Chapter 3: Speck, the Scoundrel of Wasteland
Be warned that this fanfic contains Marscott (Prescott x Markus) and Turbo (who is now known as Gremlin Speedo in here) from the movie “Wreck-It Ralph” as a little crossover thing to add. If you don’t like, please do not read any further.
This story takes place AFTER Epic Mickey 2 and during off-screen times.
~Gremlin Prescott’s POV
“That’s strange, what’s a Spatter doing with paint?” Markus asked as he tilted his head, continuing to watch the sight of the rabbit chasing the creature. (That sounded ridiculous…) “Err, wait, no…is paint coming out of its tail? It has a tail? Huh?”
“So many questions with this one,” I sighed, shaking my head. I stood beside the curious gremlin and placed my arm around his shoulder. He watched as the cowering Spatter jumped from roof to roof in hopes to escape from the rabbit’s range of sight and attack. I smiled to that and laughed it off. “But I suppose it won’t be much of a bother to us. So for now, let’s just—”
Both our bodies tensed up as a sudden electrical wave hit us both out of nowhere. We noticed that Oswald happened to be a few feet away from us in mere seconds, holding onto his mediocre remote and pointing it directly at us. Whether it was on purpose or not, nobody would take enjoyment of this kind of sudden pain.
“You imbecile! What was that for!?” I exclaimed, straightening my suit, as well as my body from the shock.
“Sorry ‘bout that, fellas,” the rabbit harrumphed at us while swishing his ears back, keeping his eyes narrow. “I DID warn ya to move it, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t give us much time to do it, sir,” Markus stated firmly but carefully as he stepped toward the rabbit, as if with an apology in hand. I crossed my arms and scoffed at it, looking away to my right.
“Ight, ight, I screwed up, but the Spatter was right behind ya guys!” the rabbit pointed out. Markus and I turned our heads, seeing that there was a puddle of mixed paint and thinner onto the table. According to the rest of the new trail, the Spatter headed down underground. “Well, next time any of ya guys see that thing, make sure to take care of it. Got it?”
“Huh...that shouldn’t be a problem,” I nodded and gave a smirk to the rabbit’s orders.
“Yes, sir,” Markus replied and saluted. With that, Oswald nodded it off and marched away. Markus turned to me, and the look of his eyes gave away a hint of confusion. “But how are we supposed to take care of it? Spatters can’t get befriended or destroyed unless we had paint or thinner. What makes matters worse, this Spatter seems as though it possesses BOTH of them at will. If we don’t do something, it could probably destroy us, or even Wasteland itself!”
“Nonsense, Markus,” I disagreed, giving him a couple of light pats onto his shoulder. “It’s only a Spatter. Even with such powers, it’s not able to comprehend them; thus, making it weaker than the rest of us.”
“Yeah, but it still has the brain to abuse them,” Markus murmured as he looked down disappointedly, narrowing his eyebrows. “The question is: where and how did it get that ability?” I knew the answer to that entirely. The Spatter, as obviously interpreted, was no ordinary Spatter. I knew its identity, I knew who it was, and I knew exactly why it had a unique ability apart from its current species. In its original codes, the Spatter’s former self possessed a weapon we called the Paintbrush, a magical tool that was capable of creating and destroying the very existence of toon material itself. As a result, both the magic and the Brush’s master were infused together during the transformation I’ve ecstatically given to them.
Wasteland’s hero now being a scoundrel, I had no intention of telling Markus who it really was and where it got its power. I know I’ve mentioned that I’d dare shout his name if I had to answer one’s question, but as of this time, I didn’t need to say anything; I didn’t need to tell the origin of its specialty; I didn’t have to mention that the Spatter was in fact Mickey Mouse.
It was late at night, nine to be exact, and Markus and I made it back to Gremlin Village, finally finished with work for the day. We took a couple of good stretches before we entered in our separate houses.
“What a rough day it’s been, huh?” Markus yawned as he leaned onto the door to his own house. I gave a little nod to his question. He quickly frowned with worry and turned away. “…you don’t suppose that Spatter will come around here while we’re all asleep, do you?”
“Relax, Markus,” I spoke softly. He gave no effort of turning right back to face me, but I didn’t mind. I lightly wrapped my arms around his waist and placed my chin onto his shoulder. “If you want, I’ll stay with you for the night.”
“Nah, it’s okay,” Markus insisted while giving me a warm smile. “I don’t want you to work too hard on anything else; you deserve a good night’s sleep.” Though I didn’t agree too much on leaving Markus on his own with that Spatter roaming around, I smiled at his kind words. I placed my lips softly onto his cheek, delivering a small kiss. He immediately kissed me back on my nose, doing so while blushing. “Good night, Prescott.”
“Good night, Markus…”
With that, he opened his door and entered his house without taking his eyes off me. As was I, I couldn’t stop looking at his joyous eyes and…ehh, adorable smile. Looking at him alone would constantly make my non-existent heart race; aside from my new position in being Gus’s right hand man, he was probably the only one that could let that happen to me. I let out a delighted but sad sigh after hearing and seeing the door close in front of me.
