Insert Voyage Into a Doomed Future Here

The briefing was drawing to a close. The agents were seated around the table, finishing their drinks as Tash went though the agenda.

"…our latest sweep of the Pokémon Fandom caught eight Sues, two more than last time. If they continue to appear in such numbers, we might have to step up the frequency of the sweeps."

The assembled agents nodded. Pokémon was a troubled fandom, with hundreds of badly written fanfics - a fertile breeding ground for the Sues. Regular sweeps there were a routine duty of the society.

"There's also been a budget request submitted for developing a hairdryer hovercraft prototype" continued Tash. She looked sternly around the table. "Who keeps submitting these, as if I need to ask?"

Along the table, Gareth squirmed guiltily in his seat. The blond agent was today dressed in a blue waistcoat with a silver pattern and was clutching a cup of earl grey tea. He looked up and nodded. "It was my request. The scale model works, using nothing more than a common household hairdryer to create lift and propulsion. If we could build one, we'll have a fast, cheap attack vehicle for quick raids into fandoms."

"Request denied" said Tash. "We don't have the budget right now." It was a slight lie. The society budget was stretched, but there was some spare cash. It wasn't going to be wasted on this project though. Since his last mission in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Gareth had occupied himself by attempting to invent new devices to aid the society. A combination of his basic lack of mechanical aptitude, combined with the overall madness of the ideas, meant that none of his inventions ever worked. The infamous 'Land Shark Gun' had been his most spectacular failure to date - some of the sharks were still living wild in the poetry section of the library.

"If I raise the money myself, would I be able to proceed with the project?" said Gareth, undeterred. Tash braced herself to dissuade him from yet another madcap scheme but Harriet spoke instead.

"You're not building this. That's final" said the society leader.

"But I can…"

"No" said Harriet, shifting in her seat, causing the cricket bat wedged under the table to slip slightly more into view. Gareth looked apprehensively at it and quickly dropped the matter. All junior agents feared Harriet and her cricket bat.

"As I happens, I actually have something useful for you to do" said Harriet. "You know the Time Machine by H.G Wells?"

"Yes, I was reading it only last week. Why?"

"Check it again. The book was proceeding as it should, but there's a problem with page twelve. The Time Machine is just about to leave on its trip to the future when the story changes. Now, it simply says that a mysterious man enters the room, steals the machine from the inventor and vanishes off though time."

"A Gary Sue of some kind?" asked Gareth.

"Likely to be, but we don't know what havoc he might wreak now that he possess the eponymous Time Machine. You know that era of fiction well - sort it out."

The meeting broke up after another couple of routine matters and Gareth retuned to his rooms, thinking to check up on what was happening in the Time Machine. He searched through the battered books on the shelf until he found the one he was looking for. Sure enough, it was not as he remembered it.

The Time Machine told the tale of an eccentric English inventor, who creates a machine that allows him to travel into the future and see what manner of men had inherited the earth. In the far distant future, the traveller encounters the peaceful, childlike Eloi and the monstrous, cannibalistic Morlocks. Eventually, he discovers that both races are future variations of humans, with the upper classes evolving into the weak, foolish Eloi and the working classes forced to labour below ground until the became the fearsome Morlocks. The Traveller was supposed to return to the present with a warning of the dark future that awaited mankind. Now, all of that was gone - the book ended on page twelve with the entrance of the mysterious attacker and the rest of the pages were blank.

Gareth put down the book and sighed. He was essentially going in blind, with no idea the direction the Gary Stu might have taken the story in. His last two missions hadn't exactly been great successes either. The first Gary Stu he fought, a man named Alexander Whitestone, has escaped and evaded the best efforts of the society to track him down. More recently, he'd helped to defeat a Mary Sue in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, but a rather unusual version of Captain Nemo had done most of the work. He needed to rethink his tactics if he was to succeed this time.

His eyes fell upon an object by the door. It was the sword of Chu-Zhen, the Mary Sue from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. It was a beautiful Katana of polished steel, with a leather handgrip. He'd brought it back as a proof of her death and kept it as a trophy. He'd never carried a real sword of his own on a mission before, preferring to rely on capturing Sues with the prohibitor, but maybe it was time for a rethink. He remembered what Nemo had said "No more murder than an author with a delete key." With a slight feeling of trepidation, wondering if taking the too perfect weapon of a Mary Sue was the right thing to do, Gareth reached out and took the blade. Different from the fencing foil he was used to, but serviceable. Whatever awaited him in this fandom, he would be ready.

Previously, inaccurate use of the plothole generator had got him into trouble, so he carefully scanned the remaining text for a suitable point to jump into the story. Deciding on one, he picked up his bag and Chu-Zhen's sword, before opening up a plothole and vanishing from sight.

He emerged in a corridor inside the Time Traveller's house at Richmond. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of the dinner party where the story began. Ahead of him was the door to the workshop where the time machine had been built. All was quiet and safe, with no sign of Sues. Carefully, he pushed open the door to the workshop and looked inside.

It was a scene of utter devastation. The workshop had been torn to pieces, with tools and pieces of machinery everywhere, most smashed beyond repair. The Time Machine was nowhere to be seen, but the Time Traveller himself was visible, gagged and tied to a chair in the corner. Hurriedly, Gareth crossed the room to untie him. He looked into the bound protagonists eyes' and saw confusion and fear, perhaps with good reason. After all, this story had proceeded in exactly the same way for over a hundred years - tonight, it had changed beyond all recognition.

"Easy now" said Gareth, loosening the ropes. "You're safe now."

"No…I'm not" gasped the Traveller. "Neither are you."

With a sinking heart, Gareth turned around to see a man had entered the room and was standing in the doorway. To his surprise, he vaguely recognised him. In 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Chu-Zhen had been backed up by four well described henchmen, once normal characters whose Sueish tendencies had taken over the other elements of their personality.

The man looked like he'd come from a Western or perhaps an American Civil War epic. Many Gary Stus were handsome and well groomed, but this one was not. He had a rugged, unshaven appearance and the tanned, weather beaten skin of a frontiersman. His clothes were denim and leather and he wore a stained brown Stetson hat. A perfect example of rugged manhood stood before them, pointing an old fashioned Winchester Rifle at them.

