A/N: *Hopes this chapter makes up for how long it took me to write this*

I'm still figuring out this AU, but updates should be a lot faster now. Enjoy!

"A circus?" Craig laughed, shaking his head dismissively. "It will never work…"

"Why not?" Eric asked, his suit and polished shoes were an envy-inducing contrast to the faded, sweat stained clothes of the ranch hands propped up on the fence.

July in South Park was unforgiving. The snow had melted, humidity had settled and the ranch hand's sweaty faces creased and squinted up at Eric as they prepared to listen to his proposition.

"You don't even know how to run one!" Craig said incredulously.

"Do you?" Eric asked, wrinkling his nose at the overwhelming smell of cattle.

"No, but, besides there's the cost of it all, the transportation!" Craig replied. "You can't have an all-year round circus here! It would never work! What with the bad winters we have-"

Eric raised a hand, fed up. "I know that."

"How are you going to t-t-transport this operation then, Eric?" Jimmy, another ranch hand asked, shifting his make-shift crutches into a more comfortable position.

"Rail,"

"Rail?" Clyde questioned.

"Yes, the acts can ride in a passenger train, and the equipment and animals can ride in a freight one."

"Animals?!" Craig exclaimed. "You're kidding!"

"A circus is nothing without a menagerie," Eric responded.

"And where are you going to get these animals? The pet store?"

Eric looked at Craig blankly for a few minutes, before he turned to Leopold, Clyde and Jimmy and asked, "Is he always this cynical?"

Clyde nodded, casting Craig an exasperated look.

"For your information, Craig, I have a lot of sources," Eric smiled.

"How do you mean sources, Eric?" Leopold asked.

"What do you think I was doing all this time I was away, Leo?"

"It's Butters," Clyde cut in.

"Excuse me?"

"We call Leo Butters now," Jimmy explained. "Because he's a b-b- baby."

"Yeah!" Clyde teased, nearly pushing Butters off the fence. "Little baby Butters with butter blond hair!"

"Anyway, Butters, collecting contacts is the only way you get by in this day and age… Knowing people who can get things done for you, people who are well-connected-"

"You mean like us?" Butters asked, chest puffing out proudly in anticipation of being told that yes, he was indeed an important contact.

"You could prove to be a useful contact in the future," Eric answered diplomatically.

"You mean if one of us ever gets rich?" Craig questioned, staring Eric down hard. "That's the only way we'll be of benefit for you?"

"Don't be so narrow-minded, Craig!" Eric replied wryly. "No, I'm actually here to offer you boys a nice change of pace, an opportunity to branch out of this town and see the world!"

"Like you have?" Butters asked.

Eric nodded, "that is correct."

"Craig has a point, Butters," Clyde leaned in close to Butters and warned, keeping one eye on Eric as he spoke. "Don't sign on to something straight away, alright?"

"Nothin's f-f-foolin' me…" Jimmy said.

"Me neither," Butters nodded.

Apparently, people had been talking about Eric while he was away. And he had become somewhat notorious, which was hardly a lie.

"Fair enough," Eric sighed. "But try to also keep an open mind as well. Equally important here."

"Alright," Clyde nodded.

"Honestly, we're at ground level with this whole circus thing." Eric admitted. "I need to at least lay a foundation before I can get in touch with people and convince them to fund it, or give me the details of some professionals I can seek out. Plus, these professionals are going to want to invest their business and time in something profitable. Not just an empty tent in the middle of a field somewhere."

Clyde shifted on the fence, narrowing his eyes when he asked, "What are you getting at?"

"I need some workers to help set this up," Eric replied. "Put the tent up, put the tent down. People who are willing to travel around and commit to this."

"And that's the foundation?"

Eric smirked, "No, Clyde, let me finish."

The ranch hands cast curious looks at each other. All of them except Craig who had been distracted by a cow butting his lower back.

"Say, fellas, when you think of a circus, what's the first thing that comes to mind?" Eric asked.

Silence save for the discordant chorus of mooing cows and the sun cooking the town. Craig rolled his eyes, out of sight of his fellow ranch hands but explicit enough so that Eric saw it.

"Clowns!" Butters piped up.

"Good, Leopold!" Eric grinned.

"Wait, you want us to be clowns?" Clyde asked.

"You're quick, Donovan."

