Action Smackdown 1.1

Words - 3,011

Pictures - 3,4,7 and 8.

Quote - “If you try to run, I’ve got six little friends and they can all run faster than you can.”

Anyone who has worked within a group, will tell tales of harmless pranks, all the way to full blown shenanigans. Most office pranks consisting of hiding someone's chair, gluing a pencil to a desk or a coin to the floor. But when your work place isn't an office and your tools are not pencils, the work environment can quickly become a dangerous playground.

The circus rolled into town, taking the longer route so as to best advertise their presence. It was a small community and having a circus visit was a large deal, children stared as the trailers rolled past, tugging at their parents sleeves pleadingly. The local mayor had dutifully organized the towns only grass oval for the travelling troupe to set up, with the only proviso that they be gone before the Sunday arvo football match was scheduled.

The Flying Monkey was not your average kind of circus, (that being if you took all the worlds circuses, rated them from one to ten, added them all together and divided them by their own number), kind of average. They were more average in the quality kind of way, mostly that they had none.

Most of the staff had been expelled from other circuses for one thing or another some for minor or petty theft others for more dubious actions. Their equipment was old, much of it makeshift, some even engineered by people who didn't pass year ten maths let alone an engineering degree. The owner and ringmaster himself not turning enough profit to repair even the most basic of issues.

It was for this very reason he had just registered himself in the animal rescue group. Most of his own animals being so old that you could audibly hear the lions creak every time they jumped and the elephant so wrinkled that it was beginning to lose its recognizable shape. (For something shaped like a large grey blob, it was an achievement indeed.)

Still, it was with a cheerful vigor that they set up shop, erecting tents and fencing. Letting the animals stretch their arthritic legs, while the workers set about constructing the bleachers and various contraptions. Maybe there was a little too much cheer or maybe it was the vigor that set in motion a dangerous set of foreseeable events.

It was these events that the smallest of the group had for some time been complaining about. He stood before the ringmaster's desk inside the mans trailer admiring the mans taste in decor.

"With all due respect." Greedo the dwarf began. "The pranks have to stop."

"Frodo." The ringmaster, who's real name was Michael, addressed his employee incorrectly "I'm not sure what you're expecting me to do about it."

"It's Greedo." The dwarf corrected him. "Like in Star Wars and I just want you to get the guys to tone it down a bit. I understand that it's just blowing off steam but it's going too far."

"They are a bunch of clowns." Mic the ringmaster brushed him off. "Don't worry about it... It's all a bit of harmless fun."

"Last week they stole my clothes to dress up a dummy, which they saddled to the Alsatian. I had to chase it around in my underwear... In front of the audience." Greedo pleaded. "It was embarrassing."

"I thought that was your act." Mic smiled remembering. "That was the funniest thing in the whole show."

"It's all fun and games till someone gets hurt." The small man gestured to his large scar running across his face.

"There isn't anything I can do Greedy." The ringmaster replied dismissively.

"Have you thought of writing some of these things into your act, it might give your performance a bit of zing."

Greedo gave the ringmaster a stern stare before turning his back on the man and leaving. If he couldn't do anything about the bullying and constant harassment then so be it. 'Let the escalation begin!' He smiled on the inside.

Opening night rolled around fast and the townsfolk came in droves, despite the recent snowfall. Braving the cold they meandered through the side shows and various stalls taking in the weird and the wondrous. Eventually the bleacher were full and the stage set as Mic the Ringmaster announced the start of the main event.

Samuel lay on the snow with his sister Pauline, gripping their rapiers, knuckles white from the cold. It was exciting to be included as part of the show, a shiver running up his spine and he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or not, either way he didn't care.

Their father the lion tamer did not approv of them being mere clowns or acrobats. Samuel knew he would never approve of even such a minor role, which was why he had jumped at the chance when the dwarf had offered.

The ring masters announcement finished and the troupe began to file into the ring. First the trapeze followed by the strongman and their father the lion tamer. Finally when all the others had taken their place came the clowns, driving a tiny makeshift car.

Samuel stood brushing the snow from his coat and giving a hand to his sister.

Creeping to the tent flaps he watched as the car spewed smoke and spluttered around the barrier, clowns poking from every orifice as it slowly came to rest before spewing funny men everywhere.

Whipping the tent aside Samuel led the charge stabbing his rapier into the backside of his target. The mans howl was soon matched by another as his sister hit her target close by.

The rapier sunk several inches with ease, just as the dwarf had said it would and the performer set about his performance leaping and dancing even falling to the ground to drag his ass along the grass like a dog.

