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ClicheCamp IV: Bonfire of the Vanities
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"Entrae a'allanae mannaa . . . FIRAGU!" The slender young woman cried, silver hair flowing as her green eyes turned a glittering gold. She raised marble-white hands, gathering her strength into a great, glowing sphere of fire- the Firagu spell, sacred power of the Ice Maidens of the Northern Crater. Spinning, the lovely maiden hurled the ball of flame against the stone walls of the prison, hoping against hope that it might pierce the barrier that the treacherous sorcerer had constructed . . .
And watched in dismay as the uncanonical spell fizzled, disappearing with a small *poof* and leaving behind the faint smell of Listerine.
"Givest thee it up, Icia Crystallus," the beautiful Torina, Goddess of Thunder, said grumpily. "I hast tried thine damn walls six timeseth. 'Tis truly a stupid idea, I fear."
"Oh, so we're just supposed to GIVE UP, huh?!" another voice spoke up. Kara, the warrior-woman who had so nobly saved Seifer Almasy's life when Odin had been too powerful for him to defeat, was stomping around the chamber in a manner that was supposed to be brave and fearless. In reality, it was just petulant. "Yeah, right, whatever. But REAL warriors try again, idiot!"
With no further ado, she marched up to the wall and took a swing at it with her enchanted fairy blade. Instead of making the expected slash in the stone wall, the sword rebounded and clonked her with its flat. Torina began to snicker.
"Thou is a pretty lousy warrior, Lady Kara. Where didst thee learneth, preschool?"
"That's it!" Kara yelled, rounding on her. "You and me, bitch! We'll find out who's the best around here!"
Torina leapt to her feet, lightning crackling around her hands as she invoked the power of the Great Goddess of Magic, whose rightful daughter she was. "Bringest it oneth, foolish mortal! Thee have laid false claim to Rufus Shinra long enough!"
Actually, Kara's object of desire was Seifer, but the mention of the other sadistic blonde made her drool just the same. "Well, DUH!" she responded, moving into the Falling Dragon Fairy Queen of Moon and Starlight Crystal Sea Serpent King fighting stance- a mere one of the ten thousand martial arts she had mastered by the age of five. "He is SO mine! Hands off!"
The Thunder Goddess couldn't ignore such a well-reasoned argument, and without further ado, the two flew at each other's throats. Reacting to their inbred Lust Genes, the Marty Stans in the paddock formed a ring around the two combatants, each rooting for the favorite while Aria Songstrike, the gorgeous Songstress and the true love of Setzer Gabbiani, began to immediately collect bets. (One might almost suspect that she had dealt with men and money before, in a- hmmm- more professional capacity?) The other Mary Sues, however, being [slightly] less bloodthirsty than their male counterparts, settled for bitchy glares and severe pouting.
And, staring through the Air Force-quality plexiglass window, Tifa Lockheart shrugged. Slowly, deliberately, she pursed her lips, considering the battling Sues. Then she turned to face the others.
"As you see," the martial artist said calmly, running her steely gaze over each student in turn, "Each Mary Sue is only perfect in its own setting. Put them in close proximity with each other, and they begin to break down into a chaotic state. I'm sure Professor Cid or Professor Hojo would be more than glad to tell you all about it."
The room was as silent as the grave. All the students were staring wide-eyed at the plexiglass, eyes on the battling Mary Sues. Actually, most of them were staring at the Marty Stans, all of whom were actually the long-lost half-brothers of Vincent, Cloud, Sephiroth, Zidane, Kuja, Squall, Zell, Locke, Butz, Setzer, Edgar, Kain, or Cecil. Tifa, who had been looking back at the fight with a slight degree of professional interest, now glanced down suspiciously. A thin drail of drool was making its way across the classroom floor.
