“I’m sure it’s a great privilege,” Victor said, reminding himself that it 
was no worse than some of the things MC&D did. "But if you wanted 
to leave, could you?" 


"As a Clown | literally can't live without Milk, so leaving would be a 
death sentence." 


"| see," Victor nodded. "Is there any way you could not be a Clown 
again?" 


"No offence, but I'd rather die from Milk deprivation than be normal 
again," she replied. "Humdrums can't do stuff like this." 


She pulled out a pack of balloons, and inflated one with a single 
breath. She tied it off effortlessly, and when she let it go it floated 
like it was inflated with helium instead of air. She filled up several 
more in rapid succession and then began juggling them. Going both 
up and down, they seemed to defy physics, floating or falling 
however she desired as if following a constantly changing invisible 
track. The balloons appeared to have a life of their own, an effect 
that was only enhanced by their giggling. 


"That is impressive," Victor complimented. “I hope they pay you 
well." 


“We get paid in scrip. It’s easier that way since we travel to so many 
different countries in so many alternate realities, there’s just too 
many types of currencies to keep straight,” Lolly replied, having no 
difficulty with juggling and talking at the same time. “It’s a little bit of 
a hassle to redeem it for real cash if we ever want to go off site, but | 
like it anyway. It makes this place feel like it’s its own little country, 
and I’m the princess." 


One of the balloons did escape from her grasp and floated over near 


Mr. Noodles. He popped it with his finger, and it screamed like 
someone being murdered, scattering confetti across the tent. All the 
other balloons fell dead silent. 


Victor's expression twisted into one of confused horror. 


"Oh don't mind that. That's just like when steam escapes from a 
lobster's shell when you toss them in boiling water," Lolly claimed, 
letting the balloons float away freely. "Balloons don't have souls. 
Believe me, | know. One time, we needed this Elder God thing's 
permission to enter his dimension or whatever, and he demanded a 
sacrifice. He got so cranky when | tried to give him balloons, so I'm 
pretty sure if anyone would know if something has a soul, it's a soul- 
eating Elder God. We ended up going to another dimension with 
more reasonable lot fees, and they got to see me ride my unicycle 
upside down. 


“| don't want to talk about otherworldly demons though. It's kind of a 
downer. | wanna talk about fun stuff. You sell magic stuff for Emcee 
D right? What’s the coolest magical thing you’ve ever sold?” 


"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to divulge information about our wares to 
anyone that's not a potential customer." 


"I'm a potential customer. Just because | use a piggy bank instead 
of a real bank doesn't mean my money's any less good.” 


"|...have no argument for that. | do happen to have a catalogue with 
me," he said, opening his briefcase. "| guess it can't hurt for you to 
look at it, as long as you promise to give it to Manny or the 
Ringmaster." 


"Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye," she swore 
dutifully before eagerly snatching the catalogue. "Wow, this is a lot 
fancier looking than Wondertainment's catalogue." 


"There is a section for Wondertainment's products that we carry, 
starting on page 33, however a great many of our offerings are 
handcrafted by some of the most skilled anartists known to..." 


"120 bucks for a bubblebath bonbon! Are you nuts?" 


"We are Wondertainment's exclusive distributors for that product, so 
without any competition the market value is rather high." 


"We give better stuff than this away for prizes. People actually pay 
over a hundred dollars for one piece of magic candy?" 


"Well as you yourself said, magic's depressingly hard to come by 
outside of your, lovely, circus. Our clients are normally more than 
willing to pay our prices." 


"You know, Icky got me Ragamuffin from Emcee D," she said as she 
casually flipped through the slender catalogue. 


"...Ragamuffin?" 


"Oh my god! You have to meet my dolly!" she shouted excitedly, 
throwing the catalogue on the desk and running over to what 
appeared to be a Tim Burtonesque dollhouse and pulled out a 
purple haired rag doll with button eyes dressed in a similar manner 
to herself. 


“This is my dolly Ragamuffin. She’s a magic dolly and a lot of bad 
things could have happened to her if she had ended up in the hands 
of the Essie P or any of the other bad people who kill or lock up 
freaks,” she said as she sat back down beside him. “That’s why 
she’s normally very shy around strangers and just acts like an 
ordinary doll, but she’s not. It’s a bit of a shame because I'd like to 
do some acts with her, but | love her the way she is. Icky got her for 
me. | had come here with nothing but the clothes on my back and 
some cash in my pocket, and she said a girl needed a doll, and | 
deserved the most special dolly she could find. Her contact at 
Emcee D was who she called to get me that doll. 


“| Know you probably didn’t care about giving her a loving home and 
would have sold her to whoever offered first, but I’m grateful that you 
were the ones that found her since you’re probably the only group 
out there that would have sold her in the first place. 