Gareth's hand flew to the sword at his side, but the Gary Stu noticed and gestured to the sword.

"Drop the sword. Now" he said, in a rough Southern drawl. Gareth had no choice, but to obey. The sword skittered across the floor and vanished under a workbench.

"Against the wall, Agent" said the Cowboy. Gareth obeyed - not much choice with a gun pointed at him. If the worst came to the worst, he could always jump out with the plothole generator, but that would mean abandoning the hunt. By the time he returned with reinforcements, the trail would have gone cold.

Fortunately, he could see another option. Behind the Gary Stu, the Time Traveller was struggling with his bonds. Gareth had loosened them just enough for him to get one hand free. If he could free himself, surely he could help? The thing to do was keep the Gary Stu distracted.

"So" Gareth began, in a light, conversational tone (or at least one he hoped wasn't showing too much fear) "your clearly not the brains of this operation. Whoever stole the machine has vanished with it. You're just an expendable pawn, left to intercept pursuit. So tell me, who really stole the Time Machine?"

"I have my orders. One of them is not to talk to agents. Gives them too much time to plan an escape."

"I'm not planning an escape. I'm just going to stand right here" said Gareth, as a heavy spanner crashed down onto the man's head. He swayed and crumpled to the floor, revealing the sacred looking Time Traveller, who was standing clutching the first tool he'd been able to grab.

"Was he a Morlock?" asked the Traveller, clearly confused. Gareth stared for a second, before realising. The man was used to fighting Morlocks in the future - he'd never fought another human being before and his limited character latitude couldn't cope with the changes to his book, so he was filtering it though to a reference he could grasp.

"Uh… yes, he was a Morlock" said Gareth.

"The Morlocks have stolen my machine."

"Did you see what the man, sorry, Morlock who took the machine looked like?"

"The Morlocks have stolen my machine and taken it into their underground lair."

"Right… lets do this another way. The Morlocks may have your machine, but you are in your workshop. Can you build the Machine again from the parts here?"

"Build the Time Machine? Yes, build the Machine."

The next few hours were difficult. The Traveller struggled to grasp what was really going on, something that Gareth really couldn't blame him for. The Nemo he'd met in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea had been sentient, aware of his fictional existence. This man wasn't. He was used to everything proceeding as it should and now everything was happening differently. But it had its advantages. Every reading for over a hundred years, he'd constructed a working time machine. The inventor's hands flew over the salvaged parts, quickly building up the skeleton of a second machine. At first, Gareth tried to help, but this just lead to more confusion, so he wandered away to examine the body of the Gary Stu.

He wore the denim and leather clothes he must have been written in, with nothing that would have looked out of place on a ranch in 1870's Nebraska. Yet there was one odd thing - a delicate ring of silver and brass filigree, set with a single white pearl. Gareth remembered seeing the Mary Sue's in 20,000 Leagues wearing these rings too. An idea gripped Gareth's mind and he straightened up and turned to the still working Traveller. "I'm going to try something" he said. "Don't laugh."

"These clothes stink of countryside" moaned Gareth as he finished dressing in the dead Stu's clothes. Gareth was smaller and slimmer than the cowboy, so the clothes didn't fit that well, but by tightening the belt to its last hole he managed to at least look like a passable Stu. There was no way the cowboy's brown boots with the spurs would fit Gareth's feet, so he kept his polished black brogues - hopefully they wouldn't be noticed under the overlong denim jeans. Finally, he slipped the odd ring onto his finger, placed the Winchester rifle back in its holster and put the Stetson hat on his head. This idea was so insane it couldn't possibly work, could it? "Too late to back out now I guess" he said to no one in particular, before stepping forward to examine the rebuilt time machine.

"I haven't got all the parts I need, but it will travel into the fourth dimension of time" said the Traveller.

"Good job" said Gareth, looking over the rough machine. At its heart was the small, clocklike device which the Traveller used to demonstrate the principle of time travel to his dinner party guests in the first chapter. It would serve its purpose - Gareth planned to chase the thief into the future, recover the original Time Machine and eliminate the Mary Sue threat. If he was lucky, the disguise would allow him to pass unnoticed and find whoever was behind all this.

The Traveller leant over, looking like he was going to climb up onto the machine's seat. Gareth gently, but firmly pushed him back. "It won't be the future you remember" he said softly. The man still looked confused, so Gareth merely sighed, pulled himself up onto the seat and pushed the lever that would take him into the far future. If he was successful, they'd be able to repair the plotlines and the inventor would never know that anything untoward had occurred at all.

The sun raced round and round the sky as Gareth accelerated into the future, the jury rigged time machine shaking under unknowable strains. The house changed rapidly, crumbling away into ruins. The destination was the far distant future, where all industry and progress had vanished underground with the savage Morlocks, leaving a lush, green surface inhabited by the week, vapid Eloi. Finally, the flickering time stream slowed and normal time resumed. The sun was redder than it had been and cooler, but it still shone brightly over the land… a land filled with vast buildings of glass and steel.

A great civilisation stretched forth over what had once been southern Britain, the towns and cities consumed by one vast metropolis. Ships with fiery red engines soared though the sky and the signs of a progressive and industrious people were everywhere. This was not the dark future that H.G Wells had written about.

The Time Machine could only travel in time, not space, so the thief couldn't have gone very far. Gareth stashed his time machine in an alleyway between two of the buildings, and made his way though the city. The inhabitants were small, childlike beings with soft blond hair and light coloured eyes. They were clearly Eloi, but no Eloi knew how to use technology or speak English. Yet here they were, speaking perfect English to each other, using small futuristic tools and clearly building a thriving civilisation. Gareth worried that he would be instantly spotted, but he was in luck. Striding though the crowds were several ordinary humans. They looked as if they had come from various different books, ranging from medieval noble to a futuristic warrior. All of them had one thing in common though - they wore a single white stoned ring on one hand. Gareth was becoming more confident that the ring was the sign, the symbol of loyalty to the Sue behind all this. And if his hunch was right…

Avoiding any contract with the various Sues, Gareth carried on towards the centre of the vast metropolis, passing several construction sites where chained Morlocks laboured to build even taller skyscrapers. The small, pathetic Eloi had somehow been able to overcome the monstrous Morlocks. They couldn't have done so without outside help. That help seemed to be located in the very tallest and grandest tower, a huge construction of glass and white marble, decorated with an ivory sunburst symbol. A tide of Eloi were sweeping though the grand entrance doors, so Gareth joined them, passing into the heart of the future civilisation. Once inside, Gareth looked up and gasped.

