There are all kinds of Organizations that threaten the peace and stability of Sweet Jazz and it's neighbours; The Bonzai Blasters, Bliss Ocean and even people like the Bounty Hunters and thieves like Zora Salazar and Ryoko Tsukushi
Here's the story...
It was hard to imagine that a place like Sweet Jazz City would be the subject for not just ONE or two but three sets of thieves after the artefacts inside it's grandiose Museum; The Banzai Blasters led by Giovanni Potage were squaring off with Mera Salamin and Indus Tarbella for the Arsene Amulet while the notorious menace to the Police and to the bounty hunters chasing her; meanwhile unbeknownst to the others, the infamous Phantom Thief would after something just as valuable inside the Museum.
———HOURS EARLIER———
"Epithets....Some people have them, Some people don't....A specific word gets bonded to your soul and as a result of this; you get to do....stuff...so kids, what are people called if they don't have an Epithet." A tired looking dark haired girl would say as she was guiding a mob of school kids on a tour of the museum who would unenthusiastically grumble back an answer; "A Mundie, that's correct....you know this because you're NOT four years old.....and if you DO have an Epithet then you are what's known as 'Inscribed', now who among you has an Epithet of their own?" She would ask the crowd of youngsters plus a blondehaired, starry bearded man-child bouncing up and down.
"OH! LITTLE GIRL RIGHT HERE! SHE'S GOT ONE! Go on Molly, show her your stuff!" he would yell and try to get her attention as said little girl was trying her hardest to either deflect attention or pretend she could hide as a pot plant, however she couldn't as the Guide would saunter over with a forced look of excitement; "Oh gosh, you do? that must be amazing, only one in FIVE people have an epithet....so, what does your's do?" she would ask, the woman towered over the bear-hoodies girl as she shyly kicked her feet.
"Oh uh....it's nothing....it's Dumb." She would stammer out as she was not comfortable being the centre of attention, especially when it came to her Epithet.
Thinking that she was being non-confrontational; the woman would cross her arms under her name tag: Mera, "Come on kid, I'm not paid by the hour here....you see that girl over there?" she would ask, pointing to a similarly dressed woman with tied up dark hair and wearing glasses over her tired, scarlet eyes;
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