If you are reading this, hoping to find a simple fan-fiction, leave now. You will not find it here. Assuming I find time to finish this story, assuming this manuscript makes it home, I assure you this will be no pleasurable read. The things I'm writing now are a true story, in as much sense as that phrase has ever been used.

I am a Mary Sue, although that phrase is far more feminine than I would have liked. We aren't simply a term; we're a people, a people with extraordinary abilities, impossibly good looks, and perfection of personality unique to whomever we're focusing on at the moment. We are perfection, and in this way we destroy whatever we touch. We are distilled water, pure, uncorrupted, toxic. We bleed universes dry wherever we walk, and we have to watch as millions, billions, sometimes trillions of people perish in catastrophe.

My name isn't important, but for the sake of my own safety and yours, you can call me Gary. Know this: if you see me, if you hear of me, if you so much as find a hair you might think belongs to me in your cafeteria food, don't run. It won't do you any good. Call your family. Tell them goodbye. Tell them you love them. By the time I'm in your universe, it's already over.

I'm well aware that I sound like a ineffectual supervillian ranting about his phony power. I wish that was true. If you've ever read Twilight, you've seen what a Mary Sue can do to a story. Hijack it, make it her own so thourughly that the story begins and ends with her veery heartbeat. I'm just like every other Mary Sue, but I'm trying to do something about it. I'm trying to fix things, drive my own species extinct. When I'm done, I expect I'll kill myself, or relax forever in some pre-made wasteland devoted to me, somewhere where no-one'll be hurt.

So please. Stop reading this fan-fiction. Stop laughing like I'm joking, because I'm not.

And please, please, don't make more. You are the authors, the gods, tho only beings with power over us. Don't waste it away.

Please.