A/N: I just realized that this fic gives no attention to the FMA characters whatsoever.
Disclaimer: Full Metal Alchemist (Hagane No Renkinjitsu) is copywrite Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix Co., LTD, Funimation, Aniplex, BONES, and MBS, and is not the respective property of MoonDeity or any of her aliases.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of PooChapter VII
The Phantom of the Author
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No sooner had he spoke those words that a special-effects crew member tripped backstage, got his foot caught on the cord controlling the cool shadowy effect over this furtive person's face and whisked it away.
"Well, damn…" they said sadly. All gaped stupidly.
"It's…it's…" Evadne pointed a quivering finger. "It's…"
"IT'S RAY BRADBURY!" Cyn shouted happily, and, knocking over Csara, bounded over and latched onto the author's leg. He shook her fruitlessly as she clung to his leg like a small child, hopped around, waving his arms.
"Get off, you absurd woman!" he yelled, and with his mighty powers of visual descriptions, knocked her off and into the mud. Cyn sat huddled with happiness in the aura of the writer.
"Ohhemgee, you are the illustrious novelist who wrote about my kind!" she explained. "Except you made our skin too light. And we don't have six fingers. And our names aren't letters of the alphabet. And…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, put a sock in it." Ray Bradbury gestured over his shoulder with a jerk of his thumb. "I've brought reinforcements."
And over the hill coming like a holy tidal wave of literary splendor, came pouring a massive crowd of authors, journalists, etymologists, and reviewers all screaming cold blood-lust for the destruction of the Mary Sue.
There was Halcyon Azimine and AuroranWings and BlondeHurricane, with Halcyon wielding his fêted Baka Hammer, NinjaAlchemist was also there, ready to counter his wicked ninja skills against the Sue with equally wicked alchemy skills, as were Jett and Shizu. Alexandre Dumas and John Knowles and Charles Dickens and Pearl Buck equally swept up, waving their quills and pens in radical dissent.
They all formed behind Ray Bradbury, grumbling and murmuring adjectives and literary devices. Evadne dropped to her knees.
"Holy crap…" she muttered. "Cyn, did you call these people…?"
Cyn didn't answer, for she was off in a corner accosting H.G. Wells, clinging from his belt buckle and babbling animatedly about tripods.
Evadne shook her head and was about to hit her with a crankshaft when a whistle from the northwest caught her attention.
An informal…hickish whistle.
Yes, indeed, from the caverns of a plot twist, up a hill, shining fiercely against the sun, was the corn trucker.
And behind him was the entire population of Indiana.
"She's right there, y'all!" he shouted, and charged down the hill. Akin to the way the writers poured down the hill, the Hoosiers stampeded down their hill in a giant mob of calico and denim, waving corncobs and stump hole whiskey angrily. Some were driving tractors.
They gathered like a red neck puddle to the left of the writer's mob, glaring out from underneath their hunting caps.
"Now see what y'all did by hurtin' the corn?" said the corn trucker, waving a corncob in the vividly petrified Csara's face.
"Great grammar," commented J.K. Rowling from the over on the author's side.
"Why, thank ya missy," said the corn trucker, pushing his hat up his forehead with his thumb.
Anne Rice was about to say something, but the exultant blare of trumpets from behind Csara caught everyone's attention. And all the way from a sea of olive oil and wine, in glorious peninsula glory…
…the Praetorian Guard of ancient Rome crashed through the trees. At there head was none other than the Hoenheim-clam, not as a Jedi or a pirate, but wearing a toga and a laurel crown, dressed up as a Roman emperor.
"In vino veritas," he declared in fluent Latin. "Sic Semper Tyrannis!"
"Amen!"
Winry's voice came, and a Praetorian guard led a lovely chestnut horse from around the mass of Romans. The automail mechanic sat astride in a lacy wedding gown. In the crook of her arm was none other than the groom, the wrench, donning a charming black bow tie and top hat.
She nodded to Alphonse and gestured over her shoulder.
"We also brought the thinkers of Rome! Dante Alighieri thought it was a good idea."
Moving in ordered fashion came Virgil, Catullus, Cato, Cicero, Ennius, Horace, Juvenal, Livy, Carus, Ovid, Phaedrus, Tacitus, Seneca, Sallust, and the elder and younger Plinys, The formed a row in front of the Praetorian guard, crossing their arms and frowning with no-nonsense Latin exteriors. Virgil gave a discreet thumbs-up to Dante over in the writer's section.
She turned to Evadne and smiled.
"What? We all wanted a little slice of whoop-ass."
"Don't forget about us!"
Running from the east came Alex, Paul, Bob, and Nick of Franz Ferdinand.
"Sorry," Alex panted. "But with so many references to us in this fic, we couldn't help but be included in the climax."