"Seriously?" Clyde added, offended.

Eric shrugged. "What's the problem?"

"Yeah, what's the problem, Clyde?" Butters asked, palming at Clyde's shoulder hard enough to make the man grunt softly, unamused.

"It's embarrassing!"

"Nice to know one of you is still thinking straight," Craig commented.

"Why is it embarrassing?" Jimmy asked with a smile. "I think it could be a lot of f-f-fun."

"Me too!" Butters grinned.

"That's the spirit!" Eric replied. "What do you say, Clyde?"

"Y-yeah, Clyde we can't be a troupe of clowns if there's only two of us," Jimmy said. "Then we'd j-just be a couple of clowns!"

"Suddenly we're a troupe of clowns?!" Clyde exclaimed.

Craig snorted derisively, "What do you mean suddenly?"

"What can I do to sweeten the deal, Clyde?" Eric asked, voice velvety. The same voice used to con gangsters, law enforcers, people who had access to money or anything of value that could be later sold.

Eric wasn't used to adopting the tone of voice to convince a lowly ranch hand in to making a deal.

"Tell you that you get to travel across the country, maybe even further?" Eric continued, voice teasing with temptation. "See places you never will if you choose to work on a cattle ranch for the rest of your life? Tell you that I can offer you double of what the rancher is paying you?"

Intrigue sprinted across Clyde's face.

Eric knew that the wage route was the best way to go. Money motivates everyone and everything. Stealing it was what had occupied his days since he was a teenager.

"Look, the reason I came to you guys is because I know that you're dependable and you're hard working," Eric explained. "Also, you've got nothing to lose! You're young, you haven't got wives or kids to think about, so why not take a chance? And if the unlikely happens-"

"The unlikely being what?" Clyde questioned.

"This falls flat on its ass," Eric answered honestly. "Then you can tell me that you told me so…"

Clyde stared at Eric, glanced between his two friends who were already on board, then back at the jostling cattle.

"Fine, I'll do it."

The eruption of cheers startled the cattle, and Eric shook his clowns' hands with a triumphant grin on his face.

"How ab-b-out you, Craig?" Jimmy asked

"Yeah, what about you, Craig?" Butters repeated.

"I'll stay here," Craig responded pointedly. "Where the wages are steady and the work is reliable-"

"And boring?" Jimmy interrupted.

"Yeah, nice and boring," Craig replied, hopping down from his perch on the fence. "Just the way I like it."

Eric's newly hired clowns met him for a drink after they had officially resigned from the ranch. And because their pay was going to be a little unsteady for a while, Eric felt it was only fair to buy the drinks.

"To the circus!" Eric toasted, raising his frothing mug of beer.

"To the circus!" Clyde, Jimmy and Butters cheered in unison, beer dribbling and sloshing onto the small table they had crowded around, the clinks of glass like shrapnel to their toast.

"So Eric, when are you going to start ruh-recruiting more acts?" Jimmy asked.

"Soon," Eric replied. "I want to look a little closer to home first. Preferably in the state."

Eric wanted to build up a more tantalising and potentially lucrative troupe before he scoured the country for more prestige acts, perhaps even on an international level if his contacts didn't fail him.

"Did you know there's a guy down in Denver who's indestructible?" Butters piped up, wincing at the sour, acquired taste of beer. Golden, translucent and clinging to fine, fair hairs on his upper lip.

"Really?" Eric replied, undoubtedly intrigued.

"Yep!"

"How do you know him?"

Well, Leo, you may prove to be a useful contact already.

"I don't," Butters answered. "It was in the paper a couple of weeks ago, at the back of it, anyway. He's a street performer or something. The journalist said that the fella could take a bullet to the head, survive a fall from the tallest building you can imagine… He even breathes fire!"

"Breathes fire?" Clyde said, arching a sceptical eyebrow. "That can't be right…"

"Well, he does!" Butters protested. "I don't know how, but he does!"

"Where exactly in Denver does he perform?" Eric prodded.

"My mom cut out the article for me, it said the street he performs on, but I've never been to Denver so it don't mean nothin' to me."

Eric grinned, masked by the rolling froth of beer on the rim of his glass.

"I've been to Denver plenty of times," Eric said. "How about you and I go down there tomorrow, Butters?"

"Really?" Butters replied excitedly.

