Welcome to the Madhouse! [The Raven]

Göerrung grabbed a tight hold of his brother. It was his first return to Berlin in over two years. His sister was travelling the world (which was just fine for Göerrung), and his mother was too old to make the trip to the airport. His father, meanwhile, had died not long before Göerrung left for America.

"It's been much to long, Niklas," Göerrung said.

"You say that like it's my fault, Göerr,"[/color] his brother replied, referring to Göerrung by his childhood nickname.

"Yes, well... How is everyone? How is mother keeping?"

"Same old, same old. She's minding Luca right now, we're gonna go to the circus in a couple of hours. Luca was really hoping you'd come, but it's up to y-..."

"Oh don't be stupid Niklas, of course I'll go. He's my nephew, I'm not gonna say no!" With that said, the two smiled for a moment, before heading to Niklas' car. It was a 2021 Porsche Farenheit, a rather young model of Porsche.

"Shit Niklas, what are you doing these days? A teacher's salary has only bought me a bike so far."

"Eh, y'know. Odd jobs here and there, on top of my career in banking." The two got into the car and Göerrung left his case in the back seats.

"How's that been going for you?"

"Pretty good, thanks." He started up the car, pulled out, and began the drive home. "I'm up for a managerial promotion in a few months."

"What about my nephew? How's Luca doing at school?"

"Great. He's top of his class, but uh... I dunno. I get the feeling he's being hassled by other kids. I haven't really spoken to him about it but he just... Never seems like himself when he comes home from school and for such a smart kid, he never wants to go." Göerrung frowned. Truth be told, he had no idea how to react to this situation. He had no parental instincts, and wasn't very good around people. Justice was his life, and so he couldn't give his brother any kind of useful advice.

An hour passed, and the two reached their destination - their childhood home. Luca came bursting out and grabbed Göerrung by the neck.

"Show me how strong you are, Gurry!" He said, clinging on to Göerrung's bicep. Göerrung lifted him with relative ease, pretending to struggle, before flipping Luca upside down and holding over his shoulder. Luca laughed hysterically.

Inside, Göerrung embraced his mother, before unpacking his cases. He had half an hour to pack, and then they were heading for the circus. Luca was ridiculously excited, and hindered Göerrung's progress significantly.

"Göerr, we're leaving in five minutes! Get your ass into this car!" His brother called jokingly.
Göerrung threw on a casual attire of jeans and a polo shirt, deciding not to wear the costume of his "Cloak" persona (though he did consider it). All the same, he snuck some smoke pellets into his pocket and his pistol into his trousers, covered by his shirt. He wasn't one for taking chances and today would be no different, even if his family was present.

The group made their way there, Niklas being the driver. It could be seen for miles; a spectacular fireworks display, massive lights of all colours beaming out of the building, traffic building up bumper to bumper. It was a truly amazing sight to see. The building had moss all over it, and staff dressed as zombies shuffled around outside handing out brochures. The inside was far more modest, but was well designed nonetheless. Cauldrons and bats and skeletons were scattered throughout the building, and blood splats were all over the walls.

The family took their seats. Luca pointed at a massive rubber spider that hung above him from the roof, clapping and swatting it with giddy delight. For the first time in too long, Göerrung allowed himself to simply sit back and relax. He even began to wonder why he brought any equipment with him.

Laszlo Szasz had been to Berlin four times in his life and each time had been for Halloween. The circus that his father and he supposed he belonged to would always host great little Halloween themed nights in Berlin, generally once every three or four years. His father claimed it was because if they didn't, the Grimm brothers would raise from their writers graves and take vengeful action on the troupe as a whole. And while none of the other adults, the Acrobats and the Ringmaster and the Clowns, believed a word he said, Theodore was able to thoroughly convince the children that Laszlo grew up with. Those children had grown up to inherit the circus. While some came and left, the new Ringmaster kept the tradition going strong; so every now and then an old abandoned building outside of the city was recolonised by the land owners and was decorated to the highest degree. Out back, black and orange tents were put up and the basement became a gauntlet of torture cells and burial grounds.

