(Two Days Later)

As if by hack writing, Rubin and Dalton's respective interviews happened to be on the same day (granted at different times, but still). Both men took a long look at their potential place of employment and marveled in all the work that went into renovation.

This time last year, the spot in question had been an abandoned supermarket and longstanding municipal eyesore. The red tape surrounding some final fate for the building found itself slashed to ribbons after Crime Boss Edgar Strauss and six of his cohorts were arrested after going up with the famed and fabled spy from WISE known as Twilight. Considering the turn of events, the Mandry's Corporation (a subsidiary of Brayzen Commercial Industries responsible for themed chain restaurants) purchased the property and spent the time since then converting it into the first of hopefully many Bondman themed cafes; an apropos fate all things considered.

Even in a dormant and half renovated state, Dalton and Rubin were admittedly overwhelmed by not only what had been created but what potentially came into fruition as they entered the establishment proper. Plaster boulders of varied sizes had begun to be retrofitted on the building's exterior and spray painted for maximum authenticity. Once inside, the two found themselves standing in a gift shop which was filled with all manner of memorabilia ready to be purchased before watching in amazement as PH tests were being performed on the water in the archway aquarium separating the store from the dining area.

" 'Scuse us."

Both men jumped back as day laborers haul in a parade of fiberglass statues in the likeness of assorted League of Evil members (in particular Howlin' Allen and the Beats: Roman Tick, Pinchin' Thomas, Sturm and Drang, and Bellowing Saul). As leader of this outfit, the Howlin' Allen figure held up a height chart; no doubt to be displayed somewhere near the entranceway of some play zone. Sure enough, upon passing through to the restaurant, the figures were carefully unloaded over in the far corner and bolted to the floor. A tarp was pulled down, revealing a sign which confirmed the spot as a ball pit and jungle gym.

"They really cleaned it up nicely, didn't they?" Rubin said in bewilderment.

"I don't know." Dalton replied. "Family restaurant, gift-shop, life-sized figures/animatronics, indoor playroom, costume waitstaff…It looks like too much too fast; like it wants to be a bit of everything all at once."

"If you can manage it, you can manage it."

Both men turn around to see a well-dressed man with grey-streaked hair and a prominent widow's peak coming down from the top office promptly introducing himself as Mr. Brayzen. Flanking him was a small entourage which included chefs, mixologists, architects and adjunct acting teachers.

"Well, off we go." Dalton said. "Break a leg."

"Break a leg."

(Kitchen)

"I know that at the end of the day this is a family-oriented tourist trap." Chef Julian Kidd thought to himself as he glanced between his notes and the array of foodstuffs before him. "Not all of us have the wherewithal to rent Newstone Castle on a whim. Still, I didn't graduate Eden and become the chef I am today by sacrificing quality on the altar of expedience."

Visually, the fruits of Rubin's labor appeared to please the eminent eatery evaluator as he basked in the sight before him: A sampler of grilled garlic Teriyaki wings, spiced onion rings, coconut shrimp and a five-cheese dipping sauce with tri-color chips. A house salad with baby spinach, corn, cubed tomato, red onions, raisins and avocado. A Hamburg Steak sandwich with fried onions and waffle fries.

But what truly made the boy blanche was dessert: a peanut cheesecake.

"Something the matter?" The critic began testily.

"No sir."

"Then get to it."

Rubin gave a slight bow and promptly went to work making what Chef Kidd ordered. Of course, on top of quality, there was also a time element: one hour to complete the meal asked of him. Sure enough, with five minutes to spare, Rubin presented the meal and hung back in the distance to squirm and sweat internally. Little by little, the contending culinarian found his worries abated as his judge not only ate the food before him (as opposed to sampled), but did so with a satisfied smile, but more than anything Yet it was being called over to sit with him man to man that really made Rubin's day…at least initially.

"Royal Hugaria? No kidding. And it's more than evident your time there was well spent considering what you've prepared for me…(Chef Kidd's face suddenly went dark with confusion)…Still, I know the owner doesn't usually terminate people on a whim. Especially when they exhibit much promise. So I have to know, what happened."

Whatever cloud Rubin floated on suddenly bottomed out. At the same time, he knew his time with the Red Circus (even as a footnote in their wider narrative of operation) was bound to come up. With Chef Kidd's promise that he'd reserve judgement until the completion of the interviewee's story, Rubin took a deep breath and put it all on the line.

"…and after name dropping Catherine as casually as she did, the girl just walked away in a puff of peanut scented smoke. Hence my initial hesitance towards your choice of dessert. I'm sure right now you're probably going to tell me to get lost and I don't blame you. I knew getting out that going back to building a normal life after all that was an uphill battle…and, hey, after a year you get kinda numb to it. Still though, the stigma of being as close as you were (even as an acolyte) is enough to get you blacklisted. I'll see myself out now. Thank you for your time."

The room is silent as Rubin begins to leave.

"Young man."

Rubin slowly turns around to see Chef Kidd tug at the collar of his shirt. The young man's eyes widen as a thin silver chain comes into view, upon which rests a round red alloy pendant with the letters O.L.Y. placed trigonally around an ominously anatomic skull. Behind said skull were crisscrossed lightning bolts of white highlighted in black.

"Ostania's Legion of Youth." He whispered.

"You shared a secret with me. And now, I in turn reveal one of my own." The chef began quietly. "I too had misplaced youthful zeal before the war that had the potential to curdle into bloodlust and contempt. As such, you'll find there are some in life that are understanding, perhaps even forgiving, of youthful stupidity…"

The look on his face suddenly became intense as he pulls Rubin close.

"…provided that is, that they've come to their senses and have turned a new leaf when confronted with the error of their ways."

"You…(gulp)…you have my word…sir."

(Acting)

"No matter how much you torture me. I'll NEVER sell off my friends."

The teachers chatted among themselves as Dalton stood "handcuffed" behind the wall as being "tortured" by "thugs" with "whips and chains". They had seen more than their fair share of applicants, many of whom were as dedicated fanboys as they come. Yet like the eye of the hurricane, one particular judge sat and stroked his cheeks in contemplation at the performance before him.

"I have seen enough."

Though wizened and weary with age, his quiet voice still bought the chatter of his colleagues to a halt. Slowly he grasps his cane and rises from his seat with determination despite his unsteadiness. Like a deer in the headlights, Dalton stood paralyzed as the aged impresario circled him like a vulture.

"Do the letters R, T, S and B mean anything to you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Royal Thespian Society of Berlint. Before the war caused it to disband my mother was-"

"Connie Tandyr." The man finished with a small smile. "I knew her very well back as a student and taught her everything she knew. She took all my lessons to heart…(his voice suddenly turns downward)…all but one."

"How to chose a good man?"

The old professor wanted to laugh. Instead with a sad smile and shake of his head he continues.

"She had ambition, yes. And talent by the buckets. But I always told her that acting is an art of reciprocity. Each role we portray, grand or pedestrian though it may be, is a relationship with our respective audience. If we transcend ourselves…and make them invested enough to feel that emotion long after the curtain has dropped or the screen goes dark, then we have mastered what it means to be an actor. And no disrespect to your mother, but she never cared to grasp that."

"No. Warmth and emotional connection were always foreign to her." Dalton said tonelessly.

"You, however, seem to have that." The old man continued. "And while Mr. Brayzen has the final say as to who gets in at the end of the day, rest assured you've got an advocate in me."

Before long, another two weeks had passed before Rubin and Dalton's respective telephones rang, and on the other end came Mr. Brazen's voice and the words that sealed the fates for both sets of men.