"TEN-HUT!" she yelled, in a decent parade-ground imitation of Squall Leonhart. The students responded immediately, heads snapping towards their teacher; the allure of the Marty Stans was temporarily broken. Tifa had made it perfectly clear on the first day of class (Myths and Monsters 101: Mary Sue Detection and Prevention) that she had been assigned the room adjoining the 'Sue pit for a reason, and she expected complete compliance and discipline among her students. One of them, Mystik-chan, had audibly scoffed at the brunette fighter, and the other students- by now painfully acquainted with OFUFF discipline- had expected a vicious punishment. After all, those Tiger Fang gloves were just a little bit too new and shiny for someone turned schoolteacher . . .
But Tifa hadn't shouted. She hadn't insulted. She hadn't summoned world-destroying beasts from beyond the known cosmos. Instead, she'd told Mystik-chan to bring the Mary Sues their daily rations of the food and cosmetics they'd been assigned. (It's a rarely-known fact that Mary Sues literally absorb lipstick and mascara for one of their vital nutrients, Vitamn seXXX. Miss J and the Headmaster had given orders that these Sues be kept alive at all costs, and so Revlon was sent in with the food every day. The appearance of the makeup generated a feeding frenzy rather less polite than that of your average school of hammerheads.)
It had seemed a simple enough task, and Mystik had complied with little fuss. The entire group had watched in horror as the monstrous Marys, assuming the new girl to be a Bitchy!canon, had taken her apart. And, as with everything else at OFUFF, that was meant literally. Tifa had had to call Phoenix out of the shower to deal with the remains, and Mystik-chan had yet to make another peep of complaint in class.
"Now then," Tifa said, once her class's eyes were back on her, "We'll return to the lesson." She flicked a switch on the teacher's desk, and a heavy tungsten plate slid over the plexiglass window, hiding the blinding radiance of the 'Sue pit from the students' eyes. Once the glare was gone, Tifa removed her protective goggles.
The goggles, it is to be noted, were the latest creation of OFUFF's scientific staff. Headed by a committee of Cids, the Science Department had finally managed to create an Evil Color all the university's own, and soon every teacher was wearing glorkle-resistant sunglasses or contacts. Although, if you wanted to be technical, glorkle wasn't a color- it was a retina-scorching combination of glitter, glow, and sparkle, the three effects that no horrendous original character seemed to be without. Unlike urple or wilver, which physically made one sick, glorkle instead went for the shock tactic approach by burning cataracts into one's eyes and, at least in milder forms, inducing instantaneous migraines. Anti-glorkle glasses were now standard equipment for anyone working in or near the Mary Sue pits, and they'd done a great deal to reduce temporary insanity in the staff.
Nobody bothered to equip the students. They were already beyond hope.
"You have seen the Mary Sue in action." Tifa said, jerking her head towards the tungsten barrier that now hid the quarrelling OCs from their creators. "You have watched the 'Sue argue, feed, and, on one unfortunate occasion, mate. But what all of you and many thousands of others have missed is one simple fact: not all original characters need to be Sues or Stans. In order to avoid turning a decent character into a walking pile of choco-crap, you need to learn to recognize certain warning signs."
She was pacing among the desks now, occasionally eviscerating a student with a single glare. "You!" she said suddenly, pointing to Keroka, who was currently occupied with a bag of Gummy Moombas. "What is one common Mary Sue trait?"
Keroka chewed for a while, looking blank. Finally, she seemed to cudgel her sugar-addled brain into action, and managed to drawl out "Uh . . . they're . . . really special all the time?"
"Precisely!" Tifa said, whirling around to face the blackboard. She strode forward and pulled down a furled scroll that hung from the top of the board, jabbing emphatically at it with one finger. COMMON MARY SUE CHARACTERISTICS, the heading read.
"They're always special. Not just special, mind you, but MAGICAL. If you ever meet a woman who's more powerful than Sephiroth, more beautiful than Rosa, Rydia, Terra, and Celes combined, more innocent than Aeris and simultaneously sluttier than Scarlett, than you have met a Mary Sue. Walking contradictions, the lot of them.
