Hm. 'S funny. Thought he fell asleep on the horn pile is all. Not in the motherfucking Freak Show. But there's fucking posters every which way and he certainly didn't take them home with him, so he must be back on the Land of Tents and Mirth.

Fucking miracles.

He walks past the ticket booth. Rickety old thing. Everything is faded and worn, like it had been left out in the rain too long for a dozen sweeps on end. There are huge posters. The Bearded Lady. The Hornless Boy. Like hell. Nothing in the circus but imps and liches, but they're cool. Do a brother a few favours if you ask real nice. So when his best bro asked him to kill his Denizen and get the hell to the gate, he just asked and they pointed him to the dark corner at the back of the tents. The one the Consorts had been babbling about for weeks before the Underlings finally killed them all. Fuck. That felt like months ago. Wasn't that fucking months ago?

He pushes through the turnstile and the bar breaks off as he tries to push through. He tries to lighten the mood with a little whistling, but he doesn't have to keep it up long, because the inside of the tent is all bendy mirrors and paint! Motherfucking paint all up and down the walls! Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, and twelve mirrors all set up with distorted stick figures in 'em! Fucker's an artist, even if it looks like he's been working with a brush the size of a Troll's arm. The tenth one looks a little wonky, though. Got a nice indigo drawing on it, for sure, with a splotch of white all over the face, but the glass is all smashed on the right side, the stick figure's left. The whole frame's in a pile of glass ankle-high with a bunch of discarded frames behind it. Guess the artist was having trouble with that one, huh? And he laughs about it.

He walks into the next room and there's another one of those old player pianos, playing Entrance of the Gladiators non-stop like every other one in this fucking planet. Just like he likes, except all tinny and shit, and it skips one of the notes like it doesn't work or something. There's a fortune telling machine on the right with its eyes flashing, and some meat-flavoured gum. That's nasty, but they're just there to entertain the lineup while they wait for the Freak Show to let them in. There's this featherbeast behind a glass case on one side. It's got this chalk board beside it with basic math all written up on it. "SMARTEST DUCK IN THE WORLD" it says. Haha, rock on. There's this metal plate underneath the featherbeast. Every once and a while the plate buzzes like electricity's shooting through it but the featherbeast doesn't do shit because fuck, they've been here a month and there ain't nobody running this show. Everything that did show up is an Imp and they don't get a fucking crap. The dead bird just lays there, little white crawling things poking out from under the feathers. Fucking miracles.

"Hey there little grub-fuckers!" He pokes the glass. "Gonna grow up to be big-ass fucking buzzbugs when you grow up just like your moms and dads, am I right?"

"wrong."
"YOU'RE SO FUCKING WRONG, BITCHTITS!"

There's also a giant monster floating above the stage at the back of the room. Didn't really seem all that interesting, what with all the miracles already close at hand.

"just gonna get squished."
"GONNA DIE LIKE EVERYONE FUCKING ELSE"
"because what does it know?"
"DON'T KNOW FUCKING SHIT!"
"gonna grow up to be a big fucking fly but in the end he don't get it"
"SHE DOESN'T FUCKING GET THAT IT'S TOO LATE"
"should have never grown up in the first place"
"COULD HAVE STAYED WHERE IT WAS WARM, MOTHERFUCKER"
"too late."
"tOo GoDdAmN fUcKiNg LaTe!"

Capricorn hangs suspended in the air above the massive Freak Show stage, reaching to the very heights of the tallest tent. It holds up one crooked, mangled leg against the light fixtures, supporting a massive goat's upper body into the air. Another upper body lies at its side, crashed into the stage in a pile of splinters and rubble. The fallen goat body looks all but dead, forelegs slumped in front of it, unmoving in the sand. All it has is bright, indigo eyes and a shouting and hideous voice to show that it is still alive. The two mammalian bodies had once joined at their hips, like conjoined twins, but had been split down the middle only part-way. They had met at a single, which still hovers in the air wrapped about the split wound, and cradles a set of shared, spilled innards in its snake-grasp. The room stinks of meat and fish. The smell stirs in the back of Gamzee's memory, calling up a picture of purple tears on wet, white fur.

