Author’s notes:
This story is not part of my normal universe but is just something fun I
wanted to do. In celebration of Randomhouse republishing Trixie next
year (maybe) and the fact that Golden Books were such buttheads about fan-sites,
I thought I’d write this. It’s in the style of the 1960’s TV show,
“The Avengers.” “The Avengers” was just as corny (if not more) than
Batman with Adam West and Burt Ward. But, I like corny at times.
And, I like “The Avengers.”
Publishers, Lawyers
and
Fan-Fiction, Oh My...
Honey Wheeler was about to settle
down for the night and pick up her novel when she noticed a piece of paper
sticking out of the top. She opened it and pulled out the bookmark.
On it, in neat penmanship, were the words, Miss Wheeler—We’re
needed.
The three-story mansion was quiet.
The last of the servants had gone to bed. All except for Miss Trask
and Robin the cook, who were busy making out next week’s menu.
The large oak bedroom door creaked
as the woman with the honey-blonde hair opened it, tiptoed out and crept
down the grand spiral staircase and through the hallway. Soon, she
was slowly closing the front door.
The night air was cool, but warm
enough that she didn’t feel chilled. She made her way to the Bob-White
Clubhouse to meet a friend. He had information to give her: information
regarding a new organization in Sleepyside.
She hurried as quickly as her black
boots would take her. The door to the clubhouse was standing open and
there didn’t appear to be any lights on. She could only assume that
her friend was waiting for her there.
She reached the doorway and peered
inside. Her friend was sitting at the conference table by dim candlelight,
holding a flute of champagne.
“Miss Wheeler, I thought you’d never
get here,” he said as he lifted the champagne bottle up and poured some into
a glass for her.
The young woman grinned saucily.
“I wouldn’t miss a midnight meeting for the world.” She shut the clubhouse
door, made her way to the conference table and sat down. She noticed
how her partner had been staring at her black leather body suit. “What
information do you have for us, Mr. Belden?”
“Just this,” he said as he handed
her the glass. “Members of FWACLAP are dropping like flies.”
“FWACLAP?”
“Fan-fiction Writers Against Copyright
Lawyers and Publishers.”
“Strange organization if you ask
me,” she said, taking a sip of her champagne. “What is it to us if
they’re losing members? Clubs and organizations like this are given
cease and desist orders every day.”
“Because the organization is being
shut down. The members are leaving involuntarily.” Brian Belden
took a hold of his champagne flute and looked through it to the candle on
the conference table. “But in our case, it’s different. You see,
if fan-fiction writers were given orders to cease and desist, this world
as you and I know it—”
“—Wouldn’t exist,” she finished
for him. “I see what you’re getting at. So where do we investigate
first?”
“Miss Wheeler, I think our first
step will be to pay FWACLAP a visit,” he said as he stood and picked up his
umbrella. “I’m sure we can learn quite a bit from them.”
“So I’ll meet you at my house tomorrow
morning, then.”
Brian nodded. “Out of all
of our assignments, this one might just be the one that makes or breaks us.”
“Cheers, Belden,” Honey said with
a grin and a raised eyebrow as she lifted her champagne flute. “To
fan-fiction writers. We won’t let them down.”
Brian grinned and held up his glass.
“You’d better get back up to your house before someone misses you.”
She set her empty glass back down
on the conference table and winked at him. “Sweet dreams, Mr. Belden.”
With that, she slipped out the clubhouse door and hurried up the grassy slopes
to the Manor House.
********
Brian met Honey down at the bottom
of the long driveway for their trip into town to the Sleepyside branch of
FWACLAP. Dressed in a suit, Brian simply smiled at his honey-haired
partner. She was dressed in a white top, casual brown suede fitted
slacks and jacket to match and white boots, which matched her cap.
They chatted about the fan-fiction writers’ organization and what copyright
lawyers have done so far.
“The picture you’re looking at is
the president of FWACLAP. She’s been missing since three days ago.
The next four pictures are of the four other members who have been missing
since two days ago. These copyright lawyers don’t mean any harm, but
they are serious about others using copyrighted material for fun.”