"Ten primary characteristics of Mary Sues have been identified by our most Sue-resistant personnel. This is the Master List, and it should be tattooed on the forehead of everyone who EVER wrote the phrase 'firy mane of red-gold flowing beauty.' In fact, if my proposal gets through to the Headmaster, it will be. So start memorizing this NOW. I will recite them once, and then you're on your own."
Tifa was pacing again, not even bothering to look at the scroll as her students frantically began copying. This sounded like test material, and that was bad news. They all knew that Tifa's idea of a test involved essay questions, and that the makeup test involved heavy gloves and a psychotic Moogle named Lockhaert. Studying was imperative.
The martial artist's voice was like a Gatling gun as she recited. "The ten most commonly identified characteristics of the Mary Sue story are:
"One: the Bait and Switch. The Mary Sue story attempts to escape being classified as such by starting out the relevant male protagonist with a canon female, and then conveniently getting rid of her.
"Two: Ignominy. At some point in the story, the Mary Sue is enslaved/raped/forced to marry against her will/kidnapped- you get the idea. This is usually done either in a supposed attempt to make her sympathetic or to provide an opportunity for the hero to charge in and rescue her.
"Three: the Daisy Chain. The story in question consists almost entirely of a sadomasochistic chain of events wherein the spunky and rebellious protagonist perserveres through all, despite a terrible childhood, life as a slave, being raped by her master, and so on."
Tifa paused a moment, and considered. "I believe the prescribed punishment for that crime is to actually make the author live through the background they've created for their character."
Audible gulp from all the students.
"Here's a logic tip, kids. Sephiroth had a horrible childhood, too. How well did he turn out?"
"Hot!" one of the braver students volunteered from the back.
"Homicidal." Tifa corrected. "While having a good-looking villain IS significantly easier on the eyes when entertaining thoughts of revenge, it kind of loses its charm after seeing him stab your best friend through the back.
"And yes, Aeris and I WERE friends. 'Catfight' fics are completely OOC- Out of Character. Another term you need to learn. And did anyone actually READ the game's dialogue?
"Four: Mysticism. The Mary Sue is actually the mortal manifestation of a goddess, an ancient deity, or some other strange, wise, and powerful being. This is normally accompanied by the Weary Burden and the Deus Ex.
"Five: the Deus Ex Machina. One of the most common of the Mary Sue characteristics. Deus ex machina means 'god out of the machine'; a deus ex character usually features highly unlikely powers that are obviously custom-cut to complement or beat out a canon character. A good example of this is if an original character written for the Matrix could beat Neo inside a computer simulation. Everything that can't be done, this character can do.
"Six: the Weary Burden. The Mary Sue's powers are unwanted, and her mission- whatever it may be- is often accompanied by lamenting and heavy angst. This, of course, gives the canon hero a chance to comfort, reassure, and screw her.
"Seven: One-Upmanship. A version of the Deus Ex. Even if a canon character is a complete super-genius (as in the case of Bulma Briefs from Dragonball Z) the Mary Sue will mysteriously be smarter and more efficient than him or her. Not only that, but the Mary Sue will be humble about it, and thus make everyone love her even more.
"Eight, and THE most common of all: Dazzling Beauty- just what it sounds like. The OC is not only smart and powerful, but amazingly good-looking and sexy. Bonus points if the author uses phrases like "sweeping crest of untamed golden beauty, trailing like a comet's tail over slim shoulders and curling in a lover's gentle touch against milk-white skin" to say the character has blonde hair.
"Nine: 'It's All My Fault!'. The character wallows in pretentious angst over some incident that happened years ago. While acceptable when used in moderation, this incident is often replayed over and over again, giving rise to further angstiness. Usually employed just to give the hero a chance to comfort her.
