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Chapter 8: Second Day, Second Place
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.
Enjoy.
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~Gremlin Speedo’s POV
“Where am I!?”
“What the--!? Who are you???”
“A picthie? A junkyard? …theriouthly? …did they theriouthly banish me into thome thrown away fantathy game or thomething???”
“You didn’t answer my question, intruder! Who ARE you!?! And I am no pixie, I am a gremlin!”
“How could you not know who I am, Gremlin? I'm Turbo, the greatetht rather ever!”
“…I’ve never heard of you…”
---
DING, DING, DING!
“…huh? What?” I was awakened by the sound of a ringing from a…what did they call those? Bells? Triangles? Hoo, hoo—whatever it was named, at least it was better than the sound of yesterday’s wake up call from Scotty snapping his fingers in front of my face. From what I can gather from my strength, it felt as though it was early morning, about six if I’m correct. Other than the sun’s early lights greeting my eyes and the ringings speaking to my ears, a delicious, salty scent pervaded the whole room.
My eyes adjusted fully to the brightness, and I noticed that the ringing came from a fellow gremlin holding onto a triangle. From what I could see, it was that Markus one.
“Good morning, Speedo!” he greeted me as he stopped hitting the triangle and set it down on one of the couch’s arms. I felt brightened by this, but something felt a little off, like something was missing. The room was just too happy, too bright to be true, OH! I see now! The one thing missing in this room, the one thing that lived in this house wasn’t present to send bitterness across the room to add some spice to this joyous moment—ha, ha! I turned my head, looking for the figure of that bitter character, but couldn’t seem to find him anywhere.
“Hey, where’th Thcotty?” I asked as I sat up and rubbed my eyes to help wake myself up properly.
“Oh, he’ll be back in a few, so I decided to make you guys some breakfast before he returned,” Markus answered and fluttered closely to me. He raised his hand up near the side of his lip, as if speaking to me further in secret. I leaned in to listen carefully. “Trust me, if he were the one to start the stove, he’d go on fire! And I REALLY mean on fire!”
“I heard that,” we heard a voice chuckle as the body of the other gremlin entered through the front door. When we caught sight of the bitter gremlin’s smirk, Markus and I laughed softly from both it and what Markus had just mentioned.
“Ha, ha! Bad timing there, Thcotty!” I laughed and playfully pointed at him.
“Oh, really? Huh, I thought I was on fire,” he grinned at us as he fluttered to the kitchen table and took a seat there.
“Very funny, Prescott!” Markus lightly cheered and took a seat next to Scotty. As I fully stood up, I didn’t mean to hear it, but I heard Markus say to himself, “But, that is sort of true…” Okay, okay, okay, now I’m not one to judge or question characters by the way their programmers had designed them, but—ha, ha!—all gremlins looked exactly the same! How could one out of everybody else be “on fire”? Ah, who am I to know? I don’t know how this whole “romantic thing” goes, so I guess one can only find out when they’re really in that sorta thing. Hoo, hoo! But still…
“Speedo, do you want to starve over there?” Prescott called out to me.
“Of courthe not!” I replied and fluttered to the spot with the only other plate left as quick as I could. “What do you think I am, Thcotty? Ha, ha! Thuithidal?”
“If you want to be…”
So the room began to be filled with nothing but silence and the metallic sounds of forks and knives clanking onto the glass plates. I looked down onto mine, taking a good few moments of gathering what the food was. For the past fifteen years I’ve been king back in the Sugar Rush world, I was always fed with sweet foods during breakfast hours (what am I saying? Hoo, hoo! All the time!), such as things like French toast and pancakes with cinnamon syrup.
This stuff, however, looked and smelled entirely different to me. There were golden, shredded pixel things that appeared to be slightly burnt in the middle of each square, perhaps to add a little crunch to it. Not to mention the stuff beside those pixels were quite the opposite. They were round in shape, but long in length, and also had the color of chocolate. Instead of the sweet aroma I was accustomed to, like mentioned a few moments back, the food greeted me with a salty scent and a touch of oil of some sort. Ha, ha—no, not the kind of oil I would use to fuel up my kart—hoo, hoo!—but the kind that smelled as though it was somehow edible. Being that I didn’t exactly belong in this world, though, I didn’t want to take any chances of getting myself killed again…
“What’s the matter, Speedo?” Scotty brought up and eyed at me coldly, as if judging me. “Have you not tried hash browns and sausages before?”