It was a vast hall, lit by the suns rays filtering in though the glass panelled roof. A crowd of Eloi stood before a flower strewn stage, cheering and cat calling. Upon the stage sat the original time machine, its brass frame polished to a bright sheen. Next to it stood a man Gareth recognised only too well. He was tall and strong, with a smooth, imperial face framed by waves of jet black hair, which seemed to shine in the sunlight. One eye was bisected by a ruler straight duelling scar, but it only served to improve his appearance. It was the Gary Sue who'd escaped from him in the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen fandom and evaded capture for the best part of a year. It was Alexander Whitestone.

"…your work has been exemplary" shouted Whitestone, haranguing the mass of Eloi. "With the Morlocks defeated once and for all, you will be able to live in peace and tranquillity for evermore. With you behind me, I will be able to travel and share that peace with others, across all the…" he stopped mid sentence and smiled to himself. "But I see we have a guest, even though he comes in disguise. Come Agent, judge the mighty art that I have wrought here."

The tide of Eloi parted to let Gareth though, till he stood before the stage. Whitestone looked down at him, smiling indulgently, as if Gareth was an old friend rather than a past nemesis.

"I hoped that it would be you" he said softly. "I recognised you the moment you walked in. Something about the way you stand."

Gareth remained calm on the outside, but inwardly he cursed that his disguise had been seen though so easily.

"Whitestone" he said simply. "Give it up now. A plot change of this magnitude will bring more society agents. Just walk away. I've failed to capture you for a year, failing again today won't make any difference. Walk now and I won't follow." Gareth was tired of Whitestone, tired of failing to capture the same Sue. He was finally on other duties, where he has a chance to do some good. He wasn't going to waste more time chasing his old enemy across fiction.

The expression on Whitestone's face was bright, hungry somehow. "I could walk away…but to what? I can't go back to my own book - I was cut from the story. Cut for being too good. I could have taken it if I was cut for being a bad, two dimensional character, but my author thought I was too good."

Gareth was stunned into silence for a moment. "So you know…" he began.

"That I'm a character? That this is fiction? Yes, I know."

"I'm sorry for what happened to you, but - look, your destroying this fandom."

"Destroying it! No, I'm saving it. I know you, better than you think. You love Britain, civilisation, culture… in these pages, we see it all crumble to dust. I've saved it, made it better. Now I travel back to the very beginning of all things and change the other books too."

"The beginning of all things… what, you mean the big bang or something?" said Gareth, now thoroughly confused.

Whitestone looked disappointed, like a promising student had failed to grasp a simple concept. "No no no, weren't you listening? With the Time Machine in my possession, I can travel back to the spark of inspiration, the original idea that started each book. Change that and I change the whole fandom for the better."

Gareth understood. "You'll remove all war, poverty, struggle, evil… from each book in turn. But… they'll be terrible! No one will read them."

"They will. All the characters will be wonderful. Who could resist them. You'll help me, won't you. You'll help me make the books better?"

Gareth stared at Whitestone, feeling sudden pity for him. He wasn't a bad person, just a poorly written character who didn't understand that his actions would destroy books, not save them. He had to be stopped - before he hurt himself if nothing else".

Gareth dropped into a sudden crouch, drawing the Winchester rifle from its holster. The crowd of Eloi surged forward, but Whitestone merely laughed.

"You won't shoot me, you don't have the bottle. You had a clear shot with that crossbow when we were in Dracula and you missed. That was when I knew you were like me. You don't want me dead - you secretly wish to join me, even if you can't admit it to yourself."

Gareth remembered that adventure well. He had meant to hit Whitestone then, but he was a terrible shot. Here was a second chance - He fired the gun.

The gun boomed, loud as a cannon in the vast, echoing room. A wisp of powder smoke wafted across the stage and the bullet ricocheted off into some far corner. Whitestone and the Eloi ducked involuntarily at the bang, but recovered quickly.

Even as Whitestone straightened up, Gareth launched himself forward from his crouch, a smile of his own flickering across his lips. He hadn't meant to hit Whitestone, just distract him for a moment. Something silver gleamed in his hand as he careered into Whitestone, knocking him to the ground. The Sue struggled, but Gareth's hand shot out and clamped the prohibitor around his leg. It sprang to life with a whine, neutralising Whitestone's Sueish powers.

"You won't be able to keep me" coughed Whitestone. "My Legions are in this very room. Eloi, attack!"

Gareth rose and faced the room. "Eloi, do whatever you will" he called. The childlike beings stared at them, faces showing no emotion but polite interest.

"What are you waiting for" yelled Whitestone from the floor. "Attack!"

The Eloi did not move. Some at the back were beginning to wander away. Gareth leaned down to face Whitestone. "They're returning to how they were originally written. They don't care about anything any more, they just wait for others to do things for them. It's how they lost their civilisation and became as they are".

Gareth straightened up. With the Eloi returning to how they were meant to be, the fandom would reset itself. Whitestone's civilisation would crumble into dust and the inventor would travel to the dismal future he was meant to find. They'd have to sweep it to clear it of any lingering Sues, but that was a job for another day. Right now, it was time to get Whitestone back to the Library out of harms way.

The meeting room was full of agents, all talking about the mission and congratulating Gareth on his capture. Whitestone had been a flapping lose end for a year and now he was contained at last.

"Well done on bagging him at last - You'll never forget the first one you took down by yourself," said Karissa.

"Yeah, good capture" said Louise, hugging Gareth.

"I knew you'd get him in the end" said Tash, smiling. "I knew you'd do well as an agent."

"Glad to be here" replied Gareth, smiling back at them all. "Before we do anything else, there's one vital thing I have to do right now!"

