Ex-acrobat, now-founder of The Four Corners Imaginarium where he also exhibits himself as Grafik- The Tattooed Man.
Sarcastic and gruff to an extent that borders on cruel, Atticus has an uncanny ability to rub people the wrong way when the mood takes him (which, admittedly, is often). Those that have earned his respect know him to be shrewd, bold and compulsive and, despite his many failings, not unkind. Sheer bloody-mindedness and a deep-seated empathy for the strange and the outcast of this world has made Four Corners into a success and he buries himself in his work.
Born to a prostitute who died in childbirth, Atticus' earliest years were spent in destitution, living a miserable life in an orphanage in Carlisle. He was ten when the circus came to town and, on one of his many escape attempts, he remembers crawling under the pegged-down canvas of the big top and lying in the dirt below the lowest row of seats to watch the acrobatic troupe practice for their act that night. These were humans who could fly like sparrows, who seemed to weigh as little as a feather and, in their costumes, looked like birds of paradise. For the next three weeks, whenever he evaded the attentions of the sisters at the orphanage, he presented himself to the office of the ring leader, demanding to be taken in and trained as an acrobat. Every time the ring leader; a man named Micajah Bell, told him to get out of his sight. He was too old to begin training now and besides, who would pay for his bed and board until he could earn his own way? After a while, the circus went away and Atticus was left alone.
But summer came round again and once again he did the same. This time, the ring leader was so surprised to see the fierce-eyed boy demanding a training post and an odd-job position yet again after twelve months that he gave in. Within four years of training (during which he also sold tickets, mucked out the animal cages and cleaned the stands after shows), Atticus was ready to join the troupe. In another five, he was the main male lead and was widely said to be the best acrobat the circus had had in years.
All that changed, after her, after the accident.
He left the circus, part-cast-out, part-self-exiled and wandered aimlessly for a black few months until he was walking through London Docks one day and was struck with an idea. Soon, he was rapidly accumulating tattoos and collecting fellow exiles around him. Let them be cast out. The most important thing was that the public never truly wanted to be rid of those they had shunned, they wanted to remind themselves of the monstrosities they had rejected and laugh or gasp or fall silent with pity. Fine, but Atticus was going to damn well charge them for the privilege. Then he'd see who was laughing...