Upon sighting her favorite band, Cyn gave a little squeal, released H.G Wells, and bounded over snuggling onto Paul's torso. Evadne raised an eyebrow, looking around at everyone.
"Well…is this everyone?"
The multitude of diversity nodded as one hateful mass.
"We're sick of her and her snobbish tit-tat!" exclaimed the corn trucker and his mass of Hoosiers.
"She brings bigoted ignominy onto our craft of creating illusory persons!" said the authors with their mad synonym skills.
"She wrongfully accused me of being a slut!" said Winry, looking up from kissing her husband's cold steel exterior.
"Non sequitur," chanted the Hoenhiem-clam, the Praetorian Guard, and the poets as a whole.
Everyone turned to look at Franz Ferdinand.
"Uhh…what?"
Everyone executed ground-shaking face faults, snapped back up to their feet, quickly recovered, raised their assorted weaponry, took one step toward Csara, when…
"I HAVE FRIED EGGS IN MY PANTS!" screamed Dru, who had apparently recovered.
THUMP. A large leather-bound etymology book came down squarely on the back of Dru's head, and the young woman fell over, flopping slightly on the ground, unconscious. Cyn smiled, and handed the book back to Robert Frost.
"Sorry for that, everyone," she said lightly. She then whipped out her large and badass implosion ray with a smile to beat Satan. "Let's do it."
Looking around at the horribly mad Hoosiers, viewing the angry faces of Yunaberrie and J.R.R Tolkein, the legions of pissed off Romans, that evil looking wrench, a sadistic Evadne grinning mordantly, Cyn in all her Martian glory, Jim and James twirling a dildo, Cato with a whip, Paul and Bob unsheathing guitars and drum sticks, one thought crossed Csara's mind several hours too late:
"I should run."
But there was no time for the thought to get down to her legs, for in an unleashed wave of wrath, like the Red Sea closing up, the surrounding mob charged forward with a scream fit to soothe the souls of all furies:
"GET HER!"
And in a rainbow of human mass they leaped on her, and what happened next was nothing short of an all out no-holds bashing dust-kicking orgy of violence.
Halcyon's Baka Hammer swung through the air and with one hand he sporadically fired his AK-47 into the air, and Sailor N whacked random things with the N Rod.
Brian Jacques, Herman Melville, C.S. Lewis and Emily Dickenson shot conjunctions, stabbed with quills, threw dictionaries, as Dan Brown and Roald Dahl and William Blake whipped with craftily formed metaphors and inlayed symbolism.
Whisky, car tires, and flaming corn whizzed through the air as the Hoosiers accosted with southern accents and soybeans. Franz Ferdinand swung through the crowd with guitar strings, harmonies, and melodies as they played their newest hit "Fallen."
Cyn was imploding spastically as Evadne disintegrated everything with one touch of her magic. The Praetorian Guard was in tortoise-formation, as the Hoenheim-emperor-clam called orders in Latin whilst the poets attacked with ancient philosophy, unstoppable bottles of olive oil, and caused the Colluseum to appear in the sky and fall down smack onto the Mary Sue. Through all this, the wrench circled gallantly, its adorable bow tie shining nobly in the sun.
As the carnage reached its peak, the earth buckled beneath the feet of the mob and the park fell in onto itself, trees and dust rising in a gigantic mushroom cloud documenting forever the world's distain with Mary Sues. It covered everything and rose 500 feet into the air, spiraling through with thick pillows of smoke.
When this dust cleared, all was quiet. The mob was standing shocked over what appeared to be Csara. But it wasn't.
Csara's cadaver resembled a balloon with air deflated from it. Bram Stoker poked it with a stick.
"Well, I'll be damned." Cyn toed her. "She had nothing inside her. She was shallow. All that existed was what lay on the outside."
Evadne walked up and stood next to Cyn.
"So are you saying we probably could've taken a pin and poked her anywhere, and she would've died."
"Yeah, pretty mu—ACH!"
Evadne clipped Cyn on the back of her black neck with a telephone pole, threw it to the side and abruptly jumped on the Martian and began wailing on her.
"WHY THE JIZ DIDN'T YOU KNOW THIS EARLIER? HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW MUCH TIME IT WOULD'VE FRIGGING SAVED ME! I LEFT IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ITALIAN OPERA TO GO SEND THIS LOUT TO HELL AND YOU'RE TELLING ME—"
The crowd slowly shuffled away from the Mary Sue, with murmurs of "Fuck, that was cool," and "Hm, I could really use a snickerdoodle." In the end, Alphonse was left standing there over the body of Ed.
The Fullmetal Alchemist's nose quivered, he opened his eyes slowly.
"Wha….? Al? Where am I…" he looked dully around. Al stood anxiously stared at his older brother. Was he back to normal? Or was he still under the influence of Csara?
