"Nothing can be perfect. Nothing. You see, not even the word 'perfect' is perfect. There are seven letters in 'perfect,' therefore it's odd. It's a shame that nothing can ever be perfect."
Hiding in the shadows, or blending in with the rest of the world. Either way, they're striving to stay alive, striving to survive. These creatures are marked with the symbol of hell, right over where their heart should be, and it is that same symbol that reminds them that they are not one of us. Some of them have strange appearances, like uniquely colored eyes or hair, or even wolf or cat ears. Some of them have wings ranging from golden, angel-like feathers to glittery, translucent faerie wings. Or perhaps it is just their goddess-worthy beauty that attracts both men and women alike. However, there are other similar creatures who are more . . . Talented. One of the easiest traits and talents to spot these creatures is by their beautiful singing or unbelievable strength or their scary amount of intelligence. And yet, there are only a select few who know that these creatures who blend in our world are not human.
These creatures are dubbed as Mary-Sues, although their male counterparts are called Gary-Stus. These human-like monsters have the one thing that all humans strive for: perfection. But these creatures were not all born this way. Yes, some of them, in fact, were human. But how did they turn into these horrid creatures? Those humans gave up their flaws, gave up everything that made them what they were. And then, they were perfect. They were unstoppable, almighty entities that must be destroyed. And, as my father says, once you become a Mary-Sue, you can never come back to a human.
And although they are considered to be perfect, unstoppable beings, they have a single weakness, which makes me wonder why we call them perfect. No, the weakness is not a flaw in their personality, just a small clink in the armor, as I would say. The weakness was directly where the mark of hell, the Diabolus sign, was ingrained in their perfect skin, right where there nonexistent heart lies. If a Mary-Sue knows she has no heart, she'll die. At least, that's what my father says.
. . . It's smart not to question Father.
My family was like any other normal household; I mean, that's what I wished, anyway. I had an older brother, and, like me, wasn't able to identify a Mary-Sue with a single glance. No, we had to make sure the Diabolus sign was on their chest before we were certain. My father was a wise man, and he was the head of the Eques Organization, a group of individuals who know and are capable of destroying Mary-Sues. He, unlike my brother and I, had the ability to detect a Mary-Sue just by looking at them. And as for my mom. . . She's been sick for almost three months now, and I haven't been able to seen her for a long, heartbreaking time. I remember her being sweet and comforting, but people can change quickly in a short amount of time.
"Eunice!" a shout called behind me, making me shoot up from my car seat. Thankfully, my seatbelt held me down, and saved me from getting a nasty bump from hitting the roof. The person behind me kicked my seat, and I responded my giving him a glare by turning my head around, but he had already beaten me to it. The dark-haired man huffed, rolling his eyes as he glanced out the window. "You-a better be fucking prepared," he hissed, still looking out the window. "You're brother's been-a talking to-a you, and it's getting pretty damn annoying to hear him repeat . . . Seven times." I rubbed my eyes, looking away from the Italian. He had only been part of Eques for a short amount of time (a year, to be specific) and already, he was going on the most difficult missions with us. No, he wasn't skilled with fighting or anything- haha, I've seen him with a grenade . . . PFTHAHAHAHAHA! Biggest. Fail. Ever- it was just that he had experience from mafia and knew how to make quick deals and whatnot.
So, I turned to my brother, looking into his focused brown eyes which were fixed on the road as he drove the sleek black car. "What's up?" I said flatly, ignoring the pissed-off Italian in the back. My brother sighed, slowing the car down as we approached a red traffic light. The light rock music from the stereo was soft, the bass making the car slightly shake with the low, strong strums. I tapped my foot impatiently, expecting an answer from him.
"I was just wondering if you can handle this," he said coolly. "This isn't your usual 'kill and move on' mission." My brother gave me a wary glance, his eyes as blank and indifferent as ever. Damn. I was jealous of how he could be so nonchalant and sarcastic at the same time. . . He was such a badass. I stared at my hands, becoming quiet. "We have to save people from becoming . . . Demons." His last word was so full of venom, so full of hate that I thought for a split second that he may as well just be losing his cool. "Isn't that right, Lovino?"
