"There's no such thing as fiction." you rasp to the tiny girl hiding under the smouldering seat next to yours, coughing out a lungful of smoke. Trying to be quiet. Trying to keep her calm. Trying to keep her attention on you. You can't stay here much longer, but you have to try and salvage something from this unholy clusterfuck. Somehow. Your report will be scathing - if you survive. Someone somewhere fucked up big time.
"All of reality consists of the same electron zipping back and forth, which is why when it..." you begin, but notice her eyes go glassy and slide away, back to the rest of the auditorium, and the horrors within. Not good. Come on, kid, focus on me. Not on... anything else.
You've got to stop being such a damn science nerd all the time. That part of your life is over.
Touching her wrist to recapture her attention, you start over. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Hi, I'm Nathalie. What's your name, honey?" you ask, and you have to strain to catch the hesitant, wobbly "L... L... Laura..."
You give the girl a reassuring smile. "Well, Laura. Imagine our universe as a sheet of paper... stacked together with a whole bunch of other sheets." Damn, the smoke is getting really thick. Hurry it up. "Now, if a drop of ink falls on one sheet, sometimes it can bleed through onto the ones below, staining and ruining them, right?"
The kid nods, rabbit-quick.
"That's what happened here." you explain, gesturing towards the front without thinking, where a giant god-damn dragon is still awkwardly struggling to completely free itself from the cramped confines of the shimmering screen. "Our universe knows what's supposed to be in it, but sometimes, if enough people believe in something... other things can get temporarily... misplaced. Bleed through."
And that's why the organisation you work for has long-standing, battle-tested protective systems to make sure something like this just doesn't happen. Not at mass scale, anyway. Sure, there are smaller outbreaks, when enough people are really swept up into a tale being told by a talented storyteller, or when they're young enough to not yet have learnt to distinguish between reality and fantasy, but those usually have a much lower... body count, not to put too fine a point on it.
For one thing, your people made damn sure every cinema and home theatre setup is equipped with cleverly concealed wave generators whose only purpose is to constantly minutely shake up reality, so nothing can 'stick' by accident... carefully hidden in the speakers and component materials, unnoticed by civilians. It's also why they'd thrown up so many roadblocks for 3D movies, and that those had luckily gone the way of the dodo in the blink of an eye.
Regrettably, it looks like those safeguards have... inexplicably failed in this instance – or the organisers of this little local fantasy movie fest circumvented them... somehow, for some reason. You make a mental note to ask them later... if they're still alive, and aren't part of the charnel house surrounding you.
The only reason your new friend survived at all was because you were sat in the back row, next to her, and you instinctively tackled her to the floor when you felt the world go soft around you, which was never a good thing in your experience. No matter how awkward doing that would've been to explain if you'd been wrong.
Fortunately for you — or rather, unfortunately for everyone in the cinema, including you, you weren't.
When the dragon'd materialised in the dark, packed auditorium, there had been that brittle instant of confusion on both sides... before the displaced Outsider exploded into a raging ball of fire and claws. That's when the screaming began.
Don't think about that now.
You swallow and reflexively take a deep breath. The next instant, you're desperately trying to muffle your violent coughs as you try to expel smoke and ash, along with what feels like a major portion of your lungs. Fuck. Big mistake. "Now, there might be something we can do to survive this." you wheeze. Maybe. If you can pull a proverbial rabbit out of a non-existent hat. But... it wouldn't be the first time, would it?
The girl's hollow, lifeless eyes – eyes that've seen too much horror, too quickly for someone so young – faintly lighten with something resembling hope, and you have her full attention now. Of course, she doesn't know just how infinitesimal that chance is... Or that you're making things up as you go along.
"I'm with a..." you hesitate, but what does it matter? You're both probably going to die, and if not, the after action team will wipe her memory of the whole event anyway. They'll be doing her a kindness, really. Sometimes you wish they could do the same for you. Usually when you lie awake in the small hours of the night. "... an agency that takes care of reality incursions like these. I'm a Lyre."
Laura frowns, and pulls back a bit. "A liar?"
You wince. Your fault. "No, with a y. Like the instrument."
This clarification doesn't seem to help much. The girl is all of what, 12, maybe 14 years old... and her interest in ancient Greek instruments is probably equivalent to yours in what's on TV these days.
You don't watch a lot of TV anymore. Reminds you too much of work.
"Never mind. Not important." you shake your head, waving the thought away. "Just know that handling this kind of... situation... is my job." A job you accidentally stumbled into six months ago, a wide-eyed, terrified third-year university student. Ex-student, now. A job you're supposed to do with a team. An experienced team that supervises you. A team that has all kinds of tried and tested tools of the trade, in a big black van. Except you don't have either of those, not after– don't think about that either. Not right now.