“Even if it’s not for profit,” Honey
mused as she read through the report. “I see here that the rights for
Trixie Belden have been sold to a new company. How does this effect
fan-fiction and fan sites on the Internet?”
Brian shrugged as he pulled onto
Main Street. “Ironically, it’s made more sites pop up and more fan-fiction
appear. They are still determined to shut these sites down, though.”
“Who’s this gentleman here?” Honey
asked, holding up a picture of a middle-aged man with a mustache and gray
hair. “He looks something of a wealthy businessman for a large corporation,
like a CEO or a President.”
“That is Mr. Witherspoon.
He’s the head copyright lawyer for this publishing company that is trying
to shut down fan sites.”
“He doesn’t look evil,” she commented.
“He looks something like Wilfred Brimley.”
Brian pulled the car into the parking
lot of FWACLAP. “Well, it is Wilfred Brimley. No one really knows
what this copyright lawyer looks like, so everyone’s just agreed that this
is what he should look like.”
Honey stared at the picture for
a second and nodded. “So we go in, we ask questions, find a clue and
away we go, right?”
“I believe that’s how it works,
Miss Wheeler. Shall we go?”
Brian grabbed his umbrella, stepped
out of the car and held the door open for his partner. She shifted
her weight to one leg and crossed her arms as she stared at the crowd that
had gathered around the FWACLAP building.
Honey led the way through the crowd
and into the building to meet the receptionist at the desk.
“Good morning,” she greeted.
“Would it be possible to visit with the vice president of FWACLAP?
We have some questions to ask.”
The receptionist eyed the couple
and put her hand on the phone, but hesitated. “Whom shall I say is
calling?”
“There’s no need,” Brian broke in.
“Ms. Stone is expecting us.”
“I see,” she said and picked up
the phone. “Ms. Stone, people here to see you, ma’am.” She waited
a few seconds and then hung up the phone and looked up to the couple eagerly
awaiting admittance to the Vice President’s office. “You may go ahead,”
she said with a gesture to an office across the room.
“How good of you to come,” said
the well-dressed woman in her mid to late twenties. “I’m very worried
about our president, Mrs. Hudson.”
“And we plan on bringing her back,”
Honey said as she looked around the office. “You say that the kidnappers
left something behind. A clue?”
“Yes,” the vice president answered.
“I’m sure it’s a clue, at least. I didn’t want to do anything until
you got here, Mr. Belden. You see, it’s pretty obvious what it is.”
She held out an envelope.
Brian opened the envelope a bit
to allow Honey to peek in.
“A calling card of sorts,” added
the vice president. “Like I said, I didn’t want to do anything until
you arrived.”
Honey took the envelope from her
partner and dumped its contents out on the desk. Ms. Stone had correctly
identified the item. It was a piece of paper with a phone number on
it.
“What do you suggest, Mr. Belden?”
Ms. Stone asked worriedly.
Brian looked from the phone number
to Honey and back to Ms. Stone. “I suggest we call this number.”
“Copyright Lawyers and Publishers
Against Fan-fiction, otherwise known as CLAPAF. Can I help you?” greeted
a woman’s voice after he dialed the number.
“Yes, I’d like to speak with Mr.
Witherspoon,” Brian said over the phone. “Tell him an old friend is
calling.”
“Just one moment, sir,” said the
voice on the other end of the line.
Honey raised her eyebrow and slightly
grinned. “Old friend?”
“We go way back,” he answered.
“Yes Mr. Witherspoon, Brian Belden here.”
Honey spied a file cabinet in the
back of the room. With the receptionist’s permission, she headed for
it and opened the top drawer.
“Yes, we’ve gotten word that you’ve
paid FWACLAP a visit recently,” Brian said into the phone.
Honey flipped through the files.
“This must be code,” she said softly to herself. “Jix...em...i...tri?
Zap? TOS? Curious.” She carefully opened the Jixemitri
file and found different folders inside with all sorts of names written on
the tabs.
Brian continued with the phone call.
“Yes, it seems you left us your phone number pretty much telling us to call
you. So, dear friend, we’d like to know the condition of five people
who’ve been missing for over twenty-four hours. I wouldn’t suppose
you’d know anything about it, would you?”