"Ten: 'It's All My Fault!,' part two. A new villain arises, and the Mary Sue is either (1) responsible for his/her coming, (2) sent to combat him/her, (3) a hero who failed to stop him/her alone, or (4) out for revenge because of something this new villain did. ('He murdered my father, and I've sworn to stop him!') Again, usually employed as a chance for the hero to comfort the original heroine.
"Any questions?"
VulpixMoomba raised her hand. "Yeah, what are all the 'Sues in the pit for?"
Tifa's left eye twitched.
By the time it was open again, VulpixMoomba was slowly sliding down the wall, leaving a trail of what appeared to be glorkle paint. All of the students screamed reflexively and ducked, several rolling right out of their chairs in the effort to avoid the horrendous glare, which was filling the classrom with blinding radiance not unlike that of a hydrogen bomb. Tifa nodded appreciatively and looked up at the high ceiling, where a black chocobo was hovering with an empty bucket in its beak.
"Thank you, Shni-Ra. Tell Professor Cid that the glorkle-resistant contacts work fine. Oh, and go fetch the janitorial detail. Somebody had better get Savannah out of the vent system."
* * *
It was 9:00 PM on a Saturday night, and an emergency meeting of the Determined Rebels against Official OFUFF Laws (D.R.O.O.L.) was being called in one of the girls' dorm rooms.
"All right," Chairman Axalia (elected on the grounds that she sounded the coolest when monologuing) declared. "Tomorrow is Sunday, and we all know what that means. The pea-soup fog and dimes are already appearing on the slopes outside, and our time is getting short. We MUST NOT let them complete another session of Clich�Camp!"
"Huzzah!" Declared Assistant Chairman Xylia Greene. Timrah, who had been put in the girls' dorms on account of the fact that he was a Gay Ronso Luster, nodded enthusiastically and clutched his plushie of Kimahri tighter.
"Timrah not like nasty camp," he muttered, tears streaming down his face. "First time Timrah go to camp, evil bastard Seymour say Timrah dumber than a sack of hammers. Because of camp, Timrah spend rest of day with no brain function. Then the Luv chase Timrah and try to mate with him. Timrah no happy."
"As you can see," Axalia broke in, staring around at the assembled fangirls, "We're in trouble. Already, several of our best warriors have turned to Evil. Dana Ebersol, tell us what you've heard."
Dana stood up. She still wore the spangly gold outfit that Seifer had shoved her into for the Mary Sue group activity the week before; somehow, the extreme shininess of the fabric had bonded it to her skin. In one hand, she held the pamphlet that Lily had given her.
"Fellow members of D.R.O.O.L.," she began, "We're in serious doody. A student organization calling itself the Jenova's Witnesses is recruiting people, and it's really hurting our cause. The Jenova's Witnesses don't write fanfic, 'cuz they say they're "not worthy" and they gotta be 'purified'. And if one of them sees a character they like, they don't even talk to 'em. They just kinda . . . bow." There were gasps all around the circle of fangirls. "Yeah, and they're doing the crazy work too!" Dana cried. "AND they're sucking up to the Moogles! The Witnesses are messing us up!" She flopped down indignantly.
"Because of the Jenova's Witnesses," Axalia said solemnly, "A great warrior has fallen. Lily Blossom, also known as PowerballZ, author of the Crossover Cid Strip-Club Yaoi Leather Boyz Fic-" everybody bowed their heads at the name of the sacred text- "has joined the Witnesses and now preaches the heretical doctrine known as Canon. Nobody's quite sure what the heck Canon IS, but the teachers won't shut up about it, and if you ask me that's proof enough of its evil-ness. Unless we act quickly, the Crossover Yaoi Mistress will be lost to us."
If this had been a convention of Lord of the Rings fangirls, there would have been moderate wailing and clashing of shields. It wasn't, so they all settled for looking bummed-out. Axalia appeared grim.
