Montague Cervantes has always been fascinated by the world of performance art. As an entertainer and professional wrestler, he’s seen his fair share of breathtaking acts and stunning performances. But one day, as he’s strolling through the halls of the Chicago Institute of Art, he stumbles upon a painting that leaves him absolutely spellbound.
"The Circus" by Georges Seurat, a masterpiece that captures the essence of the circus in all its colorful, chaotic glory. Montague stands there, his eyes fixed on the painting, as he takes in every brush stroke and every detail.
Admiring the painting, Monty can't help but feel a sense of kinship with the performers depicted in the artwork. He sees himself in the clown, the acrobat, and even the Rieffenach rider. He feels a connection to the way they are depicted with such vivid colors and dynamic movement.
For a moment, he forgets about his own performance art and instead feels like he is a part of the painting itself. He imagines himself flipping through the air like the acrobat, balancing like the Rieffenach, and clowning around with the other performers.
As he’s frozen there, lost in thought, Montague realizes that "The Circus" is more than just a painting. It’s a celebration of performance art and the people who dedicate their lives to it. And in that moment, Montague feels proud to be a part of that world.
“I must have it,” he decided aloud, with no one in particular to hear. “It’s the very thing, the symbol of the new chapter of the Astrocreeps. Caution in the wind, in danger’s warm embrace. A return to something beautiful in its simplicity, but clever in its execution. Something as unexpected as my pilfering of this masterpiece.”
The Doctor-Professor immediately begins to wander in a seemingly aimless way, but to the practiced eye, he’s analyzing and memorizing security measures.
“A return to form has paid off these past few weeks,” he muses distractedly, eyes darting here and there. “The message was louder than any victory or defeat, and new tethers were dropped into the minds of those we engaged. Therefore, I march forward into this seemingly random pairing, and choose to see it for the opportunity it is. I’ll be meeting Ken Davison, blue collar elite from the Mid-Atlantic, with a new eagerness.”
The following eager nod could have been a flourish to punctuate his declaration, or a satisfied appraisal of the institute’s defenses. He spins on his heel and heads for the lobby, pulling a black, knitted bit of fabric from inside his jacket.
“We’ve lost no love between us in the past, as often as we’ve tried to murder each other for the glory of the Cooperative Division,” the Showman admits, “but as of late he’s become so much more interesting.”
As he marches toward the exit, Monty happens to lift his head and catch a glimpse through the gift shop window. There, as beautiful as the real thing, a replica of Seurat’s brilliant piece. Only $49.99!
Abandoning his previous scheme, as well as his work-related reflection, Montague strolls in to make a purchase.
Montague, in an Ebenezer-esque stocking cap and matching dressing gown, has just finished reading "Circus" by Alistair MacLean, a gripping novel about a group of international spies working undercover in a traveling circus. The Mothman has always been a fan of action-packed stories and this one did not disappoint.
As he closes the book, Montague sits back in his chair–which is situated in a spot of honor beneath a freshly hung painting–and lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction. The story had kept him on the edge of his seat from beginning to end. He is beyond impressed by the intricate plot, the well-developed characters, and of course, the vivid descriptions of the circus setting.
Montague, as expected, feels a kinship with the circus performers in the story. He knew firsthand the dedication and hard work that went into putting on a show, in or out of the ring. On- or Off-camera. He admires the way the spies in the story have to blend in with the other performers, using their skills and abilities to complete their mission.
As he reflects on the novel, the Doctor-Professor can't help but feel a sense of pride in his own infiltration into another world. The circus was a world full of colorful characters, high stakes, and daring feats, which made it perfectly analogous to UGWC, where Monty has applied his skills to great effect. Two worlds that Montague has dedicated his life to, and he was grateful for the opportunity to spread his influence through both.
Montague makes a mental note to recommend the book to Ken. He’s sure that he will appreciate the story, eventually. And as he closes the book and sets it aside, Montague can't help but feel a renewed sense of excitement for his upcoming performance. He’s ready to take on the circus ring with renewed vigor, inspired by the thrilling tale he has just finished.
He’s just about to nod off when his eyes fly open like shutters in a hurricane. He jumps to his feet, forefinger of his left hand raised in his Eureka moment.
“There’s more!”
Monty is a man of many passions beyond his well-publicized, deep appreciation for the arts of physical performance. But one of his greatest loves is cinema, and he has a particular fondness for the films of Charlie Chaplin.
Tonight, Montague has settled in to watch one of his all-time favorites, "The Circus." He has always been drawn to Chaplin's physical comedy, and he finds the story of the tramp trying to fit in at a circus both hilarious and heartwarming.
