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A Motley Circus

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Anti was ushered into a fancy-looking office. If it wasn’t for the tracked-in sawdust from the ring it could almost be the office of some city official.

A black- or maybe dark brown, he couldn’t tell in the light- haired man looked up from some papers.

The Irishman who had led him there gave a wave to the man, smiling like old friends.

“Heya Mark- I found him.”

The man’s- Mark’s- eyebrows rose. “You found…” There was silence. Then a palm to the face in resigned tiredness, as if he’d been brought people every day and was tired of it. “Who did you find, Jack?”

The man grinned and gestured to him. “I found your guy. Acrobatics, knife throwing- you name it.”

Mark leveled a look at him in curiosity. “Do you have a name?”

He nodded then pointed at his throat. He hoped that wouldn’t be a dealbreaker...

“You can’t talk?”

He shook his head, hands knotted together behind his back. That was it. The final straw-

A hand slid a piece of paper and a pen before his nose. He looked up, shocked. Not one employer had tried-

“You can write, yeah?”

He gave a hurried nod and scribbled down his name faster than he thought he ever had, sliding it back. Both men looked at it, then at him.

He started to sweat.

“Anti? Unusual name.” He just gave a sort of awkward shrug. Not like he had control over it.

More silence. This was more nerve-wracking that that one time he-

“Can you give us a demonstration?”

He gave a start. Of what? He reached a hand towards his trusty s atchel, then jumped as Jack banged a fist on the wall. A fist banged back. He repeated the motion, only with a different series of bangs. A minute or so later a tall, thin man in a blue vest came in holding a wrapped package. He opened it silently, and passed a- damn those had to cost more than he did- silver knife towards him, hilt first. Anti mouthed his thanks. The man looked confused, his eyebrows scrunched up, before pointing at his own throat. Anti nodded. The man seemed disproportionately happy for that news. Jack laughed and slung an arm over the tall man’s shoulders- they were about the same height- and raised a brow at Anti.

“Seems you two might end up becoming not-speaking buddies.” Anti looked at the man in a new light. He couldn’t talk either-?

Mark took a picture off of the wall to reveal a painted target, indentations from knives puckering the surface. They all stood back. “Go right ahead.”

Anti tested the weight of the knives. While he preferred his own… they weren’t too bad. He brought his hand back-

The knife landed in the center with a thud. Cue silence in the office.

Jack whistled. “ Daaaamn .” The man in blue clapped and Mark grabbed a few papers from his desk as Anti went to pull the knife out of the wall.

He suddenly had to juggle a series of papers as well as the throwing knife as Mark placed them in his hands.

“You want the job?”

His face broke into a big grin.

Hell yeah.