Honey pulled a story out of one
of the folders and raised an eyebrow at the title and quickly put it back.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. Next she pulled out a different
folder and pulled a story out of it.
“We’re well aware of that, Mr. Witherspoon.
You own us and that is why we want to meet with you. What would you
say to a meeting in about an hour?” He paused for a few seconds.
“Splendid!” He hung up the phone and headed to the back of the room
where his partner was rifling through the files. She seemed to be very
into one of the files. In fact, she appeared to be...blushing.
“We have a meeting with Mr. Witherspoon
in an hour,” he said as he looked at his watch.
“Wonderful. Do you think we
should bring some of this along? I don’t think they realize the talent
these people have!”
“Let’s have a look,” he said as
he pulled a file out of one of the folders. “Interesting,” he said
as he raised an eyebrow. “What was it that you were reading just now?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said quickly
and threw the story back in the folder and put it away.
Mr. Belden smiled knowingly.
“Must’ve been pretty steamy, my dear. You’re blushing!”
“Your cheeks have a certain rosy
quality as well, Belden. I wouldn’t talk if I were you, you know.”
She leaned over and caught a glimpse of a certain steamy scene between herself
and Brian.
Mr. Belden cleared his throat.
“We’d better be moving, Miss Wheeler. We have only forty minutes.”
********
The investigative team arrived at
CLAPAF in time. The receptionist showed them to Mr. Witherspoon’s office
and let them in. He was just as his picture portrayed him. It
was Wilfred Brimley.
“Why Brian Belden! Long time
no see!” the man said pleasantly and stood up to shake hands. “And
Honey Wheeler! You look simply gorgeous!”
“Thank you, Mr. Witherspoon,” Honey
said with a slight grin. “But that’s not why we’re here. Belden?”
“What would it take for you to release
Mrs. Hudson and the other hostages?” Mr. Belden said as he made himself comfortable
in the leather chair across the desk from Mr. Witherspoon. Honey remained
standing.
“What would it take? Why,
FWACLAP shutting down, that’s all. They are infringing on our copyrights.”
“Ah, but technically they are not,”
Brian countered. “You see, none of these fan-fiction authors are making
money from their stories. In fact, many of them are paying money to
host websites on the Internet. I’d hardly say that they are infringing
on anything.”
Mr. Witherspoon chuckled and played
with his mustache. “Technically, Mr. Belden, you are a fictional character
and belong in a box. But that will be dealt with at a later date.”
He paused to glance up at Honey. “Miss Wheeler, you have some pull
with the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency. Why don’t you talk to your
friend, Trixie Belden, and see if you can solve this problem. I’ll
make it worth your while.” He held out a thick stack of bills.
“I’ll double it if you succeed.”
“Very enticing, Mr. Witherspoon,”
Honey said taking the money from him and smacking him on the forehead with
it. “But it won’t work. You see, Trixie and I are not partners
in all universes. If I were to succeed in shutting down at least the
traditional writers, non-traditionalists would still be there. I’m
surprised you didn’t think of that.”
“You see, this is also one reason
why I want FWACLAP shut down. Non-traditionalism.”
“There’s nothing wrong with non-traditionalism,
Mr. Witherspoon,” Brian said. “It adds spice...seasoning if you will.
It’s like taking a break from the same old grape wine and trying something
different, like plum or strawberry wine.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, Mr. Witherspoon, obviously
we can’t help you there. Now how about turning those hostages over
to us?”
“Certainly not, Mr. Belden!” Mr.
Witherspoon shouted. “Not until FWACLAP shuts down!”
Brian sighed and stood up.
“Then we must be on our way. Good day, Mr. Witherspoon.”
“Good day, Belden and Wheeler.
Ha! Most intriguing! A new twist on the Belden-Wheeler agency!”
“Most intriguing,” Honey agreed.
“Why don’t you write a fan-fiction about it. Good day.”
Brian held the door for Honey as
they exited the building. “I just love the way you turned his words
around on him. You never know, he might just write that story.”
“I have a hard time picturing Belden-Wheeler
being anything but Trixie and I,” said Honey. “But, I’m pretty much
open to anything.”
