[Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia; I’m only playing in it. ‘Daughter Of A Winchester‘ belongs to Fallen Angel and I do not want it. Mittens and the Radioactive Moss Creature are mine.]
Mittens was distracted from his search for the biscuits, by the console giving its familiar ear-splitting BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! He pressed the button and started to read.
“It’s a Supernatural-fic,” he said, after a moment, “the full title is ‘Daughter Of A Winchester (Will Become an Andy Biersack Love Story!)’. It’s written in first person, so we’ll need the dummy. And there’s a mini in the summary.”
“You should stay here,” the Radioactive Moss Creature said to Saxo and James. “You’re fully fledged agents now. No doubt, there’ll be another mission along for you soon.” They looked like they wanted to object, so it added: “Anyway, Christmas is near and we haven’t had time to decorate. You can do that.”
“So,” Mittens said, eyeing their rather extensive weapons collection with a thoughtful look, “would the crossbow be canon?”
The RMC gave a sound that could have been a laugh, converted into a cough. “They used a Christmas tree as a weapon once. Bring whatever you feel could be useful. Also, lots of salt and some kerosene.”
“We don’t have any of that.”
“We don’t? Then we’ll have to pick it up in the fic.”
Mittens packed their backpack, set the disguise generator to ordinary humans and programmed the portal.
They threw the dummy in first and stepped though after it.
They were in prefic nothingness. Mittens turned on a torch, knowing from experience that gathering charges from Author’s Notes and prologues in pitch darkness was a pain.
There was a bark. He looked down. Then further down.
The dog wagged its tail.
He stared, then turned to the RMC, who was also staring.
“Is that a … a …Is that Winchster from the summary? What kind of mini is it?”
The dog wagged its tail harder and barked again at the mentioning of its name.
“It must be a mini-Hell Hound,” said the RMC.
“By why does it look like that?”
“Well … It is never shown what the real Hell Hounds look like, so I suppose it is within the realm of possibilities, that the mini-version is a,” it hesitated for a moment, “a Yorkshire Terrier.”
The Yorkshire Terrier wagged its tail some more. It had a little purple bow between the ears.
There was a pause, then Mittens shrugged. “A mini is a mini.” He picked up the small dog. It tried to lick his face and he giggled, before placing it in the backpack.
The fic started, not with an Author’s Note or a Disclaimer, but with a character sheet.
Full Name: Raven Natasha Winchester
Age: 11 (she’ll get older as the story progresses)
A picture of a girl floated through the darkness, startling both agents, before it disappeared again.
“That must be one of the features of the Circle of Lemmings,” said the RMC.
“Is it dangerous?” asked Mittens.
“I don’t think it’s any more dangerous, than things like punctuation rains and unmarked scene changes.”
Personality: People She Doesn’t Know: Shy, Quiet, Adorable. People She Does Know: Funny, Sarcastic, Outgoing, Snarky, Witty, Sweet, Can Win Almost Any Argument, Is Known To Stay Quiet For Long Periods Of Time, Very Protecteve.
“That Is One Of The …” The RMC paused, then cleared its throat. “Sorry. It seems to be catching. That is one of the worst instances of telling, not showing, I have ever had the misfortune to witness. Charge.”
Mittens rummaged in the backpack for Bleeprin and giggled again, when Winchster licked his hand. “I’m also charging for crimes against capitalization and spelling.”
“And I suppose, we’ll have to inform the Department of Redundancy Department.”
Status: Hunter, Bird Kid (Idea stolen off of Maximum Ride), psychic
Hobbies: Hunting, Shooting, Skate Boarding, Flying and Messing with people’s minds
“What’s a Bird Kid?” asked Mittens.
“Something from another book, which has absolutely nothing to do with Supernatural.”
The character sheet was then followed by a back story. It explained how Dean Winchester, at the age of 15, had gotten another 15-year-old, Natasha Rivers, pregnant and how she had died after giving birth.
The RMC scoffed. “With the number of Sue-mothers who die giving birth, you would think that they all live in the Dark Ages, not in the modern world, where these things are very rare, thankfully.”
There was something wrong with the baby.
“You don’t say,” Mittens said, absent-mindedly, while checking his gun.
She had been born with little, black, dawny wings. It turns out that Natasha was being experimented on by an underground science facility to earn some extra cash.
There was the sound of two palms hitting two foreheads.
“I don’t even know where to start,” said Mittens.
“Neither do I. The whole thing is just so idiotic. Underground facilities do not experiment on anyone, although the people in them might do so. And ‘to earn some extra cash’? It makes it sound like she got extra pocket money for mowing the lawn.”
