Secret Co-Author Project: MetaJoy (Patreon)

Howdy folks,

Currently, I'm editing Symphony 4, writing QuestWright 3, plotting/planning SYLWM (Support Your Local War Mage), and also co-authoring a new story called MetaJoy.

I know that sounds like too much, but here's how my scheduling works out.

I edit Symphony on my lunch breaks. The moment #4 is done, which I'm flying through surprisingly fast, I start editing QuestWright 1 + 2 while adding in the between-chapters required to split the book. SYLWM won't start punching into RR until QuestWright 3 is completely finished. That'll likely be summer.

As for MetaJoy, this is a completely experimental story. I was working with my mentee, Shawn DePasquale (hell of an author), and we started talking about theory books. I came to realize that what I was bad at, he was great at, and vice versa. So what would happen if we both worked on a story?

The way it works is: I write a chapter, he edits, I edit his edits, he does a final run-through, voila, chapter. Second chapter: he writes; I edit; he edits my edits; I do a final run-through. By alternating whose writing which chapters, we take a bit of the burden off each other and get to share random, explosive ideas.

MetaJoy is going to be unlike anything I've ever written. For once, I'm going to throw several rules I follow when writing out the window. It's designed as a standalone novel, with the potential for a sequel. But still, we've got some cool and pretty wacky ideas going here.

Anyways, here's the first chapter. Don't expect the second or third anytime soon; it takes a while to build up. It...won't be what you expect.

Chapter 0: A Hero is Born (and Dies…)

“Please don’t be cynical. I hate cynicism — it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.”

-Conan O’Brien

If you asked anyone, they’d tell you the same thing. Craig Arbor was a friendly, smart, tough guy. He’d done his years in the Navy, served his term honorably, and had a pretty normal lifestyle with evenings spent playing Battlefield. He’d even gotten a job fixing up car engines at a local shop. 

Overall, Craig was a pretty lucky guy.

Sure, his girlfriend had left him, and even left her dog, Muffin, behind. But that wasn’t enough to get him down, even if the damned thing was always getting on his nerves.

“Lord bless it, Muffin,” Craig grumbled as he scrubbed urine off the wooden floor. “I let you out less than an hour ago! We’re going to be late picking up Joy.”

The dog didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Tongue wagging, the brown and black Australian Terrier was happy as all get out watching Craig clean up his mess. Throwing the rags in an air-sealed bin, Craig moved away from the smell of bleach and grabbed his coat. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed the dog’s leash and collar as well.

“Now don’t fight me on this, boy. You need to wear the collar, or you’re not coming with. There’s rules in life.”

Muffin’s eyes flickered from the collar to Craig and back again, his expression one of deadly seriousness… or at least as much gravity as a dog could muster with a pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. An unspoken agreement passed between them as Craig stepped forward with the collar.

Of course, Muffin couldn’t make it that easy.

“No, stop running!”

“Why did Bianca leave you with me?”

“Joy’s gonna be mad!”

That stopped the dog in his tracks. Aside from Bianca, Muffin loved nobody in the world as much as Joy. Tongue still hanging, he sat still as Craig finally got the collar and leash on him. Only moments later, they were out the door and on the way to picking up Craig’s sister at work.

The 101 was jammed, even by the usual standards. An old woman suddenly cut him off, and Craig slammed his palm against the horn. It was a wasted effort; the Metallica thumping from her lowered window drowned him out entirely. Beside him, Muffin lost it.

Bark Bark.

“I know, right!”

Eventually, they passed a truck flipped on its side, landscaping supplies spilled across the road. Of course, with the rubberneckers pausing to gaze at the sight, traffic still didn’t pick up for another quarter mile. Craig looked at the time.

“Ugh, it’s 3 o’clock! Joy’s gonna be…” Then he remembered who he was talking about. “Well, no, she won’t be angry. She’s Joy. But still! I hate being late.”

Muffin added his enthusiasm to that statement with some agreeable barks, and Craig appreciated his support so much that he rolled down the window a little. Not enough to let the heat of the day in, being California mid-summer, but enough for the dog to get a whiff of road air as they traveled. 

