The Good Princess Heather was in grave danger! Captured by the Brutal Barony of the Magnavore Army: The despicable cyborg Trip von Vanderhoff, and his big brainless brother, Van von Vanderhoff! Tied to a tree in a dark forest’s clearing and surrounded by the brown and black-suited Scab cyborgs at Trip’s vile command, the beauteous princess struggled in vain against the filthy chains holding her as she scowled at the two villains!
She shook her head, her blonde hair tossing to and fro. “You will never get away with this. My father the King will send aid!”
Adorned in a white lab coat over gold and black armor from chin to toe, the bespectacled Trip von Vanderhoff faced the princess with a brutal sneer, and ran a black gauntlet covered hand through his blue and green-tipped blonde hair. “Oh Princess, all that struggling is going to mess your lovely hair and dress. You are right though, the King will send aid and soon we will have not only you, but our true prize!”
The Princess gasped. “What?!”
Holding aloft a wicked bastard sword of the coldest metal, Van von Vanderhoff pointed its tip into the sky. “Your hero will come, and we will slay him once and for all. Then the kingdom will be plunged into darkness!”
Trip von Vanderhoff held out his arms. “I, Trip von Vanderhoff, will rule this Kingdom forever as a mechanical empire, and you shall be my cyborg queen! All that is good and light will be choked in the dark smoke of industry’s fire!”
The Princess’s eyes widened, and all the color fled from her face. “… N-no!”
Trip von Vanderhoff turned away from the Princess and called to the forest beyond. “So come hero! Walk straight into the uncaring jaws of destiny to your doom!”
“All you had to do was ask.”
Not expecting the reply, Trip von Vanderhoff recoiled, electricity jumping across his gauntlets. “What?!”
Van von Vanderhoff was also surprised, taking his sword in both hands and assuming a low stance. “Already?!”
The Princess’s green eyes lit up with hope that gave way to dread. “Oh no!”
A teenaged young man with dirty blonde-hair and clear blue-eyes emerged from the forest, wearing oddly just a blue-striped shirt, jean shorts, and sneakers. In his hand he held a blue-cased smartphone and on his face, he carried a cocky grin.
He stopped in the center of the clearing. “You had this big plan all for me and you’re surprised that I’d just walk in?”
“Please be careful!!” Princess Heather cried.
Trip von Vanderhoff’s panicked expression morphed back to his sneer. “Actually? Yes! Welcome to your doom, Drew Beet!”
The heroic warrior laughed and folded his arms, casually tapping his phone against his side. “This isn’t it is it? Nine? Ten Scabs and you two? Come on Barons, I get that you’ve been having some bad days since I showed up–but this is hardly an inconveniencing, let alone a full-on doom.”
“We’ll see about that!” Trip von Vanderhoff roared as electricity crackled over his hands. “Scabs! Destroy Drew Beet!”
Casting hesitant looks to each other at first, the overwhelming rule of their master compelled them forth. With bladed weapons that glowed orange along their edges to burn through metal and flesh alike, they leaped into battle with grim intent.
All brave Drew Beet had to meet them was his smartphone, which he raised in front with the screen out.
“Beetle Blast!”
The screen flashed to life; the image of a metallic blue Rhinoceros Beetle appeared before leaping off the screen. Expanding to a size larger than Drew Beet, the metallic Rhinoceros Beetle passed over him and vanished in a flash–leaving him adorned in metallic blue armor with black and gunmetal gray plates and circuitry beneath and on the inner areas of his armor. Upon his head, his face-covering helmet in the shape of the Rhinoceros Beetle flashed its red visor like-eyes. The Blue Stingerborg had arrived!
Van von Vanderhoff recoiled. “Oh no he transformed!”
Trip von Vanderhoff slapped his brother upside his helmeted head. “That was the whole point doofus!”
“Right!” Van von Vanderhoff reasserted himself as the Scabs reached Drew Beet.
The blue armored hero quickly drew a black and silver pistol from the holster on his right leg. Twirling it up, he entered 0-1-9 into the keypad on the side of the gun, then pointed it at the charging Scabs.
“Take this!” He called out and fired off bursts of brilliant yellow lasers, hitting and destroying each Scab before they could get within three steps of him. Sparks, smoke, and bits of metal flew as the sinister cyborgs were swiftly slain.
