Overload [Transnistria/public]

This carnival thing was not as idiotic as he thought. He had never gotten praise for much of anything before.

That's what the applause was, right?

From the get-go, he was introduced as being the Golem from "the bowels of the Russian Taiga", which of course, he had no problem with. They had told him not to talk any, just make grunting noises.

Done. Half of the time that was how he talked to people anyways.

He had lifted 100 lbs, 200 lbs, a tractor tire, and 300 lbs. But the end was the big finale. Some stagehands brought over a barbell with something like a small pew on either side. Since he wasn't great for public speaking, the stagehand spoke for him.

"For our finale, I must ask for six young ladies to come up onto the stage-- yes, you, and you, and you..." Frightened but ecstatic squeals followed.

Women had never been so happy to get near him before.

Maybe he would stay here longer than he thought. Three women got on either side of the barbell, and he stood behind it, brushing chalk onto his hands. The bad thing about this job was that he would be in serious pain the next day. This much weight was major overload. But he would do it, he bet the lives of six smiling gorgeous women on it.

He hefted up the bar with grunts and difficulty, covered by the squeals of the girls. The bar was at chin level now-- one more pump, and he would be halfway there. Screams went through the six women as he suddenly held the bar over his head.

Now he had to get them down. His arms wobbled dangerously as he moved it back down to his chin. His muscles burned as if they were on fire. His back threatened to give out when he bent to replace the bar on the ground.

Finally, he succeeded. He did feel proud when one of the girls was brave enough to stand on her toes and kiss his sweaty cheek. But under his fierce grin was growing muscle pain.

As he was given his leave, he took it gratefully and collapsed onto a bench backstage, wiping sweat out of his eyes. How often would he have to do this a week?

Amon was twirling his wand and humming to himself. He had been watching his performance of the "Golem". He was grinning through the entire thing. But when he saw the strongman lifting pretty girls up in the air, several stagehands had to stuggle to keep the Osakan's mouth shut. Then again when Cosim got kissed by one of the girl.

So when the strongman got to the bench, Amon clapped him on the back. Hard. "Y'all got lucky, didn't you!"

He grinned, oblivious to the how much more pain he may have caused the other man. "Maybe you'll get lucky again after the show ends!" He continued to hit Cosim on the back, not aware of the injuries that may get inflicted on him. "Tat was cool tho'! How you lifted those things up! I could never do tha'!" He grinned even wider, eventually stopping the back clapping.

(So short, I'm sorry... :I'' )

Nicoleta was stretching when she heard a burst of applause from onstage. Looked like 'Golem' did a job well done. Not that she would ever praise him for it.

After popping her back (she was getting way too old for this) she grabbed a towel, strolled over to her 'son', and then paused to watch as another Ragtag continuously pounded on the man's back. Nicoleta couldn't help but flinch with each painful smack that emitted from Cosim's back, offering a forced smile towards both men when it stopped.

"How'd it go?" She tossed him the towel, not really caring what he had to say.

And that was what she couldn't understand.

She loved her children dearly, but Cosim....She didn't feel..happy around him. Just frustration and anger.

He didn't see anyone approach him; his head was buried in his hands, trying to stretch his back out as best as he could.

But suddenly it felt like he was being stabbed repeatedly. Lifting his head immediately and finally registering that he wasn't really being attacked, just congratulated by an inarticulate Asian, he muttered, "Thanks..." He wasn't sure who this was. And he was too tired to wonder. Normally on days like this he would go immediately from backstage back to the men's caravan and sleep (it was the only time he really could-- his snoring kept too many up at night.) for the rest of the day. But now he was being engaged and he was too exhausted to bite back. "Who are you...?"

Then another voice greeted him, something familiar but unwanted. Nicoleta. The reason he had left his surrogate home so early, had gotten into crime, and had become who he was. As large as he was, as stoic as he seemed, the only emotion he registered with that voice was fear. He remembered her not feeding him, shunning him, even hitting him (more out of her own sorrow perhaps than her hatred of him) but for the life of him he couldn't remember why. And that only stirred up more animosity.

He didn't give a verbal apology when he caught the towel, just nodded and dragged it over his face, to both wipe sweat away and to hide his own anxiety. Was she trying to repair bridges that were already burned?

Amon stopped his hitting and grinned even wider at him. "Ah'm Amon. That one dude that makes puns come true!" He swished his wand for emphasis. "What's yer real name? Ah only heard your stage name and stuff and-" He continued to ramble on until he noticed Nicoleta. He waved to her. "How y'all doin'?" He then continued to talk/annoy Cosim.

"So how do ya do that stuff? Are ya just like that? Do ya drink milk?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Do ya takes steroids...?" He smiled at the strongman, waiting for a response. "Well, do ya?"



( SO SHORT. ASDFGHJK...)

"Really. How does that work." He tried to make it into a question-- at any other time he really would have been interested. With a groan he stood up and replaced the Golem garb with a not-clean-enough wife beater and looked for some water. He was sort of glad he got this job-- it made him first priority when it came to receiving all-too-precious water in this drought. Though at the moment he'd rather douse himself in it than drink it. He took a swig from a nearby pail while barely listening to his... Fan?

He considered what questions he was willing to answer and decided just to make a statement. "My name is Zahorchak. And," he truly believed it was the real explanation. "A man can do anything if he doesn't worry about the consequences."

How true. At that moment, he grabbed the belt loop in on the rigt side of his pants with both hands and twisted his waist, his spine making a sickening pop as if he were an action figure who got twisted too far and just needed another twist back so that his legs weren't on backwards.

Amon cried out with a sparkle in his eye. "MAGIIICC..." He started to wiggle his arms to prove that magic really did make his puns come true. "And all tha' strength is through sheer willpower? That's so weird, but I can make puns be alive and..." He fired off questions and just plain babbling without letting Cosim talk through any of it.

Then he stopped when the other man cracked his back. His eye twitched a little and had an odd expression on his face. "Errr..."

Cosim really didn't believe in magic. But he didn't really know how he could even lift as much as he did, either.

He caught the man's expression when he turned around and pulled a flask out of his bag. "Consequence." He shrugged, guzzling down the stinging alcohol. That would take care of the pain until he could sleep it off.