The Negative Root of Mary Sue SquaredBy Legion
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|Hera flicked through the 'Mary Sue' folder. 'Well,' she said, as Hades fluffed
up the pillow behind her, 'they're not exactly racy, are they? I mean.. explicit.
No body parts colliding, unless you count a lot of handshakes. Oh, and a couple
of forcible ejections.'
'Mmm,' said Hades, snuggling in closer. 'But they all have fairly miserable endings, don't they?' She smiled happily. 'Nice and twisted. Not like that... other fandom.' They both shuddered, and decided to huddle together for warmth until the boss got home. Which would be in about.. Hera checked the clock... six hours. Gosh. She'd better need a lot of consoling. She almost let out a distraught wail, but just before she could, Hades found something as lot more entertaining to do with her mouth.
Catriona closed the door behind her and sighed. Squeaking bedsprings again. So more laundry, or another night sleeping in sticky sheets.
Well sod it. They could do what they liked. She was having a comfy night on the Liberator, where all the bedclothes were made of that special self cleaning silver fabric, where Zen could whip up a nice vegan stir fry in no time, and where there was plenty of room for her and Avon in the bed, without her two alter egos squishing her off the mattress.
She put on the fablon covered Pringles tube that passed for a teleport bracelet and opened the cabinet door to pick a video.
Hmm. So many to pick from, even after discounting all the ones with the green and silver arrow top and the dodgy three tone suede number.
Aftermath was very tempting, that lovely black shirt. But then again, she'd gone in a bit early last time, and Tarrant had bopped her on the head. The next morning she'd woken up with nothing to show for her trouble but a lumpy head. Something exciting might have happened, but if it had, she couldn't remember.
Ooh. Pressure Point. Trousers. Ah, but jacket too. No. Shadow it was, then. The tape was almost worn out, but it should be good for just a few more trips...
There was another creak from upstairs, and a loud thud as the headboard hit the wall.
Shadow. She stuck the tape in the VCR and fast forwarded to where they'd all got away from Space City, when Avon was all smouldering and resentful, but before they went chasing moon discs, so he still had the boots on.
She pressed the little red circle of sticky back plastic on the cardboard bracelet, and requested teleport.
The teleport bay was deserted, which was odd. Usually at least Vila was here to greet her, and make a token attempt at chatting her up.
'Hello?' Her voice echoed down the corridor. No reply. She tried the commlink, patching through to the flight deck and Avon's cabin. No reply.
Curiouser and curiouser.
No one in Blake's cabin. No one in Avon's. No one on the flight deck. Where next?
The medi bay was empty, too.
Hmm. No, she was sure she hadn't put on Horizon by mistake. She double-checked Avon's wardrobe, and the strong room. The boots and silver top were gone, and the pouch of gems wasn't there. So they must have been to Space City.
But where were they now? For a moment, she considered what she could do if she - not stole, acquired, Liberator. That Travis, he was a bit of all right. (Now, was it one or two? Oh, two. No. Someone would be very upset of she moved in on him. Maybe not.) Then again, maybe she could track down Lytes, or even Kasabi. Although a night of passion in a soggy old wood wasn't devastatingly appealing.
She checked the teleport bracelets. All there. So they must be on board somewhere.
Walking past Vila's cabin, she heard a cry. Not a distressed cry. Well, not actually a cry at all, more a sort of... moan. And another. A happy kind of a moan. And now a delighted wail. And a name...
Ah. That explained what Blake was up to.
She carried on down the corridor until she came to the rec room, where she found a slightly pickled Gan, Jenna and Cally, and...
In the corner there was a young woman tied to a chair.
'Hello,' said Catriona.
'Hello,' replied everyone who wasn't gagged.
'Marauding Mary Sue,' explained Cally. 'Looking for Avon? I don't know where he's gone, he was here a little while ago... we're playing Diffraction with drinking penalties. It's not big or clever but it's fun. Fancy a hand?'
Catriona settled in and picked up a dozen matchsticks. Might as well pass the time somehow.
How odd, thought Avon, walking into the room. A large structure of what looked like egg boxes stuck to a fabric screen was behind him, and there were delighted yelps from somewhere behind a gaudy orange sofa.
Leatherette bean bags? Tacky tacky tacky....
He reached instinctively for his handgun, but instead of making a reassuring warming up noise, it just... didn't. Which wasn't comforting at all. And now he came to think of it, neither were the pictures on the wall, which were all...
Well, the face looked like his. The body was very similar to his. In most respects. And let's face it, there's a lot of naked body there for me to look at. And... oh god. Was that the proportions he was expected to have? Or, hopefully, was that just the effect of the very shiny undergarments he was almost wearing in them?
Two slightly dishevelled ladies appeared from behind the sofa.
Um. Maybe not ladies. One had wild blue black hair, and wore some kind of cheap red plastic dress. Now if it were leather.... The other, the blonde, was in a ... was that pyjamas? At this time? It was still daylight.
The blonde clapped her hands. 'It worked!!' The other was more distracted.
'Boots', she said, over and over. 'Look at the boots.'
They moved from behind the sofa, each taking one of his hands, and fixed him with no-nonsense stares.
Catriona came back through the screen late, a little drunk, and fell over the egg box structure.
Bloody hell, she thought. I can't even leave them to be vegan for a night. Then she remembered about all the egg nog she'd been drinking herself.
The squeaking upstairs continued unabated. Bugger, she thought. Maybe I should have just joined them, she thought. Avon was obviously off with some other totty. Probably in with Blake and Vila. I should stop writing him gay, then maybe he'd get interested in me again.
Ah sod it, she thought, before passing out on the sofa, resolving to get her stereophonic workshop SFX album out the next night and go into Sevenfold Crown. At least then there'd be a choice of two to get ignored by.
She was still asleep, dribbling onto the wipe clean cushion, when an exhausted, slightly bruised, but happy Avon crept passed her and teleported back through the television.
She was awoken a few minutes later by the sound of the washing machine going into overdrive. Her first thought was, bastards.
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