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The darkness enveloped the Russian countryside with the exception of a small field just outside a small village. This was where Rasputin's Magnificent and Wild Show had set up shop for the night. The casting of performers were exclusively of mutanimal origin. These sideshows made a profit off of some of these poor mutanimals who keep them in sub-par conditions. Fortunately for the Ringmaster tonight, the banisters were filled to the brim with villagers. The crowd just hushed as the ring master made his way to the center ring, with a megaphone. the Ringmaster came to the center as he held up his megaphone. The best way he could be described is a brightly colored version of Joseph Stalin. The man had black, slicked back hair, and a thick mustache. He was garbed in the usual Ringmaster outfit of the red coat and tails and black pants and shoes, completed by the large black top hat on his head.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" he announced in Russian. "Our acts are only getting more and more insane as we continue on tonight! It is my privilege to introduce our next act. A relic from the fall of the Soviet Union, a soldier who knows no boundaries, no limits in his strength! He is known to even have been involved with many firefights with the Americans, and survived when the bullets... BOUNCED OFF OF HIM!" at this announcement, the crowd gasped in disbelief, chatting amongst themselves. "Please give a warm welcome to the favored son of Mother Russia. SERGEI!!!!! THE INDESTRUCTABLE!!!!"

The bear crept from the darkness of anonymity into the light and stood before the crowd. He was an astonishing seven feet tall with muscles rippling over every part of his body. He stood there with a wide smile and posed to the crowd, basking in their cheers and whistles. He wore a red spandex leotard that left very little to the imagination. He enjoyed the limelight, and it showed in that grin of his.

The crowd hushed as they heard the squealing of tires coming from outside of the tent. Before their eyes, the front of the tent opened to reveal an older model pickup truck rolling into the tent. Sergei turned defiantly towards the truck as the smile only grew wider. This was new to him, he hadn't done this trick with a truck before.

"Tonight Ladies and Gentlemen!" the ringmaster spoke again. "A local farmer has offered to let us use his truck for this act, worry not folks, neither the truck, no Sergei will be harmed, but I will ask for your complete and total silence."

Sergei cracked his knuckles and laughed to himself. He set his feet and shook his wrists loose. He was ready! He gave a simple nod and the band would start a drum roll. While the drumroll played, the car's tires began to spin, desperate to gain traction. Soon the truck would charge directly towards the bear, like a full grown bull with it's sights on goring him. The bear only grinned wider as he watched the truck inch closer and closer. At the last second, he quickly, yet gently placed one of his hands underneath the vehicle and hefts up the front. Before the truck continued to ramp off the bear, he quickly turned his body so he can place the other hand on the undercarriage. The crowd cheered as they watched the bear lift and hold the truck over his head with the greatest of ease. Just to show off, the bear began walking around the ring with the truck, giving it a few pumps as he would if he were lifting weights. After a little bit of showing off, the bear finally lays the car down on the ground, absolutely no damage done to it. Claps filled the air as he flexes both of his arms to the crowd, again smiling to them, showing off his huge biceps.

After the crowd died down from the excitement, the bear returned to the outside of the tent, and the ringmaster took his place "Ladies and Gentlemen, It is now time for our FINAL ACT!!!!! Long forgotten in the lore of Soviet Russia, stands a man who once raised as a Spetznaz child growing up, now reduced to a mere acrobat for human amusement! Watch Above, for the dextrous, the lucky RED FOX!!!!"

The crowd gazed to the top of the large tent to see a Red Fox upon the platform above the ground, hands raised with his entrance. He was garbed with a simple crimson leotard similar in design of Sergei's, only with a single gold star placed over the soviet symbol of the hammer and sickle crossing over each other.

He took a long breath as he watched the bar to swings closer to him. He simply nodded to himself and hops off platform, obviously not what most other trapeze artists do. It causes the crowd to gasp in fright. The fox grasped the bar without issue as he flings his body into hard swings to pick up more and more momentum. To him, everything went in slow motion with his swings. He concentrated on the rythem of the bars as they swing back and forth, knowing full well one mess up will be his doom. At the height of his swing, he releases and quickly corkscrews in the air several times before he grasps onto the opposite bar that was swung from the opposite side of the tent. The crowd cheered as the fox in mid air, let go of the bar to turn around and prepare for his next trick.