For a moment, there was silence. Then after a while of looking at Markus’s home in a trance, I heard a familiar sound of someone appearing behind me; a fellow gremlin. I turned around, seeing that it was Gus alongside with Speedo, who looked like a complete wreck! Several of chattering teeth toys have locked themselves onto him; his clothes were somewhat ripped in some areas, as if he’d been savagely clawed by different creatures; oh, and his face! The look of pure terror said it all—he had been nearly decimated by the bunny children. At the moment, I wanted to question and laugh about it, but with Gus in our presence, I decided to keep steady in order to maintain my profession.
“Prescott,” Gus began as he held onto Speedo’s shoulder, in gesture of pointing out his presence to me, “who is this lad?”
“Oh, him?” I acknowledged. “His name’s Speedo: he’s the new worker of the Gag Factory, and also new to our clan.”
“And yet you've appointted him to a position in which he has no experience to? Shame on you, Prescott,” he shook his head. I felt my heart drop after hearing those words. Those were the last words I ever wanted to hear from him, especially being now who I’ve so longed to be for the past few years!
“Well, SURE he has no experience,” I tried to save myself, keeping my eyes stern with the situation, “but I’ve known him for quite a while, and I honestly thought the place was well-suited for his personality! And to add to that, Gus, I was certain that he was…capable of being on his own there.”
“If you’ve known him, then how come you’ve never told any of us about him?” Gus asked as he raised an eyebrow at me. I tried to speak, but Speedo interrupted and crossed his arms ever so pompously, “Becauth he wath afraid that I’d turn out to be wortht than himthelf.”
“Ah, so you were doubting on him?”
“No! That’s not what it is, Gus!”
“Well, whatever the reason, Prescott,” Gus began as he patted Speedo lightly on the shoulder. My reflexes couldn’t help but make my left eye give a little twitch to the sight, “you’re going to have to train this one thoroughly on how to work things out at the Gag Factory.”
“Yeah, Thcotty!” Speedo mocked as he grinned wide enough for me to see his golden teeth, something I haven’t seen for a while, and something I didn’t mean nor wanted to see.
“Take it easy on him, lad,” Gus told Speedo, giving him a firm look. He lecturing Speedo on treating me equally brightened me up a bit, but I still wasn’t well enough to forgive and forget about the words Gus had said to me a few moments ago. After that, he turned to face me, walked towards me, and placed his hand onto my shoulder. “Prescott, all I’m trying to say is that…you have to slow down sometimes. I know you’re better than that.” I didn’t smile to that, but those words and pats he gave to me slowly washed away the gloomy thoughts. At that point, I suppose I could say that I already forgave Gus. Of course, though, I showed no sign of it. “Now, go get some sleep, both of you, you’ll need it for the morning.”
“Uh, hey, wait,” Speedo interrupted as he raised his arm up, “where do I get to thtay?”
“Huh? Oh, uh, let’s see,” Gus began thinking as he rubbed his own chin. “Well, as for now, you can stay over at his house.” To the worst of my nightmares, Gus pointed his thumb directly towards—no, not Markus’s door, not a house beside any of us, not any invisible sort of creature, but none other than the only other gremlin body that had to be coincidentally present.
“WHAT!?!” was all Speedo and I had to shout out in order to show that it was completely evident that we were thinking the exact same thing, and neither of us was happy with what could now be the inevitable for the both of us. It was outrageous, I could barely look at the pale gremlin, it was just completely out of my hands to have someone else like this one stay at my place.
“What's the trouble?” Gus asked as he tilted his head.
“Gus, you don’t understand, you can’t let this THING stay in my house!”
“Yeah, Gremlin Leader! You can’t let me thtay at HITH plathe!”
“There’s got to be another way!”
Speedo and I constantly begged and argued to Gus to a point where it seemed as though he couldn’t contain the nonsense any longer. He wasn’t one to normally get angry, but I could tell from the way he rubbed his fingers against his forehead that he wanted to snap at us. Despite that, neither of us kept quiet.
“Look, Prescott, it’s only for a while,” Gus assured as the both of us finally settled down to unwillingly listen, “he’ll need someone to guide him through our ways here in Wasteland and Gremlin Village. And giving that you two know each other, you’re the only one capable of looking out for him.”
“Gus, I am not going to be his babysitter—”
“I’m counting on you with this, Prescott!” I stood completely still, but at the same time, I felt myself shaking with pure aggravation. Being at the position I was in, though, I had no choice but to continue letting him speak. “When the lad finally does accustom himself to our ways, then we’ll build him a house of his own. Until then, he’ll need your guidance.” Speedo and I slowly turned our heads towards each other and glared at each other repulsively. Without further ado, I finally gave in, sighed loudly and nodded to Gus. Because I didn't look, I had no idea whether Speedo gave any evident agreement towards Gus or not. Whatever the circumstances, we were now both stuck with each other.
“Very good, Prescott. Now off you go.” Speaking out his final words, he finally teleported away, leaving both Speedo and I alone. Not thinking any further, I led him to my house. Though he was right behind me, I could tell that he kept staring at me through squinted, angry eyes the whole time he followed along.