Mittens handed a couple of Bleeprin to the RMC and also took some himself.
The infodump continued by explaining that John Winchester had taken Raven in as his own daughter, until she was five years old, when she had been told the truth.
“She might as well be going through a check-list,” said the RMC, while Mittens scribbled furiously to get all the charges.
She turned out to be a little girl genius at the I.Q. of 360.
“Firstly,” said the RMC, “charge her with giving herself an absurdly high IQ, despite clearly not having any idea how an IQ score works. Secondly, charge her with insulting the honourable Agatha Heterodyne, by calling herself that.”
“There’s a another chapter coming up.”
“And thirdly, charge for having a whole chapter consisting of a character sheet.”
Dean and I pulled up outside Sammy’s apartment complex and pulled to a soft stop.
Mittens made a mark next to the charge for redundancy, happy to have firm ground under his feet once again.
The dummy settled into a blond girl with blue eyes; she was sitting next to Dean. She had some kind of odd pink-orangeish light, in the colours of a sunrise, shimmering on her back. It might have been pretty, if not for the fact that it, at the same time, tried to be black.
Mittens tilted his head. “I suppose that’s her ‘dawny, black wings’ shining though her clothes.”
The Sue explained that she called her dad ‘Dean’ and John ‘Dad’.
“So in reality, she’s an ordinary Winchester-little-sister-Sue, with a convoluted back story,” remarked the RMC.
Mittens looked round. “This is from the beginning of the pilot episode,” he said. The complete lack of description meant, that their surroundings defaulted to canon, but the colours looked a bit pale. “If they leave the car unattended, we can get some salt and kerosene from it.”
“I think we’d better not,” said the RMC. “I can’t remember if they already have the devil’s trap in the trunk, but if they do, we don’t want to trigger it.”
“Why …” began Mittens. Then he stopped and his eyes went big. “Oh,” he said.
“I see you catch my drift.”
“Wasn’t it a bad idea for the Flowers to send us here, then?”
The RMC shrugged. “I suspect, that if we get the disadvantages, we also get the perks.”
We climbed out of the impala, and snuck inside the complex.
The lack of capitalization caused the car to turn into an antelope. The agents winced in sympathy as the two people climbed out of it. It looked painful.
I pick-lock my way in, and I listened for the thoughts or dreams of Sammy. Yeah, I’m a psychic. It helps a lot. Like, I can here people’s thoughts, make them see or think what I want them to see or think, and I can even make people do what I want them to do. Not only is it useful, but it’s also really fun. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten out of cleaning the motel room?
“That’s just wrong,” said the RMC. “You don’t use your psychic powers on your friends and family like that.”
“Charging. Also for crimes against grammar, punctuation and tenses.” Mittens stopped writing and lowered the notebook. “Can she hear our thoughts?”
“Maybe, but she seems to be focused on Sam, so we’re probably safe for now.”
In the fic, Raven hid, while Dean and Sam got into a brawl as per canon.
I watched them go at it for awhile (A/N: I just realised how dirty that sounded>D) and finally it ended with Dean on top. (A/N: That sounded dirty too! :3)
The RMC glared. “This is a Suefic. You’d think, we would at least be free of Wincest.”
“Or not,” I said reviling myself.
“You got it wrong,” said Mittens. “Reviling is what we’re doing to you.”
Dean told Sam that their father hadn’t been home for a few days.
Dean wasn’t getting through to him so I stepped in. Okay first you should know that I may be able to read his thoughts, I can’t do any other mind tricks on Sammy. It’s just weird. I’m telling you this so you don’t think Well, why don’t you just compel him to go with you?
“So the only reason,” the RMC said, more acidly with every word, “you don’t force your uncle-brother to leave his life and girlfriend, drag him back into something, he has made it very clear, he wants no part in and make him risk his life, is because you can’t. You are a horrible person. And it’s an extra charge for assuming that everyone else are horrible persons as well.” It turned to Mittens. “If she can’t compel Sam, it’s probably because of the demon part of him. That’s lucky for us.”
“Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days,”
Mittens facepalmed. “That’s exactly what Dean was going to say. Not only is she stealing lines, she’s making the canons look like idiots, who can’t speak for themselves.” He grabbed the Bleeprin and chewed moodily on a couple of pills. Then he looked at the RMC. “She’s just going to insert herself into the pilot episode, steal lines and not add anything but rubbish, isn’t she?”