Trip von Vanderhoff let loose a sneer and slapped his brother’s back, shoving him forward. “Rrr… go get him!”
Roaring, Van von Vanderhoff leaped towards Drew Beet, his hulking body skimming the ground and broad green cape billowing behind him.
The bigger von Vanderhoff sibling took his sword and raised it above his head. “I’m going to cut you down to size nerd!”
The Blue Stingerborg met this threat with a laugh. “Did you get bigger, Van?”
With a mighty downward swing, Van von Vanderhoff missed by an embarrassing margin, and found his arm caught and locked by Drew Beet.
“Hey, let go-ohhh!” Drew Beet ignored his wailing and swung him around faster than he attacked and threw him into the ground. An explosion of dirt and rocks followed, leaving Van von Vanderhoff’s feet sticking from the bottom of the crater his body made, kicking helplessly at the sky.
“… Because this is the hardest you’ve fallen yet!” He turned to face Trip von Vanderhoff and pointed his trusted Input Magnum at the villain. “It’s over, Vanderdork.”
Despite the ease that Drew Beet defeated his minions and brother, Trip von Vanderhoff’s lips split into a sickening grin. Electricity crackled up and down his arms, and he held them out inviting Drew Beat to shoot him. “It’s only just started, Drew Beet!”
From around the tree Princess Heather was bound to, a barrage of six missiles shrieked towards Drew Beat, their tail-like trails of smoke lashing the air on their converging flight to their target. The rockets connected, the blast pressing Princess Heather against the tree despite Trip von Vanderhoff using his body and open lab coat to shield her from the worst of it.
“Drew Beet!” Princess Heather cried out, before heavy, metallic foot falls drew her attention to her right.
Her despair turned to horror at the sight of a powerful, heavily armored humanoid robot that towered over even Van von Vanderhoff. Painted army green, with splashes of red and black, it had a blank, vented face with two yellow eyes that flashed brightly in the lingering smoke caused by its attack. On its left shoulder, smoke wisped from a six-tube missile launcher, while the two-tube launcher on the right flexed and targeted the center of the smoke.
Trip von Vanderhoff’s laughter rose above the sudden silence of the forest. “Behold my most powerful warrior to date, Princess! The Mean Green Cannon Machine… Death Launcher!”
He turned to face her, as she beheld the awful weapons on Death Launcher. “With a single salvo of its weapons, it’s enough to destroy armies, and as you saw… it was more than a match for Drew Beet!”
Heather looked towards the fire and smoke, tears filling her eyes. “… Drew Beet…”
Trip von Vanderhoff laughed harder. “I’ve done it, in a single blow I’ve defeated the Blue Stingerborg!”
Now nothing stood in his way to claim his throne and let his vile laugh ring across the kingdom as the new age of darkness was ushered in!
“If you thought that was funny?” Drew Beet asked, cutting Trip von Vanderhoff’s laughter into an angry gasp. Death Launcher prepared for combat, its yellow eyes flashing red.
Suddenly the Blue Stingerborg leaped high from the smoke, the sunlight above gleaming off his armor–and the nano-thin edge of the Stinger Blade equipped over his right arm.
“You should see the look on your face!”
Princess Heather gasped for joy as Trip von Vanderhoff roared. “Death Launcher! KILL HIM!”
Death Launcher obeyed and from both his shoulder launchers, eight missiles fired towards the airborne Beetleborg.
Drew Beet brought up the Input Magnum in his left hand, aimed, and fired. Narrow red beams caught the first two missiles before they could get close and they exploded, the blasts catching four of the others, leaving just two to pass through the expanding flame and smoke to their target.
“Hi-yah!” Drew Beet swung the electrically charged blade, cleaving through both missiles as he passed them. Landing in a kneel with his arm blade held to his side, he chuckled before the bisected missiles exploded safely behind him, casting him in a black silhouette.
“Curses!” Trip von Vanderhoff shouted.
Death Launcher was already on it, raising his arms and opening fire with the twin machine cannons equipped over his wrists at Drew Beet. The Beetleborg was no easy target, springing to his feet and going left from the high velocity rounds ripping up the ground in his wake and shattering the trees. A few rounds even glanced off his armor with sparks and flashes, but it didn’t slow him down
“Time to finish this!” Drew Beet’s Stinger Blade began to spin, starting slowly but building speed until it looked like a solid glowing cone of electric blue light.
