by The Eurostar
Edulcore Cicciotto:
"A circus is the perfect place for freaks like us."
The answer Tobias gave to M'xy continues to play in my mind. Is that what we really are? Freaks? Poor, unfortunate people born with a genetic defect? Should I be ashamed of what I am? No. This metagene is a gift. I can use it for good, or I can hide it, but nobody can judge me for what I am.
I don't know why the American government is trying to capture most, maybe all the metahumans. They say metas are crooks, but Tobias, for sure, was not. The land of the free, they say. It doesn't seem the case.
We found the circus late in the morning. I presented myself as the manager of our theatre group, and told Mr. Wong, the circus owner, a complicated fake story about us, ending by asking for a job.
The owner examined our abilities, considered our potential, and finally asked me to go into his office, a big caravan parked on the opposite side of the camp from the lion's pens.
"At first I had the impression you were metas on the run, Mr. Sardella," Wong said, referring to the fake name I gave for myself. "But," he continued, "no metas on the loose would travel the country with a trained cat. It was your Li'l Jo that reassured me. The job is yours."
So, thanks to Tobias' stinky cat, we have a job, a shelter, and hot meals every day. We are adjusting greatly to the circus life, and now we have also fancy costumes of real material, that will not fade away when M'xy sneezes. The only thing that bothers me is Nowhereman and his split personality.
On the bright side, today I have discovered that soon the circus will leave Chicago and head for Thunder City, where my son is kept prisoner.