“Huh!? Of courthe I have!” I claimed, keeping a prideful smile on my face. However, both of the appearance of my face and the sound of my voice wasn’t enough to convince these two gremlins that I was telling the truth—which of course I wasn’t, but you know! It’s only a little white lie, and everyone makes those from time to time, don’t they?
“Hey, it’s totally cool if you haven’t tried them before,” the Markus gremlin affirmed to me. “Ha! It’s not like it’s going to kill you or anything.”
“Really? Oh, thweet!” I unwillingly and unknowingly blew my cover as I immediately grabbed the silver utensils and took a small bite of the golden pixels (which I guessed were the sausages). The crunch to it was absolutely perfect!
“Thethe thauthageth are deliciouth, Markuth!” I acknowledged as I carefully took a few more bites. Sure, I was no longer in the position of having to be proper at all times, but I still felt the royalty side flickering in my code. To my right side, I heard Scotty chuckling harder than he usually would, as if holding back his laugh. “What? What’th tho funny!?”
“Oh, you are so pathetic, Speedo! How could you not know that those are the hash browns?”
“Hey, it’s not that funny,” Markus objected, but then snorted under his own breath. I felt my face flush in embarrassment.
“W-what? Hey, now, I jutht thought that THOTHE were the hash brownth!” I pointed out. “I mean—ha, ha!—they’re brown!”
“Aah, whatever, just continue on with consuming your poisons, Speedo…”
Wow, the first few minutes of trying something good and new, and wouldn’t you know? Ha! I should’ve well expected that the bitterness was still yet to cloud over the brightness of this room during this moment…
---
(Thirty minutes later; Mean Street South)
So, we finished our breakfast, and the rest of the time turned pretty decent enough. We had conversations going on, mostly with Markus and I starting them; we had a couple of good laughs and whatnot. Yeah, just a breakfast time anyone would typically go through. Anyway, we fluttered out of the projector screen that led to Mean Street South. This area in particular was one of the few things I never looked forward to in seeing while trying to head in and out of Gremlin Village from time to time.
“Well, Speedo,” Scotty spoke and crossed his arms like he usually would, “this is where we part for the day. You can go and do whatever you feel you have to, since it is your day-off…”
Oh, yeah! I just remembered that this was the day I was eager to wake up in, solely so I can meet and challenge with that Gilda character! “As for you, Markus,” he ordered (right, he was a right hand man of the gremlin leader now), “I’d like you to make sure every single one of the projector screens are in perfect shape.” Markus saluted to Scotty respectfully and immediately teleported away. Scotty was just about to do the same, but I interrupted him with a—
“Hey!”
“…what is it, Speedo?” he sighed at me, looking annoyed as he usually would.
“So, where ith Gilda usually roaming at again? I kinda forgot the name of the platheth Othwald told me she—”
“Why don’t you go and ask someone else who might know!?”
“Eesh! What happened to you all of a thudden? You were doing tho thwell latht night! Ha, ha! Did you thleep on the wrong thide of the bed or thomething?”
He sighed once again and lightly face palmed.
“Forgive me, Speedo,” he coldly stated, “but I’ve got so many things to work on besides creating that invention I’ve got in mind. I have to keep things in order for every part of Wasteland, I have to make sure everyone is working at their positions correctly; it’s a lot to keep track of! Do you understand?” Of course I understood…I understood completely. Everything he has mentioned to me was exactly what I had to go through in order to prevent that glitch from racing and resetting the game back in Sugar Rush. Huh, look how well THAT turned out for fifteen years!
I nodded at him.
“…good,” he sighed tiredly. From what I could guess, all these new things that suddenly got in the way of his “very important duty” were ordered from the gremlin leader not too long ago, which probably explains Scotty’s absence for the time being when I woke up.