As she said this, Brian eyed a sign
that hung in the window. It read Administrative Assistant
wanted. Please apply inside. He swung his umbrella around and
pointed to the sign. “Would you be open to a new job?”
Honey grinned and folded her arms.
“Not at all, Belden. Not at all.”
********
“Congratulations, Miss Radcliffe,”
Mr. Witherspoon said as he stood and shook the tall, slender, blonde girl’s
hand. “Your training can start this afternoon if you like. Our
receptionist will be here until the office closes.”
“Great!” Honey replied as she adjusted
her thick black-rimmed glasses and fluffed her blonde wig. “I’m dying
to start!”
He pushed the button on his intercom.
“Miss Taylor, can you come in here for a second?”
“Yes, Mr. Witherspoon.” A
minute later she was standing at Miss Radcliffe’s side.
“Miss Taylor, this is Miss Radcliffe.
She will begin her training right away.”
“Right this way, Miss Radcliffe,”
said the receptionist with a wide grin.
Honey’s first job was to file a
large stack of papers. As she did this, she kept her ears and eyes
open for any hint or clue of Mrs. Hudson’s whereabouts. Mr. Witherspoon
called Miss Taylor to his office. As she shut the office door behind
her, Honey hurried over and pressed her ear against the door to hear what
was being said.
“I didn’t like the idea of kidnapping
to begin with, Mr. Witherspoon,” said the receptionist. “Now it seems
that we can’t back out of it.”
“We can’t let them go,” he answered.
“Once we do, more Internet sites will pop up and more fan-fiction will be
written. We have to show these rebels that we aren’t people to mess
with.”
“Let’s at least come to an agreement,”
she said quickly.
“I’m willing to cooperate if they
are. This fan-fiction business has got to stop. I’m going to
call FWACLAP. Their office opens at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.
If their doors remain locked, I will release Mrs. Hudson and her five hostages.”
As Honey listened, her eyes got
big. Seven tomorrow.
I’ve got to tell Belden tonight.
********
When Brian Belden arrived at the
clubhouse that night, Honey Wheeler was already waiting for him with tea
just the way he liked it; cream, no sugar, and stirred counter-clockwise.
"There will be a switch tomorrow
morning at seven o’clock," she said, handing Brian his tea.
"The deal?"
"FWACLAP has to close down and Mr.
Witherspoon will release the hostages."
"Seems rather simple, but I don’t
see that happening. FWACLAP is a very determined group. They ignore threats
made by publishing companies and copyright lawyers." Brian took a sip
of his tea and sat down at the conference table. Have you thought about letting
everyone else in on this?"
"I don’t see why we should, Belden,"
said Honey with a flip of her hair. "You and I can do this ourselves and
when we’ve taken care of matters, as we usually do, we’ll just secretly slip
back into being the Bob-Whites of the Glen."
Brian thought for a minute and then
grinned. "What would you say to a different tactic, though, Miss Wheeler?
Different than what we normally do?"
"Such as?"
"Why, Miss Wheeler, you’re going
to be a hostage this time."
Honey raised her eyebrows and folded
her arms. "Hostage?"
"Yes."
"And so what will you be doing while
I’m playing helpless?" Honey wondered.
Brian finished his tea and set it
back down on the table. "I have a few costume changes in mind."
********
It was six o’clock in the morning.
Honey peeked in through a dusty window in the back of the CLAPAF office.
The room was dark except for the hallway light that shined in through the
door, where a guard stood. Honey waited until the guard stepped away
for a minute before she slid the window open and hoisted herself inside.
The four hostages looked up at her with excitement, but remained quiet at
her warning. Quickly, she pulled a gag out of her pocket and loosely tied
it around her head. Next she found a chair and wrapped her arms around
the back just like the rest of the hostages were tied. She was in time, too,
for the guard returned to his post a second later.
Meanwhile, up at the front of the
CLAPAF offices, Brian kept an eye on the guard at the front door. He
gingerly sneaked up to him and tapped him on the left shoulder. When he looked
at his left, Brian pulled back his fist, ready for when the guard looked
back over to his right. A second later, Brian’s knuckles stung and the guard
lay on the ground. Next he aimed the tip of his umbrella in the guard’s
face and released a gas that would knock him out for a while. Long
enough, anyway, for Brian to make a quick costume change and tie the guard
up.