"Si, Marco," the Italian man agreed to my brother, and I felt a pang of anger hit my heart. What was I to them? Some sort of child? I wasn't that much younger than them. Just, like, two years, right? This mission was just as important as any other, and, if not, it was even more important. It was just . . . different. "This is-a where you're little guns don't do-a any good, Eunice." He lightly kicked my seat, making me growl and turn back at him with frown. He gave me a smirk, and looked out the window once again, turning quiet once more. Wait, was he . . . actually thinking about something? Then again. . . He has been strangely quiet for a while. "We're-a going to save them from . . . turning into damn monsters." His nails gently dug into the car seat, and I turned away.
Monsters. . . That was what they are.
And what they will always be.
The asylum we had pulled into had nearly four floors in all, five if you counted the cellar. But trust me, it wasn't some sort of five-star hotel. In fact, it was the opposite. Cobwebs decorated the walls, along with dusty floorboards and stained walls with peculiar colors. My stomach churned as I stared at the long wall of picture frames; all of the balding men, dressed in drab grey, gave me cold, icy stares from their beady black eyes as they hung in their photographs. A man, who looked nothing like said pictures, flounced over to us, his wavy blonde hair swaying from side to side as he greeted us with warm blue eyes. "Bonjour~!" he said smoothly, giving us three a smile. "I'm glad to see you can 'elp me wiz . . . Our special guests, non?" He flipped his hair, sighing as he looked down the hall. Next to me, Lovino crossed his arms, brushing some dark bangs out of his sharp green eyes, seemingly pissed off.
William nodded curtly. "No problem. It's our job," he replied, deciding not to be a total smartass for once. Timidly, I nodded as well. Meeting new people wasn't really my thing, especially with that twinkle in that man's eye. . . Oh Lord. . . "Can you give us a list of who is close to . . . Er, you-know-what?" I fought back the urge to scoff. Really, we have all these badass names and the best thing he could come up with is "you-know-what"? That sounded . . . So wrong. . .
"Oui, we 'ave quite a lot, actually," the Frenchman stated, turning around as he fumbled through on of his pockets. "Such a shame to lock up such beautiful zings and call zis place an asylum. . ." He gave us each three papers, so I assumed that he already into groups for us. I skimmed through the crumpled paper. Some of the names were very foreign, and I doubted I could pronounce them correctly. I narrowed my eyes at one of the names: Angelique Bonnefoy. What a silly, vain name! It was just screaming Mary-Sue.
"Angelique Bonnefoy? What kind of name is that?" I mumbled flatly and stuffed the paper in my pocket. I felt three pairs of eyes on me, but I was currently locked with the Frenchman's blue orbs. His smiley face turned a bit sharp and defensive, and I stepped back on instinct. In the corner of my eye, I could see Lovino's face distort in silent fury, while William only rolled his eyes. In the background, I noticed one of the doors of the hallway crack open, revealing a girl peeking out at me. But, as quick as it came, she shut the door, making me stare back into the blonde's eyes.
"Angelique is my daughter, mademoiselle, and she's becoming a Mary-Sue."
Ice: NOW, BEFORE YOU ALL GET MAD AT ME FOR SAYING THAT SEYCHELLES IS A SUE, PLEASE TAKE THE TIME TO READ THIS. I DO NOT THINK SEYCHELLES IS A SUE. IN FACT, I'M COSPLAYING AS HER! SO DON'T BE YELLING AT ME, OKAY?! THIS IS JUST PART OF THE PLOT!
Fire: Wow, sis. . . I think that's the first time you used Caps Lock. o3o
Ice: *deadpans* Yes, whatever. . . Anyway, this fic is to help authors make better OCs, hopefully stop the large amount of hate for Seychelles, and be entertainment for y'all. Okay? And this is our first fanfic, so please be nice!
Fire: Yeah, yeah! Be nice~!
Disclaimer: We do not own Hetalia or the cover picture~!
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