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Shippers: Rise of the Sues

Chapter One: Night of the Shippers



"It started three weeks ago," she snapped the tip off of a stick of pocky with her teeth, staring towards the ground as she recounted the tale.

The air was cold, soft streams of light penetrating the windows to illuminate the littered garage. Boxes of food lay scattered across the cement floor, the temporary shelter having served its purpose.

"I can safely say I didn't see this coming," she glanced up, the stick of pocky hanging idly from her mouth.

An eerie silence flooded the streets outside the garage, the leaves of the nearby trees swaying gently as the wind touched upon them.

"Seriously, I don't think anyone did. I mean, zombie attacks? Maybe. Ninja assault in the dead of night? Could happen. Robot revolution? Likely. But..."

The second survivor placed her hand softly on the window, gazing out to survey their surroundings.

"Suefic author uprising?" her shoulders rose as her eyes went wide, a look of frustration filling her face. "Who saw that coming? Seriously!?"

"Kimchi," Isaia whispered cautiously to her partner.

"Hold on," she nodded towards the humming camera as she glanced back. "What's up?"

"I think it's clear; we should try to get out of here."

"Ah, right. Alright, let me just..." she stood up quickly, leaning in towards the camera to switch it off. Her hands shied away as she looked towards the lens. "So yeah, if you find this, we kind of hid in your garage to get away from a bunch of Kataangers. Sorry for eating all your food," she nodded as she shut the camera off.

"What if they're hiding?" Isaia glanced out the window again nervously, unsure as to whether the silence could be trusted.

"Then we run and find another garage. One with frosted mini-wheats, this time," Kimchi hoped as she crouched, her hand wrapping around the garage door handle.

"They're that important?" she lowered her body, getting ready to run in the event of a shipper attack.

"They're part of a well balanced breakfast," she lifted her legs as she explained, throwing the garage door open.

The two rushed out of the garage quickly, searching frantically from side to side to inspect for danger.

To describe the uprising as "sudden" would do no justice to the speed at which the suefic authors spread.

Isaia tread carefully, slowing as she continued scouting for potential threats. Her long sleeve brown shirt hung lightly over a white t-shirt, her skirt stained with the dust of the garage. Beneath her arm was a sketchbook, a pencil hidden within the binding rings.

The governments scrambled to assess the danger, working quickly to determine the cause and nature of the threat. Their delayed actions rendered them helpless as the suefic authors ravaged their capitols, spreading their infection.

Kimchi remained beside her friend, a pair of jeans beneath her horizontally striped shirt. A pair of sunglasses concealed her eyes, a crossbow strapped to her back.

The few news organizations that remained delivered reports of large unidentified ships nearing the shores of the various countries, their decks bustling with infected life. On the hull of each ship words were painted in the blood of innocents.

"Kataang."

"Zutara."

Other ships had been reported, the writing on their sides yet to be identified. These two stood out amongst the others, the terror of the sight rendering the witnesses nearly catatonic.

The two continued along, the silence inspiring within them a fearful paranoia.

Some scientists had survived the initial phase of the uprising. Their hurried efforts brought certain facts to light; the suefic authors rarely resorted to killing, instead attempting to turn their victims to support their beliefs.

Isaia came to a halt, her hand rising to her mouth in shock as she stared out over the long street.

All it took to be turned to their ravenous cause was one bite. Any body fluid transferred from an infected to a host resulted in almost immediate conversion. The world stared in terror at this fact.

Evacuated cars littered the road, some lying in twisted wrecks as blood stained the ground.

Some called it judgment day.

"C'mon," Kimchi stared nervously, pushing herself forward.

The suefic authors took out the internet as soon as they could, the constant disapproval of their fanfictions fueling their blind rage. Those who had theories and strategies to defeat them had been separated by this, scattered.

Glass crunched beneath their feet as they continued along the street, forcing themselves not to turn their attention towards the dead. Moving quickly, they found themselves nearing an intersection.

The suefic authors' advantage would not last; the Avatar fans each taking independent action to unify, to combat the threat they had failed to foresee.