Drew Beet weaved in between the bursts of bullets and rushed closer, passing under more missiles that Death Launcher fired at him.
Trip von Vanderhoff gasped. “This isn’t possible, how can he get so close?!”
Drew Beet reached his target. “Because your guy isn’t equipped to take me on!”
In a single swing he decided it. The spinning Stinger Blade tore through Death Launcher’s torso, halving the deadly robot at the waist. Turning around in Drew Beet swung upward, cutting Death Launcher vertically and fully quartering the monster mechanoid. Sparking and sputtering, Death Launcher’s pieces fell forward and exploded.
Turning his back to the explosion, he struck a pose. “You shouldn’t have brought a gun to a sword fight!”
“I… how can this be?!” Trip von Vanderhoff shouted.
When Drew Beet turned back to him, he recoiled with a squeak
“As for you!” The heroic Blue Stingerborg charged, the no-longer spinning blade sweeping through the air towards Trip von Vanderhoff.
The cowardly baron declined partaking in a taste of his blade and dove out of the way by bare centimeters. The blade missed Princess Heather by an even smaller margin, but not the chains binding her to the tree.
As Her Highness was freed, Drew Beet turned to face the belligerent brothers with blade ready. Trip von Vanderhoff was scrambling pull Van von Vanderhoff out of the ground.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Had enough Vanderdorks?” He asked
“Yes please,” a dazed Van von Vanderhoff mumbled.
Trip von Vanderhoff was overwhelmed with anger, but it paled in the face of his fear. “You may have won this time, but the Magnavores will have their day, loser!”
Dragging his brother to his feet, Trip von Vanderhoff nodded and both brothers vanished in a sheet of flame. Satisfied with their cowardice, Drew Beet dispersed his trusted Stinger Blade–just in time to be embraced by the grateful Princess.
“Drew Beet, you saved us all!” She hugged his arm. “You’re the greatest!”
The Beetleborg looked at her and for a moment stared at the beautiful, but approachable princess of blemish-free fair skin, green eyes like fresh fields of grass, and blonde hair like the morning sun.
“Princess,” he said with all the chivalry he could muster. “You have nothing more to fear, now that-”
“Oh my gosh, is that another girl for Blue Beet?”
@@@@@
Andrew “Drew” McCormick was dragged out of the pages of the latest in the hit comic book series: Big Bad Beetleborgs, and back to reality. He looked up from the table he sat at, standing beside him was a tomboy wearing red coveralls and a white shirt, with hair a darker shade of brown than his own.
His younger sister Josephine “Jo” McCormick shook her head, her long hair done in twin-tails wagging from side to side. “I swear, Art Fortunes must be running out of ideas if he’s resorting to this.”
The very insinuation was offensive. “Come on Jo. Just because this is what, the third-”
“Fifth.”
“-Female character he’s introduced inside a year doesn’t mean he’s running out of ideas and resorting to cheap fanservice.”
“Are we reading the same comic? Every other Blue Beet story since the Split-Up Arc began has been him running into some random hot girl, saving her, and then her falling for him.”
“Not every girl! Queen Magna tried to make him her-”
“Love.”
“-Slave so she could conquer the…”
Drew stopped.
Jo’s smirk was insufferable.
He glared at her. “… Multiverse.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Saint Papilia’s evil universe counterpart is just an excuse for him to cater to the Blue Beet/Papilia shippers without actually changing their relationship at all.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with that!” Drew, one of those shippers, asserted loudly.
“Hear-hear!” a few other patrons of the comic shop they were arguing in agreed.
Zoom Comics, a bookstore in the heart of Echo Creek, just down the street from Britta’s Tacos and Echo Creek Park, had opened its doors only a half hour ago and was already a bustling place. Around Drew and Jo, comic and pop culture aficionados were already perusing the extensive stock of comics, manga, novels, figures, movies, and games to offer in the bright, 90s-retro styled main floor of the building decorated wall to wall with everything fiction and fun.
Over behind the counter of the shop, Roland Williams looked towards the shout. The African American teen, wearing a green t-shirt and light blue jeans, finished cashing out a customer and looked over. “Ay, you talking about that new issue?”
