All The World's A Stage (CptPeriwinkle&Mdm Mim)

"Now ladies and gentlemen, if you will turn your gaze skyward you may be able to spot the rare, delicate Russian bird as she gracefully soars from branch to branch, delighting the eye even as she defies gravity." The ringmaster's voice sounded through the microphone as he gestured with a flourish up toward the supports of the tent. "But what's this? She is a little shy tonight; she does not want to fly."

The spotlight fell on Natasha up in the rafters. Makeup around her eyes glittered in the light as she took a deep breath before stepping onto the thin wire in front of her. Her foot wiggled a little but she stayed steady. She got out to the middle of the wire and the audience gasped as she flipped forward onto her hands. Gripping the wire she slowly turned a circle before taking one hand from the wire and holding it out to the side. Bending at the waist, she held her legs out parallel to the ground for a few moments before bringing her feet back to the wire and standing, holding her arms out in a finish. Balancing herself once more she started to walk to the support opposite from where she had started.

"Careful, little bird," the ringmaster's voice warned, though he was no longer in the ring below her, "you don't want to fall!"

At his words the wire began to wiggle back and forth dangerously. Natasha's mouth opened in surprise and she put her arms out to steady herself. The audience cried out in alarm and concern for her safety; there was no net below to catch her if she fell. Several women and children screamed as Natasha's feet slipped and she tumbled toward earth.

But midair she turned a sommersault and seemed almost to float for a moment before reaching out to catch a trapeze bar, the sheer chiffon skirt around her full leotard clinging to her legs before she tucked and rolled between bars. The audience gasped and applauded as she turned several flips between bars. Her knees were curled around one bar as she gripped the other. Hanging between the two bars for a moment she let go with her legs and swung up to the platform and took a brief bow in the spotlight before climbing down.

"Ah, such a graceful bird, eh?" The ringmaster chuckled.

"You were a bit late," Natasha mumbled with a scowl. "I almost missed."

Barry, who was in charge of her cue for the bar, shrugged. "Not like you woulda been hurt," he said, unconcerned.

"No, but then we'd have news crews from all over the world wanting to know how a girl like me survived a two hundred foot fall yes?" Natasha scowled as her feet touched the ground and she stalked off. It wasn't the first time Barry had been late and she was beginning to wonder whether he was testing her, and if it was just for fun or on someone's orders.

"I swear, one of these days he'll go too far and then everything will all be his fault," Natasha grumbled, mostly to herself as she pushed aside the curtain backstage

Backstage, the man couldn't see what was going on on stage, or what was happening. All he heard from time to time were the gasps of the crowd as the act before him performed her death defying, high altitude acts. The sound of the applause filled the back of the tent, and he knew he had to get ready to go. He was dressed like a fool, simply put. Being one of the newer additions to this traveling circus certainly had it's downfall, and costumes was likely one of them. He was wearing an almost skin tight onesie of nearly the same orange color. It wasn't flattering, nor did it make him look good. It was just a costume after all though.

Hearing his introduction, Blaine stepped onto the stage in a flurry of simple pyrotechnics. Blaine had been lucky enough to have been gifted with control over fire. He could swallow it, manipulate it, and even control it. He hadn't figured out how to shoot it yet, but it didn't hurt him. As a matter of fact, he barely even felt it when he was doing his act. It was just something that was there for him to use, like water, or the sand at his feet. It wasn't his first time up on stage, but it certainly didn't mean the butterflies in his stomach were quelled.

"Our newest addition, please put your hands together for the amazing Fire Eater!"

The three hot spotlights in the room turned their attention on him as he made his way out on the stage. A fire burned fairly dimly in the center of the arena. Holding his trusty stick, Blaine lit it aflame by just sticking it in the fire. It caused the fire in the middle to start to flicker a little more, losing a little bit of it's light and a little bit of it's size. It was close to dying.

"Oh man, I don't even know why he's here. The fire is dying!"