The performers had the upper floor to themselves. During the empty years it often got bats living in it, or wildlife, but they were shooed out and carpets were put down. Walls were erected with the spare tent sheets (the dancers got their own room, away from prying eyes) and lanterns were hung around on the walls. It was their own little slice of spook and the Illusionist loved it deeply, from a young age. When he was younger he would have worn a skeletal Raven mask, but he now had an image that he wanted to imprint on the public as a whole. And when he was younger he would have performed with his father, but now Theodore was in a grave and Laszlo had to do the routine on his own. He was nervous as he slipped on his dress trousers and shoes, before slipping on his jade shirt and crimson jacket with it's gold button's and cuff-links. Then came the cowl and cape, which were connected to each other and the shoulders of the jacket itself. He smiled in the mirror, his lips the only part of his face on show.

Then he finally pulled out the only real prop he would need for the entire show; two black gloves. He slipped them on while he watched the mirror, his own little routine before he was fully dressed. He looked like he was leaping from some fantastical tale from the Victorian Era, and that filled him with a small glow of pride as he made his way to his “door” and slipped down towards the largest room in the building; their makeshift theatre for performance. The show was in swing now, with a Frankenstein-esque Ringmaster introducing his vile clowns and vampire Acrobats, who defied gravity itself. The crowd laughed and cheered as the clowns seemed intent on murdering each other, with poisoned pies and rubber weapons. They oohed and gasped as the rather regal Acrobats danced around a large metal spider hanging above the crowd in the tall ceilinged room. An animal tamer brought out snakes and dancers moved gracefully around him. Then finally, the Ringmaster said softly, in a set of jade musical notes; “And now, the dark necromancy magiks of... The Raven.”

He walked onto stage simply, from the left wing. He moved to the centre of the room and bowed, clasping his hands in front of his necks as his legs remained rigid. When he stood up again, he opened his hands. On one of his palms, an eyeball had appeared. Raven blinked, as his fingers moved down to pick it up. It was apparently rubbery under touch, because he squeezed and winced as he did. Holding it slightly away from his face, Raven slide a finger under his mask and pulled it back, turning white under his mask as a long strand of blood connected finger tip to face. There were a few, orange startled gasps from the crowd. He shrugged, however. Laszlo slid his fingers up and tried to push it back into his head under his mask. He smiled when he opened his hands to the crowd, twiddling his fingers; and then his hand fell off.

It didn't land on the floor wetly, but instead swung from his wrist on tendons and rotting bones. There was a louder gasp now, as his fingers still twitched and jerked. He sighed, his cloak covered shoulders slumping as his hand moved to pinch his palm and the back of his hand. Laszlo turned his head and tried to look apologetic as he affixed it back in it's place, twisting it from side to side before moving it in 360 degrees. For a moment he let go, reaching towards his pockets, but it slipped out of place again and hung loose. He sighed dramatically as he pulled out a wand and pointed it at the misbehaving creature. There was a pause, before a sudden bright spark went off. The hand was fixed! He grinned and looked out at the crowd, before he said softly; ”Seems I keep falling apart.” There was a soft, nervous ripple of laughter before he said softly, ”Could I have a volunteer from the audience?”

Luca enjoyed the show. Everything about it was amazing to his young mind; the dancers, the decorations, the monstrous ringleader... It was all so alien to him, and he didn't think it could be more thrilling. That was when Raven came, performing his "necromancy". Luca didn't really know what necromancy was, but he decided at that moment that he would become a "necromancy man". As time went by, Luca only loved Raven more and more, spazming with laughter as he foolishly allowed his hand to fall off, failing to re-attach him. The crowd was also loving the show, it seemed. It was okay, Göerrung thought. He simply felt that they'd trained all of their lives for stunts like this; anyone could do something they've trained enough for... Like fighting crime, in Göerrung's case.

Niklas and Göerrung whispered to eachother, trying to work out the specifics of how the hand works. It was obviously robotic, since it moved the fingers while it was on the floor. But the way it dangled from Raven's wrist after being poorly re-attached was interesting... Göerrung, truth be told, was struggling to work out the details of how it worked. Not that he cared. of course. The strong and manly Göerrung Kunze would never care about such miniscule issues, not when there are more important things going on in the world. Instead, he began to ponder on the origin of the name and gimmick of this "Raven" character, it certainly was unique. His line of thought was broken however, when he felt Luca tapping his shoulder, shouting.

