//------------------------------// // Change is Good // Story: ATC's Scrapbox // by AdmiralTigerclaw //------------------------------// The 'ponyfall' collaboration, while not the most well executed reverse HIE (EoE) stories in existence, do provide inspiration for scenerios of what-ifs for any decent writer. Since what-ifs are my bread and butter when it comes to writing. I figured I'd touch upon at least a fragment of the ponyfall style, The subject of this fragment (and if you guys like it, I could always expand.) is none other than her royal deceptiveness, Queen Chrysalis of the changelings. The plot device that causes this can be left up to imagination, but after that, we apply a little of my signature realism to the Ponyfall scenerio. When you find an unconscious, naked woman at random, what do you do? Obviously some crazy people think the answer is to take them home and bundle them up. Any intelligent person however, gets straight to work contacting the authorities and getting the unfortunate woman medical attention. Because she didn't just fall asleep in a ditch naked... (Are you people flippin' insane?) Other fun things to explore realistically... Is that no, you do not know who/what you actually have on your hands. Not right away, and certainly not in a manner you are going to believe right away either. If I found Chrysalis, I find it unlikely I would spot the connection, even with the hints staring me in the face. After all Chrysalis is not real. Why would I even THINK I had the possibility of having the real deal? “Go faster.” Where do I begin? “We’re not going any faster.” “But your ground machine is so fast! I want to see how fast it can really go.” “Christi, we’re on a back road, already above the speed limit. I’m not in the mood for splattering all over a tree or getting a ticket. The cops LOVE to lurk around corners.” I guess I’ll just start with right now. “But-“ “I said NO.” I was driving home, heavy one passenger. A young girl by the name of Christi. At least, we think her name is Christi. I was on my way home from class a week ago when it happened. I just happened to be glancing out the window after rounding a corner when something had flashed by. For a second, I thought nothing of it until I realized the shape I had seen looked a lot like a prone body. I know one thing; my anti-lock brakes do work as advertised. I hadn’t slammed on them that hard, EVER. It turned out to be a young woman. From the looks, battered, bruised, and then dumped and left for dead. I never thought I’d ever have to use the ‘Evaluate a Casualty’ section of my old IET handbook on anyone ever in my life... Luckily, while beat up, she was alive, and somewhat awake by the time I’d managed to get an emergency blanket out of my car and unwrapped. If you call rambling, incoherent, semi-delirious nonsense ‘awake’. I’d rushed her straight to Scott & White from there. I can evaluate a casualty, but I’m not a doctor. According to the doctors, she’d be fine. Aside from looking like she’d been struck face on by something large, she was mostly unhurt. However she seemed to have had a nasty concussion, and that made everything she told the doctors, and eventually the police when they showed up, sound like nonsense. When the doctors had finished questioning me, and the police combing the scene I’d shown them, they hadn’t found a thing. No identification, no clothing, no evidence of anything beyond a broken tree branch... And ‘SHE’ wasn’t helping with her delirious rants either. Claims of being queen, having to feed all her subjects, and cursing ‘them’, whoever they were for blasting her in the face with powerful ‘magic’... A serious concussion, most likely needing her to be on continuous watch. That’s what all involved decided on. I was allowed to FINALLY go home, after leaving the police and doctors my contact info in case they needed to question me on anything else. And that’s the last I heard of them. For about a week. Then the call came in around noon. ‘Christi’, that’s the name it seemed she was responding to the best, appeared to be doing well. Well enough that she could be discharged from the hospital. Her ranting had died down, her conversations fully lucid and logical. Problem is, she still could not give the doctors or police any meaningful forms of identification. No full names, no understanding of the term ‘ethnicity’, no next of kin, not even a blasted social security number. ‘Christi’ had no identity. And with no Identity, nobody could figure out anything to do. She couldn’t be kept in the hospital, and the police just aren’t set up to baby-sit someone like that. Guess what they decided