• Published 4th Aug 2014
  • 2,794 Views, 133 Comments

Blood - Terrasora

Vinyl Scratch and Lyra Heartstrings investigate supernatural happenings in Canterlot.

  • ...

The Police Station

Burgers was, as per usual, filled to capacity. A deep mumbling filled the room, punctuated by the occasional outburst of laughter. Two fans stood on either end of the room, fighting a losing battle against the combined forces of summer and the heat radiating from the kitchen. The sun had already set over Canterlot, but it was sweltering within Burgers.

The restaurant, though calling it so is a bit of a stretch, was nestled in the heart of Canterlot, surrounded by towering hotels and what a few of the more uptight upper-class had dubbed “real” restaurants, by which they meant that everything was over-priced and a waiter stood nearby, brushing away the crumbs that inevitably fell from the patrons’ chops. Burgers, by comparison, had two waitresses total and a metal box of napkins that, more times than not, had no napkins whatsoever.

And yet, Burgers, named after the faded, chipped sign that stood atop its red roof, was thriving. Indeed, it had become something of a legend, a testament to hard work in the middle of a city ostensibly run by a class of elites. A large portion of Burgers’ customer base had come simply because of this reputation and had spent a large portion of their time their trying to order a salad before realizing that Burgers specialized in one particular kind of food:


Vinyl Scratch, unlike some of the other patrons, reveled in the unhealthiness, hands a blur as she shifted from hamburger to french fry to onion ring and back again. Lyra Heartstrings sat across from her, absentmindedly sipping a small milkshake.

The two were, admittedly, a mismatched pair. Lyra rested an elbow against the table, gazing through a nearby window with the air of someone lost in their own thoughts. She wore an immaculate green vest over a white and equally well-kept dress shirt. Her hair, a green just a shade lighter than her vest with a white strip curling just over her ear, was neatly maintained and covered her face slightly.

Vinyl Scratch, for her part, was slouched over the table, the sleeves of her white jacket rolled up to her elbows. She wore a rather revealing top, bearing essentially everything but her breasts. A necklace bearing a small, golden pendant in the shape of bridged eighth notes hung just under her collarbone and pair of purple sunglasses rested on her forehead.

They sat in silence, an inconsistency in the otherwise noisy restaurant. Indeed, neither Lyra nor Vinyl had said a word to one another after entering Burgers, breaking their silence only to place their orders.

Lyra set aside her drink, turning away from the window. “ Sun’s setting. We should leave soon.”

Vinyl thumped a fist against her chest, trying to get down her mouthful of burger. “We just got here!”

“I told you to order something light.”

“Yeah, and I did!”

Lyra arched an eyebrow, surveying the remnants of Vinyl’s meal before shifting her gaze to the glutton.

“Not my fault we have different standards.”

“I’ll pay,” said Lyra, smoothly sliding out of the booth. “I’ll ask for a doggy bag.”

Vinyl pouted, shoving a few french fries into her mouth as Lyra approached the counter. True to her word, Lyra returned after a few moments, armed with a black plastic box and a paper bag. Vinyl shifted her food into the box, grumbling all the while. “What’s the point of going out to eat if you don’t even finish your meal?”

“You’ll finish it later, Vinyl.”

Vinyl held her bag tightly, cradling it again against her as they exited the restaurant. “Yeah, but it’ll be cold.”

“Heat it up.”

“It’s not the same!”

Lyra shrugged, leading the way through Canterlot’s winding roads. “Not much of a difference anyway.”

Vinyl gasped, recoiling from her companion. “Have you no shame, Lyra Heartstrings?”

“Well, considering that I’m actually wearing clothes.”

The pair turned into an alley, the tall buildings that lined it blocking the freshly risen moon.

“Lyra?” asked Vinyl, glancing around warily.

“Yes, Vinyl?”

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“Uhhhh.” Lyra stopped walking. “I’m… pretty sure?”

“Awesome. Let’s walk a bit faster, yeah?”

The two picked up their pace, their footsteps echoing on the alley’s walls.

A shadow turned into the other end of the alley, walking towards the two woman. Lyra and Vinyl exchanged a glance, turning on their heels and hurrying down the alley. Another figure stepped out, blocking that end and trapping the pair. Something metallic flashed in the shadow’s hand.

“Lyra,” said Vinyl nervously.

