Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

suddenly, lurching to a halt. I, unfortunately, was following right behind him, and, as I turned, I was met by a chestful of Mokian posterior. Sing wasn’t a Crystin, but he was wearing Warrior’s Lenses, which probably helped him keep his balance as I bounced off of him and fell back into the hallway.
    “Sing?” I said. “What –“
    The large anthropologist reached to his waist, pulling out a pair of handguns. And then – with the flair of a man who had watched too many action movies – he began to unload them at something farther down the corridor. I twisted to the side and was met by the sight of another Alivened – also made completely from wadded-up pieces of paper – lumbering down the hallway in front of us.
    Sing’s guns had little effect on the creature. Bits of paper flipped into the air as the bullets tore through the Alivened’s body. Each impact seemed to slow it a bit, but it still continued to move toward Sing at an unsteady pace.
    Bastille Pulled up beside me. “Shattered Glass!” she cursed, turning. The Alivened behind us was quickly approaching. “You’d better do something, Smedry,” she said, whipping her handbag off her shoulder. “I don’t know if I can handle these things on my own.”
    With that, she reached into the purse and grabbed something inside. She whipped her hand out, throwing the bag aside as she drew forth a massive crystalline sword.
    I blinked. Yes, the thing Bastille had pulled from her purse was, indeed, a sword. It was nearly as tall as Bastille was, and it glittered in the lantern light, refracting a spray of rainbow colors across the corridor.
    The handbag, of course, couldn’t have held something so long. However, if the pulling of a sword from a handbag is the thing in this story that stops you, then you likely need therapy. I could recommend a good psychologist. Of course, he’s Librarian controlled. They all are.
    It’s a union thing.
    Bastille jumped forward, her sword glistening as she charged the Alivened. It swung at her, and she rolled, just barely ducking beneath its massive arm. Then she sliced, shearing the thing’s arm completely free.
    The arm fell off, its wrinkled pates suddenly straightening and bursting into the air – like those of a book that had suddenly had its binding torn free. They fluttered as they fell. The Alivened, however, didn’t seem to mind the missing limb – and I soon saw why. The lumps of paper in its body surged forward, forming a new arm to replace the one that Bastille had cut free.
    I finally shook myself from my daze, scrambling to me feet. Behind me, Sing pulled out twin uzis. He knelt, holding the weapons with meaty hands, and automatic weapon fire echoed in the corridor. His Alivened paused from the shock, a flurry of paper scraps exploding from its body. It stumbled for a moment, then continued on despite the rain of bullets.
    “Alcatraz!” Sing yelled over the gunfire. “Do something!”
    I ran to the side of the corridor, grabbing a lantern off the wall. The cantaloupe-shaped holder broke free easily beneath my Talent, and I turned, hurling it at Sing’s Alivened as Sing ran out of bullets.
    The lantern crashed into the Alivened, then bounced free. The creature did not catch on fire.
    “Not like that!” Sing said, reloading his uzis. “Nobody would build an Alivened out of paper without also making it resistant to a little fire!”
    Sing raised the uzis and fired another spray of bullets. The thing slowed but pressed on, continuing its inevitable march.
    Now, if you are ever writing a story such as this, you should know something. Never interrupt the flow of a good action scene by injecting needless explanations. I did this once, in Chapter Fourteen of an otherwise very exciting story. I regret it to this day.
    Also, if you are ever attacked by unstoppable monsters created entirely from bad romance novels, you should do exactly what I did: Quickly reach into your pocket and pull free your Firebringer’s Lenses.
    Resistant to a little fire, eh? I thought, yanking open the velvet pouch. What about a lot of fire?!
    I reached into the pouch with desperate fingers, whipping out the Lenses – yet, as before, my touch was too unpracticed, and I was too powerful for my own good. The Lenses activated as soon as I touched them.
    Then began to glow dangerously.
    “Gak!” I said. I tried to get the Lenses turned around. However, I fumbled, spinning the Lenses so they pointed backward at me