Cirque Berserk
.
.
.
4
Agitation
.
.
When Tucker made it towards the edge of Amity Park, he immediately saw the giant circus tent ahead. It wasn't colorful like the usual circus tent was: this one was a black with neon green trimmings. The tip-top of the tent held a black, shredded flag with a rather diabolical clown outline stitched on.
The closer he got, the more developments he saw. He saw many people dressed in pure black or other dark colours walking around carrying boxes and boxes full of decorations. He saw some of them spray can strange insignias on the ticketing booth as well. There were some of the performers practicing their flexibility on the soft dirt near several smaller tents. His jaw went slack when one very pale woman dressed in very skimpy, leather clothing lifted both of her legs up and locked her ankles behind her neck, lifting her arms above her head and twining them together.
He parked nearby but walked the rest of the way, silently admiring the way everything seemed very organized. Everyone carried out a duty and completed it, no questions asked. Once finished with said job, Tucker noticed, they would report back inside the main tent and come back out to head towards a different part of the area to complete another task.
Other, smaller, tents were scattered behind the gigantic main attraction.
He guessed that was where all the staff retired to after a long days work.
"Tucker?"
He paused and turned, his eyes widening. He stared for a long time; he felt his mouth drop open in total shock. Danny stood directly behind him, holding a clipboard in his black leather gloves that reached his elbow. One was fingerless the other wasn't, making it rather unique. His nails were painted black. His hair was stark white, his eyes bright green, enhancing his supernatural appeal. He had on a drag leather trench coat adorned with several hooks, buckles and crosses. Most surprising, the halfa's lip was pierced and his eyes were outlined black.
He seemed tired and rather sleep deprived as well; if the bruise-coloured bags under his eyes said anything.
Somehow, though, that only made him look even more vile.
"...You got any tattoo's you wanna show me, too?" Tucker said dryly, walking towards him and enveloping him with brotherly compassion. "Welcome back, Danny."
"Wow, Tuck," Danny chuckled, once they separated. He took a good look at him and cracked a smile. "You look the same."
He looked affronted. "I do not!" he raised and arm and flexed. "See? Muscles!"
Danny barked out a harsh laugh. Tucker's smile waned a bit. "Well, almost the same."
"Damn," Tucker grinned. "Sam's gonna freak out when she sees you now."
Almost self-consciously, he glanced down at his attire. "Er, you really think so?"
"Same old Danny." Tucker shook his head, knowing fairly well Sam would probably inwardly glomp him. He was dressed like her—Goth. Danny Fenton had gone Gothic. What would Dash say now?
Probably call him a dork, he frowned. Or a freak. His frown deepened. Or both.
"Right, so, the tickets. Come with me so I could give them to you," he smiled, gesturing him to follow his lead. Tucker noticed the heavy looking combat boots he wore.
"Don't those things bother you?" he questioned curiously. He would never his life wear those dreadful things; they looked terribly weighty. He liked being comfortable (thank you very much).
Danny shrugged as they both ducked over the black curtain that served as a door. Most of the inside was pitch black. "You get used to them."
"Sure you do," he murmured back, eying the boots critically. "Sam ditched her old boots."
Danny sent him a sharp, knowing, glance. "Did she?"
"Yup. She got these new ones—they go all the way up her leg and man if I thought the last ones looked heavy I was dead wrong," he shook his head, adjusting his beret some as they entered a dim hall. "So, where are we going?"
"My room," he answered, pointing to the lone door all the way towards the end. "It's where your tickets are at."
"Jeez, would it kill your night creatures to add some more lighting in here?" Tucker scowled, squinting to try and make out some of the odd shapes he was looking at. "I can hardly see where I'm going!"
"You don't know the irony of that statement," Danny grinned back crookedly.
"Yeah, well, living with Samantha Manson, Princess of All Things Dark, Creepy and Overall Disturbing, you get tired of seeing so much black after the initial four hours." he replied blandly, thinking back to her pitch black ceiling, her obsidian furniture and her stark black clothing.