The ring master called out much to the amusement of the crowd. It was growing quiet now, and Blaine could hear the individual murmurs within the crowd. A little boy complaining to his parents, the single man coughing, the rustling of whatever garbage there was floating around. All of the attention was on Blaine as he showed the stick on fire to the crowd, spinning slowly. Finally, he turned his face to the sky, slowly placing the fire at the end of the stick in his mouth, before withdrawing it and showing the crowd the flame on the stick had been put out.

"But what about the fire?"

The ring master cued him. Lifting his eyebrow, Blaine played along, shrugging, and feigning as though he was going to walk away, putting actual distance between him and the fire pit. Stopping nearly on a dime, he held the stick up and blew. A torrent of fire shot out of his mouth, lighting the stick and giving a little more than a boost to the fire in the center of the tent. The crowd roared up, as the fire must have travelled ten feet or more. Eating the fire on the end of the stick, Blaine dropped it and bowed before disappearing into the back once more.

Another show down. . .

"Good luck, Blaine," Natasha said with a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

In a cliché she had run away from home and joined the circus. Even though Russia was no longer technically a communist Soviet state anymore, people 'out of the norm' still had a habit of disappearing. Even if they didn't, even Natasha's own family had been more afraid than supportive. She had been in this circus for three years now. She was considered relatively new, working with people who had been with Shane for fifteen years, or even since its founding twenty years ago. She knew what it was like being new to such a tightly knit community and wanted Blaine to feel welcome.

When he came back, though, he would find Natasha in the middle of a heated argument with Shane. Though he was often kind, particularly to new people he "took in" from situations that were usually bad, he could be a bad person to cross. Father knew best, and as founder, ringmaster, and the man who cut their checks, he was Father. Natasha, always having been an independent spirit, didn't always get along with this.

"--in this shit, maybe I pierce nipples instead, eh!" Natasha was screeching, red in the face. Someone had taken over for Shane as announcer in the wake of the argument. "You put me in this thing, you say 'hide tattoo,' every time I dye hair you say 'dye it back,' you say if I have tiny little nose ring it distracts audience!"

"The light will catch--"

"You don't think these distract audience?! Huh?" The aerialist motioned to her chest, which strained the limits of her leotard. "You are boss, not my father!"

"Now you listen to me, young lady!" Shane roared, getting fed up with the petulant young woman. "You work for me, and you will do as I say! You signed of your own free will! Read your damn contract!"

"My contract, it does not say my body belongs to you and I do with it what I--!"

"Did I not make myself clear enough?!" Lunging, Shane grabbed a handful of hair near her scalp and began to haul her off. Natasha wasn't a weak woman by any means, but Shane was much stronger than he looked. He had never been clear with the cast at large what his ability was, but there were various theories; one was speed, another was telepathy, but at this particular moment Natasha thought it might be super strength.

"Shane--!" She struggled, though not much. If she did it would only make things more painful as he started to drag her toward the back of the tent. Behind the main tent were other tents and trailers for the cast. Michael could take care of the end of the show; Shane was going to take care of his problem child.

When Blaine came back stage, he looked around. He was towards the end of the entire act, if not the last act. People weren't scrambling around as much as they normally were and there was a little bit of commotion going on towards the back of the church. It seemed that Natasha was having trouble with Shane, the ringmaster. Blaine particularly liked Natasha. She was beautiful, good at her job, but most of all, she was very nice to him. She made him feel welcome when no one else would. Everyone was just watching the heated argument unfold and as much as Blaine wanted to speak up, he figured it wasn't his place.

The Ringmaster walked her a short distance to his personal trailer. It was sort of lavish, more lavish than anywhere else except for the main performance tent anyway. Most of the other women knew their place in this traveling circus, this traveling family of theirs. It seemed Natasha was feeling a little bit rebellious, a little bit angry about what had happened out there on stage. Still, if she didn't realize that mistakes happened, then she wouldn't make it with them. It wasn't even like she was in any real danger. He did understand the notion though, but it was still no reason to have her panties in a bunch. He was going to teach her a little bit of compassion. Before he had left, he held up a finger to his assistant. With the fistful of hair and the finger, the assistant knew exactly what it meant. No one spoke up, no one made and sudden movement. It was impossible to deal with Shane when he was like this.

