DOUBLE LINES

DOUBLE LINES!!

Ok, first to those who have read the prequel to this, The Sue Slayers: A New Fangirologist. Welcome back, thanks for being patient, I read Artemis Fowl 6, it was good, run on sentences are annoying and bananas are nice.

To those who haven't stepped into the world of the Slayers (and it is a mildly interesting one, may I add!) Hello. My name is Nicola…but you can call me whatever the hell you want. And you are about to enter a slightly deranged world of Mary Sues, flamers, clichés and obscure Australiana references, i.e. Cheese and vegemite toasties. Mmm. Toasties.

And addressing the whole stinkin' lot of ya, let the sequel….BEGIN!

Oh, you don't have to have read the prequel…it's kind of in the Artemis Fowl section so that could make it a little difficult for some of you.

DISCLAIMER: Do I look like James Patterson to you? I really hope not.

The Sue Slayers Sequel

Chapter One (I will keep track this time, I will!)

Alliteration is Fuuuuuuun!

You know you've had a crappy day when the highlight is someone throwing up on your shoes.

Alex coughed and a few more chunks splattered into the-Oh Miyazaki. Not my Converse.

I stepped back carefully, trying to avoid splashback.

"Honestly." I said. "If you're going to behave like this every time we meet Maximum Ride, I'm gonna make you eat that."

xOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxOxO

Ignore that. It comes in later.

But seriously. It had been a pretty crappy day-

We digress.

Hello, I'm Clare Martin and I'll be your protagonist this fic.

And of course you say, "Clare? Don't tell me you're some Mary Sue with her own Flock and superpowers! I want some Fax! Where's my Fax?"

You'll get your Fax. Just be patient.

The age…14.

The country of origin…I'ma livin' inna Land Downunder.

Australia, nimrod.

The PIN Number, address and mother's maiden name…are none of your business.

I live in the world's most liveable city, Melbourne.

Underground.

Like, underneath Federation Square with the rest of the (Mary) Sue Slayers.

We cut out the Mary because:

a) It doesn't fit on the badges,

b) It sounds clunky and,

c) alliteration is fuuuuuuun!

I'm a Sue Slayer. I fight Mary Sues, bad OCs, Shippers, Flamers and Miley Cyrus music throughout the galaxies. It's the most important job in the Slayers, no matter what the Canonists say.

Canonist. Noun. An expert on a minimum of five Canon characters.

And of course, the Fangirologists and Researchers. Fangirologists are Fangirl hunters and Researchers are the bottom of the food chain, researchers of fics which need a little…lets just call it TLC.

Et cetera, et cetera.

So, where does the shoe spew come into this?

Well, the day had started pretty early. Which means badly, of course.

"ALL SENIOR PERSONNEL, THIS IS A RED ALERT. RED ALERT. ALL SENIOR PERSONNEL, RED AL-"

You get the general idea. That message, along with a high pitched wailing was blasting through the PA system.

I rolled over onto a stack of comics I had been reading, blinked, and squinted at the time.

Two forty…six. In the morning.

What.

The.

Hell.

Someone was going to pay.

I flipped on the light, found my black rimmed glasses and stoggured (not a typo!) out of bed.

I flung open the door.

"What in Miyazaki's name is happening?" Someone yelled.

I scrabbled around my bedside table and found my tattered Sue Slayers handbook.

Code Blue, Code Lavender, Code Aquamarine, Code Puce, Code Mera-Muda, Code Grün, Code CMYK Yellow, Code Greyscale, Code….Nihilism?

There it was. Code Red.

Excerpt from the Sue Slayers Handbook, page 54

Code Red-A medium-high level international alert. When announced, Senior Slayers report to the Briefing Room and await instructions. No food is allowed, but coffee is suggested cos sometimes it takes AAAAGES.

Couldn't anyone in the Slayers take something seriously? If you find a focused, balanced, non ADD suffering Slayer, call me. I'll eat my Bombers beanie.

I grabbed my jacket and crossed the hallway, where I started bashing on the door opposite.

"What the hell is a Code Red?" Hannah yawned, opening the door looking like she'd just gotten back from being beaten up by Fangirls and half drowned a few weeks ago.

Which she had, but whatever.

I cupped my hands around my mouth.

"CODE RED! GO TO THE BRIEFING ROOM, GUYS!"

