Disclaimer: I don't own. I just rent.

Author's notes: I bet y'all thought I was dead. Nope! Just entirely too busy. But this (and my other) fanfiction has been pulling in the back of my mind. I hate not finishing things. Therefore, the next chapter will be the last chapter. I plan to have it out by the end of this summer.

I want to thank everyone for his/her support throughout this whole venture. I started with several different ideas of how I wanted this fanfiction to go, and, while it certainly isn't as long as I thought it would be (I was CRAZY), it is better than I thought it would be. Over the past few years, I and my husband have been writing it little by little, combining both of our styles into some weird hybrid. Makes me wonder what our kid will turn out like. Anyway, for those who've been with us from the beginning, I thank you. For those who are just tuning in, enjoy.

So without further ado, I give you:


The 11-year-old boy stared blankly at the TV screen as he played his new video game. His mother had bought it for him after he came down with strep throat. He was stuck at home with nothing to do except play Grand Theft Auto 7: Vatican City.

The boy smirked as he strangled the pontiff with garrote wire and stole the Pope-mobile, running over a nun for bonus points.

The door to his room swung open. "Billy? How are you feeling?" his mother asked sympathetically. "Are you still puking? Is your stool solid?" Billy's mother was a nurse, so she tended to speak too graphically about illnesses.

"No, Mom. I'm not puking and everything's normal. I think I can go back to school soon."

"We'll see," she said, smiling. Billy's mother was a bit overprotective. Billy's father had gone missing years ago, and Billy was really all she had left of him.

"I've got a surprise for you," she said.

"What is it?" he asked, sitting up.

His answer came as a stooped figure shoved his mother out of the doorframe and barged its way into the room.

"Move it, you fat cow!" the figure grumbled. "I should've taken your mother's advice and let her leave you in that dumpster. Always in the way…"

"Grandpa!" the boy shouted happily. Things were always more interesting when Grandpa came to visit—especially if he'd been in the sauce, which… The boy sniffed the air. Oh, yeah. This was going to be an interesting visit.

"How's the sick little sack of pig farts?" Grandpa asked gruffly. "What's wrong with you? Why are you lying about in bed all day like some retired syphilitic French whore? When I was your age, I was already working in the coal mines—making a living for myself." Grandpa coughed, hocking a gob of black liquid onto the wall.

"Oh Grandpa!" the boy laughed. "I just have a little cough, but Mom's making me stay home from school."

"Well, your mother's an idiot," Grandpa said. "If she weren't such an idiot, she wouldn't have gotten gang-banged by the entire football team her junior year of high school and squirted out a worthless blob of crying, pooping goo like you!"

The mother laughed. "Oh Dad! You and your stories—always exaggerating. You know good and well it wasn't the whole football team. It was only seven members of the chess club." Her eyes glazed over. "But for a day. I was their Queen." She looked at Billy. "And your father—the greatest chess player of them all, was my King."

"Whatever," Grandpa barked. "Get out of here, you old chess whore. I want to talk to the worthless blob of goo."

Mother smiled. "I think I'll leave you two pals alone," she said, easing out the door. Grandpa sat down in a chair by the bed, farting loudly as he did so. He reached for the ever-present flask in his inside jacket pocket.

"I brought you a very special present," Grandpa said, handing the boy a package wrapped in brown paper.

"What is it?" Billy asked.

"Open it and find out," urged Grandpa.

The boy worked his way through the brown paper to see a photo of a large-breasted woman fondling a Mah-Jong board.

"Gee, thanks, Grandpa," the boy said weakly. "Another copy of Mah-Jong My Jugs Monthly." The boy opened a drawer in his bedside table and placed it with the growing collection that Grandpa had been providing him since he was four.

Grandpa smiled proudly. "I bet that'll put hair on your chest. And make your penis erect, too!"

Grandpa reached into his jacket and removed another package, this one properly gift-wrapped. "But this is an even more special—specialer?—more special present."

The boy unwrapped it with a grin.

"A book?" the boy said.

"Yes, that's right you ungrateful little kangaroo turd. In my day, video games were called book. And Sears Roebuck catalogues were called toilet paper. What? They don't teach you to READ at that fancy SCHOOL you go to instead of the coal mine?"