Honey watched as the guard turned
to stare menacingly at the hostages and then turned back around again.
He hadn’t noticed the extra hostage. Without a sound, Honey took her
gag off and withdrew a small Walther PP .380 from her belt, crept up to the
guard and pressed the cold metal barrel up against the back of his head.
“Not a sound,” she whispered as
she pressed harder. “Untie them. Now.”
The guard obeyed her orders.
Honey kept watch on both the doorway and the guard, making sure he was doing
as he was told. The hostages remained silent as she then grabbed rope
and handed it to Mrs. Hudson.
She pursed her lips. “Here,
tie him up.” As Mrs. Hudson was tying the guard up, who was still being
held at gunpoint, Honey wandered over to the doorway and peeked down the
hall. She quickly jerked her head back as the guard down at the end
of the hallway saw her and came running.
She hid in the shadows as he appeared
at the doorway. He seemed to forget that he had seen someone when he
saw the empty chairs and his fellow guard tied up. As he ran for the
other guard, Honey tripped him and instantly jumped on top of him, digging
her knee into his back. This time, all the hostages acted quickly in
stuffing a gag in his mouth and tying his hands.
Brian straightened his uniform he
had stolen from the guard at the front door. He straightened his hat
and stood tall and proud, as if he worked there. He stole a quick glance
down at his watch and noticed that it was only fifteen minutes to seven.
Mr. Witherspoon should be leaving for FWACLAP any minute.
Miss Taylor’s intercom buzzed.
It was her boss, Mr. Witherspoon.
“Alert the guards. I want
to take the hostages over to FWACLAP.”
“Yes, Mr. Witherspoon,” she answered
and headed for the back of the office where a door lead to a hallway.
Honey had heard the intercom and
alerted the hostages. One by one, she helped them through the window.
“Hurry over to FWACLAP and wait
for Belden and me,” she hissed.
Mrs. Hudson protested. “But
there’ll be more guards. Won’t you need help?”
“Don’t worry about us, Mrs. Hudson.
An office this small won’t have many more guards than what we’ve already
seen. Just go. Hurry!”
Honey was in time, too. Just
as she shut the window, Miss Taylor stepped in through the doorway.
“Miss Wheeler, I knew we hadn’t heard the last from you and Mr. Belden,”
she said as she faced off with Honey. She wasn’t dressed in her usual
business attire. She was dressed similar to Honey; only her cat suit
was a stark white color and Honey’s was black.
“Did you honestly think we would
leave and let you run our lives? We’ve got many authors around the
world doing that for us.” Honey pulled her small gun from her pocket
again. “If it were up to you, we wouldn’t be doing anything at all.”
“The Miss Wheeler we know wouldn’t
use a gun,” Miss Taylor said looking Honey over.
Honey merely smiled and pulled the
action back on her compact automatic handgun. “You must be talking
about the old Honey, the one who is still afraid of spiders and snakes.
I’m sorry,” she continued. “She hasn’t surfaced since Book One ended.
She got over that phase in her life. She’s on to bigger and better
things.”
Miss Taylor ignored the gun.
Instead she laughed and sat down on a stool against the wall, pushing a red
square button on the wall just in front of her. The wall opened up
and revealed a gray box-like computer. Next she picked up a small reel-to-reel
and held it in front of Honey’s face. “Miss Wheeler, do you know what
this is? This is Trixie Belden as we know it. I have the power
to delete every bit of data on here.”
“You wouldn’t,” Honey said as she
raised the gun. “You delete that and your world will disappear, too.”
“That’ll be a risk I’ll have to
take,” Miss Taylor said as she popped reel in place on the computer.
Honey watched in horror as the woman pushed a blinking yellow button on the
computer. A message appeared on the small screen: DELETE DATA? YES
NO
Miss Taylor had her finger on the
green blinking button. “You see, Miss Wheeler, we were going to be
nice and cooperate. But it looks as if we have to resort to Plan B:
Getting rid of you forever.”
Honey stared at her in disbelief.
She could feel her whole existence fading away as if Miss Taylor had already
pushed that button. She stood frozen in her tracks. Of all the
sticky situations she had ever been in, she had never been faced with the
possibility of deletion.
