Blogoversary Mashup, Part 2

When we last left off . . .

Over at the ballroom entrance, Byron and Bella opened the doors to admit the rest of the guests. The first two entered shortly thereafter. One wore sharp-looking, gold-trimmed clothes that were dyed a dark green and looked to have come from the Golden Age of Piracy; a dark cavalier hat completed the look. The second fellow had a simple outfit that consisted of a sleeveless white shirt and brown breeches, with a navy bandana tied around his head.

“Welcome to the Author’s party,” Bella said warmly. “Who might you two be?”

“I am Captain Brixton.” The first man bowed and flourished his hat. “This is my first mate, Gideon. We are representing the crew of the Runaway Rogue. The rest of them should be here shortly.”

“More pirates, hmm?” Byron rubbed his chin. “The Author seems to be fascinated by them.”

“I’m no pirate!” Brixton exclaimed. “I am a treasure hunter.”

Byron stared at him blankly. “Do you have an armed ship?”

“Ship would be an exaggeration. More like an armed . . . vessel.”

“You prey on government soldiers in their warships?”

“You’re making this sound a lot worse than it actually is.”

“Do you steal from people?”

“No! . . . Well, sometimes.”

“Then you’re a pirate.” Byron folded his arms.

“To be fair, I acquire more things than I steal.”

“If that allows you to sleep at night.”

Bella looked to Gideon. “Is your captain always like this?”

Gideon nodded vigorously, tugging at his thin, curled mustache. “I have had similar discussions with him, to no avail.”

“Come along, Gids.” Brixton waved a hand. “We are holding up the line, and I don’t see a need to suffer any more accusations. It’s an honest work we do.”

“Of course,” Byron rumbled.

Up next was a young man wearing some sort of fantasy adventurer getup. It wasn’t terribly clear, indicating that the Author hadn’t fully imagined it yet. “Morbus,” he said, “treasure hunter.”

Byron shared a look with Bella and said, “So one might call you a pirate?”

Morbus spluttered for a moment. “I beg your pardon?! Do I look like a pirate to you?”

“Well, to be quite honest, it’s hard to identify.” Bella gestured at his wavering clothes.

“I am clearly a legitimate treasure hunter.” He pushed past them, grumbling under his breath about the greeters needing decent social skills.

Then came a girl in her twenties. She seemed a little jittery, glancing this way and that. She wore a simple outfit that consisted of lace-up boots, black jeans, a buttoned lavender shirt, and—lo and behold—a black leather jacket.

“Welcome here,” Bella greeted warmly. “I’m Bella, and this is Captain Byron. Who are you?”

“I’m, uh, Twilight Grendell. I’ve never really been to any parties, so you’ll have to excuse my behavior.” She never cast her eyes directly at either one of them.

Byron folded his arms. It seemed a little suspicious, but who was he to judge? “I hope you will enjoy the festivities.”

“Thanks.” Twilight walked into the ballroom without another word.

Other people streamed through the doorway. Grace—friends with David, Warren, and especially Mark—joined the celebration with Alyssa, Kayne’s girlfriend. There was a guy named Tyren, who was a special warrior known as a Legend; a humanoid alien called Bronx from the race of Feargens; an unnamed young lady who wielded ice powers and who actually has a name that the Author is certain he wrote down somewhere but can’t find it now which really, really bugs him though he thinks it might be Zaria (also no, she is not Elsa); Callum and Brody, the main characters in a spooky flash fiction; the remainder of the Runaway Rogue’s crew; and many others, both protagonists and side characters. Some were scrapped ideas, and some were barely thought out. They were all united by one thing: they wished to show their appreciation for the Author’s two years of blogging.

Characters grabbed desserts, appetizers, and drinks, then mingled with others. The ballroom was a buzz of conversation. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves—well, truth be told, Kayne wasn’t really having a good time, and Brixton was still a bit miffed about being called a pirate. Other than that, everything was going splendidly.

If only they knew what you and I know. Wait, you don’t know? Allow me to show you. Just turn your attention outside . . .

***

“Celebrations are underway,” Jasper said into his radio.

“Copy that,” Vortex replied. “Do you have eyes on the Author?”

The metallic cyborg scanned the streets for the Author’s specific signatures. “Negative. He should be arriving shortly, though.”

“Keep us informed.”

Frayen—the theater-masked, treasuring-hunting rival to Morbus—folded his arms. “What makes you believe that he’ll show up?” His tone was anything but pleasant.

