"What do you mean, you haven't got it?!" an extremely irate, petite witch demanded of a cowering (and somewhat singed) bandit. "I don't buy that line, bucko. Tell me where you hid your loot, and maybe I'll be merciful!"

The terrified ruffian, who was trying without success to make himself sink into the ground, merely gurgled in response. After the treatment he'd received so far at the hands of the sorceress, he had a feeling that her idea of "merciful" might be closer to most people's idea of "capital punishment." Scorched by fireballs, nearly decapitated (he'd have to watch out for that swordsman), flung about the clearing by the force of several magical explosions, and generally bruised and abused, the bandit was now starting to regret his chosen profession. And all this after this morning, too, he thought dismally, noting that his aches and pains from an earlier tussle that day hadn't even faded slightly.

"Lina, maybe you should take your foot off his throat," suggested the sorceress's taller, lanky companion. The bandit, who was sprawled on his back, couldn't see the swordsman, but he had seen him during the fight, and knew that he was blond, dull-looking, and quite possibly the most dangerous man with a sword that the bandit had ever met. The bandit shuddered to think what sort of expression might be on the swordsman's face as the other man continued mildly, "I don't think he can talk if he can't breathe."

The fiery-haired magician grudgingly removed her boot from the bandit's windpipe, transferring it instead to his chest. "Don't try to get up," she warned the formerly-asphyxiating bandit, "Or I'll fireball you into next Tuesday. Now, spill it."

The bandit finally regained enough oxygen to speak. "I... I.... it's like I told you! We don't got any more treasure! The lady who came through this morning, she took it all... please don't hurt me no more! I'll turn over a new leaf and give up being a bandit and do good deeds and stuff so please don't hurt me no more! It's true, the lady before took it!"

"Lady? What lady?" she asked in quiet, dangerous tones, bending down and looking directly into his eyes. "Can you tell me what she looked like?" The way she asked it, it was not a question.

Staring up at his captor's red eyes -- red like blood --, the bandit swallowed. Like looking in the face of a devil... they say you can't never look away until he's burned your soul out of you. He was consumed by terror, eyes locked open, head frozen, but heard himself croak out a description of the person who had so thoroughly pounded the bandit gang only hours earlier. "She... she came by a couple of hours back, when we were lounging about camp. She was tall, lady, taller'n you but not so tall as your friend there. She had long black hair, which she wore fancy-like, an' was dressed like a sword-mercenary-for-hire. Tunic, leggings, cape, the whole bit... kinda like you, only different colors. I think she had some kinda badge on her shirt, she said it were a wild boar goring her enemies, but afterwards I thought it looked like a pig kissing some guy in a bathrobe. Oh, an' she had much bigger-"

At this point, the bandit's mouth stopped moving as some ancient self-preservation instinct kicked in. This was fortunate for many reasons; it allowed the bandit to enjoy a longer life, it spared the sorceress's companion from having to deal with a furious magic-user, and it saved the author from having to include the tired, worn-out, expected reference to a certain aspect of Lina's appearance. The bandit himself was really only concerned with the first, of course, but swordsman and author greatly appreciated the latter two.

Thankfully, the witch seemed satisfied with his description, for she straightened up and took her terrible blood-red gaze elsewhere.

"Neh, Gourry, what do you think?" Her tone seemed suddenly innocent and casual, but in the bandit's mind the witch was only trying to throw him off-guard. Further off-guard, he mentally amended; lying flat on his back, his comrades unconscious around him and their second raid of the day gone horribly, horribly wrong, could hardly be described as a situation in which he was in control and on his guard.

"Huh? About what?" There was a pause, with footsteps. They seemed perfectly in sync with the bandit's heartbeat, the intensity of which was increasing exponentially. "Oh, you mean, what do you think we should do? Hmmmmm...." The swordsman's voice seemed to match the movement of the footsteps; he was much closer now. The bandit screwed his eyes shut, the morbid, paranoid reaches of his subconscious murmuring a variety of nasty, unpleasant fates the blond man might be about to pronounce upon him. Burn him alive... feed him to monsters... kill him now... cut out his tongue... sacrifice him to a Dark God... make him eat his own hand...

"I think we should let him go."

The poor bandit nearly went into cardiac arrest at this unexpected statement. "You're gonna let me go?"

