rendered? I never thought I’d scare you guys so much that you’d need ten goons to kill poor little-tied-up me.”

“I figured your suit won’t matter much if I shoot you in the face. And it’s more of you managed to wake up fifteen minutes after we got the drop on you. It was barely enough time for us to get to this wonderful building. See, it’s the perfect last stand for someone like you: trapped in the corner of an abandoned stereotypical warehouse with rain-spattered windows and skylights up high, no way to go and no hope in sight.”

“Glad to have impressed you then. Wait. I thought superheroes like me go down in a blaze of glory?”

“Who said about you being a superhero TO ME? You’re nothing more than a rat, a pest. We offered you the proper cheese and bam, we got you.”

“… what cheese?”

“Heard that car screeching to a stop and the slamming door? You’ll see soon enough.”


“Boss, this dame sure has spunk in her.”

“Finally. Tie Miss-trying-hard-to-be-Lois-Lane up and toss her beside Mr. Superman here. You, get the camera on the tripod. Let’s get things started. It’s past my bedtime damn it.”

“… Oh boy. Hello there. I must admit Miss-trying-hard-to-be-Lois-Lane has a nice ring to it.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for this to happen…”



“Now do what I’m going to tell you quick.”

“Hey, break it up you love birds will ya?”

“And I thought mafia dons were supposed to be romantics. Won’t you let this rat be a gentleman for the last time?”

“Pfft. Fine. Stand there, both of you. In the corner. Good. Smile for the camera. Any last words?”

“Okay, listen: get behind me. Stay sideways so you’ll have a narrower profile. Press one ear on my back, snuggle the other ear on your shoulder. You can do it, trust me. Heck, you HAVE to.”

“Fellas, take aim. Jeez kid. I said, any last words?”

“Close your eyes tightly and whatever happens, don’t move.”

“… I’m scared.”

“Just remember what I told you okay? It’ll be fine.”

“Good lord what a sap. On my signal boys.”

A cacophony of metallic clacks echoed in the empty warehouse as bullets were chambered. The buckles on the guns’ slings made an almost-unheard tinkling sound as everyone brought them to bear, making the flash suppressors seem larger than they really are to the ones pinned in the corner. The mafia don brought up his forearm then brought it down in a dismissive wave.

Booming thunder and a blinding light suddenly tore the air asunder and assaulted everyone’s senses.


(A/N: Yay a week late. Despite me ‘cheating’ by not thinking up of something entirely new. I hope this makes sense. I tried to see if I can do away with the usual indications and descriptions on who’s saying what and what’s happening where by just using dialogue. I’m not quite sure how it will come across to you guys… just imagine it I suppose)

This entry was posted in fantasythings, Serials (Works in Progress), Themes. Bookmark the permalink.

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