Sinestro: AuthorityMature

Sinestro woke in his bed in his train car, stiff and aching. He groaned as he sat up and stretched his sore muscles, frowning at the chill air inside the car. Did he leave a window open?

"Getting older is rough," a smooth voice said from a shadowy corner of the car. "Pity you won't have to worry about it much longer. Age is one of life's finest tortures."

“I thought you left.” Sinestro growled, adjusting his eyepatch.

“Thought I would keep an eye on my… investment.” Thanos sneered, coming out of the shadows, still in his fine black suit from last night. “I trust that won’t be an issue.”

“Of course not,” Sinestro said, hinting at sarcasm, pulling on his coat. “Make yourself at home. I have a circus to attend to.”

He stepped out into the morning sunlight, wincing slightly as it shone in his eye. Nearby several performers were already up, stretching and practicing their acts. Everything seemed in order except…


Shaking his head, Sinestro stomped towards the big top, first stepping backstage, to find the animal tamer.

“Donovan!” He yelled. The wild young man stood up from where he crouched near a cage. He said nothing and Sinestro sneered at the already disheveled appearance of his lion tamer.

“Clean these cages, these creatures are living in filth!” Sinestro barked. “And reduce their food. We want them vicious, not spoiled.” Donovan seemed to growl, but complied as Sinestro turned away heading toward the big top, yelling at other performers as he walked.

“Stand up straight, don’t walk like someone’s about to whip you!” “You’re too skinny, put some meat on your bones!” “Don’t you dare let those boxes touch the ground!”

He strode into the tent to see the tightrope walker, Savian, practicing about 30 feet in the air, and some stagehands moving things around in the seats.

“Savian! Get down here!” Sinestro barked. Savian came down from the tightrope with more grace and agility than any other circus performer could dream of.

"What do you need, General?"

Sinestro thought about the show the night before, and a brilliant idea struck him. "Tonight, you will wear black wings, as part of your costume." Savian began to protest, but Sinestro held up a hand, shutting him up. "At the end of your act, Savian, I want you to fall." When he hit the ground, in an explosion of feathers. That would be a sight. 

"But, sir, it's not poss--"

"Fall, blast it!" Sinestro shouted. "Our fallen angel, straight from heaven to this circus. Do not deny me this success."

"I-I will try, general." Savian just seemed angry, but he could not say no. But just for good measure, Sinestro added:

"If you do not fall at the proper moment, I will feed to to the griffins, piece by piece."

With those words, he turned on his heal and sauntered out of the tent.

He felt better.

The End

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