“Ayup!” the RMC replied with false cheerfulness, having had a brief look at the Words ahead of them. It swallowed a couple of Bleeprin, looked at the bottle of pills, shrugged and swallowed some more.
They followed the canons and the Sue outside and settled down to watch behind a parked car.
Sam and Dean were arguing in lines taken more or less straight from the canon, but with added spelling mistakes. The Sue didn’t have any lines; instead she was making mental comments on everything the brothers said.
“I’m not,” Sam said much more calmly. Told you.
“Why not?” Dean asked raising his eyebrows. Well ain’t that a stupid question?
Obnoxious mental comments.
“Can we kill her now?” asked Mittens.
“No. Sorry.”
Raven told Sam that she wouldn’t give up being a hunter for anything.
The RMC scoffed. “She’s supposed to have an IQ of 360 and yet she wants nothing more than to run credit card scams and drive around killing monsters. I’m starting to think, there’s a zero too much in that number. We might be doing more or less the same, but at least we get paid and we recognise, that this isn’t the best job in the world.”
“So dad was taking out this two lane balck top just outside of Jerico, California. About a month ago this guy. They found his car but he’d vanished completely MIA.”
“Bleeprin?” asked Mittens.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
I slowed the message down, ran though a goldwave(?)
“If you don’t know what it is, why don’t you look it up!?” snapped Mittens. “It would have stopped you looking like an even greater moron than you already do.”
The RMC snatched the extra punctuation and started chewing on the quotation mark, stuffing the parentheses into its pocket for later.
The chapter ended with Sam wishing Raven a happy twelfth birthday.
“Speaking of which,” said the RMC. “How does the math add up?”
Mittens did a quick calculation, jotting down numbers in the note book, scratching his head and redoing them. Finally he said: “It doesn’t. This is 2005 and if she has just turned 12, she should have been born in 1993, but Dean is 26, so he wouldn’t have turned 15 until 1994.”
“Which means, that he couldn’t have been 15 when she was born, much less when she was conceived. Thank you. Make a charge for failing at basic math, resulting in under-age characters having sex.”
In the next chapter the canons were on the road, but had stopped for food. Since there were no more mentions of any impalas, they were now driving in a proper car.
I skipped inside and grabbed everything that was appeiling(SP?) Being a bird kid, you burn a lot of calories fast. So I have to eat a lot. Being a bird kid is also why I’m so tall. Sometimes people are all like, You could be a model! And I’m just like, Me. A model? You sir/ma’m owe me a new lung!
“So that’s what all that bird kid nonsense was about,” said the RMC, pocketing some more punctuation marks. “Being really tall and being able to eat lots of food without getting fat.”
But seriously, being tall can be pretty annoying. I’ve been hit on by a sixteen year old boy once.
“Why do Sues want to be tall and thin if it’s such a bother?” Mittens mused.
“Sues don’t want to be tall and thin, that would be shallow. They just are and they can’t help it. It’s almost like a curse. Trajeck, really.”
Both agents sniggered.
“Oh yeah? And what names did you put on the application this time?”
“Um, Burdafromniam(?), his son Hector, and grandaughter Lesely,” I said with my mouth full.
There was a small ‘pop’ and the mini-Hell Hound Burdafromniam appeared. It was also a Yorkshire Terrier, but rather than its fur being long and smooth, it was in tight curls.
“It has an afro,” Mittens said incredulously.
“Let’s just be grateful that ‘Lesely’ didn’t get us a mini-Sue.”
“What’s a grandaughter, anyway?” Mittens asked, picking up the mini-Hell Hound. “The daughter of his gran?”
“Probably has something to do with her unlikely family circumstances, which means that none of us wants to know.”
“Scored three cards out of the deal.”
“Do they issue credit cards to twelve-year-olds?” asked Mittens.
“No.”
Sam started going through Dean’s ‘caset tape collection‘.
Black Sabbeth? Moter Head? Metallica?
The agents blinked.
“One out of three,” the RMC said, falsely cheerful. “That’s not … Actually, it’s horrible. You call yourself a fan, you star in a fanfic and you can’t even be bothered to look up the names of Dean’s favourite bands!?”
Mittens handed it some more Bleeprin and wrote the charge. Then he made a mental note to snatch the tapes. They would make a nice souvenir and besides, he was a bit curious as to how the music sounded.
There was a new chapter. The brothers and the Sue arrived at the bridge where the scene with the police officers was to take place.
Sam and Dean got out their fake IDs, but Raven had to stay in the car. Sam had promised her that she could get her own fake ID when she turned fifteen, by which time she would be able to pass for someone in her early twenties.