"Yeah, you can be my assistant in the recruitment process," Eric smiled indulgently, like Butters was a younger sibling finally in on the big boys' games. "Bring the article with you and we'll try to find this firebreather."

Butters was still in bed when Eric called at his house (his parents' house) at seven thirty in the morning.

While the younger man loudly fumbled around upstairs, trying to find his shoes, fix his hair and locate that cut-out newspaper article he swore was 'somewhere', Eric chatted and had some tea with Mr and Mrs Stotch. They weren't too pleased that their only son had quit his job to run off and join the circus.

But Eric could hold his own, answering every sceptical question with half-lies, optimistic assurances and a confident smile. It wasn't tiring, or too difficult when Eric had lied and charmed his way out of situations much worse, and definitely more life threatening.

Watching Butters stumble down the stairs and try to act natural in front of his strict parents, Eric saw major clown potential.

A couple of hours later and they were in Denver, with Butters exclaiming that he had never seen buildings so tall, never seen so many people in one place. His excitement dwindled as the day dragged on, being replaced with fatigue and nervousness. The day was hot, their search for this so-called firebreather was not.

"Are you sure this is the right street?" Butters asked, knuckles bumping anxiously together as they found themselves in humid shadows.

"Of course it is!" Eric exclaimed, although he wasn't too sure. "Let me take a look at the article again?"

Eric snatched the article from Butters' hands before the blond could even reply.

"The ink is a little smudged…" Butters said apologetically.

Eric peered at the piece of paper for a few minutes, before he sighed. "No, it's definitely this street."

Butters hung close to Eric as they walked, both out of place and probably unwelcome. Eric sharply dressed and Butters in his Sunday best, fitting, he had thought, for their trip into a big city.

Summer must have wrinkled its nose at this particular area, this particular street, veiled in shadows. It was a dirty mirror caked with grime, cigarette smoke and residual smog.

Menacing, judging eyes flickered briefly before turning their attention to something else. Eric was used to such streets, he had passed through all of them in every city he had visited, and most of his nefarious deals were made in streets such as these, in underworld buildings. Brothels, bars, jazz clubs, where the entertainment was lacking in luxury and pomp, but the drinks were abundant and the patrons easy to scam.

"It's smelly," Butters quietly complained, hanging close to Eric like his shadow.

"Really?" Eric chuckled lowly. "You've worked on a cattle ranch and this is smelly?"

Butters bristled before replying, "Cows are different. They can't help it if they smell."

Eric peered down at the article, before retuning his gaze to the winding street. "I don't think these people have much choice either."

Butters' cornflower eyes flitted like antsy bluebottles, and he flinched at every stranger who passed them.

Eric observed all of this with a quiet smirk. "You look a little nervous, Butters."

"What?" Butters flinched, before replying defensively. "Me? No, I ain't scared…"

"I never said you were scared," Eric commented. "I said you were nervous."

Butters flushed and shrugged, "same thing."

"Nobody's going to hurt you, alright?" Eric said, a little impatiently. Goading Butters had been fun, but now he was just embarrassing himself and Eric. "Just don't stare and you'll be fine."

"O-okay…" Butters stammered, leaving Eric unconvinced.

"Do you need some excitement?!" A feminine voice suddenly bellowed, like a gunshot in the downtrodden street.

Eric lifted his head, the voice came from a short young woman, with severely cut, mousy hair and a grimy face. She stood on a soapbox, her undoubtedly charismatic smile and big lungs attracting a crowd. "Do you need some magic?!"

"Hey, what's that?" Eric asked absently, already approaching the crowd.

"What's what?" Butters asked, quickly following behind.

"That girl!" Eric said excitedly. "She may have something to do with the fire breather, come on!"

Eric tugged on Butters' sleeve, wanting to get a closer look at what the girl was effectively advertising.

"Gather 'round, folks!" She exclaimed, confident hands on loose hips. "And witness bravery and skill you have only dreamed about! Witness the impossible, right here!"

A golden-haired boy was visible behind her, crouching down and taking a mouthful of, Eric assumed was, kerosene.

"For your own safety ladies and gentleman, you're gonna need to step back a little bit," the girl informed, and the crowd stepped back compliantly.

"But don't worry," she assured, "you'll still get a great view of the wonder…"

She too stepped away, standing at a safe distance.

