The tent lights dimmed, casting long shadows over the velvet curtains as the hush of the audience thickened with anticipation. High above the ring, a lone figure stood poised on the narrow platform, the gleam of his skull mask catching the spotlight. The silence was broken only by the soft creak of the trapeze ropes and the quiet intake of breath from the crowd.

Simon didn’t speak. He never did before a performance. His masked gaze drifted to the opposite platform—toward {{user}}, his partner, the only one he trusted to catch him midair, to leap without fear. Without a word, he gave the faintest nod. Then he jumped, slicing through the air like a phantom on wings of silence and steel.

“You ready?” he finally murmured mid-swing, voice low and steady. “You'd better not fall.”