Dethklok vs. The Sue
A Deth-Fic in Four Short Parts

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): None
Warnings: Cartoon violence, rat-slapping
Summary: There’s a Sue loose in Mordhaus.
Notes: I had the misfortune of running into a Metalocalypse Mary-Sue fic (Metal Sue?) and… well... between it and what I have been hearing about the ‘Twilight’ series, not to mention running into a truly vomit-worthy Twilight fic( you can find it here at weepingcock - ), I sorta got a bunny. Then the bunny met three glasses of mead and went sideways. I’m not sure if this is a ficlet or a wank. Maybe it’s a wanklet. Innocent friends were slandered in the writing of this.

Round One – Charlie VS the Sue.

Charles sat at his oak desk, reading the application of the young woman before him, and feeling deeply suspicious. Not that the application was out of sorts at all. It wasn’t. It was perfect. Her credential were perfect, her references were all in order and positively stellar, and her education was, frankly, better than his.

That alone made him say; “Hmmmmm….”

He glanced over the top of the sheet of paper to look at the beautiful young girl seated across the desk from him. She was smiling sweetly, her long wavy brown hair falling over her perfect white shoulders and trailing over her full breasts. Her eyes sparkled like starshine, and when she laughed it was like the delicate tinkling of pee into a men’s room urinal.

Oh he so didn’t trust this wench.

“So… Miss… Poppins, is it?”

“Oh you can call me Mary.” She giggled cutely, and… did her eyes just change colour?

“Mary Poppins?”

“Well Mary-Sue Poppins, actually. It was my mother’s favourite movie, and she said it suited me because I was practically perfect in every way. It was so tragic when she died. I was only twelve and now I am looking for an older half-brother.”

“Well… good luck with that. Uh… well your resume really is excellent but… the boys don’t actually need a nanny. The youngest band member is in his twenties and he’s quite capable of putting himself to bed.”

“Oh I know but there is so much more that I could do! These poor boys live without any sort of feminine influence!”

“Well… they’re adults. They can do that.”

“But who loves them and nurtures them? Who tends to them in the cold hours of the night when they weep?”

“They have groupies for that. Besides the boys really are rather… exclusionary. They prefer to stick with each other.”

She leaned forward, bosom heaving, her eyes now shadowed dark blue with pain and anxiety. “Oh please Mr. Offdensen! I really need this job, and I know I could do so much good here!” She began shedding perfect silvery tears. “I know my destiny lies here. Please, can’t you see I’m desperate? I know that Nathan is my half-brother, as are Toki and Skwisgaar. But not Pickles or Murderface because they are neither pretty enough nor major enough characters to rate.”

Charles stared at her sourly for a time, then pressed a button on his desk. Five roadies showed up instantly.

“I thought I told you fellows to keep the mary-sues off the premises. Throw that in the trash heap, would you? And quickly before she breeds.”

Round Two – Nathan VS the Sue.

Nathan, Toki and Skwisgaar watched as a shrieking female was thrown from the window of their manager’s office and into the yard. The wolves ran over, sniffed her briefly, then yipped and fled. The young woman stood up, then swayed briefly before putting a hand to her brow and fainting into a graceful heap. The trio exchanges glances.

“Why Charlies throwing ladies outs his window?” asked Toki.

“Maybes is Robot T’anksgivinks tradition?” said Skwisgaar.

“Don’t be stupid,” said Nathan. “You don’t throw ladies out windows for Robot Thanksgiving, you do that for Saint Swithin’s.”

“Ja don’ts be sillies, Skwisgaar. You puts da ladies ins da carrot stew for Robot T’anksgivings.”

Nathan walked over to the fainted female. “Uhhhh… you okay?”

“Oh, my heart! My heart! I am far too delicate for this!” She began softly weeping perfect silver tears. Skwisgaar suddenly had a look on his face like a horse spotting a pack of wild dogs in the distance and beat it the hell out of there. Nathan watched him go.

“Why do I get the feeling we’re gonna be wishing we followed him?” said Nathan.

Toki watched as the lady brought a hand to her brow and slumped delicately to the ground once more with a soft sigh.

