The Invitation

I set out from my dressing room towards the big-top tent I and my coworkers called BRYC (big red and yellow chief) we gave all of the other tents names too, but that's not important. I was on in five minutes. The night was clear and crisp, a typical early summer night in England. There were hardly any clouds to cover up the lonely stars hanging out in the cosmos. The moon shone eerily overhead. I was in my skimpy, fire themed leotard. Tonight I would be equipped with explosives of my own making. Mini fireworks.

I passed up some of the animals and tipped my invisible hat. I looked up at the high, flagged top of BRYC. I (again) resisted the urge to take off flying. I did get out every once and a while when ever we didn't have a show. When my coworkers went out to the nearby town to shop and get drunk and maybe even something else from the local wenches, I would go out flying in the night around the countryside. I would have to be in my large black cloak so that no one would notice me. But I fly and fly and not touch the ground until I had to go back to the camp to rest up for the next show.

I walked through the performer's entrance and waited for my cue.

"And now, for the piece de résistance, the amazing seventh wonder of the universe, the woman that can practically fly-" You have no idea. "The amazing Amelia Acrobat!"

I ran out on cue and do cartwheels and flying enhanced flips on my way to the ladder. And maybe a few small explosions to captivate those in the audience dozing on the bleachers.

I leap up the ladder, all three stories of it, and stand on the platform. One of the acrobats, Carl, who had already been on swung over by his knees and landed on the platform next to me and handed me the bar. I nodded my thanks as he patted my back wishing me luck and then climbing down the ladder. Without hesitation I swung off on the bar, swinging back and forth, the drummer below started his breathe stopping roll. When I got to a good height, I released myself and spun backwards some, letting loose some loud cracks and explosions of color to earn some oohs and aahs. I caught on to another acrobat's knees and we swung together a couple of times. Then I released and landed (well, quickly flew) down to the tight rope landing perfectly on both feet. The audience suddenly came alive, roaring cheers and thunderous applause. I bet you could have heard all that commotion a mile away and thought a thunderstorm was coming your way.

Once the commotion died down a bit, I paced up and down the tight rope, putting my arms out on either side, wobbling slightly to make it look authentic. Then, without warning, I jumped backwards and did several flips aided by the Gatromites and some explosives. The crowd, again, did their thunderstorm of approval. Now, the piece de resistance. I walked to the farthest end of the rope, for show. When I got there, Tony, the drummer, began his roll again, and the audience automatically silenced, they knew something was about to happen. They didn't know what, but they knew it would be something.

I took a couple steps out, then did a handstand, and walked out, like that, to the middle of the rope. But everyone knew that that wasn't it. Then, using the Gatromites for help, I stood on one arm and grabbed some fireballs out of my leg pocket. The audience was already starting to murmur, but I wouldn't let them applaud for the wrong thing. I took the fireballs and placed one on each of my slippered feet. Then I put my arm back down and, upon the fireballs igniting themselves, started juggling two balls of fire with my feet. The audience started their thunder applause again, but stopped short when I reached up on one arm and grabbed another fireball. Which I ignited and threw up to my feet, which were already juggling two.

So there I was, standing on my hands in the middle of a tight rope, juggling three small balls of flame with my feet, three stories in the air. The audience did there thunder applause when the band did their little Ta-Da!!! theme. Then, just for an extra few points, I jumped with my arms to stand on my feet, catching the fireballs in my protected hands. Then I casually walked off the tight rope juggling the fireballs and tossing them into a tub of water once I reached the end platform.

I climbed down the ladder and hurried to my dressing room to avoid the wondering crowd. As I walked away, I had to almost avoid my wondering coworkers patting me on the back and shouting their congrats from all sides. Once I finally reached the safety of my rather large tent, I barricaded the entrance. I walked over to my bed and checked underneath it for the ball of lingerie' (for safety purposes). I pulled it out and unraveled it to see the suitcase with James' documents in it. I opened it up and sure enough, there they were, all of them, just the way I left them.

I put all of that away and went to my vanity to clean up and get changed. But just as I had taken my long, straight, black hair out of the insanely tight bun it had been in, someone called my name from the tent opening.

"Miss Foxworthy?" they called. It was somebody from the circus. Spectators called me Miss Amelia, but my coworkers all knew my last name.

"Yes?" I called back

"There's a letter for you."

"Who from?"

"The envelope is blank ma'am. It was handed to me by one of the customers."

"What did he look like?"

