Genre: General. Angst, too, I suppose.

Characters: Danny and Freakshow.

Author's Notes: This doesn't happen in "Steam Machine," for the record. I'm just setting it in the same universe. So, really, it's an AU of my AU. Does that even make any sense? o.0?

I blame the "Herr Drosselmeyer's Doll" bit on Abney Park. That's a great song.

Oh! Once again, it's the attack of the Victorian ads. I actually started this a while ago, after posting the third chapter of "Steam Machine." So, yeah. I was on a kick.

For the record, I'm somewhat disappointed in the lack of fictions involving Freakshow. Freakshow is cool.

46. Runaway
"Steam Machine" Verse

"FREAKS! ODDITIES! ACTS WHICH DEFY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS!
SEE HERR DROSSELMEYER'S CLOCKWORK DOLL BROUGHT TO LIFE BEFORE YOUR EYES! WATCH LYDIA, THE INVINCIBLE WOMAN, SURVIVE THE IRON MAIDEN! WATCH THE CONTORTIONIST TWIST INTO UNNATURAL POSITIONS! COME SEE THE WORLD'S STRONGEST MAN! OBSERVE THE MASTER OF DEATH, THE GRIM REAPER HIMSELF, DEFY GRAVITY ON THE HIGH-WIRE! AN ARRAY OF STRANGE ACTS TO SATISFY YOUR MORBID CURIOSITIY!
COME TO CIRCUS GOTHICA!"

Danny laid on the mildly deteriorating, wooden floor of the train. In his hand, he read the old flyer, making a mental checklist of each act listed.

The Drosselmeyer's Doll act? Overshadowing.

Torture? Intangibility.

Contortionism? Ha! Easy. . . for a ghost, anyway.

The world's strongest man? Ghosts couldn't strain under weight.

The Grim Reaper? What's gravity to a ghost?

Danny, or the "Master of Death," could walk along a rope that was approximately one-third of an inch thick and about sixty feet above the circus floor. He could do a hand-stand on a real, razor-sharp scythe that was precariously perched on the previously-mentioned wire. He didn't tremble, didn't flinch, and didn't even bat an eye – even if the scythe's blade sliced his hands a bit. A genuine scythe impressed the audience, especially when he proved to them that it was, in fact, very real and very deadly. (He did this after his act by lacerating the tight-rope with a single, clean swipe.)

Danny decided that joining the circus was one of the best decisions he'd ever made. He liked performing. He liked using his "talents" for something completely harmless. The shocked gasps of the audience members amused him a little. On occasion, some ladies would faint, which caused him to worry instead of smirk. That was one out of three aspects of his job that he didn't like.

The second was the fact that he hardly slept at all. He couldn't really nap during the day, and his nights were restless. . . At least, he assumed that they were, for the third thing he didn't like about the circus was that he couldn't remember a single night since he'd arrived there.

The last night he recalled was the night he ran away from home. His parents caught him in the act of levitating above the bed as he slept, which led them to believe that he was overshadowed (which is a nice way of saying "possessed"). He argued with them, nervously babbling out that, no, he wasn't possessed, and that he was actually half-ghost, courtesy of the Fenton Portal.

Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea, but at three in the morning, it was the only one he had.

Danny didn't stick around for their reactions. He was too terrified of being at the receiving end of an ectoplasmically-charged weapon. Instead, he backed into a wall, and then he backed through it, praying that his still-uncontrollable powers wouldn't fail him. As he fell, he only thought of flying away as fast as he could. . . and of not splattering on the ground below.

Too late, he thought, realizing that the ground was approaching faster than he anticipated. He squeezed his eyes shut, ready for every bone in his body to splinter. Strangely enough, he didn't feel any pain upon impact. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, only to find that he had phased into the ground.

Being a freak without anywhere to go, Danny decided that joining the circus was his best option. He'd seen the flyers for Circus Gothica; they were hard to miss, printed in garish colouring. In spite of the ironic colouring of the flyers, the show itself had an arcane feel about it. Even the gaiety of the ads seemed somehow sinister.

Circus Gothica publicized its oddities, and Danny was just that. One of the oddities. People paid good money to see out-of-the-ordinary acts. They wanted to be repulsed and awestruck at once. The owner of the circus – aptly nicknamed "Freakshow" – made sure that his performers were ready to demonstrate how bizarre they really were before and after the main shows. Freakshow not only served as the ringmaster of the circus, but also as a sideshow barker.

When Danny came along, Freakshow was delighted. Danny was a genuine half-ghost freak, one-of-a-kind and somewhat alive! Not even the famous P.T. Barnum had such a claim. In the competitive field of show business, the most unique took in the most money. And, without a doubt, Circus Gothica was the most unique.

While Freakshow raked in money, Danny was provided with somewhere to live. The train wasn't very clean and never stayed in one place for more than two weeks, but the ghost boy didn't mind much. He found somewhere where he fit in – especially since all of his fellow performers were ghosts. They didn't speak to him much (if they spoke to him at all), but Danny still felt a vague feeling of camaraderie.

As the train screeched to a halt, Danny sat up. They were at their next stop. He would have to help set up the tent and stands soon, as usual. Tickets would be sold at the door for the next two weeks, and every night, it would be show time. Every night, he'd walk the high-wire, scythe in hand, and would exhibit his peculiar state to the public. Every night, he'd hear gasps and jeers and laughter and applause. And every night, he would enter the train after a night of performing, only to forget everything that occurred after he stepped through the locomotive's threshold.

This, Danny thought, is what freaky kids do when they run away and join the circus.