Blogoversary Mashup, Part 1

Author's Note: I give credit where credit is due, so my thanks go to Deborah O'Carroll for inspiring me to do this. She had her own blogoversary character mashup a few years ago--coincidentally for her second year of blogging as well--which gave me the idea to do my own. Thanks, Deb!

Also, in case you missed them, read "???" and then "Not Much Longer Now . . ." before you read this one.

It all started innocently enough, as many stories do. A celebration was being prepared for the Author, and his characters couldn’t wait until the special event commenced. They had rented a fancy ballroom at an even fancier hotel for the occasion. Decorating was currently underway, and it was going well . . . for the most part.

Two grad students were in the process of hanging up streamers around the room. “A little to your left,” Mark said as he stabilized the ladder.

Warren leaned over and made as if to adjust the streamers. “No, sorry,” Mark amended. “I meant your right.”

With a sigh, Warren tilted the other way. “On second thought,” Mark said, “maybe another color would look better here.”

Warren glared at his friend. “I’ve come too far to change the color, dude. We’re sticking with the pink and green streamers, and that’s final.”

“Buuuuut he’d like orange and green more, don’t ya think?”

“He’s the one who gave me a bad leg, so he can change the streamers himself if he’s too darn fussy.” Warren raised an eyebrow. “Or you can, if you’d like.”

“I’d, uh . . . rather not. I would hate to have a panic attack while up there.”

“Then why the heck are you the one steadying my ladder?!”

The two of them stared at each other for a while before Mark said, “You make a good point.”

“Finally, my genius is acknowledged instead of simply my brawn.”

“Throwing a word like ‘brawn’ around doesn’t do you any favors.”

“Oh, shut up.” Warren winked at Mark. “Now let’s quickly finish up before something bad happens.”

If only he knew . . . Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to foreshadow. Where were we? Ah, yes, we were about to go check in on the other guests. David—best friend to Mark and Warren as well as a grad student—was currently fiddling with his cello—before you ask, the pun was intentional. Kayne eyed him skeptically. “Do you actually know how to play that thing?”

“I should hope so, considering I’m in charge of providing some music for tonight.” David chuckled, choosing not to take offense over the young man’s comment.

Kayne nodded once and headed back to the food tables. Adrian was already there, setting everything up and wearing an apron over his standard leather jacket. He cast a glance at Kayne, who was running a hand through his spikey black hair with blue streaks. “Something the matter?”

“I guess I’m a little nervous. Can you blame me, though? The Author has put me through so much hardship and trauma. It’s putting me on edge, and I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to celebrate when I’m feeling like I’m on an emotional rollercoaster.”

Adrian nodded sagely. “I hear ya. But at the end of the day, the Author’s a pretty good guy. I think that once the party gets going, you’ll be able to join in the festivities.”

“I hope so,” Kayne murmured.

Meanwhile, the prince characters—a steampunk pirate, a samurai prince, and a sci-fi superhero—set up the table while the princesses—a merchant’s daughter, a royal princess, and a sentient android—watched and offered their moral support. “How peculiar,” Prince Takeshi said as he unfolded one table’s legs. “In Yashan, our tables are not nearly as convenient.”

“Really?” Ryder asked, rolling out another round table. “I imagine a lot of things about your historical era are inconvenient. Like that getup you’re wearing.”

Takeshi looked down at his green ceremonial armor. “Perhaps one from an age such as yours might think so, but I am accustomed to it. It doesn’t bother me much. Byron’s metallic additions seem to be more inhibiting.”

“In that regard, I am the same as you.” Byron placed chairs around the tables and raised his right arm, which was all a mechanical contraption. “This—” he pointed at the left side of his face and neck, where a steel mask of sorts covered bad burns “—and this are not an issue to me. And even the Victorian Era has folding tables, so we are superior to your era.” He smirked.

“Folding tables aren’t really bragging rights when you guys had airships and freaking laser cannons,” Ryder said.

“Energy cannons, not laser.”

“An issue of semantics.”

“But the twenty-second century has advanced to the point where androids such as myself exist,” Ceinwen said. She looked nothing like a robot, but rather what was deemed a “perfect woman” by society’s standards, complete with flowing red hair. “If we are debating about which temporal period is the best in terms of technology, that would be ours.”

“In the end, technological advancements do not matter,” Bella mused, fiddling with her sheathed saber attached to her belt. Scandalous for her timeline, she was comfortable wearing breeches with her bodice. “They strengthen the good man in his quest for justice and aid the corrupt man in his lust for power. Love is timeless, and that is most important.”

Emiko nodded and smoothed out her ocean-colored dress. “Indeed. The Life-Breather’s love is abundant throughout history. We would do well to remember that.”

There was a short silence before Ryder said, “You guys really know how to bring up those heavy topics out of the discussion of folding tables.”

“Ah, so that’s why no one ever invites me to their parties.” Bella grinned.

“You were invited to this one, were you not?” Ceinwen asked.

“It was a joke, Ceinwen,” Ryder said.

“Re-examining Miss Mason’s statement . . . I have found traces of humor in her sentence. Very amusing, Miss Mason.”