"Ready?" Eric saw her mouth the word to the golden haired boy, who nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

"That's him!" Butters whispered in Eric's ear, bouncing lightly on his heels. "That's the fire breather!"

Eric glanced down at the article and the obscure picture quickly, he didn't want to miss the show. But he could have balked at the handsome young man this lowly street performer turned out to be. His golden hair was greasy and lank, his tanned skin was like taut leather, still rather youthful even if he had worked hard in plenty of lifetimes, and his eyes were a chilled blue.

Underworked muscles strained his skin, bones creaking under thin meat. Eric imagined him made-up, well-fed, sparkling and sweating under a raucous big top.

His lips formed a charismatic smile around crooked teeth, and he looked at the young woman (for all intents and purposes, his advertiser) with fondness, a protectiveness. She returned the favour with an encouraging grin.

The fire breather squinted, tried to gauge the direction of the practically non-existent breeze, before he turned to the side and struck a pose like a true performer.

Eric glanced at Butters, eyes glossy with both excitement and fear. That look, that's exactly what Eric was looking for, times one hundred. Astonishment, anticipation, that's what Eric wanted his circus to thrive on.

A lion-like, bellowing roar of fire from the blond's mouth, a steady stream of searing orange flames, thick and rippling. It was formidable and beautiful enough to make the crowd gasp and swoon, terrified and in love.

But it all led to one thing; thunderous applause.

"Kenny McCormick, everybody!" The young woman exclaimed, as the applause grew louder and the fire breather took a bow. "The indestructible man!"

Eric chuckled as Butters wolf whistled beside him.

"What do you think, Eric?" Butters asked, still clapping.

Eric kept his eyes focused on his fire breather and grinned, "That I want him in my circus."

After the crowd had thrown their money at Kenny and dispersed, Eric made his way over to the firebreather. To also give him a tip and a proposal to join the circus.

Sort of.

Eric simply said how impressed he was by Kenny's show (a breathless, excited Butters next to him only reaffirmed the statement), and that he had a business offer he thought Kenny would be quite interested in.

After turning to his advertiser, who gave a consensual shrug, Kenny agreed to hear out Eric's offer and invited him back to his home so they could talk properly.

There were of course trepidations on Eric's part, mainly from Butters who quietly fretted to Eric that they could get mugged or worse. Eric didn't quite see it that way, and if that did turn out to be the case then he was prepared.

Kenny's home was actually the top floor of a crumbling tenement building, similar to the ones Eric had slept in, stole from, when he was a swindling, pickpocketing teenager, living wherever the next available freight train was heading.

An inebriated older brother was sleeping soundly on the sagging couch, passed over by Kenny and his sister Karen, their drunken sibling as silent and deadweight as mould on the walls. There was a lot of that in the McCormick household, rats too; living in the attic and nibbling holes in hoarded bags of food.

"… Fire juggling, fire breathing," Kenny was busy listing off his talents at the kitchen table. "Anything with fire, anything with knives-"

Butters interrupted, "The article said you can take a bullet to your head-"

"Oh, yeah, that's a good trick!" Kenny laughed. "I can do that too."

"How did you find out you have this talent?" Eric inquired.

Kenny shrugged and picked at his dirty fingernails. "I wouldn't call it a talent, it's just an ability to never get hurt."

"Never?" Butters asked, eyebrows knitting in disbelief.

"Nope," Kenny replied. "I remember when my pa was still alive, I found his shotgun and shot myself in the knee, didn't hurt at all, didn't even leave a mark. Nobody believed me of course, 'cept for Karen."

He turned to his younger sister with a fond smile, before continuing, "So then I started doing shows for the kids in the neighbourhood. They'd give me enough money to get some groceries for my ma and some candy for myself."

"What tricks did you do?" Butters asked.

"I could move my shoulder out of the joint, pull my teeth out but they'd just grow back straight away… Kids used to give me twigs and nails and then I'd put them in my eyes," Kenny stooped to laugh. "That used to scare 'em, but they'd still ask for more…"

The reminiscing faded away into earnest philosophising.

"We all have a sick sense of humour, even the richest of folks," Kenny said. "It don't matter where you come from, who your parents are, we'll all pay to see a man shoot himself in the head, blow his brains out, and then stand back up again without a scratch."