to do? Oh yeah, you see where this is going. Since they knew from bringing her in that I could be more or less trusted with her, they’d somehow decided to ask if it would be possible if I could care for her. (Compensated for with food stamps. ...Damn they’re cheap. I might as well tell them I have plenty of money to handle it.) So before I let a long explanation get too long, I cautiously agreed to look after ‘Christi’... Or Chrysilla, or Christina, or whatever she was going to go by. Let me just say, I’ve been around her for thirty minutes on the drive home, and already she’s proven to be a combination of, naive to the point of it being cute, and obnoxious as hell. I mean, for Christsake... When we walked her into the parking lot, she freaked out at the sight of a truck parked nearby. Mainly the diesel engine it was revving. It took ten minutes just to coax her out of the building and into my car. But once she was in my car, it was... Well, it’s like she’d never seen a car before. “I’m ORDERING you to speed up,” her tone of voice suddenly shifted. I’m so glad I’d removed the passenger seat of my car to use as a flight simulation chair. It meant she was stuck sitting in the BACK seat, where she wouldn’t be RIGHT next to me acting bossy. “NOPE!” I snapped back at her. “I’m afraid the inside of this vehicle is the sovereign territory of the dictatorship of me, myself, and I. No other authorities are recognized within’ its boundaries. Have a nice day.” “PLEEEEEEASE?” She’d switched from aggressive to pleading almost as if she were going down a list. Of course, by this point, it was transparent. “HAH!” I couldn’t help but laugh at her reflection in my rear-view mirror. Her still-bruised features framed in unkempt hair that had a deep, pine-green dye applied to it. “Nice try. But you need to get it through your head. I’m NOT speeding up. It is DANGEROUS.” “UGH!” Christi crossed her arms with a huff. “Why does NO ONE listen to me here?” I scoffed, earning a scowl, but said nothing. Christi sat for a few minutes in silence as I drove the back road home. Before long, she started occupying herself with her hands. She seemed almost fascinated by them. I’d caught her staring at them with this odd perplexed look a few times already. She’d just sit there, frowning as she wiggled her fingers. Then she’d slowly, deliberately reach down to grab onto various things lying on the floor. More than once, she played with the handle to my electronics tackle box. At least twice, she became completely enthralled with rolling the window up and down. Luckily, she hadn’t seemed to realize or figure out the latches on the tackle box, or the button on the seat belt. Before long though, she became bored with the objects in the car and just sat, staring out as the scenery rolled by. At some point, it struck me that I hadn’t locked the doors. She hadn’t yet seemed to notice the door latch itself, but the very thought of her, in this strange naive state, trying to jump out of a moving vehicle... I immediately reached over and slapped my lock, which acted as a master to the entire power lock group. “What was that?!” she snapped in fear. FEAR! Can you believe it? “You’re leaning on the door,” I replied. “I’m just locking it so you don’t accidentally fall out.” Christi blinked at me confused for a moment, then glanced down. “I’m tied to this seat by this insane harness,” she pointed out. “Better safe than dead,” I shrugged back. We crossed the railroad track, 2243 coming to an abrupt end at 183. Christi appeared a bit unnerved at the sound and vibration, but started to relax after she made eye contact with me in the rear view mirror. I used the time spent at the light to watch her in the mirror. Again, it’s like she’d never seen anything even remotely modern before. There was no hiding the curious eye she gave as she watched the traffic pass in front of us. Nor the way she cringed back a bit when one of those happened to be an 18-wheeler barreling by at fifty miles per hour, just feet away. The draft off the vehicle was strong enough to shake my tiny car in place. Like I said, it was almost cute... It’s just she had this odd, almost caustic attitude about her when she wasn’t too busy being awed by everything that moved. The light went green, allowing me to cross the highway safely. I noticed that while we were just cruising, Christi was fine, but whenever we had stopped and started, she did become a bit apprehensive, grabbing the handle next to her. And she wanted me to go faster... HAH! Not on THOSE curves... “Where are you taking me?” she demanded at last, her eyes darting between the various buildings. “Home,” I