A good distance from the tents, and for good reason as well, stood a man who wore a Tuscan red zoot suit with his matching hat, a small bottle rocket in place of the feather that was the norm of those who wore such things. In his hands were a trio of Roman candles, all of them remaining to be lit in front of an anxious crowd. "<span style="color: red">Hey hey, watch as Sol, your master pyrotechnician, risks life and limb to impress a crowd!</span>" He looked at the crowd, taking his eyes from the fireworks for just a moment, a sly grin coming across his face. "<span style="color: red">They don't necessarily have to be mine, you know...</span>" he added mischievously as he spat a small gout of flame at the candles as they came down in intervals of one second apiece. The crowd took several steps back.<br/><br/>Angelo, as his real name was, began to do a few tricks with the candles as they fired off. Some of them went behind his back, others under his leg, but each time he managed to time it just right to take hold of it and point it at an angle above the crowd, barely clearing their heads without setting anybody alight. Though the colors and sparks that trailed the balls were impressive, that wasn't what Angelo had in mind. For the last ball in each of the candles, he pointed it up at the perfect angle as they fired off, each one sparking to life the fuse of a large rocket that had been perched a good ways above him on small wooden poles. The lengths of each fuse had been lengthened just right, so as to make them all fire off in unison. They all shot into the starry sky, bursting into the shapes of an S, O and an L, his name spelled out across the darkness in brilliant scarlet.<br/><br/>On the other side of the big top, the freak show, dubbed<i>It's A Strange, Strange World: Unnatural Oddities</i>, was being prepared. Among the workers was a woman known as Agatha; she wore a dark poncho that had glimmering lines of the faintest silver scattered about the faded black cloth. She was readying a cage that held a three-headed cow for display when she saw a young man and his feminine consort walking about. The girl was wide-eyed and giddy as she walked by in the arm of her boyfriend, who seemed to be quite disgusted by the giant albino scorpions that pressed themselves against the glass of their terrarium menacingly. Agatha walked up to them with the softest of steps, speaking with a modest voice. She said politely, "<span style="color: purple">You shouldn't be here just yet. We aren't quite prepared.</span>"<br/><br/>The young man made a 'pffft' at her. Her voice grew a tad more pleading. "<span style="color: purple">No really, you need to leave...</span>"<br/><br/>The girl laughed at her, while the boy said, "<span style="color: blue">Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it? You probably belong with those freaks in the cages, not even human or some crap. Back off, freak.</span>"<br/><br/>Agatha looked to the ground timidly. "<span style="color: purple">You're right...</span><span style="color: purple"><i>I probably do</i>.</span>" At the last words, her voice became a rattling hiss, and she turned to the couple, her fangs bared and six lean arms protruding from her poncho. The pair fled, looks of horror upon their faces. The boy had bailed at such a pace that the girl was left eating his dust, and Agatha called out to her as the girl followed weakly, "<span style="color: purple">Some partner, isn't he?</span>"<br/><br/>She gave a somewhat melancholic sigh as she turned and went back to work.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>