“I t’inks she dead, Nat’an,” he said, nudging her with his foot.

“Well just leave her,” said Nathan. “The yard-wolves will clean her up.”

“Okies.”

The girl suddenly sat up, looking indignant. “You were just going to leave me here for the wolves to eat?!”

“OH MY GODS NAT’AN! IS WALKINGS DEADS! SHES ZOMBIE! OH MY GODS! SHE IS COME EATS OUR BRAINS!”

Toki fled. Nathan watched him go before turning his head to once more look at the exquisitely pretty young lady, who was gazing back at him.

“Well are you going to help me up?” she asked. “I think a man should help his sister out of the mud.”

“You’re not my sister.”

“But of course I am! How could you say such a thing?!”

“You don’t look anything like me.”

“I look like my mother! You see your father met her in…”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Nathan began walking away. Mary-Sue Poppins got up and hurried after him.

“But he was stationed at…”

“Look lady, I’m a multi-billionaire and the lead singer of the biggest band in the world, I run into new relatives twice a week. Come back with some medical documentation and we’ll talk.”

Mary-Sue Poppins watched as Nathan walked away, her jaw hanging.

Round Three – Skwisgaar VS the Sue.

Skwisgaar looked around nervously. One of the advantages of having really long legs was he could usually outpace anything that was chasing him, but in this case he knew he could never run fast enough no matter how long his legs were. There was a sue loose on the property. If she wanted him, she would catch him. It was as simple as that. He could only hope she wouldn’t enter any place as creepy and dark as the Mordland cemetery…

“Well there you are!”

Oh great Odin, why have you forsaken your son?

There came a delicate little laugh. “Why are you running away? Don’t you like me? You’ll hurt my feelings. You don’t want to make me cry do you?”

Skwisgaar turned around to look at her. “Why is you followings me?”

“I wanted to talk to you! I think you know what about. I think you’re my older brother! Oh we’ll have so much fun together. You’ll tease me about my guitar playing, even though I’m far better than you…”

“Is nobodies betters dan Skwisgaar.”

“And you’ll worry about me…”

“Is nots likely.”

“And even though you secretly desire me and your flesh burns with want you can never have me. At least not until chapter eighty-five, when you learn I am not truly your sister, and then our love shall flower like spring after the cruel winter, and you will forsake death-metal because your heart will know only the brilliance of our love. Then you’ll turn into a vampire and be all sparklie.”

“Uh-huh.” Skwisgaar tried to get Brendon Small on the phone, only to find out he and Tommy Blacha were passed out drunk in a Tijuana jail cell. Crap. Where the hell was that Masked Assassin when you actually wanted him? Probably hiding under a rock if he knew what was good for him. Skwisgaar called General Crozier.

“Kills me,” he said.

“Forget it, Blondie. I’m not getting anywhere near her. That’s a Twilight sue.”

“Well tells me what to do!”

“You’re on your own.”

Crozier hung up. Skwisgaar swore and hung up, then looked over his shoulder at the impossibly pretty and perfect girl. She seemed to shine with her own inner light, and sparkled in the sunlight as her eyes turned to a warm green like sunlight through leaves. She laughed.

“Why are you afraid?” She pouted cutely. “Is it because you’re supposed to be big bad, dark and scawy?” she asked in baby-speak.

“Why is yous here?”

“I came to find my older brother! And to save you and Toki and Nathan from horrid rabid fangirls who with pair you with another male!”

“And whats about Pickle and Murderface?”

“Oh we can do without them, they’re not important. They’ll just become jealous of our forbidden love and several times will come close to killing me, but you shall foil them and I shall forgive them.”

Her eyes shone with tears. Skwisgaar looked around for help. The sue giggled and drew near.

“Come walk with me, and I shall give you a unicorn.”

“Unicorn?” he asked dubiously.

“Well that’s what I call it,” she giggled.

“Calls what?”

“The delicate mystery of the orgasm of course! For ladies it is much more spiritual.”

“Is dats being why groupies is yellings “Oh God” alls da time?”

“There will be no more groupies,” the sue said firmly.

