Paradise (Closed)

Nikolas walked into the newest addition to his ad campaign. The Situation. It was a bar/stripclub, but for the worst of the worst. He'd heard about it in passing while he was getting ready for his act, and he was sure that the kind of audience he needed would be here. He held exactly fifty posters for it.

He still needed his big act though. Something no one had ever seen before. Everyone got bored with the children fighting children, and the wizards fighting panthers had gone downhill too, especially when the wizards' wands were taken away. No. They needed something new.

Zabava was at home, running the big top while he advertised, but he knew the responsibility was solely on him, that's why he'd come here, anyway. He knew the bartender.

He tipped his fadora the girl's way, and her eyes widened. "Ringmaster?" She asked, looking awestruck. "Ringmaster, what on earth are you doing here?!"

He smiled at her as he walked over to the bar, eyeing a blond on a pole as he passed her. She winked at him, and he grinned back. "Business, of course." He automatically had the ear of the ten closest patrons, but he acted as if he hadn't noticed. He slipped a flyer over the counter, smiling. "I've got the next best betting site in town, take a look?"

The girl obediently picked up the flyer and gazed at it. "House of Horrors?" She asked. "What is it, sir?"

"It's a game, of course." He said, leaning on the counter with a smile. "For the elite of the elite. You see, you get to pick who you think will win, the returning champion, or the poor sap stuck in the ring with him. There are three types of fights, animal on animal, animal on man, and animal on... well... inhuman." He shushed her as she opened her mouth, whispering softly to her, though it was loud enough for those listening to hear. "I've caught myself a Vampire to go against all my finest bred lions and bears. Can't wait for opening night, now, can you?"

Her eyes widened delightedly and she returned her attention to the flyer. "I... I don't see an opening date." She said, her mouth forming a small pout. "When is it?"

He winked at her. "Well, that would ruin the surprise, you know." He straightened. "We'll be in touch, of course, my girl, and you shall get the very first ticket." As he turned he, very deliberately, fell, the stack of flyers scattering. The strip tease stopped, shocked, but he waved her on, standing and stooping to try and pick up the mass of flyers, many of which, he was pleased to see, were being sneakily stuffed into the pockets of the patrons.

Grinning, he stood, and with a bow to the bartender, walked out of the club.

Things were in Motion.