“Thith ith all your fault, Thcotty,” Speedo murmured as he adjusted some blankets onto the couch I offered for him to use for sleeping. “If it hadn’t been for you leaving me tho thoon, thothe thtupid bunnieth would’ve never attacked me!”
“Say, that reminds me, Speedo,” I began to comeback, rubbing my own chin in assurance, “if I hadn’t turned you into a gremlin, then you’d still be living in the pile of trash out in the Floatyard without anybody else’s care of socializing with you. Oh, and you’d probably be hopeless of finding a purpose in this wasteland; and without a purpose, you’d drive yourself mad; and when you drive yourself mad, you’ll lead yourself into a darker realm of despair and loneliness, all while you could be staying at a place where you can have food, warmth, and someone to share your thoughts with. Yes, Speedo, it’s all my fault for all the terrible things that are happening to you.”
“HA! Fathe it, Thcotty, you know you don’t like having to give me your hothpitality,” Speedo grinned as he leaned his head back against his arms and laid his feet across the couch. “Now that I think about it, my being here would only make YOU thuffer, and yet you remind me that I should be grateful? Pfft, why? That jutht doethn't thound like you...”
“…yes, Speedo, I’ll admit, I despise having you here in my home,” I growled, but then gave a sigh and calmed myself, “but I still have yet to thank you…”
“Hoohoo, wow! Theriouthly!?” Speedo laughed as he leaned forward, as if wanting to hear more of what I had to say. “Ith that thtill what it ith with you!?!”
“…I have yet to truly believe that,” I admitted, leaning on the wall and crossing my arms. “For now, I’ll have to think of this whole ‘hospitality’ act as my gratitude to you, so that way I don’t let down Gus’s expectations and lose my sanity…”
“Ooh, hoo, hoo, thith ith gonna be fun,” he smirked and laid down onto the couch, getting ready to slumber. “Well, then Thcotty, we’ll jutht have to thee how long you can continue on like thith until you reach the end of the finish line…”
“...what is that supposed to mean?”
“It meanth, good luck with maintaining your thanity…” Speedo replied his last words for the night and went off to sleep. I rolled my eyes and shook my head to his supposed “advice”. I headed to my room, hoping that the whole training event for tomorrow morning would turn out better than I putted it out to be. Other than the Gag Factory thoughts, I couldn’t help but continue thinking what Mickey was scheming upon us. No, he wasn’t the mouse that Wasteland intended to rely on, he was now a Spatter, and therefore, didn’t deserve any title.
Being as to how puny he was in the mind, and to how often he’d—evidently—make a mess of things, he was nothing but a speck of filth. I know I’ve mentioned that he wasn’t suited to have a title any longer, but if he had to have a memorable name (shoot me now, I can’t believe I’ve said that…) for others to recognize his useless and unnecessary deeds, then perhaps a suitable name for him would be nothing more than what he truly is—a Speck.
My home was in the MickeyJunk Mountain, right next to the Fantasia picture. I heard that there was a home for Spatters somewhere in Blot Alley, but I didn’t bother much about it. Sure, there’d probably be Spatters I could wonder around with, but somehow, I felt that that place wasn’t suitable for me. So, I stayed in the lonely mountain where no one else could talk to me, nor hurt me. I felt sad being this isolated (I didn’t even give myself a name), but at the same time, I felt happy.
What kept me to the peak of my happiness were all the images of the famous cartoon character, Mickey Mouse, scattered around and always putting up a smile no matter who visited this place. He made me feel accompanied, made me feel welcomed, even. Everyone’s heard good things about this character, and so did I. He was a well-known toon for being a kind and outgoing guy who’d cause some mischievous deeds from time to time, but in the end, he’d fix them anyway.
Why am I talking with this whole sentimental tone? Well, uh, one thing's for sure—I wanted to be just like him. The problem was, though, I had no voice to tell that to anyone. Every time I'd speak, the only sound that would come out would be a bunch of gurgling. I had no capability of telling anybody that all I wanted to do was help out around Wasteland, repair the damages the quakes has caused. What I DID have, though, was a tail that acted like that of a paintbrush. I was able to spew paint and thinner from my tail, but what got in the way was my incapability of controlling it. Instead of fixing anything, they’d do nothing but cause a colorful mess. To make matters worst, wherever I’d go, my tail would always leave a trail of both paint and thinner, causing an annoyance for both me and any witnesses.
Other than that, though, I knew that my tail was with me for good reasons; I knew I was here for good intentions. I knew so, because…well, look at me! I was capable of being friendly without the help of the caretaker of Blot Alley, I was capable of giving a good smile to people without any thoughts of hatred, and I was capable of being docile. Compared to every other Spatter, I was unique, and I was proud of myself for it. There had to be a good reason why I was like this, there had to be a good reason why I was brought here, and I knew being isolated wasn’t my destiny. Hotdog! I’ll just continue pressing forth and prove that I wasn’t a scoundrel, and I wanted to show everybody that I can be just as memorable as the great and heroic Mickey Mouse!