Author's Note: Glory - huge thanks to PrincessEilonwy (you've heard of Fforde – great joy!) and Spencer4ever for the reviews. I hereby dedicate this chapter to you magnificent pair.
Disclaimer: Some of it's mine, a lot of it's not. I make no dosh from either.
The story so far....
Rand has lost the plot. Literally.
Jurisfiction Agent Liberty Belle has risen to the challenge of finding the renegade Rand before the Wheel of Time series disintegrates. With her mentor, the fictional Jherek Carnelian,a mere braid-tug away, our heroine must leap into Randland to find al'Thor and stop the other ta'veren from deserting. But what exactly is her partner, the agenda-led Agent Iron, up to? And who are the mysterious Mary and Sue? How come there are tourists in Randland? And why is the author wasting your time with this pointless précis? Follow me - the answers, dear friends, lay just ahead…..
Chapter Four – Through a Portal Sharply
The origins of the sexivorous-maximus-maximus, or the common 'Sue, are an enigma. Analogous with the lure of the Odyssean Siren, resisting a 'Sue is a Sisyphean endeavour and even the most stoic of literary inhabitants will inevitably fall foul of their corporeal perfection. Although it has been known for a highly evolved 'Sue to be infiltrate and homogenise an established text, most are viewed as pests and should be treated accordingly. A concealed trap baited with honey or a small live rodent (rabbit as opposed to rat or mouse) can be effective although it should be stressed that even the most winsome 'Sue can be dangerous if captured. As such, they must be approached with extreme caution.
Beginners Guide to BookWorld – Chapter 284: Common Pests and How to Avoid Them
'I believe I may be enamoured of her.'
I sighed. 'Of course. You're fictional. You have no choice.'
Jherek nibbled the end of his cravat, an expression of morbid longing on his face. 'My adorable Amelia! Oh, what a carnal cad am I! But they seem so nice, Agent Belle. So sweet and accomplished and amiable.' His large eyes glazed. 'And pliable and edible and ravishing and….oof.'
'Sorry.'
It took a while for Jherek to straighten, face penitent and more than a little pale. 'No, thank you Agent Belle. I believe I needed that.'
I shot the nearest 'Sue a scathing glare. It ignored me, of course. Being of the Outland, I was about as palatable to the creature as a Nesquik to the lactose intolerant. It's large, sparkling, lavender eyes were locked on Jherek.
'Are you a canon?' it asked in a voice like tinkling crystal.
Jherek beamed me a desperate look. Both 'Sues had wittered this question in a constant, mind-capsizing loop. Iron and I had no problems telling them where to get off. Mister Carnelian, however, was facing a crisis of the trouser variety. He jammed his fingers in his ears and la-la-la-ed loudly.
Dick looked up as I punted Jherek, still wimbling feebly, into a novelty chair 'amusingly' shaped like an egg.
'Interesting creatures.'
'What?' I snapped.
'The 'Sues,' mused Iron. 'Of course, I've worked with them before. Several times, in fact.'
There was a funny quirk to Iron Dick's lips. I amended 'quirk' to 'smirk'.
'Fascinating.' I plopped onto Jherek's lap. Purely for practical purposes, you understand; the poor bloke was champing to get at that sop-faced 'Sue. He resisted for a moment then slumped back, lips mouthing his wife's name like some celestial mantra. I ignored the 'Sue's Gorgon-glare.
We were cramped in Jherek's study waiting for old Schitt to grace us with his magnificence. For safety purposes the surrounding Great Library had been cordoned off and guarded by trained Morlocks. After all, it was risky releasing feral 'Sues into the wilds of Bookworld, particularly ones as plumaged as this pair.
'Sue-1 was typical of her breed; average height, brown tumbling locks and a bosom that could shelter a small village. Clad in a leather outfit that must have required some serious shoe-horning, the creature lounged against a book case like some sexy brockwurst. Cross-bows, dirks and jagged morningstars dripped from the 'Sue's implausible curves – decorative and deadly. I vowed to accessorise more diligently.