Jasper narrowed his eyes. “You may find this a bit hard to believe, but the longer a character is with his author, and the more he’s written about, the more he understands his creator. You come from an incomplete flash fiction that wasn’t even a page long. I’ve been in two completed novellas.”

“You hardly did anything in Of Beauties and Beasts.”

“Be that as it may, I’ve been written longer than you have. I know more about the Author, which means that I know he’ll keep his promises. He said he would come here, so he will.”

Frayen snorted. “All right then, Mr. High and Mighty Possessed Suit of Armor.”

“I am a cyborg.”

“I have no idea what that even means! For all I know, you are pulling these words and ideas out of the air to make yourself look better.”

Someone on the street caught Jasper’s attention. He zoomed in and saw the familiar glasses, that intense “on a mission” walking style, the smirk at some funny thought. The signatures all matched up too. Jasper touched his radio. “The Author is in my sights.”

Vortex was silent for a moment. “Jarek and Cronus agree that we wait five minutes before we move in.”

“We await your signal.” Jasper looked to Frayen. “Tell the conductor to fire up the Hellrider. We’ve got a writer to kidnap.”

***

As you can see, things aren’t looking too good at the moment. The protagonists and side characters are blissfully unaware at this point. Whether that’s a good thing or not remains to be seen.

Mark threw a glance at the clock before grabbing the mic. He tapped it gently, but no sound was heard. “Hello? Is this thing on?”

Still nothing. He shrugged and practically yelled, “FOOOOOOLS!” He had no idea why he chose that quote (it might have something to do with me listening to the soundtrack for A Hat in Time whilst writing this and thinking of Snatcher). Unfortunately for Mark, Ryder had noticed he was trying to use the mic and turned on the speakers just as Mark insulted everyone in the room.

Weapons were unholstered or unsheathed, and people looked around for the source of the evil-ish voice. Mark gave a sheepish wave. “Uh, sorry about that. That was just me.”

Now dozens of eyes locked onto him. He froze, feeling that familiar sense of panic. Warren and David caught on to what was about to happen and stepped in. Warren led him to a chair, and David took the mic. “Welcome here, everyone! It’s so great to see your lovely faces.”

“I can’t even see my own face!” Maggie, part of the Runaway Rogue crew, pointed to her blurry face. At least, it was in the general area of a face. It was pretty hard to tell.

David coughed. “Be that as it may, I’m glad you all made it. Today we are celebrating the Author’s second anniversary of blogging. He should be showing up any minute now, and he has no idea that you’re all here. So be ready to—”

He never got a chance to finish his sentence, for it was at that moment that the ballroom doors swung open. In walked the Author himself, Josiah. He looked around the room, and his jaw dropped. “Wha—what are you all doing here?”

“Surprise!” most everyone hollered.

A few people hadn’t caught on to what the occasion was and instead shouted things like, “Happy birthday!”

“Congrats on the baby!”

“Happy Hanukkah!”

“What’s this about?” Josiah asked. His eyes darted across the crowd gathered there.

“Why, it’s your blogoversary!” David said. “Didn’t you remember?”

“Truth be told, not exactly. I’ve been really busy over the last several weeks. I haven’t had much time to think about it.”

Warren snatched the mic. “Well, now you do. So think about it for a little, then come on up here.”

Josiah walked to the miniature stage that Mark, David, and Warren were on. The three grad students spoke into the mic at the same time. “From all of us to you, happy blogoversary!”

That’s when calamity ensued.

The far wall of the ballroom exploded, and a locomotive as black as midnight burst into the room. The wheels screeched over the tiled floor, gouging deep scratches into it. Miraculously, the train missed the food tables, and everyone managed to jump out of the way. The brakes screeched, and the mechanical monster stopped just before it would’ve collided with the stage.

Mark chose that moment to pass out.

One of the coach doors slid open, and the conductor and Frayen stepped out. The conductor wielded chains strapped to clock hands, and Frayen reached for something underneath his navy cloak. “Well, well, well,” he said, voice muffled by the mask he wore. “What a surprise. The Author shows up to a little party. How quaint.”

Jasper leaped out of the train and knocked the two antagonists upside their heads. “What are you two doing? It hasn’t been five minutes yet!”

“Is there something wrong with showing initiative by showing up early?” the conductor asked, a question at odds with his unsettling voice.

“When it comes to a plan that needs to be carefully executed, yes, that is wrong.”

