Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A sharp ringing echoed out through her mind. The kind of noise that came along after a bad hit to the head, or when a fire alarm keeps going even when it’s turned off. The kind of ringing that could be very distressing for a girl with both mysophobia and chronic anxiety. Which was exactly the case for Miss Molly Blyndeff.

“Ah!” Molly yelped. She shot up straight. Her heartbeat skyrocketed as she glanced around, frantically trying to recognise her surroundings. “Hello?”

Dim lights. Silent figures. Towering exhibits. Oh, no. She was still in the museum. How long had she been here? She couldn’t see her sister or her father anywhere. Knowing them they might have just run off, but there was nobody around. Not even a security guard. Molly whimpered to herself. Was everybody okay? Had she fallen asleep for so long everybody had forgotten she existed? What if she was stuck over the weekend? Who would take care of the house, and the cleaning, and the store, and Lori?! Oh, no. Oh no, oh no, oh no!

Molly Blyndeff – full name stricken from the record because EW – was seventeen years old. She was small, stocky, and prone to internal fits of conflict. She tried her best to keep herself together, mostly for her family’s sake, but a locked room situation like this was setting off all the warning bells in her brain. Stumbling to her feet, she tried her best to calm down. Deep breaths. Like her friend said. Four seconds in, four seconds still, four seconds out. Her hand fisted in the bear hoodie tied around her waist. In, still, and out. Okay. She was okay. She looked around one more time.

She didn’t know how, but somehow, she had fallen asleep out in the Ocean Country exhibits. Actually, she did know how. She knew how perfectly well. The Ocean Country exhibits were small, all tightly packed into one area in the back like sardines in a can a decade out of date. Seaglass and relics long past ebbed in stationary water valves. Glowy-glow stars dotted the ceiling like those cat lights on highways. It was very peaceful. Prime material for an exhausted girl to completely pass out in the middle of the day.

“Oh, jeez…okay. Okay, this is fine. I just…hm.” She trotted out of the exhibit and poked her star-sprinkled hair around the corner. “Hello? Um…Mr Gansley? Miss Mera? Dad?” Oh boy. She MUST be worried if she was calling for her Dad, of all people.

Still, out of all the names she called, she didn’t get a response. Just a dark, drab, unfeeling vault of artefacts and treasure. At least, to begin with.

Not thirty seconds after she’d called out, a rapid series of tiny footsteps bounced off the floors and around the museum. Molly had particularly sensitive hearing, so this hit her no problem. She perked up a little.

“Hello?” she called. Her boots clopped against the linoleum floor as she paced out of Ocean, through Deepwood, and into Taiga. “Is somebody there? Um, I don’t want to worry anybody, but I think I’m stuck here? My – My sister has my phone. Is there any chance of me borrowing yours?” She spoke openly to the cold atmosphere. The footsteps rattled out behind into the Deepwood exhibits. She turned and quietly snuck around the doorway, her steps tender and gentle so there was no chance of her being heard even without her Epithet.

There, with sleeping bags rolled up haphazardly and a series of stuffed animals, were seven kids. From the looks of it, six boys and one little girl. They were much younger than Molly. If she were to guess, the oldest looked about fourteen while the smallest was twelve, maybe eleven. The oldest had scruffy pink hair, clipped out of his eyes with an X-shaped hairpin. The other six were all sat around him criss-cross-applesauce, as if he were a fun schoolteacher giving them an activity. She leaned a little closer around the corner.

“AL-RIGHT!” the oldest barked. “Phase one went off without a hitch! Good job sneaking everything in here, Dark Star.”

“More like Dark Stars!” the girl snickered.

One of the boys, Dark Star, grinned. He clapped his hands and an identical double of himself appeared beside him, squishing another boy’s personal space. It disappeared when he clapped again.
The oldest cackled like a cartoon supervillain. Almost. It was too squeaky and crackly to be anywhere near intimidating. Molly had to resist the urge to snicker. “And here! We! ARRRE! Our first, genuine, bona-fide heist! Wait until the Banzai Blasters get a load of this! There’s no way they’ll turn us down after we actually steal some stuff!”

Banzai Blasters? Ugh. Molly knew them plenty. A couple of street punks in golden uniforms and visors had tried to loot her family’s store a few times. Fortunately, she knew all about dealing with rude customers, so she was able to appease them with a few Trading card decks and some neat little trinkets her sister designed. These kids were wannabe Banzais? Did they have a captain? None of them were wearing those weirdo uniforms. In fact, they were all bundled up in winter coats and scarves. Spare for the oldest, who looked more like he was gearing up to play a round of kickball in the rain. His oversized raincoat was tied around his shoulders like a cape, and his waterproof sneakers squeaked as he paced around the exhibit.

“Let’s divvie up the rooms. Hmmmm…Dark Star, Crusher, you can take Taiga. Spike and Car Crash, to Desert. Aaaaand, let’s see…” He scanned the room with alligator eyes. He snapped his fingers. “Flamethrower can go to Island Country. As for me, I’ll sneak in the back! That’s where they keep the best stuff!”

“Yes, Boss!” the Baby Banzais chorused.

One boy stuck up his hand. “What about me?”

“You can stay here,” the leader commanded without glancing at him.

“Aww, that’s not fair!”

“Oh yeah?! Well what’s NOT FAIR is all of us getting grounded last time because you tattled, BEN!”

Ben crossed his arms and pouted. The boy next to him, Car Crash, patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“Alright, boys! Split up! We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” He turned on his heel, then stopped in his tracks.

He had finally noticed the seventeen-year-old girl in the doorway.

Molly squeaked. “Eep.”

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Epithets. Mysterious powers. Bestowed upon one in every five people by virtue of a word carved into their very soul. Nobody knows how Epithets ever came into being. Sure, people had their theories. Mutation, alien invasion, magic. But one thing was for sure – if a person had an Epithet, it meant big things. It meant they were Inscribed. Special! Unique! Everybody else without an Epithet was boring. Undesirable. Mundies, even if they made up the vast majority of the world’s population. But that was not to say that one couldn’t discover their Epithet! There was always a chance, some just didn’t know it.

“And who knows! Maybe one of those some will be you! Please follow me to the next exhibit,” the tour guide, one Mr Dan Gansley, prattled. He had been talking for about an hour now, which was longer than they were supposed to be in the Taiga section of the museum. “Now isn’t that interesting? Does anybody have questions?”

A freckled hand stuck out of a crowd of children.

“Yes, you there.”

“That sucked.”

“Aha! A common remark for Dan Gansley.”

“Lori, be nice, please,” Molly whispered.

“No. He sucks. This tour sucks,” Lorelai pouted. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot like a thumping rabbit.

Lorelai Blyndeff was Molly’s younger sister by five whole years. She was currently in what the school called ‘terrible twelves’, the horrid sequel to ‘terrible twos’ with the disadvantage that twelve-year-olds could talk back. And Lori could talk. Boy, could she talk.

“And don’t tell me what to do, stupid.” Lori stuck out her tongue. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“Come now, children,” Mr Gansley interrupted. “More questions for the tour.”

A girl with a pink pompadour stuck up her hand. “Can we leave now?”

“An excellent question! Who else has questions?”

“Why do you suck so bad?!” Lorelai hollered. Her classmates snickered. Her chaperone did not.

When Molly had agreed to chaperone Lorelai’s class trip to the museum, she had known it would have been hard. Lorelai had almost no friends, only the ones she could make in the store were anywhere close, so it was no surprise that she was acting out and yelling. What made it worse, however, was that the other kids were egging her on. Which nobody should have ever done to Lori. The boys kept laughing and the girls kept telling her to say more stuff, to tell off the tour guide even more. It was exhausting. What made it even worse, if that was possible, was that their dad, Martin Blyndeff, had vanished at the start of the tour. Along with all the distractions Molly had planned. Lori needed constant entertainment if Molly had any hope of keeping her happy and calm, and Martin still had the duffel bag of stuffed animals, trinkets and toys. This was a nightmare.

“That is also a question! Very good! Now, it’s my turn to ask a question. Does anybody here have an Epithet?” He scanned the crowd of kids.

Lorelai perked up. The nuclear triangle of dots in her eyes sparked to life. She grinned a devilishly little snarl. She stuck up her hand in a flash and dragged Molly’s up with it. “Oh! Oh! We do! We BOTH have Epithets!”

Molly whimpered. “Lori…”

“And my sister’s Epithet is SUUUPER strong! Right, Molly-Woll?” she grinned. Molly didn’t blame her for this. Martin flaunted his daughters’ Epithets any chance he got, so this was just something Lori had picked up over the years. Besides, Molly was probably also at fault. Somehow.

“Come now, no need to hide behind one of the children!” Mr Gansely marched between the kids and up to the Blyndeff sisters. “Now, what can each of you do?”

“I can make stuff!” Lori announced proudly. She nudged Molly.

“Oh. Oh, um…nothing. It’s Dumb,” Molly mumbled.

“I’m sure that’s not true! Why, you’re fortunate to have an Epithet at all! Some of us are left completely helpless in this cold, unfeeling world!” Mr Gansley smiled. This did nothing to quell Molly’s anxiety. All the kids were staring at her. And so was the museum intern.

“That’s certainly true for you, Dan,” the intern snarled.

“Ah! In any case, is it any wonder that someone had the idea to steal Epithets? To be so powerful that you could remove someone’s very Inscription! What a novelty. And such is the property of – oof!”

Mr Gansley was silenced with a quick smack from one of the intern’s crutches. It slammed into his stomach. It stamped on the floor in place of the intern’s foot, her fragile face cracking with anger.

“Shut up, Dan! That exhibit isn’t for show yet. And if you keep talking, then you won’t be either,” she hissed.

“Ahahaha! Indubitably. In fact, our boss is always contemplating kicking me to the curb.” Silence. “Moving along with the tour.”

The intern – nametag reading ‘Hello! My name is: MERA’ – rolled her eyes. She eyed the Blyndeff sisters curiously. She leant on her crutches and brushed her bangs out of her face. “What?” She grimaced at them like they were bugs crawling across her shoes.

Molly giggled nervously. “Nothing. Just…um, thank you. For that.”

Mera didn’t respond. She hauled herself away. Leaving Molly and Lorelai standing a little away from the tour group, Lorelai’s tiny hand still firm around her sister’s wrist. Molly let out a long sigh and knelt down so she was under eye level with Lori. Lori, in turn, looked at her like she was dumb.

“Lori,” she started, gentle and quiet. “I know you don’t want to be here.”

“I want my rabbit,” Lori huffed, stamping her foot.

“I know. I hear you. But Dad still has our bag. We can find him soon and then you can have your bunny, but until then, it would really help if you could…not yell at people? Or in general?”

“Why?!” Lori yelled. Molly winced.

“Because it’s loud. And it’ll make all the other kids yell too, which would be even louder. Do you understand?”

“No,” Lori scowled. “I want my stuff. And I’m not Lori. I’m the Lunar Princess, leader of the Cottontail Cavalry.”

“Okay.” Another of Lori’s names. Lorelai loved making her worlds, and Molly usually loved hearing about them. Her sister could prattle on for hours explaining all the little details of her newest and most favourite world. “Well, Lunar Princess, we can play dragons and knights later, okay? Then you can be loud and make everything you want. Once we get home.”

“No!” Lorelai stamped her foot again. A sparkling energy churning around her fingers and spilled onto the floor. It turned to marshmallow in an instant. Crackling and burned, charred over the top and gooey on the underbelly. It wriggled into a body, then sprouted four paws, a thick tail, and a face with burning flames for eyes. “I want my rabbit! I wanna be the Princess! I wanna do what I want!!”

The marshmallow dragon roared. Molly covered her ears. It was tiny, but it was louder than Molly anticipated. She flinched, eyes squeezing shut for a second, and when she opened them again both the dragon and her sister were gone. Off in the direction of the tour group if the trail of marshmallow footprints was to be believed. Oh, no!

She took off running. It only took a few seconds for Lori to get out of control, and even less so for her creations to make up their minds about destroying whatever Lorelai decided got in the way of her play. Molly skidded into the next room. The dragon was chasing the other kids around. Its graham cracker teeth snapped at pant legs and skirt tails, its paws thudding as it bounded around like an excited puppy. Lorelai kept pointing it in new directions. In the gaps, she cupped her hands around each other and made glowing little butterflies that flew up toward the domed ceiling. Kids that weren’t being chased squealed with delight. They leapt up, trying to catch Lorelai’s butterflies. Mr Gansley and Mera were having no luck calming the group down.

“Dan, you idiot, do something!” Mera shrieked.

Mr Gansley stammered. “Now – Now, children! Why chase after mystical beasts when you could be entertained by my many oddities?” From out of his pockets came a metal of string metal that was once a Slinky, a handful of unpackaged salt, and five whole crickets. The kids payed him no notice, Lorelai least of all. “Understandable.”

Mera screamed, and Molly was tempted to do the same. This was all too much. Too loud. Too..loud!

“Stop!” Molly echoed.

Wobbly green energy pulsed out around her in a wide radius. A pulse struck the dragon flat in the side. It wriggled, then writhed, then popped into sparkles on the floor. The butterflies trembled and fell to the floor with poofs of glitter. Anything else Lorelai might have created vanished in an instant. An aura of pure, unfiltered silence surrounded Molly.

This was Molly Blyndeff’s Epithet – Dumb. The perfect cure for sensory overload. As a little kid, she had used it to get through loud crowds and escape comfortable situations. It was quiet, peaceful, and dumb. It made her feel safe. But she never used it out in public much now. Only in dangerous situations or when Lorelai was overstimulated and angry. She rarely used it for herself now. No, Molly hadn’t been focused on herself for two years. Not since she wore her hair loose, and not since her sister started playing in bubbles.