"And you have been with her for how long exactly?" Danny decided to ask, already anticipating the answer. It seemed that with his absence, their friendship seemingly grew tighter, more compact... deeper. He wondered if he would ever be able to fit in with them again.
Don't be stupid, he chastised himself, Of course I'll be welcomed back. His thoughts drifted towards Sam for a moment. If she decides to listen to what I have to tell her.... oh, man.
"Almost everyday before school, dude—Val's orders." he sighed heavily. "And now you've gone bad, too. Man, I'm gonna be seein' black all my life, huh? What happened to the primary colours? You know - red, blue, white; too bright for you creatures of the dark?"
Danny's laugh had softened as he grew comfortable with his old best friend. "You can say that I got tired of wearing the old t-shirt and jeans. After I managed to lock Freakshow away in prison for theft among other crimes, I had no idea what do with the circus. It still had about five more shows left before they could officially take a break, or close down. So I decided to try and get those shows over with since I felt responsible and I guess..." he smiled wryly, "I guess I kinda liked running a Satanic circus. It grows on you."
"I'm sure it does," Tuck said sarcastically. "Who doesn't like waking up to a fresh batch of mutilated bodies? Mmhm, nothing like good 'ol violence to start off the new day!" he threw his hands up in the air in faux enthusiasm. "Yay... bring out the two-headed dragon."
"Calm down, there's nothing relatively evil going around here," Danny reassured somewhat awkwardly. "Unless you count the ghosts."
"You mean all these people here are ghosts?!" He looked around him immediately, wishing he'd brought some form of protection. During the Ghost Raids, as the people in Amity Park decided to call them, he would usually be the number one target; being Danny Phantoms best friend and all. He usually had to walk outside with Sam and Valerie at his side with huge, specially-designed, ghost busting guns that looked like they could tear off a human head but in reality were relatively harmless to mortals.
If used properly.
Tucker didn't want to recall all the times he had misused one of the newly-improved ecto-guns... they usually included someone getting hurt, frightened, or confused. And most of the time it was him getting hurt.
"Not all," Danny said defensively, opening the door and leading Tucker inside. His room was darker than the hall was. He clicked on the light. Tucker was surprised to see it looked rather normal. No floating skulls, weird paintings or devil crosses anywhere. "Some are actual human employee's I hired sometime ago. They know about the ghosts and frankly don't care." Danny shrugged off his coat and threw it on his satin blue bedspread. "Better for me, anyways."
Tucker examined the jumpsuit he hadn't seen in years. It still looked the same—if not a bit tight on him. Alright, too tight on him. He could see every curve and dip his body had and that quite disturbed him.
Danny caught him staring and grinned roguishly. "Finally come out of the closet, Tuck?"
He didn't freak out like he normally did; mostly because he was thinking about bringing a camera to snap a picture of Sam's face when she saw Danny. "Hmm, not really. I'm actually feeling really, really perturbed by the way the suit looks like it's gonna rip at any given moment. Can't you change out of it or something?"
"Nope," Danny sighed, trying to grope his suit with his fingers. "It's like my second skin now. It's a good thing dad's jumpsuits were one size fits all or I else I'd be in really big trouble." He fell back into his chair, lazily reaching across his desk and grabbing a white envelope. He tossed it at Tucker. "There you go. Four three-day tickets to my show. Valid for any one of my shows while we're here."
"Your show?" Tucker smirked slyly, fingering the package. "Don't you mean Freakshow's show?"
"Nope," he grinned back. "My show. I officially own Circus Gothica. And as the owner, I'm pretty rich right now. You wouldn't believe how many people show up just to watch a three hour show. We mostly sell out in three, four days tops."
Tucker whistled lowly. "How many people can this baby seat?" he jabbed a thumb to the right, indicating the stage just a few paces out.
"About three hundred?" he smiled nervously, scratching his snowy white hair back. "Er, one thing that hasn't changed about me: I still can't do mental math."
Tucker laughed. "And you think I can?" He whipped out his wrist and winked, turning it to reveal an ordinary-looking watch. He pressed the side button and a mini-calculator popped right out, designed to calculate very high numbers.