"Get a Cup of Tea?" suggested Dave.

F

"That's next," said Gareth, "but first I have to get out of these clothes!" He was still wearing the western disguise from the dead Gary Stu. "Honestly, if I don't get into some properly tailored clothes soon…"

Insert Undersea Adventures Here

It was a swelteringly hot day in the Library as Alice made her way up one of the cast iron spiral staircases towards the rooms that Gareth had recently been assigned. The Wargs veteran had joined the society several months ago, but hadn't spent much time at the Library. On his first solo mission, he'd battled a powerful Gary Stu known as Alexander Whitestone in the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Fandom and come off second. Whitestone escaped and Gareth had spent the best part of a year hunting him though various fandoms, but to no avail. Whitestone hadn't been seen or heard or for months now, leading to Harriet closing the file on Whitestone and bringing Gareth back to the society a few weeks ago. Since then he'd taken rooms on one of the upper floors and helped out around the library.

Alice reached his door and knocked. There was a pause, before the door swung open to reveal Gareth, dressed in his usual smart suit trousers and shirt, but minus the customary jacket and waistcoat due to the heat.

"Dumpling!"

"Hey Alice" he replied, affectionately returning the glomp. "What's up?"

"Not much, everyone's trying to keep cool," she replied, following him into the room. It had been out of use for a long time but Gareth seemed to have made it his own. A large desk covered in papers filled one corner, with a chintz day bed occupying the other corner. The other two walls were lined with bookcases, holding Gareth's book collection. That wasn't what caught the eye though - every flat surface had some kind of ornament on it and every blank area of wall was occupied by a painting of some sort. A battered coffee table in the middle of the room currently held a mug of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"Kettles not long boiled, I can make you a cup if you like?"

"Thanks, but I can't stop long. Tash asked me to talk to you. She'd have come herself, but she's busy."

"Oh, what about?"

"How do you fancy another assignment"?

Gareth sat back on the day bed, took off his glasses and polished them for a moment before replying. "Sure, provided it's not as hot as the library today."

Alice smiled to herself. "If you want to get away from the heat, I think you'll be pleased…"

After Alice had left, Gareth wandered over to one of the bookcases and ran his hand along the worn spines. None of these books was a great library copy, he'd brought them all from home and knew each and every one of them like an old friend. Sure enough, he found what he was looking for, a battered copy of 2000 Leagues Under the Sea. He flicked it open at a random page and read a few lines. Everything was just as it should be, but he supposed he shouldn't have expected any different. There was a Sue within the Fandom, but she was being clever and avoiding the main plotlines. Instead, she'd burrowed her way into a minor fancfic telling the tale of Captain Nemo's exploration of the high artic named 2000 Leagues under the Ice and from there was causing disruption to the outer reaches of the fandom. It had to be stopped before the corruption reached the main plotlines.

He reached under the day bed and pulled out a leather messenger bag. Inside he kept all the things that might come in useful on assignments. Communicator, first aid kit, plothole generator, and perhaps most importantly, a prohibitor which would allow him to neutralise the Sue's powers. There, he ready. Calling up a plothole, he stepped through and landed in a polished metal corridor somewhere aboard the Nautilus.

It wasn't quite what he had expected. The polished walls were marred with fresh battle scars and the corridor was only dimly illuminated by red emergency lighting. As he looked around, struggling to get his bearings, he became aware of shouting and the noise of battle coming from somewhere else in the ship. That wasn't the main problem though. The main problem was the four grim faced men standing in front of him, guns trained directly at his heart. Cursing for himself for making such a stupid error, he raised his hands above his head. He definitely needed more practice with the plothole generator - if he survived this.

"Is he one of them?" asked the first man, who was probably their senior officer.

"Doesn't look like it," answered one of the others. "Shall we take him to the Captain?"

"Good idea," said the officer. "Right you, walk slowly in front of us and if you try anything clever, you die. Simple as that."

"Very simple," said Gareth, speaking as calmly as he could. Things were not as bad as they could have been after all. He was being taken to the Captain, which meant that he wasn't going to die yet. Still, he had an awful feeling that if this Captain was the Mary Sue he'd come to find, everything could turn really bad really quickly.

After binding his wrists together, they herded him though what seemed like miles of dimly lit corridors, until the four sailors and their prisoner arrived on the bridge of the Nautilus. It was an immense room, lit by a wonderful crystal chandelier. Some parts of it were being used as a makeshift infirmary, with wounded sailors lying on bedrolls in one corner. In another, parties of men were being issued with rifles from an open weapons locker. Yet all this paled into insignificance for Gareth when he saw the man who stood at the ships wheel before a vast window which looked out onto the frozen seabed. He was a tall man, black as midnight, with a curly beard glistening with scented oil and a piercing glare. He wore a curious mix of clothes, somewhere between European sailor and Indian prince. There could be no mistaking this man. It could only be Captain Nemo.

"Sir, we caught this one wandering alone. He surrendered to us."

Nemo walked over, his boots making hardly any sound on the metal deck. Although tall himself, Gareth had to crane his neck to meet his gaze. After a moment, Gareth looked away. Nemo could outstare a statue.

"He certainly doesn't't look like a Gary Stu to me," said Nemo.

Of all the things he'd expected, this wasn't it. Mouth hanging open in shock, Gareth raised his head again to meet the Captain's calm, intelligent gaze. "You know about Mary Sue's and Gary Stus?" he stuttered, reeling from the shock.

"Indeed. A powerful Mary Sue known as Chu-Zhen managed to sneak aboard the ship. By the time I saw her for what she was, she called others to her. We managed to contain them on the lower levels, but each one is a master swordsman and shot, better than all secondary characters and most leading ones. We have been making plans too…"

"Wait" said Gareth, his mind reeling. "You know you're a character? That this is fiction?"

"Indeed I do. Last time I checked, there were one thousand, seven hundred and eight almost identical Captain Nemo's, most of them convinced that they are the only one. This story had been read only seven times in the past forty years, so I've been able to develop what you might call a more… independent way of thinking. What I'm thinking now is that your from that Society I've been hearing tales of, am I right"?

"Yeah, your right" said Gareth. A bit of honesty caused him to add "I'm fairly new at all this though."