"However- our spies tell us that the Jenova's Witnesses will play an important part in tomorrow's Clich�Camp. At a pre-established signal, we will rise up and take over the camp, kidnapping PowerballZ and destroying the rest of the Witnesses in a blast of righteous fury. Once their disgusting influence is cleansed from this University, we will install ourselves as its staff and teach students how to write cool fanfic, not some boring no-fun thingy where you can't change ANYTHING. Then the world of Final Fantasy will be fun again- for spoof, lustice, and the Uncanonic Way!"
"Freedom!" Xylia shrieked.
"FREEDOM!" the rest of the girls joined in.
"And once we're in control of the university," Axalia yelled, waving her arms as she leapt onto the unoccupied bed, "The characters we adore will be free of the evil influences and realize our genius! We will bring to fankind an era of peace! An era of truth! An era of prosperity and wild monkey-love in the broom closet! FREEEEDOOOOMMMMM!"
Meanwhile, somewhere in a Mel Gibson movieverse, William Wallace sneezed.
* * *
"The students seem different, somehow," Lucrecia murmured, peering out through the front flap and watching the various groups of fanboys and fangirls stumble their way down the muddy slope towards the Clich�Camp tents. "There's something about them . . . something I can't quite put my finger on."
"They're smiling?" Cecil volunteered.
"They're on time?" Red XIII offered.
"They're obviously planning an armed insurrection?" Rufus Shinra commented. The assembled staff members looked back at the approaching students, glanced at each other, and nodded in silent agreement.
Kuja crossed his arms, somehow oblivious to the freezing winds despite wearing what was essentially a metal bikini. "Should we crush them quickly, or let them get their false hopes up?" he wondered, idly juggling a fireball in one hand. "It's been a while since I had a good fight . . . "
"Silence!" Lucrecia snapped, smacking the hand that held the fireball. "DO YOU NOT REMEMBER THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR FOOLISHNESS?"
The female scientist had long ago discovered that the best way to deal with recalcitrant villains was to pretend to be Bahamut, an impression which she carried off with an unnerving amount of success. Kuja cringed and looked at his feet.
"Forgotaboutthecanvas, verysorryma'amwon'thappenagain . . . "
At that moment, Zell Dincht, heavily gelled hair askew, came jogging up to report. "Hojo reports that a large amount of cutlery is missin' from the dining hall," he announced, skidding to a stop. "Mostly knives and forks, but the students in the Sisterhood of Slash all took spoons and pots of honey."
"Pots of-?" Barret began.
"Crossover Cid Yaoi," Cloud cut in, looking grim. "Written by our own Miss Blossom, I believe. The scene in the back room of the bar, where Cid K. and Cid H. get plastered, and they get the spoons and the honey and start-"
Cid Kramer shuddered. "Please, don't remind me. I had nightmares for three weeks after I read that one."
"Our Cid didn't exactly like it either," Cloud responded. "That was what originally inspired him to add air-to-surface missiles onto the Highwind."
Before the conversation could continue, Miss J emerged from the closest tent and . She wore glorkle-resistant sunglasses and was carrying a cattle prod, and her gray clothes were spattered with mud.
"It's time." She said calmly. "The students are assembling, and the 'Sues are ready. Odin, Gilgamesh, would you please divide the crowd?"
The two Summons nodded and at once plunged into the milling masses of students. Like wolves in a herd of unusually glittery sheep, they cut the group into two, with Odin and Sleipnir watching over one and Gilgamesh, numerous arms folded menacingly, staring the other into submission. Miss J stepped forward with the HP Shout, and addressed the students.
"Well, congratulations," she said, looking out over the twitching crowd. "You've made it this far. If you survive today, then you're effectively home free. Key word, 'effectively.' You see, today's session wasn't included in the original plan, so things may get a bit . . . out of hand.
"Originally, we were only going to have three days of Clich�Camp. But the High Priest of the Jenova's Witnesses- Yakuza Princess, I saw that gesture. Report to the Moogle Breeding Pits after dinner- came to me and asked permission to purify the University and its students. You see, the Witnesses believe that the flame of Canon must burn away all previous fanfiction sins before a person can write correctly, in a purifying process is known as dehackization.
