The Guards (Dark Woods Circus/Hollywood Undead Crossover Part 1)
"Oh you're here! You're here!"
They watched as people slowly flooded into the main tent. Some looked scared shitless while other people looked like children curious whether or not they would get a rare Pokémon card. The two men, standing at eight feet tall, loomed over the crowd. One, donning a helmet that covered his entire head, the other wearing a bandana with a chilling smile painted on it. As the last of the crowd filed into the tent, one person caught the guard's eyes. He was only a child, probably ten or eleven years old. He was tall, oh so very tall for a kid. Slouched over, as if trying to hide from any suspecting eyes, quickly shuffled to the tent and made it inside right before the two guards closed the curtains. The two men looked at each other, wondering why that kid was hanging back. The one with the bandanna cocked his head to the side and shrugged. With their curiosity at its peak, they opened the curtains and silently slid into the tent.
The tent was a massive oval, large enough to accompany around two thousand people. The guards hid in the back covering the curtains and staying out of the light of the candles. The candles glowed an eerie teal color, going out for a few seconds then relighting. The tent buzzed with activity, people chatted and shifted around while waiting for someone to explain why they were here. The guards waited for their master, The Ringleader, to enter and entertain these people. Both hated seeing the other acts being treated so poorly, but what were they to do? They couldn't escape, that would be suicide. All they could do was comfort them, after all they were treated just as horribly as the acts. People made fun of and threw money and trash at them as they passed. The helmeted one let out a muffled sigh and lowered his head. He hated it here, all of them did.
Booming footsteps radiated in the tent, silencing the crowd quite quickly and blowing out the teal candles. A spotlight shot down to the center floor and a set deep purple boots glittered in the light. A black gas filled the room. It had the smell of smoke but the consistency of a light fog. The black gas swirled around the boots, shooting upwards about six and a half feet. The gas took shape forming two long, skinny arms a skeletal body. Once the gas settled around the boots, the spotlight burnt out and a voice filled the room. "Welcome my guests!" it said enthusiastically and a pair of large orbs glowed high above the crowd. The spotlight was covered with a blue filter and shinned an eerie light on the figure in the center. He wore a midnight blue tuxedo with a deep purple top hat. The orbs, which could easily be seen now as his eyes, smoldered like fire. Moving swiftly, he turned to face everyone in the tent.
"Tonight we will be showing, the sad fate that some of this world carry. Children that God has abandoned restlessly creeping out. Children who can't even carry the trembling limbs that they were born with, their shaking tongues even accidentally cry out. The crowns of their head that caress the dark clouds, they smile as they dream of their mothers embrace."
He gestured to the farther end of the tent where the curtains were pulled back, revealing a corridor. A dark laugh emitted from his throat. "So, drop by and see them." He said and laughed manically throwing his head back, letting the blue light reflect off his mask covered in small mirrors. The gas picked up again, swirled around him and flew through the corridor, taking The Ringleader with it.
The guards went through the entrance and walked quickly to the storage tent. Inside the tent, they were out of sight for a while. While the show went on, Ringleader would be so distracted by the guests and making sure the acts stay in line, he wouldn't even notice they were gone. The guard with the bandanna tapped the other's shoulder. Getting his attention, he saw that the other one had a half full pack of cigarettes. The guards' hidden smiles faded when they realized they didn't have anything to light it with, or so they thought. The guard with the helmet threw his hands behind his head, searching for the clasp that held his helmet together. Brushing his scarred fingers across the back of his head, he found the bump where the clasp was hidden from sight. Digging his fingers into the sides of the bump he pulled on the clasp, desperately trying to break it apart. The other guard noticed him struggling, and lifted his long arms around his neck so that he could try to help, unknowingly causing his friend to shiver slightly.
