I seem to have totally neglected to put up my usual disclaimer, although they seem to be inconsequential nowadays. Here's one, though. I do not own World Wrestling Entertainment. I do not own the wrestlers, they are property of themselves. Prinnies from the game Disgaea: Hour of Darkness are creations of the fabulous people at Nippon Ichi and Atlus. Moogles from the Final Fantasy games likewise belong to Square. I don't want any of the Sues. In fact, I'm giving them out; who wants one?
For those who remembered some of my older stories, once completed I would put up something after it entitled Author's Notes. This was actually a proper chapter, but once more to comply with 's policy I've changed it to Writer's Bytes. This flying under the radar thing is tiring.
Oh, and Luke is right, I did leave out the Gary Stus/Marty Sams. I guess I neglected them because the ratio of Sues to Stus are so large, and the few Stus that I've come across in the wrestling section are pretty good. But far be it for me to ignore them, hence here's a little bit of a follow up to the first chapter.
Date Uploaded: 19 September 2004
Meet the male reincarnation. Done? Now say goodbye.
Eric Bischoff was betting against Paul Heyman in the inter-brand elimination match for that night when the door burst open. The two general managers of RAW and Smackdown! respectively jumped, half expecting Vince, Triple H or the Undertaker to come stalking in.
Instead it was an exceptionally well-built young man with a scowl on his face. Stu377 stomped up to them, kicking the door shut. "All right, Bischoff, I want a match against Jericho for the Intercontinental Championship! And don't even try to tell me that the match card is set; I don't care! I'm a big enough draw to influence even PPV bouts!"
Heyman looked inquiringly at Bischoff. "New talent?"
"I've never seen this asshole before in my life," Bischoff answered.
"Quit fucking around like that!" Stu377 snapped. "I'm Insert Name Here, I'm huge in Japan, I trained in the Hart Dungeon, under Killer Kowalski, Dory Funk Jr. and Stanislaus Zbyszko. I've been a main eventer since I entered WWE last week!"
"You do realize that Stanislaus Zbyszko has been dead nearly forty years, right?" Heyman pointed out impatiently.
Before the suddenly confused young man could answer the door opened. Trish Stratus poked her head in. "Eric, I need to talk to you. There is no way I'm going out there to defend my title against Victoria when she's on a REALLY bad PMS trip."
"Jesus, can't you wait your turn?" Stu377 interjected rudely. "I know I'm irresistible, but the big boys are discussing important matters right now, so you can just get your blonde head out of that door until I'm done."
Trish was momentarily speechless. Bischoff managed to answer for her as he hit the intercom. "Bischoff here, please send someone to get this moron out of my office." Before the guards could come Trish had recovered from her initial confusion and had kicked him where it counted, huffily crossing her arms indignantly as he was forcefully removed from the room.
End. Really, I mean it this time.
Well, except for this:
And in conclusion they invaded the writer's haven with disastrous results on their part.
In what was once Azrael's spotlessly white place in the fanfiction realm there came a huge clamor. One of the Prinnies, curious penguin-like creatures with bat wings and satchels, stopped his hard work at the construction site to peer out at what was causing the racket. He did a double take as he saw what was outside on the yet not landscaped front lawn.
Girls. Dozens upon dozens of them, in fact. Wait, there were a few men, but they were lost in the huge sea of the opposite gender. There were Caucasian-Americans, African-Americans, Latin Americans, Hispanics, Europeans including a bevy of mixed descents such as Italian, French, German, Spanish, Polish, Turkish and the lot, Eurasians, Australians, Russians and Asians, among which were Japanese, Chinese, Malaysian, Korean, Vietnamese and Indian. It looked like a delegation of United Nations Representatives, only they were mostly young women aged thirteen to twenty-nine (not thirty; to them as soon as you hit thirty you were basically just OLD) and seemed to be vying against each other in the beauty department. They were so pretty (some of the men included, disturbingly enough) it seemed falsely out of place, therefore unbearable to look at. As such the effect was chilling.
The Prinny looked to a Moogle on his left. "Dood, that's some messed up shit. We have to call the boss, dood."
The Moogle turned a horrified face at him, at least as much as his squinted expression allowed. "That's not a good idea, kupo. Azrael-kupo said that she would be sleeping in her room. If we wake her up it's going to be our heads on the chopping-block, kupo!"
"But those girls are going to wreck the front lawn, dood, and it's going to be hell to clean up after them!" the Prinny argued. "And they seem to be getting violent, dood…"
"Let's flip a coin then, kupo," the Moogle suggested. "You call it, heads or tales, kupo?"
"That won't be necessary, I'm already up," a bleary-eyed Azrael said as she stepped out onto the half-finished terrace, putting her glasses on. Apparently the noise had woken her up. She took a good look at the crowd and groaned. "Oh what is this all about now?"
"YOU!" Sue112 exclaimed, pointing angrily up at her. "You sent us to invade WWE under the false promise that as a group we would succeed in overrunning it completely!"
"You fed us lies!" Sue001 accused. "We got thrown out one by one like yesterday's newspaper!"
"We ought to torch you and this place for what you did!" Stu377 chipped in, still recovering from having received a shot in the groin.
"And on top of that the resulting fanfic was a derogatory shot at our very nature!" Sue859 followed up. "You're a petty, vindictive author who doesn't deserve our acknowledgement!"
"Then what the fuck are you still doing here?" Azrael pointed out in a bored voice.
The sea of faces turned red as the Sues and Stus miraculously realized the error in that statement. They quickly composed themselves as best as they could, though. "The creation of a Mary Sue or a Gary Stu is a symbol of passion and freedom in writing," Sue646 said, in what she figured was poetically. "We Sues and Stus exist as writer's ideal person, and our successes and what we attain are their hope that-"
BOOM. That was the sound that came from Azrael picking up the unfortunate Prinny beside her and throwing it headlong at the speaking Sue. The resulting explosion wiped out her and seven other Sues standing around her. The angry mob had neglected to read the sign out in front - Warning: Prinnies explode when thrown.
"Utter bullshit," Azrael said before fixing a fierce glare in the direction of the Sues and Stus. "Anybody else want to complain??"
There was a deathly silence. And then the crowd slowly began to disperse.
"Morons," Azrael muttered. She turned to the watching Prinnies and Moogles, the former looking hesitant being within arms reach. "Get back to work," she snapped, causing them to go scrambling for their posts. Then she left, mumbling something about having to go to the Netherworld hospital to revive the Prinny Pizzicato.
End. Right, I know, you get the picture.
