Familiar Pact

4. Showtime!

Night falls, the circus settles to silence. Tomorrow the crowds will come and the show will commence.

I look forward to stretching my legs. There will be a run through in the morning, and the first performance will begin at one.

The short walk to and from the big top is the only time I will feel the sun unhindered by the dappling of a cage. Whenever I step out blinking into the sun, I feel almost free. Until, the weight of my collar and the cajoling words of Scammer sink in binding me back into the depths, to the realities of my situation.

The performance will be demeaning, as always.

Scammer, my handler, will lead me collared and chained into the arena, before releasing the chains so I can roll over and jump through hoops in time to music along with the other three big cats here. At least I'm not big enough for someone to try to ride me as they do Taka, the lion shifter. I remember when he used to try to maul those who did that. The Ringmaster use to pass by and watch from the stands, his face impassive as if contemplating scenery, not the panic and beatings and blood.

Then Taka managed to take out someone's eye and knock over a hoop that was somehow still on fire into the tent... well, needless to say rehearsal was cancelled... it was glorious mayhem! I was inwardly gleeful, even as I stilled, then all I could feel was sound of my heartbeat thumping staccato in my ears, a thousand pounds of dread dragging on my heart and chest. I remember sinking into an abyss of despair, wondering if my life would even be worth anything, or if I was always going to be worthless and irrelevant. The realisation that I did not matter to the world, and that the world also had no deeper meaning. It was just superficial and cruel and humans were just ants eking out an existence on its surface because we were too much of a coward to just say we were done and die! Too scared of the unknown, yet too ineffectual to do anything about the known. I was drowning in a miasma of depression and hopelessness...
and then I wasn't.

And Ringmaster was standing.

You could almost see magic radiating off him, warping through the air in distorted ribbons. He was angry, and yet still so calm, like the moment just before a storm breaks and the downpour starts. That was when I realised exactly how terrifying his power was. Despite knowing he can control emotions, I didn't even think to wonder if what I was experiencing were my true emotions. I didn't notice at all until it was over.

Ringmaster took both Taka and his handler for training. I don't think either returned sane.

There is a small sideshow we take turns performing at. It's painful to be gawked at, and treated like a dangerous beast by scared parents and inquisitive children. To be poked and prodded by daredevil teens. At least I'm allowed to act as an animal and snarl when they do that. They show a documentary of my species; supposedly I'm a melanistic leopard likely from the Malay Peninsula, though in my case I have a fake background of being born in captivity from the pet of some imaginary billionaire. They sell some sob story about how Scammer has cared for me since I was a year old as I wouldn't survive if they released me back into the wild.

The audience is smaller than usual the first night, likely due to the fact that this was a last minute change of route. I'm still curious about that; the last time it due to a hurricane, but we had all heard the gossip immediately. This time no-one is talking. The audience make up for their smaller number with the cacophony of shouts and screams they produce. I think Ringmaster is working doubly hard on their emotions tonight to make sure of good reviews. There is thunderous applause at the end of my act anyway, which makes me proud even as my insides twist in self-loathing.

"That's it for our big cats tonight folks. Give it up for our black panther, Bagheera, and his handler, the beautiful Miss Delilah"
I bow as much as a big cat can, before being led out by Scammer.

I decided the very first time they tried to train me that if they were giving me a new name, I would give each of them a new name too. I find it humiliating that I now respond so easily to the name Bagheera, even as I try to tell myself that it's certainly not the worst name they could have chosen. I try to pretend it's like a gaming handle on one of the MOBA's I used to play. Though that feels so far in the past, so alien compared to my life now. I don't want to think of the past, or the future. I just have to survive. I do wonder if I'll hit a tipping point, where the suffering outweighs hope so much that I'll be drowning and won't even see the surface. A point where death and hope become intertwined. For now I just tell myself I can bend, crack a little, but I will not shatter.

Ringleader continues his prattle, and the show goes on.

Days keep coming, and the routine repeats. The mages are busier and therefore distracted whilst the circus is in town. Food is served regularly, I get to leave my cage, even if it is for a bigger one on display, and the lorries are washed down to minimise the smell, and any worries about animal cruelty.

The circus stays for a week.