Traffic finally released its grip at 3:04 precisely, and they moved on down the road.

Turning at Castillo, Craig and Muffin moved into almost the heart of Santa Barbara’s downtown. Joy worked at a Montessori Kindergarten, making bookoo bucks, for a teacher, as she taught the youth of the world to discover their aspirations. At least that’s what she said.

In reality, she’s teaching them how not to crap their pants and why it’s wrong to bite people. Not that I’m judging, it’s honest, necessary work. But that’s a hell of a way to spend her special day.

It was Joy’s birthday, and he was going to make sure it was special as all get-out.

Normally, Joy took the bus home and back. But not today. Craig had worked a double shift last week, so he could change his normal schedule. Joy wouldn’t be riding home on the number seven, with its weird occupants and the tell-tale smell of vomit on every seat. 

Craig put the thought of the stinky Number 7 behind him, letting his eyes drift over the downtown bustle. There was the drifting of flowers as they fell from local trees, and an errant breeze, the salt of the sea tanging everything it touched for miles. And there, the random homeless person pushing a stolen shopping cart. And there, a jogger, now dodging said random homeless person, only seconds later. And there, the man in rags grabbing onto the woman’s side. She falls.

The brakes screamed in protest as Craig veered toward the curb. He’d deal with the rotos later; someone needed him now.

He leaped out, slamming the door shut just in time to keep Muffin from bolting after him, and charged toward the sidewalk just as the first screams pierced the air.

“Help! Let go of me, creep!”

The homeless man seemed not to care as he pawed at her. Reaching one dirty hand up, he gripped the side of her arm tightly just as a clean, strong hand fell on top of his.

Craig grabbed the man from behind, locking both of the man’s arms and using his legs to push off the earth. He leaned back hard, dragging them both down with him. It was uncomfortable, but it did its job of changing the fight's equation. The jogger managed to wrench free of the vagrant’s grip and scrambled away while Craig and the homeless man duked it out.

Thinking quickly, he rolled away immediately, putting some distance between them in case the man was armed. Craig popped up in his boxer’s stance. He’d taken lessons late in high school that had continued far into the Navy. His coaches had always said he was a natural. His biggest downfall was how easily a punch to the face made him angry. Not a flaw, exactly. But the rage sometimes clouded his mind and made him sloppy.

Exhaling, Craig ignored Muffin’s muffled barking and the heavy breathing of the woman crawling away from her attacker. Feeling clearheaded, Craig held steady. 

The homeless man grinned, revealing brown and yellow teeth, then drew the expected weapon.

There’s always a knife, Craig thought grimly. Expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. 

Joy would’ve called him out for being cynical, one of the few things in this world she genuinely detested. But Craig wasn’t cynical; he was a realist. Sometimes, people just had a knife.

The 3-inch blade caught the late-afternoon sun as Craig shifted his stance. He put one foot forward, the other braced at an angle, minimizing his profile while keeping him light on his feet. 

The vagrant blinked. Then blinked again, a moment of clarity briefly surfacing behind his eyes. He turned, shoved the knife into the cart, and pumped his legs as fast as his falling-apart shoes would carry him.

Craig watched him go, making sure he wasn’t going to double back and be sneaky. Once a healthy distance was allowed, he turned back to see if the woman he’d stopped to help was okay, but she, too, was gone. Already within the shadows of the highway bridge, he caught a bobbing ponytail flipping through the air before she faded from sight and into the darkness.

Craig shrugged, “I don’t blame her.” 

When he turned around, Muffin had both paws on the window. 

“Don’t do that! I just Windexed those.”

Muffin did not seem to care about Craig's complaints.

The rest of the drive to Joy’s school was uneventful. Santa Barbara was usually blessed with near-perfect weather year-round, but today was a scorcher, and Craig’s AC wasn’t keeping up. It was another item on his list of things to do, and something he didn’t tell others about because of how embarrassing it was. 

How many mechanics didn’t have perfectly running cars? He’d like to think there were many, but knew that was probably a lie. Again, Craig was a realist.

