Chapter 71: The Reflection of the Rogue
The silver mirror didn't just reflect; it beckoned. At 12:00 Cycles, the glass ripples like the surface of a stormy sea, and before Ne Job could call for a 7.5% security sweep, a grappling hook made of twisted typewriter ribbon snagged the edge of his mahogany desk.
Out of the mirror stepped Captain Ne-Beard.
He looked exactly like Ne Job, but his trench coat was made of salt-stained leather, his silver plume was a tattered parrot feather, and instead of a stapler, he brandished a Polished Cutlass of Hyperbole. Behind him swarmed a crew of Metric Buccaneers—alternate versions of Pip with eye patches and a Muse whose hair flickered like a dying lantern in a fog.
"Avast, ye desk-jockey!" Ne-Beard bellowed, his voice smelling of rum and old parchment. "We've come for your liquid gold! The Silver Ink of the Archive belongs to them what has the guts to write their own destiny on the high seas of the Void!"
The Siege of Section C-7
"You're a reflection, not a boarder!" Ne Job shouted, drawing his stapler. "Get back to your own chapter!"
"Nay!" the Captain laughed, kicking over a bin of 'Unresolved Conflicts.' "In my world, the Bureau is a galleon, and the Author is just a kraken we've yet to harpoon! We're here to liberate your Liquid Assets!"
The Buccaneers didn't use swords; they used Plunder-Pens. They began to vacuum the silver ink directly out of the wells, causing the reality of the Lobby to flicker and lose its "Resolution." The walls started to look like low-quality sketches.
The 7.5% Sea Shanty
The Muse tried to intervene, but the Pirate-Muse countered with a Dirge of Discontent. The two waves of neon energy clashed, creating a localized storm of "Atmospheric Gloom."
"They're stealing the 'Flow'!" Pip yelled, currently wrestling a Pirate-Pip over a crate of semicolons. "If they take the ink, the story dries up! We'll be stuck in a 'Permanent Hiatus'!"
Ne Job realized that he couldn't out-fight a pirate. He had to Out-Bureaucratize him.
"Junior! Get the 'Maritime Regulations'! Assistant Yue, deploy the 'Anti-Piracy Firewalls'!"
"I. AM. ENGAGING. THE. NAVAL. CODE. COMMISSIONER," Yue clattered, her steam valves sounding like a foghorn. "I. HAVE. DISCOVERED. THAT. CAPTAIN. NE-BEARD. HAS. NOT. FILED. A. 'CROSS-DIMENSIONAL. DOCKING. PERMIT'. HE. IS. CURRENTLY. IN. 100%. VIOLATION. OF. PORT. AUTHORITY."
The Parley of the Pen
Ne Job parried a blow from the cutlass with his silver stapler. CLANG. "You think you're free, Beard?" Ne Job hissed. "You're just a trope! The 'Rogue Alternate Self' is the oldest trick in the book! You're not stealing ink; you're just following a different set of clichés!"
The Captain paused, his salt-stained brow furrowed. "A cliché? I be a sovereign of the Void!"
"You're a side-quest!" Ne Job countered. He fired a flurry of staples, not at the Captain, but at the Mirror. He used the staples to 'stitch' the reflection's edge, creating a Narrative Anchor that started to pull the pirates back toward the glass.
The Walking of the Plank
"Pip! The 'Scurvy-Preventing' Biscuits! Toss them into the ink!"
As the dry, boring biscuits hit the silver ink, the "Liquid Gold" became 7.5% more "Standardized." The plunder-pens clogged. The Buccaneers started to lose their roguish charm and began to look like tired accountants in fancy dress.
"The wind is dyin'!" Ne-Beard cried, as his leather coat turned back into a polyester blend. "The drama... it be fadin'!"
"It's called 'Consistency,' Captain," Ne Job said, giving the mirror a final, authoritative kick.
With a sound like a closing book, the Metric Buccaneers were sucked back into the silver mirror. The grappling hooks snapped. The ripples settled. The mirror returned to reflecting a very tired, very ink-stained Ne Job.
The Captain's Log
Ne Job adjusted his hat. He could still smell a hint of sea salt in the air.
LOG: CHAPTER 71 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Piracy thwarted. Ink reserves (mostly) recovered.
NOTE: I need to look into a 7.5% raise for Yue; her 'Foghorn Mode' saved the Lobby.
OBSERVATION: Everyone wants to be the rogue until they realize how much paperwork a pirate actually has to do to keep a ship afloat.
P.S.: Barnaby the dragon found the Pirate-Muse's hat. He refuses to take it off. He is now 'Barnaby the Black-Scaled.'
The Muse leaned over his shoulder, her hair back to its vibrant neon-blue. "You looked almost... dashing... in that duel, Ne Job. Maybe you have a bit of the 'Rogue' in you after all."
Ne Job looked at the Semicolon. It was glowing with a steady, unshakeable violet.
"I have just enough 'Rogue' to keep things interesting, Muse," Ne Job said. "Now, why is Junior pointing at the Great Mainspring and why has it started producing 'Silver Eggs' that look exactly like Miniature Void Drakes?"