//------------------------------// // Resurrection // Story: The Girl with the Lyre Tattoo // by Dennis the Menace //------------------------------// Below the surface of the earth was the Seattle Metro, a public transit subway system that ran through King County. At that late hour of two in the morning, there sat only a naked woman on a bench in the dank, eerie underground station. Ashleigh Jackson sat up with a cry, her emerald eyes snapping open, her heart pounding in her heaving chest, sweating. Her head whirled around as panic began to set in, as she tried to gain an understanding on the world she was in and grasp her new, alien environment. Eventually, her breathing slowed. She relaxed. She sighed, leaning back in her seat, wiping her brow with her...hands? Questions ran through her mind. Where was she? And how did she get there? Her hands immediately shot to the top of her head. She frowned, feeling nothing but sun-kissed blonde hair. Where's mah hat? She reached over on the bench she sat on. "There you are," she cooed, picking up her cowboy hat and placing it back where it belonged. "Psst! Applejack!" She nearly jumped out of her skin, startled. She looked around, searching for the owner of the mysterious voice. She spotted a shock of rainbow-streaked locks and grinned. "Rainbow!" She tried standing, only to have her legs collapse beneath her as she quickly became accustomed with having a set of two legs compared to four. "Haha!" Rain Dash snickered, pointing at her. "You ate it!" "Shut yer trap, Rainbow." She looked up. A young girl with fuchsia eyes and rainbow locks greeted her with a confident smirk. "Need a hoof?" Ashleigh accepted it, pulling herself up slowly and steady as she held onto the girl, testing out her new legs, bending them and finding a set of joints much different than she was used to. "Hand," another voice chimed in. "Twilight!" Tara Sparks revealed herself from behind a pillar. Straight dark blue hair with a pink stripe, pale skin. She looked rather flustered, stumbling slightly, her movements less like walking and more like waddling. She groaned. "I don't know how anyone could walk in these." Ashleigh dusted herself off. "Where's Rarity?" Rene Gem strode up to the three with confidence and flair, her long, smooth, shapely legs moving with coordination and ease, her head held high. Fiona Shy trailed not too far behind, her wide blue eyes hidden behind her long pink hair. Diane Pie skipped along, her normally poofy, messy mane now straight. Together they all stood naked, necklaces inlaid with gems around their neck, serving as the Elements of Harmony. "Hello, darlings," Rene said. "Speak of the devil," Rain snickered. "Wow oh wow!" Diane exclaimed. "Echo!" Her voice replied from down the dark tunnel. "Echo!" "I don't think we're in Equestria anymore, girls," Ashleigh remarked. Rain smirked. "You think?" She admired her new appendages, running her hands over her body and giving her small breasts an experimental squeeze. "What the hay are these things?" "Help us out here, Twilight. Where is she? And where are we?" She closed her eyes, concentrating for a moment, her purple eyes glowing a moment. "She's here. Definitely," she nodded. "This place has no magic at all. Normally it'd take me a while to pick out a unicorn's magical frequency, but there's only one more besides mine and Rarity's." "So follow the trail?" "It's...weak," Tara admitted. "She probably hasn't used her magic." She frowned. "It's like this place is dampening our magic." Rene nodded. "I feel it too. Now I can't possibly sew!" "So follow the breadcrumbs, then," Ashleigh said. "Then it's settled. We find Lyra and get the heck outta Dodge." Fiona shivered, her teeth chattering audibly. "M-Maybe some clothes first?" "Shoot," Ashleigh muttered. "We don't even know our way around this...place." "There's tracks. So it must be a train station," the fashionista reasoned. "This place could use a little more color," Diane chirped. "Clothes first," Tara agreed. "Let's take the stairs." Lyra felt a cold shock. Her eyes fluttered, snapping open, realizing that she was engulfed in freezing waters. On one hand, she felt terrible. There was a gigantic bruise right below her left breast where her heart was that ached with each twist of her body. She was numb, stiff, and had a headache. On the other hand, she was certainly grateful that Gilda's bulletproof vest had saved her life. Her choice of words had been strange, asking her if she needed "protection" from the weather. Then she figured out what kind of protection she was talking about. Gilda didn't trust Chrysalis, but she didn't really had much of a choice, now did she? As it turned out, she was right. Something brushed up against her side. Lyra, unable to scream underwater, thrashed wildly before a firm grip on her wrist reminded her of who was next to her. "Gilda," she mouthed. The biker pointed up towards the surface. They broke the surface of