"Yet they send you on your own. You must be competent enough."

"Well…"said Gareth. He wished Nemo would blink more. Those calm, dark eyes felt like they were looking right though him. "I've been hunting one Gary Stu for almost a year now. I caught a couple of his minions and drove him away from the main plotlines, but he escaped. In a way, this is my second chance, an opportunity to do things properly."

"Fascinating. You contained the threat and saved the main plotlines, yet you doubt yourself."

"You never do that?" asked Gareth.

Nemo smiled, his dark eyes sparkling. "Perhaps I wasn't written that way."

Gareth smiled too. The Captain was strong, imposing, and just a little bit scary, but despite that, he found himself liking Nemo. "I came to find the Sue you mentioned. What did you say her name was?"

"Chu-Zhen. Half Chinese, Half American. Beautiful, deadly. Knows eight forms of martial arts and carries a deadly Japanese Katana."

"Sounds like a Sue alright. Thought you said she was Chinese, not Japanese."

"Whoever wrote her didn't know much about the Orient. Just threw together random pieces of eastern culture they'd read about to make a character." He sighed gently. "We have to deal with her. If she gains control of this vessel, she will be able to spread her influence to other Nautiluses in the fandom, eventually capturing the original. If that happens, 2000 Leagues Under the Sea as we know it may cease to exist."

He crossed the room towards a trestle table that had been set up close to the makeshift infirmary, Gareth following in his wake. "We must work out a plan to deal with her. Cup of tea while we think?"

"Everything stops for tea" said Gareth, taking the offered cup. He lifted it to his lips and drank. "This tea is heavenly! What blend is it?"

"It is made from a plant that grows in the undersea valleys of the Southern Ocean. When picked and dried, they make a tea more refreshing than any terrestrial plant. The Sea provides." He picked up his own cup and drank before speaking again. "I'm glad you spotted the difference. It would have been a shame to have had to kill you."

Gareth choked on his tea, looking up at Nemo in shock.

"Most Sues don't posses proper taste buds. Not written well enough. I use the tea to trap possible spies."

"Oh… you thought I was…"

"A precaution, nothing more. Come, we have work to do."

Whatever plans Nemo might have been making were interrupted as a klaxon sounded somewhere off in the distance. The Captain looked up. "Damm and Blast, they've broken though to the upper levels". He hurried over and held a rapid conversation with an officer.

"We shall try and intercept them on the grand staircase," he announced to his men. "I want volunteers." All of the able bodied men and quite a few of the walking wounded came forward. Nemo nodded to about half of them, leaving the others to guard the bridge and the wounded. With military precision, the sailors shouldered their rifles and marched though the door. Nemo made to follow them, but turned to Gareth as he did so.

"You will need arms if you are to go into battle with us. Can you shoot?"

"Not well."

"Handle a sword?"

"I fenced for the team at College."

"That will have to do. Grab one of those cutlasses and come with me."

The main staircase looked like a war zone. Armed Sues were swarming up the staircase, waving cutlasses and boarding pikes. There were hundreds of them - obviously minor Sues from naval adventures were ten a penny. Gareth scanned the sea of minor characters, looking for Chu-Zhen, but there was no sign of her. She'd sent her minions to do her dirty work."

Nemo's sailors were holding their own, laying down rifle fire to stop the Sue's ascent. Some of them were breaking though by shear weight of numbers, causing some of the sailors to cease fire and lay into them with bayonets and cutlasses.

Gareth flailed at a Sue with his borrowed cutlass. He'd been a good fencer, but of course everyone was padded and no one was actually trying to kill you. He lunged forward at a Sue who had just reached the top step. Unfortunately, it didn't work out the way he'd planned and he missed entirely. No, not entirely. The waving blade caught another Sue in the press, sending him toppling back down the stairs. Hoping no one realised that it was an accident, Gareth ducked a blow and faced his opponent. The man was clearly a Gary Stu of some kind, with handsome features and wrinkle free clothes, but his movements were curiously rigid and the face blank. Such a poorly described character as this was no threat.

Even as the though flashed though his mind, another warning klaxon sounded somewhere else in the ship. Momentarily distracted, Gareth didn't notice his opponent locking blades with him and twisting, sending the borrowed cutlass flying though the air. Seconds later he slashed again, cutting across Gareth's chest. The agent toppled backwards, blood spraying from the wound. Darkness closed in upon him and his last memory was seeing Nemo stepping over him, jewelled scimitar in hand to take on his opponent.

In his dreams, the Nautilus whirled around him. Whitestone appeared, laughing at him, before melding into Nemo. He dreamed he was back in the Library, walking along the bookshelves with Tash. He dreamed he was in the infirmary on the Nautilus. He dreamed of being back in Winchester. He dreamed he was in the infirmary on the Nautilus. He dreamed of his first failed mission. He dreamed he was in the infirmary on the Nautilus… he'd dreamed this before. Consciousness rose within him and his vision focused. He was in the infirmary on the Nautilus, battered, bruised, with an aching head and a throbbing pain in his bandaged chest, but still he was alive. Looking up from the bedroll, he could see Nemo standing at the wheel of the Nautilus. No one was any paying attention to Gareth, so he swung himself upright. His vision swam, but his legs held.

"Your awake," said Nemo without turning around. "How do you feel?"

"Lousy," said Gareth. "We lost?"

"Yes and no. We won the battle on the staircase, but Chu-Zhen wasn't there. She snuck past us while we were distracted and sabotaged the ship."

"Ah."

"Yes… she will pay for what she did to my Nautilus. If we survive. She sabotaged the air recycling unit. We have less than an hour's air left."

"Can we surface?"

"Not under the ice. We're heading for a patch of thin ice marked on the charts. We might be able to punch though there."

"Here's hoping" said Gareth. His legs shook and he had to grab Nemo's arm for support.

"I must have lost a lot of blood."

"Not too much, the wound was shallow. It's the laudanum after effects you feeling."

"What laudanum?"

"An effective painkiller, but with some strange side effects. Did you dream?"

"A bit. Suppose paracetamol would be too much to hope for..."