'Sue-2 was tall, blonde and skinny. Well, more willowy, really. And its hair wasn't really blonde as such….it was more a sheaf of brightest gold, and her eyes, oh! her eyes were as sparkling amethysts, skin pale as milk from the gentlest ewe, face delicate as a flower greeting the first dawn of Spring. My heart wept for this darling creature, the sweetest girl in the four counties, wept that she had been wronged, vilified for her kind, pure-hearted deeds, perhaps popping a lost fledgling back into its nest, carrying a lamb over some nasty, dirty puddle, rescuing a trapped bee from a tyrannous lupin-leaf or some other noble yet woefully unrewarded feat….
I shook my head, trying to scatter the morass of clichés and sickening imagery. It worked. When I looked back, 'Sue-2 was nothing but a scrawny, pasty vision of engineered deceit. It bared small, even teeth at me. I smiled back.
'Happy now?' Iron drawled.
'Not until my boot is up its arse.' Jherek had started struggling again. I grappled him in a decent head-lock.
'Relax. They can project an image but not control. Just ignore them.'
'What about him?' I gasped as my tutor peeped a sort of snarly whimper.
'Your Mister Carnelian is proof that the plan's going to work. Rebellion will be the last thing on al'Thor's mind once he sees these 'Sues.'
I wasn't convinced. Using a Mary-Sue as live bait seemed on the suicidal side of risky. I said as much to Iron Dick.
'Light, Agent Belle, must you question everything? Besides, desperate times etcetera, etcetera.'
'What did you just call me?'
'Agent Belle.'
'No, just before that.'
'What?'
'Light.'
'What's the matter?'
'Nothing. I was just wondering…'
'Then what did you swear for?'
'I didn't swear.'
'Yes you did - you said 'Light'.'
'Exactly.'
'What in the Light are you talking about?'
'There, you said it again!'
'What?'
'Light.' I ground out.
'You really should stop cursing, you know. Most unladylike.'
Luckily, Schitt scotched any more irritating dialogue by storming in.
'Right,' he snapped. 'Code names; you,' he jabbed a finger at lush brunette. 'Mary. You,' The blonde blushed prettily. 'Sue.'
How original.
'Iron and Belle, your names shall henceforth be Mat and Mai respectively.'
'Pardon uncle - I mean sir - but Mat's already taken.'
I raised my hand. 'Also, uncle-sir, isn't 'Mai' a little generalised?'
'How?'
'It means 'girl' in the Old Tongue. Something so blandly unoriginal will stand out like a sore Trolloc.'
'There's the alliterative dilemma as well, unc…sir.'
Schitt looked really confused now.
'Too many 'm's,' explained Dick. 'It breeds confusion for the reader.'
'It also smacks of the rank amateur. No offence.' I added belatedly.
Schitt squeezed his eyes so tightly they should have imploded. 'Fine. Call yourself whatever you want. Richard, you too – except Han,' he snapped as Iron's face took on a hopeful glint.
I thought for a moment. 'I'll be Thea then.'
'Vyren,' said Iron sulkily.
'Fine,' Schitt bared his weasel's grin. 'Good luck.'
'So, I've been wondering,' I said after Schitt had stormed out. 'How come you're not a Schitt? Name-wise, that is.'
Iron seized Jherek in time to stop the randy dandy from lunging at the nearest 'Sue. 'I'm related to that noble line on my maternal side.'
'So,' I mused as we set about lashing a now frantic Jherek to the novelty chair. 'Couldn't wait to ferret into the family business, eh?'
'I don't think I like what you're insinuating, Agent Belle. I achieved a position in the corporation because I champion their belief to make a better world for all.' He strutted to the portal control. 'On the subject, I find your surname rather intriguing.' His dark glare raked over me as he flicked the switch. 'I assume it's not based on aesthetics.'
'You know, Dick, when I first saw you I thought I'd hate your guts.'
'That is a shame.'
'Don't worry - I hate your fat mouth more.'