She sighed. She glanced toward her sister. Lori’s face was scrunched in a snarl. Molly was sure she would have yelled at her if not for the sudden appearance of their father.

“Hey, Honey Bun!” he bellowed, light and cheerful. Martin didn’t have a care in the world. All of that went to Molly. “Sorry I wandered off. I just had to grab you this from the gift shop before we started!”

“The tour started an hour ago, Dad,” Molly mumbled through her aura. She was still silent, of course. But even if she wasn’t, it wasn’t like Martin would have heard her.

He strode past his oldest daughter without a glance and crouched in front of Lorelai. He dropped Molly’s duffel bag, the one filled with Lori’s distractions, on the floor just outside her silence bubble. In his hands was a little trinket dragon. It looked a little like Lori’s dragon, the one she called Graham because of course she did, she was creative like that. Lori squealed. She grabbed the dragon and cradled it gently in her rainbow-freckled hands.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she giggled. She threw her arms around Martin’s neck in a bear hug. Martin patted her back with a laugh, then wrestled her up so she sat on his shoulders.

“Alright! Let’s go! Put some pep in our steps, with your Epithet!” he sang.

Mera and Mr Gansley exchanged a look. Mr Gansley shrugged and marched out of the room, trailing the tour group behind him with Martin and Lori at the helm. Mera rolled her eyes once more and hobbled off in a different direction. The quiet click of her crutches echoed in Molly’s brain as her Epithet fell away.

A wave of exhaustion flooded Molly. Honestly, she should have expected it. Any rational person would have. Molly was in charge of so many things that could wear a person down faster than an artist’s eraser. Cooking, cleaning, running the store, checking stock, finances, taking Lori to school, picking Lori up from school, facing angry teachers, making sure none of Lori’s creations got out of the house or her bubbles. Handling everything like that in equal balance was something she’d once shared with her mother, but when she passed away, everything suddenly heaped onto Molly’s shoulders. Her frail, tired little shoulders. Her boots clip-clopped on the tiles as she stumbled through the Ocean Country exhibit. She could barely stand. A moment of peace and suddenly she was floating through an empty void. She felt sick. The sleep debt of a full week and one day suddenly surged up and swallowed her whole. Her knees buckled under a rainbow aura of glowy-glow stars and seaglass. Her eyes blinked closed. Her breathing slowed.

Just a little nap. One nap wouldn’t hurt her.

An hour to herself.

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“Hey!” the boy yapped like a small, angry dog. “Where you spying on us?!”

“No, no, no, no. I wasn’t! Promise! Cross my heart.” Molly made an X over her heart and held up her hands in mock defence.

The boy studied her intently. His nose scrunched up. “Likely story. You can’t listen to grown-ups! And you’re about as grown-up as it gets!”

Molly thought otherwise. Between her bear hoodie, her bandana and the little pom-poms hanging from her belt, she looked more like a child’s doll than an adult. Not to mention she was pretty short for her age. She cocked her head. “Really?”

“Don’t play dumb! Take this!”

The boy reared his arm back. A broiling ball of viscous red liquid popped to life and, like a pitcher on a baseball pitch, he hucked it across the room to Molly. Molly yelped. She threw up her hand and caught in a glove of green aura. The ball shrank a little bit in her grip, but it didn’t disband totally. An aroma floated off of it.

“Huh?” She raised the ball to her nose. It smelt…good. Like, really good. She winced, then gave it a cursory lick. “This is good. Tomato basil?”

“Yup!” the boy announced, puffing out his chest like a parakeet. “I season it myself – hey, wait! What! How did you do that to my super strong Epithet?!”

Molly squished the ball and it disappeared, only a few drops remaining in her palm. “Oh. It’s nothing. Dumb power,” she mumbled.

The boy’s eyes sparkled. He gasped dramatically. “You have an Epithet too!”

Crap!

“Oh, no! I don’t! Forget it!”

“No way! Dark Star is the only other part of our team with an Epithet! What’s your word? C’mon, tell me, tell me, tell me! Mine is, uh.” He glanced around as if his Inscription was a fly buzzing around his face. The fly got squished. “Lava! No, Acid! Lavacid!”

Molly couldn’t help her laugh this time. “Really? That’s so cool,” she smiled. She tried to talk to every kid she knew like this. Gentle and quiet, like with Lori. “And you can make whole attacks out of it? You must be really strong.”

The boy bristled under the praise. He was really strong! His moms said so all the time! Plus, he could beat up half of his cousins. That was no small feat for him. He stuck out his hand. “My name is Giovanni Potage.”

Oh, like soup. Figures. Molly took his hand and shook it firmly. “I’m Molly.”

“Gross,” Giovanni’s face scrunched again. “you sound like a sweater.”

“Haha, yeah. I get that a lot.” Molly patted the fluff of her bear hoodie.

“Oh.” Silence. “That’s dumb. Well, okay! See you later!”

Giovanni tried to march off in the opposite direction from Molly. He opened his mouth, about to give his friends more instruction on their heist, when Molly grabbed his shoulder gently and steered him to the right. He hadn’t even heard her move! Jeez, what a grown-up.

“Hang on,” Molly interrupted. She approached the Baby Banzais, who all scrambled to their feet. “none of you should be here. It’s way past curfews, especially this time of year. Did you all sneak in during the field trips?”

The Baby Banzais looked to each other. Then they all looked to Giovanni. He stared at Molly, stunned. What a tattletale! He growled and pointed at her.

“Dark Star, Crusher, Spike, get her!”

“What?!” Molly squeaked.

Dark Star clapped and a copy of him appeared. The copy darted behind Molly and grabbed her hood at the same time that Dark Star shoved her front, pushing her backward and making her fall into a radiator. Another boy with hair over his eyes, probably Crusher, hustled forward. While he replaced Dark Star’s duplicate as it vanished, Spike squirmed over faster than Molly could register. She untangled the knot keeping Molly’s hoodie on her waist. She tossed it over Molly’s head and into Crusher’s arms, where he retied it around Molly’s wrists and the radiator. Effectively tied up, Molly gawked at the group of preteens.

“Wha?” she parroted.

“There! Okay, so, you’re strong and a grown-up, so we can’t leave you unsupervised.” Giovanni looked to the Baby Banzais. He pointed to three of them in a cluster. “Car Crash, Flamethrower, Ben. You three watch her!”

“I wanna see the treasure,” Ben whined.

“We’ll bring some back for you! You were gonna stay here anyways, what does it matter!” Giovanni retorted. He ruffled Ben’s hair, then marched toward the back rooms. “There’s probably more grown-ups around. Crusher, Dark Star, Spike, follow me! To EVIL!”

The quartet of kids trailed off along the empty hallways, echoes of “Evil! Evil! Evil!” bouncing around the Deepwood exhibits. Car Crash and Flamethrower flopped into sitting positions near their sleeping bags. Ben laid out starfish-style on the floor, grumbling about having to babysit a teenager.

This was bad. Molly wriggled against the knot of her wrists. That Crusher kid could do really good knots, she’d give him that. It was always good to have extra skills under your belt, especially in a big friend group. Not that Molly knew what that was like. But that was beside the point! She couldn’t move! And she was no good with untying knots! She couldn’t even do laces! All her and Lori wore were Velcro strap sneakers and winter boots because they were cheaper. Ugh. She shuffled her knees up so she could rest her forehead on them.

Flamethrower stared at her like she was a cat video on his phone. “What’s wrong with you? We’re the ones babysitting.”

“I need to go home,” Molly mumbled. “Our store’s going to go out of business if I don’t run it tonight. And tomorrow.”

“Ew, work.” Car Crash stuck out his tongue.

“You work night and day? I thought that was just something grown-ups said to make us feel bad,” Ben added.

Molly laughed mirthlessly. “I wish. And I’m not a grown-up. I’m seventeen.”

“Oh,” all three boys chorused.

“That’s, like, a year away from full blown grown-up,” Flamethrower pondered. “Why are you working?”

“It doesn’t matter. We just need the money.”

“Pfft, and you need the sleep. You’ve got eyebags like my dad, and he’s a hundred!” Ben threw her arms and legs out in the air. “When we found you, you were out cold.”

“Ben thought you were dead,” Car Crash corrected.

“Did not!” Ben yelled, cheeks red.

The boys began to bicker back and forth, excluding Molly from the argument entirely. Good. She hated pointless arguing anyway. She glanced to her right, the way Giovanni and the other kids are marched off in. Maybe if they finished their heist fast, they’d untie her and smash a window to let her out or something. She sighed. She glanced to her left.

And saw a person. A tall, tan-skinned, white-haired boy a little younger than her. Her button eyes widened. Her head shot up. She glanced nervously to the Baby Banzais, then back to the boy. He was covered in painted patterns, though she couldn’t tell if they were actual tattoos or just press-ons. His smile was wide and dumb, with nothing behind his eyes but elevator music. He looked strong too. Toned for his age to balance out the thoughtlessness. Molly gulped. Uh oh. He was probably another intruder. If he was as strong as he looked, there was no way the Banzais would be able to take him down the same way they managed to jump Molly. The boy peeked around the corner to catch Molly’s eye again. He grinned wide when Molly made eye contact with him.

“Hello!” he cheered.

Molly eeped. The boys all turned to finally notice the other boy in the doorway.

“Dangit,” Flamethrower grumbled. “Another grown-up.”

“Greetings, children and older girl! My name is Indus Tarbella, and my Epithet is Barrier! Have you seen Lady Mera? She is this tall,” he held a hand to his mid-waist for comparison. “and has crutches. She told me to find her when the museum was closed. And it is!”

“…” The boys exchanged confounded looks. Then they looked to Molly.

Molly took a deep breath. She nodded to the boys and turned to face Indus again. “She works here?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, then she’s probably out back. With all the treasures, and stuff.” She paused. “Do…you work here too?”

“Oh, no! Lady Mera said I could never work here! I am too big, and my brute strength would break everything! And you know what would fix that? BARRIERS!” Indus hollered. Molly winced against the noise. Two small orange discs, imprinted with a flower-shaped sunset, manifested in Indus’s hands. “Like these!”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Molly struggled. Ow, her ears… “Well, then, why are you here?”

“To protect Lady Mera!”

Molly waited. Oh, that was it. Okay. She could work with this. She closed her eyes. “Oh, that’s a shame.”

“Why so?” Indus cocked his head like a big, stupid puppy.

“Because a bunch of bad guys just snuck into the museum.”

“Bad guys?!” Indus cried.

“Yep. And they said they were going to the back rooms to ambush anybody left and steal all their stuff. If Miss Mera is here, then maybe she’ll end up beat up too. That would be awful,” Molly hummed.

“No!” Indus cried again. Jeez, he was loud. “I cannot allow her to be hurt! You will stay here and keep watch for other bad guys, Bear Girl! I will protect Lady Mera and bring the intruders back here!”

“Will do,” Molly acquiesced. She winked at the Baby Banzais. Flamethrower and Car Crash winked back. Ben stared at each of them like he had missed something important.

With that Indus raced off as quickly as he had appeared. His strong, heavy footsteps thundered down the hallways in the same direction as the other Banzais. Hopefully he would get lost or otherwise distracted so the kids wouldn’t get roughed up. Molly would never forgive herself if a little kid got hurt under her watch. Speaking of which.

She wiggled her hands in her hoodie handcuffs. “I did you a solid. Can you please untie me now?”

“Duh! Obviously!” Flamethrower cheered. He raced over and unknotted the hoodie’s sleeves, letting Molly get back to her feet before handing it back to her. “How did you know how to make him go away?”

“I didn’t. I kinda took a shot in the dark there.” She might’ve gotten them all hurt. But that didn’t happen, so it was fine! For now. Until Indus came back and possibly bought back-up, or the police, or reported her and the Baby Banzais to Mera and got them all put in museum jail.

“Whatever!” Car Crash piped up. “That was super slick! You talked him out like magic.”

It was simple customer service. She let the kids believe what they wanted.

“Okay. Um…do you three know if anybody else is in the museum?”

“Besides us and Mr Barrier, nope,” Car Crash replied, popping the P.

“Don’t forget that Mera lady,” Ben corrected. A trio of shivers ran through the kids.

Okay. Molly offered her hand to the boys. “Come on. I’ll watch you until we can call someone to get us. I can make sure you don’t get in too much trouble for all of this.”

“We won’t get in trouble! We’re professionals,” Flamethrower asserted.

Regardless, he took Molly’s hand in his. Car Crash took Flamethrower’s other hand, and Ben grabbed Car Crash’s hand. In a daisy chain, Molly led them down the hallway after Indus. Hopefully Mera wouldn’t be too mad about her sticking around. And hopefully little Giovanni wouldn’t be upset that she was babysitting his friends instead of the other way around.

The backrooms were much bigger than Molly had anticipated. There were rows upon rows of assorted treasures and artefacts, all filed safely by colour or chronology or some other system that Molly had forgotten. Since Sweet Jazz Museum was based in the Taiga, it was obvious to assume most of the artefacts were from there, although some of the merchandise looked ruined. Marker had been scribbled over a painting, and a stray can of grease or oil had been kicked over onto some old documents. Oh dear. Molly hoped the financial advisor for the museum was a nice person, otherwise they would have a fit over the cost of everything that was being wrecked in here. Eventually she and the boys twisted their way through a dozen rows of back-catalogue to a clearing. She almost walked inside when she heard two familiar voices.

