"Where is your father’s grave?" the agent asked.
"Over there." Linda pointed in a direction.
They walked over together and arrived at a dark gray gravestone, which read "Zida Hughes Berg."
"So your last na is Berg?"
Linda nodded. The agent kept observing her actions, but she remained stiff and awkward, not revealing anything conclusive. The agent couldn’t help but consider using Psychoanalysis thod, but unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at it and didn’t discern any emotions.
While the agent was pondering, his gaze moved past the large gravestone and found another smaller gravestone behind it, which also bore the na "Berg."
He glanced at Linda first, then asked, "Who is this? Your father’s brother?"
Linda shook her head and said, "This is my younger brother."
"Oh, I’m sorry," the agent said, "Did he... pass away young?"
Linda nodded and said, "He had a strange illness and died when he was 4.’
"How tragic." The agent quickly made the sign of the cross over his chest and said, "He will be the most adorable angel by the Lord’s side."
Unexpectedly, Linda glanced at him and asked, "Are you a Christian?"
"Yes, I’m from England, and I’m a Protestant. Have you heard of the Baptist Church?"
Linda shook her head, and the agent didn’t dwell on the topic but continued, "Your mother must have been very heartbroken at that ti. Such a poor lady. But there are indeed not many people here. Didn’t you consider moving to the city?"
Linda remained silent. The agent looked at her—she appeared like a rigid corpse, although she should have been in her pri. If it weren’t for her breathing and body warmth, the agent might have thought she was the source of so supernatural phenonon.
Then the agent rembered the billboard upon entering the town and asked, "I saw an advertisent with a clown at the town’s entrance. Do you have clown performances here?"
"No," Linda said, "at least not anymore."
"So there were performances before? I’m actually quite interested in circus performances from the last century, but unfortunately, most are not allowed now. I heard they were very popular on the West Coast."
"There was a circus in town a long ti ago," Linda said, "but that was a long ti ago, and I’ve never seen them."
"Were they here before you were born?"
"Probably. I heard they used to perform in that small square, but sothing happened later, and they didn’t perform anymore."
The agent thought: here cos the key point. But he didn’t imdiately press for what happened then; instead, he said, "Indeed. This town doesn’t have many people; it’s probably more profitable to perform in the city... Sorry, I’m a businessman and sotis look at problems from a profit perspective."
Linda shook her head and said, "If you’re really interested, you can check the warehouse next to the square; there are so props they left behind."
"Props? Circus performance props?"
"I think so, but I haven’t been there. My mother doesn’t let go. It’s getting late, I need to go back and make fishing rods, you can go around yourself."
With that, Linda turned and walked back. The agent and their companion followed her until they parted ways at the end of a path—Linda walked toward the old house, while they turned toward the small square.
As they reached the small square, they saw two familiar figures. The agent walked over and said to Bruce, "Thank you for saving us that day. But didn’t you say you were going back to town? Why are you still here?"
"Our motorcycle broke down," Kent said, sighing as if in imitation of soone. "The roads here are too rough, and we hadn’t gone far before the motorcycle had problems. It’s our fault for not checking it; now we can only wait for my colleague to bring so parts."
"I see, but what are you doing here?"
"Then why are you here?" Bruce retorted.
"Aunt Cain’s daughter, Linda, said there used to be circus performances here. I’m quite interested in such things, so I ca to take a look."
"They perford here?"
"That’s right. Linda also said they left so props in a warehouse nearby. I was just planning to look for them. Don’t underestimate things from the last century; they might have so collectible value, so I’m going to rummage through them."
"You’d better not plan on taking things secretly," Kent said, pushing his glasses.
"It’s nothing. That circus doesn’t exist anymore, and these items are ownerless. Even if I take one or two, it’s not illegal. Besides, there’s not even a police station in the town..."
The agents deliberately leaked the intel to the two, mainly because neither of them was in good shape—one couldn’t lift his left hand, and the other had a wound on his abdon. If they just stord into that warehouse and got startled by a jack-in-the-box, they’d be finished.
However, the Batman and Superman duo didn’t seem to have any issues. Given their cautious yet kind nature, they probably hadn’t gotten into any significant trouble, so they were in relatively good condition. It was best for them to scout the way.
Soone as smart as Batman couldn’t possibly miss Shiller’s hint. So he said nothing, just glanced in the direction the agent indicated and then walked over there.
The square wasn’t actually very large, and it was surrounded by comrcial buildings, which seed to have been shops selling goods in the past. Only one building was particularly unique, with no windows or storefront, appearing to be a warehouse.
They walked towards it. It was a sowhat old wooden house, and the surroundings were quite dilapidated, with plenty of dust. Bruce took the lead into the yard, but Kent stepped in front of him, signaling him to step back with his eyes.