The portal flickered then flickered again. Then it flickered some more.
'What's up with that?'
'I'm not sure.' Iron was frowning as he poked a finger into the spasming light. 'It feels normal.'
'Are you canon?' came a voice like shivering snowflakes.
I spun and cursed. The darker 'Sue was loosening Jherek's restraints. My tutor squeaked then looked at me with a strange mixture of loathing and appeal.
'Don't meet her eyes, Mister Carnelian!' I cried as Iron vaulted from the podium and careered into the purring 'Sue-1. It snarled, eyes narrowed to indigo slits as it bucked and writhed beneath the burly Agent. The ecstatic portal exhaled the first strains of soft-porn muzac™.
'Belle,' cried Iron. 'Turn that thing off!'
'What? Jherek?'
'No! The portal!'
Too late I whirled to see 'Sue-2 skip towards the glowing gateway. With a burst of slide keyboard and electronic sax, the pasty creature flung itself into the light.
'Shit!'
'I'm here, Agent Belle.' Schitt lunged, grabbed my arm and hauled me towards the light. 'Get in after her.'
'Fat chance! That thing's gone nuts.'
'It's our duty, Belle.' Iron clutched my other arm hard enough to make me yip. 'We have to do this.'
I looked to Jherek who was now writhing under two of Schitt's buffest guards even as the remaining 'Sue made a grab for his trousers. It was quite a spectacle. Evidently, the portal agreed; the kinky music soared to a climax as Iron and I fell through the stuttering light….and into an oblivion.
'What's with this…
flicker
…ing?' I cried. The light roared and died as we tumbled, twanging my optic nerves like cheap pant elastic.
'It seems…
flicker
...familar.' yelled Iron.
'Is that a good….
flicker
...thing?'
'How the…
flicker
...should I know?'
Light burned to ash, floating, drifting. I felt Iron's hand slip from mine and then nothingness….well, apart from some more light. Oh, you know what I mean.
'I told you to keep out of sight.'
'Couldn't help it, bro'. They jus' kept doggin' at me; It's all 'hey man, do this and, hey dude, do that and hey, balefire that peasant.' It's wearing me down, man.'
I creaked open an eye. That lingo was way off mid-seventeenth century parlance.
'Just stay alert in future,' warned the quieter of the two voices. I could make out little other than they were male and one of them was very, very shiny. 'We don't need the publicity right now, remember?'
'Sure, man,' drawled his companion. 'Whatever you say.'
I bit back a groan and sat up. The alleyway I had landed in was dark, clammy and on the niffy side. I was also, apart from the mysterious conversationalists, very much alone.
'Iron…I mean, Vyren,' I hissed.
Nothing.
I yanked my braid. 'Jherek?'
'Did'ya hear that, man?'
I froze but the shiny man was already peering in my direction. I was slumping deeper into the mouldy hay when I spied the second speaker.
'Freeze!' I leapt from the straw and levelled my trusty Uzi at the taller, matte-er bloke. 'Rand al'Thor, you're under Jurisfiction arrest.'
'Woah,' spluttered the titian felon. 'You got the wrong end of my stick, lady.'
'Shut it, Bland,' I snarled, snapping cuffs to wrists. 'You are in a whole alternate world of trouble.'
'Excuse me, but what exactly are you doing?'
I glared at the resplendent fellow….then found myself glaring a little more. All broad shoulders and chiselled waist, he was at least a head taller than I. His armour was polished to a platinum sheen and, despite there being no breeze whatsoever, framed by a billowing white cloak. His hair was golden, his eyes cobalt blue. In short, he was absolutely bloody gorgeous.
'I'm, ahem, arresting your friend.'
Adonis simply smiled. 'On what charges, precisely?'
'Rand al'Thor is a wanted felon; PageRunner, first degree.'
'I see. But that isn't Rand al'Thor.'
I glanced at the ginger fellow; I had never seen a Rand-ier looking Rand. 'Yes it is.'
'I think you'll find it isn't.'