“Stay close, Vinyl.”

The two figures approached, growing clearer as the women’s eyes grew used to the dark. Both of the shadows were male, perhaps a bit larger than normal and dressed in dark clothes. Ski masks covered their faces and their gloved hands tightly clutched long, serrated knives.

In the middle of the alley, the women drew closer, pressing their backs against one another.

Lyra,” repeated Vinyl.

Lyra gulped, her mouth too dry to speak properly.

The figures drew closer. They were just outside of arm’s length.

“Now, Vinyl.”

Lyra and Vinyl broke apart, diving towards the shadowy figures. Lyra reached hers first, wrapping a hand around the side of his head and slamming it against the alley’s wall. The man went limp, falling to the ground and dropping his knife. Lyra kicked it away for good measure, keeping a close eye on the would-be assailant. He stayed on the ground.

“Vinyl?” called Lyra. “Are you alright?”

Vinyl walked out of the shadows, tossing a knife from hand to hand. “Nah, he chopped off my head.”

Lyra ignored her, bending down and stripping away the figure’s ski mask.

“I got better,” Vinyl continued. “Thanks for asking.”

“Hand me that knife,” said Lyra, forcing open one of the man’s eyes.

Vinyl huffed in annoyance, extending the knife handle-first. “You used to be fun.”

Lyra took the knife. “Guess I just got used to it.” She pressed the blade against the man’s arm, pulling it away when the first beads of blood appeared. Lyra pressed a finger against the wound, then brought that finger to her mouth. She shivered slightly. “Human.”

Vinyl sighed. “Then I guess we keep looking. What do you want to do with these two?”

Lyra thought for a moment, reaching into her pocket and extracting a lime green band-aid. She placed the band-aid over the man’s wound before getting to her feet. “Turn them in, if we can. There’s a police station about two kilometers from here.”

Vinyl nodded, walking deeper into the alley and returning a few moments later, an unconscious body slung over her shoulder.

“Leave the other knife on the body, might work as evidence.” Lyra wiped the knife she and Vinyl had held on the cuff of her pants, then dropped it onto the ground. She stomped once, shattering the blade and handle before kicking the pieces aside. Then Lyra hefted the other unconscious man. “Now we head to the station. Try not to be too conspicuous.”

“Yeah,” scoffed Vinyl. “Just two girls lugging around unconscious men, no biggie.”

“Good point. We’ll take the alternate route.”

“Rooftops?” asked Vinyl hopefully.




“Rooftops are awesome,” said Vinyl happily, looking over the edge of the building. “Feels like I’m a superhero. Just, you know, one of the ones that can’t really do anything.”

“Be quiet, Vinyl.”

“No, but seriously! Detectives and archers and stuff are cool and everything, but you can’t really say that they’d be able to take a superhero with powers in a—”

Lyra took hold of Vinyl’s jacket, tugging on it sharply. Vinyl let out a stifled cry, falling onto her back.

“Now’s not the time,” scolded Lyra, her eyes fixed on the police station entrance. An officer had just emerged, nearly tripping over the two unconscious presents Vinyl and Lyra had left them. “And it’s not the superpowers that make the superheroes, its the character,” she added in a harsh whisper.

The officer called something into the station. More officers joined the first and, together, they dragged the two men inside.

“Yeah, but powers help,” said Vinyl, oblivious to what had occurred on the other side of the street.

Lyra let out a sigh, stretching slightly when she felt that the coast was clear. “I’m not saying that they don’t, they just don’t guarantee victory.”

“Yeah, but they help.”

“You can’t just repeat the same thing and call it an argument.”

“Yeah, but it helps.”

Lyra arched an eyebrow, throwing an annoyed look at Vinyl. Vinyl gave a cheeky smirk.

“In any case,” continued Lyra, “the night isn’t over yet. We’ll continue the search.”

“Aye, aye, boss.” Vinyl gave a loose salute. “Where’re we checking next?”

“I’ve no idea.”

Lyra set off across the rooftop, heading away from the police station. Vinyl followed, some sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue.

The sound of gunshots ripped through the night. Three loud bangs in quick succession, coming from the police station.

Vinyl and Lyra spun around, running back across the building, stopping just at the edge. More gunshots sounded, this time followed by the sound of breaking glass. A body fell from the station’s highest floor, screaming with all its might.

