Epithet erased, p.1
Epithet Erased, page 1
Epithet Erased
Epithet Erased
Prison of Plastic
Brendan Blaber
Illustrated by Bo Hello, Edited by Amy Ellis
Scrubbadubs
Contents
Prologue - The Neo Trio
Prologue - The Banzai Blasters
Prologue - The Rabbit Knight
Prologue - The Instructor
1 Fish Out of Water
2 Vincent Murder
3 Distance
4 From the Heart
5 Love Spell
6 As the Crow Flies
7 Prison of Plastic
8 Bridging the Distance
9 A Real Mess of Things
10 No Sense of Time
11 Judgment
12 A Little Burnt, But Still Good
13 Wrecking Ball
Epithets!
In this world a lucky few are born with special powers based off of a single word. This word is linked to their very soul and no two people have the same one. By tapping into the word, epithet users—the inscribed—can do amazing things that ordinary people—mundies—could only dream of!
For instance, if a person had the epithet ☆Beach☆ then they might have the power to control the tides or summon sandcastles. Someone with the epithet ☆Sugar☆ may be able to cook better than the average person, and the epithet ☆Recherché☆ could force a person to open a dictionary and look up what recherché means.
Of course, because a person’s epithet can be any random word, inscribed powersets are often a little . . . well, dumb.
In one instance, literally.
* * *
The story so far . . .
One week ago, a young girl named Molly Blyndeff was left behind during a field trip and accidentally locked inside of a museum. By sheer coincidence, not just one, but two groups of dangerous thieves infiltrated the museum on that same night. Poor Molly found herself caught in their battle over a magical artifact that could take a person’s powers away . . . and she was their target.
She allied herself with the leader of one of the two groups, a dorky young man by the name of Giovanni, and they managed to survive the night by working together. Giovanni’s group made off with the amulet, they all evaded the police, and Molly gained a much-needed boost in confidence as well as a role model in her scrappy new mentor.
But Molly’s problems at home were far from over. . . .
Prologue - The Neo Trio
Sweet Jazz City!
A bustling metropolis where it snowed seven months of the year. Although it was still August, the trademark wintery feel of the town was already returning to the air. The breeze coming off of the nearby ice-blue ocean kept temperatures below seventy even on sunny days, and at night the city’s multicolored skyline sparkled a rainbow of blues, pinks, and purples. An iron aurora borealis.
Sweet Jazz stood as a center for business and the arts, home to first-rate corporations and a world-famous art museum, which had only suffered its first break-in! That’s not too bad! Sure, there were a few
dozen . . . thousand dollars in damage. But that price was nothing for the rich elite of the nation’s capital! Well-to-do socialites happily wandered the city’s glowing shopping centers and gorgeous diamond-white beaches without a care in the world. Even the emptiest stretch of coastline had a respectable number of beachgoers, all of them happy with smiles as bright as the sand.
Well.
All except for one.
One little girl under a lamp post, who was flipping back and forth like a pinwheel on the edge of a panic attack.
“ . . . Am I at the wrong intersection?”
Molly Blyndeff had been standing alone on a street corner across from the beach for about twenty minutes now, and she was getting worried. It was Tuesday, which meant that today was one of the rare times she had the afternoon off.
Molly had a strange schedule.
In order to make ends meet at her family’s toy store—The Blyndeff Toy Emporium—they needed to stay open every day of the week. They didn’t have the money to hire any outside help, and that meant that someone from the family had to work the register every single day.
Her father had somehow managed to negotiate a system with her school where Molly would attend school on odd days and manage the store on even ones. Her older sister, Lorelai, worked the opposite schedule, and the two would switch off shifts while their father—a toymaker and “inventor”—would spend all day tinkering away in the basement making more doodads to sell out front.
In addition to her work shifts Molly was also in charge of the family finances. Running the business side of the toy store had been her mother’s job, but after she passed away Molly inherited all of her paperwork along with her headaches. To most people it would’ve seemed insane to have a twelve-year-old managing their taxes.
Because it was!
But the alternative was leaving her father to handle things, and that was a no-go. Molly had learned the hard way that relying on her father for anything was a one-way ticket to disaster. Once she came home from school to find that he had purchased a massive inflatable kiddie pool and several expensive pool toys that now occupied 90% of their floorspace. He was all geared-out to swim with a snorkel and inflatable duck ring around his waist, but found himself unable to fill the pool because he had forgotten to pay the water bill.
Her older sister was no better. Constantly shirking her shifts and always distracted . . . there was no way someone like her could make it through all the bylines of a tax sheet.
And so, yet another responsibility had fallen to the youngest daughter.
On top of all that, Molly was also in charge of cooking and cleaning most of the time, which meant that Molly Blyndeff had almost no free time at all. Every second of free time she had was precious . . . and she was starting to freak out.
“Oh . . . um . . . We were supposed to meet here, right?” Her star-sprinkled afro bounced back and forth as she glanced up and down the street. “I’m pretty sure I wrote the address down right . . . But what if I got it wrong?! Oh no. Oh no!” Molly shook with anxiety. She cowered under a street lamp in her trademark bear hoodie and yellow rain booties.