“My point is, even though you charge way too much for candy, I'm 
glad we're business partners. Ragamuffin, don’t you agree?” She 
held the doll to her ear as if it was whispering to her. Victor would 


have been a little unnerved by a grown woman pretending to talk to 
a doll, but was more unnerved by the indistinct murmurs that 
seemed to emanate from the toy. “Ragamuffin says that your people 
treated her very well and she’s very thankful that she ended up with 
me in the Circus instead of being experimented on at the Essie P, 
but she’s still too shy to talk to you.” 


“Another time perhaps,” Victor smiled. He became aware that voices 
were approaching the tent. 


“Manny, if you won't get rid of the elephant then we'll have to stop 
having booze on site because no matter what we do she always 
gets into it,” he heard a woman say. 


“l’ll send the damn thing to AA if | have to, but so long as she brings 
in more than she costs, she stays,” he heard Manny reply. “After all, 
she... 


“Don't say it!” 
“...works for peanuts.” 


The woman sighed, and then walked into the tent alongside Manny. 
She was quite obviously the Ringmaster, dressed in a long-tailed 
red velvet coat and tall high heeled boots. She wore a top hat upon 
her long black hair, though for some reason it reminded Victor more 
of a magician’s hat than a Ringmaster’s. Her skin was the same 
porcelain white as the Clowns’, but her elaborate violet makeup was 
closer to Cirque du Soleil than the Ringling Bros. aesthetic the rest 
of the Circus seemed to follow. Victor also couldn’t help but note that 
she had a very pronounced, almost cartoonish hourglass figure. He 
glanced over at Mr. Noodles and his numerous exaggerated 
features, and figured they had both been shaped the way they were 
for the enjoyment of others. 


“Icky!” Lolly cried excitedly, leaping from her chair and throwing 
herself into the Ringmaster’s arms. 


“Easy there little Lollipop. | see someone’s had her serving of Milk 
for the day. Good girl,” she praised her. “How’s our guest?” 


“He’s still a little bit nervous, but that’s to be expected for a 
Humdrum. He’s really nice though. Come say hello.” 


“There he is, straight from the Deathless Merchant of London,” the 
Ringmaster said as she approached her desk. 


“I’ve been told never to call him that, but yes, | am from Marshall, 
Carter, & Dark,” Victor said, standing up to shake her hand. The 
Ringmaster instead grabbed his face and seemed to inspect him, a 
manic gleam in her bright purple eyes. She smiled, her perfect white 
teeth confirming that she was indeed a Clown. 


“Excellent. Very pretty. | see your bosses got the memo that | like 
"em young. So much cuter than that old fart from the London Office. 
What’s his name, Bourgeois?” 


“Burgess,” Manny replied. 
“Close enough,” the Ringmaster shrugged. 
“Icky, | think you’re scaring him,” Lolly said. 


“You're right. I’m sorry,” the Ringmaster said, releasing Victor from 
her unnaturally strong clutches. “I should be more professional. You 
may address me as Ms. Ringmaster, young man. That sounds very 
professional, | think. Of course, when you hear people talking about 
Icky they’re talking me. Icky the Magic Clown was my act before | 
was the Ringmaster. And of course, Manny here insists on calling 
me Veronica, my boring Humdrum name. | don’t know why. Do | 
look normal to you?” 


“Don’t go asking questions that are liable to start a fight,” Manny 
objected. “We’re both busy and you called this boy here for a 
reason, so let’s get to it.” 


“You're right. Sit back down young man,” the Ringmaster said. Victor 
quickly obliged, and the Ringmaster sat across from him. She 
poured herself a tumbler of Milk from the bottle and drank it in one 
gulp, shouting and slamming her palm on the desktop. She poured 
herself a second glass, but proceeded to sip it normally. Lolly sat 
herself on the Ringmaster’s lap, placing her arm over her shoulder 


like she was visiting Santa Claus. Manny stood to their right, while 
Mr. Noodles stood right behind Victor, ready to intervene should he 
start any funny business with his employers. 


“Whenever you're ready,” the Ringmaster said. Victor began 
fumbling with his briefcase and pulled out a manila folder. 


“As per your request, | have compiled a dossier containing the SCP 
files of all your Circus’s former assets that, to our knowledge, are 
currently being held by the SCP Foundation,” he said, sliding the 
folder over to her. “If there are any there you would like to retrieve, 
our contacts within the Foundation can provide additional 
intelligence regarding the containment facilities and personnel or 
arrange for security system failures. The price for our assistance will 
be that during your recovery operation you also retrieve for us an 
SCP object of our choosing from that same facility.” 


“We are not antagonizing the Essie P!” Manny growled through his 
teeth. 


“Yeah, | don’t like the Essie P. They’re mean,” Lolly said. “They lock 
up freaks just for being freaks. That’s not right. Clowns are meant to 
make people happy, and | can't do that if they lock me up.” 