“What, like, all of them?” Mera! She was still here. If she was here, then she was likely there to lock up like a good intern was often tasked with on Fridays like these. That meant Indus had come in looking for his friend. That was nice. And something Molly’s friends often did for her.

“No! Doy! Just the cool ones.” And there was Giovanni. “As you can see, I have three whole Banzai Blasters at my beck and call. I wouldn’t mess with me if I were you!”

“How old are you?” Mera deadpanned.

“Uh, fourteen! The coolest of ages,” Giovanni proudly boasted.

Mera snorted. Her crutches clicked as she hustled herself into the middle of the clearing, facing away from Giovanni and the other Banzais. “Run along, kid. You’re not Banzai Blasters, and even if you were, you’re not very good ones.”

Giovanni gawked. How dare she! How dare this mean older lady talk to him, the great Giovanni Potage, like that! In front of his friends, no less! This would not stand.

“Boys!” Spike, Crusher and Dark Star perked up. “Get behind me.” They did so.

Giovanni reached behind him into his raincoat. From the makeshift cape, he withdrew a baseball bat. Sports tape wrapped around the handle and something taped to the other end. Molly squinted. The tip glinted in the dim fluorescent lights. Holy crap, that kid had a knife!

She didn’t feel herself move. The next thing she knew, she had wrenched the bat away from Giovanni and was holding him away from it with her foot. She had practice with this. Lori often wanted stuff she couldn’t have, which meant Molly had to hold it away and keep her at arms-length simultaneously. The last time she didn’t do that, Lori had bitten her. Giovanni’s sharp little crocodile teeth threatened to do worse damage than a petty little mark.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he bickered.

“Where did you get this, that’s so dangerous,” Molly started.

“I don’t care, give it!” Giovanni struggled against the older girl’s strength.

Before Molly could continue, Giovanni lunged. He scrambled up her leg like a rabid koala until his hands grasped around the hilt of his bat. He threw his entire body backwards, toppling Molly over onto the floor and sending him spinning with the bat still in hand. He went around and around until his hands loosened. The bat soared through the air toward Mera.

She didn’t flinch. She snapped her fingers. An orange barrier appeared before her, pinballing the bat back at Giovanni. He yelped, but caught it all the same. Indus popped his head up from a large pile of boxes in the clearing.

“Lady Mera! Are you alright?!” he fretted.

“’M fine, Indus. But you,” she levelled a cold, mirrored stare at Giovanni and his boys. “won’t be. Scatter Shot.”

Her hand splayed out in front, palm open and fingers crooked. The barrier trembled with a sick little cracking sound, like someone was stepping on glass with high heeled boots. Then it split apart. Two pieces, five pieces, ten pieces. In the blink of an eye, the solid disc was shattered into uneven chunks. Indus rocketed forward and punched into the middle. The chunks zoomed forward at lightning speed, aimed squarely for the Baby Banzais!

“Ah! Oh no, no, no!” Molly lunged. She wrapped her body in her Epithet and brandished her hands in front of her, ready to catch the chunks as they hit her and not the kids. The chunks struck her body, dealing only minor impact damage. She let out a shaky little breath. None of it had flown past and hit the kids. Good, good. “Shhhh…” she whispered. Her arms closed around the barrier pieces in a hug. “Hushabye…shhh…shhh…”

Blink. The pieces were gone. She sighed in relief.

“Phew.”

“W-What was that?” Mera stammered. Indus had retreated to her side the moment Molly caught the barrier pieces. He was currently acting as a second crutch, holding his master up in place of her fallen aid. “You have an Epithet.”

Molly blanched. “Um!” she whimpered. She looked at the kids again, then back to Mera and Indus. Mera was staring her down, cold as steel and sharp as it too. “Um!”

Her grip weak, Mera squeezed Indus’s arm. “Indus…”

“Yes, Lady Mera?” he chirped, ignoring the grave tone of her voice.

“Grab them. Now,” Mera growled.

Chapter Text

“W – Wuh – What?” Molly stammered.

“Why?” Indus cocked his head like a confused puppy.

“I’ll find the amulet. You, just – put them somewhere. We don’t have time for this.” Mera shuffled down and scooped up her fallen crutch. Once balanced again, she hauled away into the towering pile of crumbled boxes, some smashed open and others popped like soda bottles with a crowbar. It was easily much taller than the girl. “I need that girl’s Epithet. Get them, now.”

“Yes, Lady Mera,” Indus beamed.

Though his smile was genuine, the way he cracked his knuckles and rolled told Molly everything she needed to know. If she’d had the time, she might have asked a dozen more questions. If she’d been alone, she might have tried to dumb Indus down and go from there. But she had company.

Without hesitation, Molly turned, hauled Giovanni over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and took off sprinting, yelling a hurried “Come on!”. Her hands flailed for the other Banzais. Flamethrower and Dark Star caught them. Crusher grabbed Spike and Ben under his arms, with Car Crash grabbing his collar to scramble onto his back, and took off after Molly.

Indus stared after them dumbly. He looked to his master. Mera stared at him like a little kid would stare at a plate full of broccoli. She slammed one of her crutches on a nearby box, smashing it open and spilling the valuable contents onto the muddled floor.

“Don’t just stand there, you dope! Go after them!” she screamed.

Indus nodded, smiling, and took off in the same direction as the escapees. Mera sighed and smashed another box open. She hated dealing with Indus. He was gigantic and stupid. Anytime they went anywhere, he caught people’s attention. He was fifteen and covered in actual tattoos, not those flimsy press-ons that kids got at corner stores to seem cool and impress their puppy crushes, and he said hello to literally every person they passed. It got annoying fast. Hence Mera not riding around on his shoulders anymore. That said, the crutches weren’t much better. God, her legs. Her legs hurt. Her head hurt.

She wanted today to be over with already.

--------

Molly wanted everything that was happening to be over already!

She darted through exhibits in the Taiga section. Everything was starting to look the same. Identical blurs of glossy paintings and evergreen fossils, interspaced with the occasional cowboy mannequin. It was all the same old stuff she had read about a thousand times on the several field trips she’d taken at Lori’s age, and nothing made sense when it flew by in dashes of colour and text. She gritted her teeth. Her feet pounded with ache. As did her chest. Not just from the stress and exhaustion, but also from the rampant kicking of one Giovanni Potage still slung over her shoulder. His scuffed sneakers hammered into her sweatervest, rainwater flicking off onto her hoodie.

“Put me down!” he yelled. His Band-Aid-covered fists thumped at her back.

“Boss, stop it! She can’t!” Spike snipped from under Crusher’s arm.

“I can fight this guy, lemme take him! I’ll give him hell!”

If Molly weren’t totally focused on running, she might’ve retorted with a firm no. Instead she skidded around a corner. They needed to hide somewhere. Somewhere small. Big enough to fit seven kids and a teenager but small enough to keep Indus out, either through lack of capacity or a struggle to access.

She must have been muttering this, because Giovanni stopped kicking and punching. His head perked up. He scanned the flashing signs and exhibits going by his face. He wriggled around, twisting until he was facing forward, and climbed onto Molly’s back. Her arms unconsciously clamped down around his knees to keep him in place. Couldn’t drop him, couldn’t let him get hurt. Giovanni’s sharp eyes squinted like little black periscopes, and his hand shot out past Molly’s cheek.

“THERE!” He was pointing toward the Australia section. “Hide in there!”

“Great!” Molly whispered huskily. It WAS great! Perfect, actually!

Hands tightening on Dark Star and Flamethrower, she powered through the empty ache snaking up her legs from her feet and flew into the dinosaur exhibits. Her eyes skipped over a few different options. The Apatosaurus’s ribs were too big, Indus could get inside. The Velociraptor was too small. No, no, no…

“T-REX!” Giovanni grinned. He scrambled off of Molly’s back, tumbling to the floor. His sudden fall forced Crusher to skid to a stop, shocking him into sitting on the floor and dropping Spike and Ben. The two dropped kids whined at the treatment. Like a sea urchin trying not to be eaten, Giovanni skittered across the floor, up onto the podium on the Tyrannosaurus, and into the bones. Molly held her breath. Then Giovanni’s head popped out of the ribs and he held his hands out to her. “Pass me my boys!”

“R – Right!”

She lifted each kid one at a time. Well, she tried. Crusher grabbed the ribs on his own and hefted himself up like they were monkey bars. Spike followed Giovanni’s example and scrambled up through the bones. Once the other four boys were up in the ribcage, Molly grabbed two ribs just as Crusher had done. She struggled up. She ignored the ache that had since spread into her arms from her legs. Giovanni grabbed her wrists and yanked her up the last bit. Her boots just squeaked through as Indus thumped into the room.

He looked around. He blinked several times.

“Hello? Miss Bear? Small warriors?” Indus called. He slowly roamed around the exhibits, weaving in and out of the skeletons. One of his hands came up to fiddle with his suspenders. “Hmmm…where did you go?” he pondered. The trembling Banzais huddled in closer to Molly and Giovanni. Spike grabbed for the fluff of Molly’s hoodie, hiding her face behind the softness. Indus’s gaze wandered in a perfect circle around the room. Then his eyes lit up. One of the Banzais let out a squeak. Giovanni grabbed Flamethrower, who apparently made the noise, and covered his mouth, petting down his hair with the other hand. It seemed to work, because Flamethrower stopped shaking.

With a gasp, Indus thudded toward the Tyrannosaurus skeleton…and blew right past. He halted in front of the Apatosaurus’s podium. Both hands tightened around his suspenders, tugging them fiercely, as he vibrated with excitement, grin plain and simple on his face. His eyes sparkled.

“Wow! If I were as tall as you, I could carry Lady Mera everywhere! She would never need to walk again! We’d never get lost! What is the secret to your height, Mister…” He slammed his forehead into the button on the podium.

“Apatosaurus,” an automated voice stated.

“Apatosaurus,” Indus smiled. He sighed. “Warrior of the tall…”

If Lorelai were here, Molly was certain she would have said many mean things. About how Indus was already extremely tall, about how Apatosauruses weren’t warriors because they were herbivores, about how there were a lot of taller dinosaurs than Apatosauruses, stupid. But Molly wasn’t about to say that. Kids could like what they liked! Molly certainly thought that.

“Now!” Indus clapped. “Back to searching!” He put his proverbial nose to the ground and shot off down the hallway into another exhibit.

The Banzais and Giovanni let out collective sighs of relief. Spike emerged from Molly’s hoodie hiding spot.

“We could’ve died,” Dark Star muttered.

“He could turn us into paste,” Ben whimpered.

“That lady was scary,” Spike chirped.

They all sat up on their knees and cheered. “This is awesome!!” they chorused.

“This is great! They’re on a treasure hunt and think we’re a threat!” Giovanni jittered with glee. He cackled. “Awesome! When he comes back, we’ll get the drop on him and take him out no problem! Then we can go back, beat up that lady right in the face, and find whatever she was looking for! Good plan.”

“Good plan,” the Baby Banzais parroted.

“Wuh – What?” Molly blanched. “You can’t fight them, either of them. You’ll get hurt.”

“You’re not my mom,” Giovanni pouted. “so don’t tell me what to do. Besides, you took my Soul Slugger Doom Bat. I’m not gonna listen to you until I get an apology. Or a bribe.”

Oh. Molly shuffled on her knees and rummaged around in her duffel bag. It wasn’t a bat, but Lorelai never playing with this anymore. She would understand if Molly gave it to an angry kid to make amends. She pulled out a small wooden puppet, hand-carved, dressed up like a baseball player. Its little jersey read ‘PLAY BALL’ in red and white letters. It had a peppermint stick look to its outfit, with kneepads and a black cap glued to the bare wood underneath. She cradled it in her hands and held it out to Giovanni. His eyes flickered to look at the doll.

“Here,” she offered. “I’m sorry I took your bat. The way you were swinging it around made me think you were going to hurt one of your friends, or maybe yourself. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope this makes you feel better.”

His pout softened. His eyes sparkled. He took the puppet from Molly’s hands and balanced it on one of his palms, using his other fingers to move the mouth in a wordless chatter. Then he righted the cap and flipped the doll over a couple of times.

“Did you make this?”

Molly nodded sheepishly.

“It’s so cool!” Giovanni gushed. “What’s his name?”

“Maximillian,” Molly made up. Molly didn’t really have any attachment to that name. Lori had tossed the doll aside at the first moment she had gotten into some volleyball show a month or so ago, and Molly had felt sorry for the poor puppet. Thrown away before he could even have a name. No good, not for one of Lori’s toys. So she had picked him up, shoved him in the bag, and made a mental note to name him later.

Giovanni’s face scrunched like he had bitten a lemon. “What is it with you and old people names? First Molly, now Maximillian.” He said ‘Max-i-mill-ian’ by the syllable, like he was trying to say it through a mouthful of toffee.

A guilty sort of weight settled on Molly’s heart. She glanced away. “Sorry…”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Giovanni smiled. He shuffled to sit criss-cross-applesauce. “I’m great at naming junk! Hmm…” He peered studiously at the puppet. Its dumb face stared back. He grinned. “His name is Giorno! That way he matches me,” he announced.

His boys clapped with quiet cheers.

“Thank you, thank you.” His alligator eyes turned on Molly. “Your turn!” Before Molly could react, Giovanni was skittering uneasily around her perched form. He nosed at her duffel bag, lifted the hood of her hoodie to see the bear ears, and finally ruffled through the bag. He must have found something good, because he came out grinning. “Let’s see…you make things quiet, you have a sewing kit …”

“I like making stuff,” Molly mumbled, fiddling with a stray star in her hair.

