-ASS: The Anti-Sue School-
Co-authored with the7bells
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Anything recognizable does not belong to us.
A/N: The background information about the Sue Slayers is here. D Enjoy.
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Chapter One: The New Recruit
It was a cold and rainy day, the sort of day in which one would choose to sit at home and read long, boring books in front of the fireplace. And, indeed, this was what most people were doing, curling into a comfy chair and pulling out their copies of War and Peace. And this was also what MSM was wishing to do as she hurried along the empty street, the hood of her coat pulled up over her head. She had been in the middle of an extremely good volume (The Encyclopedia Britannica), when her father had discovered that the filter for the central heating needed replacement. And so here she was, stomping across the slick pavement in the direction of the hardware store, quietly pondering exactly which article of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights her parents had violated in making her go.
MSM paused for a moment to angrily stomp on a cockroach, which lay flailing in the center of the wet sidewalk, clearly not particularly compatible with rain. Unfortunately, the cockroach's guts stuck to her shoes.
"DAMMIT!" she swore under her breath, promptly seating herself down directly in the middle of the sidewalk. Never mind social graces, she absolutely refused to walk even one. . .more. . .STEP with bug innards on her shoe. She then began looking around for some form of stick or otherwise dead (or living, she wasn't picky) piece of suitable plant life she could use to clean the mess off the sole. It was at this particular moment that she was confronted with a pair of combat boots, set quite conveniently about six inches from her right hand.
"What!" She was not in the best of moods, bookless, with insect intenstines simply refusing to part company with her shoe sole.
"Well, we're recruiting for new Sue-Slayers, and, well, you're sort of the only one in the area I'm supposed to be recruiting in…" The short girl, wet strawberry blonde hair plastered to her head, blue eyes searching for an answer, held out the laminated flyer to the hooded girl.
"I wonder why no one's out here," MSM muttered to herself, but she accepted the flyer, used the corner to scrape the guts off her shoe, wiped that on the curb, and stood up. "Thanks, I guess."
The combat booted girl gave her a smile, said, "Thanks, now I can say I did something. My name's Amanda." They shook dripping wet hands.
"Well, it might be worth a shot, after I do this heater thing for my dad. I'm MSM." She rolled her eyes at the comment about her heater.
Amanda nodded and smiled. "Excellent." Then, turning, she seemed to vanish into the small alleyway running between two houses standing silent by the road. MSM blinked several times, then gave up trying to figure out how this "Amanda" person had accomplished this feat, then shrugged and turned her attention back to the flier.
Scanning the first line of printing, MSM's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise- this was no ordinary poster. She had rather expected 'Amanda' to be an army recruiter, perhaps, or maybe someone from some obscure summer camp looking for new counselors. However, it was clear from this first line, printed in bolded script, that she was quite wrong. "Sick of Sues? Want to help wipe them off the earth- personally? Join the Sue-Slayers. Minimum age for teaching: Ability to handle weapon responsibly." MSM frowned slightly. Mary-Sues. . .she scowled and only barely refrained from spitting at the mention of the hideous things she had seen sitting their revolting selves on blatantly disrespecting whatever fandom they came from, and just generally creating havoc. They needed to be stamped out . . . just like roaches.
However, one thing didn't quite make sense to her: weren't Mary Sues fictional creatures? How could one kill them? Of course, you could always report the story for abuse on fan fiction dot net, seeing as it was almost certain that that would get it taken down, as no one would ever look any deeper into a complaint then to delete said story, but weapons? That implied something much more substantial. . .
Before she could finish that line of thought, though, a rock hit the back of her head. Looking back at her neighbor's house, she thought she saw a satisfied smirk from the open window, but, not sure, she continued walking, thinking murderous thoughts about her bratty neighbor.
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Later that night, after fixing that stupid heating thing, she snuck out of her second floor window, flashlight and flyer in hand. Lowering them carefully off her (very tiny and insecure) platform over her front door, she proceeded to climb down one of the posts. After about two hours of running around (she was not exactly the best map reader), she finally arrived at the specified address.
It was an old, run-down mental asylum. Bars covered the windows and weeds grew menacingly around the cast-iron gates, which ended in spiked points. From the amount of overgrowth, the building had been abandoned for quite a long time. A small, hastily done sign hung on the gate over the rusty, thick padlock, proclaiming in faded black lettering: "Hunter Center for the Mentally Ill- closed."
MSM frowned. Perhaps she had come to the wrong address . . .? Shining her flashlight on the map, she frowned as she tried to understand what was going on.
Suddenly, a voice rang out of the shadows, making MSM jump about a foot and drop flashlight, map, and flier. "STATE YOUR BUIS-NESS!"
"Responding to the flyer I got today, but I must be in the wrong spot. . .?" MSM answered hesitantly, looking around for the invisible questioner. Apparently the asylum wasn't as empty as it looked . . . MSM gulped. Hopefully there was no one TOO crazy, as in Charles Manson crazy, around here . . . maniacal laughter rang out from somewhere in front of her. MSM flinched. "Nope, come on in."
A black-cloaked figure appeared suddenly on the other side of the gate, holding up a blue-glowing lantern. Quickly pressing a finger to the padlock, she waited several seconds. The lock then clicked open. MSM's eyes widened. Fingerprint recognition! She swallowed. Perhaps this mental asylum was actually still open, and she was about to become a high security prisoner inside it. Come to think of it, that flier really had been slightly insane . . . but before she had the time to really consider that, the cloaked figure stepped back and the gate swung open. Feeling rather reckless, she stepped inside as The Cloaked One (as she had begun to refer to her) beckoned to her, closing the gate behind with a resounding clang.
"Erm, Hello." MSM tried to sound cheerful, and the gatekeeper rounded what must have been a death glare on her. The rest of the walk up to the insane --school was a quiet one. And it wasn't really leaving a good impression, but what school does? Finally, they reached the door. Three pulls in quick succession were rung on the bell pull, then two long ones. The "Cloaked One" promptly left
Oh, great. Oh, joy. I just love being out here in front of an abandoned mental home. At last, the door opened. A bleary eyed adult opened the door, looked her up and down, and said, "Well, come in." and began muttering about how no one had any consideration, waking people up in the dead of night. Before she even blinked, MSM found herself before another person. This one was about her age or a little older, with red hair and a smile
"Well then, I'll take it that you're a new recruit? Not a Sue? We need you to just take a quick test"
Finally, a smile, it's about time. "Well, I guess." Sitting down in an empty room, brain screaming for sleep, she picked up a pencil and glanced at question one: What would you do if you saw a Sue and needed to kill it? a. Stay as far away as possible, to avoid contamination, and shoot it with something b. Stab it repeatedly c. do subtle, underhand things to make it suffer and draw its death out painfully, After a moments thought (this was, after all, one of the hardest tests she'd ever taken) she picked a. Then she erased it and put c. This went on for a while before just picking both and moving on. Half an hour later, she finished the test, and was taken down the hall with her paper to give to the headmaster.
-TBC-
Well, there's the first chapter, hope y'all like it so far. . .R & R and Saerwen will make you your very own Pickle of Unimaginable Spooky Doomness!
-Saerwen and the7bells-