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When Chase spotted the flyer for the Fall Festival, he didn't ignore it as he normally would have done.

He and Jack were in a north-eastern section of the United States of America, smack-dab in the middle of autumn.  They had come to this area in pursuit of a Shen-Gong-Wu.  Not that they'd needed it, as it wasn't particularly useful – just one of the "last minute" toys Dashi had made when he began running out of truly creative ideas.  No, Chase had dragged Jack along on the wu hunt for one reason only: To make his minion shut up.

Jack had been snarling and grumpy for the past few weeks, claiming that he was bored and stuck in a rut; how he never went anywhere, or did anything, or saw anyone or anything.  Chase had thought that granting Spicer TV and Internet access would help, but apparently, media could only do so much to a teenager who was used to being able to globe-trot at whim.

So, when the next wu was identified, he hadn't wasted any time. Throwing Jack's heavier coat at the youth, he'd snapped out the order, and soon enough, they were on the outskirts of some town called "Skowhegan" in a state called "Maine."  Upon seeing the signs, Chase had tried to pronounce Skowhegan, and Jack had cracked up laughing.

"No, no... it's skow-hee-gan... like 'ran', only with a 'g'," the albino corrected him, grinning hugely.

Chase frowned.  "And that one?"

"Norridgewock: Nor-idge-wok."

"And the rivers?"

"The Kennebec and the Carrabassett: Ken-eh-beck and Care-ah-bass-et."

Chase frowned.  "Why these strange names?"

"Native Americans ruled this territory first, until the English settlers arrived.  The names sounded pretty enough – and, hey, let's all make 'yay!' for political correctness – so they kept the names."  Jack's sarcasm was sharp and biting.

"Ah-hah," Chase had replied, and then they'd been caught up in the hunt for the wu and the subsequent contest for it.  Chase had let the monks win – though he'd enjoyed toying with Pedrosa just for the hell of it – and then the monks were flying away on the Dojo Express and Chase and Jack had been left behind.

Rather than leave right away, Chase had suggested they stay for a few minutes.  He hadn't known what to feel at Jack's poorly disguised relief. Instead, he dropped the Inconspicuous Spell around them again, and the two of them had wandered into town.

When Jack had made mention of being thirsty, they'd stopped into a convenience mart – and Chase was having all he could do to not openly destroy or mock the urban banality around him – and Jack had gotten a bottle of water, and then had begun leafing through the postcards.

"Look at this one," he'd said, holding up a color image of a signpost that pointed to such places as China, Denmark, and Peru.  All of which claimed they were within 100 miles of the signpost.  "These are all towns in the state that got named after these countries.  Huh – says it's located in Lynchville." A grimace, and then Jack had put the postcard back.  "Let's not visit."

Chase had grinned, knowing why Jack wanted to stay away from anything with the word "lynch" in it.  Despite the spell, he didn't fully believe in the protection, and was always worried about drawing unwanted attention.

He'd authorized Jack to get a few postcards so he'd have "souvenirs" and then had noticed the flyer.  Reading quickly, he'd discovered that a carnival would be setting up within a week on the Old Fairgrounds.  He read the information listed and made up his mind: He would bring Jack to the local festival.  Perhaps that would be excitement enough for his minion.

He spent the next week gathering a few things without Jack noticing. Then, finally, on the opening day, he went to find his minion in the lab.

*~*~*

"Spicer."

Jack felt a ripple of surprise shiver across his skin, but he figured that was better than his earlier reactions to Chase sneaking up behind him. Recalling how he'd usually jump and shriek, Jack figured he had to be developing some sort of radar specifically attuned to Chase.

Setting down his tools, he turned around, wiping his grimy hands on a rag.  "Yeah, Cha—“

His throat locked and his words died away in a sharply pitched squeak.

A single black eyebrow flicked upwards.  "Something wrong?" Chase asked calmly.

Jack didn't reply immediately.  He was still taking in the sight of Chase dressed in... well... civilian clothing.

Long legs were encased in black jeans that fit just right.  Black boots were on the man's feet, and a black turtleneck was tucked into the waistband of said jeans. Draped over one arm was clearly a black leather jacket.  In Chase's other hand, he carried a bundle of clothing.

Jack blinked rapidly and stammered, "Wha... what's... I mean... you... ohmygod..."

A wicked smirk curled one corner of Chase's mouth.  "We're going out. Here: Change into these so we can get going."

Jack stared blankly at the clothes in Chase's outstretched hand for so long that the evil lord made an impatient sound and took a step forward to shove them into Jack's hand.

Getting the hint, Jack began stripping right there.  He was fervently aware of Chase's gaze on him and he ignored it as stoically as possible. Clean black jeans of his own, swiftly followed by his own boots.  A black tank-top followed by a turtleneck that was so dark a maroon color as to almost be black.  A new coat – a peacoat, from what he could see; superbly cut, black, and had that gorgeous texture that invited stroking.

He pulled all of this on and then touched the half-gloves on his hands before reaching up to finger his goggles.  "What about...?"

"Leave them," Chase said.  He glanced at the goggles, grimaced slightly, and shrugged. "If anyone comments, let them comment. They're yours."

Jack grinned hesitantly at that statement.  He knew how much Chase disliked the goggles – if not the reason why.  He figured some day he'd switch to something else, but for now, the goggles were his security blanket.

"Well... uh... how do I look?" he asked, making a twirling motion and feeling gayer than gay as he did so.

Chase's eyes looked him down and up slowly, and then the older man smiled.  "Very pretty, Spicer."  He pulled on his own jacket and Jack felt his mouth go dry.  Chase held out his arm.  "Shall we?"

Walking forward automatically, Jack took Chase's arm.  "Sure. But where—“

He was cut off in the swift fold-whirl of teleportation, and when his vision cleared, he found himself back in the field where he'd first appeared in Maine only a week ago.  "—are we going?"

Blinking, Jack looked around.  It was mid-afternoon, if he was any judge of sun placement, on a cool autumn day.  Confused, he looked at Chase, who began walking towards the road hidden behind a stand of trees.  Swiftly, he followed, and they found themselves out on the local main road, walking towards the distant town.

"Chase, man, what's going on?" Jack asked, stretching his legs to keep up with Chase's naturally powerful stride.  He had the brief thought that, dressed in black, Chase looked very similar to his black jaguar warriors. "Why are we here?"

"You'll see," Chase said quietly.  When Jack glanced at him to gauge his mood, he was surprised to see that the older man looked relaxed – perhaps even content.

A chill breeze washed over them from behind, rattling through the gold and red and orange leaves above them.  Chase's hair was lifted and blown forward, hiding most of his face, and Jack felt his chest clench with breathless delight at Chase's almost enchanting beauty.

Chase, walking beside his minion, was aware of the soft little gasp Jack made, and of the youth's avid stare.  He looked sideways – a slanted, sloe-eyed look that peeped coyly over the mask of his long black hair. He knew it would be a stunning visual and he chuckled quietly when the pupils of Jack's eyes widened with unconscious want.