"Go up Gurry, go up!" He ordered, still laughing hysterically. Göerrung looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Go on, Göerrung!" Niklas agreed, chuckling. Göerrung looked up at Raven, grinning with embarrassment. He rose his hand a bit, half-heartedly, prompting Luca to grab and lift it all the way up.

"Pick him please, Mister Raven! Pick him!" Göerrung laughed, bringing his free hand up to his face in embarrassment. Yes, he was embarrassed. But he didn't really care, not in this situation, and certainly not around his family. He liked to think that he was a tough, cold-blooded professional, that justice was all he cared about... But deep down he was much more of a family man than he would care to admit, and this situation, if nothing else, proved that. He poked Luca in the hip, tickling and causing him to release his arm, but still Göerrung kept his hand up, volunteering himself.

"Now would be a good time to tell you that I hate the circus," Göerrung joked with Niklas, getting to his feet and walking towards the stage.

Alright then, Raven... What tricks do you have up your sleeve? He thought to himself as he neared the stage.

Laszlo couldn't help but grin rather foolishly as a small boy in the crowd tried to encourage one of his elders to take up Raven's offer. His hands went back behind his back on he rocked on his toes as there was a brief exchange between young man and younger man, with the crowd laughing here and there at the two of them. As the man finally rose he didn't whisper softly enough. The Raven's lips curled into a slightly more curt smile. Eyes glanced back to the performer, as Laszlo held out his left hand to suggest where his volunteer should stand. ”Now, I need you to check something for me.” He said softly, slipping the glove off and undoing his bright gold button. He slipped it back, showing the audience pale flesh that had deep scars running over it, some of them apparently very fresh, by the way maggots rolled over his skin. ”Would you just gave that a tug for me?” He held out the offending limb to Göerrung, as some of the people closer to them squirmed away in their seats. But he smiled gently.

When the man had given him a firm tug and the arm and forearm hadn't ripped messily from it's place, he glanced out to the crowd and was pleased that some of them now looked completely baffled from the fact that it wasn't a synthetic limb. When he finally moved his hand away from Göerrung's grip, he slipped the glove back on and brought his sleeves back down, taking meticulous effort to button it up. ”Now, your name Sir?” He said softly as he walked towards the wing of the stage; he didn't really need it but it was simply how things were done in the Circus. When he returned however, there was a cutlass in his hands. It was curved slightly and blunt on the end pointing towards the ceiling, with a sharp bright edge pointing straight down. Laszlo's hand adjusted against the guard, before he flipped it over in his grasp and held it out to his Volunteer. ”Do you know you're way around a sword?” He joked softly, before he took a step back and closed his hands behind his back again. ”Test it out, swing it... Make sure that it isn't spring loaded or something.”

As he did, Laszlo disappeared from the stage again. This time when he returned, he was pulling a small box that seemed to be glowing from within; a red light pushed out of the hinges upon the top of the box. In the front there was a thick deadbolt with an even thicker padlock, but it seemed to lock the hinges and stop the box from opening above. There were slots in the side of the box, from which the strange red light seemed to irradiate from. ”This trick! Unfortunately was the end of the circus previous Magician, two hundred years ago.” As Laszlo's fingers ran over the top of it, something inside suddenly gave a mighty jostle and rocked from side to side, which made him jump back, catching over his own legs. ”Oh... It seems that his spirit seems to still be a little angry.” He mumbled, much to the crowds amusement. With a shrug however, he turned back to his volunteer, even though it continued to rock back and forth as he spoke. ”This grisly trick is our Ringmaster's favourite, because the sword you hold was created by a rather mean spirited and power hungry Necromancer long, long ago. He wanted to be the sole inheritor of the dark magik and the desire sent him insane, so he hunted down anyone and everyone with real talent and killed them, claiming it for himself.”