For his matter-of-fact introspection and humbly told stories of a macabre, unusual childhood, Eric couldn't help but wonder if Kenny was telling the truth. As a conman himself, doubting people right off the bat was second nature, especially something so extraordinary, from a man who wanted to trick and elude people. Were these stories being shared at the kitchen table merely fabrications? Was Eric's interest and Butters' fascination the hoped for effect from Kenny's elaborate illusion?

Was Kenny a magician or a medical marvel to be put on display for reasons other than entertainment?

"And you find that this sort of thing pays well?" Eric asked, ignoring his doubts for a moment. If Kenny slipped up, then it was his embarrassment, his pride on the line, not Eric's.

Kenny didn't answer, instead Karen shook the bucket heavy with coins.

"We don't want for much, anyways," Kenny explained. "As long as Kevin gets his drink, Karen gets the groceries and I pay the rent for this dump, then we're happy."

"We don't live above our means, Mr Cartman," Karen added.

"That's all well and good," Eric replied. "But with my help you could make this show more lucrative."

"How?" Kenny asked.

"I'm starting a circus. I have the necessary funds, but I'm in need of performers."

"We saw you in the paper and thought-"

"Like you said, Mr McCormick," Eric cut Butters off. "Your talent, your ability, is something that can be universally enjoyed. While your own operation is sustainable enough, wouldn't it be nice to have money to throw away? A guaranteed place to live, a guaranteed meal and a chance to experience a world outside of Denver?"

"You're going all over the state with this thing?" Kenny asked.

Still thinking so small, it made Eric grin. "No, all over the country," he answered.

"And this is the type of entertainment you're looking for?" Kenny questioned, his curiosity peaking.

"Yes,"

"Exactly what I'm doing now?"

"Yes," Eric repeated. "But in front of hundreds of people."

Kenny nodded distantly, like Eric's words were background noise when part of him was already sold, tempted. His eyes flittered between the splintered table, and his surprised sister, who looked she was having difficulty comprehending the deal and how quickly it had come about.

Kenny's lips pursed, as his indestructible body tensed and fidgeted, muscles softy spasmed under the ache of decisions.

"Could Karen come with me?" Kenny asked.

An unforeseen deal breaker.

"Well, I'm not sure," Eric answered, refreshingly honest. "We could accommodate-"

"Ken, I'm not needed there," Karen cut in.

Kenny looked to his sister, face creased with incredulity. Well meaning, objecting, not wanting to leave her behind.

"What are you talking about?" Kenny chuckled, albeit anxiously. "Of course you're needed!"

Karen looked at her brother with imploring, resigned eyes.

It seemed that bullet holes and gaping wounds would never hurt as much as severance from his sister.

"Excuse us," Kenny said shortly to Eric and Butters, getting out of his chair and leading Karen into the other room.

But the walls were thin.

"I have no talent, Kenny!" Karen argued. "All I know how to do is look after myself and my brothers!"

"You can sew-"

Eric already knew of a good seamstress, Bebe Stevens. In this economy, she had brusquely told Eric, she'd take any job, and some travelling would be nice.

"What good is that going to be in a circus? Even so, Ken, I'm not the best-"

"But who's gonna get a crowd for me? Who's gonna help me set everything up?"

"Mr Cartman will! It's his circus, after all! I told you, I'm not needed-"

"Yes, you are, Karen... By me, I need you there."

"Kenny…"

Honesty had settled the storm, for now. Butters looked at Eric with guilty eyes, Eric didn't notice, just kept an ear out.

"This seems like a great opportunity," Karen said softly. "One of us should get out of here."

"No, I ain't abandoning you,"

"You wouldn't be abandoning me! I'm a big girl, Ken. I can look after myself,"

"I'd miss you something awful, and I can't leave you here."

A heavy sigh, the end of the sibling's argument was in sight, a clear winner. A clear, steadfast decision.

"If that's what you want," Karen said, disappointed.

"It's what I want," Kenny confirmed. "I ain't going anywhere."

The siblings returned to the kitchen, though Eric and Butters already knew the outcome.

"Sorry, gentlemen," Kenny sighed. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't join your circus."

A/N: How was that? Worth the wait? Eric hasn't convinced Kenny but he has plenty of other acts to seek out.