"Sure, Grandpa. We read lots of things. Like, we just read this one book by John Knowles. These two guys are like really, really uncomfortably close friends and they mention each others butts a lot, and I think…"

"I don't care what kind of crap you read at your fancy school. I've brought you a REAL book to read. It's a very special book. My grandfather used to hit my father in the head with it when he was sick. My father used it to prop up a short leg on the dining room table. I beat your father to death with it, and now I'm going to read it to you."

"That sounds great, Grand… Wait, what did you say about my dad?"

"Never mind all that," Grandpa said hurriedly, taking the book with the mysterious dried brown stain on the cover out of Billy's hands. "You're sick, and I'm gonna read you this book. You got a problem with that?"

"No!" Billy said. "What's it about, anyway? Has it got any sports in it?"

"Are you kidding?" Grandpa asked. "It's got midget fights, traditional Irish hurling, ancient Greek wrestling—the real kind, where they only get to wear a leather thong and get rubbed down with olive oil—competitive eating, igloos, a river of taco sauce, rabid squirrels…"

"Really?" Billy asked excitedly.

"No," Grandpa said. "This is actually a parody fanfic about a badass Saiyan and an annoying Mary Sue character with a ridiculously long lead-in. So shut up."

"Okay," Billy grumbled.

Grandpa sat back in his chair and thumbed to the title page.

"Sarie Mue 11. By S. Morgenstern (with the help of Unromantic Poetess and Howler Wolfe), chapter one:

Chapter 11: Vegeta

Sarie Mue screamed as a baby Cell ripped its way out of her belly… Clawing, chirping, screeching with bloodlust and then…

It was over.

She opened her eyes to find herself lying in her comfortable pink bed in her overly pink room. It had all been a dream. Trunks, Goku, Frieza, Cell… All dreams.

"Oh well," she sighed. Sure, some of the dreams had been terrible, but she had still hoped to find her one perfect DBZ hunk.

She crawled out of bed and walked over to the mirror. She stretched with a powerful yawn and opened her eyes to see…

She had blue hair. And breasts that defied gravity.

"Wha…?" she began, when suddenly the roof shattered above her head, sending debris toppling all around her. She looked up just in time to see a flash of red glowing eyes and a gigantic furry foot coming down on her. She screamed, waiting to be crushed to death, and then…

It was over.

She awoke this time not in her comfortable pink bed in her overly pink room, but crammed into a tiny leather chair. She was surrounded on all sides by dull gray metal and blinking diodes. She looked forward through a tiny round window to see a large blue ball rushing toward her.

She blinked, trying to regain her composure. She tried to sit up and banged her head on the ceiling. Slowly, it dawned on her that she was in a Saiyan space pod.

"Oh great!" she said aloud. "I've probably been kidnapped by Frieza again or maybe that Great $&# of the Macrocosm is going to let Raditz blow me up or something."

But then again… She was alone. There was no captor to be seen. There was just her and her ship.

Her ship?

But that would make her a… She reached behind her, careful not to bang her elbows on any dials or gauges, and carefully worked her hand under her to feel… her tail. (No, not THAT way you sicko—a real brown furry TAIL tail. She wasn't just feeling her tail. Pervert.)

She was no longer merely Sarie Mue: Rabid Fangirl on the Rampage. She was Sarie Mue: The Saiyan!

The ship continued its breakneck rush toward what she assumed must be Earth. She quickly realized she had no idea how to fly the tiny ball of metal. Had the Great Will put her in this scenario merely to have her crash into the Earth in a fiery ball of death? It wouldn't be the first time.

But no. The ship seemed to be flying itself. It zoomed straight through the atmosphere to land in a Kansas cornfield with a thundering CRASH.

Jonathan and Martha Kent were having a breakfast of corn flakes, corn muffins, and corn-on-the-cob when they heard a thundering CRASH.

"What was that?!" Jonathan yelled, knocking over his glass of corn whiskey.

"I don't know, Jonathan," Martha said nervously. "Perhaps you'd better go have a look?"

Jonathan was already up, throwing on his jacket and grabbing his shotgun. "I hope it's not another one of those &$ space aliens," he said. "We had to beat that last baby one to death with a big green rock."

"I know!" she said, nodding. "It kept trying to fly away, but you showed it who was boss. Serves the little thing right for leaving a big hole in our corn field."

"Man's gotta protect his corn," Jonathan said as he walked out the door. "It's all about corn, justice, and the American way."

Jonathan saw that his corn field had indeed suffered from this latest extraterrestrial invader. A swath of stalks had been crushed and burned in what looked like a skid path, leading to a giant crater near the barn. He picked up a big green rock—just in case—and made his way to the smoking pit. Looking down he saw a metallic shell crack open to reveal…

A knockout.