Danny did not look surprised. He just laughed. "Cheater."
"Work smarter, not harder, pal." He popped the device back in and glanced around the room, then at the clock ahead. Twelve in the afternoon. The girls were probably having lunch, he guessed.
"So, how's life?" Tucker started casually enough, then wiggled his brows suggestively. "Any girlfriends I should know about?"
Danny's pale cheeks went red and he shook his head, sighing a laugh. "No... I tried once though."
Tucker wasn't very surprised. After all, he was still a man. But he couldn't help to think that perhaps this was one talk he would not tell Sam. An angry Sam was not always a very good Sam. "How did it go?"
"Horrible," he grimaced. "I couldn't even like her as a friend. She was everything I hated. Too happy, too bright, too girly... I met her during one of my shows. I asked her to come to the stage and help me demonstrate a special trick. She kept coming to my shows after that and then she asked me out."
"She asked you out?" Tucker echoed incredulously. "What about you?"
Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I sorta thought she was pretty but it never really went beyond that. I decided to try it since... well, you know." he glanced away, his cheeks growing redder. "But I never tried to make it work, now that I think about it. I didn't even like her. I was just trying to forget Sam—crap." He gave Tucker a long, hesitant stare.
The African American man grinned widely. "Danny and Sam sitting on a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N—OUCH!" He rubbed his arm feverishly, casting a severe glare at Danny, who was sitting in his chair like nothing, looking idly towards the ceiling.
"I saw that."
"You did not."
"New power?"
"Kinda."
"Show off."
"Oh, grow up." Danny smirked. It quickly became a grin when Tucker stood up and pounded his fist to his chest.
"I did!" he lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes glinting behind his spectacles. "I grew up so much I finally know what Valerie hides underneath her shirt!" He rose his brows suggestively.
Danny's emerald eyes widened. "No way."
"Way, man, way."
"You and Valerie?"
"Yep," he sat back down on the bed, stretching his legs out. "It happened in Sophomore year—we began flirting a lot. Yes, Danny, I finally got the hand of flirting," he ignored the snow haired ghosts snort, "and by Junior year I guess I mustered up enough guts to ask her now. Now it's been about three years and so far, so good, brother!" he beamed.
"Well, that's great, Tuck." Danny said sincerely. "I'm really glad you finally managed to get a girlfriend after all those failures."
"Hey, if I am not mistaken, you were never very popular with the ladies either!" Tucker protested.
"Not anymore." Danny winked. "Apparently I get eyed like meat every time I step onto that platform."
Tucker then made the mistake of saying: "Pfft, if Sam was there she'd eye you like a piece of ripen fruit or something. I mean, before, when we were fourteen, she always used to gush about how cute you were. Jesus, she really was a girl underneath all that black!" he snickered at his own joke before freezing and snapping his head up at Danny who looked honestly shocked.
He forgot: Danny was no Valerie and that meant that the small, inoffensive, jokes about Sam and Danny's relationship were not handled as well when one of the aforementioned Goths was in the room. And you happened to say one of the jokes in front of them.
They tended to look at you with disbelief, shock and some irritation – much like how Danny was staring at him.
Note to self: don't tell Sam about this either, he thought nervously.
"I-I mean," Tucker blurted, racking his mind for a excuse. "I didn't mean that! Er, she doesn't like you at all! Yeah, thats right—no wait she does! She does, but not like that you know? Just like - a best friend! No, wait, er, uh, aw, crap." He winced and dropped his head into his hands, ignoring Danny for a second. "Man, Sam's going to skin me alive..." He shuddered at the mental image.
"She... liked me when we were younger?" the halfa asked quietly.
Well, might as well. Thought Tucker, still worried. I mean, Sam's still not over him and from what I can see, neither is he. "Y-Yeah. Why do you think we called you Clueless?" he smiled wryly. "Sam used to go green with jealousy when you were all over Paulina. That was probably the only reason she hated Val, too," Tucker added for good measure. "You two dated for like a week, right?"