Skwisgaar was horrified to find himself wanting to agree with her. In desperation he tore off in search of help, running deep into the heart of the great graveyard. Suddenly he noticed something that made him wonder if he had somehow managed to eat some of Pickles’ ‘special’ brownies. It was a rodent in a blue hat, perched on a crypt, smoking a cigar, and playing strip Fish with two fairies, a garden gnome, and a rabid parrot. He had a feeling that this was no ordinary rat. He pounced on the hairy grey beast and clutched it with two hands until the beady little eyes bugged out.

“You has to helps me,” he said.

“Don’t crush that rat!” yelled the gnome. “She owes me eighty-seven dollars and two pairs of Offdensen’s underpants!”

“And she owes me a Final Fantasy fic!” said the pink Animama fairy.

“She owes me ten gallons of brain bleach!” said the other fairy, which was not a fairy at all but a deth-pixie.

“I nots carinks abouts dat!” said Skwisgaar. “Dere is beings a sue in my graveyard and I is wantingks it gone!”

“Oh is that all!” said the gnome. “Yeah we can do that. All you have to do is fall in love with a guy.”

“No, is a Twilight sue,” said Skwisgaar. “Dey’s harders to gets rid of.”

“Oh yeah, they’re more gross than the usual sue,” said the gnome. “And the whole purpose of a sue is to defeat all that hot naughty nasty man-love.”

“Well there’s only one thing that gets rid of a sue,” said the Animama fairy. “Mpreg.”

“Yeah mpreg will do it,” said the gnome.

“Uh-huh,” agreed the pixie, pouring herself a finger of scotch and helping herself to one of the rat’s cigars. She studied her cards. “Hey who dealt this mess?”

“You did,” said the Animama fairy.

“And where is I gettings this… em-prag?” asked Skwisgaar.

“Just bitch-slap that rodent and you get all the mpreg you can handle,” said the gnome.

“Oh… oh I don’ts knows ‘bout dat. She awfuls small.”

“But that’s how the spell works!” said the death-pixie.

“Yeah!” said the gnome. “Everyone knows you rub a lamp and slap a rat. Fairy tale rules, buddy. We don’t make this stuff up. Pass the scotch.”

“Well, okies,” said Skwisgaar, his tone uncertain. “I’s slappings da rat…”

“Belt her good,” said the gnome. “She’s pretty loaded.”

“Skwisgaar!” trilled a voice like a nightingale. “Skwisgaar where are you?”

“Hurry!” said the deth-pixie. “She’s approaching fast!”

Skwisgaar dealt the rat a suitable slap, and then watched in fear as the little grey animal stared in astonishment. Then she adjusted her hat, straightened her cigar, and with one violent blast of magic dispatched the Sue in a most horrible manner. However before Skwisgaar had a chance to celebrate, he was suddenly stricken by violent morning sickness. He fainted where he stood, and did not notice as he was carried into the Haus by the roadies.

Round Four – Epilogue.

“I nots sure makings da sue leave was wort’ fifty-six hours of labours,” said Skwisgaar. He was drenched in sweat, and the bed was covered in unspeakable substances.

“Well it’s all over now,” said Offdensen comfortingly.

“What’s did I haves?”

“A veritable litter. Eight little boys.”

“No wonders I feels so awfuls. Hey who is dey lookingks like? When dat rat zaps me dere was no you-know-whats wit’ anybodies, I was just pregsnat. I nots knowings who da father is.”

“Well,” said Offdensen, “at a guess I would say she just… made babies with any male within zapping range.”

“Whats you mean?”

Offdensen rolled over a gurney with eight babies on it. Skwisgaar stared sourly at the assortment of infants. There was a little Nathan, a tiny Toki, a petite Pickles, a small Skwisgaar, a miniscule Murderface, and just to add some colour there was a baby Offdensen and Knubbler, and he was pretty sure the last baby was fathered by Roadie 1013.

“I is goingks to be wantings some helps wit’ dis.”

“Of course,” said Offdensen. “By the way… did you want me to… ah… speak to the rat?”

“Ja,” said Skwisgaar. “I wants you to haves a word wit’s da rat. But first you is havings a word wit’s dat garden gnome dat is tellings me to slap her in da first place!”