She was wearing a skintight blue jumpsuit that did little to conceal and much to emphasize her indescribably perfect physique. She had the proportions of a swimsuit model and the muscle tone of a gymnast. Her eyes were piercingly dark—almost solid black, as she gazed at him through her tussled, wild hair. Her hair was—amazingly, considering the rest of her—her most striking feature. It jutted out in bizarre angles, as though she'd been in an explosion at a mousse factory. It was such a deep black as to have almost blue highlights. It almost made her look like an 80's rocker. The look was still in style, however, as Kansas, typically a few decades behind the rest of the country, had just hit circa 1983.

"What are you?" Jonathan asked, looking into those sharp, onyx eyes.

She stood up, brushing the red Kansas dust off her blue jumpsuit. As she stood, he noticed that she seemed to be wearing a furry belt that hung behind her.

"Who am I?" she repeated, her voice darkly sensual. "I am a woman on a mission. I am…" She struck a pose, jutting her breasts forward and lifting one hand in a fist above her head. "SARIE MUE! SAIYAN WARRIOR ELITE! And I intend to find me a man."

Jonathan's eyes went wide, like a deer caught in headlights. He'd seen that movie—the one where the beautiful alien chick came to Earth looking to mate and create a new hybrid ultra-powerful species that would take over the planet. He knew how these things worked. And so it was with only the slightest tinge of regret that he lifted the shotgun and aimed it at her perfect breasts. "Now look here, space sister. I'm just a good old boy. Never meanin' no harm. And you're not gonna use my sperm to take over the world!"

He pulled the trigger, peppering her with buckshot, which bounced off her ultra-elastic breasts and ricocheted back at and through Jonathan, who fell dead with a stupidly surprised expression.

She stumbled back, grabbing her chest. "Ow!" she screamed. "You shot me in the &# tits! Do you know how much that hurts?!"

Jonathan, being a man, probably didn't know what it felt like to be shot in the &# tits. And for that matter, he was dead, so he wasn't likely to offer any insights into the subject anyway.

Realizing this, she shrugged and made her plans. "Well, if I'm a hot Saiyan chick, I guess I have to find a hot Saiyan guy. And since it's sure as hell not gonna be Trunks or Gohan or," she shivered, "Goku, I guess there's really only one option."

She put her arms forward and leapt into the air. And fell down onto her face into the red Kansas dirt.

"How do I fly, anyway?" she wondered.

She thought back. She remembered watching the episode where Gohan had taught Videl how to fly. She recalled the first thing he had said to do was touch her center…er…life energy. She blushed. That had been an exciting episode.

She focused her energy and felt a rush of power. A faint flowing field surrounded her. She could feel the power rushing through her – coursing through her face, her chest, her arms, her toes, her… Everywhere. She was flushing furiously now. She hadn't expected powering up to feel so… exciting. But there'd be time for that later. She gathered the energy around her and felt herself rising up. With a blush and a muffled moan, she blasted off toward West City.

"YOU BIG STUPID JERK!" Bulma screamed. "I spent three weeks getting the gravity room back in shape. THREE WEEKS. I told you to take it easy—not to put the gravity over 300Gs until I knew it was working right. And what do you do? You crank it up to 700 in the first ten minutes!"

Bulma paused to take a breath, surveying the heap of rubble that had once been a state-of-the-art high-gravity simulation chamber. "You blast ALL of the training droids to pieces, and then, as if that weren't enough, you fly out, screaming like a banshee, and blow up the house! What the # is WRONG with you?"

Vegeta merely looked away. "I got carried away."

"CARRIED AWAY?" she screamed. "Carried away was when you blasted the head off of Trunks' Superman doll."

"It wasn't my fault!" Vegeta interrupted. "He had a smug look about him. He reminded me of Kakarott."

"And what's with that?" Bulma asked. "You're always training, always saying you have to get stronger. You have to beat Kakarott. Kakarott this, Kakarott that. If you're so freakin' obsessed with Goku, why didn't you just marry HIM?!"

"Because," Vegeta said. "This isn't that type of fanfiction."