“Call me Bella, please. I’m not one for formalities.”

Byron chuckled. “No, she definitely is not.”

Bella put her hands on her hips. “And what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Griffith?”

After he stabilized the last table, Takeshi turned to Byron with a stoic expression. “It is never a good idea to anger your soulmate, Captain.” The twinkle in his eyes gave away the humor behind his words.

“That’s a good one, Yashanese Samurai Prince Dude!” a chipper voice piped up from the tablet at Ryder’s side. “I always appreciate an excellent pun.”

“Puns are just the worst, Selah,” Ryder grumbled. “And there wasn’t any.” Then he froze, and a scowl overtook his face. “Really? You’re making a boat pun by connecting ‘soulmate’ with him calling Byron a captain?”

“You’re always so quick on your feet, big guy. Except when you aren’t, but we don’t talk about that.”

“I do not follow,” Ceinwen said. “We have performed many tests of speed on Ryder, and he has always been both fast and agile. You seem to be mistaken, Selah.” She paused. “Or do you happen to be referring to the figure of speech?”

“That would be it, Robo Chick.”

“Forget what I said about puns being the worst,” Ryder said. “That title belongs to you.”

Out of the blue, Emiko suddenly gasped. “Oh, Life-Breather save him!”

On the opposite end of the room, Warren had leaned a bit too far and seemed to be losing his balance. In his panic, Mark let go of the ladder, which began to tip over. Ryder ignited his rocket boots and shot over to them, catching Warren and placing him on the floor.

Warren looked up at him in disbelief. “Why in the world am I putting up streamers when you’re clearly more than capable?”

“You seem to be doing a decent enough job.”

“Says the guy who could simply fly around to string them up.”

“Touché. Whatever the case, it looks fine to me.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call you an expert in party décor,” Selah said.

“Shut up.”

Mark raced over to Warren, followed by David. “I’m sorry, Warren,” Mark said a bit breathlessly. “I didn’t realize what was going on until it was too late.”

“It’s all good, man. This superhero guy saved me.”

“It’s Ryder.”

David frowned. “Well, so much for a secret identity. You’re just going around announcing who you are to everybody?”

Selah laughed at that. “Good one, Dave! Can I call you Dave? Thanks.”

“Your tablet doesn’t sound like Siri or Cortana or anything,” Mark said.

“You get it off the black market?” Warren asked.

“First, her name is Selah, a highly advanced personal assistant program. Secondly, no, she is not available on the black market. She was invented at Titanium Laboratories.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Selah,” David said. “You seem like you’d get along quite well with me and my friends.”

“If you can stand anime, then you’re automatically one of my favorite people.”

David paused for a second. “Nani?!”

That set Selah off in another fit of laughter. “That’s awesome! It’s official: we are now besties.”

Ryder, Mark, and Warren simply groaned.

Meanwhile, Kayne and Adrian received more help with the food preparations. Samrid, also a member of Yashanese nobility, set out glamorous and exotic desserts and appetizers from his home country. His face was flushed with excitement, similar to his dull orange ceremonial armor and not nearly as bright as his flaming red hair.

“What a selection we have today!” He gazed over the two tables laden with food. “What are your thoughts?”

“I think it looks fantastic,” Adrian said. “The Author should be pleased.”

Kayne folded his arms. “I think we’re overdoing things here. Is he really worth it?”

Samrid raised an eyebrow quizzically. Adrian leaned over and whispered, “We may not be in Master Chen’s tournament right now, but that doesn’t mean you should be singling yourself out. Try to blend in a little better.”

“Fine, fine.” Kayne stuffed his hands in his pockets and shut his mouth.

Takeshi and Emiko walked hand-in-hand to the food tables. “This looks absolutely wonderful!” Emiko smiled at Samrid, Adrian, and Kayne. “Thank you all for your contributions.”

Samrid bowed magnanimously, and Adrian tipped his head, saying, “But of course, Your Imperial Highness.” Kayne just managed to give a small smile.

Takeshi glanced at Adrian, then turned to Ryder, before looking in Byron’s direction. “Now that I am seeing us together in the same room, I’m noticing certain affinities the Author has. You may notice one shared between three of you.”

A moment later, Adrian chuckled. “Ah, I see. I have a leather jacket, Ryder has a leather trench coat, and Byron has a tailcoat, albeit not a leather one.”

“Indeed. I wonder what some of the Author’s other favorite elements are.”

“How about pain and suffering?” Kayne muttered.

Adrian shot him a glance, but Takeshi nodded slowly. “I can see your point. Everyone in this room has suffered or will suffer horrible trauma.”

“I hear that most Authors are sadistic in that way,” Samrid said. “They enjoy making their readers feel emotional over their characters.”

“How will the readers connect to us if not emotionally attached?” Emiko countered.

Adrian shrugged. “You’re not wrong there.”

Kayne rolled his eyes and left the group. This conversation wasn’t helping his already-poor mood. As far as he was concerned, his Author could shove it. Not like I’m gonna say that out loud. I already look bad enough.

To be continued tomorrow . . .