"That asshole didn't smudge my makeup, did he?" My voice trembles from holding back tears of pain; one hand clutching my side where a layer of purple and grey latex had marked an easy soft target under a series of harder plastic rib-like structures. My other hand is clenched into a fist around a scrap of his shirt that I managed to tear off while giving him a very clear lesson in why attacking someone wearing hard pointy plastic protrusions all over their legs was a very bad idea.

"Someone thinking with their dick punches you in the face and abdomen for telling him not to touch your ass, and you're more concerned about your costume than about making sure we tell security to detain him so we can call the cops and press charges" My sister, Liz, shakes her head only to start laughing as I lift up the fist with the scrap of shirt. "Okay, point taken. Are you okay? He didn't have a blade hidden in that punch or anything? Move your hand, Sam!"

Both hands tense up for a moment at that name; the name that I never considered my own to begin with. Blood pounds in my ears as dark echoes of past taunts resurface in my mind, and I must have a murderous expression on my face because Liz suddenly looks frightened. Next thing I know I have her supporting me and guiding me down onto a bench to sit. I just barely notice a few costumed people standing still nearby, and obviously acting as a wall to create a buffer zone between the crowds and the bench. I don't even realize I'm crying until she pulls a few tissues out of the spherical purse she's carrying and dabs at my cheeks and eyes.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry, Sarah, it just slipped out! Please don't be angry." I feel her other hand gently probe the area of the abdominal punch, and this makes me flinch away with an involuntary hiss. "Well, no blood and no damage to the costume, but you're probably going to have a nasty bruise. This is not the time to have a breakdown just because I used the wrong name!" I can hear the worry in her voice, and I close my eyes to focus and center myself a bit while gently squeezing her shoulder.

"I'll be fine, just, please, never call me that again." I squeeze her shoulder a couple more times; a signal we'd developed years ago that we'd talk more later, in private. I take a few more calming and deep breaths before opening my eyes again. The first thing I see is Elizabeth's gold-and-black-painted face looking back at me before she nods in understanding while taking off her helmet to let her red hair down for a bit. "We might need to call it a day a bit earlier than expected, or at least get something to eat now while my face is already messed up. The police will probably want me to remove the facial makeup to document my injuries anyways."

"Security and police report first, then lunch at a local restaurant sounds good. Food's on me, and I have the retouch kits for both of our faces in the purse if you decide to come back after lunch." This brings a painful smile to my face and I carefully stand up from the bench.

Before we can go anywhere one of the people who created the living wall around us clears their throat: a teenager wearing a purple dress with pink and fuscia patches as well as matching pink gloves and boots, with purple feathered wings made of cardboard. "Excuse me, I know this is probably a bad time, but those are the best costumes I've ever seen of those characters and I just have to get a picture with you." The others who stood watch all nodded and chimed in as well, including a man painted in the red and black chaos of Carnage offering to add his observations of the incident.

"I heard what that animal said to you, miss, and he clearly needs a lesson in hate crime laws. I would have done something more to prevent his escape, but I did manage to record the whole thing by chance." Even his phone is red and black. A passerby is commandeered to get all the pictures everyone wants, then the three of us head off to present the damning evidence.

Three hours later, after an uncomfortable recounting of the incident and a delicious sushi lunch, we arrive back at the convention center with raised spirits and special cargo. In one hour there is going to be a panel that includes comic writer Simon Furman, followed by a chance to get autographs. Liz brought a single Beast Wars comic, whereas I have my collection of mint-condition Starcraft comics carefully tucked away alongside a few select valuables and necessities in an armored pocket hidden behind the 'bone-plates' covering my stomach: wallet, phone, emergency charger, emergency solar panel in case no outlets are available, tampons in case my sister forgot. I had to be inventive, since my costume wasn't one that would allow for a purse. A glance at my sister's back makes me stop, then laugh before calling out while we pass a souvenir setup. "Liz, wait, your hourglass is mussed up and there's some bunching. I think it happened when you sat down for lunch and I didn't notice before." I kneel down, frowning as I try to smooth things out using the palms of my hands and grateful that Liz had used a firm plastic base for the back 'shell' piece of the costume rather than making the whole thing out of shiny spandex.

"Well hello ladies! My my, such fine costumes, and so accurate to the source material." The sudden voice sends a shiver down my spine as I quickly stand and look into the stall, only to get hit in the face with a foam-rubber spider leg attached to my sister's forearm. "A Spawn of Amon and the least toy-accurate character since Jetfire, one with a perfect costume and the other missing her pincers." The guy in the stall strikes a severely strong chord of wrongness in me. For one thing, why would someone dress like the Happy Mask Salesman from Ocarina of Time at Comic-Con?

