Kill #6:
The Nick Who Killed Fanfic
By Julie
Every fan
on AC liked fanfics a lot…
But Nick,
who often got killed in them, did NOT!
Nick hated
those stories! All Backstreet fan
fiction!
You can
understand why, given all his afflictions.
In one
story, he came down with cancer and died.
In another,
he had Alzheimer’s and was dead inside.
But I think
the most awful affliction on that page
May have
been the Ebola he contracted onstage.
Whatever
his cause of death, freezing or fire,
He sat
there on Christmas Eve, hating the writers,
Glaring at
his computer with a pissy Nick pout
As he
scrolled through the updates that they had put out,
For he knew
every reader logged in to AC
Was busy
now, reading the newest Nick tragedy.
“And
they’re leaving reviews!” he gasped in a breath.
“Tomorrow
is Christmas, and they’re celebrating my death!”
Then he
chewed on his fingernails, nervously biting.
“I MUST
find a way to keep these girls from writing!”
For after
the holidays, all the writers and readers
Would log
back online as their fic alter egos,
Then the
fans, sane or not, would click on the stories,
And they’d
read! And they’d read!
And they’d
READ! READ! READ!
READ!
They would
start with Most Recent and then the Top Tens,
Which all
featured Nick, from beginning to end.
And then
they’d do something to honor the writers:
Every fan
on AC, both clique and outsider,
Would
submit nominations, without much promoting.
Then they’d
click on a poll, and the fans would start voting!
They’d vote!
And they’d vote!
AND they’d
VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!
VOTE!
And the
more Nick thought of the Felix Awards,
The more
Nick thought, I must stop this whole board!
Why, for five to eight years, I’ve put up with it now!
I MUST stop Absolute Chaos… but HOW?
Then he got
an idea!
An awful
idea!
NICK CARTER
GOT A
WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
“I know
just what to do!” Nick laughed in his throat.
And he made
a quick Santa Claus hat and a coat.
And he
chuckled and clucked, “What an epic Nick trick!
“With this
coat and this hat, I’ll look just like Saint Nick!”
“All I need
is a reindeer…”
Nick looked around.
But since
reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found.
Did that
stop Nick…?
No! Nick simply said,
“If I can’t
find a reindeer, I’ll fly commercial instead!”
So he
called his travel agent and booked a flight,
A red-eye
to Pennsylvania which left that night.
Then he
packed his bags and kissed Lauren goodbye,
And he
drove to the airport, ready to fly.
Nick
thought, Please,
God, as the
plane took off fast,
Please don’t let them jinx me.
Please don’t let us crash!
When the
plane landed safely, he sighed with relief
And set off
for the home of the Fan Fiction Queen.
When he
came to her apartment, her fan fiction lair,
All her
windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the
air.
“This is
stop number one,” Saint Nickolas hissed,
And he
climbed the steps, managing not to trip.
Then he
slid open a window, which was thankfully unlocked,
Since there
was no chimney to slide down like Claus.
He hoisted
himself in, a rather tight squeeze,
But he
hadn’t lost near sixty pounds for nothing!
He got
stuck only once, for a moment or two,
Then he
lowered himself into her spare bedroom,
Where her
desk sat deserted, screensaver aglow.
“This
computer,” he smirked, “is the first thing to go!”
Then he
fumbled and fought with the tangle of cords
Around the
desk as he unplugged each port.
The
keyboard! The printer! The monitor!
The mouse!
Flash
drive! Internet! Speakers for sound!
He left a
big mess, like a regular looter,
But Nick
was only interested in the computer.
He picked
up the PC, and he started to go,
When he
heard a harsh sound, like the caw of a crow.
He turned
around fast, and he saw her… Who?
Miss Mare-y
Sue Who, who was about thirty-two.
Nick had
been caught by this AC moderator,
Who’d got
out of bed sooner, rather than later,
To go
grocery shopping before the sun rose
With all of
the eighty- and ninety-year-olds.
She stared
at Nick and said, “Nick Carter? Why?
“Why are
you here, dressed like Santa Claus?
WHY?”
But you
know that Nick Carter is charming and slick.
He thought
up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
“Yo, honey,
wassup?” the fake playa lied.
“I was just
in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.
“See, I’ve
been reading the stories on your website online,
And I
wanted to meet you, the site’s mastermind.”
“That’s
Chaos,” said Mare, “or Ash, as he’s called.”
“Or Julilly
– she really calls all the shots.
“I’m only a
mod; I just keep the peace.
“Writing is
really where I feel at ease.”
“Writing…”
said Nick. “Oh, yeah, yeah, that’s
right.
“I think I
read one of your stories one time.”
He smirked
at Mare and narrowed his eyes.
“You made
Brian carve into my skin the word MINE.”
Mare’s eyes
grew wide; her face turned white.
She took a
step backwards, into the light.
“I didn’t
mean anything by it,” she said.
“It’s only
fan fiction. Don’t hurt me,” she begged.
Nick
emerged from the shadows, unstrapping his belt.
He whipped
her once, leaving a welt.
But that
wasn’t enough for what she had done,
Even if it was fiction, even for fun!