A roar went up from the crowd and Samuel basked in the feeling of a well executed stunt, before setting off on a lap, his sister close behind. The pack of clowns went into a frenzy behind him, giving chase and yelling threats as a nagging thought entered Samuel's quite slow brain. What if he had missed the padding?

He struck the thought from his head, surely they would stop the show if such an accident occurred and the clowns were acting exactly how the dwarf had said they would, he rationalized. Still it didn't stop him from picking up his pace a little and when they had finished the lap and were safely outside in the fresh air, he insisted they make a hasty exit to his trailer, not wanting to hang around, just in case.

Greedo watched with a sick glee as the innocent boy and his sister had stuck the two meanest performers he had ever known. The pesky clowns did not know what to do next or how to take it, and the crowd loved it. Even ringmaster Mic had a smile, not that he was even aware of the gravity of the situation brewing. Reginald the lion tamer wasn't smiling however, he had watched as his own flesh and blood had made fools of themselves and Greedo reveled in his anguish and anger as he stood caged before his own act was to begin.

Wally had never felt such pain in all his life, even now the deep puncture bled and ached with the ferocity of a tiger. Bill, who was also known as Wild Bill on occasion fared no better. There would be blood in return for this, Wally swore to it, all he needed now was a suitable ploy. The boy was stupid there was no doubt about that, someone had put him up to it and he had a good idea who. The clown paced back and forth, sitting being too painful and standing was almost as unbearable.

"It must have been the old man." Wild Bill grumbled. "But why?"

"He accused me of stealing, a few shows ago." Wally snarled. "It was him alright."

"So what are we going to do about it." Bill spat into the blood stained hay.

"He's out there now, working up a storm with those flea bag lions." Wally smirked, still holding his rump. "What's say we go make it a hurricane. Round up the gang and grab some of those bangers."

Bill didn't argue, instead he gathered the rest of the clowns of which the circus had quite a few. Quickly arming them all with various fire works and penny bangers. After making sure everyone had a lighter, they marched into the rink where Wally was already circling the lions cage. The air was electric with tension and the crowd was eating it up. After a quick huddle they surrounded the cage as Wally worked the crowd with skill, pushing them to the edge of their seats.

As animatedly as humanly possible Wally held the large banger up for the crowd to see, a shiver of satisfaction running down his spine as the crowd let out a collective gasp. He didn't have to see the lion man to know the look of dread on his face. With an evil grin the large painted man lit the fuse, letting it smoke and crackle down to a stub before launching it into the cage.

The explosion was quickly followed by a large cloud of smoke through which lions leapt and roared in a panicked frenzy. Reginald the lion tamer ducked and weaved as angry orange balls of fur flew about the cage. The cats sudden lease of life caught the caged performer off guard as quickly it took him down biting at his leg furiously.

Another bang rocked the cage, sending the lion scurrying away before he had done too much damage. Wally flashed Wild Bill a big smile as the lions circled their shaking mark while he cracked his whip. With another smile and a nod to the rest of the gang, willy let loose the last of the bangers, delighting at the panicked look the pompous Reginald gave off. Like a coward he dived for the escape hatch dropping under the cage floor and disappearing from sight.

Wally watched in shock as an explosion splintered the floor sending wood flying and lions scurrying through the now open return door. He didn't have time to think before a very angry Reginald came crawling from beneath the stage. The bangers had been a bit too much but Wally still ached in the ass and he was going to see this through. With a signal to his comrades they unloaded the pies.

The infuriated look on Reginald's face only made Wally smile more as the old coot yelled something while drawing his prop weapon. It was to be a short lived joyous moment, as the clown watched as the lion tamer shot Wild Bill dead. Keeping his head down Wally ran, it was not the first time in his life that he run away, while bullets whistled past his head.

"Jesus Christ." One of the clowns swore when they were outside the main tent. "That bastard shot Bill."

"We need to take him out." Sneered one of the younger ruffians.

"How do you plan to do that?" Piped in another.

It was then that Wally noticed the fallen form of Jumbo and something in the hardened man snapped. Jumbo had not enjoyed the excitement, his old heart giving out the poor beast. Meanwhile inside the tent the ringmaster was starting to become concerned. The cage seemed to have taken some damage and one of the clowns still hadn't gotten up. More concerning was the audience, who were no longer excited but more and more it was looking like they were becoming concerned. The whole thing was concerning and snowballing fast. Having never stopped a train wreck before, as well as being completely incompetent, Mic the ringmaster could only watch as events unfolded.