Giovanni hummed, then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! Your new name is Stitches!”

“Okay.” Being renamed for purposes of a game was not a foreign concept to Molly. Lori renamed herself to be the main character all the time, and when they were little, Molly would get new names too. She could pretend this was a game. Because to these little wannabe Banzai Blasters, it probably was.

“Great! Now, we have to get back to that backroom and find that amulet before that lady does. If we can take it, we can make them do what we want!”

“Or they’ll just beat us up,” Spike grimaced.

“Or that, yeah, maybe that.” Giovanni stroked his chin. His motions said thinking but his eyes did not. “We should go around! That way they won’t see us coming.”

Grabbing the ribcage, he dropped down through the makeshift prison and tumbled onto the floor. The other Banzais fell down after him. Crusher acted as a landing pad to most of them, particularly Spike and Car Crash since they were much smaller than the others. Molly wriggled out after them, landing uneasily on her feet. Her boots clip-clopped softly as she trailed along after the kids, with Giovanni marching ahead with pomp and vigour.

“Do you really think you can beat Miss Mera?” she called ahead.

“Of course, he can!” Flamethrower boasted. “Boss can do anything!”

“He’s super strong!” Car Crash chimed.

“He can make himself into a jet pack!” Dark Star gushed.

“He makes a mean bisque,” Crusher murmured.

Giovanni glowed under the praise of his boys.

“Oh, cool,” Molly smiled. “If he can do anything, can he call someone for me? I don’t have my cell phone.”

“Ha!” Giovanni barked. “Nice try! You’re my minion now! You can’t pull a fast one on me.” Oh, crap. He saw through her. “I know you’re just trying to call my mom and get me grounded.”

…Oh. He was a loser. Good! Molly dealt with losers on a regular basis. They were basically her bread and butter, considering she was one too.

“Drat. You caught me,” she acquiesced. She threw up her hands in a shrug.

“You’ll get better at it, don’t worry!” He poked his head around a corner leading out of the Australian section. He looked back, then forth, then kept marching along into the tiny Ocean Country section. The familiar, sleepy haze dripped onto Molly’s brain like honey. “I can teach you later. But if I do, you can’t use trickeries on ME! I’M the boss. Not you.”

“Okay.”

“Promise? Pinkie swear?”

Molly made a cross over her heart and covered her eye.

Giovanni nodded approvingly. “Good! Alright, this place should be good!” He untied the raincoat from his shoulders, revealing a baseball-shaped backpack, and threw it over a standing water vial. Retying the sleeves around the circumference made a decently serviceable flag. “This is home base! If you get lost, come back here. If you need to find me and Stitches, we’ll be here. Now go scout your exhibits! Grab what you can and then we’ll get back to the backrooms. AAAAAND BREAK!”

All six of the Banzais clapped in unison. Then they sprinted off in different directions, all grouped off like Giovanni had ordered back in the Deepwood exhibit. Except Ben. Ben flipped back and forth, and stared at Giovanni cluelessly. He pointed him off in the same direction that Flamethrower had run off in. Once Ben was out of sight, Giovanni turned to Molly and sighed in relief.

“Boy, that took more work than I thought it would!” he grinned. He cracked his knuckles and stretched out his arms. “Since we’re staying here, we should decorate.” He skittered over to some open seaglass displays. After grabbing an armful for himself, he spilled his collection over the floor and got to his knees in front of it. He motioned for Molly to join him as he fiddled with some red and pink assortments. “Come on.”

“It’s not good to steal, Giovanni,” Molly complained meagrely.

“We’re criminals now! You don’t have to worry about right and wrong. Now COME! ON!” He smacked the floor twice to punctuate. “There’s, like, a bajillion things we can make with this stuff!”

“Oh. Oh, okay!” Well, Molly didn’t need much convincing. It beat working, that was for sure.

She sat criss-criss-applesauce in front of the seaglass. With careful hands, she slid different shards around the floor until she had a decent collection of white, purple, green and pink. There was no brown, but that was fine. She could probably make a polar bear out of the white glass too if there was some spare. There was black glass for a panda bear too, maybe even a sun bear, but Giovanni was quickly devouring it for his own little piece. She busied the shards around. In a matter of moments, she had a green and pink bear slid into place, and she started work on a bunny.

Giovanni peered over. He had positioned Giorno to sit in his lap, so the puppet toppled over his legs as he stared at Molly’s decorations. “You really like bears, huh?”

“Yeah,” Molly mused. “What’s your favourite animal?”

“Painted dog!”

“I’ve never heard of those.”

“You’re missing out! They’re basically the bad boys of all the dogs! They’ve got all these cool patterns like they rolled around in paint, and they’re pretty fast, but you can’t have them as pets because a lot of their food is stuff they need to chase to burn their energy. That way they have plenty of room for food,” he rambled.

Molly nodded along.

“They’re tall too. They’ve got real big ears so they can hear better than other dogs even if it makes them look weird, and their toe beans are kinda smushed together in the middle so their just have four instead of five.” He stopped abruptly. “Hey, wait, don’t do that!”

Molly startled. “Do what?”

“You asked me about dogs so you didn’t have to talk about bears! What, are they not actually your favourites or something?”

“No, no, no! I like bears,” she assured him. He relaxed. “But you don’t wanna hear about bears. You like painted dogs, so we should talk about them.”

“That’s stupid. Did someone tell you that?”

“Tell me what?”

“That they don’t wanna hear about bears. Did someone tell you to stop talking about them sometime?”

They did. Lorelai did. Her teacher did, back in sixth grade. Her old friends from her old school did too, before she dropped out for the store and her family.

“No,” she lied.

“Well that’s stupid!” He threw his hands up in the air. “You should talk about what you want. What do you wanna talk about? Right now!”

Molly stammered. “Um – I – uh!” She glanced down to her bag. It was still a little open from Giovanni’s Naming Rummage. She spotted a little bit of purple fabric and a few button eyes. “Toys?” she winced.

Giovanni blinked. Once, then twice. Then his pupils lit up like fireworks. “Great! While you talk, we can make something together! You’re really good at the glass stuff. Do you have any glass in your bag?”

“Ah – no. No, just…soft stuff.”

“Good enough!” He lunged for the duffel bag. His grabby hands gripped the purple fabric, tore it out (along with Molly’s sewing kit and the buttons), and tipped out his backpack. Red wool toppled out onto the linoleum tiles. He stared at Molly expectantly. His hands rolled in a little Go on motion before they flitted to knitting needles.

The bluescreen on Molly’s brain rebooted itself. She hummed as she threading her needle and began stitching together a few purple pieces.

“Well. I like making toys. My dad taught me when I was little, while my mom was working the counter of our store. He said it was a good distraction for when I got overwhelmed, which was…a lot. Still is. I used to sit down under his work table when nobody else was around and made wooden stuff because I couldn’t use a needle yet.”

“I hear that,” Giovanni grumbled. “I wasn’t allowed knitting needles for, like, two years. I had to CROCHET instead.”

“Why?”

“I don’t remember exactly, but my cousin says I stabbed him.”

Seemed on brand, to Molly.

“Continue,” Giovanni motioned with the end of his needle.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Um, so when I learned to stitch, I got really into stuffed animals. And that was when my sister was born, so I started making stuff during my panic attacks for her and for the store. I made little bunnies for my mom too. She liked moon rabbits, like the ones from the old stories. But when she died,” Molly’s hands shook a little. Her stitch went crooked, and she unlooped it to rethread the needle. “everything got thrown out. Now I just make stuffies for Lori. Because she likes them and when she’s done with them, they’re always okay enough that we can sell them.”

“Oh.” Giovanni’s needles clicked together quieter. Molly couldn’t see it, but he was making a sour pout. Like someone had given him a nice meal but then told him it was all fake and he had just eaten wax.

“I run the front and take over for Dad sometimes. He gets distracted a lot.” Molly ignored the venom that spat out of her own mouth. “But it’s fine. Fine.”

A pinprick stare bore into Molly as she continued sewing. Her hands trembled a little harder. She tried to focus harder on her needle and thread, on the purple fabric she was sewing into a shark fin, but Giovanni’s own needles stopped click-clacking. She chanced a look toward him. He was just…staring at her.

“You’re such a push-over,” he muttered. He didn’t blink at all, and it felt like he was judging her.

Molly shrank. She scrunched her shoulders up near her ears. “Sorry…” she whispered.

“And there’s the problem! Stop apologising for stuff that’s not your fault! You’re not a doormat, you’re a person!” Giovanni hollered. He lowered his volume when he noticed Molly’s wince. “Your family sounds like a bunch of jerks. ‘Specially your dad.”

“Hehe, yeah,” she chuckled weakly.

“I think you need to stand up for yourself. Or at least make some more friends so you can run away. That way nobody can tell you what to do.”

Molly hummed absently. “I tried once. People…don’t tend to like me.”

“You’re PLENTY likeable! Look, your name is Stitches! If someone’s mean to you, sew their mouth shut!”

That made Molly laugh. It came out so fast and sudden that it sent her into a coughing fit undercut with sporadic laughter. Which made Giovanni laugh his weird supervillain cackle. Molly dissolved into giggles as her coughs calmed down and she snapped the thread on the plushie. Body, fins, button eyes, tail. A decent shark. But when Giovanni leaned over (after placing Giorno on the floor for safety) and looped a heart-shaped knit over its face, popping the button eyes through a pair of loops, it was perfect.

----------

“PERFECT! Just PERFECT!”

Mera had been yelling very loudly and very openly. For about three minutes, if she had to put a time to it. Which she didn’t want to, because technically that could set off volume sensors that she knew were around. Not in the backrooms, but if she yelled loud enough for long enough then they’d go off in the nearest exhibit. Still, she was angry. And she needed to get it out somehow.

She tried to haul herself through the boxes. All she achieved was banging her legs against a few and stubbing her toes in rubble. She hissed and groaned.

“I keep bumping into these stupid boxes. Where is that oaf?! I need him to move these – INDUS! INDUS, WHERE ARE YOU!” Less of a question, more of a threat. Not that Indus could understand what a threat was.

Right on cue, heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. Panting and almost tripping over his own size, Indus burst into the backrooms. He flipped back and forth like a pinwheel in a blizzard, frantically scanning the area for threats or intruders.

“Are you harmed? I heard you yelling! Do you need assistance?!” he fretted.

“I’m always harmed, Indus. Move the wrecked boxes and pop some more open, I need to look and my fingers are starting to make that cracking sound.” As if to punctuate her point, Mera’s hands made small, glass-like cricks and creaks. She winced.
Indus scooped her off her feet. Careful to mind the stray shards of broken wood and nail, he placed her up on a high windowsill. She was tiny so it was problem at all for her to perch there like a bird denied flight. She sighed. Cradling her cheek in her palm, she watched Indus clear way the rubble in a hurry, eager to please his friend. Well, not friend. Mera was his master. Ever since she managed to beat him in a fight, he had trailed after her like a lost puppy and been about as useful as a bulldozer. It made Mera’s life easier, for sure. She didn’t have to strain herself to exist with him offering to carry her and finishing the fights she picked. But he was dumb. She could put up with it sometimes, but otherwise it got frustrating. Speaking of which…

Eyes widening, she realised something. She shuffled forward a little and peeked around the corner of the shelves. It was a struggle, but she could vaguely see shadows darting back and forth in the Deepwood section, small and giggling. She scowled, then turned on Indus with the presence of a tiger but the intimidation factor of a kitten.

“Indus.”

“Yes, Lady Mera?”

“Did you catch that girl and those kids like I said?”

“I could not find them!” he replied chipperly. “They disappeared!”

Mera slammed her hand into the windowsill. Her fingers threatened to snap. “INDUS!!” she roared. “PLEASE tell me she used her Epithet to make you stupider than you already are!”

“No,” he smiled.

She growled and snapped her teeth. “Indus, if I wanted something as big and brainless as you are, I would have gotten a professional! Or a wrecking ball! You’re just here because you don’t cost anything and I don’t have money!” She hauled her crutch up and hucked it at him, smacking him in the back but not doing a lick of damage because of course not. “Now we have eight thieves RUNNING AROUND looking for the amulet and WE’RE SCREWED if they decided to come back here! Or if they get smart and call the police!”

Polite as ever, Indus bowed his head in shame. He picked up Mera’s crutch and bought it back over to her. He subsequently got kicked in the head for zero damage, but he let her get her rage out. It was better than her bottling it up.
“We don’t even know if the amulet is really here!” Mera groaned. She smushed the heels of her hands into her eyes and fell backward into the window.

A sigh came from the doorway. “Not here, huh? This was a waste of an evening.”

Mera and Indus perked up. He picked her up off the windowsill, balanced her on his shoulders, and together they cautiously paced around the shelves of artefacts.

Another intruder. Definitely older than either of them, but not taller than Indus. At least a quarter-foot shorter, actually. An adult. Mera sighed. Great. The intruder pushed up his glasses and paced into the light, the lenses reflecting off and guising his eyes. His labcoat swayed at his ankles. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring emptily at the pair of thieves without flare or drama. In her mind, Mera snarled. He looked like some stupid, knock-off anime character from one of the shows she had to sit through as a kid.

Grunting to himself, Indus darted backward and placed Mera back on the windowsill. “Do not worry, Lady Mera!” He stood away from the new stranger, knuckles cracked and expression determined. “I will defend your honour and your safety.”

“Excuse me?” the intruder deadpanned.