Mittens leafed back through the notebook. “What happened to her ability to make people ‘see or think what I want them to see or think, and I can even make people do what I want them to do’?”
“Either she has forgotten about her special powers already or she’s too lazy to describe the following scene and this is her way of skipping it.”
“If she just stays in the car, can we go watch the canon scene?”
The RMC checked the Words and frowned. “She texts her friend and … Never mind, I’ll keep an eye on her, you can go watch.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Mittens, you’ll be standing right over there. I think I’ll be safe.”
So the RMC was handed the notebook and stayed to watch the Sue, who was texting her best friend Nick, who was ‘Bobby’s nephew and practically my brother‘.
Me: Damn it!
Him: Damn what?
Me: I have to stay in the car again!
Him: And I should care why?
Me: Dick.
Him: Meanie.
“So that’s the kind of conversation a girl genius, with an IQ of 360, has with her best friend,” the RMC muttered to itself.
Yeah, him and I have our own little name calling thingy. You know? Kind of like the one Sam and Dean have?
“No, it’s nothing like that. For one thing, their conversations are actually funny. I would charge you with stealing, except that you seem to have left empty-handed.”
Mittens returned, for which the RMC was grateful. Talking to itself felt kind of uncomfortable. It made it remember being locked up, alone.
“’Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you,’” Mittens quoted, with a chuckle.
The RMC smiled. “Hope you enjoyed it. I doubt we’ll be seeing much intact canon. Now, on to the next chapter.”
Name: Nickoli Thomas Singer
Age: 13 (He will also get older as the story prgresses)
A picture of Nick floated past them and disappeared.
Personality: People He Doesn’t Know: Vague, Quiet, Feirce.
“All three things at once?” Mittens mused.
People He Does Know: Sarcastic, Childish, Bubbly, Funny, Witty, Smart, Very Protective.
“You know,” the RMC said, looking up, as if addressing someone outside the Word World, “repeatedly stating that your characters are witty does not make them so. You have to actually write witty lines for them.”
Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Researching, Playing Computer Games, Hanging Out With Raven, Skate Boarding.
“Raven’s hobbies did not include ‘hanging out with Nick’,” said Mittens, who had started a new chargelist for Nick by writing on the last pages of the notebook.
“Almost enough to make you feel bad for him. Almost.”
His parents died when he was young by a poltergyste.
Both agents sniggered.
“I wonder what a ‘poltergyste’ is,” said Mittens.
“Obviously a bilingual pun, since ‘gyste’ is Danish for ‘shivered in fear’.”
So, his Uncle Bobby on his dad’s side took him in.
“So,” the RMC said, “he is both a non-canonical nephew and foster son to Bobby Singer. That’s like our Sue being both daughter and little sister to Dean.”
Half of his feels for Raven are like brother sister. The other half, however, is like feelings feelings, you know?
“Such eloquence in the description of luw and friendsheep,” said the RMC and downed another couple of Bleeprin. It checked the Words again. “They’re heading into town. You’ll watch the action for any more charges, I’ll go buy salt and kerosene.”
In the next chapter, Raven spelled Modesto as ‘Madesto(SP)‘ and Mittens aggravated the charge for knowingly spelling words wrong, then scooped up the punctuation marks for the RMC.
This one girl, she got murdered out on Centenial.
Mittens picked up the new mini-Hell Hound, Centenial, and placed it in the backpack with the others.
The RMC returned carrying a couple of shopping bags. Besides large quantities of salt and kerosene, it had bought chocolate and other goodies.“Anything interesting?”
Mittens shook his head. “Not really. They’re going to the library.”
Raven upstaged the brothers once again, by being the one who guessed, that they should search for articles about a suicide victim.
“This was 1918. Constance Welch, 24 years old jumps off Sylvainia Bridge and drowns in the river.”
“You fail at numbers as well as letters,” Mittens muttered, then bent to pick up Sylvainia the mini-Hell Hound. It barked in agreement, before being placed in the bag with the others.
An hour before they find her, she calls 911.
“In 1918? You fail at history as well,” said Mittens.
It was the same bridge that the cops were all over. So, that night we headed over there.
The RMC checked the Words ahead of them. “There’s some more copying the canon and except for the fact that she apparently enjoys watching the Winchesters argue, there are no new charges.” It frowned. “She uses her wings for the first time, but nothing comes of it. She just flies away from the possessed car. There’s a mini we need to pick up, but other than that, we can skip ahead.”
Mittens nodded and opened a portal.
That Constence chick, what a bitch!
Mittens picked up Constence and placed her in the backpack with the other minis.