Vinyl shut her eyes.


The metallic, tangy smell of blood floated up from the street.

Lyra rolled back her shirt sleeves, taking a few steps away from the roof’s edge. “Vinyl, I want you to keep a close eye on the exits. Follow anyone that gets out.”

“Lyra, what are you—”

Lyra took a running start, leaping from the roof and through the station’s broken window. She rolled to a stop, crouching low to the ground and looking around the room. Hardwood floor, white walls, desks and paintings; she’d rolled into the prototypical office space.

And right onto a pool of blood. Her forearm and the lower parts of her dress pants were covered by it and the strong smell of blood permeated the entire room. Lyra wiped a finger over the blood on her arm and brought it to her lips. Overly sweet, with a terribly bitter aftertaste.

A vampire’s blood.

Lyra slowly got out of her crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet, lithe as a cat as she made her way through the room. She stopped at a wooden door with a frosted glass window built into it and, crouching below the window, placed her ear against the door.

No gunshots. No sounds of conflict.

Shit, thought Lyra.

The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, leading into a narrow hallway. Blood splattered the walls here, covering a corkboard with some notes pinned to it. Lyra stepped out into the hallway, flipping a mental coin and turning right. She crept up the hall, listening at each door before moving onto the next.

Eventually, Lyra reached the end of the hallway. The final door was a supply closet of some sort, lacking a frosted window. Lyra pressed her ear against the door, holding her breath slightly.

A thin, steady breathing came from inside the supply closet. Each breath was shallow, but there was definitely someone in there.

Lyra braced herself, crouching against the wall as she took hold of the handle. She flung the door open.


A gunshot rang out from within the closet, a shot which would have pierced through Lyra’s forehead if she’d stood in front of the door. Crouched as she was, however, the bullet flew high over Lyra’s head. She lashed out, knocking the gun away with one hand and grabbing the shooter’s throat with the other.

Lyra noticed two things in that brief moment. The first was the shooter: a woman with black hair, wearing a grey blazer and a pink bowtie. The second was that the woman’s neck was covered in blood, courtesy of two puncture wounds. Lyra’s fingers were currently covered in blood.

“Shit,” said Lyra.

The woman’s eyes were wide-opened, her purple irises doused in fear.

“It’s okay.” Lyra let go of the woman’s throat. “I’m here to help. I won’t hurt you.”

“Lyra!” Vinyl’s voice came floating in from the first room. A few moments later, Vinyl herself came running into the hallway.

“Vinyl! I told you to stay outside and watch the exits!”

“It’s too late for that!” Vinyl stopped just beside Lyra. “The cops are rounding the corner; someone must have called in and—” She caught sight of the woman “—Oh, shit.”

“Alright, Vinyl, I’ll need your help to carry Miss…” Lyra turned to the woman. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

The woman went bleary-eyed briefly. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly, then she collapsed.

“Fantastic,” muttered Lyra.

“Oh, shit, she’s turning, isn’t she?”

“Yes, Vinyl.”

“Ohhhhh, shit!”

“Yes, Vinyl, I heard you the first two times!” Lyra hefted the woman over her shoulder. “Lead the way out.”

“You know, she’s kinda hot if you get over the whole dyi—”

“Now is not the time, Vinyl!”

“I’m sorry, I get stupid under pressure! And slightly horn—”

“Find a fucking way out, Vinyl!”

“Okay, this way!” Vinyl threw open a door on the opposite side of the hallway, quickly crossing the room and breaking open the window. She could hear sirens in the distance. “Through here!”

Lyra nodded, awkwardly maneuvering both herself and the woman through the window. She managed it, however, dropping three stories without so much as a scratch. Vinyl followed suit.

The three of them fled into the Canterlot night.

Author's Note:

Vampires are cool. TaviScratch is cool. So I figure that Vampire TaviScratch has to be doubly cool, right? Maybe?

Oh, whatever. I'm only writing this story because the Megarexetera's art is fantastic and it's basically the only really good vampire TaviScratch pic that I could find and seriously, just look at that art! (Thought the blood spot on Vinyl's collarbone looks a bit like ketchup).

As with all of my stories, every comment will be read, appreciated, inverted so that the back is black and the letters are white, printed out on black paper, painted red on one side, and worn as one of those high-collar cape. Blah!