“Now, hurry along, I don’t really want to have to see your face at any time while I’m working…”
“Oh, you bet ya I’ll thtay outta the way!” I asserted and raised my right arm to my head, stiffly and quickly saluting to him. He gave a little smile to that and teleported away. With Scotty and Markus being gone, all that was left for me to do was to, well, go on ahead and ask others for where this Gilda character roamed around. I fluttered around from citizen to citizen, only to earn heads shaking. As I continued this process, I wondered what form Gilda took in this world. From what the varieties of the citizens were, most of them appeared to be anthropomorphs in form—from dogs to cows—none in which were that important or necessary to the story of this world. Those of the citizens that did have a somewhat important role in here would be that of different species, such as gremlins like me, cats like Big Bad Pete (and Small Pete back at Gremlin Village), and horses like the one I was approaching to right now. I believe this one was the only notable horse resident in Wasteland, so I’m assuming right away that this was Horace Horsecollar the detective. Hoo, hoo! If he’s a detective, then SURELY he knows his way around this place a lot better than most of the citizens here!
“Hey, you!” I called out. “Horathe Horthecollar!”
“Huh? Who zat?” the horse character grumbled and turned around.
“Right here! Ha, ha! Thpeedo!” I called out, waving an arm out to him.
“Oh, you! Ha, ha! Aren’t you the one that drove that red car up in the sky?” he asked and walked towards me. I smiled gleefully and felt my pixel-bits inside going crazy with happiness and pride.
“Why, yeth! Yeth, I wath,” I nodded. “I’ll have you know that I’ve got more trickth up my thleeveth—hoo, hoo!—but all thothe will have to wait, for I’ve got a teenthy little favor to athk of you!”
“Sure! Whatever keeps away from my doing-nothingness,” Horace admitted. “What can I do to help?”
“Well, thinth you’re a detective,” I began as I fluttered closer beside him, “you theem to know about every thpick and thpan of thith plathe. Hoo, hoo! Tho I wanted to athk if you can be a pal and tell me where a rather named Gilda usually roamth about.” Horace took a good couple of minutes to ponder about the name and whereabouts of the location. He scratched onto his head, still thinking carefully. Any day, now, Horace…
Suddenly, a light bulb spawned over his head and lit up.
“I know!”
I dropped my jaw and smiled. I noticed that Horace’s eyes narrowed right away, turning my open smile into an open frown. “She’s right over there…” he finally told as he pointed at the direction behind me. I turned and followed where it was pointing, seeing only what appears to be a female cow strolling on the sidewalk. Hoo, hoo—th…that couldn’t be her, right? No-ho-ho! Gilda was the only one who was programmed to like racing, the only one who took interest in it! Surely, she had to have a design to give her some significance to this world!
I suppose there was only one way to find out.
I fluttered behind her, giving myself a couple of seconds to have a good look at her. Just like everybody else in this dreaded place, she appeared to be downed and gloomy as well, only with a little more sanity, a little more color to her colorless body. Possibly because of the bubbly sounds coming from my fluttering feet, the cow turned to me in curiosity. Without hesitation, I pointed a finger at her and asked, “…Gilda?” She sighed and turned away from me, indicating that what I thought of this cow was both right and wrong, being that I didn’t want to believe that this cow was in fact the racer I’ve been searching and pondering about.
“Yes, thadda be me,” the cow finally spoke.
“Ath in…Gilda…the rather Gilda?” I asked yet again, just to be a hundred percent sure. The cow nodded slowly, still strolling along with me. So, by this game’s standards, she wasn’t that important after all.
“Yes, I am that racer Gilda,” she replied to me, holding her hands together. “But, with the disaster from both the earthquakes and the Thinner Disaster, those days are over…”
“No, no, no, no, no,” I repeatedly shook my head and fluttered a few feet in front of her face. “That ith not how it’th going to go, Gilda! Hoo, hoo! Not while I’m around!”
“But what am I gonna do?” she objected. “Without that race track, Autotopia, then there’s no point in—”
“A RATHE track? Autotopia!?” I interrupted her.
“Y-yeah,” she nodded, “but it’s been destroyed after the Thinner Disaster, and, who knows? The quakes must’ve done it some real damage, too—”
“THAT, my dear, will no longer be the cathe!” I announced and pointed upward with my right hand and placed my left hand onto my chest with pride and encouragement. “Wathteland ith all about having each other’th backth! Ha, ha! And with our love of rathing, Gilda! You and I shall be heroeth and FICTH that plathe right away!” I immediately grabbed onto her arm and pulled her along as I fluttered along the trail.