I grabbed Hannahs elbow and we made our way through the Work Room, past the Fangirl cages and over a pile of Breaking Dawns to the Briefing Room, which was half full of half asleep half adults, or teenagers, as they are more commonly known.

Hannah and I sat at table and began to play a very half-assed game of noughts and crosses.

She was just about to win when Commander Grace Rodgers appeared at the door.

"I was just about to win anyway." She told me.

"Took the words right out of my narration."

"No. Don't tell me-"

"Break it and I crush you."

Commander Rodgers – we did call her Grace, but ranking people is fuuuun – looked seriously wired.

"How many espressos did you get down?" I asked.

Subject of glare: Me.

Instead of beginning to like, talk, or do other Commandery things, Grace sat on the desk at the front and looked at the door.

We all followed her line of sight. Nothing.

Hannah was counting the people in the room.

"We're eight people short, including Elliot." She said. "That's-"

"Josh, Kell, Nic, Tim, Alyssa and Kat. Aaand, um…." One other person…

Hannah frowned, looking around.

"Hey, where's Amelia?"

"Iunno." I'm really coherent, aren't I?

Alyssa, Kell and Josh arrived. I lay my head down on the desk. Comfy.

About ten minutes later, Grace cracked.

"Stuff it." she said. "I'll do it without her. Damn Manga-heads."

With that, she whipped out her laptop and plugged it into the projector that had miraculously appeared.

"Pens and paper out, everyone." She said, opening a document. "Hey, can someone wake Josh up?"

Molly threw a copy of Percy Jackson at Josh, a level ten Slayer. It hit him in the shoulder.

"I'm up!" he yelled.

"Now that we're all here and semi conscious," began Grace. "We have a Red Alert."

"You don't say!" I muttered.

"And if Captain Millie-" Oh boy, she was mad at Amelia. "Was here, she'd be able to tell us everything we needed to know. But of course she's…Hannah, where is Amelia?"

"Ask Tim."

"Tim?"

"I dunno dude. Something to do with an umbrella."

That boy needed to stop watching Blimpage.

Everybody backed away from him slightly.

"I heard the U.S. Again." said Alyssa.

"At least someone is vaguely alert."

Oooh, someone had a favourite. And I had been Grace's apprentice.

"Oh, my Carlisle." Hannah whispered. "She is so Grace's favourite."

I pulled the notebook over and scribbled very quickly:

'We've been spending waaaaaay too much time together.'

Hannah wrote back, 'I concur.'

"Right." Grace clapped her hands. "Sorry I had to wake you all, but you know how paranoid Marcus is. Look. We have a Code Red."

No! Really?

"Basically, we haven't been doing a great job policing the fandoms lately. We've all been a little distracted with Artemis Fowl-"

Glares in Hannah's direction.

"Then of course, the release of Breaking Dawn-"

Sighs from the majority of the girls. I smiled.

"So this Code Red-"

Seriously. Grace could be President of the Department of Redundancy Department.

"Has been issued to deal with the Maximum Ride fandom."

We all groaned.

As I understood it, Maximum Ride was a fairly new book series and had an unpoliced fandom. We were a little more concerned with the others in the Big Four of books; Artemis Fowl, Harry Potter and Twilight.

"We have a backlog of Sues, chat-fics, bad fluff fics and clichés. There's a list in your desks."

Sure enough, a five page, double sided, font size ten list. Fan-bloody-tastic.

"We, the States, the Poms and the Canadians-" Note to self: Make up nickname for Canadian people-"have coordinated this to the T. The U.S. gets the Fangirls, Poms the OOC's and the Canadians seriously begged for the Sues."

Grace clicked through the photos. A short film of a Squee of Fangirls came up, showing them all fighting to the near-death over a tattered Maximum Ride: The Final Warning book. I giggled. Hannah gasped.

There was a picture of a dark haired guy and a brunette with super-tangled hair eating each other's faces, a Sue chasing this weird, pale tall guy.

Another photo appeared. A tall, stooped figure in black robes.

"Gaah! No-Face!"

Grace glanced at me.

"Clare, I need to see you afterwards about your new partner."

"What about Elliot? She's my partner."

Everyone nodded.

The room was silent. You could've heard a bookmark drop.

"I meant apprentice."