Thank you Captian Obvious.
The RMC shifted both shopping bags to one hand, so it could use the other to pinch the bridge of its nose. “How do you manage to spell ‘captain’ wrong, but ‘obvious’ right?” it demanded.
Then the lack of a new paragraph caused both agents to be whipped through time and space and land in a small heap outside a motel.
“Is it just me,” began Mittens, getting up and helping the RMC to its feet, “or has the SPaG gotten worse? Back there she spelled genius as ‘genious’.”
“We could be dealing with deteriorating writing, caused by an author getting bored with her work,” agreed the RMC. “We need to watch ourselves in that case.” It looked at the Words again. “Let’s skip ahead.”
They portalled to where the cops were coming to arrest Sam and take Raven into custody.
I didn’t mind control them because I was trying to work on not using my powers. It really drains me.
“You are so full of it,” Mittens muttered, while scribbling the new charge.
The agents followed Dean, Raven and the sheriff to the station. Raven listened in on the sheriff and Dean’s conversation.
“You talking like Mistimener kind of trouble, or, ‘Squel like a Pig’ trouble?” Dean asked. I remember that movie!
“You got a reference to a grown-up movie,” said the RMC flatly. “How nice for you.” It turned. “Mittens, brace yourself.”
I almost got up and punched the sheriff’s stomach right on the spot.
With a jerk, that made the two agents stumble and almost fall, everything was pulled sideways and through a wall, as the Word World adjusted to the fact, that Raven was not listening in on the conversation; she was in the interrogation room with Dean and the sheriff. A moment later, she shifted back to being outside and the room followed. She then spend a bit of time in a sort of quantum uncertainty, where she was both in the room and outside it, before finally settling on being outside. Then the officers left the station and she went into the room again, but at least this time, she used the door. Both agents glared at her, nauseated by the many shifts.
I broke off the handcuffs with ease. I’m super strong like that.
“And it gets worse,” said the RMC gloomily, as the next chapter started.
Dean was calling Sam; Raven was ignoring the conversation, in favour of playing ‘pac man’ on her phone, until it got serious.
I walked over to the nearbye parking lot and hot wired a car.
“Much, much worse.”
We drove up the road and I saw the Impala in the far of distance, and thats with my super vision.
Mittens carefully split the rest of the bottle of Bleeprin between them and they both downed a large – but not big enough – handful of pills.
The whole climatic battle from the pilot episode was abridged to a few, clumsily worded paragraphs. After that came a few rushed chapters wrapping up the end of the episode and then a chapter consisting of nothing but an Auther’s Note.
So, just do you know, Raven doesn’t go on every hunt. She mostly just stays with Bobby and Nick until I decide her next hunt. But I’ll do chapters on her school life and stuff so you’ll be entertained.
“Sure,” said the RMC, when it was safe to remove one’s hands from one’s ears again. “What people really want to read in a Supernatural fic is stuff about some girl in middle school, with Sam and Dean being nowhere in sight.” It once again got the distant look, that meant it was looking ahead in the Words. This time the look stayed on for a very long time. “Oh no,” it said.
“Is it … bad?” Mittens ventured to ask. He actually shivered a little. Whatever could make the RMC go ‘oh no’ after everything else in the fic, had to be very bad.
“Oh, yes,” came the reply, followed by a long silence. Finally it said: “First it’s all about her going to school and being a weirdo and there are some kids being introduced, who are supposed to be her new friends.” Its voice started to loose its calm and got more agitated. “Then she just as suddenly goes back on a hunt. But it’s still partly about Nick, who is Andy Biersack or at least will be when he starts his band and …” It broke off its rant and had to take a couple of deep breaths. “I will not have it!” it shouted so suddenly and loudly that Mittens jumped. Then it stamped its foot, which would have been more effective, if they hadn’t been in the Author’s Note nothingness, where there wasn’t anything for its foot to connect with. “Mittens! Open a portal!”
“Um, of course. Whereto?”
“To the end of the pilot episode. We’re going to get her there.” It looked at Mittens, a furious glare in its eyes, he couldn’t remember having ever seen before and didn’t care to ever see again. “We are agents of the PPC, we protect canons from bad fanfic, but we are not obliged to police bad real-person fanfics, which is what this is becoming. Not to mention, that it gets really, really ugly. We are going back to the last time this was decidedly a Supernatural-fanfic and then we’ll shut it down.”
Mittens took a while fiddling with the RA. Opening a portal to a previous chapter was much more difficult because, if not done properly, they risked crossing their own time stream and meeting themselves, which would be embarrassing.