The sorceress seemed surprised as well. "Let him go? Why?"

A shrug was almost audible in the swordsman's response. "Well, they don't seem to have any treasure, and we already beat them up a lot, so we might as well leave them alone and go find another gang of bandits."

"Hmm..."

The bandit hastily opened his eyes. The sorceress was frowning and tapping one foot, but whether that was a good sign or a bad sign, he wasn't certain.

"All right." Evidently, she had reached a decision. Once again, she bent down and looked the bandit squarely in the face to address him. "Gourry here," she jerked her thumb in what was presumably the direction of the swordsman, "thinks we should let you go. So I'm going to. But don't think about following us to get revenge or anything," the witch warned, and the bandit promptly dismissed any such plans from his battered head. "Because that sort of thing really ticks me off. And I'd rather we part on friendly terms, neh?"

Was it his imagination, or was his captor grinning in a genuine, non-sinister manner? Still, she seemed to be expecting an answer. Unfortunately, his mouth refused to form words, and he was forced to make a painful half-nod in response.

"Good." The sorceress removed her foot from his chest and turned away with a sharp swirl of her cape. The swordsman followed suit, although he had neither foot on bandit's chest to remove nor a cape to swirl.

As she exited the clearing, the witch glanced back at the bandit and his fellows, who were by this time starting to regain consciousness with a variety of moans, groans, and inarticulate gurgles.

"And make sure to tell people how you were shown mercy by the great Lina Inverse!" she called over her shoulder, waving cheerily and skipping off.

This time, the bandit really did have a heart attack.

***

The great Lina Inverse had just reached the top of a hill and was about to go racing down when she was stopped short by a tug on her cape. Unfortunately, she was mid-skip, and hence mid-air, so the sudden backwards forced sent her tumbling. This in turn threw her companion Gourry Gabriev (who had been the one to apply this sudden backwards force), off-balance, and so when Lina fell down and hit the ground, the swordsman came tumbling after.

At the bottom of the hill, after the dust had cleared, the sorceress extracted herself from a battered Gourry, stood up, dusted herself off, and took a quick inventory.

"No broken bones, some bruises. Hmm... my cape's a bit torn, and just after I'd gotten it mended, finally. Huh, isn't that just my luck," she muttered to herself, then shrugged. "Ah, well, looks like everything else is here. Dagger, check; battery-powered brass lantern, check; twenty-three pieces of gold left from that last bunch of bandits, check; three rubies, nine diamonds and one emerald, check; one jewel-encrusted golden crown, che-... oh, rats, it's broken." Lina regarded at the gaudy, overdecorated lump of bent metal with disgust. "What lousy workmanship... ah, well, I guess I can just sell the stones and gold for a decent price. Four demon-blood talismans, check. One extremely cute and powerful sorcery genius, check. That should be it... how about you, Gourry?"

The blond swordsman, who still lay wincing on the ground, had been in the middle of performing another kind of inventory. "Two arms, two legs, one head... oh, sorry, Lina." He scrambled to his feet and looked around at the surroundings with some confusion. "Er, weren't we at the top of the hill a moment ago?"

Lina sighed. "We were. Then you grabbed my cape, I tripped, and though the miracle known as gravity, we ended up down here. Got it?"

"Oh?" The lanky swordsman rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Gravity? I thought we just fell."

The twitch in his companion's forehead told Gourry that this was not the right thing to say, even if he had been joking, so he hastily continued, "...but anyway, we're both okay, so it doesn't matter, right?" He glanced at Lina, who was tapping her foot impatiently. She seemed to be expecting something more. What was he forgetting... "Uh, sorry?" Nope, that wasn't it, he'd already apologized for tripping her. What else was he supposed....

"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, banging a fist into his other palm. "That's right! When I grabbed your cape, it was because I was going to tell you something!"

"That's nice, Gourry. What were you going to say?"

Hmm... clenched teeth. Lina was impatient, Gourry decided. "I was going to tell you that.. uh... that..." Eyes blanking, Gourry stared at the air next to and behind Lina's left ear. "That...uh..."

Stomping in irritation, Lina broke in, "What _is_ it, Gourry? We've got to catch up with whoever beat us to those bandits, they've already got a two-hour lead..."

"Maybe he was going to tell you that she's standing right behind you?" a low female voice asked silkily. Lina spun around to face the newcomer, who had been heading towards them from the direction opposite that by which they had come.