“TAKE THIS!” Indus thundered down the shelves toward the stranger.

The stranger side-stepped him easily. A glow of orange dust trailed after him, and it smacked Indus in the face with a puff. A snap of fingers and it was lights out. Indus collapsed to the ground, asleep. His heavy snoring was absorbed by discarded treasures he fell onto.

“Oh, thank god, I was about two seconds from strangling him,” Mera mumbled. She peered back to the stranger, who paced around the shelves and to the windowsill. Apparently, it wasn’t as high as it felt, because he easily met her eyes by just tilting his head up a bit. She was still taller at this leverage, though. Good. It made her feel stronger. “And who are you supposed to be? Thief? Police?”

“As if,” the stranger scoffed. “I would never align myself with such low-lives. I don’t have the time. I’m here on official business, but if the Arsene Amulet isn’t here yet, then I may as well go.”

Mera’s eyes widened. She made a grab for his sleeve. “Wait a minute.” He halted. “Official business. You’re that Doctor Ashling guy. Dan said you got permits to visit whenever you wanted.”

“I am, and I did. Why?”

She took him up and down. “Huh. Thought you’d have less of a babyface.”

Sylvester wrenched her hand off of him. His face turned from perfectly self-assured to that of a petulant child in a flash. “Do NOT call me that!” he barked. Surprised by his own outburst, he righted his coat and cleared his throat. “Ahem. I’m an interested party. Now, is the amulet here or not? I have clients in the morning and I would prefer my sleep schedule not be more disrupted than it already is.”

Ugh, Mera could relate to that.

“What do you want it for? Doctors like you have unlimited access to whatever you want, right? Just ask around if you need information on psyches and stuff.”

“Unfortunately, an artefact like the Arsene Amulet only comes around once in a blue moon. The removal and subsequent absence of an Epithet from an Inscribed is a concept I am drawn toward. The impact on the mind and sense of self would be utterly fascinating. In any case, would you happen to know the whereabouts of the amulet if it’s not here? I’d prefer to get this over with without a fight.” He glanced toward a slumbering Indus. “Less of a fight,” he corrected.

Oh. Oh, okay, Mera could work with this. She cleared her throat and scrunched up, watering her eyes and trying to make herself look as pitiful and tiny as possible. Granted, it was not hard. Plus, she’d had a lot of practice with this. She’d started a lot of fights she had to charm or weasel her way out of before she found Indus.

Sniffling, she clasped her hands together and wiped away mock tears. “I’m so sorry, Dr Ashling. It WAS here, we swear. But some rotten thieves broke in while I was locking up and took it. My phone is broken, and they clipped the wires of the one by the entrance. We…we weren’t strong enough to fend them off…” she trailed off.

Sylvester crossed his arms. He glanced out. Little footsteps jangled around the hallways, all shadows darting back and forth until they all trotted off in the direction of the Ocean section. He hummed to himself. He pushed his glasses into place with a smirk. The light unclouded the lenses, revealing a spiral-patterned eyepatch over his right eye.

“Thieves, you say? No worries. I’m sure I’m plenty stronger than these criminals. You two can stay here. This will be over faster than they could realise.” He broke off into a laugh. Much too loud to be intimidating. He sucked at this. Mera made a gagging face as he strolled out, labcoat flapping with dreamy orange dust.

-----------

The other Baby Banzais scampered back into the Ocean section soon enough. Only Flamethrower and Ben had something to show for it: a small piece of geode that Ben had chipped off. He neglected to mention that he had tripped and smashed his jaw into the exhibit, and Flamethrower wasn’t going to tattle about it. Giovanni would make a fuss. According to Crusher, Spike, Dark Star and Car Crash, all the other exhibits were nailed down or surrounded by alarms. Admittedly, there were less lasers than in the movies.

Giovanni crossed his arms. “Well, that’s no good! I mean, we’re not gonna get into ANY villain organisation with just a little geode.” He patted Ben and Flamethrower on the head. “Good job, though! Better than nothing!” His boys glowed under the reassurance. “Guess we’ll have to grab from here. Man, figured we’d get something better than sea junk. Oh well. Banzais gotta Blaster.”

It crossed Molly’s mind to offer her Epithet for assistance. If she dumbed down some of the security (something her friend had urged her to train into), the kids could grab something substantial! It also crossed her mind that that was illegal. Extremely so. But she was already here babysitting a bunch of sneak-ins. She might as well make it fun.

“So, you’re the thieves.”

Nobody in attendance had overheard the footsteps clacking up to the leverage point. The Ocean Country section – in its dedication to being as accurate as possible, despite its size – had a tall cliff near the back, behind all the glass vials and aquarium beams. It was easy for security to perch up there and observe without being noticed. When Molly came here on a day trip with her friends, her friend’s little sister decided to announce a game of hide-and-seek. It took calling security for her to pop her head back over the edge of the cliff. In a similar manner now, a lanky man peeked his head over the edge of the cliff. As he approached, closer and closer, Molly made out soft orange hair, a fluffy collar, and a pair of gleaming glass lenses.

An adult. He was an adult! Oh, this was wonderful! She could ask him for help, or at least for his cell phone.

Before she could open her mouth and introduce herself, the man swung a yo-yo up into his palm. The body got caught in his palm and held away from his body while his other hand pulled the string taut near his chest. Molly gulped. Uh oh.

“Let’s make this quick and easy, hm?” Sylvester glowed with an ambient orange aura. Dust brushed off his shoulders as he rolled them. “Hand over the Arsene Amulet, and I won’t have to fight you.”

“Excuse me?” Molly managed.

“Tch, what? Uh, excuse me, Babyface, but we don’t have the Arsenic Whatchamacallit,” Giovanni grumbled.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Another little outburst. Sylvester sighed deeply, then levelled his yo-yo directly at Molly and Giovanni. She scooted in front of Giovanni on instinct. Sylvester’s eye narrowed. “Sleeping Sand,” he commanded.

A hush fell over the room. Amber and gold dust began to drift from the ceiling, falling gently like snow onto the Banzais and Molly. A speck tapped Molly’s uppermost star, and a wave of comforting haziness washed over her entire body. Sleepy…oh no! She shook her head and whipped any residual dust away. She untied her bear hoodie from her waist, ushered the Banzais in, and raised it up over them like an umbrella. She had to crouch to fit under too.

“Don’t let the dust touch you,” she whispered. “He’s got an Epithet. Can any of you try to dispel it?”

“You can, right?” Dark Star assumed.

“I can only use Hushabye on what I can grab. I can hold the dust, but it’s too finicky. It’s s’possed to be hard to grab and dispel on purpose.”

“Smart,” Sylvester called out.

Grinning, Giovanni scampered out of the hoodie’s shade. “I can do something!”

He slammed his hands together and squatted. A thick steam began to pour out of his palms, building up and up and up! He spun on his heels in circles until he was surrounded by the steam in a whirling tornado, then he let his hands separate and he shot up straight like a rocket. The tornado exploded and blew the amber dust away in one big shockwave. Utterly defeated.

Giovanni brushed off his shoulders and slapped his chest proudly. “There! No problem! How’d you like my Demon Energy Aura, Babyface?!” he taunted.

“That was great, Boss!” Molly smiled. She unwrapped her hoodie from the umbrella manoeuvre and tied it around her hips again. She still kept the other Banzais close, though. Safety first.

Sylvester did not think it was great. Sylvester though this small child was already a thorn in his side, even more so than kids usually were. He snarled.

“Well, you’re part of my minion team now, Stitches. THAT was Demon Energy Aura, one of my super cool secret moves!” He made a very dorky pose with one hand in a peace sign and the other making devil horns over his hair. Molly snickered. “Being part of my minions means you get special access to knowing ALL my moves, including my super-secret technique! If I hit something twelve times, my thirteenth hit will be even more powerful!”

The Baby Banzais cheered to emphasize.

“Oh, wow.” She paused. “Does that having anything to do with soup, or...?”

“Nope, just awesomeness!” Giovanni grinned.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” Sylvester yelled.

With a flick of his hand, the yo-yo whirled up into the air. It spun around and around like a propeller, eventually blurring so fast that Molly was sure she would get dizzy if she stared for too long. If his dust made people sleepy, then there was a chance his Inscription had something to do with sleep or dreams, so that yo-yo might actually make people fall asleep too. She herded the Banzais behind her and dragged Giovanni backward to her side, holding the cuff of her hoodie in front of his eyes just in case.

“Counting Sheep!”

The area within the yo-yo glowed, pulsating gold. Then a chorus of thundering ‘baa’s echoed out across the room. One after the other, emptying out in waves, came small, fluffy sheep in all shades of yellow and orange. Their determined little faces scrunched up and they barrelled toward the group on stubby legs. Molly squeaked. Sure, they were just small sheep, but they were Epithet summons! They could be dangerous! Some of Lorelai’s creations came to mind.

“I’ve got this! Lava Grenade!” Giovanni hucked a ball of broiling tomato-basil at the horde of sheep. One exploded, but the rest were unharmed by the blowback. Giovanni shrugged. “Okay, I’m outta idea.”

“Ummm! Okay! Uh, stay behind me, it’s going to be okay!” Molly hurried. Giovanni, for all his rebelliousness, did as he was told and huddled in close to his boys. He posed like a T around them, trying to block anything the sheep might do. The Banzais, to the credit, clutched to him and Molly like baby koalas.

The sheep surrounded the group! Closer and huddled, they swarmed them! And they pleasantly bounced and danced around their feet. Oh. Molly blinked dazedly. The corners of her mouth quirked up a bit. This was actually pretty relaxing. Her fluffier friend would love this.

“EEP!” Spike wailed. “They nibble! They nibble HARD!”

“Oh, gross! Get off, get off!” Dark Star frantically shook his leg, trying to toss off a sheep. It had his ankle in its teeth. Every bite and nibble dealt only a little damage, but the sheer number of them threatened to take the Baby Banzais and Giovanni down in only a minute or so even with Giovanni batting them down and out.

Molly steeled her expression. She flipped her hoodie around so it rested over her long skirt like an apron. Kneeling to the ground, she pressed her palms flat against the cool tiles. A handful of sheep sniffed at her. They reared their teeth to bite, but they never got the chance. Their eyes drooped and the glow of their wool ebbed. Up and down, up and down, down, down… Poof. They were gone. She stood up, eyes closed, and spun in a slow circle, entire body coated in green and pink dumb energy. Every sheep that came rocketing toward her or merely bumped into her was vaporized. It wasn’t as violent as Giovanni’s frantic batting and she knew it didn’t hurt the sheep. They would be just fine the next time they were summoned. Once the entire flock was gone, Molly lowered her aura. She opened her eyes, and the kids frittered and fluttered back to her as if acting as replacements for the baaing sheep.

“Ugh,” Sylvester groaned. “Of course, you have an Epithet. No matter. Mela, go!”

“Mela? AGH!” Something amber and baaing smacked her right in the face. Oh no, had she missed one? She glanced around blearily. Had it hit any of the kids as well? Nobody but her looked sleepy. Good, good. But not good for her. Her vision dazed. Her heart slowed. She stumbled on sleepy, weak legs.

Giovanni hustled to her side. “Stiches! Are you okay?”

“Now, let’s see what’ll stop you for good. Night Terror!” Sylvester announced.

Splatters. Against her boots. Deep and red, like puddles of red food dye. But that wasn't what it was. Molly never used red food dye. Sparks caught on her skirt, trailing up and up until they manifested into flames. Molly’s breath caught. Then it sped up. No. Oh no. Not again. No, no, no, no.

From the outside, Giovanni couldn’t see whatever Molly was seeing. All she could see was how slumbering dust flooded into her eyes and encapsulated her head in translucent, wavering bubble of amber and gold flecks. He grabbed Molly’s hand and pulled at her fingers. “Stitches!” he urged. She didn’t respond. Her breathing sped up faster and faster. He yanked harder. “Hey, c’mon! Wake up!”

A shaky sob escaped Molly’s chest. She crumbled to her knees, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. No tears spilled, but she was shaking. Whimpers snaked out.

“No, no, no…I – I tried…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” she squeaked.

Giovanni studied her warily. Then his mouth twisted into a determined pout. He threw one hand out to his boys. “Boys!” They all stood to attention. They would listen to him, no matter how scared they were. “Crusher, Dark Star, Ben, go smash stuff! Flamethrower, Car Crash, Spike, try and barricade all the doors to keep the water in!”

“Boss, that’ll drown us!” Ben cried.

“Just go do it or you’re fired!”

They couldn’t argue with that. The pair of trios skittered off in different directions. As one trio went off to a different room to topple exhibits and cross laser lines, the other trio used nothing but their tiny fists to bash against the plexiglass of the standing water. It didn’t work, but it got them away from Molly. Giovanni knelt beside her. Her arms had shifted. Now they were tight around her stomach like she was cradling herself.

A solid weight rested against Molly’s shoulder. Amidst her nightmare, she glanced to the side. Away from the blood. Away from the bodies. Away from the fire as it swallowed her whole from the hem of her skirt to the tip of her bandana. Giovanni’s mess of pink hair blocked his face, but his presence was solid. Tangible. Real. Like when Lorelai would shake her awake from a nap, or when her friend fell asleep against her on the bus.

“It’s okay, Stitches,” Giovanni whispered. “You’re safe. Four seconds in, four seconds still, four seconds out.”

Oh. He knew that too. Her breath whispered in, still, and out. Her arms loosened from her waist. She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t see her sister, or her friends, or the flames. She hunched over in a ball.

“…thank you…” she mumbled.

