Jag hittade det! Historien är den här , med titeln Plot Armor , genom Patrick Stevens . Här är början och slutet på historien själv:
Jim, third-in-command of the Watchers, ducked behind the Warlord’s force-field, desperately trying to catch his breath in the face of an inexorable onslaught. His attackers, the hundred-strong members of the Hourglass Collective, had never been defeated in pitched battle. As testament to their ability, two thousand of the finest troops the Watchers had to offer stood motionless around him, suspended in time; even now, even with five of the most experienced Watchers still fighting, the Hourglass forces were calmly and efficiently slitting the throats of the frozen soldiers. Skilled in cultivating terror, they were working in from afar, and it looked to Jim as though he would have to endure another half-hour of helplessness before they got to him at last. Jim and the Warlord had only survived this far by virtue of an accidental and uncontrollable burst of power from the Founder of the Watchers, released at a fortuitous moment to counter the time-suspension channelled by the Hourglass. That had given the Warlord time to protect five people, before the Founder had collapsed.
[...]
“OK. This will be a shock to you both, Warlord, Jim, but we’re in a story. We’re fictional. This situation we’re in makes no sense at all. We had no backstory until I explicitly requested it, and it took a little while to come to us. And no-one seems to be capable of just saying something! Every time, we’re ordering, or clarifying, or reeling things off, but never saying! We are fictional, and our author is not particularly competent to boot. That gives us a way out of our conveniently dramatic Dire Straits.
“Author! We’re three of the most powerful members of the Watchers, and we’ve been the entire focus of this short story. There are no other plausible protagonists. You must find a way for us to survive, or else the story ends and you will have wasted all this time on another creative endeavour that came to nothing!”
The Hourglass were approaching faster now, provoked by Christine’s loud outburst. Only thirty feet away, then twenty, then ten.
The front runner drew a dagger, and slit Jim’s throat, then the Warlord’s, then Christine’s.