What do you have? Yourself, a random teenage girl – a total stranger, a civilian, trembling and scared shitless – and... you pat your various pockets, hand stilling as you touch something hard tucked inside your jacket. Remember you never actually turned in the little emergency tuning fork after your last mission. Nobody'd really cared about the equipment at the time, least of all you.
You might... or at least, one of you might actually make it. Don't think about the fact that you last used it to take care of a much smaller problem at a child's birthday party. Just don't. You're definitely not going out there to swat the Outsider on the nose with it this time, though. 'I do believe in fairies' indeed. Especially when you're whacking them across the room like Steffi Graf going for another grand slam.
You carefully slide out from under the seats to peek at the projection booth window above. High above. It'll take a minor miracle, because you've never been what anyone would describe as 'athletic' in your life, but yes, it had blown inwards earlier. When the creature roared its defiance at this strange new world, almost deafening you. Good.
You turn to look at Laura again. Size her up. "If I boost you through that opening, do you think you could...uh turn on the speakers...?" And if not, at least the civilian'd have more cover. A bigger chance to get out of this horror show alive. "Turn on the speakers, and find a... microphone?" you finish.
Uh. They still have those, right? So the projectionist can talk to the audience? Shit, they better, or this plan will fall apart very quickly. Well, even more quickly.
A glance at the merrily burning walls, their flame retardant fabrics slowly losing the fight against the unnatural dragonfire, tells you that most of the sound equipment is nothing more than melted slag by now, but the rest will have to be enough. It has to be.
Fear shines bright in the frozen teen's eyes, eyes that keep darting quick glances towards the front, where judging by the sounds of splintering wood, tearing fabric and others your mind shies away from, the unseen dragon is on the move.
"I'll distract it." you promise. Probably at the cost of your own life, but the kid's seen enough death and destruction for one day and doesn't need to know that. Yet. Hopefully never, if you're very lucky. Which you're usually not. You're here, aren't you? Focus! "Plus, you'll be safer up there."
After what seems like an eternity, Laura squares her thin shoulders and nods, once.
"Brave girl." you slowly rise into a crouch, judging angles as you try to stay hidden behind the seats. A thought suddenly strikes you. It's unorthodox – okay, wildly theoretical and probably very forbidden, if it's even possible – and if your superiors catch wind of it, there'll be hell to pay... but you're supposed to be on vacation, your first, and you're damned if you aren't going to do your very best to actually enjoy the rest of your precious days off. Not to mention the rest of your pathetic life. Which means surviving, at all costs.
"Laura..." Your voice is distant as you mentally go through a list of movies you've watched, and which more importantly the girl might have seen.
No. Too old. You barely remember that one yourself. N... maybe.
"Did you ever watch that Underworld movie? With Kate Beckinsale? Or see the poster? Maybe just the trailer?" you ask.
A look of bewildered confusion is your reward, and it takes a second before Laura answers with a very hesitant "... yes?"
Bingo! You can't stop yourself from grinning. You never believed in age ratings when you were younger either. Thank god some things seem to be universal. The girl probably thinks the weird stranger totally cracked, and to be fair, it is an absolutely hare-brained idea... but if it works...
Deep brea– Another muffled cough as you accidentally swallow more smoke. Damn it. Keep your head in the game!
"Okay. Don't you think I kind of look like her?" you ask, trying to convince the girl through sheer force of will. Trying to convince yourself. Who's stretching and distorting reality now?
Shut up, inner voice. Not now.
Come on, work with me, kid. Ignore the ripped jacket, the baggy, stained sweatshirt and training pants. The out of shape body. All of the body, really. The face. The hair. The voice.
"Wouldn't it be cool if she was here to help you, with her supernatural speed and reflexes?" you persevere and squeeze Laura's shoulder in a comforting gesture, feeling it tremble beneath your fingers. "You'd believe a bad-ass vampire like her could take on a dragon, right? Protect you? Wouldn't it be cool if I was her?"
Come on, come on, come on... You pray like you've never prayed before. None of the training manuals you read specified just how many people need to believe in something, but with reality here already being soft as it is... Please let this work... Your premise is sound. This has to be the same principle that gives some actors rave reviews about their incredibly believable performances. Only more so. It has to work. Even though you're not much of an actor. Or even in costume. It's the only chance we have.
A sudden weight on your hips. Something leathery slaps against the floor, which is much further away now. A tightening across your chest and waist. Very tight in the crotch, jesus that's uncomfortable. Until it suddenly isn't.
Oh.
"Your eyes!" Laura gasps, recoiling. "Wha... How did..."
"Thanks, kid, I knew I could count on you." you give her a bright, impossibly clear ice-blue wink and a fangy smile, ecstatic. It only went and bloody worked, didn't it! Now it just has to work long enough...