As he draws a bowl of stove top-popped popcorn to his lap, Montague can't help but feel a sense of excitement. He knows the film inside and out, but he never tires of watching it. He loves the way Chaplin moves, the way he uses his body to tell a story. It reminds him of his own performances, the way he has to use every muscle in his body to convey emotion and excitement to the audience, even in the context of a bloodsoaked grapple,
As the opening credits roll, Montague lets himself be transported to the world of the circus. He chuckles at the tramp's antics, marvels at his stunts and tricks, and finds himself rooting for him to win the heart of the beautiful acrobat.
As the film comes to an end, Montague sits back with a deep sigh of contentment. He has been thoroughly entertained yet again, and he feels a renewed appreciation for the power of physical performance in all its forms. For Montague, what he does in UGWC and what he sees in the cinema are two sides of the same coin, both dedicated to telling stories and thrilling audiences with feats of physical prowess.
“I wasn’t the easiest to sell on the newest story Daedalus and Jordana hope we’ll tell,” Monty admits, “Though, perhaps not as hard as Tempest. He still labors under the burden of finding something interesting to work from in the interactions our Architect forces him into. Hopefully he’ll come around, because I think I’m converted.”
As DVD returns to the main menu, the Doctor-Professor recalls how he and Tempest had fought every step of the way during the last month or so. They hadn’t believed in this new vision. Having given it a chance, though, and opening himself up to receive the new psyches Daedalus was throwing his way, Monty had steadily seen the path revealed.
“Zane Scott. Ezra Wolf. Even Holden Orson,” he shakes his head, “There are still more acts to be trotted across the stage, more nuance out there that I can bend to my will without wasting the grave dirt to convert them. They each brought back some of the enthusiasm I haven’t felt since the early days of the Spooky Season, but until this week I hadn’t puzzled out how they would help the Astrocreeps turn the page on a new chapter. Back to basics is effective for a while, but without the denouement, it’s just a yearning for a glory that’s passed.
“But now,” a grin spreads across his face. “I can rest easy, because Mr. Davison is the culmination of the tale.”
Anyone with the unique capabilities the Showman boasts will always be a risk-taker. In his professions, the odds are good for injury or failure with every performance. Tonight, he is taking his chances in a different arena: the casino at Circus Circus in Las Vegas.
Montague has heard about the casino's high-stakes games and knows it’s the perfect place to test his luck. As he makes his way through the crowded gaming floor, he feels a rush of nervous energy. The bright lights, the sounds of the slot machines, and the buzz of the crowd all add to the thrill.
He decides to start with a game of blackjack. Sitting down at a table and he places his bet, feeling the weight of the remaining chips in his hand. The cards are dealt, and he watches them closely, calculating probabilities with each draw. His experience in the ring has given him a strong sense of intuition and he uses that same instinct to guide his decisions at the table. At the same time, his history disregarding personal safety in any profession has prepared him to be daring.
Pretty soon, Monty finds himself doing well. He’s won a few hands, lost a few, but managed to stay ahead of the game. Emboldened by each win, he can’t help but let out a cheer before collecting and thanking the dealer.
The night wears on as Montague tries his luck at other games, including roulette and craps. He keeps telling himself to quit while he’s ahead, but he can't resist the thrill of testing his luck. Too much rides on his fortunes this week, especially when he welcomes one half of the Baltimore Elite to his home.
In the end, Montague walks away from the casino with a modest profit. He knows that luck has played a big part in his success, perhaps as much as his intuition and skill. Still, the Doctor-Professor feels a sense of satisfaction. He’s about to take a risk and, if his luck holds out, it may very well seal the fate of the Astrocreeps, as well as UGWC.
It’s probably a given that Montague Cervantes has always been fascinated by the history of the circus. We find him in Rome, where he is paying a visit to the site of the Circus Maximus, one of the most famous and influential circuses of all time.
As he approaches the ancient site, Montague is struck by its enormity. The Circus Maximus had once been able to hold over 150,000 spectators, making it one of the largest entertainment venues in the world.
He walks around the ruins, marveling at the sheer size and scale of the structure. What must it have been like to perform in front of such an audience, to feel the adrenaline as he raced around the track or performed daring feats of acrobatics.
Montague is also struck by the history of the place. The Circus Maximus had been a center of Roman culture and entertainment for centuries, and it had witnessed countless spectacles, triumphs, and tragedies, the very things the Mothman craves.
As he stands there, taking in the grandeur and history of the site, Montague feels a sense of awe and respect. He realizes that he is part of a long tradition of performers and entertainers, one that has roots that stretch back to ancient times.