“How can there be a chance?” Gilda panicked while she moved her feet faster, trying to keep up her pace with me. “If Autotopia is destroyed, then there’s no way in chance that the projector screen there would be—”
“That’th what Markuth ith here for, thweetie! Now let’th GO!” I instantly sped up my flight and passed flew right across the sky, not bothering to use the air balloon to get to Mean Street North. On the way, I heard Gilda’s screams under the sound of my speeding feet, as well as that Gremlin Sparks from behind shouting, “Hey! Get back here! It’s dangerous to get across with a citizen like that!” So what? I LAUGH at the faces of danger!
---
We made it beside the Walt Statue over at Mean Street North, and for the sake of Gilda’s condition here, I made sure to set her down the ground as gentle as possible. I saw her shaking in pure shock, and I couldn’t help but laugh a little at her.
“Ha, ha! Thilly girl, there wath no need to fear! Did you really think I’d EVER drop you? When you’re the only one who taketh interetht in what I love doing the motht? Now that would be a total wathte if I did—hoo, hoo!”
“You little nutball,” she shuddered at me. “That…was…”
“Oh, what ith it, dear?” I asked, leaning in my ear to listen to her lovely compliments to me. It’s only natural for anybody who’d lay eyes upon me to instantly recognize my greatness. Well, natural to those who don’t have brains like Scotty…
“…AMAZING!” Gilda suddenly shouted ecstatically. “You obviously have a unique way of seeing the wonders of racing! So, uh, what’s your name again, there?”
“Oh, hoo, hoo!—I’m afraid I haven’t introduthed mythelf to you yet,” I admitted and planted myself onto the ground in order to lower myself and bow down to my going-to-be racing opponent. “I’m Gremlin Thpeedo.”
“Speedo, huh? Not at all subtle, ain’t it? Ha, ha!” she joked and suddenly snorted. “Oh, excuse me.” Ha! I didn’t think I’d ever live to hear that coming out of a female character’s mouth! I had to say, it was kind of hilarious and cute! I laughed aloud, and as expected, she joined in with a couple of more snorts. Suddenly, we were both interrupted by a good BANG! We looked over and noticed that there was glowing blue and green liquid splattered beside those “out of boundary” signs. It was only obvious that the Mickey Spatter was here and definitely up to no good again.
“What the…?” Gilda tilted her head as she saw the Spatter breaking more of the signs and…gathering some scrap metal?
“Hey!” I shouted and made an attempt to chase after him. Of course, he panicked and ran off to jump through a projector screen that led to what I believe was the Ventureland section. Hoo, hoo! You know, this reminded me of the times back whenever I’d have to chase the glitch away in order to prevent her from ruining everything I have maintained. I suppose the glitch was to me like this Spatter could be to Scotty later on. Well, whatever this Mickey Spatter was planning to do with those scrap metals, it wasn’t my problem.
---
~Speck’s POV
(Forty five minutes later; the Mad Doctor’s Secret Machine)
It took me so many runs and jumps and breaths to reach to the Mad Doc’s “secret machine” (sometimes he’d call it his “attraction” by accident but not notice that he did). Since last night, I’ve spent my time collecting scrap metals from here and there with some occasional breaks. Through the whole night to now, the Doc and I got along pretty well, and even when I couldn’t exactly speak, he’d laugh at whatever I’d try to “say” to him. He was a very friendly animatronic, and really, if it weren’t for those quakes to have occurred, everybody would’ve appreciated his efforts on trying to revive the god that he called the Shadow Blot.
I’m probably not making sense here now, huh? Golly, I gotta work on staying on one topic at a time, ha-ha.
Well, here’s what’s going on between the Doc and I—he’s told me that the Shadow Blot was the being who created all of Wasteland, as well as all the Blotlings, such as myself. A long while back, though, a certain toon sought to destroy it so that he could steal the power of the Blot and have it for himself. In the process, both the Blot and the toon have vanished quite dramatically. In other words, the two were both killed in a great battle for the righteousness of the power of creation. So the Doc, here, mourns for the loss of the Blot and wishes to revive it, so that it can help us in making Wasteland a better place.
