The Obligatory Author's Note:
Hello! I have returned from my mystical adventure into university exam time, mostly unscathed! And so... more fanfic. Sorry about the absence. Forgive me? :)

The Story that Reared Up and Attacked
A fanfic by Pseudinymous

~ Chapter 3 ~

The teacher swallowed. "...What have I done...?" he asked faintly, staggering backwards until he hit and collapsed into his squashy armchair. "Please don't kill me!"

The Ghostwriter looked at Lancer oddly. "Why would I kill you? You might be part of the problem, yes, but maybe that automatically makes you part of the solution. Even if it is cliché." There was a pause. The ghost suddenly gained a horrified look. "Actually, that's probably not the best of ideas, considering it's a Sue we're dealing with..."

Lancer had no idea what the Ghostwriter's temperament was truly like; indeed, five minutes was certainly not enough to understand why and how a person ticked. So, for this reason, he did not interrupt the 'Writer's indecipherable train of thought, which may or may not have split three ways and been pulled back together somewhere in the middle. If these were actual physical trains, they all would have crashed at an intersecting piece of rail. Eventually, the ghost came to a halt, spare parts from discarded trains still scattered all over the answer.

"So we'll absolutely have to find the Sue then..." muttered the ghost. "Do you follow?"

To Lancer's credit, he'd been half-listening as best he could. He was a smart man, but the Ghostwriter's trains of thought were so out-of-order and in some cases totally irrational – following it was like running after a freight train that was going to crash into another freight train. So Lancer reached for his helpful reference book to the right, How to be Hip for the Unhip.

"Err... who said what now?"

The 'Writer's eye was twitching. Lancer put the book down immediately, and waited patiently (and nervously) for the coming explanation.

"First, we use the keyboard to fix up what we can; things such as the season of the year should be fine. We can also use it to give ourselves a few... particularly fair advantages, especially since Sue's have a bit of a knack at warping reality on their own. Not nearly as much as my keyboard, mind you, but it's unlikely we'll be able to do anything about her without it."

"Okay..." Lancer replied, a little uncertainly – although at least now with comprehension. "And... well, what are we going to do when we find Mary?"

The Ghostwriter made a strange, sour expression – somehow a mix between unpleasant and annoyed. Lancer didn't like the look of this expression in the slightest.

"So... you want to kill her, then..."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" asked the ghost. "If she's allowed to live, she'll cause any number of horrible things, regardless of how she's trapped. Besides, it's not like she has any sort of soul. She's not even a person!"

"You're not a person." Mumbled Lancer.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

The 'Writer didn't stop glaring at Lancer for some time afterwards, and the teacher quickly got the point that he was even less likeable than usual. But it wasn't his fault, after all... he was in a very tight situation, here. Not to mention frightening. He currently felt so far out of his depth that the Atlantic Ocean seemed inadequate as a metaphor.

Lancer eventually decided that shutting up and listening would be his best bet, from now. Maybe the Ghostwriter was right. Maybe they did have to kill Mary. But Lancer didn't like the sound of that – regardless of whether she was a 'person' or not, it seemed fundamentally wrong, even if it was a matter of life and death.

On the other hand, Lancer's deer-in-the-headlights mentality was telling him to follow the only relevant advice that existed.

"Right. First thing's first." The Ghostwriter sighed, finally. "We need to fix what we can and see what she's doing."

"Blasted Sue!" screeched the Ghostwriter, within moments of entering the inner circle of the keyboard. "That infernal witch of a girl!"

Lancer had to stop himself from backing away. "... What's happening?"

"The Sue – that may I remind you, you created – hasn't exactly gone unnoticed. Not to mention the fact that it's deciding to pay us a visit! Dear Lord..."

"You are joking, right? Just trying to shake me up as punishment for doing this...?"

"Of course I'm not joking!" The 'Writer yelled, clasping Lancer's arm and yanking him through the side of the keyboard. The teacher had a very fundamental problem with this, which would have been something to do with passing through an apparently solid object. Had he not already dealt with enough surprises today he might have fainted. Meanwhile, a livid Ghostwriter was pointing wildly at the screen.

"Look!" he spat. "Look at this!"

Lancer leaned in and squinted.

Mary hadn't had a very good day. After all, she'd just gotten to this quaint little place, and then – all of a sudden – BOOM! She was attacked like some kind of criminal! Hair cut off with a sword as she was innocently trying to defend herself!

However, she was still rather satisfied. After all, she was a very smart person, and very smart people tended to know which side their bread was buttered on. Time would heal the wounds. And if everything went according to plan, (which, of course, it would) then it'd do a whole lot more than just that, too.

First, she'd need a following. A group of people who loved her so much that they'd be undyingly devoted to her. Mary didn't know how hard it would be to get a group of people like that, but she'd try to recruit them anyway. Surely, people would bite for such a noble cause?

So she waited a few minutes for the sun to come up properly and her beautiful hair to grow back. Now, all the little children had eaten their breakfast and had come out to play.

"Of course!" she said to herself. "The children's minds are young and unquestioning; they shall listen to me!"