The Laudanum had made Gareth feel woozy, but at least it reduced the pain in his chest to a dull ache. The wound hadn't been life threatening, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt! He sat on a chair on the corner of the Nautiluses bridge, watching the frozen seabed slide past beneath them. It was haunting and beautiful, a glimpse into a frozen world. All at once he was seized wit determination. If the Mary Sue's took over this Fandom, all the beauty and charm would be gone, replaced by a perfect, sterile world. He wouldn't let that happen.

"We're here," said Nemo at last. The air was getting thin now, making breathing difficult. It was now or never. "Hold onto something."

The Nautilus rose though the icy water with a rush, gaining speed as it ascended. Every face on the bridge was nervous except for Nemo, who maintained his calm demeanour. Forty fathoms from the surface now. Thirty. Twenty. Ten. Impact.

With a scream of tortured metal, the Nautilus slammed into the thin ice. The ship shook with the strain as it powered though. Cracking ice slammed into the hull, causing it to ring like a bell and all the crockery in the galley shot off the shelves and smashed, adding the sound of breaking plates to the din. Then suddenly the ice snapped and the submarine breached the surface, emerging into the frozen night of an artic winter.

Nemo turned to the crew with a sigh of relief. "Get the hatches open" he ordered. The crew jumped to comply, eager for fresh air after their ordeal. The hatches swung open and they all gulped down lungful of cool, refreshing air.

"How bad is the damage?" asked Gareth. He, Nemo, and a party of sailors were outside the ship, bundled up in thick coats from the Nautiluses' wardrobes. Nemo had insisted that they inspect the damage as soon as possible, to see if they could get underway. The mighty submarine lay at an angle, mostly above the water, with only her bottom still submerged.

"Repairable. We'll have to ice hole hop to get back to warm waters, but we can do it."

The cold was making Gareth's chest hurt beneath the bandages. "Lets head back to the ship and draw up a repair schedule. If you get me some more laudanum to keep my chest from screaming, I'll be able to help with the repairs."

"In a moment," said Nemo, turning his back and looking up into the crystal sky, filled with the dancing Aurora Borealis. "I sometimes forget how beautiful the land can be."

Gareth would have answered, but his head turned sharply as he heard the distant sound of gunfire. An after-effect of the laudanum? No, Nemo had heard it too, carrying across the still artic air. His normally calm face was worried. "The Nautilus," he groaned. "We must get back aboard Nautilus," And he set off, boots flying athletically across the snow, with the others hurrying to keep up.

The gunfire had died by the time they reached the hatch back into Nautilus. Two sailors lay dead, their blood red on the snow. That wasn't what caught Gareth's attention. An Asian woman with cherry red lips was standing calmly by the hatch, holding a shining silver sword. She wore skimpy clothes quite unsuited to the weather, but didn't seem to be suffering from the cold. It was Chu-Zhen last and she didn't look happy to see them. Standing in a semi circle behind her were three men and a woman, all of whom held weapons. With a start, Gareth saw that one of the men had a button missing from his shirt, while another wore a necklace of polished ivory. Their clothes were dirty and wrinkled and one of the men had forgotten to shave. Each one wore an identical ring of polished brass and steel on their right hand. They had detail…they were not mere generic Sues, but well imagined characters whose Sueish tendencies had taken over the other elements of their character.

"More of you" Chu said, in a girly, sing song voice. "I will have this vessel for my own"

"You will go nowhere except the Library basement" said Gareth, reaching for his borrowed sword. Too late he realised that it was gone, dropped in the battle for the staircase. This was going from bad to worse pretty quickly. Chu-Zhen looked at him and frowned, perhaps contemplating killing him there and then. Fortunately, Nemo stepped forward.

"You have boarded my ship, killed my men and forced us here. You will do no further damage" He lifted his own scimitar. "A contest of arms, between us. Right here, right now."

"You challenge is accepted," said Chu-Zhen, darting forward with her blade. Nemo twisted out the way and counter attacked. It wasn't quite Sueish speed, but it was the speed of a man who'd lived his whole life on the high seas. They darted back and forth across the frozen hull of the Nautilus, blades locked in a dance of death, Indian Sailor and Chinese Warrior. Gareth watched, hoping against hope that Chu-Zhen would come close enough for him to get a prohibitor on her, but she remained tantalisingly out of reach.

The end came suddenly. Chu-Zhen leapt into the air, flying towards Nemo, blade outstretched. He neatly side stepped the blow and caught her as she landed, tipping her onto her face. She lay there, stunned, before trying to rise. Nemo regarded her impassively for a second, before lashing out, running her though with the scimitar. She coughed blood, them slumped inelegantly to the floor. The watching four Sues gave a howl of rage, before opening up poltholes of their own and departing.

"You killed her" said Gareth, shocked.

"No more murder than an author with a delete key," said Nemo, cleaning his blade on her tunic.

"I suppose," said Gareth. "She's dead at least. The plotlines should repair themselves now, provided the others don't come back."

"I will watch for them" said Nemo.

Gareth smiled. "They asked me to save this Fandom, but I think it was quite capable of saving itself."

"You will not always be so lucky. Here, take this back to your library and tell them the Sue is no longer a threat". He passed Chu-Zhen's shining silver sword across to Gareth, who examined it closely. It was a pretty thing, perfect in every way. Yet Nemo's scimitar, with its battered shark skin hand grip and battle knocks had beaten it. For a moment, Gareth considered keeping her sword for himself, but decided against it. Like the Sues themselves, it was just too perfect to be of any real use.

Insert Implausible Hunting Yarn Here

Allan Quartermain always made sure he knocked the ashes out of his pipe onto the rug. The nurses here were very firm about him not doing that, so he always made sure he did it to spite them. The old adventurer knew in his heart of hearts that he really should be a little more grateful. A lifetime as a poor elephant hunter and adventurer had left him with nothing more that some large scars and larger debts. Yet he'd served Britain well as a member of the league of Extraordinary Gentlemen and she'd rewarded him with a quiet and comfortable retirement… or at least Alex had.