He danced around the side of the box, standing on the other side as he leant on it slightly, the rattling inside intensifying. ”But even with all that power, he could not stop himself from rotting within as he got older and older, until he was simple a shambling creature of horror. After all that time, he had no heir or family, so he finally took on an apprentice and eventually gave him that sword.” His gloved hand raised and pointed at the blade as he smiled softly, looking over the audience. From a pocket he fished out a skeletal key, leaning down to unlock the thick old padlock, dropping it with a loud clack on the lid. He did not slide the dead bolt back however, continuing on with his little story. ”After so long, new Necromancers had become 'Ripe.' But they were wary, knowing that the previous generation were cut down by that infamous blade. So, the Apprentice had to be clever. He built this box and formed a circus of Zombie puppets. He travelled the world, before a rather young, dashing, handsome young man tricked him into his own box... Which is how I became the ghoul that I am.” There was another rippling laugh through the crowd as he smiled at the Volunteer, moving to slide open the deadbolt.

”Now, you may not know this, Sir, but I believe you have a little spark of Magik that I want.” He tried not to grin as he glanced out at the little boy that had been dying for the man to come up. He was rapt with wide eyes, watching the two of them. ”But not without making it interesting! If you can slide your blade into the box and I never climb out again, you inherit my spot in the Circus. If I survive..., I get a turn.” Without even pausing, he flung open the box, the padlock clattering to the floor and the deadbolt rattled on the lip. There was another disorientating flash of blight light and a blood curdling scream, as smoke billowed from within it. The Raven coughed from within the cloud, waving his hand from side to side. It faded out slightly after a short while. The light within had gone out and Laszlo had stepped into it, the lid opened towards the crowd. He began to slide down into it, before pausing and pulling out the skeletal key again, dropping it onto the stage. ”Choose any slot and try to take me by surprise. You are trying to kill me, after all.” There was a nervous laugh from the crowd as he slipped inside, cloak, hood, gloves and all. The top came down with a clatter, as Laszlo's volunteer was left alone on the stage before the crowd.

Spoiler:

The show was certainly getting more interesting, though that probably had a lot to do with the fact that Göerrung had volunteered himself as Raven's assistant. Or rather, that he had been volunteered by his nephew. It was a most impressive sight, standing on the stage and looking out over the crowd, surrounded by decorations and circus equipment. For a brief moment, Göerrung could appreciate the novelty of Raven's job. However, it was only for a moment, and then the "real" Göerrung stepped in, banishing such foolish thoughts. One could not teach the world a lesson from a circus stage! Without a purpose, why bother taking up a certain career? You'd be better off jobless, at least in Göerrung's eyes.

For his first trick, Raven had asked Göerrung to pull at his hand, which was covered in scars, some of which happened to be the apartments of maggots. It wasn't a nice view, but there was no way they were real... Such things carried diseases, surely the circus couldn't allow itself to be responsible for any sicknesses people caught. Could they?

Göerrung was impressed by the fact that the hand didn't simply fall off, as he had expected it to. This Raven character had a lot of tricks up his sleeve, but all the same... They were just tricks. Still, he was glad to see Luca enjoying himself so much. Then Raven asked Göerrung for his name, as he walked away, obviously preparing for the next trick.

"My uh... My name's Göerrung. Göerrung Kunze." Then he was asked whether he knew his way around a blade or not... Well, he was strong... And very agile... Plus he was very dextrous, and knew his way around a quarter-staff. "I've never tried but... I'm a fast learner."

"Not that fast, Göerrung!" Niklas called out jokingly. Göerrung shook his fist at his younger brother in retort, smiling, before taking the sword from Raven. He held it firmly, looking at it from all angles, before spinning and twirling the sword around in his right hand, holding it in an inverted position, its blade running up alongside his forearm. Göerrung looked down at his brother who had nothing more to say, grinning slyly. He then turned his attention to Raven again, who was climbing into the strange box he had presented. Göerrung considered what could happen for each slot... Ultimately, this box had to be gimmicked. He wouldn't be able to kill Raven, and so surely it didn't matter. Still, he decided to act fooled, and so he walked around the box to the opposite side, and forced the sword through the slot closest to Raven's chest, which would have pierced the trickster's heart under normal circumstances.

Göerrung knocked twice on the box.

"You alive in there?" He smiled when the crowd let out a small laugh, some people still in shock at the fact that Göerrung had, potentially, just killed the circus' main event.