john_amend_all | Fic: The Opposition

It's that time of year again... when we all try to hold out the forlorn hope of TTR: Dark Carnival getting finished.

The hippie bus was parked, Ace noted, on the outskirts of the town. Facing in the opposite direction from the Carnival, and with its engine ticking over.

"So this is where you're all hiding," she said, pushing the bus door open. "What's got into you?"

The Chief Clown turned his painted smile on her. "I don't follow you."

"Don't tell me you don't know." Ace brandished one of the familiar fliers. "There's a carnival in town, isn't there? Thrills, chills and all the rest of it. So why aren't you down there taking a look at the opposition?"

"Wouldn't that be..." The Clown gestured at the Ticket Collector robot, which was sitting in the driver's seat, staring ahead with its fixed expression of inane cheerfulness. "something of a busman's holiday for us?"

"Suit yourselves." Ace folded her arms. "You know, word on the street is this thing's a pretty tough proposition. Chewed Magnus up and spat him out, from what I hear. Maybe you're just not up to playing with the big boys, is that it? Don't fancy your chances without a load of wannabe Osirans to back you up?"

"Oh, on the contrary, my dear child." The Clown waved his hand. "Such riffraff are simply not worthy of our time and effort."

The Ringmaster, who'd been dozing a little further back in the bus, opened one eye. "Now welcome, folks," he mumbled.

Ace's eyes met the Chief Clown's. Just for a second, the two shared something not a million miles from mutual sympathy.

"Now welcome, folks, I'm sure you'd like to know / What the guys in this bus think about other shows / We're all laid back, real happy and cool / But if you go against us, you're a fool / Just try it with us and then you'll see / Who's the real Greatest Show in the Galaxy."

The Clown bowed. "And there you have it. What more could anybody ask for?"

"Yeah, I bet." Ace turned away in disgust. "More likely, the first sign of trouble and you lot'll run for it, as fast as this heap of junk can go."

"I suppose," the Clown suggested, as Ace reached the door, "you could always borrow the late lamented Captain Cook. Let me know if you require him: we shall reanimate him without delay."

"What's he supposed to do, bore these Tod blokes to death?" Ace marched out. The bus door was of such a design that it wouldn't slam, but she closed it as hard as she could.

The Chief Clown sat back in his seat. "Why not?" he remarked, watching Ace stamp away. "It sounds as likely to work as anything you might try."
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