“Hey, big guy!” Selah piped up. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like our ol’ friend, Jasper Ward.”

“It would seem so.” Ryder strapped on his reinforced gloves. “Stay back, Ceinwen. I’m not letting him take you again.”

“It can only happen if the Author wills it,” Ceinwen said. “And I have already been captured in our story, so the chances of him wanting to repeat the scenario are approximately 3.8205 percent.”

Jasper waved a hand. “That isn’t how it works, but I cannot afford to waste any time explaining that.”

“Step away from the Author,” Byron growled. “I have fought Jasper before, and I will do it again.”

Bella pointed her saber in Jasper’s direction. “New body or not, you will not be leaving here with the Author.”

Jasper looked all around the room and noticed just how many attendees there actually were. He frowned. “Yes, we are too early.” He grabbed his companions by the scruff of their necks and hauled them into the Hellrider. “Don’t run too far off; we will return in a couple of minutes. Or do run, and make things more interesting.” He shut the door, and the train zipped out in reverse.

Silence reigned for several seconds. Mark broke it by saying, “Sooo are we letting them come back to take Josiah, or what’s the deal here?”

“Not while I still stand to fight,” Takeshi said.

Josiah shook his head. “I should’ve known it would come to this. I’d heard rumblings and rumors, but I didn’t actually think that they would try it.”

“Try it?” Adrian asked. “Try what?”

Josiah opened his mouth to answer, but it was too late. Antagonists flooded the ballroom, swarming everyone. Evidently the five minutes had gone by.

Karnu, clad in his dark samurai armor and a cape, entered alongside the hooded and cloaked Dark Master. Both held swords at the ready. Master Chen made a spectacular entrance by flying in with his throne (which is filled with many other surprises); Clouse, his right-hand man and a wielder of Dark Magic, followed closely behind. The unclear form of Captain Maalen strode in, swinging his cutlass as he did. Darlinja the Magistrate had two robot Enforcers walk in front of her. Their eyes glowed purple, indicating they were in their menace mode.

There were others, too: Viper, the man-snake with a muscular frame; Jav-08 of the Taloid race; Dauthi, a gigantic warrior with skin that looked like he’d been dipped into the blackest of darkness and came out with a slight sheen; Vortex, with his blonde hair that had one black streak down the middle; a brute who controlled corrupted elements and definitely doesn’t have a name yet; the King of the Cursed and his wife; Queen Consumptia with her boydguards and their dark matter weapons; and plenty of others. As with the protagonists, some were tossed out ideas, and some had barely any form to them.

Leading them all were Jarek and Cronus. The two of them, though not physically taller than a handful of the other villains, seemed to have a presence about them that made them tower above the rest.

There was an awkward silence. Josiah cleared his throat. “Hey, guys . . . How’s it shaking?”

“That’s it?” Jarek asked. “That’s how you respond to us after all you’ve done?”

Josiah frowned. “All I’ve done to you? What in the world are you talking about?”

“How convenient that you forget so quickly,” Karnu rumbled.

“Your behavior is inexcusable!” Chen screeched. “Even talking to you makes me feel ill!”

“Master, that would be the seven heaping helpings of noodle dishes you had for supper,” Clouse droned.

“Don’t ruin the drama, Clousey-Clouse!”

“So we can add vague statements to all of your lists of qualities,” Warren said. “Why are you crashing our party?”

Jarek pointed at Josiah. “We want him.”

Cronus revved his saw, located where his left hand used to be, for good measure.

Ryder whipped out his electroshock pistol. “Well, you won’t be getting him. So move along.”

“As you wish.” Jarek turned to the rest of the antagonists. “You heard the man. Let’s make our move.”

He sprang forward faster and farther than humanly possible, Cronus right behind him. They slammed into the line of heroes that formed on the stage, knocking them over like so many bowling pins. Jarek nabbed Josiah and jumped away. As his feet hit the ground, a blast from Ryder brought him crashing to the floor. Ryder flew closer, but Chen collided into him with his throne.

Karnu took the opportunity to knock Josiah unconscious and threw him over his shoulder. “We have the Author in our possession,” he roared. “Fall back!”

As quickly as they’d come, the villains headed out. Shocked at first, the guests watched them go. “Don’t just stand there like blank-eyed fools!” Byron bellowed. “We must recover the Author.”

And thus, the greatest chase ever chased in the history of chasing . . . was chased.

To be concluded tomorrow . . .