“We’re friends,” Giovanni asserted. “And I’m your boss. I’m here to help, no matter what.”

Crick. Crack. Crick. Crack.

An insistent crickle-crackling from the walls. Giovanni’s head snapped up. There, loading punch after punch into the standing water valves, was Crusher, and he was making impressive impacts! Every time his fist connected with the steel-enforced plexiglass, the crater’s fractures spread wider. Up and up and up until one burst open, spilling its content onto the floor of the Ocean exhibit like an uncorked fire hydrant. Dark Star and Ben were barely able to get out of the way in time to avoid being completely drenched.

It triggered a domino chain. Down in a line, one by one, the vials all popped open as easy as soda cans, pouring salt water and floating debris into the small space. Granted, the debris was about as harmless as it could get. The most damage it could do was stick a duncecap nudibranch to someone’s arm. Ben got the brunt of it when he slipped trying to scramble away. The water surged in broad tidal waves. One hit Molly directly in the face. The sleeping sand melted away from its bubble, leaving a teary-eyed teenager in a small ocean up to her waist.

“Oh.” She blinked dazedly. Clambering to her feet, she kicked at the water with little effort. Little ripples bounced up. Nothing compared to the splash Giovanni threw in her face as he also stood up.

Hands fisted tight, he began yelling, “Are you okay?! You seemed really upset and you can’t get rid of the dust yourself, so I told my Boys to flood the room to wash it away!”

“Boss!” Spike shrieked. She was desperately clinging onto the doorknob of one of the doors into the exhibit. From the looks of it, the water pressure was much stronger than her, even with all of her shrimpy weight thrown into it. “What do we do?”

Giovanni flipped to look at Sylvester. The doctor scowled down, nose scrunched up and lips scrambled in disgust. As if in warning, he flung his hypnotic yo-yo into his palm and aimed it squarely at Molly. Giovanni grinned a crocodile smile.

“Let it go!” he called.

Spike, Flamethrower and Car Crash didn’t need to be told twice. Spike let go of her door, tumbling back with a heavy splash, and the boys pulled away from the broad double doors against the sudden current of several dozen gallons seawater. It was no use. They went flailing down.

With an offended huff, Sylvester flipped his yo-yo around. “Counting Sheep!” A rain of sheep scattered out. And were promptly erased.

Wobbly green and pink energy was manifested around Molly’s arms. Her brow was knit tight, eyes glinted with what she hoped was malice. Her best friend was an expert at intimidation and had tried to teach Molly how to be just as scary, because Molly was pretty bad at it, but this was the only time those lessons had come in handy. She guessed it was working. Sylvester took a cautious step backward, arm crossed somewhat across his chest, grip wavering and footing unsteady atop the cliff. Unsteady enough for him to be smacked off by a flying ball of soup.

“Yeah!” Giovanni was still in a post-throw pose, one leg kicked up behind him and arm awkward around his waist. His fingertips were soaked with tomato basil seasoning. “Nice going, Stitches! We totally nailed that dorkous malorkous! HAHAHA!” He cackled like a cartoon witch. Molly snorted. He sounded so much like Lori back in her witch phase, when she called herself a Hare-idan and enlisted Molly as her assistant. “A thirteenth hit.”

“Super move,” Molly grinned. She offered Giovanni the smallest of fist bumps, and he returned it with vigour.

Wait. Wait, no! This was bad! She had just helped attack an adult! A really, really important looking one! But he had attacked them all first, so maybe it was okay? No, Giovanni had insulted him. Hadn’t he? Was that something an adult could justify starting a fight over? Her friend’s sister did that all the time, and the same friend’s little brother punched someone for badmouthing once. What if Sylvester told the police that they broke in because he didn’t have the full story? Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no!!

“Uh, Stitches?” Giovanni interrupted. Her spiral stopped flat. Her eyes focused on him. He patted blindly for her sleeve with one hand, then pointed to where Sylvester landed with the other.

On uneasy feet, Sylvester rose. His eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted into a snarl, the dim, cracked lights around the room reflecting off his glasses until almost his whole face was either shadowed or over-lit. Barely decipherable.

“Alright, that’s it. I tried reason, I tried force. Now you’ll have to deal with HIM! DREAM BIG! AAAAAA-AAAAAAA!!”

His power scream echoed out, loud and guttural, as if Hell itself was ripping its way out of his lungs. Molly threw her arms around Giovanni in some poor attempt to shield him. She braced for impact…

…but nothing came.

Instead, a heavy thunk clattered to the floor. Sylvester had passed out. He was slumped on the floor gracelessly. His glasses had scattered off his face, and his labcoat began to absorb the residue water he landed in.

Giovanni’s nose wrinkled in gleeful laughter. “Ha-ha! His move is passing out? Pfft. Nerd.”

“Nerd!” parroted the Baby Banzais, creating a severe echo chamber.

“Just goes to show. You don’t mess with the great Giovanni Potage! Or any of my Boys. Stitches included, right, Stiches?” No response. “Stitches?”

ROOAA-AAAR.

Molly, Giovanni and the Baby Banzais all screamed.

Chapter Text

Percival King was having a serviceable evening.

She had just rounded off fencing practice for the night. She won every round, naturally, and the instructor had praised her immensely. Furthermore, her friends had arrived after class to cycle home with her, as one of them – Meryl – was very concerned about any of her friends riding around in the dark. Especially this time of year, when small-time crooks tended to pop up out of nowhere and hustle youngsters. This was not much of a concern to Percy herself, but she was always willing to assure Meryl of her safety.

Thus, here she rode. Leading the V formation of bicycles down an empty street in Sweet Jazz City, with Meryl on her left and Eros flanking the right. It was a very quiet and peaceful evening. She was glad Meryl and Eros had come to accompany her.

As the trio entered the vicinity of Sweet Jazz’s natural history museum, a loud clatter caught her attention. She slowed and lodged her bike into the designated parking spots, then slung her sword over her back and observed the situation carefully from the steps up to the large double doors.

“Percy?” Meryl called. She swerved into a U turn and ditched her bike haplessly. Joining Percy on the steps, she surveyed the museum entrance. Clearly not as studiously as Percy did, because she glanced back and forth between her friend and the building as if she had missed something. “What’s wrong? Did you hear something? Are you hurt? Did that cut actually get worse like I said or is it feeling better?”

“Why would she get off if it was feeling better?”

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s a Percy thing, Eros.”

“Perce. Hey, Percy. You good?” Eros waved his hand in front of Percy’s eyes.

She snapped back to reality. Glancing at her friends, she hummed gently. “Yes, I’m perfectly alright. I thought I heard…water.”

“Oh, gotcha. Looking forward to the holidays for butter water again,” Eros teased.

“You jest, but when combined with pinecone butter, it is actually quite the delicacy. Of course, I would never indulge myself so much as to – ah-ha – add a whole spoonful. No, that would be ridiculous. You see –”

“Come back to us, Percy. Come back,” Meryl frittered, snapping her fingers. Percy halted in her speech. “You heard water?”

“Oh. Yes, I did. From inside the museum, nonetheless. I think it would be worth investigating, if nothing else. We would not want anybody to be abandoned whilst in a maelstrom. Ha. Ha-ha. If it would make you more comfortable, you are free to wait for me here and contact the proper authorities. This should not take long.”

Without pausing for a response, Percy took her stride and ascended the steps to conduct her unofficial Junior Scout duties.

                                                               ----------------------

ROAAA-AAAAR!

Deep, heavy impacts thudded into the floor. Cloven hooves, marred with dreamy orange fur, heaved themselves into standing across from Molly and Giovanni. Both continued to clutch each other and scream. Sylvester Ashling was gone. Now a gigantic minotaur stood where he had laid, hooves kicking up leftover saltwater, with massive brawn built from mystic Inscription energy. The sight alone was enough to paralyze the other Banzais in their tracks. If they were thinking of running to Molly to cower, they definitely weren’t thinking it now.

“You may have defeated Doctor Ashling, but nobody can beat…DOCTOR BEEFTON!” the minotaur bellowed. “And he has a PhD in Death! As well as philosophy and modern linguistics.”

“Stitches!” Giovanni shrieked. “Use that Hush-a-thingy on him! Quick, quick, quick!”

“O-Okay! Get behind me!”

He did so. Molly shot ahead, hands wobbly with Dumb energy, and tried to grapple for any handle she could get on the summon. She had erased much bigger than this in Lori’s worlds, and while those were completely made up so they were easier to unravel, it was completely possible she could do this. That possibility was made completely null a moment later.

Doctor Beefton grabbed her by the head, his massive palm covering her face. Through the gaps of his grip, Molly spotted her opportunity and slapped her Epithet-coated hands on his wrist. The aura wibbled and wobbled. Then it popped away into nothingness. The doctor remained, gaze steel, snarl drowned in malice. Eep.

“Puny thief! Doctor Beefton will not be dispelled so easily!” With ease, he tossed Molly across the room.

She cushioned her own fall, but the scuffs and scrapes were worsened by the slippery tiles. Not even Dumb could numb out the aches she felt from a slick landing.

Giovanni gawked, enraged. “Hey!! Nobody picks on my minions but me!” In a flash and a flourish, he whirled his Soul Slugger Doom Bat out of his cape, smashed it against the ground and tore the knife off it. He tossed it into the air and promptly smacked the hilt with the bat, sending the knife hurtling through the air until it pierced the minotaur’s abdomen.

Nothing. The doctor removed it easily and threw it back at Giovanni’s head. He squeaked and ducked, the blade just scraping the tip of his cowlick.

“Don’t throw knives, you maniac!” he barked, like a chihuahua standing up to a rottweiler. “It’s SO much more dangerous than smacking them around, jeez!”

Molly’s button eyes flickered across Doctor Beefton’s whole body. In any kind of Epithet summon, there was usually a weak spot. Lori’s was Molly herself, because the universe stuck them together to balance each other out, she reckoned. But since there was no wake-up Epithet around here, she needed to find something else. Weak spot, weak spot… Ah! Bingo! Floating in the miasma of the minotaur doctor’s torso was Sylvester, curled into a ball, knees tucked to his chest and face relaxed with contemplative sleep. Good! Molly could work with this.

“Boss, this is his dream!”

“What, being a giant furry dude?!”

“No! He’s lucid dreaming something strong to beat us! If we can wake him up, it’ll go away.”

“And if there’s any sense in the world, he’ll be completely out of stamina! Stitches, that’s genius! Good work!” He flashed her a thumbs-up.

“Aw, thanks, Boss – look out!” She lurched forward. She managed to shove Giovanni out of the line, but in turn she ended up unable to brace herself for Beefton’s charge. He barrelled right through her, tossing her up into the air almost to the ceiling. She landed again, rougher without her cushion of an Epithet. Ow. She was going to be extremely tired for her shift the rest of the night. “Ugh.”

“Stitches!” the Baby Banzais chorused.

Spike almost made a dash for her, but Molly shooed her away.

The stars in Molly’s hair fluttered as she shook off the potential concussion. “What wakes people up? Noise, lights…”

“MOMS!” Giovanni groaned.

Beefton stalked toward her. Molly squeaked and tried to scramble backward, her hands landing in slippery patches of seawater. Her elbows hit the tile with a weak crack.

“Hey!” Lurching with unfathomable force, Beefton stared daggers down at Giovanni. A large clump of muddled, over-watered soup smacked him square in the torso, phasing through the beef. It flew right over Sylvester’s hair, just grazing the swoopy tips, and splashed on the floor. “You leave my minion alone!” More globules of watered-down broth whirled in his palms. Beefton charged him, and Giovanni immediately scrambled away, skittering around the exhibit with a raging minotaur hot on his tail.

As they encircled the central pillar, long since shattered by the exploding vials so Giovanni could dash through in a weird redirection, Molly waved her hands at the Banzais.

“Ugh…do you guys have anything? Healing-wise? I, uh. I don’t feel great.”

“I have something!” Crusher piped up. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a small thermos that sloshed with every shake he gave it. He unscrewed the cap, sat next to Molly, and tipped the contents into her mouth.

It was tomato-basil soup. Giovanni probably made it for his Boys when they were sick. Molly’s mom used to do that, make special ‘healing’ food to make the girls feel better like a placebo. It was sweet that Crusher believed it so much that he would – oh. Molly actually felt a lot better. She took another sip of the thermos. A renewed stamina poured into her veins and her head cooled from the ache of a migraine.

Crusher smiled bashfully. “Neat, right? Soup for the soul,” he hummed.

“HA! GOTCHA!” A pause. “WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!”

Giovanni and Beefton were opposing sides of the busted pillar now. Through Beefton’s abdomen, it was obvious one of the soup orbs had hit its mark. Sylvester’s hair was drenched and his face was littered with seasoning and grime. He stirred inside, but his eyes never opened. Instead his arms lazily wiped the broth and dirt away, then he curled back up and rested his forehead against his knees.

Through mocking, booming laughter, Beefton answered, “You think Doctor Ashling is puny enough to be woken by mere water? Ridiculous!”

He braced himself on the floor. His horns gleamed in the dim spotlights, tail whipping back and forth like an aggravated cat twenty times its size. Giovanni dropped backward in shock, eyes helpless. He had used up his only Soup for the Soul action making a thermos for his Boys! And there was no way he could reach Crusher before that stupid bull guy hit him, or worse, hit one of his minions instead! At least he could protect Giorno first. He’d tucked him under his raincoat-cape before the battle even started. Now, he shielded the tiny doll with all his might and braced for impact.