The agent thought to himself: It looks like Batman and Superman of this world have reconciled. But then again, they never held grudges overnight; at most, they would fight it out, and everything would be fine afterward.
However, Bruce’s subsequent actions were sowhat unexpected to the agent. He didn’t step aside; instead, he directly pushed the door open.
Alright then, retract the previous judgnt. The agent thought to himself that for Batman to abandon his caution and do sothing like this as if in a fit of pique, it seed they were still in a cold war. Who knew why they partnered up to clear this scenario; it couldn’t possibly be to shove the other when a ghost jumps out, could it? That would be a bit too malicious.
Bruce took the lead inside, Kent followed closely behind, and the agent also went in, while the Hunter stayed outside to keep watch.
As soon as they entered the room, the agent was a bit surprised: How could it be this dark inside in broad daylight?
Upon closer inspection, all the windows of this warehouse were sealed tight; so tight not even light could get through. However, due to years of disrepair, there were a few holes in the ceiling, allowing so weak light to filter down, making it possible to see things.
As they continued forward, they ca across a heap of clutter, and the agent realized he might have misunderstood—it wasn’t just so stuff left here; it seed the entire Circus had been left here. Except for things that breathed, all the belongings were here.
The first pile was a disassembled circus tent, like those red-and-white round tents often seen in gas and movies. In earlier years, these tents used wooden poles; now they were just a pile of rotten wood. However, the fabric was still relatively well-preserved; the wavy edges of the canopy with so string lights entwined were visible.
To the other side was a large heap of steel fras, seemingly the kind set up for tightrope, with a High Tower on each end and a steel cable stretched across, over which acrobats would ride a bicycle or sothing.
Behind these items were bicycles, unicycles, flaming hoops, and ropes and whips for animal taming. Further back were many large iron cages, possibly used to house fierce beasts; judging by their rusty state, they had been abandoned for a long ti.
At the back of the cages were two large boxes. Just as they were about to go over and look, the agent spoke up to remind them, "Don’t go over, use this."
The agent picked up a fire tong nearby—probably used to light flaming hoops—and handed it to Bruce. Bruce glanced at him but said nothing, only his gaze flicked over the agent’s motionless left hand.
The agent knew Batman must have noticed sothing was off with his left hand and guessed they might have been subjected to so malign punishnt. But it didn’t matter much since the agent had a gun, and the curse hadn’t hit his dominant hand, which was a stroke of luck.
Kent, without hesitation, took the fire tong and slowly approached one of the big boxes. The box wasn’t tightly closed; so fabric was poking out, looking like costus for a performance.
Kent pried the box lid open, and amid a puff of dust, with a creak, the black box was opened. Seeing what was inside, the three of them froze in place.
At the edge of the town, at the Forest’s end. Kate slamd a hand on the steering wheel and cursed, "I knew sothing was wrong. We can’t get out."
"Keep driving forward?" Peter said, "There might be a road ahead."
Kate shook her head and said, "I counted it on the way in. It took exactly 26 minutes and 12 seconds on the rural road; it can’t be wrong."
Peter hesitated slightly and said, "What exactly did you see in the bathroom? Why did you drag out so early? You know we ca here because..."
Kate suddenly turned her head to stare at Peter. Peter stopped mid-sentence, glanced at the void above, and then said, "I know losing a child was a terrible disaster for you. But Kate, we can’t stay mired in the past."
"You wanted to accompany you back ho, and I ca with you. I gave up a promising future in Chicago and moved to this obscure little town. You wanted to go back to your aunt’s place, and I ca with you, even though she wasn’t nice to , I didn’t complain. But now you suddenly want to run away again, why is that?"
"You don’t believe sothing happened to our child because of this town, right?" Kate sneered, looking up at the void above, "Didn’t you want to know what I saw in the bathroom? Fine, let’s go back, and I’ll show you."
Having said that, she turned the car around and drove back towards the town. Half an hour later, she returned to the old house. Aunt Cain was tinkering with sothing in the backyard, and seeing them return, she didn’t greet them, as if she hadn’t even noticed them.
Kate dragged Peter all the way to the second floor, directly pushing open Aunt Cain’s room door, then the bathroom door.
Peter followed her slowly into the bathroom, where the sight was even more decayed and dilapidated than the rest of the house.
But what shocked him the most was the skeleton lying in the bathtub, dressed identically to Aunt Cain.
At this mont, ti in the small town seed frozen. In the darkness of the Circus warehouse, sothing lurking in the shadows flickered with a terrifying presence beneath their feet.
Kent withdrew his hand as the dust gradually settled. Inside the opened black box was a male mummy wearing a Joker costu.
And as everyone stood in shock, amidst a teeth-grating sound of bone friction, the corpse slowly began to move.
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