"Don't startle me like that!" came an irate response from the hair-trigger magician, who was annoyed at the painful array of ill-placed prepositions in the previous paragraph. She spun around, a globe of light gathering in her hand.

Surprisingly, the young woman didn't even flinch at Lina's explosive response (or the prepositions and subsequent alliteration), nor did she turn a hair at the half-formed fireball glowing in the sorceress's hand. She glanced over the pair, her cool, steely gaze missing nothing. Well, nothing except the treasury Lina kept in her cape, the sword Gourry's belt, the runes of protection on Lina's headband, the four demon-blood talismans, Gourry's perfectly-fitting but worn boots, or the aura of calm self-assuredness the two travelers wore. She did notice, however, that they were somewhat ragged-looking mercenaries, covered in dust and soot from the scuffle with the bandits and the tumble down the hill, and generally unwashed; that Gourry had split ends and needed a shave; and that Lina's hair was mussed and she could easily be mistaken for a much younger girl. Of course, she herself was perfectly immaculate, her nails trimmed neatly, her face clean and her complexion clear. Her midnight blue shirt and jacket were tailored and flatteringly cut, and not a single raven-black hair was out of place in her simple but stylish coiffure. On her wrist she wore a simple, intricately-carved bracelet of some strange metal, carved with strange symbols. Her eyes were sapphire orbs. A silver-hilted sword hung at her belt, catching the afternoon sun's rays like fire on a-

Yes, she was one of those people, all of her pores exuding an air of yes, I'm perfect, tell me something I don't know. It was strong enough to kill a horse from ten feet away.

Fortunately, Lina Inverse wasn't a horse. She was a somewhat violent, short-tempered human who ate as much as five men, but she wasn't a horse. So instead of keeling over dead when she was hit by the full impact of the self-overconfident air of arrogant authority, she simply became very quiet, holding the half-formed fireball in cupped hands. The sorceress stepped back to Gourry's side, narrowing her eyes and frowning, on sudden and swift guard at the smell of rank.

Gourry had noticed the odor, too, but at the moment he was busy staring blankly at the crest boldly emblazoned on the stranger's chest. The young woman smirked.

"I see you've noticed my insignia," she said in a voice like poorly-woven silk. "I take it you know what it means, then."

Blank looks and head-shaking from Lina and Gourry. "It looks like a pig kissing a guy in a bathrobe," offered the latter. "Does that mean you're a farmer?"

"Do I look like a farmer?" the young woman snapped. "It's a wild boar goring his enemies, you uncultured rogue. Not a pig."

"Oh, sorry," the swordsman responded automatically. "You're right; it does look like what you said, if you squint a bit..." he said, demonstrating. The sorceress at his side stifled a giggle.

The young woman was not amused. "It means that you are in the presence of a Royal Hunter from the kingdom of Kinyu. You've heard of them, I trust?" She smiled dangerously with blood-red lips and stepped forwards.

Gourry shook his head, but Lina frowned. "I've heard-"

The strange woman interrupted. "Royal Hunters are an elite band of swordsmasters, sworn to serve our king and slay our enemies. We are sometimes called Kinyu's Boars for the swiftness and mercilessness with which we bring an end to our foes, like a wild boar goring an inept woodsman." Her dark eyes flashed dangerously as she continued, "It is that which is pictured on our crest."

This simply earned another confused look from Gourry. "If you say so..." he said doubtfully, then shook his head and whispered to his companion, "I still think it's a pig."

Lina studied the older girl with narrowed eyes. "You're a sorcery-hunter, aren't you."

The Royal Hunter nodded her head. "And you are a sorceress. Which means that we are enemies."

Lina nodded as well, giving a small, grim smile in reply. Her eyes flashed just as dangerously as the sorcery-hunter's, but with less cliché and more flair. Bringing the fireball in her hands into plain view, she continued, "I guess so. There's also the small matter of some...things... you took from some bandits in this area a short time ago."

"Oh, those fools?" She smiled smugly. "I was feeling a bit rusty, so I extracted justice from those pathetic outlaws. I had little need for the jewels and artifacts, so I dropped them into a stream."

"You what?!" Lina demanded, outraged. "All that treasure, you just... threw away?"