"WHY THE FUCKING HELL ARE THERE FUCKING FRIED EGGS IN MY PANTS? WHY AM I SITTING IN DOG SHIT? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON !$! ASS !$&! DAMN !#$$&$7&$ SHIT BUGGER COCK-WHALLOP SKANK ASS FRIG!"
Alphonse exhaled a sigh of relief and turned to a bloodstained Evadne. Ed was unleashing a more vivid diatribe down on the ground.
"Well, my ears sting," Al said happily. "Brother's back to normal."
"That's nice to hear," she said vaguely. "Here's your bill."
She handed a sock to Alphonse, upon which was written the expense for their extermination project:
One and a-half Olives
Seven Lobster-style necklace clasps
One Novelty Thimble
Four "Gel-in" Shoe Inserts
Five "Rip-n-Slip" Brush-Offs.
Alphonse stared at this for a moment, then reached into his pocket and paid the Enchantress her dues.
"Great. Here's your receipt." She handed him half of a bullfrog, went over, and picked Cyn up by her ankles. She walked to the edge of the crater, stopped and waved.
"Thank you for using Mary Sue exterminators!" she called out. "Don't bother us again."
And with that, she turned and disappeared into the slowly setting sun.
Epilogue
The Mary Sue known as Isaura Naeva Csara Avari-Lluvia Chiali Efrosini Zitkalasa Akilina Avalbane was successfully decimated despite many obstacles and unwanted distractions. She arrived in the Realm at the feet of a very angry Trisha Elric, Egyptian lumberjack, and Maes Hughes.
After being chopped up, throttled with parental advice, and suffocated with pictures, Csara was damned to hell by Isis herself, who won the privilege off of King Hwan-In when she finally beat him in euchre (it was later discovered that she had cheated, and was sentenced to 30 days of not striking mortals with lightening as a punishment). Csara now serves as Lucifer's personal bitch.
Edward Elric accepted the fact that he was asexual and joined a mitosis support group comprised mainly of strawberry plants and sea sponges. He got a place of his own and spends his free time, when he's not working for the state, designing platform shoes. He was not allowed to use the Philosopher's Stone to regain his limbs, as the powers that be had taken a liking to Winry and wanted to keep her income stable.
Winry Rockbell changed her name to Winry Model DX-192 when she married her wrench. She lives in Resembool with her husband co-owning the automail business, and, though we never really will know how, is 2 months pregnant.
Alphonse Elric joined the State Alchemists and now leads a relatively normal life, but unnaturally rich now that he marketed his Kitty Mochas.
Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye were married in a fluffy ceremony during butterfly season in Mexico, and currently enjoy a passionate love life while sharing the same flat. They have root beer with Dante Alighieri once a week in the café where Al and Dru met.
Dru was never found after the killing climax of Csara was over. She resurfaced three and a half months later working as a manager of a Wal-Mart somewhere in Ohio, memory completely lost. Fortunately, it was quickly regained with a swift I-beam hit to the head, an action that Evadne expressed thanks for by plunging a rotary drill into Cyn's face.
Cyn returned to Mars and was delighted by her carbon monoxide air. She has regained her normal lifestyle of driving her tripod, rolling around in the red dust, disintegrating things, and plotting the downfall of the human race. However, she also has gained a gateway pass to Amestris, and their world can expect a few alien invasions in the future.
Evadne also returned with Dru to her parallel world, and fell easily into her lifestyle of killing and weekly genocides followed by heavy whiskey drinking "until her guts fall out."
The corn trucker and the Hoosiers returned to Indiana and sat on their porches and smoked their corncob pipes as they creaked away at their rocking chairs and talked about "that one time when we went tah kill that prissy gal?"
The authors and reviewers returned to their various places in the world, though not after reviewing this tediously worked on fic. Of course.
The guy of slow-mo resiliency was made an instant billionaire after his book sold. He spoke and traveled widely across the globe, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, the Pulitzer and the Goddamn-You're-A-Great-Guy Award. He now owns 33 mansions in exotic places across the world, all filled with topless harem hookers and lives off money dropped from jet airplanes.
The Hoenheim-clam-emperor-Jedi-pirate captain rode off in his chariot with the Romans not far behind. His whereabouts are currently unknown, although a police report did clarify that he is somewhere in Africa planning to annex the world's supply of Juicy Fruit.
In short, even though their lives were touched intimately and possibly inappropriately by the Mary Sue, no one was horribly scarred or lacerated. At least not that we can see. Because in the end, everyone lives happily ever after, even if it's not perfectly.
The EndA/N: :collapses on the ground, tongue out: Whoof. Demanding. But…fun. I really enjoyed writing this. And I hope you guys enjoyed reading this.
Cyn: And hey, if you liked Malleri's work in FMA, you might want to put her on author alert. We're dabbling in a conception that's a sequel to this, which involves two-foot rivers, casserole dishes, and a parody of Dante Alighieri's The Inferno. STAY TUNED!