Danny nodded, seemingly lost in thought. He looked guilty too. "Yeah but..." he scratched the back of his head in a very Danny-like way. "I-I never knew she felt that way about me. I mean, if I had known that before I would have never—"
"What happened, happened, alright, man?" Tucker interrupted, quite relieved. Danny wasn't so different after all. Sure, his style had changed drastically but it was only for the show he hosted. Sure, his features has matured and he had acquired new and deadly powers to add to his already dangerous arsenal. But one thing that hadn't changed was his compassionate nature. He would always be a kind, innocent kid inside. Even if the lip piercing stated otherwise. "'Sides, I bet she's glad it happened. It probably helped strengthen her feelings or something like that." He wasn't good with the whole 'girl feelings' thing.
He handled enough abuse from his current girlfriend during her monthly cycle which he never mentioned in fear that she would think he was some closet pervert for mentioning a very natural occurrence.
Moody girls were unpredictable that way.
"Probably," Danny muttered distractedly. "Or maybe she just hates my guts for what I did to her five years ago." The ghost boy sighed frustratingly and sunk even deeper in his chair. "I doubt she'll even want to listen to me. It's been five years and I've been free for at least two. How am I going to explain that I didn't have enough guts to call her up or visit?"
"Well, you were managing a circus. I believe that does take time to plan out and what not so you can use that as an excuse. And you can also come clean with her and tell her the whole truth instead of lying and making the situation worse. You could even tell her the whole 'I'm-a-wussy' part you were whining about just now." Tucker grinned. Then, a sheet of paper was crumpled, levitated off Danny's desk, and hit him dead on his head.
"New power?" he said hopefully, eying the crumpled piece of paper that straightened itself and returned to it's previous location. He rubbed his forehead.
"Yep," Danny said cheerfully. "You'd be surprised at how many new powers I managed to obtain."
"Eh, no offense, buddy, but don't do that." he said bluntly, still eying the sheet of paper. "You look scary and the eyeliner and piercings aren't making this any better."
"Note taken."
She had had a horrible day. No, she was having a horrible day. As she walked to her car, Star and Valerie beside her, she could only think about the piercing, glowing eyes of her childhood infatuation. It made her skin crawl with rage when she saw how absolutely calm and mesmerizing he looked.
He looked unaffected and completely in charge.
Did he really take their friendship so lightly?
Why did he have to look so sure of himself, so... indifferent.
I guess I can be sure he never even liked me, she thought darkly, tuning out Star's cries of glee and Valerie's laugh, as she stuck the keys into the door and threw it open with a harsh shove.
"Hey, you guys?" Sam interrupted politely, trying not to let any of the fury she felt penetrate her voice. "I'll catch up with you two later – I have some major homework to do. All the prof's got some beef with me because the load is just too cruel."
Valerie snickered, though there was a sympathetic spark in her eyes while Star "aww"'d loudly and stomped her foot.
"But, like, I want to see your apartment!" she whined, "You promised! I thought Manson's didn't break promises," she added cunningly, eying Sam critically.
"We don't," she said, forcing a smile and killing the urge to look behind her and flip off the poster of her teenage crush. "But we do postpone them until further notice."
"Sam—"
"Oh, come on, Star," Valerie tugged her away, not meeting Sam's eyes. "We'll talk to you soon, Sam."
She smiled gratefully at the African American woman but the uncomfortable look on her face didn't settle well with her. She gripped her messenger bag to her body as Star and Valerie walked to their own car, Star loudly complaining how life was being terribly cruel to her.
The instant they hopped into their car, backed up and sent her some farewell smiles and waves before leaving, Sam turned sharply to the poster of Danny Phantom.
She gripped the roof of her car and allowed her darkening violent eyes to bore into the man's vibrant emerald.
She lifted her lip into a sneer and spat: "We don't need you here either." She narrowed her eyes at his unwavering green, the edge of the poster peeling with the wind. "We never needed you here." She shoved herself into the car and quickly left the parking lot, knowing how much of a lie that was.