"Now, we're here to educate. Yet we've spent three days in Clich�Camp and nothing we said seems to have taken effect. So we consulted with the Headmaster and figured, oh what the heck, why not?" A massive grin snaked its way across her face. "Officially, of course, we've got nothing to do with this. But if any of the staff wants to chip in . . . it's a free country. So welcome to the downside of pagan funtime, boys 'n' girls. Magic, Greenwich style. We've got human sacrifice. We've got cheese and crackers. Take it away, Trueborn!"
At that moment, a hundred conveniently placed torches burst into flame, forming a circle of fire in the area between the two groups of students. TruebornChaos, a sub-priest of the Jenova's Witnesses, stepped forward. He looked rather like a red and gold Ark esper, swathed in a long black robe and marked with the Witnesses' sacred symbols. (The Squaresoft symbol and the X, square, triangle, and circle of a Playstation controller.) In one hand, he carried the Gunge Lance, and Kefka's fluorescent feather was tied to it with a few strands of Garnet's hair. The total effect was rather like an Indian brave from an old Western, if old Westerns had been set the dressing rooms of Las Vegas showgirls.
As TC stepped into the circle of torches, he raised the other hand for quiet. It took a few whacks from the butt of Lion Heart and the Ultima Weapon to get the massed fangirls and fanboys to be silent, but TC obviously had time. He surveyed the crowd with glittering eyes, cowled dramatically under the deep hood. Fear ran through the students. It was a cardinal rule of OFUFF: someone appears calm. He asks politely for you to stop something. Maybe he asks again. Then he unleashes the world-destroying power, and the next thing you know, you're on your knees scrubbing out Neo-Bahamut's litterbox and wondering where it all went wrong.
"Fellow writers," he announced, voice echoing around the silent valley. "We have been vain and idle. We have been called to the Altar of the most final fantasies, and what have we done? Defamed and destroyed them! We have put words in mouths. We have minced words. We have chewed scenery. We have turned magnificent stories of unimaginable heroism and tortured villainy into 'u r kewl!!!!! plz slepe w/me!!!!'" TC shuddered disgustedly. "Immortals that once milked the drama of the human condition now deal exclusively in cheese. Many of these tortured creatures are forced to constantly play with sharp objects, in hopes of boring a hole in themselves and letting the sap run out. This Cannot Continue."
Somehow, the assembled students felt the extraneous capitalization. Whatever was going to happen, the staff obviously meant Business.
"Tonight, we of the Jenova's Witnesses will purify this University. The cleansing fire, the fire that burns within every true writer's breast-"
Cue appropriate snickering from the yuri fans. Rydia frowned and pulled a lever, and the laughter was suddenly cut off by the sound of a trapdoor closing and a faint descending scream.
"- will burn away your baser instincts and leave only True Canon in their place. Tonight, Truth shall triumph over Lust and Low Comedy. Lord High Sephiroth, I call upon you to begin the Purification."
Sephiroth stepped forward into the circle of torches, and a very different sort of hush descended over the crowd. In the flickering firelight, orange glow illuminating the predawn darkness, the legendary villain looked ten feet tall. He seized a torch from the ring and strode to the very center of the ring.
Casually, he removed one leather glove and dropped it to the ground. It is a testimony to the majesty of the moment that not a single fangirl dived for it.
"Slashes to slashes," Sephiroth intoned, lowering the torch ever so slowly. "Lust to lust."
The flame touched the glove. Instantly, a gigantic burst of heat and light scorched the dim grey morning, knocking every student within twenty yards head over heels with the shockwave. Sephiroth himself remained unmoved, though his silver bangs were lightly singed at the tips. A gigantic fire was now crackling in the center of the ring where only the glove had been.
