Chapter Text
California Slim hates his job. Don't get him wrong, Bliss Ocean is perfect for him. Ending Epithets, precisely what he wants. But on days like this, it sucks. Earlier Xerxes asked (read: strong-armed) Slim into taking care of his little sister and her friends. Apparently, no one else was available, but he isn't buying that. Slim thinks Xerxes is just messing with him. Everyone at Bliss Ocean knows that Slim is the last person you should ever trust with children, besides Zora. He's cold, harsh, and just all around not good with kids. Also, he's an actual murderer. People keep forgetting that. But for some reason, Xerxes thought it would be hilarious if the Epithet Killer babysat a group of 11-year-olds. Very funny. So now here he is. In front of a schoolyard waiting for a small bright strawberry-haired child, and if he messes this up, Xerxes is sure to kill him. Just as he's getting impatient, and ready to leave, the small thing shows up. Two other children flank her. One is tall with long blonde hair, and the other is of average 11-year-old height, with a brown afro covered in stars. Just about what he was expecting. He walks up to the children, with Alcatraz at his side. The other students give the duo a wide berth. The pink one, the one he recognizes as Trixie, is nonplussed by him. Blondie is clearly uncomfortable, and the star kid has a brief moment of trepidation, then an easy practiced smile.
"Hey kids, I'm here to pick you up." Trixie simply narrows her eyes.
"What’s the code word?" It's a normal occurrence for random coworkers or friends of her siblings to pick her up. In order to ensure the right person picks them up, there's a safe word. And for some dumb reason, that safe word is Bitch Ass. Slim narrows his eyes back at her and states in complete monotone. "Bitch ass." Despite the number of times this has happened, Feenie lets out a gasp. She is very against this code word business. Trixie says it's smart for it to be a swear because no one would swear to a child, but Feenie continues to complain every time. Trixie is satisfied, and gestures an ‘all clear’ to the others. As soon as Feenie sees the man is safe, she introduces herself to both the man and the odd suit of armor.
“Hello! I am Phoenica Fleecity the fifteenth! Who are you two?” Al quickly jumps forward, very excited to meet this kid.
“I’m Alcatraz! And this is my best friend Slim!” The man in question stares daggers at the other.
“I’m California Slim. This thing is my epithet.”
“Oooohhhh. Yeah, I do know you. You’re that epithet killer Dixon was talking about. Nice to meet ya.” Trixie nods in recognition. Dixon likes to tell Trixie all about various true crime cases, and that alongside her family's chosen professions, she knows all about the local criminals.
“Trixie dear, we need to have a talk about your family's ability to judge character. This is the fifth time this month they sent a wanted criminal to pick us up.”
“I don’t see the issue.”
“You never do.”
“Things have yet to go wrong! That means they’re right about who to send. My siblings are fine at judging character.”
“Last time we got picked up by the most wanted criminal in Sweet Jazz. And she was a cowboy.”
“And nothing bad happened!”
The two continue on in this manner for a bit. Slim can’t help but let out a small laugh. It’s refreshing to just see kids banter with each other. It almost reminds him of Beverly. Almost.
As the odd group is walking back to the car, Slim realizes he never got the third one’s name. She seems to be somewhat weary of him, which is understandable. When her friend mentioned his moniker as ‘The Epithet Killer’ he noticed a familiar flash of fear in her eyes. The same fear he sees in his victims’ eyes. She probably has an Epithet then. After a moment of contemplation, he asks for her name.
“Um. I’m Molly.” Her speech is stilted and to the point, clearly trying to hide her discomfort. That doesn’t work too well. The five of them settle into the car. The trio is all in the back, with Slim in the driver’s seat and Al as shotgun. At first, Al was just going to float outside, but the sheep girl said that that wasn't fair! He should get to sit in the car just like them! Slim doesn't like this kid.
After a moment the trio begins conversing. A few minutes in, they land on the topic of family gatherings. They each tell stories of past outings. Trixie is halfway through the story of when she got lost during hide and seek when Slim notices something. Phoenica and Molly are only telling stories within the last year. On top of that, Trixie seems to be carrying the conversation. It doesn’t take a genius to realize something is going on in the kids’ family lives. But that’s none of his business. He’s just here so they don’t die. Still, a part of him can’t stop thinking about that. It sounds like the two girls lost their mothers around the age of 10. Slim cannot stand that idea. He knows what loss feels like at a young age, he was 17 when Beverly died. And these kids are so much younger than that. It takes a moment to identify, as he hasn’t felt this in so long, but Slim feels protective over these children. Even Trixie in a way, has such deep weight on her, like an aura of haunting chill surrounds her. What happened to these poor kids? Slim can’t help but notice all of the small quirks to them. How Molly has such deep seeded eye bags. How Phoenica stands rod still with perfect posture. How Trixie kept looking over her shoulder as they walked. The murderer cannot avoid the worry that sprouts in him at the thought of what caused this.
God Slim get it together, they’re just some random kids your coworker threatened you into babysitting, they don’t matter.
But god, they do.