Brian glanced through the front
window and noticed Miss Taylor wasn’t at her desk, so he picked the lock
and entered the office. He was about to walk past the receptionist’s
desk to the door in the back of the office, when Mr. Witherspoon’s voice
came over the intercom.
“Miss Taylor? Are you at your
desk?”
Brian cleared his throat.
“Yes,” he said into the intercom in his highest false setto voice.
“What is the situation on those
hostages?”
“They’re doing just fine, sir,”
Brian said. “Everything’s fine in there.”
“Good. It’s time to contact
FWACLAP. Call Mrs. Stone the vice president and let her know what we’re
willing to do.”
“Yes sir,” Brian said and let go
of the intercom button.
Honey broke out of her trance and
realized her hand with the gun in it had fallen. Quickly, she raised
it again. “I still wouldn’t do it, Miss Taylor. There is too
much at stake for you to just delete everything. Lives are at stake
here, and not just yours or mine.”
“Actually, I’d be creating lives
by deleting these data. This way, fan-fiction authors would get off
their butts and do something with themselves.” Miss Taylor held her
finger right on the delete button. “Unless you and Mr. Belden can convince
FWACLAP to shut their doors and stop these fan fiction sites from popping
up, the delete button gets pushed.”
Honey cocked her head to the side.
“You’re gravely mistaken, Miss Taylor. Fan-fiction is only a hobby.
None of these authors are getting paid for this. It’s just a fun thing
for them to do.”
“I’m afraid you are the one who’s
mistaken, Miss Wheeler,” Miss Taylor countered as she withdrew a .38 revolver
from her belt. “Mr. Witherspoon and I have tried to be nice about this.
But, it looks as if we’re getting nowhere with you.”
Honey backed away, her handgun still
ready to fire. “You’ll never get away with this, Miss Taylor.
Trixie fans will come looking for you if you pull the rug out from underneath
them and delete everything. Many of them have grown up reading those
books. You can’t just delete part of their history.”
“They’ll never know what hit them,”
she answered and pulled back the hammer on her revolver. “Now drop
your gun.”
“You first,” Honey countered.
“I’m in no mood for games, Miss
Wheeler. Drop it or I’ll shoot.”
“I should’ve pulled the trigger
when I had the chance,” Honey said as she lowered her gun, but not her guard.
Miss Taylor chuckled cynically.
“You don’t have the guts.”
Brian headed through the door in
the back of the office, but stopped when he heard voices; one of them was
Honey’s. She was talking with Miss Taylor. Instantly he was grabbed
from behind, dragged into the main office and thrown up against the wall.
He hit the wall so hard, he dropped his umbrella—his only weapon. He
shook his head and focused on his assailant. He was a tall, dark-haired,
muscular man who wore a black turtleneck and black slacks.
Brian ducked as the tall man swung
and landed a blow to the man’s jaw, sending him back a few steps. The
man reached up to massage his jaw, where he had been hit and glared at Brian.
Within seconds, the two men were grappling, throwing each other around the
office. Brian sent the man across Miss Taylor’s desk, sending papers
flying and knocking the phone down. The man retaliated by picking up
her office chair and hurling it at Brian, who ducked.
Once again, the two men locked up
in an old fashioned fight, wrestling each other to the ground. Brian’s
only advantage was that he was quicker than the large man, and therefore
able to escape being throttled by large hands.
Miss Taylor continued to hold Honey
at gunpoint as she removed herself from the computer and moved to the center
of the room. They could hear the fighting out in the other room but
neither one reacted. Both women concentrated on each other, mindful
of what the other might do next.
“Drop the gun, Miss Wheeler,” Miss
Taylor demanded. Honey obeyed. The secretary stooped to pick
up the gun when an office chair came flying into the hallway. Miss
Taylor jumped, creating a window of opportunity for Honey to retrieve her
handgun.
In one swift motion Honey dove for
the gun, knocking Miss Taylor down and causing her to drop her revolver.
Miss Taylor kicked out with her leg and knocked the Walther from Honey’s
hand, sending it sailing across the floor.