the water with a huge gasp, before Gilda clamped her hand over Lyra's mouth, flicking her hawkish eyes upwards towards the pier from where they'd been tossed. They treaded water, listening for the sound of car doors slamming shut and a screech of wheels before swimming to shore. Lyra went first, grabbing a secure hold on the concrete edge and having Gilda push her up. She helped Gilda onto land. The gryphon ripped open her jacket, revealing what lay beneath: a bulletproof vest. In the spot directly over her heart, there was a flattened slug embedded in the Kevlar. Lyra, too, wore the same vest. Her 9mm round had caught her right in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. "That bitch tried to dump us!" Gilda sat down, trying to get her bearings. "Ruined my jacket too." "W-Where's Adrian?" Lyra's eyes widened. "I told him, I told him to run! H-He ran to the end, Gilda!" "Ugh, you've gotta be kidding me." "Gilda!" Lyra screamed, shaking her. "What if he's hurt?" "Yeah yeah, I'm moving." The gryphon tore off her jacket, muttering to herself as she dove back into the water. At least twenty feet below the surface, Adrian twisted his right shoulder. A stream of bubbles escaped his mouth as he screamed underwater, furiously kicking his legs and dragging his good arm through the water. That feeling in his chest tightened. He was going to drown. His vision began to go black around the edges. He blinked rapidly, clenching his eyes shut. They snapped open and widened when he saw a figure swimming towards him. Out of desperation he reached out wildly. He felt his savior grab his wrist and pull him up, wrapping an arm around his torso and dragging the both of them to the surface. They broke. He gasped, coughing and spitting and taking a lungful of glorious air. There was a crack of thunder. Rain poured from the sky, smacking the water. He slumped, craning his head to see who held him as they swam back to shore. "Y-You..." Gilda helped him grab onto land. Adrian pulled himself onto the ground with a grunt of exertion, weakly rolling over onto his back. She joined him, forcing him to his feet and throwing his good arm around her neck. "Adrian!" His head jerked and he looked up. His jaw dropped as he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. "What the...what the fu..." His face paled considerably, as if he'd seen a ghost. He was certain he was seeing ghosts, as at the moment, both Lyra and Gilda stood before him, their clothes soaking wet, looking no worse for wear other than a gash on the side of the biker's skull. "You got shot! I saw you both get shot!" Lyra parted the lapels of her jacket, but Gilda answered for her. "There's this thing called Kevlar, see—" "Shut up!" "Oh my god," Lyra whispered, grabbing his cheek. There were three small cuts from where he had been slapped for his insolence. He shoved her hand away. "What the hell is going on?!" "Listen, we need to go to the hospital—" Lyra started. Gilda cut her off. "Do you really want to explain how this kid got shot?" "Hello? Just took a bullet to the back!" "He is bleeding!" Lyra shouted. "Is anyone listening to me?" he yelled. She glanced at Adrian. "Take off the jacket." "What?" Gilda strode over, repeating herself. Adrian complied, wincing in pain. She touched his arm. "How do you feel?" "Like crap." "Little more specific?" "Feels like I took a sledgehammer to the shoulder." "You're in luck, kid." He didn't like the way she was talking to him. "Yeah?" "Just a graze." Adrian twisted his head, peering over his shoulder. There was a long, oozing gash that ran along the length of his shoulder blade. Lady Luck had been on his side that night. He had been leaning forward when he'd been shot. The bullet had barely missed its mark, skirting across the surface of his flesh and missing bone and muscle entirely. But still, this was no miniscule cut. It bled profusely, and looked like hell. "You're good to go." Gilda patted him on the shoulder, making him wince and shove her hand away. "What the hell is going on?" he muttered under his breath. Lyra touched his arm. "Adrian, I'll explain everything later, okay?" He shrugged her off. "I want answers." "Gimme your keys." "Why do you need my car?" Adrian asked. "Did you call the cops?" "Of course I called. The fucker broke my nose and I couldn't finish it—would anyone please just tell me what is going on?!" "Adrian, please," Lyra whispered. "I promise. I'll explain." "So," she started, "when this place becomes a crime scene, do you really want cops scratching their heads wondering what your piece-of-shit car is doing parked there?" "I'm not breaking the law!" he spat, pointing at himself. "This isn't my fault!" "It's nobody's fault," Lyra interjected. "We need to get going, just give her the keys." Adrian fished into his wet pockets, shivering, tossing her the keys. Gilda said, "Lyra, your flat." "What about it?" "You leave anything there? Anything that can help us?" "Just the case," Lyra answered. "Some guns and money. Passports and stuff." "My place is done for," Gilda groaned. "Can't believe I listened to her." "It's not your fault," Lyra said. "I knew she would pull something like this." She dismissed it with a toss of the hand. "Whatever. What's done is done. I didn't keep a stash, so we need that briefcase," Gilda ordered. "Where do you live?" "If you think I'm gonna tell you where my house is—" He stopped short. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was too much. Still, he counted his blessings and followed the two in silence, limping slightly. There were tiny cuts in all sorts of places on his body that the rain made sting. The gash on his arm was most pressing. The three slunk through the port, muscles tense and on edge. That Crystal woman and her goombahs were nowhere to be found. Adrian crouched down and picked up his smartphone, muttering a curse as he examined the screen. It had slid several feet, and the edges of the screen were scratched. Upon inspection, it still worked, but nonetheless he was irritated. "Can we hurry this up?" He slid into the passenger seat of Lyra's Camry, watching as Gilda unlocked his car. Lyra started the car and sped off with a lurch, his Accord trailing close behind. She turned on the heat and windshield wipers. His throat was hoarse. His body ached. He was cold, uncomfortable, and had a headache. He was not in the mood to talk, and it looked like Lyra wasn't either. He didn't mention how recklessly Lyra was driving, or ask any more questions, and closed his eyes. He drifted off into a state between sleep and consciousness, aware of the sounds of the rain pounding against the hood of the car and the subtle lurches as the car switched lanes and made turns. He heard the sound of the gears switching, and cracked an eye open. Lyra had pulled back into the lot of the high-rise and had run in quick. He shifted in his seat, aware that he was probably bleeding all over the upholstery, and closed his eyes, trying to get warm. Moments later Lyra came back, a duffel bag around her shoulders and a briefcase in hand, which she tossed into the backseat. "Got your clothes," Lyra said, short of breath. "Camera. Everything." He closed his eyes again, nodding. His head throbbed. When he opened them again, they were at his house. The cars were parked side by side on the driveway. The two of them helped him out of the car and unlocked the front door. He stumbled inside, weary and wet. From there, Lyra and Gilda began locking all of the windows and drawing the curtains shut. In the bathroom, Adrian slowly stripped himself down to nothing and turned on the shower with Lyra in the bathroom and Gilda standing in the door frame. There was a fine line between being a "man" and being stupid, but he himself didn't feel like having to explain anything to doctors or the police. He sat down shakily in the tub, feeling the numbness from his extremities begin to fade in the warmth of the hot water. The water stained with tinges of red as they washed his cuts down. There was an ugly purple splotch on his lower back, most likely from the fall into the water. "Get the rubbing alcohol in the cabinet," he ordered, shivering still. "And the roll of bandages and that bottle of pills, the orange one—no, no, not that one. One down. What does it say on it?" "It's says," Lyra read slowly, "hydrocodone." He instructed Lyra to open the bottle of rubbing alcohol and pour it over his shoulder. "Won't that hurt?" "Just do it," he said coldly. Lyra slowly tipped the bottle over the gash. Adrian clenched his jaw, biting the inside of his cheek and letting out a hiss as his gash stung in agony. He bit his lip and let out a string of subdued profanity under his breath. "That's enough," he said, standing up in the water. Now sufficiently warm, he toweled himself off, taking extra care around his cuts and dabbing them dry. "I need to do your cheek." It was superficial and only stung a little, and his nose had long stopped since flowing and would heal in time on its own. Still, he held still, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as Lyra soaked a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and gently dabbed it across his cheek. He refused to meet her gaze, and Lyra resigned herself to patching him up in silence. Meanwhile, he took the roll of bandages and wrapped it around his upper arm twice, securing it with a pin. Lyra placed a small Band-Aid on his cheek. Meanwhile, Gilda was making herself right at home. She'd stripped off her jacket and pants, toweling herself down with a borrowed cloth in his bedroom. She let out a hiss as she touched her sore breast. Adrian sat down on his bed, gesturing for Lyra to give him the bottle of Vicodin. He popped the cap off and shook a few white capsules into the palm of his hand. He swallowed one. "It says to take only one," Lyra reminded. Adrian ignored her and swallowed a second