He pulled up to the curb outside the school and grabbed Muffin’s leash, signaling to the dog that it was time to move. Craig opened the door first, which turned out to be a mistake. He grunted from the impact of Muffin launching off his lap onto the sidewalk. Australian Terriers were not the largest of dogs, but sixteen pounds of claw and momentum aimed at the same two square inches of thigh had a way of not feeling small. 

By the time they reached the school’s entrance, the pain in Craig’s thighs had faded. He found the doorbell and buzzed the woman at the attendance desk.

“Hello, Craig,” A pleasant yet husky voice said on the other side. “You know you can’t bring that dog in here.”

“Muffin’s not a dog!” Craig said with dramatic flair. Picking him up, he held the dog toward the camera built into the doorbell, “Look at him! This is a pure bundle of happiness.”

Bark Bark.

“See!”

“That’s still a no, Craig. You’ll have to wait for Joy to come out.”

Nodding and in no mood to belabour the point, Craig put the dog down. Muffin immediately pawed at his leg, but he dragged him aside anyway. “Come on, boy. More people will be coming out, and we don’t want to block their way.”

“Thank you, Craig. I’ll tell her you’re waiting.”

“Appreciate it, Allison.”

The sun beat down on them with a fury as men, women, and children exited the school. A half hour had passed since the school’s final bell, but still no Joy. Muffin had started whining and getting impatient, forcing Craig to play with the dog to calm him and pass the time. They got so into it that they missed the door opening.

“If that isn’t Craig and Muffin Arbor!”

“Technically, it’s Craig Arbor and Muffin Artelli, according to Bianca,” Craig said with a smile. Looking up, he met Joy’s eyes, “Hey sis, and happy birthday!”

Joy stood just a little over 5'6". She had an elfin face, with a small, slightly up-angled nose, wide-set brown eyes, and sharp cheekbones creating shadowed planes when the light hit her just right. Her dark brown hair was up in a ponytail at the moment, a purple T. rex pin resting on top as she reached down toward Muffin.

“Hello there, yourself, Broheim. And look at this fine, upstanding citizen you have with you! Who’s a good boy? I think it’s you! Yes, it is!” 

The dog loved Joy, but where most things sent Muffin into hysteria, Joy’s presence had the opposite effect. She stroked his cheek with one hand and produced a small plastic bag from her purse with the other. 

“Who wants a delicious treat?” she asked, pulling out a long strip of pre-cooked bacon.

Muffin spun in circles and barked, the sight of food taking away his tranquility. Joy set the treat on the ground and snapped her hand back before he could accidentally take a finger off.

Craig tapped his chin in thought, “How did you know we’d be visiting today?”

“I didn’t. I always have a few pieces of bacon in my purse. You never know who might be needing something special.”

Pure Joy.

“T. rex today?”

“You like?” She self-consciously touched the plastic ornament. “I was thinking to myself, it’s a perfect day, so why not resurrect something. The sun is shining. The breeze is quite nice. Tree sperm is in the air-”

“Wait, tree sperm? You mean dander?”

“Tomato, potato.”

“That’s tomato, to-mah-toe, Joy.”

She smiled at him. “Whatever.” Joy winked at Muffin as the dog calmly sat on his haunches, then threw him another piece of bacon from the bag. It disappeared in a second.

“So… to what do I owe the honor of a visit, Craig? If you’re asking me to dogsit Muffin, I’m going to gently remind you that I warned you not to let Bianca make her dog your responsibility.” Muffin whined as she put the bag back in her purse.

“No, it’s not… I’m here because it’s…bum, bum bum…your birthday!”

“Well, I knew it was my birthday. But I didn’t know you knew it was my birthday.”

“Come on. I could never forget something as important as my sister’s birthday. ”

“You forgot the last two years.”

“I remembered. I was just… busy.”

“And the year before that?” She asked with a sniff, though he saw the shadow of a smile resting there.

“I didn’t forget that time either, I just didn’t want to show up without a gift. Besides, Yellowstone was late sending the package. Can’t blame me for the delayed response of a multi-field conglomerate, now can you?”