And then it passes. "What is up my gigantic brothers?" You know, he thinks, it's funny. Think I've already killed this fucker. Living life twice? Now that's a miracle.

"gonna bash your face in" hisses the healthier, upraised body.
"TILL YOU CAN'T FUCKING BE NO MORE" shouts the fallen.

"Ah, man, don't be like that!" Gamzee said. Unbidden but certainly wanted, a Faygo dropped out of his modus and into his hand. "I mean, I'm here to kill ya but you don't have to be a fucking whiner about it."

"CAN'T KILL US!"
"wouldn't notice the pain."
"SO YOU JUST CAN'T KILL US, BARD OF-"

Both goat heads scream at once, and the raised one's free hand swings ineffectively toward their conjoined tail and clutch of organs. The tear widens, and a large dollop of indigo spills over the edge of the tail. It hisses when it hits the ground before slipping away into deletion.

"you still haven't done it."
"YOU CAN'T WORK YOURSELF OUT, MAN. YOU'RE A PUZZLE YOU'RE TOO LAZY TO FUCKING SOLVE."
"bard of what are you, man? game doesn't know how to give you powers, game doesn't know how to give us powers. how are you going to kill us if you can't sort out your own problems."
"HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED TO FIND YOURSELF."

"Oh, bros, now you sound like... what's her name... right! Kanaya." Gamzee took a drink from the Faygo. He had not been this close to sober in weeks and it was starting to tell on him, but Karkat had insisted.

"the sylph of space is a walking hypocrisy."
"SHE'S A FUCKING CHEATER, MAN!"
"just like all of them."
"ALL MY BROS DYING LEFT AND RIGHT, WHAT THE HELL?"
"it's the fucking maid of time."
"IT'S THE MILLION FUCKING MAIDS OF TIME."

"Hey, bitch, don't be harshing my sisters! Sure, she's a nag, but she owes me one and... is that a organ grinder?"

"what."
"WHERE'S HE GOING?"
"where the fuck is he going."

It was. Awesome. So fucking awesome. Gamzee gives the handle a turn and sure enough, it plays that classic, monkey training tune: Entrance of the Gladiators! Fucking miracles. He gives it a few more turns, humming along, when suddenly the whole goddamn thing explodes in his face! There's this puppet sticking out of the front on a spring. Holy shit! Never seen an organ grinder do that before.

"Okay," he says a moment later, new toy lost somewhere in the south-by-northeast of his modus. "I'm back."

"THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, MAN?"
"we're a dark reflection of you and we don't even get it."
"LIKE A FUNHOUSE MIRROR BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN WE SHOULDN'T GET IT. THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"Aw, I dunno." Gamzee scratches at the back of his neck. "I guess I got some back pains, maybe a little bit of a headache, but I've been feeling all right."

"holy shit"
"HOPY FUCKING SHIT!"
"he just doesn't get it."
"NO WONDER THE GAME DON'T KNOW SHIT. "
"this asshole comes in here with no goals-"
"WHO HAS NO GOALS AT SIX SWEEPS?"
"and two identities tearing our asses the fuck in half"
"IT FUCKING HURTS, BASTARD!"
"but we'd do it all again"
"KEEP IT GOING FOREVER AND EVER"
"because if you move you die"
"LIKE THE FUCKING MAGGOT, GET IT?"
"it's a goddamn metaphor."
"SO WE KEEP GOING FOREVER SO NOBODY FUCKING DIES."
"nobody fucking gets hurt."
"EVERYTHING THE SAME FOREVER AND EVER, BARD OF GODDAMN FUCKING-YEAAAARGGGGGH!"

Gamzee couldn't help but laugh as the blood sloshed down again. "Just gonna do my job for me, man!"

The raised body caught its breath, braced against the lights. "stay in pain now and no one ever leaves."
"IF WE SPLIT MY MOTHERFUCKING BRO DIES."
"or my motherfucking bro dies."
"FUCK IT! FUCK IT AND FUCK BILIOUS SLICK."
"fuck the hypocrite sylph of space! live forever in stagnation!"
"AlL hAiL dErSe! HaIl ThE kInG oF tHe BlAcK tHrOnE!"