So Mary gathered up some of the kids in the area. The girls were especially accepting (because she did, after all, look like a princess) and the mothers and fathers allowed them to go with her because she asked them ever-so-nicely. It's good to be so manipulative, she thought, grinning when she knew no one was looking.

Soon, she had a crowd of twenty-five children from up and down the road and a few of the other surrounding streets. Just like the size of a class of students. So then she leaped from her beautiful unicorn, landing perfectly in front of them.

"Now kids, do you all know why I've asked you to come with me?" She asked, coating her voice with sugar and batting her eyelids.

They all grinned and beamed at her, one little boy in particular shouting out "Because you're going to buy us ice-cream and pizza!"

"See, did you hear that? Ice-cream and pizza for all of you! But, you just have to help me do one little thing, first. After you've done it, you can have as much pizza and ice-cream as money can buy!"

"Oooh, what do you want us to do?" a little girl piped up. "Do you want us to play hide and seek or chasey with you? Or do some chores?"

"Not quite, sweetheart. But you're very close!" Mary beamed. "See, there's these two men hiding in a house not too far from here. One is actually a teacher – he doesn't have any hair and works up at Casper – maybe some of your siblings know him? The other one is a thin guy with a beard and glasses. He also glows. They were being cheeky people, and decided to steal my special keyboard away from me. I need you to help me get it back from them, and find them in the house. When you see them, All of you give them a great big hug so that they can't move, and I'll grab my keyboard. Then, ice-cream and pizza!"

"This sounds really fun!" one boy with rosy cheeks commented, cheerfully.

"Yeah, it'll be great! And then we get junk food!" another added.

They all agreed, and decided that going with Mary was a great idea. So she began to lead them to the house of William Lancer, where they knew they'd have a great time doing a noble deed. Many wondered about the man that supposedly glowed, but rather than questioning, they just thought it was cool and very like Danny Phantom.

"... Surely the children aren't that stupid! And their parents, letting them go off like that with a stranger!"

"It's the Sue's influence; it can't be helped." The Ghostwriter sighed. "We know what she is, so we'll be alright. But the children, those parents... ugh, I can't believe this. She's going to cover us in children so that if we try to attack her, we'll risk hurting one of them."

"Isn't there a way to separate the kids from her?"

The 'Writer fiddled with his keyboard for a moment.

WARNING:
Are you sure you want to delete your current story? All elements (except characters, etc) will be erased.

"This is a way. It will lessen our ability to fight back and spy on her, but she'll also lose some of her power without any narrative to feed off..."

"Then we have to do it, don't we?"

"We do."

The Ghostwriter leaned over in front of Lancer and hit the Enter key. It caused an odd mechanical sound, but the story was gone. The pair sighed, not just in relief, but anxiety. A hurricane was about to pass through.

"... At least now she'll have lost control over those kids... hopefully."

"Hopefully?"

"Well... you have to consider the variable that the kids might, in all actuality, like her. The smart ones might pull out. Not sure about those wanting their junk food reward, however."

"Oh... of course." Lancer muttered. He began to drum his fingers on the keyboard, nervously. For the first time since the ordeal began, he had a very good idea of what was going to happen next – a confrontation. This sort of thing made him sick to his knees. But... he had to do what had to be done, didn't he?

"Look... you take care of the keyboard. You know what you're doing. And... me, I'll go into the lounge and keep an eye out for her. If I see anything suspicious, I'll yell back to you."

The 'Writer lowered an eyebrow in thought. "I guess there is a little method to your madness, then. Come back at the first sign of trouble, and for God's sake, don't get yourself involved with it; just come straight back down here, and keep out of sight."

Lancer didn't have his mind on the Ghostwriter's words, however. As he closed the garage door behind himself, ever the diplomat, he was thinking about reasoning with the Sue. There shouldn't be any need for killing if he was able to persuade her away from those... somewhat violent tendencies. That would be a terrific result! That, and he wouldn't be trapped in a small room with a ghost that still rather frightened him. Also a plus. In his mind, Lancer had it all worked out. Surely the Sue wouldn't dare hurt its own creator, and not with kids around, either!

...

Surely.

So Lancer looked out the window for a good long while. In fact, so long that he wondered where Mary was and what she was doing... or conspiring. The Ghostwriter's attempt at taking her power away couldn't have done any good to her temperament, but Lancer was still convinced he could change her mind. He had built her with niceness, after all.

After about half an hour of constant waiting, the 'Writer called up to Lancer to make sure he was okay. He called again at the one-hour mark, as well as the one-and-a-half hour mark.

At around two hours of stagnation, Lancer began to wonder if the Sue had just given up and gone away, even if he knew better than that. But his eyes were becoming tired from constantly staring at the same spot, and his attention was dropping. He was almost asleep, but through the window, in the very corner of his eye...

"A Time to Kill! She's here!"

Her, and six hungry children tailing behind.

Looking at her face shot shivers down Lancer's spine. Should he really try and reason with what even a ghost called an abomination? What if she tried to kill him? Suddenly, he didn't feel quite so sure of himself. The Sue had already seen his face through the window. The Ghostwriter was yelling at him to get into the garage. The diamond and ruby swords were still sitting up against the wall. And the doorknob was turning...

This time, it was too much. Lancer passed out.