“You fans
like to torture and maim me for sport?
“Now
murder’s my new hobby,” came Nick’s retort.
“Wait! I don’t actually kill you!” cried Mare,
But it was
too late, for Nick didn’t care.
He was
already in too deep over his head.
He couldn’t
stop now, not until Mare was dead.
He stalked
towards her with the belt in his hands,
Ready to
slay her like the other fans.
“Now don’t
you dare scream or cry out or call,”
he warned
as he backed her up against the wall.
But Mare
wasn’t going down without a fight.
She threw
back her head and shrieked with all her might.
Nick
silenced her scream with a fist to her face.
If the
neighbors had heard her, they’d still be too late.
This girl
would be dead by the time she was found,
Nick
assured himself as he spun her around.
Mare cried
out in pain as he started to poke her,
Slipping
the belt ‘round her neck like a choker,
And that’s
what it became, quite literally,
As he
tightened the belt until she couldn’t breathe.
Mare
struggled and squirmed, as he strangled her slowly,
But Nick
blocked her kicks like a superstar goalie,
Till
finally she fainted, went limp in his arms,
Unconscious
now, but not yet fatally harmed.
Into the
bedroom, he dragged her, half-dead,
And belted
her limbs to the posts of her bed.
He sat by
and waited, until she came to;
Then he
smirked as he thought of what he’d make her do.
“You fan
fiction writers are all just the same.
“You make
me your puppet, your play thing, your game.
“But not
anymore. You see, this is my story,
“And it’s a
true horror tale, bloody and gory.
“And guess
what? I get to decide how it ends,”
He said, as
he forced a knife into her hands.
“What’s
this for?” she asked, looking down at the blade.
Her voice
shook, as tears and snot dripped down her face.
“Wh-Wh-Wh-What
is it you want me to do?”
But Nick
had a feeling she already knew.
“I want you
to act out that part from your fic,
“When Brian
cuts ‘MINE, MINE, MINE’ all over Nick.
“You get to
play both roles – now how cool is that?
“First you
can be Frick; then you get to be Frack.
“Cut into
your skin with the blade of the knife
And carve
these three words: VENGEANCE IS MINE.”
“No…
please, no,” Mare begged, shaking her head.
“Please
don’t make me do it. I’d rather be
dead.”
“You better
do it, or I’ll use the knife
“To cut off
each finger that you
used to type
“That
twisted, sick story about me and Brian,”
Nick
threatened, and Mare knew that he wasn’t lyin’.
He gave her
no choice but to follow his whim.
She winced
as she dug the knife into her skin.
He watched
the prescribed letters slowly take shape,
As drips of
her blood trickled down the sharp blade.
When the
pain grew too much, she passed out again,
Leaving
Nick to admire her mutilated skin.
“Vengeance
is mine,” he whispered the phrase,
Which the
poor fanfic writer would wear to her grave.
Vengeance
achieved, it was Nick’s time to go,
But not
before slitting the fanfic queen’s throat.
Once Mare-y
Sue Who had bled out and died,
He wrapped
up her body and dragged it outside.
The last
thing he did was dump her remains
Into the
dumpster, taking great pains
To cover
his tracks, so he couldn’t be caught.
But who would suspect a Backstreet Boy? he thought.
It was
quarter past dawn… all the fans, still asleep,
When he
booked a hotel and entered his suite.
He should
have been tired, but he was wide awake,
Revitalized
by the revenge he did take.
He got out
his laptop and turned on the PC,
Hooked up
the net and logged on to AC.
“Fuck you,
fanfic writers!” he crowed with delight.
“You’re
nothing without your leader alive!
“Who will
you cry to when the server crashes?
“Where will
you post all your angst-fests and slashes?
“Without
Mare, AC will go down in ashes!”
“That’s a
sight,” smirked Nick, “that I simply must see!”
So he
waited and waited, refreshing AC.
And he did
see some changes appear on the site:
New stories
appearing left and right!
“What the
fuck?” cried Nick. “How can they be
writing?
“I killed
off their leader! That can’t be
inspiring!”
But the
fans on AC, the “special” and the sane,
Were
writing and reading each other’s updates!
He HADN’T
stopped fangirls from writing! THEY
WROTE!
They wrote
without Mare; they wrote even so!
And Nick,
with his big feet in Turtle slippers,
Sat
puzzling and puzzling: “What’s wrong
with these girls?
“They kill
off their idols! They make us all gay!
“They write
without agents, book deals, or pay!”
And he
puzzled three hours, ‘till his puzzler was sore.
Then Nick
thought of something he hadn’t before!
“Maybe
fanfic,” he thought, “isn’t so mysterious.
“Maybe
fanfic just isn’t supposed to be serious.”
And what
happened then? Well, in the fandom, they
say
That Nick
Carter’s heart grew three sizes that day
Due to
cardiomyopathy, brought on by drugs.
If only his
parents had given him more hugs!
…ARE YOU
FUCKING KIDDING ME….?!
Nick
scowled as he read this latest synopsis.
He decided
the author would be next on his hit list.
So many
more to kill... he was only on six!
And on that
pleasant note… Merry Christmas!
***