"The fire is kindled," he said. "It must be fed."
One by one, canon characters stepped forward, each contributing an item to the blazing fire. Rydia threw in a green veil, Squall sacrificed one of his belts, Zidane produced a few hairs plucked from his monkey tail. With each new item, the fire blazed higher and higher, turning bizarre colors and flashing with a momentary burst of lighting or hissing as though water had been poured on it. Even the chocobos dropped in a feather or two each. Of all the canons, only the Moogles did not contribute; instead, they watched the fire from the shadows, sizing up the situation and obviously wondering if it would count against them to eat a fangirl while the staff was occupied.
When the canons had finished, TruebornChaos took center stage again. "The Purifying Flame, the flame of the True Writer, now burns before us," he called, gesturing with the spear to the fire. "Kindled with true fire and the will of a canonical legend, fed by the substance of the world we strive to be worthy of."
"Sheesh, can't they hurry it up already?" Dana whispered to Xylia. "When's the cue for the mutiny?"
"When Lily starts doing her part," the other hissed back. "I wish they'd just go ahead and try to burn us alive or whatever they're planning to do. All this talktalktalk is just boring. Too bad they didn't have Sephiroth cut his chest and start the fire with his blood- that would've been cool."
"The blood or the fact that he'd be shirtless?"
"Both. And then Cloud and Zack could run out to comfort him, and realize that they'd all loved each other and that all this meanness to fangirls was just a way of working out their sexual tension . . . "
"Oh geez, don't say that! Now I gotta go take a cold shower."
The conversation would have continued in that enlightened vein, but the boom of a gigantic drum nearly made them jump out of their skin. As Dana realigned her nose holes (ever since the first Clich�Camp, the entire world of OFUFF had become distressingly literal. Many students were still in the hospital wing, recovering from the effects of characterizing themselves with "burning eyes."), the drum thundered again, and the Moogles began a chant- a droning, eerie, unintelligible song, punctuated with sporadic stomps on the ground or clashing of weapons. Dana, not one to watch British TV from the 1970s, did not recognize the "Pie Jesu domine, dona aeis requiem" - WHACK - "Pie Jesu domine" - WHACK - that, while not exactly canon to this particular universe, fitted the occasion nicely. Stray, recruited to provide the appropriate feline sounds at regular intervals, was biting a pillow of catnip and yowling lustily.
And now one of the tents at the far end of the valley opened, and a brilliant light shone out from the raised flap. It was Omega Weapon, dragging the mithril chains of the first of several hundred Mary Sues. Goddess Sues, Gothic Sues, Evil-Turned-Good Sues, Wah-Wah-Victim Sues, Self-Insert Sues, Aeris' Half Sister Sues, Sephiroth's Half Sister Sues, Songfic Sues, Angsty!Sues, Noble!Sues, I-Can-Beat-Everyone-With-One-Hand-Tied-Behind-My-Back-Sues, Immature!Sues, Tragic!Sues, and dozens more, every color and description, all of them perfect. The glare of pure, sparkly Evil was so intense that the staff members immediately donned stylish shades. The students, who were too busy looking for their creations in the mass of prisoners, barely noticed the retina-scorching glare.
"ALICIA!" screamed a fangirl, breaking the silence. "That's mine! That's me! Alicia Sungoddess! Why's she in there? She didn't do anything wrong!"
"Hey, hold it!" another voice yelled out of the crowd. "Kerana's not a Mary Sue! Leave her alone!"
Then the floodgates opened. (Fortunately, they opened elsewhere. Damn loose similes.) Shrieks erupted all over the crowd as students recognized their creations, which were currently struggling in chains as the various staff members shoved them forward. Once more, TruebornChaos raised his hands for silence.