replied. “The doctors and the police would like me to take care of you until they can get this mess sorted out. So you’ll be staying with me.” “Really?” she asked. “You’re going to take care of me? That’s... sweet of you.” Stop sign, left turn signal, clear left, clear right, clear left... Rolling. I could do this in my sleep. (Not that I would.) Something about the way she said that last part. I was a bit preoccupied driving, but my brain latched on to it. The tone in particular... It sounded so... scripted. Like every food service employee I’d ever known. I knew exactly two versions of that tone. Version One, the ‘I’d rather not be here and I’d like to call you SO many names right now, but can’t because I have to make ends meet.’ Tone. And... Version Two, the ‘If I butter you up, you’ll give me a big fat tip, right?’ tone. I distinctly picked up version two. Just the way she said that. After the way she’d been acting the last half an hour, it contrasted so hard compared to even her transparent little attempt at begging that I couldn’t help but not miss it. Part of me, the sinister, paranoid part, wondered if maybe her lying in the ditch, looking like something had just beaten the shit out of her, was without a perfectly reasonable cause. Not that I’d go so far as to speculate what actually happened. But the idea that maybe the way she was trying to be two-faced and for some reason, not quite concealing the fact at least put me partially on my mental gua- Right turn, almost missed it. -guard. After all, I had a felon convicted of fraud living across from me for three months. After having my trust bite me in the ass on that one, any unusual behaviors tipped me off. After another minute of driving, I parked my car in the driveway, killing the engine. “We’re here,” I chimed, moving to unbuckle and open the door. “This is your home?” Christi asked in surprise as I crawled out of my seat. “I thought you lived in a castle like that place we left...” “Castle?” I stuck my head back in the door. Now THAT one was just out there. “The Hospital?” “That was a hospital?” she blinked back. The tone seemed sincere. So much so that I was getting more of The Weird Vibes from her. “That place was HUGE!” “Yeah,” I stepped away. “Hospitals are like that... And my house is just a house. Come on.” I turned to shut the driver-side-door... “WAIT!” And stopped at the shout. “What?” I asked. “I’m still stuck in this harness!” Christi complained. Oh you’ve got to- she hasn’t figured that out YET? “Just push the button,” I replied back. “Button?” she asked. The young lady glanced around frantically. “Button?!” I wish I could say I’ve never met people this clueless before but... “Here,” I walked around to the other side of the car, opening the rear passenger door. “I got it.” I reached in, firmly grabbing the buckle where it stuck out of the seat and gave the brightly marked, easy to spot orange button a push. ‘Click!’ The shoulder harness snapped free, retracting up and away. Christi jumped in her spot as it moved. “Jeez,” I looked at where she’d grabbed my arm, her eyes locked on the harmless device. “Aren’t you jumpy?” It was almost funny. Even the way she looked at me, just for a moment, looking like a terrified animal before she tried to hide it. Her mood swings were unpredictable. One moment she was bossy, the next curious, then afraid, and then back to obnoxious and bossy. That concussion probably knocked a lot of screws loose... “It’s a seat belt,” I stated firmly. “It doesn’t bite. It’s designed to do that.” I felt like I was explaining the concept to a two-year-old, but couldn’t resist reassuring her as to the function and purpose of the device as I calmly reached over her shoulder and grabbed the harness. Pulling it and releasing it several times to show her that it did the same thing, every time. “See?” I asked. “Nothing here’s going to eat you. Now relax.” My arm was ‘returned to me’ after a moment, allowing me to back out and assist Christi in scrambling out of the vehicle. “Let’s get inside and get out of this heat,” I continued as she glanced around the neighborhood. I could already feel the sun baking me in my own clothes. It just never seemed to stay pleasant very long in Texas. It was either blistering, or winter. Or both... Yeah, I went there. Welcome to Texas, don’t like the weather? Wait a minute, it’ll change. About half way to the door I stopped, turning to Christi and she followed me, seeming to be unsure of something. It’s like she was afraid of something. Then a thought struck me. “Oh by the way,” I began. “We’ve got a dog here. He’s big, but more annoying than scary. So stay calm.”