Slip heard raised voices coming from the office as he opened the door. A mess of papers slowly drifted through the air, as the editor continued to yell and rant at the reporter.
"We have to get a story! We can't put another 'Such and such found dead,' or another 'Business gets burned down!' That's all we hear about! We need something fresh, something that stands out! So why aren't you doing your steaming job?"
Sketch slipped into the room and closed the door. The editor and reporter turned toward him.
"Sir, I think I may have something."
"Yeah, right," he snorted, and looked back to Albert. "Like I was saying, we have to get something compelling. Nobody cares about the low lives. They want it to be about the higher-ups."
"Excuse me, sir."
"What?!" Eddie turned his beady eyes toward Sketch and all but snarled. He was a short, stiff-backed man with a balding scalp and a well-groomed stache. Slip the paperboy had all but had it with the rude, self-entitled little rat, but held back his temper.
"Sir! Duke Yellton's son was just kidnapped not even half an hour ago!"
"Do what?! Why didn't you tell me, you nitwit! If your brain was half the size of your brawn, then you would be a steaming genius, but no—you're a good-for-nothing pie …."
"Sir, the kidnapping!" Albert all but shouted.
"Oh right, what can you tell us?"
"Well, I was on the corner of the shopping center when the duke's carriage came down the street, when these masked men stopped the car and grabbed the kid and dragged him into the alley!"
"Ahhhhh! This is exactly why you can't be a reporter, you steaming idiot! We need details and passion, and all you have are blah blah blah!" Eddie growled and kicked the desk, then immediately regretted that decision, now that his toe felt broken. He yelled at Albert, "What are you waiting for? There is the story we've been needing, and you are just standing here! Get out there and do your smutting job, you nitwit!"
Albert jumped and scurried out the door.
As all this happened, Slip struggled with his irritation. He knew if it got out of hand, he would have a lot of explaining to do. Eddie sat down behind his desk and just then realized that Slip was still there.
"What are you still here for? Get going!" he snapped.
"Sir," Slip said, clenching his fist, "you said that if I provided a story, then I would get a lil bonus.
"You better be glad I let a no-good lump of coal in my establishment, much less work for me, and you want me to reward you for that bit of information? You're crazy. I should kick you back into the filth and the rubble you came from! If it wasn't for me letting you stay in the alley out back, you would be in the underground getting your throat cut!" He spit on Slip's shoes.
And that was all Slip could handle. His hands began to shift from his normal brown to a light tan, then to a shiny white. Eddie looked at him with horror, then with disgust.
"I can't believe I let one of your kind in here, you vile animal. What even are you, you steaming monster?!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Eddie," apologized Slip as he grabbed a paperweight off the desk and slammed it into Eddie's head.
When he awoke, he was propped up in the seat. As his eyes started to focus and his fuzzy mind began to settle, he noticed the door to the safe open. He cursed, scrambling out of the chair, tripping and stumbling his way to the safe. When he reached it, he was amazed to see that it was still untouched—save for a lil note. He picked it up and read:
Dear Mr. Eddie
Thank you for all you have done and for taking a stranger like me off the streets. I'm sorry this is how I betray your trust. I'm sorry to mislead you. I took only the money owed and left the rest.
Sincerely yours, Slip
For a moment Eddie felt sympathetic for the young man, but when he remembered what he … no … what it was, he grunted in disgust.
Slip had the clothes on his back and a satchel with some bread and the measly three pennies to his name. He, like everyone in the forsaken world, had a counter. His was a chameleon counter.
Normally this would mean he would be a lil better at climbing and stuff of that nature, but unlike most, he had an actual physical deformation caused by the counter. Those with physical deformations were seen as this world's lepers; they were unclean and were seen more as livestock. For this reason, anyone found with actual physical deformation was placed in chains and used as free labor.
These physical deformations were normally a crooked antler, or a dog snout, maybe even a crooked arm—so on and so forth. But in some rare occasions, people got the quote-unquote useful deformations, like extremely powerful arms due to being a gorilla counter, maybe some powerful legs to jump far. Heck, he even heard of people in the far east that used bat counters with deformations in their ears that could do a toned-down version of echolocation.
Slip—well, he was a chameleon counter. He had a deformation in his skin that, in theory, would make him perfect at slipping in and out of places unnoticed—or at least unrecognized. You see, his skin could change from the deepest ebony to the light skin of a Caucasian. The only problem was he couldn't control it. The moment he lost his temper, he would start shifting skin tones.
He had an exceptionally useful deformity, but for him it just made it more difficult to get on with his life.
He made his way through the streets of Babylon. Everyone seemed to think it was the Sect's gift to mankind, but Slip—he knew better.