"QUIET!" he bellowed. "Do not be deceived! They look human, they sound human, but they are not alive! They're creatures of pure darkness, corrupting! Destroying! Ensnaring! They turn a meaty storyline into over-processed ham, and strew the path of Canon with traps and pitfalls! We must immolate them in the fire, or all is lost! This salvation of your immortal soul brought to you by the Jenova's Witnesses. Bake sales every second Tuesday. Do you understand the urgency of our cause?!?!"
"Watch the flying punctuation, dammit!" someone yelled back. TC whirled around, fixing the fanboy in question with an evil stare.
"Suppose we release the Mary Sues," he said in a soft voice, completely unlike the ranting Southern revival preacher he had been a moment before. "Suppose we release them, and no longer punish any offense against canon. Suppose we let you write what you like, and no longer teach plot structure and characterization at this university. Do you know what would happen?"
"FUN!" a voice responded.
"CHAOS!" TC bellowed.
"Yes?"
"Not you. If nobody monitored Canon, then it would cease to exist. Fanfiction writers in any way, shape or form write because they are inspired by the characters and stories that they see. If badfic and Mary Sues run rampant, those characters and stories disappear. THAT is why it is necessary to fight crooks with crookery. Firy hair with the genuine element. And that is why, before Purifying this University, we have decided to begin with the creation of something a little . . . different.
"You are all familiar with the Necklace of Noncanon Enhancement, created by the writing of too many uncanonical spells. The Luv, of course, is the product of cheesy romance. Other Universities have more deadly weapons, such as the Switch of Character Banishment and Miss Cam's Paddle."
A shudder ran through the crowd.
"Therefore, tonight we will create something different. Something special. From the ashes of these Mary Sues we will forge a Pencil- a Pencil such as Final Fantasy has never seen! These carbonized UnCanons will form its lead; its eraser shall be made of the rubberized essence of a hero character on the emotional rebound. Its wood is the wood that is knocked on before entering a boss battle. Its yellow paint is squeezed from the yellow hides of characters who overuse the 'Hide' function. And with this Pencil in hand, we shall create a new and glorious Character Class, the one that makes and destroys worlds- the Scribe!"
It is not necessary to detail the long and grueling process of the Mary Sues' entirely timely fate. Suffice to say that bra straps were snapped, several male students had to be restrained against becoming suddenly Heroic, Natalia Silverwing attempted to cast Comet2 on Yuna and was subsequently pounded into the ground by Shiva, Ifrit, Yojimbo, and Valeforce, misogynistic comments were uttered by the villains (including Ultimecia) who were dealing with the sparkly captives, and a 'Sue named Malaria suffered a rather unfortunate alteration after she "struggled manfully" against her chains.
As dawn crept over the eastern sky and the last of the 'Sues, kicking and screaming, disappeared from view, a massive explosion rocked the ground. A Bomb leapt out of the flames, clutching something in one glowing hand, and crept towards Miss J with his prize. She nodded and took the object from him, examining it critically. Then she turned and handed it to the Fighter, who passed it to the Black Mage, and down the line of Final Fantasy characters. Shuyin, the newest, flipped the small yellow thing up in the air and caught it. It was a pencil. A plain, slightly scorched-looking pencil.
"That's it?" Dana whispered to Xylia. "Shouldn't it glow, or change colors or something?"
"Nah. It's canon. That stuff is never cool-looking."
"The Pencil is completed." TC tolled. "Now we need only Scribes to be worthy of it. Let our newest initiate come forth and call the names of the ones to be Purified."
A young blonde woman, robed and painted in the same way that all the Witnesses were, stepped forward with a scroll. She opened her mouth to say the first name, but it never came out-
Because dozens of fangirls angrily rose up at the same time, brandishing their cutlery and bottles of condiments. They rushed the circle in a great mass, bolting through the seemingly shocked staff members to seize the blonde Witness by the arms. Above the sudden eruption of voices and the screams of the enraged otakus, the voice of Axalia shrieked:
"Take back the University! For lust! For bad slash! For sex in the closet and inventive uses of soft fruit! REMEMBER THE MARYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"