Bulma sighed. "True enough. If this were that kind of story, I would have died in a car crash already, and there'd be some lame explanation about Saiyan telepathic bonds and…"

"ENOUGH WOMAN!" shouted Vegeta. "I'm sick of your nagging. So I blew up the house… again. Big deal! You carry around spare houses in those darn capsules of yours, anyway. You knew I was a warrior when you married me. You knew I had to train. So stop whining about it. If you raise that whining voice to me once more, I'll…"

"You'll WHAT?" shouted Bulma. "You know good and well that if you so much as touched me, you'd end up killing me. And then you'd have nobody to buy you expensive toys to break. You wouldn't hit me anyway, you're not man enough!"

It was at that moment that they both heard a scream. Looking up, they saw a busty figure plummeting from the air, heading straight toward Bulma.

"What the…" Bulma started to ask, but the question would never be completed. The tumbling figure landed on Bulma with a resounding SPLAT and every bone in Bulma's body was instantly shattered.

Vegeta merely stared in shock. Both at his crushed wife and at the gorgeous figure of the crusher.

Sarie Mue stood up, wiping excess Bulma off of her boots and blushed shyly. "Sorry," she said. "I'm still working on the landing part."

"You," Vegeta said. "You killed Bulma!"

"I did?" Sarie asked, surprised. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to kill anybody. I was just trying to find you, and…"

"You killed her! Squashed her like a bug!" Vegeta sputtered. "Blood is oozing from her mashed body like an overripe tomato. Her internal organs are smeared in a spiral pattern in a 20-foot radius."

"I was wondering what that was," admitted Sarie Mue.

They were interrupted as a Wizard of Oz fan club bus drove by. They were rehearsing for a charity concert later that evening.

"Ding-dong the witch is dead!" they sang.

"Which old witch?" asked the sopranos.

"The wicked witch" answered the basses.

They watched the bus as it drove on past.

"Well, then," said Vegeta, surprisingly calm now. "Saiyan custom is clear. Any time a rival female destroys one's mate, she is honor-bound to take her place. I know you're not a Saiyan, but nonetheless, I must insist that you honor all of the silly made-up customs that fanfic authors think of for Saiyan culture—obviously contrived plot devices though they be."

"Well, you're wrong about one thing," Sarie said, and she shook her tail at him. (No, not THAT kind of… Well actually, I guess both would apply, since it would be hard to shake one without the other inadvertently being shaken… Anyway, you're still a pervert!)

"Wha…" Vegeta stuttered. "You're a…a…"

"That right," Sarie purred. (Not literally. Just because some fanfiction writers seem to think that Saiyans literally purr, that's just silly. She purred in the metaphorical sense, which is to say, she said "that's right" in a sultry sort of voice. Get it? Got it? Good.) "I'm a Saiyan. Just like you."

She began to saunter toward him. "I've traveled farther than you could possibly imagine to find you," she said. She realized that she'd have to make up the obligatory back story as to why there was one Saiyan female left in the galaxy. There are rules to this, after all.

"You see," she began, tears welling up in her eyes as she began her flashback. "I was just a little girl. I'd just turned 3-Earth-years-old. My parents had thrown me a birthday party."

"Why would they celebrate your birthday in Earth years," asked Vegeta.

"They just did! Shut up!" snapped Sarie. "Anyway, it was the best! I got to eat space ice cream, and we had a Saiyan space cake. And I rode a Saiyan pony."

"There's no such thing," said Vegeta.

"Shut it!" she said. "But what I remember most…"

"You remember a lot for a 3-year-old," Vegeta said.

"I was a bright kid," she said. "I remember getting presents. And they got me my first miniature Saiyan space pod flying machine. I had so much fun riding it."

Vegeta sat down on the ground with a yawn as she continued.

"My mommy told me to be very careful and not to fly too far away. But I didn't listen. I wanted to see how far I could go with my new Saiyan space pod flying machine, so I zoomed out of the atmosphere to see the planet from space. It was gorgeous."

"Really?" asked Vegeta. "And what color was it?"

"It was red," she stammered.

"Red?" he asked.

"And yellow."

"Red and yellow? That's it?"

"No! You didn't let me finish. It was red and yellow and green and brown and scarlet and black and ochre and peach."

He looked at her expectantly.

"And..er…ruby and olive and violet and fawn and lilac and gold and chocolate and mauve and cream and crimson and silver and rose and azure and lemon and russet and grey and purple and white and pink and orange and BLUE!"

"Oh…" said Vegeta. "That's right."

"Anyway!" she continued, annoyed by his constant interruptions. "I was just about to go home, even though I knew Mother would scold me for going so far up, when I saw a terrible energy blast heading toward the planet."