one, downing it with a plastic cup of water. He tilted his head back, his eyes scrunched up as he felt the effects of the medicine begin to take effect. "Mind if we use your shower?" Lyra asked. He waved his hand dismissively, rolling onto his back on his bed, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep. Adrian's bloodshot eyes snapped open. There were bags underneath his eyes. He shifted slightly underneath the warm covers of his bed, wincing as he felt a twinge of pain in his shoulder. Slowly he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Light streamed through his blinds, catching him in the eye. His throbbing head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. He remembered the day Lyra had called him, and felt an eerie sensation of déjà vu. Out of his Vicodin-induced coma, he twisted his head, quickly discovering that if he moved too quickly, he would amplify his headache. Adrian stumbled downstairs. His face felt oily and his hair messed up. He scratched at the scruff of his face, reminding himself to shave again. He turned into the kitchen. "You're awake." He stopped, his hands dropping to his side. Gilda and Lyra sat at the kitchen table, dressed in new clothes. Aside from some stitches on the side of the biker's skull, they both looked a-okay. There was a duffel bag set down on the floor next to the front door. His camera sat atop the coffee table. Adrian clenched his jaw, moving over to his Nikon, examining the device. He limped stiffly over to the cupboard and began rummaging around. "Are you okay?" "...Yeah." Fruit Loops? He wasn't particularly in the mood for cereal. Adrian stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you Gilda." The way he said it indicated that he was not pleased to make her acquaintance. It was low and firm. Gilda stuck her cigarette into her mouth and shook his hand. "Sup." "Adrian Ross." They nodded, not letting go, still shaking. He squeezed firmly. "You're Lyra's friend, yeah?" "You could say that," she mumbled. "You her dweeb boyfriend?" He flicked her eyes at Lyra, a questioning look. She had described him as her "boyfriend"? "You could say that." He snatched her smoking cigarette from her lips and quashed the flame in an ashtray. "Don't smoke in the house." Gilda smirked. Adrian then went back to the fridge and grabbed some orange juice and a glass for himself. Both sat in silence as he poured himself a glass. Then, "Adrian...," Lyra said softly. He slammed the carton on the counter top, angrily capping it and shutting the fridge door. He took a large refreshing gulp. "Can you just...please tell me what's going on?" "Maybe you should sit down." "I'm fine." "This is going to sound crazy. You're not going to believe me." "Talk," he said icily. They told him everything. Lyra started, haltingly, and Gilda spoke up to interject her own side of the story, and every so often Adrian would seek clarification. Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria, yadda talking ponies who could fly and cast magic spells, yadda, monstrous androgynous parasites called "changelings" that could take the form of anypony so that they could feed off of their emotions, the whole shebang. Lyra's real name was Lyra Heartstrings, and in a past life she had been a unicorn with mint-green hair and a matching coat and a lyre for a Cutie Mark, explaining the tattoo. Oh, and she didn't have amnesia. Gilda Griffin was—you guessed it, a gryphon. They told him how they'd been captured by Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, who used them as pawns as a part of some elaborate chessboard master plan to enter the human world. She'd been savvy enough to send one of her minions in advance to set the whole operation up. It explained everything: Lyra's expensive flat and expensive furnishings, her ten-thousand dollars, her fake passports, fake IDs, fake driver's licenses, her lack of a birth certificate. And the entire time, Adrian kept a completely straight face. There were the idle twitches of the lip, the looks of incredulity and disbelief when either of them said something so completely ridiculous and unbelievable that he couldn't help but wonder if it was all a bad dream or an overdose on hydrocodone. At some point he wondered what on God's green earth the two of them had been smoking, because whatever it was, he wanted some. "Why do they want to come here?" The answer he got was serious. "Duh. They want to feed off you!" Gilda said, as if it was the most obvious thing. "Regain their strength. They're probably integrating right now, masquerading as humans. Soon Chrissy will have enough power to bring her entire empire here." Here? To Earth? "Next step is probably to take over the world," she added. "How?" "Didn't you hear her? They can change at will into anything!" "Anyone?" "Anything! And anyone. Including you. Or me. Or Lyra." "The President?" "Makes sense," she shrugged. "She...she couldn't do that, right?" Adrian