Sorry that I have not updated lately. May and June are always two of the busiest months for me! Thank you for the reviews from last chapter!
I would like to dedicate this chapter to WanderingTeen. She has recently ended her fic A Random Tale of Me and the Angel of Music. It was one of my favorite stories on She has also been one of my most faithful reviewers since the beginning of What Would Erik Do? Thank you WT!
THE CAMEO STARTS NEXT CHAPTER!
Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.
Round Four: A Higher Power
The Authoress was curled up in one of the lair's few comfortable-looking armchairs completely engrossed in a novel she had found in one of the various crates. She was so intent on the book in her hand that she did not even notice when Gerry awoke some while later.
He muzzily wriggled his way out of his cocoon of blankets and rolled onto the floor where he was promptly pounced upon by the silverware. Too sleepy to resist and really not caring about what they were up to, he dazed off again as he was dragged across the floor and then through a side passageway and roughly shoved into a kitchen.
Still semi-unconscious, he tumbled across the floor and smacked his head into a table leg. Startled awake by an explosion of pain in his cranium, he bolted up.
Unfortunately he had rolled under the table and his forehead cracked sickeningly into the tabletop above him.
He yelped in agony and swooned backwards, landing heavily on the floor.
Crim was jolted from her book by the Phantom's pitiful moans. She swiveled her head around to the mound of blankets where she had last seen Gerry, but he was not there. She got up and shut her book with a snap. Tossing it aside, she called out,
"Gerry? Gerry? Are you okay?"
There was an answering string of curses and then nothing.
The Authoress plowed through piles of crates and boxes in the direction that she thought his voice was coming from.
"GERRY! Where are you!"
By the time the Authoress had gotten across the room the Opera Ghost's pain had dulled somewhat and he managed to growl out "kitchen…" and then "…on right…"
She skidded to a stop, almost missing the doorway.
"Oh my God! What happened?"
He cracked open one eye and watched as the Authoress bounded up to the table and then proceeded to crawl underneath.
"The dammed cutlery is what happened. I do not know what they were thinking! I am going to hunt them down and use them for…argh!"
He shuddered and clutched at his head. Crim, frantic with worry and by then completely out of her senses, tried to hold onto his noggin too.
"Why is this happening to me again? Oh God, first Erik and now you! Please, please, please do not be bleeding!"
The Phantom, at this point, was thinking only of one thing, which he whined out as he batted her hands away – "water…rag…cool…head…NOW!"
After a second she realized what he had said and immediately wriggled out from under the table, no questions asked. She looked around and spotted a hand towel to the left of the small porcelain sink that was in the room. Soaking it thoroughly under the tap, she dove under the table again and plonked it down with a loud plop on top of Gerry's face.
He spluttered in surprise and then carefully positioned the cloth better. Sighing in thankfulness from the minimal amount of relief it gave him, he turned his attention to the Authoress, who was now looking slightly calmer.
"How does your head feel now?" She tentatively reached out and poked the soggy bundle.
"Better, thank you." He huffed and tried to cross his arms. This was not such a good idea, seeing as his head felt like it was going to split from just that tiny movement. He whimpered and Crim winced saying,
"I wish I had some ice, that would be so much of a…"
Suddenly, a huge mass of shaped ice cubes appeared in midair and crashed down upon the unsuspecting Phantom.
"…help." Crim finished lamely. "Er…what just happened?"
She stared at Gerry, who did not move.
"Gerry?"
She prodded him and upon receiving no response she quickly brushed some of the ice cubes that were piled on top of his head to the side.
He was out cold.
"Oh God!"
As her brain registered the impossibility of what had just happened, she panicked and jumped up, banging her head painfully on the tabletop above her in the process. Slumping back down, she groaned and carefully maneuvered herself out from under the annoying piece of furniture.
Then, exasperated and fed up, she roughly shoved the table as far as she could across the kitchen and away from Gerry.
As she looked down at the Phantom to see if he had awakened, a golf-ball sized hunk of frizzy pink light whizzed by her nose and landed gracefully on top of his chest. It wobbled around in place for a second and then with a little popping sound sprouted miniature pink arms and legs.
It tottered up Gerry's chest, climbed over his chin, hopped up onto his nose, and faced the Authoress. Without giving Crim any time to process its sudden appearance or antics, it opened up its mouth – basically it just split in half like a Pac-Man – and shouted in her own voice,
"What're you just standing there for you idiot! Get this ice off of him quick!"