Gamzee continues to laugh as he watches them. They're getting so worked up over fucking nothing, after all. And then they start laughing too. High pitched and squealing, deep bass and shaking: like a funhouse mirror. He looks up again.

Hey now. What do you know. Old friends popping out of the woodwork! That's funny, though. After all, he didn't have any company with Capricorn except Aradia. But if things went exactly the same way they'd be fucking boring! "Hey Lady."

"Subjuggalator Makara."

Gamzee looks up, up and up at the towering, statuesque Troll before him, her golden trident well and ready at hand. "Whoa," he says. "Fuck, how'd you get so tall so fast?" Capricorn's stopped talking. Stopped moving, even, frozen-like.

"Subjuggalator Makara, you know me?"

Gamzee nods, a knot in his throat. "Sure, lady, I've been schoolfed. You're the Lily Empress. The one with cream blood. You said you were a fucking God." She nods slowly, and picks her finger. A single drop of white blood peeks out. He peered forward, squinting at Her Imperial Highness' glistening eyes. "Aren't you dead?"

"Two thousand sweeps, Subjuggalator Makara. How have things stood in my absence?"

Gamzee laughs again, before slapping hands over his mouth for breaking procedure. "They've, uh, pretty much busted up everything you built, ever, what with the evil magic shit and all."

"Call it what you will."

She nods and steps past him, to look up at the frozen form of Capricorn. Gamzee frowns. "Aw, bro, you're not here to fuck with my mojo, are you? Because that's not cool. My bro Rosie got that happening to her the other day and she got fucking pissed. My best bro said that the bad dude that went after her might come after the rest of us, is that you? You a Horroterror?"

"Yes, I'll know Rose Lalonde."

The Empress reaches out a hand toward Capricorn, down the split in its torso.

"I have no need to come to you for help, Loyal One. You've played your role."

Gamzee agrees. "...Why ain't you dead any more?"

"I'm checking on an investment, Loyal One."

"Ohh..." Gamzee steps forward to stand at her side. "I don't understand shit about stocks and stuff." The Empress laughs.

"What a mess you've made, Loyal One. Your Denizen screams invectives, you do nothing."

Gamzee does not know what to say to that. To be honest, Gamzee is slowly starting to come to terms with the idea that he does not know what is going on. It hurts.

"The Bard of Rage is dead, then."

"The what?" he asks. She gestures to the fallen goat-head.

"Two personalities in one mind, and Sgrub handled it until you began to sober and change. And Rage dies."

"Fuck, lady," Gamzee said. "I'm just the Bard, there ain't any thing on the end like with everyone else."

"Of course there is, Loyal One. Sgrub just can't work out what it is. Your Denizen is programmed to be your perfect counter, but suffers every time it probes a soul with no identity. Your Alpha Self moved on with the title of Rage. You do not."

"Oh," Gamzee says, following her as she walks. "...That's bad. I mean, being a... not alpha. Aradia said something about that. Means I'm going to fucking die, doesn't it?"

"Not necessarily, Loyal One. Sburb punishes doomed timelines created during its session. Yours branched before that time."

The more he heard the worse things sounded. Gamzee's headache was mounting, and he struggled to form words. "ThEn... uHh..."

"Like dominoes, a single change setting off the others, all to one, singular goal, the rest irrelevant. I made you change, and everything changed, to my purposes. My investment. My creation. My universe. Are you ready for the ending, Loyal One?"

"Fuck, I don't know." Gamzee sticks out his tongue and starts again to aimlessly pivot in his lucidity. The Empress takes this in with a certain amount of disdain, before Gamzee points back to the Denizen. "This motherfucker says I'm supposed to fucking find myself first."

"There is... on so many levels... not enough time for that."

Gamzee settles to the ground as another thought occurs to him. His headache magnifies, and he reaches up with his left hand to rest his pounding against his palm. Slowly, he discovers that he cannot. "...Ow."