"My costume is not incomplete. I'm not about to put on some oversized chopsticks just to please a stickler for detail either. Other than that, your compliments are accepted and appreciated on my part." Liz's tone brooks no argument, though her face does light up a bit as she looks at the vast display of wares. Masks are by far the most common thing available, including a few that are so detailed as to make it appear that characters have been beheaded. One thing catches my eye as well, but I take care to avoid showing any of the excitement I feel as my eyes trace the outline of a C-20A Cannister Rifle replica.

"Of course, of course, I wouldn't dream of questioning your design decisions on a matter of practicality such as having hands. Now, for ladies of such distinguished tastes only the best wares will do... and I only stock the best wares. Each one absolutely unique and guaranteed not to break due to casual use." His attention turns to my sister and he steps out of my sight while I look around to see what else he has to offer so I get a better price when I start off with something other than that gun. "I even have an MP-05 Megatron with the arm armatures made of titanium alloy to fix that annoyingly common breaking issue."

"Oh, no. I'm sorry, but I hate that mold and I just bought an MP-36 last month." I hear her open her purse and reach in before I look over at her and grab her wrist before she can pull the new toy out. My gaze flicks to the man dressed as O'aka and I can't help but wonder why that seems like such a strange costume.

"Liz, think before you act. You were about to pull out a collector's item toy shaped like a gun in the middle of a crowded convention hall. I don't care if security cleared you to carry it as long as it stayed inside a plastic bag; I don't want you to start a panic when some idiot can't tell the difference between a plastic P-38 and a metal one. Now that I've said that loud enough for everyone in earshot to have heard that this is simply a high-end TOY, you can show the man." I glance around at the people nearby, and I notice a few of them either shaking their heads or laughing. One guy has a camera pointed right at my ass... at least he isn't grabbing it.

"You know, Sarah, you could have done that without embarassing the shit out of me." Her angry tone suggests that she's not going to be chipping in for gas on the drive home, and I return to looking at the other items the guy dressed as Marcus is offering. Why is he dressed as a Borderlands character when this is a comic convention? Why is he glaring at me? You'd think a guy would be happy having two women whose costumes render them little better than nude standing at his booth for an extended length of time. Maybe he's gay, or married. Shit, Liz was right; this guy has so many gun and weapon replicas on display that nobody would blink at another one. How the hell did he clear all this with security? How the hell did I manage to spot that C-20A among all these other ones? Why is he grinding his teeth instead of looking at Liz... no. I close my eyes and take a deep breath while bringing my hands up to my temples and gently massaging for a few seconds. Shut out the world, center yourself, breathe and calm down. Nobody is glaring at you. Nobody but Liz even has a reason to be angry with you right now.

"Well now that is some nice engineering there. May I hold the bag for a moment miss, Liz was it?" Shutting the world out isn't working very well, and something just sounds off about his voice or that is an extremely bad impression. "Here, as insurance that I'm not about to make off with this expensive toy how about looking over these two pieces to see if they interest you?" Two heavy thuds rattle the table and I quickly open my eyes. "One Autobot Matrix of Leadership, and one Key to Vector Sigma."

Liz starts bouncing like a little girl and grabs my left shoulder to shake me. "Holy shit, Sarah, look at these!" It's unnecessary since I already have, my gaze just barely catching the guy in the Undead Burg Hollow Merchant costume and I shiver at how digustingly realistic his makeup job is, as well as wrinkling my nose as I swear I smell decaying flesh for a moment. Even I can't help but marvel at the workmanship in these two pieces. The Matrix is sized for a human but clearly made of silver and gold, or at the very least it has been electroplated with those metals. "That is the largest sapphire I've ever seen!" I can't help but cringe and shake my head while looking over the other one.

"Liz, there's no way that's a sapphire. Something that large would be worth more than this entire building and the net worth of every person inside it. It's most likely glass, but the whole unit would be worth at least three hundred in materials alone unless the casing is made of plastic. It's too heavy for that unless this 'Key' is depleted uranium." The key is more intricately detailed than the Matrix. It is easily an inch thick and superficially looks like a remote control of some kind, but it has lines and patterns of silver and some blue crystals which I can't even come close to identifying. "This, on the other hand, I can't begin to guess how much this is worth." I look up again as I swear I see some light flash nearby. Oh...now that is interesting. A Zerg Drone plush, about a foot long. This time I can't hold back the smile as I move to get a different viewing angle on it.