The Authoress just stared at it openmouthed. Giving a little huff, it stared trying to pick up the ice cube nearest it with its tiny hands and toss it to the side. While it was doing this it pointedly chanted, "Hup, hup, hup, hup!"
After about five seconds of the pink thing struggling with its one ice cube, Crim shook herself out of her daze and began shoveling the ice cubes off of the Opera Ghost's body. Finally, when all of it was 'safely away from Mr. Gerry' as the annoying ball had declared, it demanded that she pack some of the ice scattered on the floor into a 'nice manageable ice pack'. She did so and then, with a defeated sigh plopped back down onto the floor.
The mysterious little taskmaster eyed her and then toddled off of Gerry's face. It landed on the floor in front of her and spoke,
"You are so dense! How could you just zone out like that when The Phantom of the Opera was in jeopardy!" It grumbled something like 'irresponsible little twit' and hopped up onto her knee.
"I didn't reinstate your powers as Authoress for nothing! I swear to God when you get back I am putting you through character development boot camp!"
Crim heard only one thing from its enthusiastic rant,
"Reinstated my powers as Authoress! How…who…?"
It crossed its arms and said smugly, "A higher power."
"A…"
"Yes, but you can call me Fred."
"Hey! You sound like me – not a boy!"
"Ahem…yes, well…my assigned name is…er…Fredericka." It scuffed its shoe against her kneecap in embarrassment. "Not my fault, though. It's that evil she-witch that…" it paused and then, "ahem…too much information, there."
Fred hopped back down to the floor.
"So…yes you have your 'magical powers' back and can now operate without your notebook. You also have to summon your army. Which reminds me, I brought the supplies and list with me. They're over by that blanket pile Mr. Gerry calls a bed."
Crim snorted in disbelief. "You mean to say that I have an army…and…my powers – completely free of the notebook's influence?" she glared at the ball of light that had hastily retreated back to the Phantom and was curiously poking itself halfway into his open mouth "What's the catch?"
It froze, teetered backwards out of Gerry's mouth, rolled down his chin, and rocketed off his jaw, landing on the floor by his hand with a thump.
"Ah…well I can't specifically say…"
"WHAT!"
"Hey! I have orders!"
"From whom?" Crim screeched and pounced on Fred.
It struggled to free itself from her grasp, all the while choking out a defense.
"I can't… say! If I tell you… then by a sub-sub-sub plot… line woven into the story I would…burst into flame and explode into smithereens!" Fred chomped down on the nearest finger and the Authoress flung it across the room with a growl.
"If I have some kind of weakness that could potentially get me killed in this story I think that I have the RIGHT to know about it!"
The pink ball of light picked itself up and brushed itself off before looking exasperatedly at Crim,
"Geez…if I would have known you'd be this violent I would have at least used a different form! Ahem…" It cautiously approached her again. "I can't tell you specifics, but I can at least say that it's not exactly what you would call a…weakness…just an annoyance."
"Grrrrr…"
Fred eyed the livid Authoress before it, afraid for its life.
"You know, I think I should be going now. Um…bye!"
It shot off through the door and Crim followed it with a shriek,
"NOT SO FAST YOU LITTLE…!"
Before she could finish it disappeared in a flash of light leaving a smoldering little streak on the floor.
"Fine…" the Authoress huffed as she turned and stalked across the room towards where she could see a huge pile of cardboard boxes, "just go right ahead and disappear…you are going to be sorry when I get out of this fic."
"I don't really think so," Fred said haughtily from atop Crim's head.
"Gah!" She smacked her hair, hoping to inflict some damage, but it had floated upwards and out of reach.
"Sorry," the annoying ball of light said smugly, as it watched Crim grimace and rub her head, "but I forgot to tell you that Gerry should be fine. Let him wake up when he wants to. But…" It waved its tiny arms in agitation. "Summon your army now."
It tilted itself to the side as if listening to something and then said worriedly, "You're gonna need them soon!"
Crim glared daggers at Fred, who glared right back and said,
"Now."
The Authoress, hopping mad, was trying to figure out exactly how she could possibly catch Fred, so she did not hear its last statement. Squeaking in frustration, the pink ball dived bombed her head with a shout.
"Army…NOW!"
She slapped Fred away at the last moment. It went tumbling to the ground, disappearing silently this time in the blink of an eye.
"FINE!" she huffed to the silent lair.
She stormed over to the boxes, twirled around and faced the expanse of the room, and shouted commandingly,
"MY ARMY TO ME!"
WINNER: The Authoress
LOSER: Gerry – WHY IS HE UNCOUNSCIOUS FOR SO MUCH OF THIS FIC!