Inside of the trailer, Shane threw her against his heavy desk which was cluttered with various papers, brochures, ticket stubs, everything that Shane did for the circus. Pausing for just a moment, Shane walked around to the front of the desk, opening a drawer near the front and pulled out a paddle. Swinging his arm, the paddle came into contact with a stack of papers on the desk. The weight of the paddle and the stack of papers caused a loud thump.

Smiling, Shane made his way back to Natasha, glancing at her. He forced both her hands against the desk with her palms down. It was very clear, he didn't want her to move or do anything that would make this harder on the both of them. Readjusting his grip on the paddle, and putting his hand on her shoulder, he brought the paddle back just a ways before he put a little bit of strength behind it before it came into contact with her rear end. Once more, he drew back his arm and brought the paddle into contact with her once more. With the men, the punishments were normally harsh beatings, usually within the confines of death or close to death. With the women, the punishments were normally sexual by nature. Shane was a man with needs as well.

The harsh paddling had gone on for a few minutes now, before he pointed the paddle right at her in her face. His face still had the same grimace on it, and it still was the same as it was throughout the entire process. Intertwining his fingers in her hair, he drug her over as he sat down on his large arm chair, the same chair that he did most of his business in. Forcing her down to her knees between his legs, he caught her eyes. There wasn't much more of a clear signal than what he was giving her.

Natasha staggered out of the main tent, dragged by her hair, into Shane's trailer. She'd been in here several times, almost never for anything good. She grunted as she was shoved into the desk and caught it heavily in the belly. She had just caught her breath and straightened when the paddle came down on the stack of papers. She looked up at him, eyeing him with searing hatred and rebellion. She clenched her jaw as he forced her hands onto the edge of the desk and adjusted her legs and hips.

She was able to manipulate the gravity fields around both the paddle and her rear to make it not hurt as much, but still the wood was heavy and made her wince. Tears burned in Natasha's throat, but she wouldn't cry. This was still, in fact, better than her life at home in Saint Petersburg. Her father had used the buckle end of a belt and made her count out loud til first blood. A paddle was significantly less painful.

It was when Shane dragged her to the chair and forced her to her knees, however, that she looked up at him in disgust. She hadn't been in here often, and perhaps that was why, but Shane had never done this to her before. Looking almost like she would spit at him, Natasha stood, shaking her head.

"Fuck you, Shane!" she spat before making for the door. She actually got it open before she felt fingers in her hair once more, this time pulling much more forcefully at her scalp. She crashed to her knees in front of the ringmaster as he hastily unbuckled his belt, standing in front of her know to keep firm control of her.

It wasn't long before Shane's trailer door burst open, banging against the outside wall and bouncing back, almost hitting Natasha as she flew through it. She returned to the main tent, wiping her mouth and looking livid. All of this over a little nose piercing! She knew that what Shane said went, but that...! Maybe she should have pierced her nipples like she'd threatened. At least he couldn't put her in that stupid unitard anymore.

"You, come vit me." She spoke quietly as she put a hand on Blaine's shoulder and steered him out of the back of the tent. "You are going to help me, da? Ve find needle and a cork."

To be frank, Blaine hadn't been doing much when Natasha had returned. It really hadn't been that long since she was gone. It wasn't like his relationship with her was even a budding friendship at this point, they were just co-workers or peers, if you could even call them that. He felt nothing when she had left except for curiousity. Curiousity towards the commotion, towards Shane, hell, towards what the inside of Shane's trailer had looked like. He didn't know much about anything inside of the circus, except for the fact that he knew he hated the costume he was forced to wear.

When Natasha put her hand on his shoulder, he opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. She seemed pretty upset. Perhaps Shane had fired her or something. Shrugging, he agreed to come along with her. It didn't take them very long at all to locate the items that she had wanted. The needle was found in the back area that was sectioned off for costuming. It was pretty easy, the seamstresses back there left their needles all over the place, so Blaine just reached out and picked one up. The cork was a little harder, but pretty easy still. Out back, some of the more experience and veteran men of the circus, the same ones who were "in" with Shane, drank cheap wine. While most of the wine didn't come with a cork of any kind, there were still a fair amount of bottles that did. Seeing as how all the strong men were on the stage at the time, picking up a discarded cork would be easy. They wouldn't even know it was gone.

