Will turner and Enrique formidabble arrived in Panama.
"WE MUST KILL THE PIRATES!" Enrique cried in resolution! (he wore an eyepatch because his eye had been taken out (remember? (it was in chapter 2))))
"I hate to kill Jack," will said with remose "But if it is to free by beloved Elizabeth, THEN I MSUT DO IT!"
"BLESS MY SOUL I COULDNT GIVE TOO SHITS!" Enrique cryed exacperated. "WEMUST KILL THE PIRATES!"
(For as iturnedd out, ELIZABETH SWAN had been KIDBNAPED by Mexican president in roder for Will smith to work for him as personal immortal assassin!)
They were then ambushed by patrol!
"DIE STINKIN MEXICANS!" panama soldier rored.
"heh," Enrique laughed as Will turner killed patorlmen with awesome fighting siklls.
"HANG ON!" Enrique cryed, with keen eye for polt holes "Your only alowed to step on dry land once evry ten YEARS!"
Will nodded and pointed at feet. "Thats why I wear boots."
Enrique scratched head with confusion "hoo wrote this shit!"
Will turner was confuzed by genre savvy and so ignored Mexican villainoyus OC and continued on to find Jack and kill him.
Meanwhile, in the palace of Mexico City…
"Where did Sparrow go?" the figure snarled.
The Mexican President gasped as long, powerful claws held his throat. He was a metre above the ground, his legs kicking and bucking.
"P-Panama!"
The tall, darkened figure snapped the President's neck and dropped his corpse.
"Piece of shit extra character…" the figure grumbled.
Guards burst into the room, levelling their rifles at the hunched creature. They gasped.
"What is that thing?" the captain of the guards asked in horror.
"Me?" the figure asked, turning to look at them with soulless eyes. "I'm an Imp. Though, as I just killed this asshole of a dictator, I suppose you could call me… The Tyrannicidal Imp!"
He slowly withdrew the scythe from his back. One side of the blade burned with an orange fire, while the other pulsed with a violet hue.
"And I kill badfanfiction characters. From protagonists who are completely OOC, to Mary Sues, to misspelled fools, to those who present gaping plot holes, to baseless characters implemented by Deus Ex Machina, to dreaded OCs, to those especially built to troll, all the way to anyone who was afflicted by the Rouge Angles of Satan; and, above all, I will kill any self-insertion."
The guards gulped.
And like the symbolic figure of who he was representing, the Tyrannicidal Imp went about the reaping.
…And by that I mean he literally reaped the harvest and made some Weetabix. The terrifying creature shared it with the terrified guards.
"Y-You're not going to kill us?" the captain of the guards asked with wonder.
"Are you in any of the above?" the Tyrannicidal Imp asked politely. "You poor sods, you're no more than grunts who a more important character is supposed to kill or beat. You don't even have names, do you?"
The guards looked about themselves and realised with horror that the Imp was correct.
"Suddenly, life doesn't seem that great," a guard muttered.
"I'm afraid so," the Imp replied. "Only the author can name you and he's too busy writing this sentence."
Eventually, over many a shared bowl of Weetabix and dish of sake, the Imp revealed exactly what the fuck was going on.
"I managed to find this piece of shit story in the old fanfiction archives," the Imp revealed. "And I quickly realised that this was a troll fic of utter depravity. Although I may not hold any loyalty to the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, I knew this travesty must be destroyed. So I reposted this story on a place called and threw myself into it; to wipe it out completely from the inside."
"But…" the captain of the guards, who I'll call Bob, said, "Doesn't that mean you're a self-insertion? One of the things you're trying to destroy?"
The Imp shook his head. "I'm not the author, so I can't be a self-insertion. I simply named the profile after myself and left one of my agents in charge of filling in the rest."
"So you've got a guy writing these words as we're saying it?"
"No. I've got a guy writing a new chapter while this sentence is being read. Everything we've done or will do has already been decided by the author. I've just left him instructions to make sure I kill every clichéd character in this damn story."
"So… who's your agent writing this?"
"A guy I found who can at least spell correctly," the Imp sighed. "He's called 'He's Dangerous' and he writes shitty Transformers fanfiction. I chose him because he likes killing off characters. I thought 'Perfect!' and busted into his house, then paid him to put me into this story."
"So… you've entrusted this 'He's Dangerous' to make you kill off this story's main characters and then get you out of there pronto?"
"Exactly. The only reason we're having this conversation is for the reader's benefit; now they have an actual clue as to what's going on."
"But… what if this 'He's Dangerous' changes things?"
"…What?"
Bob elaborated. "If half of this story is someone else's fanfiction being reposted and the other half is being written about how you're going to go on a murderous rampage… do you trust 'He's Dangerous' enough that you're sure he won't change the first half."
The Imp chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "He wouldn't dare… after all, this is my profile!"
(Hehehe)
"What was that?" Bob cried in alarm.
"What?" the Imp asked hurriedly.
"It sounded like laughing…"
(Unbeknownst to this foolish creature, I've changed his profile picture from an awesome water-colour masterpiece of a terrifying enemy into a funny little 2-D creature I got off Google images!)
"It was probably nothing," Bob said, relieved (as I had just wiped his memory). "What were we talking about?"
The Imp shrugged. There was an awkward silence.
One of the guards broke it; "Imp, what do you think of the Pirates movies?"
The Imp shrugged again. "Well, the first one was okay, I mean it wasn't Laurence of Arabia or anything, but it was watchable. Then the next two came out…"
"I admit, those two got a bit too big for their britches!" Bob laughed, which was agreed by all the average Joes.
"And the fourth one?" the Imp laughed. "Pfft! Now that was bad fanfiction!"
Laughter rang throughout the hallowed halls as the author began writing the next chapter in earnest, leaving the Imp and his friends to their own devices.
"So, you're sure that your agent won't change anything about the original fanfiction until you start interfering with it personally?" Bob asked carefully.
"I wouldn't have picked him if I didn't trust him," the Imp said, although uneasily.
"Oh yeah and by the way; what exactly is the title of this story we're unfortunately in?"
"Ha!" the Imp laughed. "That was the worst thing about it; what a pretentious, caps-locked crappy title;
"JACK SPARROW IN THE SEARCH FOR SHANGRI-LA !"