Leaves were pulled from their moorings on the branches they clung to, and as one large, vibrantly red leaf swirled down before him, Chase reached out and caught it.  He turned and held it up beside Jack's head and saw that it was a perfect match to his minion's hair – which was curling and fluttering sweetly around the lovely white face.

He smiled and murmured, “’The one red leaf, the last of its clan / that dances as often as dance it can.’”

Jack blinked.  He could see that the leaf matched his hair and it vaguely amused him that his hair really did have an identical color in nature. Then, he met Chase's gaze, and for some reason he felt like snuggling the man.

Rather than give in to an impulse that would undoubtedly be unwelcome, he grinned instead and reached up to take the leaf from Chase's fingers – and then tucked the leaf into the left pocket of Chase's jacket.

Chase smirked at him and they continued walking.

Eventually, they entered Skowhegan and made their way into the town proper. Jack was nervously aware that they were getting lots of intense, interested stares.

"Uh... Chase?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I can't help noticing that we're being gawked at."

"Probably because I don't have the 'Cloaking Spell', as you call it, activated."

Jack's eyes widened.  "Why not?"

"Spicer... would I have bothered to procure clothes to allow me to blend in with the common human herd if I was going to use the spell?" Chase rumbled irritably.

The teen blinked and then looked away.  "Uh... right.  I just don't understand why."

"Because of where we're going. I'm trying to experience this while being as close to 'mundane' as possible."

Jack frowned.  "But..."

A warning growl sounded and Jack dropped the questions immediately.

They continued walking, passed by a number of cars and trucks – all of whom gaped at the exotic strangers as they passed by.

An hour and fifty minutes of walking later, Jack blinked as they approached a section of land that was filled with amusement park rides, only on a smaller scale.

"A country fair?" Jack asked, squawking in his surprise.

A piece of pink paper was abruptly thrust in front of his face and Jack blinked hard while rearing back.  Giving Chase a dirty look, he snatched the paper from the man's hand and began reading.

"'The Skowhegan State Fair will be held on...'" he muttered out loud, and then trailed off.  He continued reading silently, taking note that a famous country singer would be performing on the Grandstand later that very evening.  He looked up at Chase.  "You brought me to a country fair?"

Chase grinned at his utterly shocked minion.  "I have brought us both to a country fair.  I have never been to one before. As I have grown tired of your whining about being bored, I thought perhaps we could tour this fair together.  Eat strange and no doubt disgusting food, ride some of the rides, and shock the locals."

Jack blinked again and then laughed at the image that filled his mind of Chase going lizard in front of a bunch of hicks.  He focused again on his overlord.  "You've never been to one of these? Ever? In 1500 years?"

"Never. It didn't seem like the kind of thing I'd enjoy."

"Then why now?"

"I believe I just explained that."

Jack thought back and then grinned.  "Well, you're in for a treat, then."

"You've been to one of these before? Somehow, I can't imagine a Boy Genius slumming here," Chase teased.

"Got dragged along a couple of summers when I had to visit my Dad's dumb brother and his family.  But it wasn't in New England, it was somewhere out in the mid-South; hot and humid as crap, and I hated it." Jack grinned.  "Well... except for the rides. And the games! They're all rigged, but I used my genius to bypass those and win the prizes. Oh, and the food. Chase! Ya gotta have a Red Hot and a Funnelcake and some Cotton Candy while we're here!"

Chase blinked.  "I'm familiar with cotton candy, but what are the first two?"

Jack grinned.  "A hot dog with red skin casing.  Best when cooked to a crisp and slathered with ketchup and mustard and tangy relish."

Chase was startled to feel his mouth watering at the thought. He'd never had a hotdog before, but the way Jack described it made the strange food sound wonderful.

"A funnelcake is nothing more than fried dough that you douse with melted butter, powder with sugar and cinnamon and cocoa, and then eat without utensils."

Chase was further intrigued.  As time had progressed, and baking and candy had progressed with it, he'd become enamored of sweets.  He was quite fond of the delicacy of chocolate-covered grasshoppers. He grinned as he recalled Jack's expression the first time he'd witnessed his overlord crunching into a bag full of them.

"We'll get around to it, I'm sure," Chase said, knowing full well they would.

"We'll wanna ride a few rides first. Then, once we eat, we gotta wait half an hour, or we'll just barf it all back up again," Jack instructed.

"I assure you, I have more control over my insides than that," Chase said dryly as he and Jack joined a line of people at a gate.  He calmly ignored the mortals who turned to stare at them. He was pointedly aware of the very approving eye some of the females raked over him.

Jack, too, was aware of the stares.  He didn't see any good interest in him, though – he saw the small-town populace look at him and instantly label him as a freak.  He saw disgust in some gazes before the people turned away.  In this PC-age, they wouldn't actively bully and taunt him for being "different," but they weren't about to accept him with warm hugs and cookies, either.

He felt the nudge of Chase's elbow against his arm and he looked up.  The older man was giving him a sly grin and for some reason, it cheered him up.  Jack laughed, and refrained from mentioning how he'd noticed that Chase had his ears strategically covered with hair.

The line inched forward and when they finally got to the gate, the matronly looking woman sitting at the booth did a double-take between the two of them.  Finally, she smiled warmly and said, "Ya not from 'round here, fellas?"

Both Jack and Chase noted that she barely pronounced any of the Rs in the words she spoke.  She also had an accent that made Jack think of a snap-spring.  The flow and tone of the words was a drawl, but each hard syllable brought her voice cracking back, like a spring. He'd been hearing it all around him, but the effect had faded into the drone babble of the crowd.  Being faced with it, he noticed it right off.

"What gave it away?" Chase asked, but his voice was deliberately casual and charming.

The woman tittered and then said, "Oh, just could be I've got an eye for these sorts o' things. Now, dearie, what'll ya be having?"

Chase blinked and looked at Jack.

Jack grinned and said, "Two adult admittances, no parking; two Daily Ride bracelets, and a roll of Ride Tickets."

The woman nodded.  "That'll be forty dollars, hon."

Chase handed a thick wallet over to Jack, who opened it and fished out two twenties to give to the woman.

She gave Chase a sympathetic look.  "Haven't spent much time in America, hon?"

"Not much, no," Chase replied, allowing a trace of his homeland's accent to lace his words, though he could speak roughly 392 languages – dead or alive – as fluently as he cared to.

Jack knew what Chase was capable of linguistically.  When you had the time, why not learn different languages?  He knew what Chase was up to: Camouflage.  It was easier to let people see – or hear – what they wanted to than to let them in on the truth.  Chase was hiding in plain sight.

Admiration filled Jack, but he said nothing other than a polite "Thank you, ma'am" to the woman who handed over two thick red rubber bands and a roll of tickets.  Then, she held up a rubber stamp coated with ink.

Jack decided to demonstrate and simply held out his right hand.  The opening of the glove across the back of his right hand was large enough for her to press the mark into his skin, which showed up clearly against the whiteness.

Chase watched the display with distaste, but realized he wasn't going to be allowed entry without being stamped.  He calmly put his hand forward, noting how the woman took the opportunity to make as much contact with him as she could, and allowed the ink to be pressed into his skin.  He felt the glimmer and ripple of scales beneath his skin, but subdued his natural instinct to mutilate her. Knowing that his minion was watching, he even went so far as to smile warmly at the matronly woman and slip a quick wink to her.  The blush that took her face and the excited fluttering amused him, and then he caught Jack by the shoulder and led the teen away to the open gate.