"Really?" Vegeta asked. "What color was it?"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LET ME FINISH? I tried to fly back toward the surface to warn my family, when the energy wave hit the planet, and it exploded, and my ship was blasted into deep space by the force of the shockwave."

"Amazing that it destroyed the planet, but didn't crack your toy flying machine," Vegeta commented.

She continued, pretending not to notice. "So, then I was knocked unconscious. And I woke up to find myself on a strange planet. I would later find out it was the planet Ceti Alpha V."

"Why would any intelligent species name its own planet with Earth Roman numerals and Greek letters? That doesn't even make sense."

"Well, that's what they called it," she said. "And so the Ceti Alpha Fivians raised me and taught me to fight and to fly ships. And when I was old enough, I swore I'd find the rest of the Saiyan survivors and we'd rebuild our species!" she finished, rather pleased with her back story.

Vegeta looked at her. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. That story was more holes in it than Trunks' pink mesh shirts. It's like something a retarded 8-year-old would make up on an acid trip. It's like one of the new Star Wars movies!"

"Well, it's all true," she said with a pout. "So… Are you ready to start rebuilding the species?" She sauntered toward him, twirling her tail in one hand.

Vegeta was clearly in shock. "I just can't believe it," he said. "All these years, thinking Kakarott and I were the only Saiyans left… Except for Brolly and Turles and Paragus and Brolly again… But basically just Kakarott and me. And now you appear. Do you know what this means?"

"It means that we can go crazy playing Mah-Jong and have lots of little babies with tails?" she asked.

"Sure, sure, that, too," he said. "And that I finally have someone to help me defeat Kakarott! Come! We must begin training immediately!"

He shot a blast of energy at her big enough to destroy a planet. (Which apparently is not very much. I mean, King Kai kept saying that Goku was going to blow up the planet with every move he used. "No! Don't sneeze while using the Kao-ken attack! It could destroy the whole planet! Right, Bubbles?" And every character since has been using exponentially more powerful moves, so how is it that Earth hasn't been shattered by Chaotzu and Yajirobe getting too frisky with their sparring? Anyway…)

So the blast of energy was coming at her.

"Wha!" she screamed, throwing her hands in front of her for protection. Her own energy instinctively spiked, and an even larger blast of energy shot forward, swallowing Vegeta's and continuing to rush toward the stunned Saiyan prince.


Vegeta's body was thrown skyward, his clothes burning and ripping to shreds, with the impact of her ki blast. Sarie Mue opened her eyes, which she'd kept closed the entire time, and blinked. She wondered where Vegeta had gone off to.

"Vegeeeee-taaaaaah!" she cried. "Where aaaaarrrrrrreee yoooooouuuuuuuuu?"

No response.

"Well, I guess he must have flown o-"


The prince of Saiyans planted both his feet on her skull with his unexpected attack from above.

Sarie swatted at her head. "Darn mosquitoes," she muttered.

Vegeta ricocheted off her head, landing after completely unnecessary summersaults in the air. He breathed heavily, his clothing hanging off him. He held his arm, as though it had been broken.

"That was amazing!" he said. "You countered my energy blast and absorbed my kick with barely any effort. You are a truly formidable Saiyan! What family do you hail from?"

"Umm…" Sarie stammered. She didn't know anything about her Saiyan past except for the bunk she'd just made up. "I lived over on Eighth Street? Past the Glak'nars?'

"Now is not the time for joking!" shouted Vegeta. "Show me your insignia."

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, starting to unbutton her space leotard. (Buttons? Shut up—it could have buttons.)

"That's not what I meant," Vegeta groused. "Every Saiyan is tattooed at birth with an insignia incorporating his or her family lineage. That way we can brag about our heritages to less noble bloodlines. That's simply good manners for Saiyans. Show me your left butt cheek!"

"Well, it's a start," she mumbled, pulling down her space pants just enough for Vegeta to see the non-made-up tattoo that Saiyans really do have. And leotards can have pants and still be leotards. Shut up.

"Let's see," said Vegeta, pulling out a pair of reading glasses and propping them on his pointy nose and he leaned toward her butt. "Hmmm…blah blah blah…begat…who then begat…blah blah blah…son of…hmm… who fought the seven-toed Blarneq of Zherzek…yeah yeah…conqueror of the spider god…blah blah…"

"Just how big is this tattoo anyway?" asked Sarie, feeling a little embarrassed (and bare assed) at how much attention Vegeta was paying her left butt cheek.

