Chapter Text
Long nights and days, all spent on the investigation and observation of those people, if he could call them such thing, all to recover what was once his and only his, his spectacle, his show, his people. The star of the bizarre circus is going to be shining once more and over all.
-Monsieur, you’re still awake? It’s way past midnight by now.
Her voice, her lousy voice. An assault on his senses that made him every night wonder, why? Why does he tolerate her? Why does he keep her at his side? He could do this by himself. Since when does the star of Starr Park need an assistant? Maybe since the day he came back and saw her, owning the stage as if it were hers all along. That made him furious, but he’s not barbaric, not at all. Oh sweet Charlie, she’s like an open book. Deep inside she also craved the fame, craved the applause, and that was something he could use to his advantage.
-Charlie, darling. Speak if I err, yet I recall telling thee about not interrupting me while I am busy. What is the matter?
-It's him, the subject; it's making a chaos right outside our circus. This might be your chance to finally get it, to get his shadow.
Ah, this is just why I hold her at my side. She is useful, competent even. Lo, the very moment I have craved is at hand. To hunt the final fragment of my design. This park, these brawlers shall finally know who I am.
And so the duet went out; in no time the havoc and uproar made its presence felt before the Circus Duet. Shots, clashes, punches, and different other projectiles flew across the battle zone. And there he was, marvelous, just marvelous, like a red flame burning like the sun in the sky, lighting the darkest night. His eyes injected with blood, screaming like a rockstar and hitting the floor with the force of a beast. And he was perfect, just the perfect subject to turn into an unstoppable shadow clone. He just needs to position better, get closer, and get just right into position. Charlie is far from him, but she notices something he didn't; desperately, she tries to stop him, but he’s too absorbed in his muse, which is unnatural for his usual methodical and analytic self. He flew too close to the sun, and like Icarus, it was late once he noticed he was about to get burned. His eyes flew open when he saw him charging at his new prey. The moon was standing in a scenario that wasn’t his, not this night. He aimed his wand towards the beast that seemed to get closer and closer with no sign of stopping. Or that’s what it looked like at first.