gulped. "That's impossible." "Anything is possible. Who knows what's going on in her head?" "She'd have to be crazy." Oh, right. He meant it as a joke. It scared him. The very concept of creatures that could take the shape of any creature that it wanted to and blend in seamlessly scared him, no, frightened him out of his wits. But what scared him the most was that Lyra and Gilda believed their little story. And he found himself believing it as well. There was no denying proof. But it was a struggle, coming to grips that there were other sentient creatures, other worlds, other universes out there and that interdimensional travel was possible. Adrian looked away. "Whatever." At last, when they finished their tale, he reached over and grabbed Lyra by the wrist. "C'mon, both of you, let's go." "What?" Lyra said. "I need to take you two to the hospital because you're OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND!" He wanted to deny, deny, deny. Most people would. It was like having everything you knew to be true in the world being chucked out of a window. And he denied it all. The sheer volume of his voice was enough to make both of them cringe. His face was red. Lyra thought she saw a bulging vein on his neck. She had never seen him like this. The entire time she'd been with him he'd always spoken to her in a calm, level tone. "I can't believe this! You tell me some—some bullshit, made-up fairy tale after I just took a bullet to the back!" "Graze," Gilda corrected. "Adrian, I'm not!" Lyra said. "You think this is a joke?!" "No—" "You think this is funny?! Because it's not! I'm not laughing!" He took a breath, glaring at Gilda, who had relit her doused cigarette. He roared, "And DON'T SMOKE IN THE HOUSE!" Adrian felt a pang in his heart as he saw Lyra slump and hang her head. He'd never raised her voice at her, never yelled at her like that. But he felt that he was justified in this case. It was the most insulting thing anybody had ever done to him, lying straight to his face. "This is nothing but the truth! I promise!" "Why are you here?" When she didn't understand he repeated himself. "Why you? Why are you, you, here?" Lyra bit her lip. "I was a...scout." She wrung her hands. "She, Chrysalis I mean, she sent me here to do some uh, reconnaissance and..." "Spy," Adrian finished for her humorlessly. Lyra wilted. "Yeah. To spy on you guys." "And that little journal of yours?" "It's like a dossier on humans," she admitted. "Humans for Dummies, huh." They all shared a small laugh. "Now there's no way it could be thorough enough for her to know everything about us." "It's not," Lyra replied. "I could have just copied and pasted Wikipedia. But she wanted pictures. I think she wanted me to scope out the area more than anything." "And Gilda?" "Motivation," the biker sneered. "So that Lyra didn't forget to do her job." "And when she said you seduced me?" he said coolly. There was a hard, vacant look in his eyes. He didn't have to look at her to let her know that he was addressing her. "What was that?" Lyra opened her mouth to answer, thinking of something to say that would justify it all. But she couldn't find the words. "W-What was that?" he repeated, his voice trembling. "Some sort o-of game to you? Just to mess with me?" Lyra shook her head. "No. She was lying." "So what, I was just some guy you used to learn about—about humans?" Adrian's voice was faltering. His voice cracked slightly, out of anger or frustration or despair. She was shaking her head more and more. "No. No." "Then tell me, what was it?" This was the wrong place and the wrong time to be discussing their relationship. Gilda, surprisingly, found the situation growing ever more hostile and unpleasant. Normally she would have relished such a confrontation, but this time there was no joy it in it. And at last when emotions were high, there was a chime. The doorbell rang. All three turned their head at the same times, wondering the same thing. Who could it be? Gilda moved first. She reached for the briefcase. Adrian stepped forward, slowly approaching the door, taking a peek through the peep. He saw six girls. He unlocked the door and opened it only slightly, enough so that he could stand in the frame. "And who the hell are you?" Adrian snapped, not at all in the mood. There was a blonde, two strawberry blondes, two black-haired girls (though one of them seemed to have a purplish tint to her hair and the other a pink stripe). The only one that truly stood out was the girl with all seven colors of the rainbow in her hair. Their eye colors ranged from reasonable to absurd. They all wore some mismatched wardrobe, random articles of clothing haphazardly thrown together. He thought he spied some of the tags still dangling off the clothes. All in all, a ridiculous sight, but Adrian was no longer fazed. "Okay, wow, rude. Ahem, my name is, uh, Tara Sparks, and I was wondering if you were having anypo—body in your house."