The Fox made several passes like this, showing off his acrobatic prowess with each jump. The crowd was absolutely dazzled with each trick he pulled off and stuck with ease. On the Fox's final pass though, He was prepared to pull off an almost impossible multi-somersault trick. The fox took extra time to be sure he had his momentum right. The fox took another deep breath as he released once again. He closed his eyes as the world seemed to slow down around him. He counted to himself in his head in Russian before opening his eyes to grasp on the bar. As he outstretched his arms for the bar, he notices the down swing would keep him out of reach. His eyes widen as the fox's worst fear came to life as he began to fall. His stomach would sink as his hand desperately grab the bar one last time, to no avail. His momentum would continue his flip in an uncontrolled spiral as he falls to the ground, without the normal safety net below him. Panic finally set in as he thinks to himself, This is it.., This is how I'm going to die!

He was about to close his eyes and resign himself to his fate, when he notices a rope swinging towards him. That glimmer of hope shined through as the rope closed in on him. He instinctively reached out as the rope came close enough and grasped onto the rope. The rope didn't have enough momentum to get him back up to the platform above, but it was long enough for him to hop down without injury. He slides down as far as he could down on the rope. He could feel his hands shake as the adrenaline kept pumping through his system from the free fall, making it almost impossible to hang on. He managed to let go of the rope and land safely back on the ground, raising his hands in victory. He had survived!

"What did I tell you folks?!" screamed the Ring Leader with excitement, "Is he not the luckiest man on the planet?!"

As the fox slowly made his way towards the entrance to the tent, he was greeted by the only friend he had, Sergei. The bear had been watching from the entrance, and gave a fake sigh of relief.

"Hard to top that act!" the bear said to the fox in Russian.

"Yeah... just wished I would have nailed that last one." the fox replied in Russian.

"That was not on purpose?" Sergei asked with a concerned look on his face.

"Of course not!" he said as the two walked off towards the backstage exit of the tent. "I thought that was it for me!"

"You really are lucky Fox!"

"I dunno..." he said softly as he sat down on a chest, clutching his hands together to stop their shaking. "I did end up here ya know."

"If you wanted out, you shouldn't have grabbed the rope" the bear replied.

He had a point. If he thought the circus was so terrible, why did he even grab the rope? he closed his eyes to pondering the question of why he still grabbed the rope, did he still have the will to live even after everything he dealt with? He began to flash back to each night of abuse A shiver ran up the fox's back suddenly, as the sound of the crowd, stirred up with excitement thanks to the show, snapped him back to reality.

"Time to pack up Fox..."

The night would be filled with laughter from the other members over supper and tales of prior exploits. The jovial mood didn't befall the fox though. He knew what this time of night brought for him, and it wasn't pleasant. He trudged as slowly as he could everynight to the ringmaster's carriage. He simply opened the door and made his way inside. The inside was in horrible disarray. Vodka and alcohol bottles were thrown about everywhere on the ground, including the old, rotting table the ringmaster used to count the money. To the fox's right, a cot hung from the wall of the carriage, filled with stains of only god knows what. While the fox was closing the door, the ringmaster, Rasputin turned in chair to face him. The smile that crept over his face would show the ringmaster's truly devious demeanor.

"Come in Red Fox..." he said with a pleased tone. The fox slowly approached with his ears drooped, not because of the tone, but because he knew where it lead. The man slowly stood up, placing the money on the table just behind him. "You made your quota today," he said in a seductive tone, "Means you get to have a more pleasurable experience tonight..."

The white fur of his cheeks gave way to the red of his cheeks, as he simply nodded. He always hated this time of night, but he had to submit. He remembered the nights when he first came here the fierce beatings he used to get when he was defiant to the ringmaster. His hands quivered as they reached for the shoulder straps of the leotard he wore. It was a size too small, so it took some working to get the tight fitting suit off of his body. As he lays finally steps out of the suit, he now stood naked before the ringmaster. The wicked man only smiled and playfully took a hold of his testicles, chuckling madly.

"That is good, Red Fox!" he replied loudly.

The rest of the Fox's night would be filled with horrible, deeply pornographic situations lasting until the light began creeping through the shoddily constructed walls of the wooden trailer. The Fox was shoved into spot of the hanging bed closest to the wall to keep him from escaping as the ringmaster slept underneath the bed sheets. The fox shivered, half of exertion, half of the cold. It really didn't help that the ringmaster was keeping the bedsheets to himself. He held no expression on his face, He thought about everything he had up until this moment. A once former Spetznaz child soldier reduced to the fuck toy of a sadistic ringmaster of mutanimals. Without warning, pain shot through the many open wounds all over his back with the sudden appearance of a cold breeze through the cracks of the walls. He was used to pain, "Pain is your body's way of saying, 'You're alive, you're still able to fight'" his instructor would tell him. He still winced at the pain, but made no sound from the sudden jolt. He clenched his fist tightly, he wanted to kill him, he wanted to end it, he could have easily done so. He knew the reason why, what would happen to the rest of the mutanimals under his so called "care." He huffed as his eyes slowly became heavy until sleep finally overcame him.