The intersection she stood at was right on the waterfront next to a sparkling white beach. It was a beautiful afternoon and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. For a normal person it would’ve been a picture-perfect day in the city, but for a small child alone in an unfamiliar part of town it felt like an open labyrinth. Danger could pop out anywhere at any time. Was she allowed to stand here? No one else was on this part of the street. Was she doing something wrong? What if someone tried to talk to her? Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
She stared at her phone for help. She could try texting one of her friends to confirm the location . . . but she was nearly out of minutes this month and she really couldn’t afford any overages. She needed to save any more calls for emergencies.
. . . Was this an emergency?
No, she decided. This wasn’t an emergency. Not yet. She could still ask someone for directions. That’s what they did in the Before-Cell-Phones-Times! Molly wasn’t old enough to remember the Before-Cell-Phones-Times, but her school showed her a series of weird old VHS tapes from thirty-plus years ago about public safety in the city called “Ztreet Smartz”. They gave pretty standard city life advice: “Don’t climb into the trunk of a car.” “Don’t eat garbage.” “Don't talk to ztrangers.” It also said that back in the day if you were lost you could ask for directions! And there was only a small chance that the person you were talking to was a murderer!
She looked up and saw a man in a white pinstripe suit walking down the sidewalk in her direction.
Oh, here comes someone! Okay. Let’s ask him! I can do this! Remember what Boss said! Be more assertive! . . . Oh. But this guy looks important. He’s wearing a fancy suit and a hat. Is it okay to talk to him? What if he’s a busy business guy? I wouldn’t want to bother him!
The man stepped closer.
His face is kind of scary! W-what if he’s a gangster or something?! Aaaah he’s almost next to me! It’s too weird to call out to him now. I’ll just wait for the next person. . . . But no one else is on this road! I have to talk to him! If I don’t ask him, I won’t be able to ask anyone! Aaah! Eh! Uh!
Say!
Words!!!
Molly opened her mouth.
“ ! ”
The man kept right on walking.
Molly shut her mouth.
Welp.
She tried.
Molly was doing her best to be more assertive. She really was! But it was so hard. Especially with strangers. She didn’t want to bother anybody. . . .
. . . Though, come to think of it, he wouldn’t have been able to help her out even if she had managed to speak to him. She wasn’t looking for a place. She was looking for a person. And unless he’d seen them he would’ve had no idea where they were. Sigh. . . . Oh well. Molly hoped that she wasn’t inconveniencing anyone by showing up at the wrong spot. She hoped she was just early. Most of all, she hoped there wasn’t some terrible reason that they were late.
“Stop!”
Huh?
“Please, stop iiiiit!”
Molly heard a voice.
It was a far away voice, echoing distantly off the walls of the nearby alley. Most people probably wouldn’t have heard it at all over the sound of the waves, but Molly had particularly sensitive hearing. What’s more, it was a sound that she recognized. A voice she recognized. From a person she recognize
“Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no . . . !”
With a growing fear in her heart, she steadied her hands against the straps of her backpack and sprinted into the indigo shadow of the alleyway.
* * *
Phoenica Fleecity was so excited to meet her friends at the beach that she had decided to take a shortcut. She had never walked to the beachfront before, but she figured that the fastest way to get there was to take the direct route through the alleys. Just keep walking west and she should arrive in no time! Easy peasy!
Her bouncy blonde hair and high-end dress stood out like a sore thumb against the deep purples of the dirty alley. What’s more, she had little ornamental bells in her hair that softly jingled as she skipped. She looked like a little lost lamb, politely inviting any nearby predators to eat her.
It wasn’t long before she ran into a wolf.
“Hey . . . kid.”
“Hello!” Phoenica answered with the eager sincerity of someone who had just been called on by their favorite teacher.
“That’s a nice-lookin’ bag you got there.” Phoenica looked at her designer backpack. It was nice! It was baby blue and had a sheep embroidered on it. It was her favorite!
“Oh thank you!” she beamed. “I like your . . .” Phoenica had been taught to always return a compliment with a compliment. She looked up and down at the person addressing her for anything compliment-worthy. The woman was languid with pallid skin and a long, ratty auburn ponytail. She leaned against the wall in an awkward way, like a dead tree that couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to fall down. “I like your energy,” she decided.
“Looks expensive.”
“It was!” she smiled. “. . . Well! Goodbye!”
The woman slid in front of her, blocking her exit.
“Wonderin’ where I might find a bag as nice as that one.”
“I got mine at Baxter’s Department Store!” Phoenica offered. “You could try going there!” The bells in her hair jingled, but the warning bells in her head did not.
“Oooh, Baxter’s, huh? Place is pretty ritzy. Don’t think I’d ever be able to afford it.”
“Oh, that is a problem . . . I know! You could try getting a job!” Phoenica offered this advice with the absolute sincerity of a child. So much so that it somehow wrapped back around to sounding insulting.
“Actually,” the wolf said, cracking a crooked smile, “I was thinkin’ it’d be easier to just take this one.”