“You have nothing to worry about darling,” the Ringmaster claimed. 
“With the Kaleidoscope, we can travel through any door we want, 
and with Emcee D’s operatives we won't even have to worry about 
being caught on camera. They'll never know it was us, especially 
since we'll be stealing something else while we’re at it. Perfect 
prestidigitation, which as a magician I’m pretty good at.” 


“| know what you're doing,” Manny claimed. “You think that if you 
spring a freak or two from the Essie P and bring them home the rest 
of the freaks will love you as much as the Clowns do, and then you 
won't need me anymore to keep them in line.” 


“Manny, I’m not Herman,” the Ringmaster assured him. “I’m not 
trying to get rid of you. You’ve been with the Circus longer than 
anyone; you know it better than anyone. This Circus couldn't exist 
without you, and no one here wants it to, especially me. Herman 
may not have meant it when he said that the Circus was family, but | 


do. You’re my family Manny, along with everyone else here, and 
that’s why | want to do this. Sure, it will be good for morale, but we 
owe it to our Little Acts Lost to at least make sure they’re okay, and 
to help them if they’re not. The Circus is a family, and family stays 
together.” 


Manny made a gesture which Victor guessed was a face-palm, but 
due to his upside-down face it looked more like he was stroking his 
chin. 


“If | may interject something, the Ringmaster is right that there’s no 
danger in antagonizing the Foundation in this manner,” Victor said. 
“Marshall, Carter, & Dark has been pinching items for decades 
without any consequence. The Foundation has actual world-ending 
threats they must contain. They can’t be bothered to chase down 
every anomalous trinket that goes missing. They are already aware 
of both our organizations but do very little besides espionage. 
Besides, if all goes as planned, they'll never even know that either of 
us was involved.” 


“Manny, we don’t need to be afraid of the Essie P. We have the 
Kaleidoscope for quick getaways, and the Fortune Teller as an early 
warning system,” the Ringmaster said. “Essie can’t touch us. What 
do we have to lose?” 


Manny let out a long sigh. 
“Open the file at least. We might as well have a look at it." 


The Ringmaster squealed with delight and greedily snatched the file 
from the desk. Victor noticed that her eyes moved rapidly over each 
page, and he guessed that she was speed reading. 


“Let’s see...No, too stinky, too grabby, a lawsuit waiting to happen. 
Hmm...Motormouth.” 


“Oh, | liked Motormouth. He taught me to juggle,” Lolly said. 
“Everyone liked Motormouth,” the Ringmaster said wistfully. 


“Not him. He’s not coming back, not after that stunt he pulled,” 
Manny said firmly. 


“| Know,” the Ringmaster agreed, despondently turning the page. 
“Though maybe you should have taken the machine gun out of his 
mouth before turning him over.” 


“Ooh, can we get Meaty the Meatworm back? That was so much 
fun!” Lolly asked. "It went so fast and so high and so many loopty 
loops and upside down and sideways and backwards like schoom 
schoom schoom schoom! Also it was sticky." 


“We can’t operate the machine safely without Charley,” Manny said. 
“He’s not still kicking around, is he?” 


“No, he...blew himself up. Huh,” the Ringmaster said. “Moving on. 
Viscera and confetti? What a mess. Can't blame him for being 
pissed. Cancer? That sucks. We should send him a card or 
something." 


She turned to the next page, and her eyes went wide. 
“Virtuoso,” she said softly. “They have Virtuoso.” 
“Who’s that Icky?” Lolly asked. 


“He was a creation of Fuller's. He had the most beautiful voice. Well, 
lots of voices actually. He sang constantly, it was what he lived for. | 
would sit by his cage for hours, just listening to him sing. | spoke to 
him too, | spoke to him like he couldn't understand me because | 
didn't think he could. But one night | came to him after Herman had 
caned me, | don't even remember what for, but | do remember | was 
still crying. Virtuoso finished his song, but instead of going straight to 
the next one as usual he looked straight at me and said two words: 
‘Any requests ?’. | was stunned and just muttered if he knew any 
Gilbert and Sullivan. He nodded, and sang the entire score of the 
H.M.S Pinafore for me. 


"From then on when | talked to him he would listen, humming as 
quietly as he could, and speak back if he felt he had something 
worth saying. He'd sing silly songs for me, I'd sing duets with him, 
bring him flowers. | was his number one fan, and he was my friend.” 


The Ringmaster inhaled sharply as tears began rolling down her 


face. Lolly offered her more Milk, but she pushed the glass away. 


"| thought he was dead," she continued. "I thought Herman had 
burned him alive. There was an accident. Virtuoso's covering was 
pierced during a performance and all his voices deafened most of 
the audience. After that Herman decided he was a liability to be 
disposed of. | cried myself to sleep for weeks after that. But he's 
alive! He survived the fire and ended up with the Essie P! He's been 
locked up all this time. He was made to sing, he was meant to be 
heard, and those bastards have him locked in a soundproof room 
singing to himself! We can't let him live like that Manny.”