When the two items that were requested were in Blaine's hand, he handed them over to Natasha with a dumb smile strewn about his face. He was unsure what she wanted with them. For all he knew, she was fixing to make a compass with them, maybe try to escape or something. She would need to find some source of electricity in order to magnetize the needle, as well as a shallow dish of water, but both of those things were easily located around the tent and the circus.

As far as Blaine knew, there was still at least twenty minutes of the circus left. The strong men were the second to last act, with the ringmaster going out and doing his cheesy bit with the lions. It was impressive the first time, maybe even the second, but after that it just got old and unexciting. It never changed, and Blaine had the script down word for word, he had heard it that many times. When the two of them were alone once again, he turned and looked at her.

"What's this all about? What are you trying to do?"

He wasn't upset, just curious.

In her fury and humiliation, Natasha had no idea where to find a needle or a cork, and both had been Blaine's idea. With a nod of approval she took him by the hand and pulled him back to her tent. Not only did Shane like the circus, when traveling, to have the appearance of a traditional gypsy-like circus (despite being anything but), the style was also to Natasha's tastes and were comfortable most places they settled down. Since she was one of the youngest performers both in age and in experience with the circus, she got a tent rather than a trailer in the caravan. Inside was just as colorful as the outside, with shawls and scarves hanging here and there from the ceiling and her bed partially concealed by a sheer fabric. It was just an air mattress, but with foam beneath the fitted sheet she had managed to make it comfortable enough. A few overlapping rugs kept Natasha and her belongings from mud and muck--for the circus almost always set up camps in fields outside of cities and towns--and apart from a large trunk in the corner with a laptop and a jewelry box perched on it, the only other furniture were several squashy-looking pouffes either bought or made at Natasha's own expense, thrown about for when she had friends over. By the time she had brought Blaine into the tent, she still hadn't explained what was going on.

"Sit anywhere," she said gruffly. "Before anythink I change. This costume, is ridiculous, da?" She hated the unitard-skirt combo Shane forced her into. She felt stupid and she looked stupid; it was meant to accentuate her bust while at the same time hide her tattoo. Shane didn't like body modifications on women, which was why unlike most circuses you would find very few women with piercings or tattoos in this cirque. Natasha had had hers before she had come here, which was why she was allowed to keep it only if she kept it covered up.

This tattoo of a dragon was revealed when Natasha started to strip off her costume, tossing it onto the bed before turning to cross to the trunk. She didn't seem to mind much that she was in just her underwear in front of someone she barely knew before pulling on a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top. She spoke over her shoulder to him as she rifled through the jewelry box.

"You have a lighter, da? Or can make fire? I ah...I cannot haff one." She found what she was looking for and turned around, smiling sheepishly. "Needles, they are a weakness, da?"

The dragon, at the time she'd gotten it, hadn't merely been decoration. Shane had found her strung out, sleeping on a bench in the Saint Petersburg train station, and after talking for a bit gave her a ticket to the circus. To this day she wasn't allowed a lighter for any reason, even candles. That was why she couldn't leave, not yet; Shane had gotten her clean and done so much more for her, even if he was abusive.

Taking up the needle and cork in one hand, along with whatever she'd pulled from the jewelry box, and with the other hand pulling Blaine over to sit on the bed with her, she crossed her legs and held the two items up. Chewing on her tongue, she had to think for a moment what to say.

"Ve show Shane he is not ruler of my body, I am," she explained at last. Natasha was the closest to what could be considered the circus's 'problem child.' "Ven I say, you heat needle, ve pierce my nose. Da?" She had chosen Blaine specifically because he was new; everyone knew that she had been fighting Shane for a long time over this, and no one else would be willing to go against Shane's wishes. Natasha had finally gotten fed-up with the struggle, and especially after Shane's reaction--after making her do that--she was willing to defy him.