An impact that never came. What did come with a ringing. A horrible, grating sound over ceiling-bound speakers that scratched against eardrums and tore at nerves. Tinny and high, it wailed up and down in aggravating fluctuations. The usually noisy clip-clop of Molly’s boots was mild layered under it. She trotted up to Giovanni (and Giorno) and lifted him onto his feet. On the other side of the pillar, Beefton was clutching his ears and dwindling in size around Sylvester, rapidly losing form and feature.

“I pulled the fire alarm,” Molly explained. “Which is a crime. Don’t do that unless it’s an emergency.”

“Oh, I am SO trying that next time I have a test!” Giovanni grinned, crocodile teeth shining with mischief.

“No,” Molly smiled. She playfully and softly karate-chopped the crown of his head.

Soon enough, there was no more fluffy minotaur laying on the floor, clutching its ears in a vain attempt at deafening the noise. No, now there was only Sylvester. Laid in a puddle of soup-laced water and groggily lifting himself out of his sleeping ball. He righted his glasses. His eyes stayed trained on Molly and Giovanni, even as Molly asked one of the other kids to turn off the alarm before it drove her crazy. Dark Star did so, then sprinted back.

“How…? How did you beat me?” Sylvester demanded. He was so weak, he doubted he could even manifest Mela right now. Ugh. For as strong as he was, manifesting Beefton always took it out of him. “I’m so much stronger than you.”

“But you’re not stronger than the power of friendship!” Giovanni made that weird, peace-sigh and devil-horns pose again.

Molly, eyebrows creased in worry, edged toward Sylvester. “Hey. I’m sorry we had to beat you up. But you really scared us, and I was just trying to keep these kids safe.” She extended a hand to him.

He slapped it away and struggled up himself. “Likely story! I talked to the museum staff. You thieves still have the Arsene Amulet. As the higher authority, I insist you hand it over before I inform the police and – HEY!”

Flamethrower slipped out from behind Sylvester. In his hands was an adorable phone, cased with what looked like a handmade Counting Sheep. Aw. Molly had to keep herself from cooing. She and her fluffier friend were always suckers for that cute kind of stuff. It didn’t last long. Sylvester lunged for Flamethrower’s hands, but only resulted in knocking the phone away. It skidded past a stray seawater puddle and landed right against Giovanni’s sneakers.

He grinned that sharp hobgoblin smile. He plucked it off the floor and stashed it into Molly’s duffel bag, zipping it up. Then he unzipped it, pushed Giorno inside for safe-keeping, and zipped it up again. Sylvester gawked at him.

“This is theft! I demand that the Amulet and my phone be returned at once!”

“Mmmmno,” Giovanni grinned. He patted the duffel bag. “The way I see it, we have the advantage. No phone, no stamina, no Epithet! We win. Oh, and Stitches, you’re promoted.”

“Hooray,” Molly chirped meekly. She trotted toward Sylvester. He was quite a bit taller than her, which wasn’t hard, admittedly. Molly was pretty small. Small enough that Lorelai was quickly gaining on her and she was only twelve. Apparently it came from her mom’s side of the family and skipped every couple of generations. But with the way his hair flicks swooped and his eyepatch made his scalp pop, Sylvester looked more like a goliath than a twenty-year-old man. “I’m still really sorry. And I figured you would want to know that…um. We don’t have the – uh, the Arsenic Amulet?”

“Arsene,” Sylvester asserted. “And that’s a likely story. The museum staff already informed me of who cut the phone lines and took the Amulet. Again, hand it over.”

Molly looked him up and down. Yeah, there was no way she was going to fight him again. He looked exhausted, and the Baby Banzais were skittering around collecting leftover debris as makeshift weapons. Somehow Ben had gotten a whole brick and looked very willing to chuck it into Sylvester’s skull.

“No.”

Sylvester squawked.

“Look, we really don’t wanna fight. All I’m s’pposed to do is keep these kids safe and get out. And it would really mean a lot to me if you would help us. I…I just wanna get home.”

She looked to the tiled floor, noticing the puddles of seawater under her feet splattering the marble like ink blots in a therapist’s office. She scrunched up her shoulders, tucked her chin nearly into the collar of her shirt, and traced the puddle with the tip of her boot. Her hand fiddled with the baubles on her belt. This was something she learnt from Lori. And from working in customer service. A lot of parents came back with complaints after one of her dad’s toys had shoddy paintwork or an extreme price tag. In the rare case that Lori was in the room while someone yelled, she would start outright bawling until the customers felt bad enough to leave and never complain again. Only then would she laugh and call them “Suckers!” in a squeaky-toy giggle. Pity was a strong thing, Molly learned. It’s what kept them above water, most months.

Out of her sight, Sylvester’s face softened from a scrunch to a crumple. He snapped the string of his eyepatch and huffed, looking away to distract himself. The Baby Banzais all dropped their rubble in an instant. Giovanni was reared back like an alley cat in a standoff, very prepared to scratch out this guy’s other eye if he made his minion cry again.

He sighed. “Fine. It’s not like I have anywhere to be.”

Giovanni flapped his lips and scoffed. “What, you don’t have any friends?”

“No,” Sylvester replied proudly.

Raising her head, Molly offered him her best bear smile. “I’ll be your friend. You, um. You just need to promise not to try to kill Boss anymore.”

“I – I – Whatever. We should move before someone arrives and blames you all for the damage.”

As Sylvester strode out of the exhibit, water flicking on his heels, Giovanni hissed. He snapped ahead, “You started it, jerkface! Jerk babyface! Stupid babyface jerk head!” His rampant insults continued out into the Deepwood area as Molly herded the other Boys™ out.

She cast one more look over the Ocean Country. If this was her place, she’d be in tears at the amount of damage. She only hoped nobody would be too upset. The mere idea of that empathisation ached her heart. Shaking her head, stars blurring, she tailed the rest of the group out.

There was definitely a chance there was someone on their way now.

                                                            ---------------

“PERFECT! Just PERFECT!”

Smashes and clatters rang out across the backroom. Fine chinas, relics of cultures long lost, even some decently salvaged glowing tubes due to replace the oldies in the Ocean exhibit, all left to be smashed underfoot. Under Mera’s brittle, unweighted feet, to be specific. Her crutches were actually doing a lot more damage than she was.

“INDUS! Indus, wake up!” She grabbed one of her crutches by the body and hucked it at her bodyguard. It smacked him hard in the head and the gut in a one-two punch, startling him awake with a mumble. Mera didn’t even bother to talk at him again. She was already hauling through the rubble and fragments in some desperate, frantic attempt to find something to help her. “One of those brats pulled the fire alarm! And that stupid doctor and his stupid Epithet OBVIOUSLY didn’t knock them out so now the police, the mayor, hell maybe even the PRESIDENT is on the way! Months of planning is going to be out the window because of YOU!”

“I am sorry, Lady Mera,” Indus bowed. Getting to his feet, he handed her back the crutch. She promptly smacked him in the ribs, then the arm, then the clavicle. It didn’t do any damage.

“Yeah, you should be! Because of you, we’re going to get arrested! Or worse…thrown in juvie.”

They both shivered at the thought.

“We can’t afford that! I wouldn’t survive!” Mera shrieked.

“And how would I possibly protect you?! You would be all alone!” Indus fretted.

“No kidding, you dunce! Now, come on!” She hooked him on the arm and tried – weakly – to shove him toward the pile of boxes opposite to her own. It was largely unopened, mostly because she had been asking him to smash her collection open before even touching the other ones. It was Dan’s fault for keeping the backrooms in such a hodge-podge. “Open those! Otherwise I WILL ditch you and lie to President Sandbag’s face to get off the hook.”

“Yes, Lady Mera! I will not fail you again!” he saluted.

While he dug through what he opened, Mera flopped down into the jagged remnants of what she rummaged through. Ugh. Her bones hurt. Her head hurt. That dumb fire alarm had put a migraine through her brain like an invisible lawn dart and now she just wanted to go home. Honestly, it crossed her mind to call the whole thing off the moment the alarm got pulled.

To top it all off, under the clatters of Indus’s work, she could hear footsteps. Not just the familiar squeaky etches of that baseball hooligan and the clip-clop claps of that Dumb girl, but also new ones. Dress shoes, with solid heels and even pacing. Ugh. Probably another thief. She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes, then splayed out like a starfish. This was a bad idea.

And yet, the universe liked to mess with her. In the corner of her eye, Mera spied a glint in the harsh luminescent lights. Golden and shiny, running in sharp angles into tri-corner spikes. A heart topped with adorable cat ears, and little spurs sharpened to look like tufts of fur. Her eyes widened, though, at the beautiful emerald gem in the middle.

No.

No way.

She scrambled and wrapped her hands around the jewel. Smiling madly, she slammed her crutch against the tile floor, making as much as a noise as she could to get Indus’s attention. Of course, she didn’t really need to fight for it. She could have made the smallest squeak and he would dart to her side.

“Indus! Indus, this is it!”

“What is?”

“The Amulet! We found it, we found it, we found it! Finally! Pick me up, pick me up!”

He did as he was told. He hefted her off the floor by her waist and perched her on the pile of unopened boxes, trying to make sure she avoided any possible divots or dents. She drummed her fingers and giggled to herself.

“I can’t believe it!” she grinned. “It’s perfect. This is perfect. Okay, now go find the girl and bring her here so we can take her Epithet. Then we can get out without a fuss and nobody will be any the wiser!”

“An excellent plan as always, Lady Mera! I will be back shortly!”

In an instant, Indus set off with thundering footsteps. Mera smiled after him. She couldn’t remember the last time she smiled like this, especially not in front of Indus. In front of anyone, really. But gazing at her reflection in the Amulet’s jewel, she felt a pure elation filling her heart to the brim. This would all be over. She could finally live like a normal teenager, quit this stupid job, and go back home. She clutched the Amulet close to her chest.

This was going to be amazing for her.

                                              ------------------------------

“Hey, Boss?”

“Ye-es, Stitches?”

“How come you taped a knife to your bat?”

“Oh, you mean my Soul Slugger Doom Bat. Well, Stitches, it’s pretty obvious. It does more damage than either of them separately.” He chuckled as if he had told a joke. Molly smiled. “It’s math, right? Like, when you put a snake and a badger together! You get a snadger! And they’re twice as venomous as either of them apart!”

“Oh, wow,” Molly nodded. “That sounds pretty legit.”

“I know, right!” He cackled.

At the head of the group, Sylvester scoffed. He rolled his eyes and turned the corner through the Deepwood exhibit.

“It’s more like slapping two toys together and calling it a day, if you ask me,” he mumbled.

Giovanni barked at him. The Baby Banzais huffed, Spike baring her teeth like a tiny-toothed shark. One of her front teeth was missing, so it looked less legit than she likely thought it was.

“Oh, and how would you know, Mr Yo-Yo?” Giovanni smarmed.

“Doctor Yo-Yo. PhD,” Sylvester boasted.

To a fourteen-year-old boy, that was basically the same as being proud of eating your veggies. He stuck out his tongue and made various gagging noises. “Nerd! Ne-erd!”

“At least I finished school. Criminals like you will end up with no credits at all.”

“Hey!” Darkstar piped up. “Boss has the best grades between us!”

“At least in Phys Ed!” Ben chimed.

“Yeah, he hits like you wouldn’t believe!” Flamethrower enthused, making a batting motion with his hands.

Giovanni glowed. His crocodile teeth poked out from his hobgoblin grin and his strides got longer, much more confident. As if all of Sylvester’s pomp and circumstance got injected into the preteen. Having his Boys™ here to back him up in front of his new minion was way better than being made a bad example in front of Molly. In his mind, she needed all the bad influence she could get! What kind of teenager, nearly grown-up, was she, all timid and bashful? A bad one, that’s what!

“That does raise the question,” Sylvester interrupted. He led them through an archway, out of the Deepwood and into the Taiga. Closer to the backrooms, and nearby where the Baby Banzais had dumped all their sleepaway stuff. Their sleeping bags can been disturbed, but nothing taken. Someone else was roaming around. Sylvester ignored this. “what exactly is the plan when we confront those two? I mean, I’m rather strong, but you’re all just kids. Spare one.”

Molly smiled appreciatively. She hated when people called her a kid.

“Uh, duh! We beat her up!” Giovanni stated, as if this was the most obvious thing since the sky being blue. “We beat you up, we can definitely take her and the big guy down!”

“Only because you had her help.” Sylvester levelled his eye at Molly. She suddenly felt like she was being scrutinized. “Why are you helping these wannabes, anyway?”

“My choices have led me to no other possibility,” she shrugged.

Giovanni cooed excitedly, stamping his feet. “Ooooh, yeah! That’s perfect tragic backstory material! Take me, for example! My whole family is, uh, ghosts! Dead ghosts! Hah! Feel sorry for me now?”

The Baby Banzais all nodded in unison. Sylvester rolled his eyes.

“Humiliated, more likely.”

“Oh, I wish my mom was a dead ghost. All we got was dead.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the rest of the group. Molly chuckled half-heartedly. She made this joke often enough with Lorelai. And Lori used the ‘dead mom’ excuse to get out of tests and homework, even on Molly. Sometimes they would undo Molly’s hair, Lori would Augment it to be more like their mom’s, and Molly would pretend to be the matriarch of the house. Lori would clap and laugh, especially the first few months after the fire. It made her feel better. Of course, it made Molly feel uncomfortable, like wearing clothes too big or makeup not hers. But it was fine. It made Lori smile.