“It’s more waifu garbage!” Jo called back.
Roland shrugged his shoulders. “It can’t be helped, I guess. Stories with cute girls are what’s popular these days.”
“It can be helped; Art can write more about Stag and Reddle actually going after Vexor and Jara! Those stories have been good.”
“Nah, that’s just you being on some shipping shit, cuh,” Roland noted.
“You just want Stag and Reddle to pick up where they left off,” Drew pointed out.
“Yeah, where they left off was good, not any of this ‘Oh no, Oppai Dragon is so popular, gotta chase that trend’ crap Art’s doing with Blue.”
Roland narrowed his eyes at Jo. “Now, I know you ain’t mentioning Oppai Dragon in this store.” His tone darkened as he sharply enunciated his next words. “We are trying to run a respectable establishment.”
A shaggy, empty-eyed customer set a stack of graphic novels before Roland. “Hey man, can I get these volumes of Crossed?”
Roland faced him with a bright smile. “Oh, fo’ sho’! You want that in paper or plastic?”
Both Drew and Jo stared at Roland with matching expressions of disgust at his hypocrisy.
Down the counter from where Roland was cashing out the customer, was Zoom Comics’ barista Heather. Every bit as beautiful as when she starred in Drew’s daydreams, the copper blonde brushed off the black apron she wore over her gray t-shirt and blue capris and leaned on the counter. “I like Blue’s Split Up Arc stories, even the ones where he meets girls.”
Drew’s face lit up, and Jo rolled her eyes with a low grumble.
“Really?” He asked.
Heather nodded. “Mr. Fortunes has been drawing the Beetleborgs as a team for almost 25 years; doing something big like splitting the team up gives him a chance to introduce new characters and build up new stories. Also? The girls he’s been drawing are really cute.”
Drew couldn’t stop his smile’s spread. “I know, right?!”
Jo groaned. “Heather please.”
Heather giggled at Jo’s exasperation, before a throaty rumble thundered through the walls and windows of the comic shop. She looked up and out the window, that guttural roar was familiar. Drew, Jo, and Roland looked outside with her.
“That sounds like Nano’s motorcycle and-” Heather stopped when she heard another, much louder engine. “Oh boy, she’s racing Old Man Pines.”
Drew looked at Jo. “How much do you want to bet Nano wins?”
Jo shook her head. “That is a sucker’s bet.”
Outside, the old woman put the bike into a slide perpendicular to the street and the direction she was traveling in–kicking up three trails of smoke from the tires and the boot she used to grind her hog to a halt in front of Zoom Comics’ front door. The SUV’s stop was no less dramatic, pitching into a spin out and sliding into a perfect parallel park just behind the motorcycle. Pedestrians who’d been gawking at the impromptu street race with phones out and shocked murmurs abruptly calmed down when they recognized who was involved and carried on with their business.
Spilling out of the passenger side, pale and shaking, Dipper gripped the door and looked over at Shermie. “Never. Again.”
Shermie, climbing out next, thought it was funny as all get-out. “I see you’ve gotten over your car sickness! Remember when you couldn’t handle backing out of the driveway?”
“I was too scared to be sick!” Dipper snapped back.
Mabel sprang from the SUV and landed, only to bounce up again and throw her hands upward. “That was awesome!”
Misao got out hot on Mabel’s heels and jumped to high five her. “Yes! I love street racing!”
Back inside, Roland did a double take when he spied the twins. “The hell? Oh, now I know he didn’t bring those two, cuh…”
“Who are they?” Drew asked as he watched the two cute girls jumping in celebration, in a trance. Jo was likewise intrigued by the tall, handsome boy wearing a Lumberjack hat in the LA heat trying to get some color back on his face.
While Dipper leaned against the car to catch his breath, Shermie walked around the front of the car to the woman dismounting the motorcycle. Looking up at him, the stout woman smirked. “I’m impressed, you could keep up with me this time.”
“If I didn’t have 430 pounds worth of teenagers weighing me down, I would’ve blown past you Nano,” Shermie said.
Hearing her name, Mabel whirled around like a guard alerted by the clapping of a dummy thick snake’s cheeks.
Unstrapping her helmet, Nano Williams fist bumped Shermie. “Teenagers? Where them grandbabies of yours?”