Shrugging, the hunter answered with a raised eyebrow, "Why not? It was worthless trash. And I don't plan to part with the gold, so you'll have to indulge your greed for valuables elsewhere."

Gourry, who had given up following the conversation and drifted off into his own little world, was brought back to reality by a snarl that seemed to have issued from a nearby rabid wolf.

Or a fuming sorceress. Lina choked on her rage for a good minute before she was able to continue, spluttering angrily. "That's it! No one insults me like that! Let's settle this here and now!"

Gourry looked at his companion, who had begun foaming at the mouth. He looked at the Hunter, who was smirking, having found a way to reduce Lina to a state of nearly incoherent fury.

Getting Lina angry was a bad idea. Being within a five-mile radius of her when her temper finally exploded was almost as bad an idea. "Um, Lina, I don't think it's a good idea to get in a fight here..." he whispered, eyes darting back over the hill where the trounced bandits were likely stumbling to their feet. "Maybe we should forget about this..."

"Are you nuts, Gourry?" Lina hissed angrily. "She insulted me! I can't let something like that slide."

"...Please, Lina?"

Looking at Gourry's pleading puppy-dog expression, the sorceress sighed. Feeling her rage drain away (or at least go off into a corner to sulk), she reluctantly acquiesced. "Fine. I'll just settle this other time..." she grumbled crossly.

Shrugging unconcernedly, eyes closed, the Royal Hunter seemed to have missed the exchange completely. "It's all the same to me; this morning's bout with the bandits didn't even leave me at a sweat, and my wild heart is yearning for bloodshed." Her dark eyes snapped open. "But even if we do not finish this here, you will be seeing me again. A Royal Hunter does not let any prey escape, just as a wild boar is utterly without mercy on those who would seek to destroy its natural habitat."

"I see. Then we'll chat later, neh? After all, tired prey wouldn't be much fun to hunt now, would it? " Lina said sarcastically, turning to leave, and motioned for Gourry to follow. The swordsman, temporarily confused by the over-mixed metaphors, shrugged and obediently fell into step beside her.

"Do not forget me, fools!" she called after the pair. "I'll teach you to fear my very name!"

"And what name would that be?" Lina called back over her shoulder. "Sarah the Stupid?"

"My name…. Is Mary Sue!"

Lina failed to pale visibly. "The Mary Sue?" she didn't say. Instead, her response was the rather languid, "Yeah, I'm quaking in my boots. C'mon, Gourry, let's go."

The sorcery-hunter's eyes narrowed as she watched swordsman and sorceress depart. Pity they seemed so weak; she had been searching for a more challenging prey, but... these two would do. Her lips curved into a smile. This would be fun.

***

Not long after they'd left Mary Sue behind, Lina stopped so suddenly that Gourry nearly tripped over her.

"Augh! Kingdom of Kinyu? Sorcery Hunters? Wild Boars? What the heck was that about?" Lina raged in general, tugging her hair.

"I dunno. I'd never heard of them. What are Sorcery Hunters, anyway?"

"I don't know!"

Gourry frowned. Usually Lina answered those sorts of questions with exasperation and an infodump. "But you did ten minutes ago. You and Larry Stu were talking all about it."

"I know! And I knew then! But I swear I'd never heard of that kingdom or the hunters before! Gaaa, it makes no sense." Lina kicked a nearby rock. It rolled half a meter and came to rest, only to be scowled at. "And that badge! Pig kissing a guy in a bathrobe. You're absolutely right, Gourry, that's what it looked like! There is no kingdom of Kinyu, no elite band of hunters that seek out sorcery.

"And to top it all off, she threw away my treasure!"

***

Author's Note: (1) This story was begun years ago, long before the announcement of Revolution/Evolution-R. As such, it may eventually contradict events from that season. It's set in the anime canon some nebulous time after TRY ends, and thus Gourry is without the Sword of Light.

(2) The title comes from TVTropes, a thoroughly addictive wiki documenting tropes (common themes and clichés) in various forms of fiction. Although my intent here is to parody tropes found in fanfic in general and Slayers fanfic in particular, it's not to bash. Tropes are not inherently bad (often there's a good reason they're tropes to begin with), and parody tends to exaggerate things. I'm trying to avoid poking at any specific fanfic or author (except possibly myself), but if you're feeling slighted, please let me know!