"...I'm sorry, Loyal One."

Gamzee loos at his arm, and sees that a strange, purple bruise is welling up just below the surface. "The fuck's going on, man?"

"Oh, you're bleeding into you skin. Nothing to do with me. Your friend John is simply not so talented a surgeon as he fancies."

Gamzee eyes darted toward the Empress, and with a start he realized that he can hear laughter. Not hers. Capricorn was moving again; the dream had resumed.

"hahahahaha" "HAHAHAHA"
"you're here, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Gamzee said. He feels there was some reason he had to say that. He supposes he had said it before, but in the past, he could feel his fingertips. "I'm here."

"NOT YOU FUCKER."
"this bitch! this goddamn murdering bitch!"

"I believe he's referring to me," says a voice. "Taurus proved rather stubborn." Gamzee looks up, and the sky is filled with metal. Aradia has arrived a hundred times.

"FUCKING BITCH, MY BEST BRO WON'T DIE LIKE THAT"
"none of us can die. we live forever as we are."
"HEHEHEHE. WE AREN'T, THOUGH, ARE WE BRO?"
"hahahaha, because of this fucker on the ground. no identity. no shadow."

Black splotches begin to climb into Gamzee's vision, and there are monsters at the peripheral of his vision. Sopor. Vaguely, Gamzee is aware that he's being taken out of the sopor, that the memory is dying and the nightmares proper are closing in. The memory starts to compress, to move at a faster speed, as though it has to finish before it can die, and no one reacts to his change in condition.

"FUCK YOU!"
"fuck the maid of time and the bard of aaaarrrrrGGGGGHHH!"
"RAARGGGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"hahahahahahahhaha! fucking... ahahaha... bard! "
"YOU CAN'T STOP US, BITCHES"

A hundred Aradia's reply. "Gamzee and I are ready to finish you." The memory slips away from Gamzee, running on auto-pilot as though he was still healthy and ready. He can't feel his arm. His left side is numb and cold. "Anything with a health bar can die."

"you're not ready!"
"NONE OF YOU ARE FUCKING READY!"

Capricorn's rage shook the floor, a heat sparked out as the tents of the circus began to catch aflame, and the game screeched protest and errors as the Denizen readied for combat. Gamzee feels hands on him. Cold hands, like rubber, and he shakes past the tremors in the floor. The Empress is still watching him. "Quiet," Aradia orders. "No more talk and rhetoric."

"hehehehehehehe. she doesn't get it! hehehehe..."
"NO FUCKING CHANGE!"
"heheheheahhahahahahahahaha!"
"NO FUCKING CHANGE!"
"hahahahahaHaHaHaHaHa!"

The figures close in, and the voices whisper, names, places, orders. Karkat. He hears Karkat's voice, as Capricorn pushes through its hard-coded speech past the pain. Gamzee can't feel a thing, and the Empress is watching him.

"C'mOn BiTcHeS! mEeT eTeRnItY wItH tHe PaRaDoX oF sIlEnCe!"

Both heads bleat as one, a resounding sound to end all sound, and then there is nothing. The tent blows in the wind of combat in an empty din, an aural void.

I'm sorry, Loyal One.

Capricorn fights and dies in Silence, as he had in the past as well as the dream, and Gamzee rushes as though to follow. The Empress is watching him as the memory dies.

It was nothing personal.

Eridan ushered Tavros out of the room with Vriska's barbs on his back about him being an irresponsible punk, but Rose did not need to be told to leave. She had been long in Jade's room, playing Monopoly, by the time John came back. She heard him swear and really mean it for the first time. When he opened the door to talk to them he had regained his composure.

"Just the arm," he said, and tried to look relieved. So far. "Equius says he's already working on a new..." The faces that looked out told him to leave without saying another word.

"Rose..." Jade said after a long pause. "We knew that this could-"

"Shut up," Rose said, harsher than she intended. "Just..." She rolled the dice and moved her piece. The very last thing she wanted to do was to talk about it. They play on in silence.