"Hitting on the elderly, Chase?" Jack groused as he and his overlord showed the guards at the gate their stamped hands and were ushered inside.  "Are you really that desperate?"

"It isn't as though you put out on a regular basis," Chase replied calmly, and laughed when Jack choked briefly before coughing hysterically.  Patting his minion firmly on the back, he added, "Besides, I'm older than she is. That puts things in perspective."

"That is a disturbing mental visual," Jack muttered, but he let it go.  His eyes had just locked on a familiar ride.  "The Gravitron!"

Chase followed his minion's line of sight to see what looked like a stereotypical UFO spinning around in the middle of the fairgrounds.  "The what?"

"The Gravitron!  Its function is making use of centrifugal force.  Inside the 'spaceship' are several 'lab tables' that people stand up against. The 'tables' are actually moving slabs that are covered with padding. When the ride starts up, it spins around and around, gaining momentum. Once you have enough G-force that you can stick to the slab without falling off, you hop up and allow the centrifugal force to pin you in place.  The slabs will be pulled up to the ceiling for a few seconds, then lowered again. It will repeat for the duration of the ride, and when it's over, you just step down onto the floor neatly as gravity is returned to you."

Chase grinned at his minion.  "Your inner science geek is entirely in love, isn't it, Spicer?"

Jack smirked even as he blushed.  "Hey – just because I know how it works doesn't make it any less fun."

Chase then insisted they make a circuit of the entire fair before committing to anything.  The rides were spread out as needed, and Jack explained the Swing Ride, the SeaDragon, the Mini Rollercoaster, the kiddie rides, and the Double Loop.  From there, they moved on, walking past the Fun House, and Chase especially wanted to know why Jack shuddered.

"Because they usually have a 'Haunted House' in there," Jack said.

"Is that where people are saying you escaped from?" Chase asked, frowning.

Jack blinked.  "What?"

"I've overheard several of the oh-so-charming patrons commenting on your appearance. They deduced that you escaped from something called the 'sideshow'."

Jack flinched and looked away.  "Uh... no.  The sideshow is where the 'freaks of nature' are kept.  Like, the Bearded Lady, and the Bat Boy, and... you know; folks who appear to be mutated from the human norm."

Chase was silent as he digested this information.  Then, he growled softly and reached up to gently stroke a finger across one breeze-cooled white cheek.  When Jack looked up at him, he said simply, "I will kill them all for you if you ask it of me."

Jack's eyes widened.  After a stunned moment, he grinned bashfully and said, "N-No... thanks, but no thanks, Chase. People are just jerks; always have been, always will be. Let's just have fun, okay?"

A wicked smile took Chase's face.  "What makes you think I wouldn't have fun?"

Red eyes rolled up briefly before settling back down.  The look in them was warm; at odds with the exasperation on Jack's face.  "Blending in, remember?"

"Serial killers do it all the time."

"Chaaaaaaaase..."

A rich, husky chuckle.  "Very well, Jack – I will behave myself." A pause. "For you."

A pink tinge heated Jack's cheeks and Chase stroked over the blush.  Noticing that touching Jack was drawing more interest than their looks alone did, Chase finally dropped his hand and nodded at Jack to continue.

They toured the entire circuit, with Jack explaining the concepts behind the various games they passed.

"And you said they're rigged to fail?" Chase murmured, deliberately keeping his voice down.

"Mmm-hmmm. Rigged so that if you don't throw a hoop a precise way, it won't fit over the rim of a bottle.  They look like they're big enough to fit, but distance vision is used against people in this instance. The hoops are only three-fourths of a centimeter larger than the bottle rims. The darts are fletched in such a way that it puts a spin on them when you throw, and the balls are loaded for the knock-down game."

"I take it that the big prizes are very rarely won," Chase muttered, glancing at the absolutely humongous stuffed animals hanging from the various carts and wagons and stalls.

"Very, very rarely.  Only someone who's 'in the know' or who's attended a particular fair for a long time know how to get around them." Jack grinned.  "My genius was put to work winning an insane amount of stuffed animals for my cousin Megan."

Sensing a slight wistfulness in Jack's demeanor, Chase glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing," Jack said a moment later, correctly interpreting the look given to him.  "Just... sometimes, I wished someone would win one for me.  Not 'cause I needed or really wanted the toy, but because it'd mean someone competed and won something for me."

Chase said nothing. The way Jack pointedly looked away was an indication for the topic to be dropped, and so he allowed it.

Eventually, they found their way past the midway and into the agricultural area.  Chase looked over several plants with interest in the horticultural barn – something that surprised Jack to no end, until he recalled the private garden at the top level of the mountain, as well as the trees and shrubs that dotted the tiers.  Chase knew how to care for plants.

The Arts and Crafts barn was given a look through, but neither of them was entirely interested – though Jack did like the rich colors on the oil crayons on display.

The animal pens were next, and Jack was surprised when Chase paused to look at a stall filled with a fat white pig.  He glanced up at his overlord.  "What?"

"I can see that one between two thick slices of toasted sourdough," Chase murmured with a grin, nodding at the pig, whose ear was flapping lazily to flick away a fly.

Jack blinked, but Chase wasn't done.  Pointing to a pen nearby, he said of the sheep inside, "They have me thinking of mint sauce."

Catching on, Jack grinned and then gestured to the racks of cages that held fluffy rabbits and said, "What about these?"

"Stew."

Jack laughed, but Chase thought for a moment and then added, "And perhaps a new pair of winter gloves."

"Is it time to get something to eat?" Jack asked, still snickering.

"I think that would be wise."

They backtracked out to the main avenue and Jack led the way to the hotdog stand.  Chase hung back after giving Jack the wallet, and soon enough, Jack returned with two paper troughs filled with steaming food and two bottles of water.

"Let's find a place out of the way to eat these," Jack said, and Chase scouted out a likely area and led the way.

Once there, he accepted a bottle of water as he sat on a bench, and then the paper trough. Inside was a bread substance split in half.  A long tube of something bright red rested against it, which he assumed was the hotdog.  Piled on it were a red paste, a yellow paste, and then a chunky green sauce.

The sight was revolting but the smell was tantalizing.  He glanced at Jack for instruction, and watched as his minion picked the food up in his hand by pinching the bread halves together, leaned forward with the trough cupped under his chin, and took a bite from the other end and began chewing.

Chase sighed and copied the gesture, and a moment later, his eyes widened as his mouth came alive at the new flavors and textures.

Jack watched and laughed as Chase chewed thoughtfully, experimentally... and then proceeded to eat the rest of the hotdog rapidly with great enjoyment.

He also wasn't surprised when Chase fastidiously wiped the outside of his mouth and chin clean with one of the paper napkins provided and held out the wallet with a pointed look.

Setting aside his own meal, Jack fished out a ten and handed it over to Chase.  "That's enough for three more hotdogs with the works."

"The works...?"