She held out for another beat, then gave it up. “Well. You’re here now. That makes this the best birthday in years.”

And then it appeared. A true Joy smile. Craig had never seen anything that replicated it, human or otherwise. It was a smile of pure, unencumbered happiness, with no apparent cause or agenda. Being on the receiving end of it had a way of making the world feel briefly fixable. 

“Then let the birthday celebrations begin,” Craig said with theatrical flair. He pointed at his beat-up car.“Your Royal Chariot awaits.”

“Thank goodness! My hero!” Joy pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Why, I do declare this heat has very nearly given me the vapors.”

“That’s not the same time period.”

Slapping his knee, she said, “I know, Huckleberry. Now come on, let’s get to wherever we’re going. I gots the munchies!”

Joy took the leash, then immediately had to shuffle her feet to keep from being wound up and toppled as Muffin circled her in a frenzy. They were only a few steps toward his partial junker when he heard a voice call out behind them. 

Allison was still in the building with an arm half-stretched out when he turned around, “Joy, wait! You forgot to sign the par-”

The rest of what she had to say never arrived.

What the hell? I can’t move.

All of time had stopped as Allison’s heavy frame continued to fill the door mid-run. In the blink of an eye, her body contracted down into a pinpoint of light, then disappeared. Craig couldn’t shift a muscle as countless multitudes of other lights in varying colors zipped into the sky above the building. Each was moving at such speeds as he’d never seen before, disappearing into the blue sky beyond. This continued for what felt like hours as his inner monologue panicked.

What’s happening? This is impossible. She was there just a moment ago. Joy. Gotta protect Joy. How? How do you protect her from what’s happening right now? Why can’t I move!

As those thoughts ricocheted in his skull, something new impossibly happened. Text began to fill his vision. At first, it was in a language he didn’t recognize, then it flitted through several others before landing on English. He tried closing his eyes, but the words remained firmly in place, leaving him no choice but to read.

And what’s more, a male voice trickled into his mind from nowhere. The voice sounded, of all things, happy; nearly breathless as the words came out in a rush.

Hello Survivors!

If you’re reading this right now, that means you’re a part of the 10% remaining from the human population. Congratulations on your selection!

We won’t bore you with trivialities and rules, or even a subsection of rules. Instead, it is pertinent for you to know the following:

Your planet, Earth, is no longer your own.

The voice you’re hearing right now is that of the all-powerful AI closely monitoring each and every participant still remaining.

Filler

Filler 2

And finally, each of you will be granted powers beyond your wildest imaginations. So prepare yourselves for the fight of your lives, because if you don’t win, those lives will sadly be over.

That’s all! Happy hunting!

Time resumed, forcing Craig to collapse and gasp for air. He looked beside him and felt immediate relief to see both Joy and Muffin still firmly planted on the ground.

As the black spots in his vision began to disappear, he groaned, “What the hell was that?!”

Joy fell back on her butt. “Did you see rules 3 and 4. Filler and Filler 2? What the hell does that mean?” She asked while looking back at him. “Who-”

Time froze again. New words slowly appeared in his vision as if being typed.

Congratulations, Craig Arbor!

You’ve shown all the traits of being a hero and have bin assigned-

You’ve shown all the traits of being a hero, and been-

You’re a hero! Assigning special assign conceptual class concept.

Ultimate Primal Defier:

An Ultimate Primal Defier is unlike any concept elsewhere in the multiverse. Rather than let fate affect them, they take a direct hand in destroying those who would tell them where to go and what to do.

Please wait a moment as time reasserts itself, then enter the golden doorway beyond to access your full powers.

Craig felt time slowly release him as he looked at Joy, then at the golden door floating a few inches off the ground behind her. His body began to glow with a warm orange light, as something ancient had just decided he mattered. An electric current began to rampage through his body as he felt power roar through him.

"Joy, I got super pow-" 

Before he could finish, a soundless purple lightning bolt struck him. The force of it blew him apart in several directions simultaneously.

When Joy's eyes adjusted from the sudden brightness, all that remained of her brother was one partially outstretched arm and various pieces of him scattered across the street.