Meanwhile, backstage, Shane was congratulating everyone on another show well-done, clapping them on the back and patting their shoulders. "Well done, everyone! Well done! Derek, Ali, Ginnifer, you three come with me. Time to press the flesh, you know how it is. Everyone else, why don't you start on supper? You all deserve a good hot meal."

Derek the empathic strongman, Ali the firethrower, and Ginnifer whose ability amounted to magnetic manipulation followed Shane out of the main tent to meet with a carefully selected portion of the audience, hand-picked by the ringmaster himself. Ali spoke quietly to Shane as they walked, heads bent together.

"This new kid, Blaine," he murmured in Shane's ear. "I think he's ready." As the other pyro in the circus, the Arab had taken him under his wing, so to speak.

"Not yet," Shane murmured back. "We don't know if he can trust him, and he doesn't yet realize the full strength of his ability."

The fire eater was surprised at how lavish her tent seemed. Not nearly as lavish as what he imagined inside of Shane's trailer, or in the main tent, but far more humble and homely than what he was living in. He was new, he didn't even get a tent this size. Instead, he was crammed in the back of one of the animal carts. He had a tattered wool blanket, and a pillow that was essentially some hay in a burlap sack. He had a set of clothes beyond his stage clothes, and his stage clothes technically weren't even his property. It must be nice.

The man's eyes looked over her as she dropped her unitard and her skirt. This was one of the first times alone with her, and here she was already in her underwear. He wasn't scared or awkward around women, but he wasn't nearly confident enough to strut around in his underwear around her or around anyone. Even the skin tight suit he was forced to wear was a little much and left little to the imagination. His nipples were clearly visible, so was a very prominant bulge in the cross sections of the area. Very little to the imagination was left for the audience. They could tell nearly everything about his body just by looking at him. Even further, so could Natasha.

When she asked him to produce fire, he obliged, closing his fist around his thumb. Flicking his thumb out of his hand, a tiny flame danced on the end of his thumb. It was a parlor trick he had picked up when he was moving from town to town as a street performer before he had been found by Shane. He didn't have a problem with any kind of drug, though he did like to partake in the occasional nose candy. Hell, it was so easy for him to get cocaine around the circus, there was no way he wouldn't be hooked on the stuff. Living in an unsanitary area that always smelt like cow shit would do that to you. He had to be careful around that methane though. He wouldn't be hurt by the explosion, but if he were to kill any of Shane's precious animals, he was sure his ass would be grass.

It was sort of tough to understand Natasha. Normally, Blaine really had to really pay attention in order to understand her. Now, she was a bit frazzled, and mumbling from time to time, and the heavy accent didn't really help. In addition to that, he was distracted. The tank top and the cutoffs were better than her underwear, but they still left little to the imagination. Heating the needle when she requested, Blaine just watched. She seemed to know what she was doing.

Natasha wasn't paying attention to what was and wasn't visible in Blaine's skin-tight costume. Stripping down in front of him hadn't been a pass or an attempt at seducing him. She was no version, of course, but in show business, one couldn't afford modesty. She had three costume changes over the course of the circus and there were very few privacy curtains. Even if there had been, people came and went half-dressed all the time, trying to get through the chaos of performance.

Natasha watched as Blaine held the flame under her needle, as she had watched a lighter under a spoon so many times. Her tongue flicked out over her bottom lip, but she took a deep breath to push down the pang of desire. She had been sober for two and a half years now, but that didn't mean that the pain of addiction was gone or would stay gone. It was, unfortunately, a struggle she would have to deal with for the rest of her life.

Pressing a piece of cork against the inside of her nose to keep the needle from making unwanted holes, Natasha waited until the needle was hot enough before taking a deep breath and stabbing the needle through her skin. She gasped in pain as it broke the skin, eyes watering. It was a rush, however, this socially acceptable body mutilation. Acting quickly, she grabbed up the rhinestone stud she had taken from the jewelry box and quickly withdrew the needle and replaced it with the jewelry.

Sniffing and shaking her head, clearing the tears out of her eyes, Natasha looked up at Blaine and seemed to be pleased. She touched her nose gingerly, then looked back at him. Her smile seemed to be mostly one of self-satisfaction.