"Well, normally that'd include chili and onions slathered on as well, but this is fairground food, which means the basics of ketchup, mustard, and relish. Just tell the guy how many you want, tell him 'with the works', and wait for him to assemble the food. You hand him the paper bill, if there's any change, he gives that back, and you're free to scarf down your hotdogs."

Chase growled and snatched the paper bill from Jack.  "I'm aware of how currency is used, Spicer."  With that, he stalked off towards the hotdog vendor.

Jack picked up his own meal and ate slowly, watching as Chase ordered three more hotdogs with the works.  The money-for-food exchange was made, and Chase soon came back, looking mighty pleased with himself. One of the new purchases was handed to Jack, who accepted because he was hungry, too, and had just finished his first hotdog.  By the time he was done, Chase had polished off both of his hotdogs and drained the bottle of water entirely.

Jack grinned at Chase.  "Like the hotdogs?"

Chase let out a mild belch and grinned back at Jack.  "Yes. I'll see about having some brought into the mountain. What now?"

"Now, we either play a few games or we walk the circuit again.  We have to wait."

Chase aimed a calculating stare at the row of game vendors.

Jack saw it.  "If you plan to play to win, you might wanna wait until we're about to go home. Otherwise, you'll be carrying all that stuff around with you."

"Unless I discretely send it back to the mountain," Chase reminded him.

"Oh, yeah!" said Jack sheepishly. "Uh... well, in that case... Or we could do the Fun House."

"You didn't look all that thrilled at the idea before," Chase said skeptically.

"Well, maybe it's different from the other one I went to."

"What was wrong with the other one?"

Jack shuddered and fear filled his eyes.  "Clowns."

The look Chase gave his minion was the sheer definition of incredulity.

Nevertheless, the two of them threw away their trash and went to the Fun House.

The Fun House was actually a mini-carnival tucked out of sight behind a canvas wall that stretched the length of a football field.  Inside, Jack led the way first to the Sideshow, and Chase saw human deformities that made it abundantly clear why the people outside had made such scathing remarks about Jack.  However, these mortals – or "Carnies" as Jack called them – seemed to take their existence in stride and made their deformities work for them.

Then, as they were heading for a line that would get them into the Fun House, a voice rang out.

"Hey! Chink! You and the Vampire wanna play?"

Chase froze and Jack did, too.

Chase, who had been around long enough to know what "Chink" meant, slowly turned to face the direction of the voice.  He didn't betray any surprise when he found a man sitting on a platform over a deep tub of water, protected by a cage.

"Yeah, Chinky, I'm talkin' to you," the man said with a wicked grin.  "You understand English? Hah?"

Chase understood well enough, but he looked to Jack nevertheless, who decided to play along for now.  In fluent Mandarin, Jack said, "That's the Dunking Booth.  See the wide square off to the left and the stack of balls on the table? Your task is to give tickets to the guy by the table. You have to hit the square with those balls – you get three throws – and if you do, it triggers a release underneath the seat the man in the cage is sitting on, and he'll be dumped into the water."

"Ohhhhhhhhh... so that's why you've got the little vampire with you!" the man crowed.  "And here I thought he was your boy-toy!  Thought you'd make some whoopee on the midway, Chin Fee?"

Playing along, Jack dutifully translated with a barely hidden grin, and Chase narrowed his eyes at the man in the cage.

"It's gonna take more than a dirty look to make me shut up. C'mon, Bruce Lee, gimme all ya got!  Or what...? You don't have enough time 'cause you gotta feel up Rob Zombie in the dark?"

Again, Jack translated, but now he wasn't quite so amused.

The man in the cage noticed it and smirked.  "What'sa matter, whitey? Fu Manchu isn't man enough for ya? C'mere, kid – I'll tell it to ya straight how to find the path to my inner enlightenment!" With that, he grabbed his crotch suggestively.

A dark tension took hold of Chase.  He waited only long enough for Jack to "translate" and then he was stalking forward.  He plunked down two tickets, ignoring the amused smirk on the ticket handler's face, and accepted the three balls handed to him.  He stepped back to the white line drawn in the grass, rolling the spheres in his hands.  He could feel how they had been unevenly balanced, and would compensate appropriately.

Jack glanced at him.  "Are you sure about this?" he asked in Mandarin.

"Very." The single word was a dangerous growl, and the people around who heard the tone began to gather, subconsciously realizing that a battle was about to take place.

"C'mon, Kim Chee, do your worst!" taunted the man in the cage.

A heartbeat later, he was yelping as he splatted down into the water below him.

The cool water that was edging towards cold in the autumn chill.

Chase smirked as he heard the man sputtering and thrashing to the surface. He started to step forward to return the other two balls, but was stopped when the man at the ticket table held up his hand.  Two others were on a platform behind the cage, resetting the seat and helping the Taunter out of the water.

"Tell him he paid for three throws, he gets three throws," the ticket handler said to Jack.

Dutifully, Jack relayed the information.

The predatory smile that curved Chase's face was frightening to see.

The cheers and good-natured cat-calling that had erupted from the crowd died down, and they waited with bated breath as the Taunter once again resumed his seat.

The Taunter cleared his throat and then put his smirk back on his face.  "That the best you got, Bruce?  Lay it on me, baby!  You probably got lucky the first time 'cause you're right on a level with the target!  Short little gook like you, you probably can't—“

Jack was translating, word for word, at the same time.  Chase waited, and upon hearing the word "gook" he let fly – deliberately missing the target.

Before the crowd's "Boo!" and the Taunter's "Hah!" had died away, the third ball slammed with sufficient power into the target that the Taunter was ejected from his seat, bounced off the cage, and plopped into the water.

Stunned silence held the crowd for a moment.  Then, wild cheers erupted.

Supremely pleased with himself, Chase turned to Jack and asked, "Did I win anything?"

Jack laughed.  "Only my eternal admiration for wiping that guy out. I can't believe you didn't slaughter him when he called you 'Chink'!"

Chase shrugged and turned to lead the way to the Fun House, surreptitiously avoiding the backslaps the crowd tried to give him. "Name-calling is easy to ignore." He gave Jack a hot, level stare. "But his suggestion that you abandon me to service him was unacceptable."

Jack was silent for a moment.  Then, nudging Chase's arm carefully with his elbow, he grinned and said, "I'm not going anywhere."

The extremely pleased smirk that graced Chase's features was frightening to look at.

*~*~*

"Okay, I should warn you," Jack said as he and Chase settled into the last of the six small cars that made up the Fun House train; "the inside is rigged so that things will be flashing and flying at us. It's meant to shock and startle, so please don't go lizard and eat something."

Chase gave his minion a jaundiced stare.  "Now that I know about it, how is it going to 'shock and startle' me?"

"Would you rather have gone all Warlord Badass on the place and thus miss out on funnelcake and cotton candy?" Jack countered.

Chase thought about that and relented.

"Very well," he said, and stared in consternation as the bar he'd been holding onto suddenly moved of its own volition to lock down across his lap.

"Don't worry," Jack said. "It's just the safety bar."

Chase snorted.  "It isn't safe enough to protect them from me if I get much more irritated."

That all this was being said in Mandarin insured zero frightened looks being sent his way.