“Bobby and Nick are the only ones, who are mentioned in the fanfic part,” said the RMC, once again calm. “We’ll neuralyze Bobby and kill the kid. From the way he’s written later, I’m not inclined to offer him recruitment.”
Mittens nodded and pressed the final button to open the portal, that took them back to the scene at Breckenridge Road.
“So,” Mittens started once more fiddling with the Remote Activator, “now we separate her from the Winchesters?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“No?” Mittens looked up, surprised.
“I think, call it a hunch or what you will, that it’s actually better for the canon, if we can make the canon characters snap out of it on their own. I know, we don’t usually do it that way, but the Winchesters are hunters; they have experience with all sorts of weird stuff, including mind control. Maybe we can talk to them.”
“If you say so.”
“But keep the RA handy, just in case it doesn’t work out.”
Mittens and the RMC walked up to the two canons and the Sue, who were all still standing by the empty house.
“Sam and Dean Winchester?” said the RMC.
Both men turned.
“Yeah, that’s us,” Dean replied. “Who are you?”
“We are fellow hunters … of a sort.
“Really? What are your names?”
“This is Mithrades and I’m … Aniseed.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you. Where’ you from?”
“New Caledonia. And none of that matters. We are here to warn you about a very dangerous monster, that is stalking you.”
“What kind of monster?” asked Sam.
“Her.” The RMC pointed at Raven, who simply looked confused.
“If that’s a joke, it’s a very bad one,” said Dean. “If it’s not a joke, then let me tell you, that you are barking up the entirely wrong tree and I think you should leave and never come near my daughter again.”
“She’s not your daughter, she has simply manipulated you into thinking she is.”
Dean scoffed. “Bullshit!”
“Why? You know that she has the ability to manipulate people’s minds and she has never hesitated to use it on you.”
Dean opened his mouth, closed it again, looked at Raven, then at Sam, who looked equally confused, and finally back at the two agents. “Look, I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but she is my daughter, I know it.”
“You should go,” said Raven.
The RMC turned to look at her coldly. “I’m afraid that your jedi mind trick does not work on us,” it said and turned back to Dean. “What was her favourite toy, when she was little?”
Dean hesitated. “A teddy bear,” he said finally.
“Is that something you know or are you just guessing? What’s the name of her school?”
“I … I know it. I just can’t remember it right now.”
Mittens, who had been quiet until now, pointed at Raven. “What clothes are she wearing?”
They all turned to look at Raven. Unlike many other Sues, she had completely neglected to describe her outfit and was therefore wearing Generic Clothing. Until now it had defaulted to a sort of jeans-and-a-t-shirt outfit, but under the sudden scrutiny, it melted into something grey and foggy.
“She’s standing right there,” Mittens pressed on. “What is she wearing?”
“I don’t know,” Dean muttered. He was staring at Raven, as if he was seeing her for the first time, which wasn’t entirely untrue.
“That’s because she’s not really there, she has only made you think that she is,” said the RMC.
Dean looked from the agents back to Raven. “Who … are you?”
“This has gone far enough!” shouted Raven. “Dean, attack them!”
Dean immediately threw himself at Mittens, ignoring Sam, who yelled at him to stop and be rational about this.
Mittens, who’s lean appearance belied his real strength, managed to block Dean’s punch, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up, especially since he was trying not to hurt Dean, who seemed to have no such qualms regarding him.
The RMC folded its hands together, the way Mittens had taught it, swung them like a club at the Sue’s head, the way Mittens had taught it and missed completely, which had not been one of Mittens’ lessons.
She glared at it. “I’ll …” she began, but the RMC never found out, what it was she intended to do. In the next moment, she fell to the ground, unconscious. The RMC looked at Sam who was standing right behind where the Sue had stood, then it turned and looked at Dean and Mittens who had each other by the throats and were playing a game of who-passes-out-first.
“I think we should separate them,” it said.
“I think you’re right,” replied Sam.
“I want some answers!” Dean demanded, a few moments later. “Who is this girl? Why did I believe she was my kid? What was she trying to do to us?”
“All your questions will be answered in a moment, if you’ll look here,” the RMC said, pulling out the Neuralyzer.
“Hey, Sam! Close your eyes!” shouted Dean. “It’s one of those flashy thingies from Men in Black! They’re trying to make us forget!”
“It’s called a Neuralyzer,” the RMC said. “And, well, yes, I was.” It exchanged a glance with Mittens.
“Awkward,” he muttered.
“There are mind controlling monsters stalking the world and you just want us to forget, huh?” said Dean.