"I never saw his face, he was a rather shady man, Miss. Wore a hooded cloak and talked in a whispered voice."

I wasn't sure what all this was about. But I figured I could handle myself. I walked over to the opening and moved the chair I had placed in front of the tent door and opened up. The man handed me the envelope and I thanked him as we both turned away. I walked back into my tent, barricading the door again. I sniffed the envelope for any kind of explosive powder. None. No unusual smell whatsoever. So, feeling safe, I set the envelope down on my vanity and went behind my screen to get changed.

Once I had gotten rid of the constricting leotard and changed into my nightgown and dressing robe, I sat down at my vanity and cleaned off my makeup. Then, when I couldn't contain the curiosity any longer, I snatched up the envelope and sliced it open with my switchblade. I unfolded the letter to see a neatly written letter addressed to me.

Dear Miss Amelia Foxworthy,

You are cordially invited to join a rather, unique club. A league, if you will. You have an extraordinary ability, but feel safe in knowing that your secret is safe with us. We need you, the world needs you. If you will comply, please meet me at the Black Cat pub at midnight tonight.

Yours Truly,

John Doe

I was petrified. The letter slowly slipped from my hand and floated to the floor. How did they know about my ability to fly? How could I trust some stranger who was probably a stalker obsessed with my career? But, then again, they could also be in need of my pyrotechnic skills.

On the whole I was very confused, but in the end, I figured that it wouldn't hurt to go see this, John Doe. I looked at my clock and saw that it was quarter till midnight. I had to hurry. I quickly put on my nearest dress (I always wear pants and boots under my dress to prevent anyone from looking at my undergarments), ran a brush through my hair, secured James' notes (I'm always afraid that someone is going to steal them) and ran out to town. I had been to this town once before, but I had never seen the Black Cat pub.

I walked around the town for several minutes until I found the small, rundown pub on the outskirts of town. Right by their small, gloomy cemetery, go figure. The windows were all black, the wind whistled through the trees in the cemetery. It was quite frightening actually. But I put my fears behind me, and walked up to the door. I knocked quietly, several times. But no one answered. I peered into one of the windows and jumped in fright when I saw something move inside. I backed up just a bit from the door, just as it opened.

The man who opened it actually looked quite contrary to the surroundings. While the pub and everything around was more like a horror story, the man actually looked very warm and friendly. He was about my age, rather short (but then again, I'm sort of on the tall side, being 5"6 and all), clean-shaven, wearing a suit like a man would wear on an outing with his children. The man was about as friendly as he looked.

"Hello Miss Fox worthy." He said tipping his bowler, "Won't you come inside?"

I nodded and obliged. The empty pub wasn't the nicest, or cleanest, place in the world, and it was rather gloomy. But the man I assumed to be John Doe offered me a clean seat at a clean table with a clean lamp burning brightly at the center of the table. That was when I realized that the windows were painted black and it was my reflection I had been scared of earlier. D'oh.

Once Mr. Doe and I were seated, he poured us some tea he had waiting and got down to business.

"I assume you got my letter?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And you can completely trust us with your secret of flight?"

"I suppose so. I really don't have a choice in the matter."

"Oh, of course." He said, biting his lip.

"But that's all right." I said noticing his discomfort. "I suppose somebody was bound to find out sooner or later."

He smiled, looking relieved.

"So," I said inquiringly "what's all this about 'the world needs me'? Sounds a bit cliché don't you think?"

"No actually," he said to my surprise. "The world really does need you. But you're not alone."

He had my full attention.

"A masked madman, known as The Phantom, has threatened to launch a war on the entire world."
"Well, can't the world put their differences aside and team up to squash the vermin?"

"That was part of his plan, he did horrible things and blamed them on different countries. So now the world, especially Europe, is at unrest. Spies, working for my employer, have found the next phase of the Phantom's plan. And we need a team of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and women, to take on this threat with a force like none the world has ever seen before."

"And you mean I'm to be a part of that force?"

"Yes, along with several others like you."

"What would happen if I declined your offer?"

John paused, he seemed to be thinking of something, or remembering.

"Do you remember what the man who killed Dr. James Foxworthy looked like?" he asked with a solemn tone.

I froze. I hated remembering James' death. But the image of the killer remained in my head.

"He had an iron plate covering his chest." I said, still remembering.

"That is the Phantom's trademark. Assassins with armor plating, to protect themselves in their evil work."

I knew then that I had to join. They knew about my powers, and James.

"Where do I sign up?" I said quietly.