Honey took immediate action by lunging
at the secretary. With arms and legs flailing in a blur of black and
white, both women fought and delivered blows to each other’s sides.
Miss Taylor had pounced on Honey, grabbing her by the hair, but Honey countered
with a black boot to the other woman’s chest and pushed her into the stool
she had been sitting on earlier.
Miss Taylor unwrapped herself from
around the stool and started to stand up. Honey lunged forward as she
saw the other woman’s hands were dangerously close to the blinking green
light.
The tall man hefted Brian up and
slammed him down on the secretary’s desk, sending whatever was still left
on it to the floor with the rest of the paper and supplies. He stood
up to find the tall man charging towards him. As he lunged forward
in an attempt to tackle, Brian ducked, causing the man soar above him and
crash into a filing cabinet, knocking it over.
The collision didn’t seem to faze
the tall, muscular man as he stood up and once more charged towards Brian,
who had taken a few steps back during the spectacle. The tall man pinned
Brian up against the wall, sending quick, sharp blows to his sides.
Brian’s eyes widened as he saw a giant fist come towards him at eye level.
Quickly, he ducked and the man’s fist punched a hole in the wall. Given
the advantage now, Brian landed a series of lefts and rights up and down
the tall man’s sides and a few on his jaw.
A bit of sheet rock had fallen down
inside the wall, trapping the man’s hand for momentarily. Brian took
advantage of this and grabbed another one of the office chairs and hurled
it at him. It seemed to bounce off the man as if he was a robot.
In fact, Brian Belden began to wonder whether or not this man was really
human or not.
After forcefully tugging at his
arm, the large man managed to slip from the wall and stalked toward Brian
again. He picked up the secretary’s chair and threw it at Brian, but
missed and it sailed out the front window, shattering the glass. Brian
ran to pick up the last chair and held it out like a lion tamer would.
Suddenly, Mr. Witherspoon’s office
door swung open. “That’ll be enough, Raul,” he bellowed and the tall
man stopped. “Mr. Belden, you’ve put up quite a fight. I’m proud
of you.”
“I’ve been in worse, but that’s
a different universe,” Brian said. He still kept an eye on the tall
man who stopped at Mr. Witherspoon’s words.
The guards sat helpless as they
watched the two women battle it out in their own duel, switching back and
forth between wrestling each other, karate chopping, and boxing. After
Honey sent Miss Taylor crashing into the empty chairs previously used by
the hostages, she found the opportunity to grab the reels from the computer,
saving Trixie Belden from these monsters. Honey spun around, fully
expecting Miss Taylor to be behind her with revolver in hand, but instead,
found her still laying on the floor, underneath the chairs trying to catch
her breath.
Without a word, she snatched her
Walther PP .380 and left with reel in hand. As she entered the main
office, she found Brian holding a chair with it’s legs out towards a very
big, tall man, and could hear Mr. Witherspoon’s voice.
“We will let you go this time, Mr.
Belden,” Mr. Witherspoon said. “Just keep in mind that we mean business
when it comes to copyrights, and the infringements thereof. Remember
that cash incentive still stands if you talk with FWACLAP and we’ll release
those hostages.”
“No need, Mr. Witherspoon,” Honey
said aloud as she entered the room. “Mrs. Hudson and her friends are
back at their office, safe and sound.”
Mr. Witherspoon glared at her.
“You may have gotten me this time, Belden, but next time I will win, and
I don’t intend to be as forgiving about it as I am now.”
“Why would you win?” Brian asked
as Honey joined him at his side. “Looks like you don’t own the rights
to Trixie Belden anymore.”
Mr. Witherspoon’s mouth dropped
open as he eyed the reel. “That doesn’t belong to you!” he shouted.
“It does now,” Honey said as she
led the way out the office door. “Unless, of course, you made copies.
You did make copies, right?”
Mr. Witherspoon remained silent,
cursing himself for not making copies, and watched as the couple left the
office.
********
Honey and Brian gathered around
Mrs. Hudson’s desk with Ms. Stone and one of the other hostages. Honey
held the reel out for Mrs. Hudson to take. “This was recovered from
CLAPAF and means the very existence of Trixie Belden. I can’t think
of anyone better to hang on to it than the fans. After all, you’re
the people keeping the series going.”