The RMC mulled this over for a moment. “Isn’t that kind of hypocritical? You and Sam rarely go around telling people about the things that go bump in the night.”
“That’s different,” said Dean. “Ordinary people can’t handle that sort of knowledge. They don’t even want it. But Sam and I are hunters. We can handle it.”
“Sorry, but no. There are things that even hunters like you can’t handle. Now, just open you eyes and lets get this over with.”
“No!” said Dean.
“Look,” said Sam. He was trying very hard for his puppy eyed look, which was surprisingly effective, even with closed eyes. “If you make us forget, we’ll be easy prey the next time one of those monsters shows up. You should tell us about them instead.”
“Don’t worry, if that happens, we’ll be there to protect you.”
“You are only two,” Sam argued. “What if something happens to you?”
“There are other hunters like us,” said the RMC. “They’ll look after you. And speaking of them, if you won’t let us neuralyze you, someone else will show up and get the job done. You can’t escape it. Might as well make it easy on all of us.”
Dean scoffed. “We’ll deal with whoever you send.”
“Tell me,” said the RMC, “aren’t you curious, as to why Raven couldn’t compel me and my partner?”
“Why do you want to tell us that, if you plan to erase our memories anyway?” asked Sam.
“I thought you might find it interesting. You see, it’s because she had already established that she couldn’t compel people who have something demonic in them, so it makes sense, that she certainly wouldn’t be able to manipulate an actual demon and a hellspawn.”
“What?” Dean forgot himself and opened his eyes in surprise. So did Sam.
[Flash]
“Sam and Dean Winchester, you do not know a girl named Raven, who claims to be Dean’s daughter. Any lingering memories of it, will have been an odd dream, caused by too much junk food before bedtime. You have just defeated the White Woman and now Sam wants to go home.”
The RMC pocketed the Neuralyzer, then picked up Raven who, being a Bird Kid, weighed almost nothing.
Mittens opened a portal and took the RMC’s shopping bags.
“Nice one with the clothes, Mittens,” said the RMC with a smile and walked though the portal.
Mittens blushed, smiled and followed.
Raven blinked a couple of times, her gaze slowly focusing on first Mittens, then the RMC, then at their surroundings. They were in an open field in the middle of nowhere. She was tied up and gagged.
“You’re awake,” said the RMC. “Finally. Now we can read your charges.”
Mittens opened the notebook. “Raven Natasha Winchester, as agents of the PPC we hereby charge you with having a supremely stupid story title; grossly violating the ‘show, don’t tell’ rule; redundancy; repeating things; creation of the mini-Hell Hounds Winchster, Burdafromniam, Centenial, Sylvainia and Constence; horrendous crimes against spelling, punctuation and grammar, especially tenses; with having a back story that managed to somehow be both a rip-off and not make a lick of sense.”
He stopped reading for a moment to look at her. “That’s actually quite a feat, because normally, in stories like this, the only parts that make sense are the ones stolen from elsewhere.”
He looked back in the notebook. “Where was I? Oh, yes. You are furthermore charged with giving yourself a ridiculous array of speshul abilities and powers and then placing random limitations on them, when using them would mean, that you would have to deviate from canon. You are especially charged with not knowing how an IQ score works and just giving yourself a random high number. This is made worse by the fact, that you sounded and acted like a moron throughout the story. You are charged with insulting Agatha Hetrodyne; having whole chapters with nothing but character stats; cruelty to a poor antelope; mentioning Wincest in a Suefic; being a horrible person; assuming that everyone else are horrible persons as well; not only stealing lines, but stealing the lines that made you look clever, thus making other people look stupid; having a bilingual pun, when you can barely manage your own language; making dumb mental comments and multiple instances of adding question marks after words you had spelled wrong.”
The RMC stepped forward. “Despite your many crimes against SPaG,” it said, “you have a grasp of the basics and you actually use that knowledge. You must have some idea about the value of proper grammar. So why didn’t you try harder? Use a spell check or at least look up words that you know, you can’t spell.” It stepped back.
Mittens whacked Raven over the head with the notebook for good measure, then continued reading. “You’re also charged with having the …” he squinted at the words the RMC had written, “… the most inane text conversation in the history of texting; with being a Mary Sue and with annoying PPC agents, for which the punishment is death.”