"How does it look?" she asked eagerly.

To find someone who didn't have some kind of illegal vice in the circus would likely be impossible. There was rampant drug use, the availability of alcohol was likely much greater than Shane would care to admit, and cigarettes seemed to be used much like currency. It seemed like everyday, someone would be strung out, or close to death from the effects of withdrawal or even due to the effects of some of the drugs that were passed around. Here at the travelling circus, there was no such thing as a clean needle, not even a clean sewing needle. Blaine had only been in the circus for a few weeks, but he had already seen more death and more gruesome things than he would have cared to see in his entire life. That being said, he was glad Shane was willing to shelter him here, even if he had to share a room with farm animals.

"It looks great!"

The fire eater was quite impressed by her ability to have such a steady hand. It certainly seemed like this wasn't her first few times. If he needed any piercings, he knew who to come to. Reaching slowly towards her, he wanted to touch the new rhinestone that she had embedded into her own face. Around the hole, it seemed a bit redder than usual, but it certainly wasn't like Blaine was an expert. Okay, so maybe he hadn't told her about the redness around her nose, but that was to be expected right?

Another weird thing about the circus, no one really seemed to like talking about the extents of their powers nor their backgrounds. Rubbing the back of his head, he gave her a sheepish smile. She really seemed nice, well, nicer than most to him. The strong men seemed to have their own clique, so did the "freaks." He was an outcast from the tight knit Fire Eaters, and she seemed like she could be the same way amongst the acrobats. She certainly was rebellious, piercing her nose in lieu of whatever had happened to her in Shane's trailer. There was no bruising or anything, but he wondered if Shane treated the women in a much more unsavory manner.

"So uh, I was wondering. How did you find your way here?"

The man asked, maintaining his same sheepish matter. He knew how taboo it was around here, and he wondered if she would respond as most had - with anger and with a degree of defensiveness. Maybe most of these people had seen some shit, most certainly acted like they had.

Natasha smiled brightly at Blaine's approval. It was nice to get some positive feeback that didn't have a "but" attached to it for once. She expected redness and a little swelling, but that would go down in a few hours. Now all she had to do was keep it clean. She leaned forward and allowed him to touch her new body jewelry.

"Keerfil," she warned him as his fingers drew close. She knew he wouldn't mean to if he accidentally touched it too hard and hurt the new hole in her body, but that didn't mean she wanted it happening. Natasha grinned as she sat back, poking the end of the needle gently with her finger.

The circus was rampant with substance abuse, though it was behind Shane's back. He kept telling them how he wanted them clean. A strung-out circus was a circus that failed, and then where would they go? Most of them had been homeless or in bad home situations before Shane had picked them up; now they didn't even have that to go back to. Whenever she knew someone was using, Natasha chose not to say anything to Shane. After all, she knew what they had come from and didn't want them having to go back to that. The circus believed in tough love, but they were still her family now even if she was the odd little black lamb.

Natasha was surprised out of her thoughts by Blaine's question. "Hmm? Oh." She sat back and studied him for a moment, looking not angry but pensive, as if trying to decide how much to tell him. "This circus...you do not find it, it finds you, da?" She smiled a little before flopping down onto her side on the air mattress to get comfortable and look at Blaine through the sheer, see-through fabric.

"My family, they always know there is something...different about me, da? They are good people most of the time, but God-fearing Christians. They...worry for soul." While this was technically true, it wasn't the entire truth. Natasha's family had realized in her early childhood that prayer wouldn't work to cure whatever demonic possession had given her these powers and their care had turned abusive. "I vos seffenteen, I left home. Got in vit the wrong crowd, wound up on the streets doing 'magic' tricks for money, turning tricks for smack. Three years ago Shane found me. I sleep on bench in train station, and he starts a conversation. He ask why I sleep in some place so cold. I was high out of my mind so of course I tell him the truth, that my parents kick me out for unnatural things. He asks me what kind of things, so I show him what I can do."

Natasha shifted on the bed and studied Blaine's face for a reaction. "He give me ticket to the circus, and like they say is history after that." She shrugged. "What about you?"