Description
When Chase spotted the flyer for the Fall Festival, he didn't ignore it as he normally would have done.

He and Jack were in a north-eastern section of the United States of America, smack-dab in the middle of autumn.  They had come to this area in pursuit of a Shen-Gong-Wu.  Not that they'd needed it, as it wasn't particularly useful – just one of the "last minute" toys Dashi had made when he began running out of truly creative ideas.  No, Chase had dragged Jack along on the wu hunt for one reason only: To make his minion shut up.

Jack had been snarling and grumpy for the past few weeks, claiming that he was bored and stuck in a rut; how he never went anywhere, or did anything, or saw anyone or anything.  Chase had thought that granting Spicer TV and Internet access would help, but apparently, media could only do so much to a teenager who was used to being able to globe-trot at whim.

So, when the next wu was identified, he hadn't wasted any time. Throwing Jack's heavier coat at the youth, he'd snapped out the order, and soon enough, they were on the outskirts of some town called "Skowhegan" in a state called "Maine."  Upon seeing the signs, Chase had tried to pronounce Skowhegan, and Jack had cracked up laughing.

"No, no... it's skow-hee-gan... like 'ran', only with a 'g'," the albino corrected him, grinning hugely.

Chase frowned.  "And that one?"

"Norridgewock: Nor-idge-wok."

"And the rivers?"

"The Kennebec and the Carrabassett: Ken-eh-beck and Care-ah-bass-et."

Chase frowned.  "Why these strange names?"

"Native Americans ruled this territory first, until the English settlers arrived.  The names sounded pretty enough – and, hey, let's all make 'yay!' for political correctness – so they kept the names."  Jack's sarcasm was sharp and biting.

"Ah-hah," Chase had replied, and then they'd been caught up in the hunt for the wu and the subsequent contest for it.  Chase had let the monks win – though he'd enjoyed toying with Pedrosa just for the hell of it – and then the monks were flying away on the Dojo Express and Chase and Jack had been left behind.

Rather than leave right away, Chase had suggested they stay for a few minutes.  He hadn't known what to feel at Jack's poorly disguised relief. Instead, he dropped the Inconspicuous Spell around them again, and the two of them had wandered into town.

When Jack had made mention of being thirsty, they'd stopped into a convenience mart – and Chase was having all he could do to not openly destroy or mock the urban banality around him – and Jack had gotten a bottle of water, and then had begun leafing through the postcards.

"Look at this one," he'd said, holding up a color image of a signpost that pointed to such places as China, Denmark, and Peru.  All of which claimed they were within 100 miles of the signpost.  "These are all towns in the state that got named after these countries.  Huh – says it's located in Lynchville." A grimace, and then Jack had put the postcard back.  "Let's not visit."

Chase had grinned, knowing why Jack wanted to stay away from anything with the word "lynch" in it.  Despite the spell, he didn't fully believe in the protection, and was always worried about drawing unwanted attention.

He'd authorized Jack to get a few postcards so he'd have "souvenirs" and then had noticed the flyer.  Reading quickly, he'd discovered that a carnival would be setting up within a week on the Old Fairgrounds.  He read the information listed and made up his mind: He would bring Jack to the local festival.  Perhaps that would be excitement enough for his minion.

He spent the next week gathering a few things without Jack noticing. Then, finally, on the opening day, he went to find his minion in the lab.

*~*~*

"Spicer."

Jack felt a ripple of surprise shiver across his skin, but he figured that was better than his earlier reactions to Chase sneaking up behind him. Recalling how he'd usually jump and shriek, Jack figured he had to be developing some sort of radar specifically attuned to Chase.

Setting down his tools, he turned around, wiping his grimy hands on a rag.  "Yeah, Cha—“

His throat locked and his words died away in a sharply pitched squeak.

A single black eyebrow flicked upwards.  "Something wrong?" Chase asked calmly.

Jack didn't reply immediately.  He was still taking in the sight of Chase dressed in... well... civilian clothing.

Long legs were encased in black jeans that fit just right.  Black boots were on the man's feet, and a black turtleneck was tucked into the waistband of said jeans. Draped over one arm was clearly a black leather jacket.  In Chase's other hand, he carried a bundle of clothing.

Jack blinked rapidly and stammered, "Wha... what's... I mean... you... ohmygod..."

A wicked smirk curled one corner of Chase's mouth.  "We're going out. Here: Change into these so we can get going."

Jack stared blankly at the clothes in Chase's outstretched hand for so long that the evil lord made an impatient sound and took a step forward to shove them into Jack's hand.

Getting the hint, Jack began stripping right there.  He was fervently aware of Chase's gaze on him and he ignored it as stoically as possible. Clean black jeans of his own, swiftly followed by his own boots.  A black tank-top followed by a turtleneck that was so dark a maroon color as to almost be black.  A new coat – a peacoat, from what he could see; superbly cut, black, and had that gorgeous texture that invited stroking.

He pulled all of this on and then touched the half-gloves on his hands before reaching up to finger his goggles.  "What about...?"

"Leave them," Chase said.  He glanced at the goggles, grimaced slightly, and shrugged. "If anyone comments, let them comment. They're yours."

Jack grinned hesitantly at that statement.  He knew how much Chase disliked the goggles – if not the reason why.  He figured some day he'd switch to something else, but for now, the goggles were his security blanket.

"Well... uh... how do I look?" he asked, making a twirling motion and feeling gayer than gay as he did so.

Chase's eyes looked him down and up slowly, and then the older man smiled.  "Very pretty, Spicer."  He pulled on his own jacket and Jack felt his mouth go dry.  Chase held out his arm.  "Shall we?"

Walking forward automatically, Jack took Chase's arm.  "Sure. But where—“

He was cut off in the swift fold-whirl of teleportation, and when his vision cleared, he found himself back in the field where he'd first appeared in Maine only a week ago.  "—are we going?"

Blinking, Jack looked around.  It was mid-afternoon, if he was any judge of sun placement, on a cool autumn day.  Confused, he looked at Chase, who began walking towards the road hidden behind a stand of trees.  Swiftly, he followed, and they found themselves out on the local main road, walking towards the distant town.

"Chase, man, what's going on?" Jack asked, stretching his legs to keep up with Chase's naturally powerful stride.  He had the brief thought that, dressed in black, Chase looked very similar to his black jaguar warriors. "Why are we here?"

"You'll see," Chase said quietly.  When Jack glanced at him to gauge his mood, he was surprised to see that the older man looked relaxed – perhaps even content.

A chill breeze washed over them from behind, rattling through the gold and red and orange leaves above them.  Chase's hair was lifted and blown forward, hiding most of his face, and Jack felt his chest clench with breathless delight at Chase's almost enchanting beauty.

Chase, walking beside his minion, was aware of the soft little gasp Jack made, and of the youth's avid stare.  He looked sideways – a slanted, sloe-eyed look that peeped coyly over the mask of his long black hair. He knew it would be a stunning visual and he chuckled quietly when the pupils of Jack's eyes widened with unconscious want.