Sylvester wasn’t smiling, though. His mouth worked itself into a weird squiggle and his eyebrow scrunched against the top of his visible eye. Rummaging in his pocket, he walked slowly next to Molly and passed her a small card. The words ‘Dr. Sylvester Ashling, Epithet and Psychology Therapist’ shone in dreamy yellow against a cloudy backdrop. Bull’s horns decorated either end of his name. Molly resisted the urge to coo. It was, frankly, adorable.

“Here,” he offered. Smaller, meeker than his confidence stand-offish tone with Giovanni. “If you call the number on the back, it’ll take you to my office. Sounds like you could use a session or two.”

“Oh. Oh, no, I’m fine. Thank you, though.” Molly didn’t mention that she definitely couldn’t afford a therapist. Not even their savings could cover a single session.

“First session’s always free. And sometimes several others,” he insisted.

Despite her reluctance, Molly tucked the card into her hoodie’s pocket. From the same pocket, she withdrew another business card. This one was decorated with bunnies and bearcubs, all dancing in rings or playing assorted instruments.

“Then you can have mine. It’s for our toy store. I’m always behind the desk, so I’ll probably pick up.”

Sylvester took it without a second thought and stashed it into his lab coat. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “So, do we have a plan of action?” Giovanni’s hand shot up. “Outside of walking up and caving someone’s head in.”

Giovanni lowered his hand. He stuck out his tongue at Sylvester with a distinctive neener-neener scrunch. Sylvester sneered back at him with equal distaste.

Taking the front of the group, Molly trotted along, the Blasters forming a daisy chain attached to her hoodie. Spike was at the front, grip viced around the fluff of the hood. Molly peeked around a corner. It was decorated in glass containers. Skeletons were poised in various motions, from biting and scratching to cowering in fear. A giant anteater skeleton in the corner had been painted up with oranges and yellows to make it glow under the artificial lighting. At least she hoped that was paint. When it came to Desert Country artefacts, nobody knew what was really natural and what was a result of overgrowth from the geodes. Regardless, she hustled the Blasters along the hallway.

She directed Spike behind one of the containers. It was taller enough that if the girl sat down criss-cross-applesauce, it was impossible to see her.

“Stay here, okay? I promise I’ll come get you,” Molly reassured.

Spike looked past Molly to Giovanni and the other Boys™. Giovanni gave her a big thumbs up and a crocodile grin. Satisfied, Spike nodded, a determined spark in her eyes. “’Kay!”

“And, um…everyone else, find a hiding spot too. Make sure it hides you as much as Spike is hidden. We don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sylvester mumbled. Giovanni kicked him in the shin.

“Giovanni, don’t hit. Mr Ashling, don’t make fun. I’m s’posed to be keeping calm. And you’re not making it easy,” Molly attempted. Jeez, she was not good at being assertive. She needed to work on that.

It seemed to work though. If there was anything Molly had going for her, it was getting people to pity her enough to be nice. Sylvester huffed acquiescently and crossed his arms. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” she hummed sweetly.

The Blasters had all scattered in the time that it took for her to – weakly – reprimand either of her companions. Upon investigation, aside from Spike and Car Crash, each of them had paired up to hide. Like Spike, Car Crash had hidden behind one of the glass containers, one with a lot of fish-like skeletons that bobbed mid-air on strings. Crusher and Ben were nearer to the anteater. The way the light hit the geode formations of the skeleton hid very small and very red-headed Ben easily, and Crusher had hauled a nearby trash can a little closer to crouch behind. The platform was tall enough that it shadowed him, too. Good cover, if Molly was to say so! Dark Star and Flamethrower, who seemed practically joined at the hip, made use of the wreckage Indus had evidently left racing around trying to find everyone. Rugs with patterns and prisms with inky centres had been knocked off their pedestals and wall fixtures, and it didn’t take much shuffling for the boys to bury themselves in a giant pile of jumbled-up history.

All in all, good work. Great, even! Kids were great at hide-and-seek, and judging by the fact that the Baby Banzais had stayed past curfew in a museum of all places, they were exceptional at it.

“Okay. Kids are hidden. Except…Boss.” She wilted.

Giovanni puffed out his chest like the world’s proudest parakeet. “HA! Like I need to hide! I can be loads of help. Plus, as your leader, I ORDER you to let me help beat up that lady. I wanna get another shot at her.” He ground his fist into his palm.

Molly shrugged at Sylvester’s Are you serious? look. “Can’t argue with the boss.”

“Unbelievable,” Sylvester sighed. He continued down the hallway.

“Great! Since we’re all a team, we need to know our Epithets for a battle strategy! YOU! Babyface!”

“Don’t call me that, you twerp.”

“What’s your Epithet?”

Sylvester scoffed. His labcoat fluttered with his flippancy, orange dust flicking into Giovanni’s face. He blew it away, scrubbing his face and spitting like he’d just drank a candle. “As if I would ever tell you! Giving away your Inscription is a tactical disadvantage. Nobody would ever be stupid enough to go around, announcing their Epithet.”

“Greetings, Doctor Man! Bear Warrior! Soup Child!”

Molly bit back a giggle. Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

Indus came bounding around the corner. A wide smile shone on his face, matching the sunshine tattoos printed on his visible skin. His hands were waving in the air frantically and his feet pounded against the marble tile with a speed that could not possible match his mass. But really, it wasn’t like Molly could really say. She had only been chased by very light and very fast people before, from her little sister to her spookier friend. Indus was really the first person with muscle mass she had ever met and subsequently seen run. He was very cheerful about the whole you-escaped-my-clutches thing, all things considered, seeing as he was still smiling as he skidded to a halt in front of the trio.

“Oh! H-Hi, Indus,” Molly stammered.

Tiny sneakers squeaked on the floor, and Giovanni was suddenly right in front of her, Soul Slugger Doom Bat held out as though it was going to do real damage and not collapse at any given moment. Molly’s heart pattered in her ears. No, no way was she letting him defend her. She laid a careful hand on his shoulder and tried to pull him back behind her and Sylvester but he was very firm in his stance.

“Greetings again, Bear Warrior! It is I, Indus, the owner of the BARRIER Epithet!” he boomed. “I have come to ask you to come with me to Lady Mera! And also to prevent the small thief from interfering. Much like a BARRIER! Which is my Epithet. Barrier.”

A deadpan, almost ludicrously disbelieving expression swallowed Sylvester’s aura of pomp and circumstance. His pupil shrank in astonishment. Truly, he was completely stunned. Paralysed, if you will, at the sheer audacity of the universe to send a personal middle finger to ruin his mood further.

“…Excuse me?” he managed in the most emotionally dead voice ever known.

“Please, Miss Bear, come with me.” Indus extended a hand to Molly, who squeaked. “My Lady has found her treasure and wishes to discuss it with you.”

“UH, NO WAY!” Giovanni snapped. He gnashed his teeth at Indus’s hand. The older boy didn’t flinch in the slightest.

“Boss, it’s okay.”

This time, Molly could steer Giovanni behind her easily. She scooped him under the armpits and placed him next to Sylvester, patting him on the head before trotting forward to face Indus directly. She fiddled her boots against each other. Despite the overwhelming jittering of her hands and the rapid beating of her heart, she forced herself to make eye contact with him. His smiling face was almost worse than the scowls she usually garnered. Oh, jeez.

“Um. In – Indus? Your…Lady said she wanted to take my Epithet, right? Does that mean the, uh, the Amulet actually works?” she stuttered.

“That’s what we’d like to know! Come along!” He held out both hands now. Molly’s own bunched in her skirt, wringing the fabric between her fingers and palms.

Sylvester took Indus up and down. His eye narrowed. Ruffling Giovanni’s hair, he shoved the small boy backward to put distance in place and marched forward to stand behind Molly.

From what he could tell, this Inscribed was very foolish. To the nth degree, it appeared. Of course, in Sylvester’s field, there was always the possibility for the whole thing to be a façade, to lure opponents into a false sense of security to eventually spring a sudden intelligence on a victim. Of course! There was no way somebody with an Epithet could be so idiotic naturally! It was all a ruse! He was trying to lure Molly, Giovanni and Sylvester into a false sense of security. Thankfully, Sylvester hadn’t been secure in his life and wasn’t about to start now! He can effectively knock Indus down with simple reverse psychology, and so long as it didn’t rebound on him, there was chance of it failing. This game of Logic Chess™ had already swayed in Sylvester’s favour, never to be unravelled!

In reality, Sylvester had been standing behind Molly, a tight hand on her shoulder and a twitching eye staring daggers at Indus, for about sixty seconds. Without blinking. Or maybe winking in his case, because eyepatch. Molly snapped him out of it.

She rapped a knocking fist against his temple. He jolted, hand flying off her shoulder and eye rapidly blinking as he flipped around like a propellor in a blizzard.

“Ah! Sheep, sheeping, beef…what?”

“I think you zoned out a bit there,” Molly whispered.

“Ah, of course! Would you like to pass first, Doctor Sleep? I am sure Lady Mera would allow you to see the treasure before Miss Bear and she talk!” Indus beamed.

Sylvester glanced to Molly. She nodded in the smallest gesture. Then she tilted her head toward the doorway into the backrooms for the briefest moment. Oh. Oh, okay. He steeled his expression, righted his coat, and paced away from the remaining pair. “Thank you, Indus.”

“Thank you as well! My Epithet is Barrier!” Indus called even as Sylvester was disguised by the shadows. He turned back to Molly. His hands were still extended in a cupping motion, clearly expecting her to lay her hand over his so there was no chance of her getting away. “Have you made your decision?”

“Um! I…I!” Molly glanced around desperately.

There was zero chance she could even survive at home without her Epithet. Lori would be completely out of control. Her dad’s insane and frankly insulting ramblings would drive her crazy. She would be swallowed in her entirety by the chatter of the world, the droning white noise life bought with it that never seemed to dull, no matter how much she tried and tried, curling into balls and guarding herself. And yet, some small piece of her was eager to be rid of it. To leave Dumb for someone else. Maybe then she wouldn’t be blamed so often. She would be forced to adjust. The overwhelmed majority of her being grabbed that part by the shoulders, shook it back and forth and screamed for it to reconsider. But that part was getting dimmer, and its screams were drowned out by the smaller’s wish.

She swallowed. Hands trembling like continental plates, she wavered over Indus’s cupped hands.

“Okay…”

“NO!” A barking voice cut through her thoughts.

Flying out from behind her, Giovanni shot toward Indus and snapped at his hands with his mouth, swinging his bat with ferocity. The knife flew off, but that didn’t matter to Giovanni. He smacked it against Indus’s arms with one hand and pushed Molly away with the other. Molly balked at him.

“She’s not going anywhere with you!” Giovanni shouted. He balanced his bat against his shoulder. “I don’t care who you are! I don’t care how strong you are! Stitches is MY minion, and I’m gonna protect her no matter what! You want her? You gots’ta get through ME first!”

“Astounding! She is your minion, and yet you are the one protecting her. It is almost as if you are protecting…each other!” Indus cheered, eyes sparkling with joyful and admiring tears. “Then allow me to do this the honourable way! Martial combat!”

“HA! Bring it on, BRO! I’ve got twelve whole hits stored up and the second I hit you, it’s gonna be – woah, WAIT, WAIT!”

Too late. Much, much too late. Giovanni was picked up by his scalp. It was not hard. Indus could palm his head with only one hand, and he did. He easily tore Giovanni’s bat out of his grabby hands and tossed it away down the hallway. Then he bowled Giovanni down the hallway after it, sending the poor boy tumbling head over heels until he crashed into a standing pillar – one of the few with an artefact still on it. A large vase slammed onto his head, eliciting a grunt and then nothing but silence.

Molly stared on in paralysed shock. From the moment Giovanni pushed her back, she was frozen. Even more so now that someone was hurt. Because of her. Her and her Epithet. Her and her stupid, dumb, pitiful personality that people feel bad for her sometimes. Her button eyes wavered, tears clumping at the corners. They were small and weak, but Molly couldn’t manage much else. They pricked at her eyes and stung her freckles. Knees suddenly null and void, she crumpled to the floor like a tower of cards behind an open door, still staring at where Giovanni tried to catch his breath, timidly clutching his head and stomach in tandem.

Finally, she managed to speak. A whisper of a voice ghosted from her lips.

“Indus…?”

“Yes?”

“Why…why does she want it…?”

“I am afraid I do not understand. Could you please be more specific?”

“My…My Epithet…why mine…?”

“For her own Epithet, of course!”

Molly froze all over again. What?

“What?” she whispered.

“Lady Mera’s Epithet is terribly strong. And it comes with a lofty price. A terrible curse.”

Beyond the walls of glass containers and giant skeletons, a small teenage girl perched herself atop the mountain of boxes. It made her look much taller. Good. Her mouth twisted into a wicked, snarling smile. She wanted to be taller. More intimidating. Even if her self-cut hair and shattered bones worked against her to the nth degree. She was finally going to be as powerful as she wanted to be.

Especially as Sylvester Ashling, PhD, sent a herd of Counting Sheep to clear the wreckage around the room. He waded through the ocean of orange fluff with ease. A dark cast shadowed his visible eye. Pure rage and determination pulsed off the sheep and the man who wielded them. There was no chance of him backing down now, not against someone who had lied and wronged as Mera had.

She smiled.

Good.

“Good,” she hummed. Giant shards of crinkling glass pierced through the ground. Their cracks and splinters sounded off in chorus with her snapping cartilage. She was used to it, after all. This was just a part of the process, at least for now. She had been like this since she was little, and there was no chance of her missing her escape route.

She wouldn’t be overwhelmed by Fragile anymore.