“NANO!” With Mabel’s cheer, she turned to face her, looked down, then up with widening eyes when she saw the girl coming straight at her with arms open.
“Good lord child, you got big!” Nano blurted before Mabel caught her in a hug big enough to lift her off her feet. “Real big! Look at you!”
“You have no idea how much it’s improved my hug game,” Mabel bragged as Nano returned the embrace.
Soon as Mabel set Nano down, the woman turned to Dipper. “Dipper! Come over here and give your Nano a hug!”
Composed, Dipper came over and gave her a big hug as well. “It’s nice to see you again, Nano.”
“Lord have mercy, what are your parents feeding you two?” Nano pulled back and looked them both over. “And where can I get some recipes?”
Dipper let out a small, embarrassed laugh, and Mabel giggled. Misao joined Mabel’s side and nodded in greeting to the old woman. “Hallo!”
Nano looked down at her. “And you’re… small.”
“And cute,” Mabel added.
“And definitely not one of Sherman’s grandkids.” She looked up at Shermie with narrowing eyes. “I hope.”
“Not unless I left a lonely heart in Berlin,” Shermie mused with a shrug.
Misao bowed. “I’m Misao, Dipper and Mabel saved me from being kidnapped by supervillains.”
Nano looked from Misao to the twins to their grandfather, back to the twins, then down at her again. “Honest to goodness, I believe it. You won’t believe what these two can get up to.”
Shermie patted both Dipper and Mabel on their shoulders. “They’re dang fine kids.”
Smiling proudly, Nano turned and gestured for them to follow her into the shop. “Come on in, Roland’s going to be so thrilled to see you two.”
Mabel grew tense; for the first time since she got here she actually looked nervous. “Uh. Oh. Right. How is Roland…?”
“Who are they?” Jo asked Roland as her gaze lingered on Dipper.
Roland grabbed a box of comics and made his way from behind the counter to stock up on the shelves–or at least pretend to out of sight of the door. He had an expression of discomfort that concerned Drew and Jo as they lagged a bit behind him. Neither of the McCormick siblings had seen these two before.
“Those are Old Man Pines’ grandkids, Dipper and Mabel,” Roland said as he put a shelf of graphic novels between him and the door, “They’re weird and annoying.”
Jo peeked around the shelf, again focusing on Dipper. “They don’t seem weird to me.”
Drew, on the other hand, had his eyes on Mabel and Misao, both girls looked way too cute for them to be weird. “We’ve seen weird and annoying a lot these past few weeks. There’s no way they can be that bad.”
Roland scoffed. “Yeah, they don’t seem weird, but-”
Roland Williams, Age 8.
The Williams Family had been invited to attend a Thanksgiving Dinner at the home of Sherman Pines. The Patriarch of the Pines family rarely held such functions, but his son and his family had come down from Piedmont to spend time with him and when word of it got to Nano, she convinced Shermie to have a party out of it, and he did it with gusto. So now Roland was sitting in an old person’s living room full of people he didn’t know, waiting for Thanksgiving dinner to be served. He didn’t really want to be there, because coming here meant that he had to miss having Thanksgiving with his best friend Drew.
“Roland, sweetie,” his mother, Abbie Williams, called as she led over a pair of twins.
The boy had his nose buried in a book titled “Dr. Crackpot’s Book of the Damned” and didn’t seem particularly interested in the world outside it. The girl was dressed like a pilgrim, carrying a toy blunderbuss, and looked like she was about to explode with excitement the moment she laid eyes on him.
“These are Mr. Pines grandchildren, Dipper and Mabel. Would you be a sweetheart and play with them while we get dinner finished?”
Roland was relieved just to see other kids at this otherwise boring dinner he had to dress nice for. “Sure, Mom!”
“All right, play nice.” Abbie left the sitting room.
Roland watched his mother go, then looked at Dipper. “I’m Roland, do you want to go-?”
Dipper didn’t so much as glance up from his book. “No.”
Roland recoiled a bit, surprised by his sharpness.
Mabel swooped in, taking Roland’s arm. “Oh Dipper’s a putz, don’t worry about him. If you want to go outside, we can play Historically Accurate Thanksgiving!”
Roland was relieved that Mabel seemed normal, but also curious by what she meant. “Historically Accurate…?”