Leaves were pulled from their moorings on the branches they clung to, and as one large, vibrantly red leaf swirled down before him, Chase reached out and caught it.  He turned and held it up beside Jack's head and saw that it was a perfect match to his minion's hair – which was curling and fluttering sweetly around the lovely white face.

He smiled and murmured, “’The one red leaf, the last of its clan / that dances as often as dance it can.’”

Jack blinked.  He could see that the leaf matched his hair and it vaguely amused him that his hair really did have an identical color in nature. Then, he met Chase's gaze, and for some reason he felt like snuggling the man.

Rather than give in to an impulse that would undoubtedly be unwelcome, he grinned instead and reached up to take the leaf from Chase's fingers – and then tucked the leaf into the left pocket of Chase's jacket.

Chase smirked at him and they continued walking.

Eventually, they entered Skowhegan and made their way into the town proper. Jack was nervously aware that they were getting lots of intense, interested stares.

"Uh... Chase?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I can't help noticing that we're being gawked at."

"Probably because I don't have the 'Cloaking Spell', as you call it, activated."

Jack's eyes widened.  "Why not?"

"Spicer... would I have bothered to procure clothes to allow me to blend in with the common human herd if I was going to use the spell?" Chase rumbled irritably.

The teen blinked and then looked away.  "Uh... right.  I just don't understand why."

"Because of where we're going. I'm trying to experience this while being as close to 'mundane' as possible."

Jack frowned.  "But..."

A warning growl sounded and Jack dropped the questions immediately.

They continued walking, passed by a number of cars and trucks – all of whom gaped at the exotic strangers as they passed by.

An hour and fifty minutes of walking later, Jack blinked as they approached a section of land that was filled with amusement park rides, only on a smaller scale.

"A country fair?" Jack asked, squawking in his surprise.

A piece of pink paper was abruptly thrust in front of his face and Jack blinked hard while rearing back.  Giving Chase a dirty look, he snatched the paper from the man's hand and began reading.

"'The Skowhegan State Fair will be held on...'" he muttered out loud, and then trailed off.  He continued reading silently, taking note that a famous country singer would be performing on the Grandstand later that very evening.  He looked up at Chase.  "You brought me to a country fair?"

Chase grinned at his utterly shocked minion.  "I have brought us both to a country fair.  I have never been to one before. As I have grown tired of your whining about being bored, I thought perhaps we could tour this fair together.  Eat strange and no doubt disgusting food, ride some of the rides, and shock the locals."

Jack blinked again and then laughed at the image that filled his mind of Chase going lizard in front of a bunch of hicks.  He focused again on his overlord.  "You've never been to one of these? Ever? In 1500 years?"

"Never. It didn't seem like the kind of thing I'd enjoy."

"Then why now?"

"I believe I just explained that."

Jack thought back and then grinned.  "Well, you're in for a treat, then."

"You've been to one of these before? Somehow, I can't imagine a Boy Genius slumming here," Chase teased.

"Got dragged along a couple of summers when I had to visit my Dad's dumb brother and his family.  But it wasn't in New England, it was somewhere out in the mid-South; hot and humid as crap, and I hated it." Jack grinned.  "Well... except for the rides. And the games! They're all rigged, but I used my genius to bypass those and win the prizes. Oh, and the food. Chase! Ya gotta have a Red Hot and a Funnelcake and some Cotton Candy while we're here!"

Chase blinked.  "I'm familiar with cotton candy, but what are the first two?"

Jack grinned.  "A hot dog with red skin casing.  Best when cooked to a crisp and slathered with ketchup and mustard and tangy relish."

Chase was startled to feel his mouth watering at the thought. He'd never had a hotdog before, but the way Jack described it made the strange food sound wonderful.

"A funnelcake is nothing more than fried dough that you douse with melted butter, powder with sugar and cinnamon and cocoa, and then eat without utensils."

Chase was further intrigued.  As time had progressed, and baking and candy had progressed with it, he'd become enamored of sweets.  He was quite fond of the delicacy of chocolate-covered grasshoppers. He grinned as he recalled Jack's expression the first time he'd witnessed his overlord crunching into a bag full of them.

"We'll get around to it, I'm sure," Chase said, knowing full well they would.

"We'll wanna ride a few rides first. Then, once we eat, we gotta wait half an hour, or we'll just barf it all back up again," Jack instructed.

"I assure you, I have more control over my insides than that," Chase said dryly as he and Jack joined a line of people at a gate.  He calmly ignored the mortals who turned to stare at them. He was pointedly aware of the very approving eye some of the females raked over him.

Jack, too, was aware of the stares.  He didn't see any good interest in him, though – he saw the small-town populace look at him and instantly label him as a freak.  He saw disgust in some gazes before the people turned away.  In this PC-age, they wouldn't actively bully and taunt him for being "different," but they weren't about to accept him with warm hugs and cookies, either.

He felt the nudge of Chase's elbow against his arm and he looked up.  The older man was giving him a sly grin and for some reason, it cheered him up.  Jack laughed, and refrained from mentioning how he'd noticed that Chase had his ears strategically covered with hair.

The line inched forward and when they finally got to the gate, the matronly looking woman sitting at the booth did a double-take between the two of them.  Finally, she smiled warmly and said, "Ya not from 'round here, fellas?"

Both Jack and Chase noted that she barely pronounced any of the Rs in the words she spoke.  She also had an accent that made Jack think of a snap-spring.  The flow and tone of the words was a drawl, but each hard syllable brought her voice cracking back, like a spring. He'd been hearing it all around him, but the effect had faded into the drone babble of the crowd.  Being faced with it, he noticed it right off.

"What gave it away?" Chase asked, but his voice was deliberately casual and charming.

The woman tittered and then said, "Oh, just could be I've got an eye for these sorts o' things. Now, dearie, what'll ya be having?"

Chase blinked and looked at Jack.

Jack grinned and said, "Two adult admittances, no parking; two Daily Ride bracelets, and a roll of Ride Tickets."

The woman nodded.  "That'll be forty dollars, hon."

Chase handed a thick wallet over to Jack, who opened it and fished out two twenties to give to the woman.

She gave Chase a sympathetic look.  "Haven't spent much time in America, hon?"

"Not much, no," Chase replied, allowing a trace of his homeland's accent to lace his words, though he could speak roughly 392 languages – dead or alive – as fluently as he cared to.

Jack knew what Chase was capable of linguistically.  When you had the time, why not learn different languages?  He knew what Chase was up to: Camouflage.  It was easier to let people see – or hear – what they wanted to than to let them in on the truth.  Chase was hiding in plain sight.

Admiration filled Jack, but he said nothing other than a polite "Thank you, ma'am" to the woman who handed over two thick red rubber bands and a roll of tickets.  Then, she held up a rubber stamp coated with ink.

Jack decided to demonstrate and simply held out his right hand.  The opening of the glove across the back of his right hand was large enough for her to press the mark into his skin, which showed up clearly against the whiteness.

Chase watched the display with distaste, but realized he wasn't going to be allowed entry without being stamped.  He calmly put his hand forward, noting how the woman took the opportunity to make as much contact with him as she could, and allowed the ink to be pressed into his skin.  He felt the glimmer and ripple of scales beneath his skin, but subdued his natural instinct to mutilate her. Knowing that his minion was watching, he even went so far as to smile warmly at the matronly woman and slip a quick wink to her.  The blush that took her face and the excited fluttering amused him, and then he caught Jack by the shoulder and led the teen away to the open gate.