Yes, Alexander Whitestone. His third, last and most successful apprentice. Twice before he'd sworn never to take another apprentice, first after Harry's death and then after what happened to poor Tom Sawyer. Yet he was glad he broken his vow his time. From simple adventurer and hunter, Alexander Whitestone had risen to become the most powerful man in the civilised world, victor of a hundred battles, head of the reformed League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and now, at barely twenty nine, newly elected Prime Minister of Great Britain and her empire. The boy turned out well after all.

Quartermain's reminiscing was interrupted by a crash from the bedroom next door. Even at his advanced age, the instincts honed over a lifetimes adventuring told him that this could mean nothing good. The front door was guarded by security, all visitors had to sign in and nurses and orderlies patrolled the corridors. Alex said the world was safe now, with no enemies left to fight, but perhaps he was wrong? Unconsciously, he reached for his elephant gun, but alas, it was long gone. The nurses here certainly didn't allow such things. A weapon, any weapon - ahah! He spotted something that would do and wrenched it free. Moving almost silently on his carpet slippers, the old man headed into the bedroom.

What he found there was not anything like what he'd expected. The door of his wardrobe had been flung open, scattering clothes across the floor. In the midst of the mess, a dazed young man sat, cursing at the strange instrument that he held in his hand. "Stupid… useless… bloody polthole generators" he grumbled, punching ineffectually at buttons. He looked up and saw Quartermain standing there.

"Where is this" he asked urgently, catching Quartermain off guard.

"Uh… the St Roche twilight rest home".

"Damm"! roared the stranger, throwing the strange instrument to the floor in frustration. Suddenly, his eyes alighted on the ornamental Zulu spear still clutched in Quartermain's hand and stood up slowly, his palms outstretched to show he was unarmed. Thinking it was high time he took control of this odd conversation, Quartermain spoke.

"I've answered your question boy, now you answer mine. Who are you and what the hell were you doing in my wardrobe"?

"That's really two questions but okay. You can call me Gareth and I didn't mean to end up there. I'm sorry to have trespassed. If you just show me the way out, I won't take up any more of your time".

Quartermain paid him a little more attention. He was a thin young man, no muscles to speak off. He didn't look like he'd survive a trek across the Serengeti or a struggle with marauding natives. His clothes helped to give him a non threatening appearance. His suit was made of soft grey wool and his scarlet waistcoat was clearly silk with a gold watch chain dangling from it. An expensive looking messenger bag with silver clasps was slung across one shoulder and his square glasses looked well made. If he'd passed him in the street he would have dismissed him as a dandy, a fop, but why had he appeared in his wardrobe?

Suddenly, the old hunter realised that he'd forgotten something important - when you are sizing someone up, they are often sizing you up in turn. The youths eyes had roamed the room, taking in the carved ivory on the desk, the leopard skin on the back of the chair and the witch doctors mask on the wall. He'd also seen the tough, weather beaten skin of the old adventurer and recognised the grizzled, bearded face.

"You… your Allan Quartermain" he said slowly.

"I might be".

"What are you doing here" Gareth muttered to himself, reaching into his bag and pulling out a battered book. As he thumbed though it, Quartermain thought he saw the words 'The League of Ex…' printed on the front, but the rest of the title was covered by Gareth's white gloved hand.

"You can't be here, hidden away in some rest home, not unless Whitestone's had more of an effect that I thought".

"I'm sorry, what was that about Alex"?

"Alexander Whitestone. You know him"?

"Reckon falling out of my wardrobes addled your brains boy, of course I know him, he's the Prime Minister. Perhaps you mean do I know him personally? I do, he was my apprentice". He broke of as Gareth let out a low growl.

"Prime Minister" he breathed. "Its gone farther than I thought".

"What do you mean" demanded Quartermain. "Everyone says that Alex is the best thing that ever happened to this country. The Martians on the run, the Vampire Lords of Romania defeated and the treaty of perpetual alliance with Germany to be signed today. Alex has worked wonders in so short a time".

Gareth gave him a piercing look. "I notice that 'everyone says Alex is the best thing that ever happened to this country'. You have doubts don't you. His meteoric rise was just a little too quick, a little too good to be true wasn't it".

Quartermain shifted uncomfortably, before grunting "perhaps."

"Just hear me out" pleaded Gareth. "You've noticed something's not quite right with Whitestone. Or rather, nothings wrong with him, he's too perfect. Well he's not supposed to be Prime Minister. He's not even supposed to be in this fandom…" catching Quartermain's blank look, he hurriedly corrected himself "…not even supposed to be in this world I mean".

The old character still looked sceptical. How to explain all this wondered Gareth. He was still very new at this himself, having just scraped though the written exam for the society. This previously unspoiled fandom was his first solo assignment, having been invaded by a rouge Mary-Sue from a demolished work.

It was fast becoming a turgid mess of unreadable, flowery prose praising Whitestone's more and more unrealistic feats of heroism. Yet he couldn't explain this to a cannon character, could he? Still, he'd been tracking Whitestone for a week and so far, he'd been outwitted at very turn. It might be time to recruit some help - either that or go back to the society in shame and defeat. After all, he didn't have to tell Quartermain the whole truth, part of it would do.

"Whitestone destroying this world, turning it into an empty, false utopia" he explained. "He's removed everyone who could possibly challenge him, sent you to rot in this out of the way rest home. He's not right and deep down, you know this, I see it in your eyes. I beg you help me, just in one small way. Tell me anything you know about how might be able to find Whitestone".

Quartermain thought for what seemed like an age. He ought to throw this impudent young pup out right now for insulting Alex….and go back to a life of tyrannical nurses and boring days. He shuddered at the thought. On the other hand, somehow the boy's mad ramblings made sense. Alex always had seemed a little too good to be true.

"It couldn't hurt to tell you where he'll be today, its common knowledge after all. He's sighing the treaty with the Kaiser in the crystal palace at noon".

"Noon" cried Gareth, hauling his watch out of his pocket and staring at it. "I can still make that if I hurry. Thanks for your help" and with that, he darted towards the door and vanished though it. Almost before he knew what he was doing, Quartermain broke into a run and followed him.

"Don't try and follow me" called Gareth as they raced down the stairs.

"Your not getting away that… easily" puffed the old adventurer. "I still don't trust you… won't let you hurt… Alex".