"That would be the true form of The Key, young miss. Many of the Geewun Purists would call it a bastard fusion of the 'real' Key and the one used in Transformers Prime as little more than a super-sized memory stick." Liz giggles at that, and I roll my eyes as I realize that no matter how good a deal I manage to get on my choices this guy is going to earn a fortune off of us. "Now, it seems you finally found something else you like." Before I can blink the man dressed as the Tavernkeeper from Dungeon Defenders places the cannister rifle and the drone plush in front of me. I look up and my stomach twists as I look into his eyes. Bile rises in my throat and I quickly look down to help ease that instant rush of nausea. I try to hide my haste by pulling open that clever pocket on my stomach and reaching in for my wallet. "For you two lovely ladies I offer a special one-time deal: buy one, get one free." Anything to get us moving, we're holding up other business...wait, where did that thought come from? Fuck it, nevermind, those eyes aren't human! Nobody has irises that are purple and green with blue capillaries in the sclera.

"W-wow, what a great deal. You have no idea how much that kind of compliment means to me right now." I stammer, fumbling a bit before finally managing to twist my arm to the right angle so the ridges and spines on the back of my forearm don't get stuck at the rim of the opening. I try to keep my face stuck in a smile as I look up and see him as the vendor from the secret shop in DotA 2. I can't keep it as he flickers like a bad projection. Everything around me goes silent as I watch a deep saucepan appear on his head with the handle facing me and that huge double-chin turn into a beard. His clothing, no, his disguise becomes Crazy Steve from Plants versus Zombies for a solid five seconds before it begins flickering too fast for me to even register individual forms. "H-how much will that be, then?" My vision starts going dark, as if all the lights except the ones over this creature's booth had gone out. "W-we'll give you w-whatever you want."

"You little bitch. You see me." I can't move, hell, I can barely breathe as his form becomes incomprehensible, like something Lovecraft would have come up with if he'd done LSD and had a really bad trip. "I should have known better than to come to a version of this planet with latent psionic potential, no matter how miniscule it is in the general population. I will take your sister's humanity, and her home, but she can keep her hands. I'll take your humanity. I'll take your home. I could take your mind, but it might be more cruel for me to leave you that much. Good luck trying to stay sane, Samuel James Destefano, on a world where hormone treatment and gender affirmation surgery do not exist." His form solidifies into a humanoid of pure black with glowing white eyes, like white dwarf stars on an otherwise featureless face. "Take your toys, and get out of my sight!"

As my vision truly does go black I feel a few things collide with me, and I manage to overcome whatever he's using to paralyze me in order to scream one last defiant thought at him; "That is not my name, you alien rectal wart!" The instant splitting headache tells me that was a bad idea, and I feel something start flowing in my nose before unconsciousness takes me.

"Sarah, wake up. Wake up, I'm freaking the fuck out!" I don't recognize the voice, and I groan in pain as I open one eye. The angle of the impact tells me that whoever spoke just punched me in the back of my left shoulder. The force of the impact tells me that whoever it was doesn't know their own strength, because that really hurt. The sound of metal on bone, not plastic, and the feeling of things on the back of my head twitching in response to these stimuli are what really wake me up.

"Shit, what the fuck is going on?" My wings twitch as I sit up. Wait, what? I don't HAVE wings! I stand, stagger, and fall flat on my ass in a foot of snow as I quickly find out that my feet are no longer supported by clear plastic wedges around what simply looked like a four-inch bone spike for a heel. My wings flex and dig into the ground to help lift me up onto my feet again, and I begin to realize what that being meant when it said it would take our humanity. Standing in front of me, one hand on her knee and the other being shaken to try and remove some mucousal fluid that transferred when she punched me, is Blackarachnia. More accurately; my sister in a Blackarachnia costume that has actually become mechanical. I have to be sure... "Liz? Is that really you?"

She glares at me, and it is odd to see metal flex like skin to create her facial expression. "Who the FUCK else would both look like this AND KNOW YOUR NAME?"

"Anyone could recognize Sarah Kerrigan, and for all you knew you just punched the real Queen of Blades until I said your name." I know I shouldn't be angry about that, but goddamn she needs to start thinking before she does something that isn't work-related.

"Sarah Francessca Destefano, stop assuming that I'm a complete moron for just one second, PLEASE! Your pocket still exists, you had your wallet in your hand and the spare box of tampons you INSIST on carrying with you any time we go anywhere together was still inside. I knew exactly who you were before I punched you." Any further argument is interrupted by a flash of light that is absolutely blinding for me with the snow on the ground and falling around us reflecting and refracting it; eliciting a shriek as I bring my hands up to cover my eyes.

"Faam, E tet hud aqbald du veht cusadrhk mega aedran uv oui rana." The voice is musical, but the language unknown...and yet I can hear an echo in my head. My hands go from holding my eyes to clutching my temples as I shake my head in a vain attempt to silence this echo. Well, I did not expect to find something like either of you here. "E tet hud aqbald du veht yhodrehk yd ymm vun yhudran vevdo oaync." I did not expect to find anything at all for another fifty years. I open my eyes to realize that I haven't been blinded afterall, and I see my sister alternating between looking at me and at the entity that has appeared somewhere to my right. "Fryd yna oui?" What are you?