Reginald had always hated the clowns, sure they looked good from the grand stand with their smiling faces, but he was the one who got to see them close up. Their pissed expressions as they performed hidden under layers of zink. Clowns were the lowest of the low, and he would go so far as to say that anyone could do their job, the more bumbling the better. But this time they had gone too far.

The clowns advanced holding cream pies, sure his whip was hardly lethal but to fight with pies, he almost felt bad for them. That was until the first pie hit him up the side the head, spreading cream across his vision as two more attacked from the side. A volley hit him and quickly he found himself surrounded as they came from all directions. Reginald's initial shock turning quickly to anger, wiping at the cream from his eye, he flinched as shards of glass sliced into his flesh.

"Bastards!" He spat at them while pulling his show revolver from its holster. Throwing pies was one thing but glass, they dared attack him physically. "If you try to run, I've got six little friends and they can all run faster than you can." He screamed.

Before he had even finished they were already scrambling away in every direction. The pistol cracked, sending lead into the one called Bill, dropping him face down in the grass. Firing wildly he watched them scramble out of the tent and away. He had never had to use the pistol before and he kept it a secret that he carried live ammo. He would deal with the consequences later, for now he wanted a swift retribution.

"Clown cannon." Someone roared from outside.

The clown cannon was little more than a spring loaded tube designed to push an idiot out into the air and preferably into a net. At best it could hurl a hundred kilos with accuracy good enough to hit the broad side of a barn. it was hardly a weapon to be feared. Backing up Reginald watched as the stupid clowns lit the pointless fuse, mocking him more.

The cannon exploded not in the usual manner at all, Reginald didn't see much as a disembodied elephant leg hit him comically in the face, shattering his bones and snapping his neck. The clowns didn't fare the best either, most of them had gathered with glee to fire the gnarly trophy they had taken from the downed elephant. The cannon which was never supposed to hold an actual explosion, shattered at the back sending shrapnel flying in all directions. If it hadn't been for the spring the leg would have sat in the tube uselessly. With the springs help, the explosion blasted it free but not quickly enough to stop the back blowing out.

As the smoke cleared the battle ground was littered with injured and dying performers. While Reginald the lion tamer lay dead, the elephant's stump left standing upright one last time on the dead mans face.

The audience sat in a stunned silence as the smoke swirled and hung in the air. While most of them had never seen a circus before, this was not what was expected. The urge to see what happens next was starting to be overpowered by a strong feeling that it might be safer to read about it in tomorrow's paper.

Anton stood above the action high up on the trapeze, below he watched as things went bat shit crazy. People were starting to leave and Micheal the ringmaster was waving frantically for him to do something. Like anything he could do would top the craziness that had already transpired below. Signalling to the others to start the routine he watched as they powdered their hands in preparation.

"Cut the theatrics for this one." He addressed his partner on the same platform and signalled to the other two opposite.

Something groaned badly as the platform suddenly lurched to one side. Looking down Anton watched as one of the makeshift struts buckled and twisted under the strain. Whatever had gone on below them had weakened the structure, probably the stupid clowns explosions, he thought to himself.

"Go now!" He urged his partner, already feeling the shift.

His partner swung away just as the platform tilted, putting him on his ass and sending him sliding to the edge. By a miracle he managed to hang on, dangling clear of their safety net, while his partner made it safely across. The audience below gave up a gasp as he struggled with all his might to pull himself up. The platform complained about its new position, which was not structurally sound at all and gave way sending Anton into a plummet.

A tight grip grabbed at his ankles as the tower crashed into a twisted heap inside the arena. For a long moment he couldn't breath as the crowd let out an almighty cheer and confetti cannons exploded in a grand finale. The show was over and so was the circus life for Anton, he breathed a sigh of relief as he hung waiting for someone to throw him a line.

Ringmaster Michael felt a sudden explosion at his back strong enough to propel him forward and send his cigar somersaulting from his hand. Debris went whipping past him while he staggered forward, trying to keep his footing. The ringing in his ears didn't drown out his internal voice.

"Someone just shot me with a confetti cannon." It yelled at him.

True, someone had just fired the cannon straight into his back, the same cannon used to blast the crowd with crappy pieces of recycled paper.

Turning around he faced his attacker, who despite his short stature was standing on a small crate still holding the lighter with a large grin across his scared face.

"Why you litt..." He started, as he took a step before stopping to look at his midriff. The six foot javelin seemed to extend a good three foot in front of him. The shock kept him standing for another few seconds before his body gave way and the ground rushed up to meet him.

Greedo took a modest bow, backing away into a dark corner of the big top and crawling under the canvas. As a dwarf there would always be another circus job, but this time he thought to himself, 'I might try for television.'