"Okay, quickly now. You know what to do." you tell Laura as you grab her by the hips. The girl's surprised squawk catches the dragon's attention, and it whips its head towards you.
"Hurry!" You intend to only boost the girl up, but throw her up the wall like it was nothing. Like she weighs nothing. Laura's shoes scramble for purchase as she grips the window frame. Holy shit. That was more than just the adrenaline coursing through your body. It really worked?! Does that mean you have all of Selene's traits now? That you are her?
There's a thump, and a faint "I'm in!" from above.
"Good! Catch!" you yell back, lobbing your tuning fork through the tiny opening with incredible precision, especially considering you regularly manage to miss the wastepaper basket right next to your desk at the office. "When you've turned on the microphone, bang that against it!" you scream and combat-roll to the side, narrowly avoiding becoming a human torch.
Have to keep moving.
Have to buy time.
Have to stay alive.
Every nerve ending sings as you rise to your full, surprising new height... and almost face-plant as your ankle twists under you. Ow. Those fucking high heels! Don't think, just be Selene. Steps hesitant at first, you're soon running like you never have before, dodging discarded drinks and spilled popcorn – and other sad reminders of what probably had been a nice afternoon out for people, until it suddenly wasn't, and they weren't.
You stumble, catch yourself on a headrest and effortlessly cartwheel over it, all the while trying not to notice the heat creeping ever closer, the splintering getting ever louder as the dragon zeroes in on you.
What's taking her so long? See, this is why you're supposed to work in trained teams of professionals. Unfortunately, all you have to work with is yourself, a kid you've never met before, and your silent prayers. It'll have to be enough. At least, you fervently hope it'll be enough, because if it isn't, you're about a minute away from becoming dragon chow, and if the Outsider gets out into the city proper...
Something heavy keeps bumping against you, jostling you out of your morose thoughts.
Oh, right. That isn't all you have to work with just this instant.
You draw Selene's trusty weapons in one smooth motion, as if you've been doing this for hundreds of years, backflip off a seat and, gracefully arcing through the air, unload hot lead on the creature. Taste Death! It rears back in surprise... but seems otherwise unharmed. Damn it. Of course it was too good to be true. It can probably only be killed by the sorceress-blessed sword of the one true king or whatever other stupid trope this movie's universe hinges on.
You're quickly running out of places to run to... and options, because there's no way you'll ever get close enough to the beast to try and... and bite it or whatever, and you can already feel your clothes try to reassert their original form. Another stumble as one of your feet is suddenly no longer encased in a sexy under-knee, high-heeled combat boot, but just a ratty old sneaker again.
The good news is that this helps you accidentally dodge giant snapping teeth, the creature being deceptively fast for its size. The bad news is that the dragon is now so close you're already being broiled just from its proximity...
An encouraging crackling followed by a squeal from the few remaining speakers makes the Outsider whip its head towards the walls, startled by this new potential threat.
Oh good, maybe you'll survive after all. You were worried for a second there.
Muffled thumps followed by a soft "How do I..." are quickly replaced by the most glorious and liberating sound you've ever heard as the fork does its work, retuning the world. The multi-frequency thrum from the speakers bounces off the breach, alerting the universe to the fact that there is something wrong here. Something that doesn't belong.
"That's right, you big, stinking lizard!" you crow as the sound bounces back and forth, feeding back on itself, building to a crescendo... "This is our reality! Get the hell out!"
The world seems to stutter, and then the creature is just... gone, back to wherever it came from, as reality snaps back to what should be – and with that, you're just plain old you again, in the body you hate so much.
You stagger and sink back into a cinema seat that miraculously survived the carnage so far, surveying the desolation. The paperwork is going to be hell, but... worth it. You've saved someone from a god-damn dragon, and... you now have some new ideas to mull over. Dangerous ideas. You look down at yourself, at your filthy old university sweatshirt. You're going to miss those extremely cool leathers and that corset. Maybe not so much the tight pants. Not yet anyway.
Another crackle, and the girl's voice booms through the speakers, breathy with disbelief. "Wait, that worked? It's gone?! We're... saved?" Unable to believe that something that simple could take care of such a huge, scary creature... and if fortune hadn't smiled on you, it probably wouldn't have, but that was a thought for another time - probably in one of your many nightmares. Luckily for Laura, she wouldn't have to live with those.
"You did great, kid! Sorry. Laura. Now go wait outside!" you yell back, giving a tired thumbs-up towards the booth. You need to get out of this deathtrap, but first... you speed-dial the Melpomene.
"This is Siren Winters. Yes, I know, ma'am. I'm reporting a suppressed breach... A bad one, ma'am. We need containment, clean-up, and a Lethe team for the survivor. Yeah, I'll hold..."