"Hitting on the elderly, Chase?" Jack groused as he and his overlord showed the guards at the gate their stamped hands and were ushered inside.  "Are you really that desperate?"

"It isn't as though you put out on a regular basis," Chase replied calmly, and laughed when Jack choked briefly before coughing hysterically.  Patting his minion firmly on the back, he added, "Besides, I'm older than she is. That puts things in perspective."

"That is a disturbing mental visual," Jack muttered, but he let it go.  His eyes had just locked on a familiar ride.  "The Gravitron!"

Chase followed his minion's line of sight to see what looked like a stereotypical UFO spinning around in the middle of the fairgrounds.  "The what?"

"The Gravitron!  Its function is making use of centrifugal force.  Inside the 'spaceship' are several 'lab tables' that people stand up against. The 'tables' are actually moving slabs that are covered with padding. When the ride starts up, it spins around and around, gaining momentum. Once you have enough G-force that you can stick to the slab without falling off, you hop up and allow the centrifugal force to pin you in place.  The slabs will be pulled up to the ceiling for a few seconds, then lowered again. It will repeat for the duration of the ride, and when it's over, you just step down onto the floor neatly as gravity is returned to you."

Chase grinned at his minion.  "Your inner science geek is entirely in love, isn't it, Spicer?"

Jack smirked even as he blushed.  "Hey – just because I know how it works doesn't make it any less fun."

Chase then insisted they make a circuit of the entire fair before committing to anything.  The rides were spread out as needed, and Jack explained the Swing Ride, the SeaDragon, the Mini Rollercoaster, the kiddie rides, and the Double Loop.  From there, they moved on, walking past the Fun House, and Chase especially wanted to know why Jack shuddered.

"Because they usually have a 'Haunted House' in there," Jack said.

"Is that where people are saying you escaped from?" Chase asked, frowning.

Jack blinked.  "What?"

"I've overheard several of the oh-so-charming patrons commenting on your appearance. They deduced that you escaped from something called the 'sideshow'."

Jack flinched and looked away.  "Uh... no.  The sideshow is where the 'freaks of nature' are kept.  Like, the Bearded Lady, and the Bat Boy, and... you know; folks who appear to be mutated from the human norm."

Chase was silent as he digested this information.  Then, he growled softly and reached up to gently stroke a finger across one breeze-cooled white cheek.  When Jack looked up at him, he said simply, "I will kill them all for you if you ask it of me."

Jack's eyes widened.  After a stunned moment, he grinned bashfully and said, "N-No... thanks, but no thanks, Chase. People are just jerks; always have been, always will be. Let's just have fun, okay?"

A wicked smile took Chase's face.  "What makes you think I wouldn't have fun?"

Red eyes rolled up briefly before settling back down.  The look in them was warm; at odds with the exasperation on Jack's face.  "Blending in, remember?"

"Serial killers do it all the time."

"Chaaaaaaaase..."

A rich, husky chuckle.  "Very well, Jack – I will behave myself." A pause. "For you."

A pink tinge heated Jack's cheeks and Chase stroked over the blush.  Noticing that touching Jack was drawing more interest than their looks alone did, Chase finally dropped his hand and nodded at Jack to continue.

They toured the entire circuit, with Jack explaining the concepts behind the various games they passed.

"And you said they're rigged to fail?" Chase murmured, deliberately keeping his voice down.

"Mmm-hmmm. Rigged so that if you don't throw a hoop a precise way, it won't fit over the rim of a bottle.  They look like they're big enough to fit, but distance vision is used against people in this instance. The hoops are only three-fourths of a centimeter larger than the bottle rims. The darts are fletched in such a way that it puts a spin on them when you throw, and the balls are loaded for the knock-down game."

"I take it that the big prizes are very rarely won," Chase muttered, glancing at the absolutely humongous stuffed animals hanging from the various carts and wagons and stalls.

"Very, very rarely.  Only someone who's 'in the know' or who's attended a particular fair for a long time know how to get around them." Jack grinned.  "My genius was put to work winning an insane amount of stuffed animals for my cousin Megan."

Sensing a slight wistfulness in Jack's demeanor, Chase glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing," Jack said a moment later, correctly interpreting the look given to him.  "Just... sometimes, I wished someone would win one for me.  Not 'cause I needed or really wanted the toy, but because it'd mean someone competed and won something for me."

Chase said nothing. The way Jack pointedly looked away was an indication for the topic to be dropped, and so he allowed it.

Eventually, they found their way past the midway and into the agricultural area.  Chase looked over several plants with interest in the horticultural barn – something that surprised Jack to no end, until he recalled the private garden at the top level of the mountain, as well as the trees and shrubs that dotted the tiers.  Chase knew how to care for plants.

The Arts and Crafts barn was given a look through, but neither of them was entirely interested – though Jack did like the rich colors on the oil crayons on display.

The animal pens were next, and Jack was surprised when Chase paused to look at a stall filled with a fat white pig.  He glanced up at his overlord.  "What?"

"I can see that one between two thick slices of toasted sourdough," Chase murmured with a grin, nodding at the pig, whose ear was flapping lazily to flick away a fly.

Jack blinked, but Chase wasn't done.  Pointing to a pen nearby, he said of the sheep inside, "They have me thinking of mint sauce."

Catching on, Jack grinned and then gestured to the racks of cages that held fluffy rabbits and said, "What about these?"

"Stew."

Jack laughed, but Chase thought for a moment and then added, "And perhaps a new pair of winter gloves."

"Is it time to get something to eat?" Jack asked, still snickering.

"I think that would be wise."

They backtracked out to the main avenue and Jack led the way to the hotdog stand.  Chase hung back after giving Jack the wallet, and soon enough, Jack returned with two paper troughs filled with steaming food and two bottles of water.

"Let's find a place out of the way to eat these," Jack said, and Chase scouted out a likely area and led the way.

Once there, he accepted a bottle of water as he sat on a bench, and then the paper trough. Inside was a bread substance split in half.  A long tube of something bright red rested against it, which he assumed was the hotdog.  Piled on it were a red paste, a yellow paste, and then a chunky green sauce.

The sight was revolting but the smell was tantalizing.  He glanced at Jack for instruction, and watched as his minion picked the food up in his hand by pinching the bread halves together, leaned forward with the trough cupped under his chin, and took a bite from the other end and began chewing.

Chase sighed and copied the gesture, and a moment later, his eyes widened as his mouth came alive at the new flavors and textures.

Jack watched and laughed as Chase chewed thoughtfully, experimentally... and then proceeded to eat the rest of the hotdog rapidly with great enjoyment.

He also wasn't surprised when Chase fastidiously wiped the outside of his mouth and chin clean with one of the paper napkins provided and held out the wallet with a pointed look.

Setting aside his own meal, Jack fished out a ten and handed it over to Chase.  "That's enough for three more hotdogs with the works."

"The works...?"