Taking a moment to pay tribute to the performers who had come before him, to the acrobats, charioteers, and other athletes who had once thrilled the crowds at the Circus Maximus, he knows that he is standing on hallowed ground. He is part of a legacy that will continue long after he is gone.
But only if that legacy has somewhere to go.
“That’s what the Astrocreeps currently lack. Legacy.” Admitting it seems to pain him. “We play at the end of the field where all the broken bottles and malnourished strays live. There’s nothing growing there, nothing planted because it’s thought to be a barren patch too craggy and coarse to produce life anew. We play where things go to die.”
He chuckles a little at his next confession, “We don’t do it to survive. We do it for the moments only we are adept at creating. Folks like us, we burn the brightest for as long as we can, before we inevitably snuff out like a candle. But what we showed them remains burned in their memories, even as our names and faces fade.”
“But what if the show could go on?”
“What if we could leave behind the blueprints for the Nightmare to continue to emanate from Gnaw Bone, long after the Indiana plains have sent their nightmares to gnaw on our bones? What if the children came to learn about He Who Walks Behind the Rows?” Monty grins conspiratorially.
“That’s what you bring to the table, Ken,” he croons, “the dynasty you’re unwittingly building.”
Montague pauses, allowing time for the realization to set in.
“You have, quite by accident it would seem, secured your legacy.” The matter of fact tone is almost accusatory. “Chloe has already had a taste of the spotlight, and that will burn away at her until she’s forced to return to the ring. Why shouldn’t Adina start attending the training academy you’re running lately? Why not start planning a regiment for the tyke who’s still on the way now?”
Monty smirks, “No, there’s a reason you’re keeping them from mixing it up with your raw recruits, and perhaps it’s because you don’t want them involved in, well, all this.”
He gestures at the empty field amongst the ruined monuments.
“But it’s too late for that anyway, Ken. You draw talent like a flame draws a moth. You won’t be able to keep them away.”
Folding his hands behind his back, Montague paces around a broken dais where an ancient orator may have once welcomed Christians by inviting the audience to imagine feline jaws closing around their necks.
“But when will you find the time to train them properly,” he wonders. “No one in your dungeon will give them their all, because it’s the boss’s kids. And when they inevitably compete outside the safety of your bubble, they’ll be underprepared and destined for misadventure.”
A theatrical sigh suddenly erupts from his chest as he feigns commiserating with the plight he’s envisioned for Ken. Then, suddenly, that Eureka finger again.
“We could train them,” he suggests with a shrug, as if it had just occurred to him and he considered it little trouble. “Chloe could begin training with Pisces now, and when she feels ready, move on to sparring with Kosnar. Eventually, Tempest would teach her how to survive nearly anything, and I could help her build her character, mystique, and audience manipulation techniques. We could teach her so much more than your little training school ever could, Ken. With our guidance, she could be remarkable, something we can all be proud of!”
Monty holds up his hands, palms out as if to say ‘what do you think?’
“If you’re happy with the Chloe who eventually debuts as a future UGWC Conquest champion, following in your footsteps with the finesse and aplomb she could only learn from the Astrocreeps, you’ll be clamoring to secure the education of the rest of your growing clan when they come of age.” The gamble is set, but Montague has a side bet to make the risk more palatable for his Nightmare opponent. “Don’t trust me? Send us one of your non-familial students. Give us a month to teach them what only we can, and see the wonders we’re capable of working.”
Finding himself in London to attend a performance put on by several members of his Cabinet, he knew he has to set aside some time to visit Piccadilly Circus, one of the city's most iconic landmarks.
As he approaches the bustling intersection, Montague's heart begins to race with anticipation. He heard that Piccadilly Circus was a hub of street performers, vendors, and circus acts, and he can't wait to see it for himself.
But as he makes his way through the crowds, the Mothman's excitement begins to turn to confusion. He sees no acrobats, no clowns, no animals, and no performers of any kind. Instead, he sees a busy roundabout surrounded by shops and advertisements.
Montague's heart sinks. This isn't the kind of circus he had been expecting at all. He had been so caught up in his own excitement that he hadn't even thought to research what kind of circus it was.
He wanders around for a while, hoping to find some kind of performance or entertainment, but he finds nothing. The crowds around him seem oblivious to his disappointment, and the noise and activity of the area only add to his frustration.
As he walks away from Piccadilly Circus, Montague felt a sense of regret. He had been so eager to experience the circus that he had built it up in his mind, and he had been let down by his own expectations.
He knew that the circus was more than just a physical place. It was a state of mind, a way of looking at the world with wonder and awe. It was up to him to bring that fascination with him, to introduce outsiders to it, even if they didn’t expect it, or even resisted it.
