AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a shameless self insert fic starring myself and my close friend and fellow fanfic author Drakonlily. It is by no means meant to be taken seriously, and was written solely for our entertainment. Consider yourself warned.


Little is known about how the two young women found themselves wandering the darkened, foreboding interior of an ancient pyramid located some two thousand feet below the Antarctic surface. Some may speculate that they were hired by a large corporation for their expertise; what area their expertise was in is questionable. Others may think that the two intrepid writers simply stumbled upon the temple, no matter how unlikely that may seem because it was far, far underground. The truth, however, was that Sol had finally been overwhelmed by her hatred of Mary Sues, and had decided to set things right by writing a bad one of her own.

And thus the two friends Drakon and Sol came to be in the pyramid.

Both had come well prepared in clothing both warm and resembling something out of Hot Topic. Anticipating encounters with unpleasant creatures they had brought along a myriad of weapons (many of which neither had ever seen but inexplicably were adept at using) and a large number of flashlights. The long climb up the stairwell entrance to the pyramid was marred by frequent stops, as Sol was out of shape and not fond of elevated inclines of any sort. When finally they gained entry both were exuberant, but said exuberance faded when they realized that the inside was dark, musty, and held a faint indefinable door of something unpleasant. Drakon cracked her light stick and it began to glow immediately, and Sol followed suit. Together they both began to examine the walls around them.

"Can you read any of this?" Drakon asked Sol.

"Mmm. No." The other replied. "It's not fanfiction."

"Yeah," Drakon said glumly. She shook a stray tendril of brown hair that shone ludicrously bright even in the dimness surrounding them, and looked around with eyes that glowed with a luminance any anime character would envy. Sol, having also shook her long, incredibly and impossibly beautiful brown hair, let fall the glowstick and removed from one of her many cool Goth pockets in her bondage pants a flashlight and turned it on. "Shall we?" She said.

Drakon nodded, and so they proceeded further into the pyramid.


The further they went, the more their unease grew. Flashlights and guns are all fun and great, but if you only think you're being stalked by a horrific creature from another planet they won't do a lot of good. Sol, who never did well in ominous places and thus made a habit of avoiding them, was on the verge of hyperventilating. They really had no good reason for being here, other than the fact that they both enjoyed AVP and had wondered how well they'd survive on their own in a similar situation. Drakon was calmer than her counterpart, and because said counterpart was cowering behind her back she had been forced to take the lead.

Time ceased to have all meaning for the two of them as they traversed room upon room. There was only the sound of their footsteps echoing eerily on the centuries old stone floor, their own erratic heartbeats thundering in their ears, and a high pitched wheezing shriek that both attributed to the other as part of a panic attack.

It was only when both had stopped and looked at each other that they realized that the noise wasn't coming from either of them, and as one the duo turned slowly to face the corridor they had so recently exited. Something black that shone even in the sickly lack of light was standing there before them, and both could see the pointy, sharp, jagged pearly whites it was snarling with.

Drakon said, with great eloquence, "Fuck me hard … what the fuck is that?"

To which Sol replied with an unintelligible whisper-shriek. Drakon, having been able to decipher the word "run", decided to heed her friend's wise if somewhat incomprehensible advice, and together they turned heel and fled.

Running is never a fun thing to do, and it only looks graceful in the movies. When one is truly terrified, one runs with all the grace of a stampede of fat people and becomes out of breath fairly fast. While Drakon and Sol had no idea whether they could actually escape the black alien that wanted to eat them or at least have them impregnated by a facehugger, they decided discretion was the better part of valour and pushed themselves ever onwards. When finally they could run no longer, they collapsed into panting heaps on the floor of a chamber lined on either side with intimidating statues of large masked muscular things. When Sol could speak without going into paroxysms, she said hoarsely, "Are you alright?"

"More or less," Drakon gasped, checking to make sure she still carried her two semi-automatic pistols, her Russian assault rifle, her sawed off double barrel, and her mini Uzi. Sol, armed much the same but for some reason carrying an archaic trident that looked cool, climbed to her feet and looked around.

"Drakon …" she said in a strangled voice. Drakon, thoroughly engrossed in the fact that her Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie had secret inner pockets, didn't reply. Sol said something else, and the plaintive note of absolute fear in her tone prompted Drakon to raise her gaze.

"Oh my," she whispered. Those weren't statues lining the walls of this room. Those were real creatures that breathed and trilled and altogether overpowered both women with their air of utter menace.

"Fuck this," Sol said, and made use of her über leet cyber ninja skills to throw her trident. Being as ancient as it was, it struck the chest of one of the creatures and shattered. Ninja or not, Sol knew when to retreat, and so with another frantic scream she grabbed Drakon by the arm and together they fled once again. Roars resounded behind them, but neither wished to look back and see what, if anything, was following them.

"Can't run well," Sol panted as they rounded a corner, "Too fat,"

The only thing that stopped them was the trio of black aliens that appeared directly in their path.


TBC … maybe.