'Look mate, don't waste my time.'
'I think it's you who should look.' His supreme gorgeousness stepped closer and lifted Rand's sleeve. 'You see? No tattoos.'
'So?'
'So he cannot be the Car'a'carn.'
'Says you.'
'Says the entire theology of the Wheel of Time series. And another thing.' He reached for the sack slung over his broad shoulder and pulled out a scroll. 'There now. Observe the nose? Completely different flare of the nostrils. Plus, the real Rand's ears are smaller.'
I peered at the sketch. It was an arty-farty surrealist piece of the ginger hero cloud-tussling with his mortal foe. Sparkling beauty was right; this Rand did look rather different.
'Artistic license,' I declared.
'It's possible, but why would Rand speak like a twentieth century buffoon?'
I chewed on that for a bit then sighed. 'All right, so who is he and does he look like Rand?'
The two men exchanged a shifty look.
'There's enough room for the both of you….' I jiggled the manacles suggestively.
'Are you with Goliath?' The blonde asked.
'Do I look like an anally retentive, quasi-fascist litera-phobe to you?
They blinked.
'No,' I sighed. 'I do not work for Goliath.'
'You heard the skirt; she ain't no anal-fascist quasi-phobe. Tell her, man.'
The sum of all beauty considered for a moment before beginning. 'This fellow here is not the real al'Thor. Nor are any of the forty-six other 'al'Thors currently lodged in a nearby inn. Not one of the seventeen Mandragorans housed at The Feathered Egg are the real Lan, and the three Nynaeves, though suitably feisty, are none of them the genuine Wisdom. '
'I see. Just one little problem – you seem to be talking utter shite.'
'Let me try another approach.' The bombshell thumbed his chin. 'You are, I assume, conscious of the popularity of Mister Jordan's work.
'I am aware of his inexplicable success, yes.'
'Well, certain Outlanders have discovered a method by which to express their appreciation of the author's work.'
'Go on.'
'These people enjoy elaborating on the Jordan-verse, say….imagining the characters in unwritten scenarios or re-imagining scenes for their amusement. Some even go so far as to commit these fancies to paper. Imitation, as they say, is the sincerest form of flattery.'
I was getting a prickly, unpleasant sensation at the back of my neck. 'I'm not going to like this, am I?'
'Probably not,' his royal gorgeousness admitted.
'Perhaps we should just cut to the chase.'
'As you wish.' He smiled. 'Have you ever heard of something known as 'fanfiction'?'
I gazed into my scum-frothed Pina Colada. 'Fanfictional?' I murmured for the forty-ninth time.
The blonde fellow nodded. 'Don't worry. They are really quite harmless.'
I eyed the motley patrons of The Feathered Egg cocktail lounge askance. My stomach wrenched at the sight of a quintet of Rands, all identical save for the tiniest details, locked in a game of Twister. In a shaded corner a trio of Wisdoms sniffed into their Virgin Marys while a burly, yellow-eyed bloke sat gossiping at an axe.
'I should report you. All of you.' I cradled my head in my hands. 'Iron's is going to have a seizure over this.'
'Iron?' Cal spat. 'Agent Iron?'
'My partner,' I said miserably. 'You know him?'
'That blaggard was here a few days ago. He said they had been alerted to our existence and that we were going to be exterminated.' His delicious-looking lip curled in a sneer. 'A waste of textual resources' - those were his exact words. It took us four hours to calm Rand126.'
'Goliath can't do that! They haven't got powers of Jurisfiction.'
'He seemed to know what he was talking about. Claimed it was a matter above any 'petty grunt organisation' and that we would be ancient grammatic history by Thursday next. Problem is, I don't really fancy being liquefied in the text sea.'
'Why don't you skedaddle? You could pass as a Generic.'
'You're not the only one on a mission, Agent - I'm looking for someone. Someone who likes to hang around canon characters.' He grimaced. 'Well, one to be exact.'
'Cal, will you dance with me? Will you, will you, will you?' cried a giddily giggling redhead now bouncing around our table like Tigger on uppers.