"Well, normally that'd include chili and onions slathered on as well, but this is fairground food, which means the basics of ketchup, mustard, and relish. Just tell the guy how many you want, tell him 'with the works', and wait for him to assemble the food. You hand him the paper bill, if there's any change, he gives that back, and you're free to scarf down your hotdogs."

Chase growled and snatched the paper bill from Jack.  "I'm aware of how currency is used, Spicer."  With that, he stalked off towards the hotdog vendor.

Jack picked up his own meal and ate slowly, watching as Chase ordered three more hotdogs with the works.  The money-for-food exchange was made, and Chase soon came back, looking mighty pleased with himself. One of the new purchases was handed to Jack, who accepted because he was hungry, too, and had just finished his first hotdog.  By the time he was done, Chase had polished off both of his hotdogs and drained the bottle of water entirely.

Jack grinned at Chase.  "Like the hotdogs?"

Chase let out a mild belch and grinned back at Jack.  "Yes. I'll see about having some brought into the mountain. What now?"

"Now, we either play a few games or we walk the circuit again.  We have to wait."

Chase aimed a calculating stare at the row of game vendors.

Jack saw it.  "If you plan to play to win, you might wanna wait until we're about to go home. Otherwise, you'll be carrying all that stuff around with you."

"Unless I discretely send it back to the mountain," Chase reminded him.

"Oh, yeah!" said Jack sheepishly. "Uh... well, in that case... Or we could do the Fun House."

"You didn't look all that thrilled at the idea before," Chase said skeptically.

"Well, maybe it's different from the other one I went to."

"What was wrong with the other one?"

Jack shuddered and fear filled his eyes.  "Clowns."

The look Chase gave his minion was the sheer definition of incredulity.

Nevertheless, the two of them threw away their trash and went to the Fun House.

The Fun House was actually a mini-carnival tucked out of sight behind a canvas wall that stretched the length of a football field.  Inside, Jack led the way first to the Sideshow, and Chase saw human deformities that made it abundantly clear why the people outside had made such scathing remarks about Jack.  However, these mortals – or "Carnies" as Jack called them – seemed to take their existence in stride and made their deformities work for them.

Then, as they were heading for a line that would get them into the Fun House, a voice rang out.

"Hey! Chink! You and the Vampire wanna play?"

Chase froze and Jack did, too.

Chase, who had been around long enough to know what "Chink" meant, slowly turned to face the direction of the voice.  He didn't betray any surprise when he found a man sitting on a platform over a deep tub of water, protected by a cage.

"Yeah, Chinky, I'm talkin' to you," the man said with a wicked grin.  "You understand English? Hah?"

Chase understood well enough, but he looked to Jack nevertheless, who decided to play along for now.  In fluent Mandarin, Jack said, "That's the Dunking Booth.  See the wide square off to the left and the stack of balls on the table? Your task is to give tickets to the guy by the table. You have to hit the square with those balls – you get three throws – and if you do, it triggers a release underneath the seat the man in the cage is sitting on, and he'll be dumped into the water."

"Ohhhhhhhhh... so that's why you've got the little vampire with you!" the man crowed.  "And here I thought he was your boy-toy!  Thought you'd make some whoopee on the midway, Chin Fee?"

Playing along, Jack dutifully translated with a barely hidden grin, and Chase narrowed his eyes at the man in the cage.

"It's gonna take more than a dirty look to make me shut up. C'mon, Bruce Lee, gimme all ya got!  Or what...? You don't have enough time 'cause you gotta feel up Rob Zombie in the dark?"

Again, Jack translated, but now he wasn't quite so amused.

The man in the cage noticed it and smirked.  "What'sa matter, whitey? Fu Manchu isn't man enough for ya? C'mere, kid – I'll tell it to ya straight how to find the path to my inner enlightenment!" With that, he grabbed his crotch suggestively.

A dark tension took hold of Chase.  He waited only long enough for Jack to "translate" and then he was stalking forward.  He plunked down two tickets, ignoring the amused smirk on the ticket handler's face, and accepted the three balls handed to him.  He stepped back to the white line drawn in the grass, rolling the spheres in his hands.  He could feel how they had been unevenly balanced, and would compensate appropriately.

Jack glanced at him.  "Are you sure about this?" he asked in Mandarin.

"Very." The single word was a dangerous growl, and the people around who heard the tone began to gather, subconsciously realizing that a battle was about to take place.

"C'mon, Kim Chee, do your worst!" taunted the man in the cage.

A heartbeat later, he was yelping as he splatted down into the water below him.

The cool water that was edging towards cold in the autumn chill.

Chase smirked as he heard the man sputtering and thrashing to the surface. He started to step forward to return the other two balls, but was stopped when the man at the ticket table held up his hand.  Two others were on a platform behind the cage, resetting the seat and helping the Taunter out of the water.

"Tell him he paid for three throws, he gets three throws," the ticket handler said to Jack.

Dutifully, Jack relayed the information.

The predatory smile that curved Chase's face was frightening to see.

The cheers and good-natured cat-calling that had erupted from the crowd died down, and they waited with bated breath as the Taunter once again resumed his seat.

The Taunter cleared his throat and then put his smirk back on his face.  "That the best you got, Bruce?  Lay it on me, baby!  You probably got lucky the first time 'cause you're right on a level with the target!  Short little gook like you, you probably can't—“

Jack was translating, word for word, at the same time.  Chase waited, and upon hearing the word "gook" he let fly – deliberately missing the target.

Before the crowd's "Boo!" and the Taunter's "Hah!" had died away, the third ball slammed with sufficient power into the target that the Taunter was ejected from his seat, bounced off the cage, and plopped into the water.

Stunned silence held the crowd for a moment.  Then, wild cheers erupted.

Supremely pleased with himself, Chase turned to Jack and asked, "Did I win anything?"

Jack laughed.  "Only my eternal admiration for wiping that guy out. I can't believe you didn't slaughter him when he called you 'Chink'!"

Chase shrugged and turned to lead the way to the Fun House, surreptitiously avoiding the backslaps the crowd tried to give him. "Name-calling is easy to ignore." He gave Jack a hot, level stare. "But his suggestion that you abandon me to service him was unacceptable."

Jack was silent for a moment.  Then, nudging Chase's arm carefully with his elbow, he grinned and said, "I'm not going anywhere."

The extremely pleased smirk that graced Chase's features was frightening to look at.

*~*~*

"Okay, I should warn you," Jack said as he and Chase settled into the last of the six small cars that made up the Fun House train; "the inside is rigged so that things will be flashing and flying at us. It's meant to shock and startle, so please don't go lizard and eat something."

Chase gave his minion a jaundiced stare.  "Now that I know about it, how is it going to 'shock and startle' me?"

"Would you rather have gone all Warlord Badass on the place and thus miss out on funnelcake and cotton candy?" Jack countered.

Chase thought about that and relented.

"Very well," he said, and stared in consternation as the bar he'd been holding onto suddenly moved of its own volition to lock down across his lap.

"Don't worry," Jack said. "It's just the safety bar."

Chase snorted.  "It isn't safe enough to protect them from me if I get much more irritated."

That all this was being said in Mandarin insured zero frightened looks being sent his way.