Gosh…shocking story, right?
Well, that's not even the shocking part. According to the Doc here, with the last of the Blot’s strength, it entrusted its own powers onto a certain Spatter, so that way that certain Spatter can continue on with its work and continue on with helping Wasteland. I was in pure shock when the Doc had told me this, because immediately I knew that the certain Spatter he was speaking of was, in fact, me. I felt absolutely glad knowing exactly what my purpose was. However, the Doc was letting me work this out in a totally different perspective. Instead of teaching me on how to control my power, he gave me the task of being his personal assistant and give a hand on fixing his secret machine. And once the machine is completed, I have to exchange some part of myself to the machine in order to revive the Blot. In return, the Doc would give me a voice.
“Good work, Little Speck!” he cheered as he clapped happily and gave a few pats on my head. “Just set the scraps over in that corner and we’ll be fixing up this beauty in no time!” I nodded and did as he told. After setting them in the corner of this huge room, I wiped the sweat off from my forehead and sat down to take a break. The Doc noticed how drained I was and walked over to kneel down in front of me. “Look, Little Speck, I know it’s tiring and tough,” he spoke in a comforting tone and placed his cold, metallic hand onto my goopy shoulder, “but that’s exactly what this whole thing is about. We are tough! And once we revive the Blot, everyone in Wasteland will be proud of me—err, us! Everyone will look up to us! Everyone will know who we are, EVERYONE will shout our names! Well, once I give you one, of course.”
I smiled to that and nodded. I gave a relaxed sigh, and without realizing it, my eyes slowly shut by themselves from pure exhaustion. Despite that, I felt at peace. The last thing I heard other than my snores were, “Sleep tight, Little Speck…”
Suggested Collections
Codes and Stories - Chapter 8: Second Day, Second Place
Chapter 7 - Something Worthwhile --> fav.me/d6myxds
Chapter 9 - Two Days of Failure --> fav.me/d6skokg
Tired of going back and forth? All of the pages are right here --> fantasyfreak-fangirl.deviantar…
Side comment: Yes, I can see Gilda as the snorting type, is that bad? The preview image is probably more of a foreshadow of what's going to happen on this day than it is on this particular chapter. I find that the title is also a little irrelevant to this chapter
I'm not sure if much is going on here, so it probably sucks. Other than that, should Speck really believe everything what the Mad Doctor has told him, or does the Mad Doctor—now with his code deleted—actually believe he's doing good for Wasteland?
Sorry he didn't sing here, Mad Doctor fans
Epic Mickey & Epic Mickey 2 (c) Junction Point
Turbo/Wreck-It Ralph (c) Walt Disney Studios
Codes and Stories fanfic (c) me
Chapter 7 - Something Worthwhile --> fav.me/d6myxds
Chapter 9 - Two Days of Failure --> fav.me/d6skokg
Tired of going back and forth? All of the pages are right here --> fantasyfreak-fangirl.deviantar…
Side comment: Yes, I can see Gilda as the snorting type, is that bad? The preview image is probably more of a foreshadow of what's going to happen on this day than it is on this particular chapter. I find that the title is also a little irrelevant to this chapter
I'm not sure if much is going on here, so it probably sucks. Other than that, should Speck really believe everything what the Mad Doctor has told him, or does the Mad Doctor—now with his code deleted—actually believe he's doing good for Wasteland? Sorry he didn't sing here, Mad Doctor fans
Epic Mickey & Epic Mickey 2 (c) Junction Point
Turbo/Wreck-It Ralph (c) Walt Disney Studios
Codes and Stories fanfic (c) me
© 2013 - 2024 FantasyFreak-FanGirl
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Well, here’s what’s going on between the Doc and I—he’s told me that the Phantom Blot was the being who created all of Wasteland, as well as all the Blotlings, such as myself. A long while back, though, a certain toon sought to destroy it so that he could steal the power of the Blot and have it for himself. In the process, both the Blot and the toon have vanished quite dramatically. In other words, the two were both killed in a great battle for the righteousness of the power of creation. So the Doc, here, mourns for the loss of the Blot and wishes to revive it, so that it can help us in making Wasteland a better place.
That part the most...