"I'm almost to… ah… here we go," he said. "It says that you are the daughter of…" Vegeta sat up straight. "No! It can't be!"

"What can't be?" she asked.

"According to this, your father's name was… King Vegeta."

"King Ve… But that would make us – brother and sister!"

"Indeed," he replied standing up. "You wouldn't have known, of course. It is royal custom for the King of Saiyans to spread his seed around and have several illegitimate children scattered around just in case someone tries to exterminate the royal line. That way, there will always be someone to avenge them by destroying the usurper's entire family. Of course, by that time, the usurper has usually scattered around a few illegitimate children of his own, so they can come back a few years later to kill off that royal family. It's just how things are done with Saiyan royal families—an ancient custom that is in no way made up."

"I see," she said. "But if you and I are brother and sister, then that means…"

"Yes," he said, moving closer. He grabbed her in his arms and pressed her lips to his, kissing her passionately. "It means that we will not only re-establish the Saiyan race, but a pure royal line of succession!"

"What?!" she screamed, pulling away. "That's disgusting. I can't sleep with my brother."

"But the Saiyan royal line has intermarried for years. That's why we're the most powerful Saiyans. And the smartest and the tallest, too! And the most sane, of course. We've always pitied those lesser families who ran around marrying different strangers. It's bad for the bloodline, you see."

Sarie backed away, shocked. "I see… And Goku is stronger and taller than you why?"

"Kakarott? Well, you see, Kakarott was a commoner. One of thousands just like him..." Vegeta stopped. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh!" she said. "The reason you're so weak and short compared to him is that you're totally inbred. Your entire family is totally inbred. That's just gross and wrong."

"It's not wrong!" he shouted. "The royal line must be established once more! You must consent to be my bride! My mother/aunt/sister told me that if ever my family was to be killed, I must find a pretty cousin or niece to reestablish the line. Imagine finding a sister! A long-lost Saiyan sister! It's completely unthinkable. And very original, too, I might add. Never been done before—ever."

He came toward her, his hands grasping toward her ample bosom. "Be with me!"

"No!" she shouted, throwing out her hands and again blasting him with energy.


"But," Sarie said. "Wouldn't that kill you, too?"


"Uh-oh," said Sarie Mue.


Vegeta evaporated in a shower of color as energy radiated from him in powerful waves. The blast dipped down into the Earth's crust, setting off a chain reaction that… (Blah blah blah, you've seen this before. Think Namek, only this doesn't take 30 episodes.)

Long before the planet would collapse on itself, though, Sarie Mue was disintegrated into molecules, then atoms, then sub-atomic particles, and finally became free-floating energy, adding her little part to the fusion reaction that Vegeta had started.

Unfortunately, Vegeta's totally sane hissy fit sparked a change in the universe. Of course, we know that a butterfly's wings can cause hurricanes around the world. What can a planet explosion cause around the universe?

The Great Will of the Macrocosm watched the changes within the universe in horror. Suns were going supernova. Galaxies were being destroyed. Lindsey Lohan was out of rehab.

The Great Will could do nothing. As long as there was a governing principle of order, no matter how disordered the universe seemed to mere mortals, the Great Will had power. After all, she was the Great Will. She could bend the rules in small ways and nothing in the universe would break. She could even bring people back to life and place them in parodies of contrived fanfiction plots.

She was vaguely aware that Sarie Mue and the rest of the version of Earth were dead.

However, she was more interested in the growing rifts in the space-time continuum.

"I have to stop this," she whispered to herself. After all, there was no one around to hear her. "I can't do anything, but that doesn't matter. Somehow, I have to stop this."

The game had ended. The Great Will couldn't have guessed the result in her little game of playing around with self-insertion fanfics. She couldn't have known.

"I could have known. I just didn't want to. Who wants to be responsible for the destruction of the universe… the multiverse, even."

Far into the reaches of space, the Great Will felt something break. A seal. A seal she thought would last for at least several centuries. That would have been enough time to assemble her defenses.

As it was, hell was breaking out a little ahead of schedule.

She turned to her lackey and said what she'd been avoiding all this time.

"Assemble the heroes."

Her lackey, a nondescript person made up for just this scene, said, "Which ones?"

The Great Will closed her eyes. "All of them."

Chapter 12: The End of Everything


Chapter 12: Sarie Goes to the Beach


Chapter 12: We Get Fed Up with the Series and End it on a High Note