"I think they're all gone," she started as she neared the corner.

"Yeah," Isaia nodded in agreement, glancing behind them to ensure they hadn't been followed.

They turned the corner, a mob of Kataangers swarming the street with wide eyes and terrifying grins.

In unison, they all turned to face the two uninfected.

"...God damnit," Kimchi muttered as she reached back quickly for the crossbow.

"Oh em gee!" one of the Kataangers called out.

"Ell oh ell!" another tilted its head to the side forcefully as it began hobbling forward.

"Double-u tee eff ell oh ell?" another chimed loudly as it lifted its hands, stumbling towards the two.

Isaia lifted her notebook in front of her face, having no other means of protection as the hideous swarm advanced.

She fired the crossbow rapidly, her hand straining as she reloaded bolt after bolt. They retreated gradually, maintaining a steady attack. Sweat coated her brow as she became aware of the Kataanger's gain on them.

"What do we do!?" the artist yelled out.

"I don't know!"

Grinning wildly, one of the infected hurled himself forward towards the sketchbook wielding girl.

She closed her eyes as she screamed out, the notebook poised to ward off the attacker.

Nothing.

Opening her eyes, she glanced towards the attacker, only to witness a stranger's back.

Conor glared forward, the katana held tightly at his side as blood trailed it. The Kataanger lay on the ground in two distinct halves, still chanting abbreviations.

He wore a black long-sleeve shirt, two yellow stripes trailing down each sleeve. The center was unzipped, a pendant hanging idly over a white t-shirt. Jeans and sandals made up the rest of his attire.

Kimchi continued unloading bolts into the infected, still stepping back.

Conor stepped forward, lashing the blade out into the chest of another attacker before slicing at a third.

Regaining herself, Isaia stood poised as she searched for any possible implements of destruction.

"Behind you!" she called out to the newcomer as she loaded the crossbow again, slamming the butt of it into the face of another Kataanger.

His eyes went wide as he twisted back quickly, the katana cutting what had once been a harmless cosplayer in half.

"Isaia, what's your weapon?!" Kimchi kicked another in the chest, firing into its head as it reeled back.

"...Art!" she called out as she tightened her grip on the notebook and pencil, her face taking on a visible determination.

"Use it!"

She placed the pencil to an open page carefully, concentrating intensely as another suefic author approached, eyes white with non-canon fury. Her hand moved softly, a line appearing on the paper just before she lifted it, stabbing the Kataanger in the eye.

Conor and Kimchi stared, the irony of the situation overpowering. Their admiration was broken by the continuous attacks of the mob, the group tearing through them fearfully.

Within ten minutes the Kataanger patrol lay before them, their bodies as ravaged as their minds. The group panted as they attempted to catch their breath.

"That was fun," he sheathed the katana as he made a vain attempt to break the ice.

"Who are you?" Isaia brushed some hair from her face as she looked towards him, the intensity of the fight having prevented her from studying the newcomer.

"Conor," he nodded in greeting, smiling towards the girl.

"Thanks for the help," Kimchi called back to him as she pulled an arrow from the chest of an infected, inspecting for the possibility of being able to re-use it.

"...What's that?" he glanced towards the instrument suspiciously.

"What, this? It's a crossbow." The explanation was given simply, the tone conveying a slight curiosity as to what the confusion was about.

"A crossbow?"

"A crossbow."

"Not, I don't know...A gun? Something a little, y'know, useful?"

"You're carrying a katana. A freaking katana," an eyebrow raised, perplexed at his fascination with the matter.

"Yeah, but that's a little more logical than a crossbow."

"Are you kidding me?! I've got silver tipped arrows!" The arrows were not so much silver tipped as their tips had been painted silver, using spray paint found in the garage they had occupied earlier.

"Sil...What do you think we're fighting, freakin' werewolves?!" he exclaimed as he examined one of the bolts.

"We could be!"

"That's stupid."

"Oh yeah, it's stupid now, but who's going to be the one crying when a werewolf bites one of the suefic authors? Me though, I'll be prepared!"