Oh, shitake mushrooms. I began to protest again, but Grace pulled out a laser pointer and I was distracted by the pretty light.

"This." The point swirled around the figure. "Is what we are calling a Cliché Wraith. Now, that doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, so we're calling them Barry. Plural, Barries."

Oh, dear Miyazaki. I'll up my offer – find me a serious Slayer. I'll eat my Bombers beanie and the matching scarf.

"They have been appearing in massive numbers in the Maximum Ride fandom."

Kelly put her hand up.

"Um, Barries have been around the fandoms for yonks, in different forms. Why are we, like, scared of these ones?"

"I'll field that one!"

Amelia jumped out of the cupboard.

"How LONG have you been in there?" Grace asked.

"…A while."

Amelia, Captain of the Western Australia, Northern Territory, Queensland, New South Wales, Victoria and South Australia-New Zealand Fangirology Alliance and Hannahs sort of ex-mentor walked over, took the pretty laser pointer and began to do what she did best.

Talk incessantly.

"Basically, the Cliché Wraith – no, I am NOT calling it a Barry, Molly – is like, a vital part of a Mary Sue. Fangirls are its natural enemy, but the Fang and Iggy Squees are so disorganized that they don't know which way is left, up, right or down."

"Literally." Said Tim. All the Fangirologists giggled.

Damn those Fangirologists and their in jokes.

"Amelia, I need to talk to you, now. I want a decision." Grace turned to the rest of us. "Your notes are up here, people. Grab them. Your apprentices will be making you breakfast, yes there will be coffee, and yes I know you're lactose intolerant. Just read your damn notes! Amelia, walk and talk."

Someone was in a Commandery mood.

"There's been a lot of talk and no action this chapter." I muttered.

Hannah slid my notes in front of me.

"Save the breaking for when the action lulls." She advised. "You'll need it."

I looked at the booklet in front of me.

Maximum Ride Fandom, Mission #B967-C

Clare Sarah Martin, Lvl Seven Slayer, Lvl 2 Canonolgy.

Apprentice assisted- Yeah, an apprentice I didn't have.

Clichés in the Maximum Ride fandom are plentiful, and the top ten have been compiled in this list. Those to be taken by you will be bolded and highlighted.

Big whoop.

The following three assignments are level four and are to be apprentice assisted. They are low-level risk, and are as follows.

I was asleep already.

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A few hours later, at about five in the morning, I spat my coffee all over the paper.

"I thought Max was a guy!"

I jabbed my finger at cliché 12 – Max gets pregnant.

The room erupted into laughter.

"My Carlisle, Clare! How behind are you with your required reading?" Grace asked.

I frowned. "Well, maybe if you got more manga-heads to read other comics, I wouldn't be so far behind!"

Hey, you try being one of the three Aussies who reads Batman, Spiderman and the Fantastic Four. It's not fun.

Grace ran her hand through her light hair.

"Take ten guys. I want you back here, suited up and ready to go. You'll need tents and, ugh. Amelia can tell you."

I got up and was about to leave when Grace threw an eraser at me.

"Come on, my office."

"I don't want an apprentice. I suck with kids."

Grace rolled her eyes and we began to walk along the corridor to her office.

Ok, I was jumping to conclusions. Most people got seven year old apprentices, super tough little things that you could drop kick across the MCG and they'd come back and whale on you.

And you know, when someone hits me, not matter how cute they are, I hit back.

One of the reasons I wasn't allowed near my baby cousin.

Grace paused at her office door.

"We got you an eleven year old guy. Feel free to retaliate if he hits you."

"Wait, what's his name?"

"Alexander Darcy. Remember Fowl Manor?"

"Not the New Zea-"

"We lost the cup, Clare! Get over it!"

Grace opened the door, to reveal-

My Miyazaki, he was a ranga.

Phew. Okee-dokee. That's the end of the first chapter. You know, I usually have a ton of things to say at the end authors note…the MCG is the massively huge Melbourne Cricket Ground, where footy is played. The cup Grace references is the Bledisloe Cup, a rugby match between the Aussies and Kiwis.

Any other questions, you should ask me in….a REVIEW!

Thanks for reading!!

Lotsa love,

Nicola.

Word count: 2254

Next chapter up: Week and a bit, I've got rockeisteddford, you see…