Mabel ushered him to the door. “It’s thanksgiving with a twist! You won’t look at turkey the same ever again…!”
Roland’s expression was haunted as he stopped the story there. “It wasn’t fun, but it was enlightening.”
Drew stared at him, agape. “Wait, she’s the reason you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving anymore.”
“… Yeah…”
Jo shrugged her shoulders. “Thanksgiving is a dumb holiday anyway, so what was so bad about having the grand illusion shattered?”
Roland shook his head bitterly. “She insisted I be the Native American because ‘she already had the pilgrim outfit.’”
Jo stared at Roland with wide eyes, as all the implications hit at once. “Oh.”
Drew looked towards the door, as Nano walked in leading the Pines party. Dipper made a line straight towards the café, where Heather was, while Mabel–after taking a moment to scan the area–led Misao to the manga section.
Nano called. “Roland! Dipper and Mabel are here with their grandfather, come say hi!”
“I’m stocking the X-Men, I’ll be right over!” Roland called back, before lowering his voice for Drew and Jo. “… In like six hours…”
Drew didn’t buy it. “Come on, she was what, 8 years old? You can’t really blame her for something like that, she didn’t know better.”
Roland was ready for that.
“Okay, then there was-”
Roland Williams, Age 10
Roland sighed. A perfectly good motorcycle ride ruined by its destination: Nano had brought him to Shermie Pines’ home to play something called shogi, which meant he was going to be spending the next three hours with his grandkids and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
Being responsible for Thanksgiving being banned in the Williams home aside, the Pines kids weren’t exactly the most sociable people. Dipper barely talked and when he did it was about weird and disturbing stuff–he didn’t even seem interested in comic books. Mabel was the opposite extreme, extroverted and headstrong, but also completely inconsiderate and borderline psychopathic in her pursuit of anything that interested her.
After two years apart, he hoped that they would be better to hang out with, but those were dashed when he found Dipper in the backyard of Shermie’s home, reading a Newspaper titled “The Free Huey World Report” with a headline calling smart home peripherals “DIY Government Wire-Tapping.”
“So…” Roland looked at the newspaper with a mix of concern and optimistic hope. “… I brought over a couple of handhelds; you play?”
“I’ll pass. Handhelds that are always connected to the internet like yours record your voice even when you think you turned off the mic. You should get rid of them.”
It looked like he was going to be an absolute downer. Roland looked around warily. “Where’s your sister…?”
The back patio door crashed open, and out stepped Mabel. She was wearing baggy jean shorts, an oversized basketball jersey, sunglasses, and a baseball cap turned to her right. Around her neck was a handmade paper necklace holding up a paper pendant of yellow letters caked in gold glitter that spelled “MABIZZLE”.
Roland didn’t understand what he was looking at.
Dipper understood exactly what he was looking at.
Both didn’t like it and would like it even less in the next few seconds.
“Ayo! Mabizzle up in the hizzo, fo’ rizzo!” She announced as a generic hiphop beat played behind her. Seeing Roland, she strode up to him all gangsta and junk, and struck a pose. “Aw, it’s mah homie Ro-dawg! Yo, yo, show a girl some love fo’ real? What’s happenin’ my ni-”
“Oh my God!” Jo shouted, cutting Roland off.
Drew was equally shaken. “Okay, that’s bad.”
Roland raised a hand. “In her defense, she said ‘nizzo’, but she acted like that the entire time I was there.”
He turned back to stock to find places to cram comics so he could look busy. “So, I’mma lay low and hope they’re gone by tomorrow. We already got enough dumb shit going on, you feel me?”
Jo and Drew looked over at the manga section again and watched Mabel talking animatedly to Misao while holding up a cute story about dragon maids. Drew hummed and turned back to face Roland. Jo remained on watch, and her gaze drifted back to where Dipper had gone.
“It’s been years though. Maybe they’ve actually changed and they’re not weird?” Drew offered.
“Or maybe they’re weirder than ever.”
“You won’t be sure if you don’t talk to them.”
Jo, not having any of Drew’s hypocritical nonsense, added. “Well, if you don’t want to? Just ask Heather what Dipper’s like–because he’s chatting her up right now.”
Drew nearly gave himself whiplash as he went back to the end of the bookshelf and looked over Jo’s head. “Wait, huh?”