Brian nodded. “Well said,
Miss Wheeler. And you won’t have to worry about Mr. Witherspoon or
CLAPAF coming after you any more since he never made copies of this and can’t
rightly claim it now. Finder’s keepers, Mrs. Hudson, if you get my
drift. Miss Wheeler fought good and hard to retrieve this.”
Mrs. Hudson sat at her desk in awe.
“The rights to Trixie Belden? I simply couldn’t! I mean, we’re
just fan-fiction writers. We’re not getting paid. I…I simply
couldn’t be responsible for looking out for this. It’s like the Holy
Grail of Trixie Belden!”
Honey resisted the urge to giggle
at Mrs. Hudson’s words. “We’ll let you and your staff figure out what
you want done with it. The future of Sleepyside is in your hands, Mrs.
H. Treat us well.”
“I will,” Mrs. Hudson said suddenly,
accepting the reel with a smile this time. It seemed as if her nervousness
and uncertainty had left and had been replaced with confidence. “We
have many, many authors who know just how to do that. Thank you, Miss
Wheeler and Mr. Belden!” She lifted the reels to her heart and smiled
at the couple, her eyes glistening.
Brian tipped his hat at the lady
and crooked his arm out for Honey, who gingerly took a hold of it, and gently
led her out the door and to the car.
********
Honey pulled a red carnation from
the centerpiece on the conference table in the clubhouse. “I think
we handled things quite well,” she said as she used her nails to snip the
flower from the stem and poke it through Brian’s lapel on his suit coat.
Brian smiled at her, lifted a bottle
of champagne from the silver ice bucket and tore at the golden foil around
the cork. “All in a day’s work, Miss Wheeler,” he said as he quickly
gave her a peck on the cheek. “Besides, we owe it to the fan-fiction
writers out there who wrack their brains as they write us into all sorts
of situations and universes.” With a loud bang, the cork shot out of
the bottle and was followed by a long stream of foamy champagne.
“Which reminds me, Belden, what
have you planned for the rest of the evening? There’s going to be a
picnic down at the boathouse this afternoon.”
Brian swallowed his sparkly drink
and grinned sheepishly at her. “To tell you the honest truth, I have
a date soon. One of the authors needs me and I have a date with someone
from their universe. Perhaps a rain check?”
Honey smiled rather cat-like.
“No rain check needed, Belden. I’ll be having fun as well after the
picnic.”
“Are you going to crash someone’s
date? Chase after Mart? Snoop around with Trixie as you look
for a new mystery?” Brian sipped more of his drink. “Perhaps
you’ll hang around the stables in hopes that Regan will, by chance, give
you another riding lesson? Or maybe Nick Roberts, since you seemed
to have an eye on him in a few stories.”
Honey merely winked at him and sipped
her champagne. “I will do nothing of the sort,” she said. “I
have a date with an axe, wood, and the game preserve patrol.”
The End
Author’s
notes:
This story is
dedicated to all the fan-fiction writers and readers who keep Trixie Belden
alive. Sure Trixie Belden and all characters affiliated with the series
are all owned by Golden (or is it Randomhouse???) and generally used without
permission, but she remains in our hearts for life and no “cease and desist”
letter could take that away from us. (I’m feeling a “Princess Bride”
moment coming on… You know, “You can’t break it, not with a thousand
swords. You can’t track it, not with a hundred blood-hounds…”)
A very big Bob-White
thank you goes out to Eric and Long Island Lisa. Eric for his suggestions on Honey’s
weapon and a bit of education about automatic handguns, and Lisa for proofreading
this and not telling me it’s too corny to post.
Aside from
not having any permission to use Trixie Belden and characters, I also didn’t
have the permission of whoever was responsible for The Avengers to base this
story on it. The Avengers is a show that I took a liking to, even if
it is corny. That explains Brian’s umbrella, and Honey’s cat suit,
and as a general rule, there was absolutely no dialogue during the fight
scenes in the original TV show. I tried to get this as close to that
show as possible. If you’ve never seen an episode of it, treat yourself
to something that’s corny and laughable. It’s like Batman…It’s not
meant to be taken seriously.