"That's ridiculous!"

"You're ridiculous!"

"Um...I don't think this is the time for this," Isaia noted from the sidelines, peering down the street in worry of a second wave.

"Right," Kimchi nodded, convinced that she had put Conor in his place.

"Right," Conor nodded, convinced that he had put Kimchi in her place.

"Where are you headed?" Isaia asked him curiously, wiping the blood from her pencil.

"I was just kind of wandering," he shrugged. "Figured I'd bump into other survivors."

"Might as well stick together then," Kimchi thought aloud. "We've got better chances of making it as a group."

"Where are you going?" he asked as he folded his arms.

"We're searching for anyone from the Avatar community," Isaia began the explanation. "We figure that between all of us, we'll be able to figure out what to do. We're hoping to find the author of Avatarsues or Booter Freak."

"They probably went after them first," he guessed out loud, hoping to be wrong on both counts.

"You know about the Avatar community?" Kimchi's eyebrow rose.

Lifting his fist, he pointed a thumb towards himself. "Fanfiction writer."

"Arist," she lifted a hand.

"Arist," Isaia nodded. "I try to write, too..."

"Renaissance woman," he smiled.

She smiled, flattered by the compliment.

"Alright. Let's get going; we shouldn't stay in one place for too long," Kimchi looked out over the street.

"Right," Isaia nodded as she wiped a bit of blood from her glasses.

Stepping down the street, he began peering into the window of each car. He motioned an arm towards the pair, calling them towards him.

"The keys still there?" She leaned in towards the driver side window of the mini-van, grinning as she spotted them in the ignition. Something had finally turned in their favor.

"I'll drive," he grinned as he reared the sheathed katana back, slamming it into the window to gain access to the vehicle.

The two girls lifted their hands, shying back as glass rained down upon the pavement. Kimchi narrowed her eyes towards him.

He grinned at the skillful improvisation, brushing some glass off of the back of his hand. "What?"

"It was unlocked," she explained with agitation.

"Wait, what?" Turning quickly towards the lock, his face took on an expression of amused fascination. "Huh. Shit."

"Shotgun," Kimchi muttered as she made her way to the opposite side of the vehicle.

"Don't you mean 'crossbow'?" he brushed some glass off of the driver's seat as he sat down.

"You're just jealous that my weapon's cooler," she opened the door quickly, setting the instrument down between the two seats.

Isaia climbed in behind them, making herself comfortable as she rested her sketchbook in her lap.

"I have a katana. Nothing's cooler than a katana," Conor protested as he adjusted the mirrors.

"Silver tipped arrows are cooler."

"You spray panted them."

"Yeah? Well what's your katana coated in?"

"Canon."

"What?"

"Canon, it's coated in canon."

"You can do that?" Isaia tilted her head as she studied the sheathed weapon.

"No, you can't coat something in canon!"

"I did."

"How?!"

"Trade secret," he grinned as he fastened his seatbelt. The trade secret was that he had set the katana down on a couch, forcing it to watch all twenty episodes of the first season. The katana, being an inanimate object, did little to protest.

Conor smiled as the engine turned over, setting the car into drive.

"Where should we go first?" Isaia asked quietly as she looked out the window.

"Taco Bell," Kimchi nodded.

"Gross," the driver noted. "Burger King."

"I don't eat meat," she protested.

"So take it off the bun."

"Ew, no! Then there's meat juice in the bun!"

"Meat juice?"

"Meat juice."

"Look, most of society's been ravaged by suefic authors. Any restaurant we go to, the clerks're probably all dead or worse; slash authors. We're going to be making the food ourselves, so what's it matter?"

"Name one thing from Burger King that doesn't have meat."

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on the road. "...Their...Salads?"

"Those have pieces of chicken in them."

"Fine, their..." his voice trailed off as he searched for any product free of meat.

"We're eating at Taco Bell."

"Damnit," he muttered as his frame relaxed into the seat.

Isaia sat behind them, smiling softly as she brought her pencil to the paper. For the first time in nearly a month, she had been given a scene she was happy to draw.