Liz looks at me one more time before growling and bending down to grab something off the ground. Silver, black grip, black 'scope,' and slightly oversized for her...no, perfectly sized for her hand now...odd. "Look, flying horse-thing, I don't know who you are or what the FUCK your glowing horn is doing, but you are hurting MY SISTER. Either you stop hurting her right now or we all find out exactly what my little toy here can do after that guy dressed like the JojaMart representative who sent us here touched it. I'd rather not get blood, or whatever internal fluids you have, on my hands so quickly, but NOBODY FUCKS WITH MY FAMILY; WE'RE ITALIAN!"

"Elizabeth Maria Destefano, stop yelling when I already have a headache. It's not helping."

"E ybumukewa vun yho" I apologize for any "discomfort in the process, but I had to fine-tune the translation matrix of my spell for the unknown language. There was no way to do that without either some kind of sample, or invasive mental probes. I elected to go with the former as I had made the latter illegal to use on sapient beings outside of times of outright war over a century ago." Oh, good, the echoing stopped...but there is still an almost-whisper in the back of my mind that is less painful and more of an annoyance akin to a mosquito buzzing in my ear. "While I do not appreciate the threat against my health I simply must applaud your loyalty to your family. Loyalty is a key value in the nation I govern. If you could please lower the weapon I would be happy to continue this discussion in a more civil manner." Liz blinks, looking at me in confusion until I nod and gesture for her to stop threatening whoever this is. I do my best to stand up straighter myself, wiping away the tears on my face before they can freeze as I turn and behold the palest shade of pink I've ever seen. "Thank you. My name is Princess Celestia, and the two of you tore a hole in the Weave the size of Manehatten somehow."

"You're a talking pegasus...with a horn, and you're making horse puns." I blink as I finally notice the faint reverberation my own voice seems to have, but the snow is falling straight down now rather than blowing sideways, so the wind not flooding my ears might explain that. "Nope, not going to think too hard about that at the moment. My sister and I need to get somewhere warm before we," I cringe and look over at Liz again before continuing, "sorry, before I begin to get frostbite. I think Liz may be beyond such frailties of the flesh for the forseeable future."

"Liz? That would be short for 'Elizabeth Maria Destefano' which I heard you say?" The princess shifts her focus towards my sister, who simply nods as if not trusting herself to speak. The golden glow around her horn intensifies slightly, and the air feels a bit more comfortable without really eliminating the chill. "So, what would your name be then?"

"Call me Sarah, and try to avoid using more than our first names unless we have caused a huge problem and need to be given some kind of lecture or punishment." I manage a smile, no teeth, and the hor-Princess Celestia smiles in return.

"I-I have some sensors telling me that some lubricants in my body are about ten degrees away from crystallization, actually. I may not get frostbite anymore, not that we know that for sure yet, but that doesn't mean freezing temperatures aren't a threat to my safety. You mentioned spells, right? Is there any chance you could create a warm room for the three of us if this discussion needs to take place now? Eight degrees."

"Oh, of course. Let me see...five walls of force and a radiant heat spell on a stone table. You two look like you would fit comfortably in the chairs that we use for minotaur ambassadors and their families when they visit, one backless. Afternoon tea with some pastries, I think, would hit the spot." I take her word for it on the walls of force, but the other items begin appearing as she names them and both of us sit down after she gestures with a forehoof. "Now, let us talk of why you have invaded the territory of the Crystal Empire, which still exists even if it has been missing for nine and a half centuries, and is a protectorate state of the Unified Equestrian Nations despite its name. Let us also speak of how you managed to nearly destroy the local Weave. Finally, you will convince me why I shouldn't have one of you sentenced to at least twenty years of community service for threatening me with a weapon of unknown capacity and therefore potentially ending all life on this planet since I control the movement of the sun."

"GODDAMNITT LIZ!"

Author's Notes:

So, yeah, I'm trying my hand at this 'Displaced' thing because the idea would not leave my head and wouldn't let me work on anything else whatsoever until I had at least written out this chapter. This sure as hell felt longer than 4k words while I was writing it, but I do hope any who read it find it an enjoyable experience.

I haven't had time to give it a final editing pass yet, so I would appreciate comments pointing them out if anyone finds any errors.

P.S. Apparently the formatting here on FiMfiction eats the tilde character (~) in story text, which is what I was using to denote the difference between internal monolog use of italics versus stray thoughts or surface-layer mind reading, which in turn makes it impossible to tell the two apart at this time.

I'm not going to fix this problem in this chapter. It. Makes. Sense! Sarah has no clue how to tell read thoughts from her own thoughts yet because until now it has been 99% dormant! A word here, an emotion there, and now full sentences being translated in real-time while she hears a foreign language being spoken.

I love happy accidents like this!