Visiting hours weren't over, so the front door lay open. Gareth passed through the door, but stood on the pavement, waiting for him to catch up.

"I won't hurt him, but I need to get close to him. He's destroying this world. If your going to come with me, you have to help me capture him".

"I think you misunderstand me boy. I'm not coming with you - you're coming with me"!

"What"?

"I can't let you boys run off by yourselves, who knows what could happen. If this needs sorting out I'll be the one to do it. Either keep quiet and follow me, or I'll take you apart, even at my age".

Gareth argued, but to no avail. Five minutes later, they were in a cab bound for Crystal Palace. Quartermain smoked quietly, while Gareth fidgeted nervously, becoming more and more agitated. Soon, the traffic became heavier. When at last the Crystal Palace came into view, Gareth stuffed a handful of pound notes into the drivers hand and leapt out into the crowded streets, Quartermain following closely behind. It was a struggle, but they managed to shoulder their way though the crowd to a side door. In side, a set of rough wooden stairs led up to the top row of a set of stands that had been erected to allow spectators to watch the historic signing. The two of them paused in the back row, looking out over the sunlit glass hall.

On a raised dais in the centre of the hall stood a simple table and two chairs. One was already occupied by a short, regal man with a flowing moustache - the Kaiser of Germany. The other chair was empty, seemingly reserved for the man who was giving a speech from behind a single podium. The Kaiser had a certain noble bearing, but it paled into insignificance before this man's glory. He was tall and strong, with a smooth, imperial face framed by waves of jet black hair, which seemed to shine in the sunlight. One eye was bisected by a ruler straight duelling scar, but only served to improve his appearance. Before the stage, women swooned and men applauded. The most stylish, powerful wonderful man in the whole…

Up on the benches, Gareth saw these words materialise in the book he was holding. "Sickening isn't it" he muttered to himself. He turned to Quartermain. "Who are those men with him, the ones in front of the stage"?

"The New League, our successors. Better than we ever were. Wish we'd had even one of them when poor Sawyer met his end, things could have been different." He sighed sadly.

"New League… hmmm, bet they only turned up after Whitestone did. Are there none of the old League of Extraordinary Gentlemen left, the ones you led"?

"Most of us are gone now. Sawyers dead, I'm retired, Captain Nemo's exploring the artic circle somewhere. Still one or two around though. If you look closely, you'll see Dr Jekyll on the front bench down there". Gareth focused and caught sight of a neat little man in the front row, watching proceedings. He seemed to be one of the few not applauding fiercely, which looked like a good sign. Perhaps major characters were the last to succumb to the influence of Mary-Sues. "Could be useful" he murmured. "Okay, this is how we'll play it. You try and get to Jekyll, explain to him what's going on. I'm going to try and get to Whitestone - oh don't look at me like that, I'm not going to hurt him, I don't even have a weapon for God's sake".

The old adventurer fought his way towards Jekyll, while Gareth walked down the benches towards the stage. At first no one noticed, but as he drew closer, the speech died away.

"Alexander Whitestone, you are in violation of Library rules on introducing unlicensed Mary-Sues into a fandom. By order of the society, I demand that you…".

He ducked as Whitestone effortlessly picked up the heavy oak podium with one hand, roared "damm society agents" and flung it directly at his head.

Should have known that wouldn't work thought Gareth to himself as he claimed awkwardly up onto the stage. Soldiers in immaculate white uniforms were hurrying towards him, but they were being distracted - the vast, hulking form of Mr Hyde was ripping its way out of Jekyll's slight frame. Quartermain must have been able to reach him in time. Amidst the chaos, he could see Whitestone, not more that a few yards away.

He hadn't lied when he told Quartermain that he wasn't planning to kill Whitestone. Tash had asked him to bring the Sue back alive if at all possible. He just had to grab Whitestone and open up a polthole back to the library, then this would all be over. He was almost within touching distance of his quarry when something heavy slammed into him, almost knocking him over. What could it be? He strained to see, but whatever it was had vanished. Even as he shook himself, he felt an unseen fist punch him directly in the face, sending flecks of blood flying across the room. Worse still, his glasses had gone spinning across the floor, leaving him half blind.

Gareth struck out blindly, failed to hit anything at all and stumbled forwards. Before he had any chance to recover, he felt something invisible wrap around his neck. It felt like a wire or garrotte of some kind. He struggled ineffectually, but to no avail. As the breath was crushed out of him his final thought was 'my very first mission. Failed on my first mission'.

Then, release. Oxygen flooded back into his lungs as he fell forward, gulping vast lungfuls of air. Slowly, his vision returned to normal and he spotted Quartermain standing over him with a discarded rifle in one hand and a grim expression on his face. Smoke filled the air of the crystal palace and many of the panes of glass had been shattered by stray bullets.

"Are you just going to lie there all day," grumbled Quartermain, pulling him to his feet.

"I'm aright I think. Thanks."

"Don't mention it, got in worse scrapes out in Africa. I remembered one time… what the devil?!"

He broke off in surprise as the air at his feet shimmered and shed like snakeskin, revealing an unconscious man lying there, one side of his face bloodied and bruised where Quartermain had hit him with the rifle butt.

"One of the New League" muttered Gareth, giving the unconscious man a vicious kick. "Whitestone must have access to the League's invisibility formula. Talking of Whitestone, where is he?"

"Gone, he must have slipped out during the chaos. One thing though - once you use the invisibility formula, its permanent. How did this man manage to change back?"

"Hmmmmm… good point" said Gareth. To Quartermain's surprise, a smile spread over his face. "This man must be a Mary Sue too. Probably all the New League are. They can defy existing laws and do things that should be impossible. They seem perfect, but their taint destroys everything. That's why the Society I'm from exists. We hunt them down and keep them under control. Its not Whitestone, but I'll take this man back to the Society now. That should prove that I'm worthy to be out on my own".

"What of Whitestone?"

"Next time" answered Gareth. "I don't know where he'll be, but if he turns up here again, I could use a good hunter. That is, if your interested?"

"Could be worth thinking about," said Quartermain. "Looks like its not time for me to retire just yet after all."