The Greatest Showman in Gotham

Gotham City in the 19th Century

"Smile, Jack," muttered Joseph Napier to his teenage son, as he rang the bell of the spacious mansion in front of them. "We want to make a good impression on the Quinzels."

"Why? They're still gonna look down their noses at us, whatever we do," retorted Jack Napier. "Everyone always looks down their nose at us, Dad."

"That doesn't mean we give them the satisfaction of letting them know they get to us," retorted Joseph. "You shouldn't mind what other people think of you, Jack. Just put on your best clothes, and a cheerful demeanor, and deal with whatever comes with a smile."

Jack grimaced, looking down at his patchy clothes which had been personally repaired by himself many times. "There's just gotta be more to life than this, Dad," he murmured.

"Well, there isn't," retorted Joseph. "I know you've got your head in the clouds most of the time, Jack, and you've got quite an imagination, I'll give you that. But sooner or later, you have to grow up and face reality. You have to learn to deal with life as it is."

Jack shrugged. "That seems kinda defeatist to me," he said. "Where's the fun in facing reality? I'd rather live in a world that I design."

"You're not rich enough for that," snapped Joseph. "And only rich people can live the life they want. Fun is for people like the Quinzels. You and I are stuck with our miserable lot in life, so just get used to it, Jack."

The front door was opened at that moment by a stern-looking man. "Mr. Quinzel?" asked Joseph, removing his hat.

"You must be the tailor – come in," said Mr. Quinzel, holding open the door for him.

"Joseph Napier, sir, at your service," said Joseph, bowing. "This is my son, Jack, also my apprentice."

"How do you do?" asked Mr. Quinzel, in a tone that implied he didn't really care. "We'll have the fitting in the living room if you don't mind."

"Not at all – what a lovely place you've got here, if I may say so," said Joseph, as he and Jack followed Mr. Quinzel down the hall. "You have exquisite taste, Mr. Quinzel."

"Thank you – it's actually my wife's doing, for the most part," said Mr. Quinzel, gesturing them into a room. "Allow me to introduce her. Mr. Napier, my wife Gladys, and my daughter, Harleen."

Jack's smile, which had been one of forced politeness, suddenly fell as he gazed upon Harleen Quinzel. She was a stunningly beautiful young woman, with golden hair and wide, blue eyes which looked back at him with a keen interest. And one of the things that most interested him, aside from her beauty, was the paper she was reading.

"You're a fan of The Police Gazette?" he asked, surprised.

Mr. Quinzel sighed. "Harleen, I have told you, that is not suitable reading material for young ladies!" he snapped, snatching it out of her hands. "It prints the most lurid stories of crimes and criminals and all manner of ghastly, obscene freaks!"

"What should I be reading, Father?" demanded Harleen. "Ladies journals about fashion and baking and husband hunting?"

"At least that might actually result in you getting a husband!" snapped her father. "While reading this nonsense will only put any sane man off!"

He tossed the paper into the fire. "Now come get measured for your new gown, which will also hopefully contribute to you finding a husband," he said. "Honestly, I'm nearly at my wit's end with you – there's only so much I can do to brush up your appearance, but then you open your mouth and put off any decent man."

Harleen came to stand next to her father, tears in her eyes. "Jack, you take care of her," said Joseph, opening his bag. "I'll measure Mr. Quinzel for his suit."

Jack nodded. "I think I'll…need a little more light – maybe we could go over by the fire?" he asked.

"As you wish," said Mr. Quinzel, nodding.

Harleen followed Jack over to the fire, and when he was sure they were out of earshot, Jack whispered, "Did you read that story last week about those Ripper murders in England?"

Harleen nodded. "Just horrible. You have to wonder what kind of mind would do something like that."

"A really messed up one," said Jack, nodding as he took out the tape measure. "Or just a huge attention-seeker. Somebody who understands that people are fascinated by the macabre and bizarre, anyway."

"Well, that's certainly true," agreed Harleen. "Although my father thinks I shouldn't be. Ladies should not wish to hear about such things, but I can't help being interested."

"Have you been to the wax museum on Kane Street yet?" asked Jack. "They have a huge section full of criminals – probably not very accurate, but certainly gory enough."

"My father would never allow me in such a place," said Harleen. "However much I might like to go."

Jack said nothing, measuring her height and arm span. "You wanna go with me?" he asked at last.

She stared at him. "I beg your pardon?" she asked.

"I could take you – you could sneak out tonight, out the window or something, and we could go together," he said. "It's really worth seeing if you're into the crime stuff."

"I've just met you," said Harleen, astonished. "And you ask me if I want to sneak out of my home in the middle of the night and accompany a total stranger to a crime exhibition at a wax museum?"

He shrugged. "Well, yeah. I mean, you said you wanted to go, and if your father won't let you…"

"Mr. Napier, I would have to be absolutely crazy to do a thing like that," she interrupted.

He slid the tape measure around her waist, pulling her close. "Well…maybe it's time to be a little crazy, toots," he murmured.

"You are an impudent man," said Harleen, gazing back into his wild green eyes.

"Is that a no?" he asked, smiling at her.

"I didn't say that, did I?" she asked, smiling back.

"You also didn't say yes," he said.

"Of course not," she replied. "A lady could not possibly say yes to such a proposition. But then again, if the exhibition is as good as you say, it would be a crime to miss it, and a lady would never be party to a crime. I will have to consider which is the lesser of two evils. Now do you have any more measurements to do, or may I go?"

"Nope, that's it," he said, removing the tape measure from around her waist. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I hope to see you soon, Miss Quinzel."

"Yes, you will, Mr. Napier," she replied, grinning at him. "You can count on that."

"What on earth did you think you were doing, flirting with the Quinzel girl like that?" demanded Joseph Napier, as he and his son left the house. "It's a damn good thing her father didn't notice, or he'd have thrown us both out on the spot! She's far, far too good for the likes of you, Jack."

"I think that's for her to decide," retorted Jack. "And I'll find out what she's decided soon enough. There's something special about her, Dad. Something in her eyes."

"What, madness?" demanded Joseph. "She would have to be, to get involved with you."

"Maybe that," agreed Jack. "We'll just have to wait and see."