“But this one is mine,” Phoenica reminded her.
“Not for long.” The silver flick of a switchblade appeared in the wolf’s hand. She closed the distance and loomed over Phoenica as though she was three times her height.
Phoenica gasped!
“I get it now!” she said, “You’re . . . a bully!”
The word most people would’ve chosen was “mugger.”
“I know how to deal with bullies!” Phoenica declared. She cleared her throat and recalled the word-for-word message that the VHS tapes had taught her: “You are only mean because of society and your own personal trauma. Let us stop this horrid cycle of violence! I will take the first step. Here: I forgive you.” Phoenica hugged her.
After a moment of confusion, the mugger grabbed the idiot child by the backpack and hoisted Phoenica bodily into the air. She flailed uselessly like a ladybug on its back.
“Nooo! VHS tapes! You lied to me!!!”
* * *
Molly peaked around the corner of the midnight blue brick wall and gasped. Her best friend was being whipped back and forth through the air by some scraggly-looking mugger! The assailant shook her up and down, desperately trying to knock her loose, but Phoenica clung to the backpack straps as though her life depended on it.
“C’mon kid, let go of the damn thing!” barked the wolf, flailing her around like a dog with a chew toy.
“Nooo! I won’t!”
“Tch! if I tear the straps or rip the fabric I can’t sell it. . . .” She brandished the knife again and held it close to the girl’s neck. “Is this bag really worth your life?!”
“I-I don’t care about the bag! But I can’t let you have what’s inside of it!” The little girl was trembling, but her big blue eyes were filled with resolve.
“Oh? Somethin’ valuable?”
“Yes! It’s my friend’s, and you can’t have it!” Phoenica wriggled.
“What is it? Money? You got cash in there?”
“Wait. Is money all you’re after?” She said this as though it hadn’t occurred to her that a mugger might be interested in money. “Here! You can have my purse! Please, take all the money I have, but leave the bag, I beg you! . . . It’s been awhile since my last allowance so I’m a little short, but I’ve still got about $5,000 in there.”
“Five thousand? Shaddup! How stupid do you think I am!? Plus, you don’t even have a purse on you!”
“Yes I do! It’s a mini-purse! In my dress pocket!”
“Your dress has pockets!?”
“Do yours not?”
“Jeez, you really are rich! Alright! Let’s see what’s in this thing. . . . Come to mama!” The mugger swung Phoenica back like she was preparing to roll the girl down a bowling lane and then whipped her into the air! The force of the throw was enough to separate Phoenica from her backpack and send them both flying upside-down.
“No!!!”
“Feenie!” Molly let out a silent cry.
Her friend had been chucked about ten feet in the air and was about to come down hard on the concrete. Molly’s legs moved before her head. She dashed out into the alley and subconsciously began using her epithet—☆Dumb☆—to dumb down the impact of the fall and reduce the damage that Phoenica would take. Even so, it was still going to hurt if she hit the floor. There were no other cushions in sight . . . No other choice! A soft green glow surrounded Molly as she dove directly beneath her friend’s growing shadow and prepared for impact.
“Oof!!!”
Phoenica slammed into her and they toppled to the ground in a heap. Luckily for Molly, 90% of Phoenica’s body mass was fluff and cotton so it felt less like getting crushed and more like being hit just a little too hard in a pillow fight.
“. . . Ow.”
“Molly!?”
Meanwhile above them, Feenie’s backpack had overturned in midair and the top had come undone. Papers erupted from the backpack and scattered against the damp floor of the alleyway. They weren’t the bright, multicolored bills that the mugger had been hoping for, though. These pages were white.
“No!!!” Phoenica looked absolutely devastated. She was instantly crying big, stupid tears. “You bully!!! Look what you’ve done! Now the worksheets are all wet!”
“Wha . . . what is this?” the Wolf blinked.
“Science! History! Algebra! All ruined! Do you know how LONG it takes to dry out a worksheet? It never lies perfectly flat again! It’s AWFUL! It’s like the paper equivalent of that eraser thing!
She blinked again. “. . . Huh?”
“You know! The eraser thing! Where you try to erase a pencil mark, but it just kind of smudges and smears gray streaks everywhere? And then you think ‘Oh, I guess I need to put a little more elbow grease into it!’ So you do, but the smudge just gets worse. And then you try erasing harder and harder and the eraser tears clean through the page! And now the page has been ripped and you’re not sure if it’s your fault or if it’s just a bad eraser. And you can’t even be sure it’s a bad eraser unless you test it a second time, and that means ripping the page again!”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about???”
“It’s the worst!!!” she bleated. Phoenica hugged Molly. “Oh Molly, dear, I’m so sorry! You trusted me to deliver your homework for you and here it is scattered about a dirty alley floor! I’m . . . I’m a FAILURE!”
“Feenie . . . You were willing to risk your life for my homework? . . . Again?”
“YOU TRUSTED ME!” she wept.
“It’s okay, it’s okay . . . ” Molly patted Feenie on the back. It was like hugging a marshmallow. “I’m just happy you’re alright.”