'Not now, Siuan,' the blonde man said gently. 'Try Asmodean13 – he's over there with Lan09.'
He sighed as the crazed Amyrlin bounded in search of easier prey.
'Agent Belle, how can I condemn these creatures to certain extinction? So what if they are counterfeits – does that mean they have no will or purpose? Rand37, you should hear him sing Sinatra and Taim08—?' Cal shook his head fondly. 'He's just about the best break-dancer this side of the Taren. Agent Iron said if they're not canon they're not viable. But how can that be?'
'Oi, fellas! Check this out!'
We both turned in time to see a youth with dark hair and mischievous eyes leap from the bar-top into a sea of ginger. I grinned as the boy Rand-surfed to huge applause. Cal, however, was snarling again.
'Problem?'
Cal relaxed his grip on his rapier though his glare never left the grinning youth. 'Not yet.'
'So,' began my lacklustre attempt to raise the levity. 'Who are you supposed to be?'
'Nobody. I'm an OC - Original Character.'
'I like the outfit.'
'Thanks. Questioner, second-class. Apparently, this makes me entirely evil.'
'Oh, that is bad luck.'
'Isn't it?'
We paused to watch Siuan swing a giggling Forsaken around the room.
I swigged at my drink then asked; 'If you're an original, how come you're on the Goliath naughty list?'
'I inhabit a world imagined by another. I don't belong here. I'm an interloper, a trespasser.'
'But that's not your fault.'
'I don't suppose that really matters to Goliath.' Cal swirled a finger in his Sex on the Beach then paused. 'Wait, you're genuine Jurisfiction, right?'
I nodded.
'And you're completely stuck here, yes?'
I nodded, glumly this time.
'I can help you.'
'How?'
'I promise to give my all to whatever mission it is you are on. I'll even help find your bastard partner. All I ask is one favour in return.' Cal clasped my hand. My belly flopped as his warm, calloused flesh pressed against mine.
'I want to be somebody,' he said, voice deep and earnest. 'I want to be print-bound, Light, leather-bound.' His grip tightened. 'I want to be canon.'
'I'm sorry, I can't—'
'I'll get you out of this mess. All I ask is to be written. Truly written. There must be a chance.'
Something clicked. 'This person you're looking for – it's a girl isn't it?'
'Yes,' Cal sighed. 'An OC. We were created together but she fled before the dénouement. I know why but not where.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be. She's Queen Slut of the Multiverse - when I get my hands on her I'm going to rip out her black, withered excuse for a heart and feed it to a…. – no, salt and burn it, then stomp on it, then feed it to a Darkhound. Or maybe—'
'Ow.'
Cal released my crumpled hand. 'Sorry.'
'Don't worry about it. Look, can you give me a minute to think on this whole 'buddy' thing?'
'Sure.' His armour chimed as he leapt to his feet. 'Another Pina Colada?'
'Gimme a Screaming Orgasm.'
A blushing Cal hurried off and I took a long look around the room; Twister had degenerated into a wedgie tournament, yellow-eye's was snogging his demonic axe and the crowd-surfer was mooning an overjoyed Siuan. It was like an institution for the merry demented.
For some reason I was smiling when Cal returned, his huge azure eyes gazing above the colourful cocktails. 'Well?'
'Let's recap; despite having no contact with the Outland whatsoever I have to find my partner, catch a sex-crazed 'Sue, cage a potentially lethal PageRunner, prevent Goliath from committing mass literacide, save all of Randland AND somehow make you an officially registered character.' I grabbed my Orgasm and took a mammoth glug. 'All right,' I gasped. 'But no promises.'
'Oh Liberty,' His hand found mine again. 'If only there was some way I could repay you right now.'
I fluttered my lashes in a passable 'Sue impression.
A shy smile dimpled his cheeks. 'Are you thinking—?'
Through some feat of literary engineering, his lips tasted even better than they looked. Maybe there were some advantages to this Fanfiction after all.