The RMC stepped forward again. “Normally our chargelist ends there. And normally we don’t charge for crimes we have only read in the Words and not witnessed ourselves, but we are willing to make an exception with you. We therefore charge you with loosing interest in your own story and rather than having the common decency to just abandon it, you hijack it. We charge you with turning a Supernatural fanfic into a real-person fanfic about this Andy Biersack, who we don’t really know and don’t care who is, but who we are sure, did not deserve to be dragged into this mess.”
Mittens pocketed the notebook and looked at the RMC. “Do you think we need to kill her in a special way? Like with a dagger that has been blessed seven times? Or maybe we should use a woodchipper; apparently, that works on most things.”
“I don’t think so. She hasn’t mentioned anything about being invincible. We should just make sure, that she doesn’t come back to haunt canon more than she already have, by salting and burning her.”
“Should she be alive or dead when we do that?”
There was a pause. Raven shivered, her gaze darting from one to the other, as Mittens used the time to sprinkle her with salt and pour kerosene on her.
Finally the RMC said: “Well, they’re always dead when they do it in canon, so I guess we have to kill her first.”
Mittens looked from the gun to the crossbow, decided on the crossbow, pointed it at Raven and fired.
There was a long drawn-out scream, muffled by the gag.
“Oops,” Mittens said flatly. “Was that your kneecap?” He retrieved the bolt and fired again, this time into her left eye.
The Sue turned back into an inflated dummy and glitter started streaming out of the two holes like sparkly smoke. Mittens stroked a match and let it drop on the dummy. The flames rose instantly and engulfed the cloud.
“We’re going to be in trouble about loosing a dummy,” he said.
The RMC shrugged. “Had to be done,” it said. “Unless the Flowers wanted a Glittery Woman who haunts the roads, luring unsuspecting canons to their deaths. Now, let’s go take care of Bobby and Nick.”
They neuralyzed Bobby and dragged off with Nick. After charging him with being a non-canonical nephew and foster-son of Bobby, engaging in inane texting, aiding and abetting a Sue and conspiring to do further crimes, he was executed by a gunshot through the head and the body salted and burned.
“What do you think happens with the rest of the OCs; I mean the ones from the rest of the fic?” asked Mittens, as he started opening a portal back to their RC.
The RMC shrugged. “They’ll never exist, I guess. Like in that episode with Titanic. A lot of people who were never supposed to be.” It smiled. “Possibly there’s a little book now, with their names in, belonging to Atropos.”
The portal opened and they walked though.
“We have new minis,” announced Mittens, as they stepped back into RC#170.
“Where?” asked Saxo, who was decorating half of the Response Centre with green fir branches and silver ornaments. James was hanging red and golden decorations on the other half.
“Right there,” said Mittens, pointing.
Both James and Saxo looked at the Yorkshire Terriers, who were already sniffing the floor and sending cautions looks in Aniseed’s direction. Except that they didn’t seem to look at them, as much as in their general direction.
“Where?” asked James, with a frown.
“Oh, I forgot,” said the RMC. “Hell Hounds can’t be seen by ordinary humans and such and neither can the minis, it would seem.”
“I’m not an ordinary human,” replied Saxo, indignantly.
“Neither am I,” said James.
“I did say ‘and such’,” replied the RMC. “Mittens and I can only see them, because …”
It was interrupted by a small ‘beep’ that indicated a message. “Will you get that, Mittens? No doubt we are being summoned to be berated about loosing the dummy.”
Mittens checked the message, frowned and turned. “We’re being transferred,” he said.
[Author’s Notes: This is from the newly discovered Circle of Lemmings. It’s not possible to copy paste from there, so all excerpts from the fic have been written in by me. I have tried to write everything exactly as it was, but it’s possible that I might have added some SPaG mistakes (not likely) or accidentally corrected some (more likely).
Mittens and the Radioactive Moss Creature are from an unpublished novel about angels and devils I wrote, before even knowing what Supernatural was. Any similarities between the two continua are coincidental, but highly amusing.
Despite the RMC’s rant. I am not against the sporking of real-person fics; I just think they require a lot more care and thought. In fact, if That Guy With The Glasses didn’t seem to be a self-sporking canon, I might have written a mission there. However, I had never heard of Andy Biersack before this. (When this fic caught my eye for the first time, there was no mention of him, neither in the title nor anywhere else.) Hardly a good starting point for a sporking. And while I won’t go into details, there were several things in that part of the story, that made me feel uncomfortable or even angry, and none of it made me feel, that I could get good humour from it.
Also, the later Supernatural parts were just the Sue once again – in Mittens’ words – inserting herself into canon and not adding anything but rubbish. Except for the occasional mini, there were no new charges and no new jokes. Therefore, I decided to simply wrap it up.]
RC#170 