A/N: In response to a reviewer, the explanations will all be told right now. She is NOT, however wanted by the LEP, nor will she ever be (I think, might happen.)

Lyra stared out the car window, thinking of how she got in this screwy situation.

It all started two years ago. I just got out of the Haven Institute for Artistic Youth. (HIYA for short) I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. Seriously. Most of my family was in the LEP, but I was not about to do that. My art came first. Unfortunately, my mother told me that she would disown me if I became an artist professionally. She was the second female to even get in the LEP, and takes her job seriously.

So when my cousin Holly told me about the need for undercover fairies aboveground, I got a bit curious.

And when my mom found out, well, it was sealed. It was a good compromise. Technically, I was working for the LEP, and I was also able to do my art. Perfect.

When I heard the news that I was going to be in Las Vegas, I went through the roof. Plenty of fascinating sights to sketch.

One boring day, I had a brilliant idea. There was an art museum nearby, and I needed money. I spoke to the curator. He agreed to do an exhibit under the alias of Ruby Smoke, and he would say to the press that they appeared in his office once a day. That would bring publicity to the museum. I would get very well paid.

So that started my career as Ruby Smoke. A career that looked like it might end early.

If only I knew...

Twenty minutes later

"And why did you kick Mr. Grissom?" The man, an Agent Culpepper, asks. Apparently, the killer had struck in multiple states, or some such thing. All she knows was that he reminds her of someone, but she's not sure who...

She bites back a groan. He asked that twice already! "I panicked!" she frowns at him. She really wanted to sock him, really, she did!

Uh-oh, now I know who he reminds me of! Briar Cudgeon, that weirdo with the twisted face. He got fried, didn't he?

"Miss Rivers, we found this at the scene..." he starts.

"One, you were most definitely not there, and two, it was technically taken from me."

"It was at the crime scene."

"It fell from a tree!"

"Anyway, it had an interesting bit of information on it, stating that you were Ruby Smoke, someone the press desperately wants to meet."

"That's blackmail you're insinuating, isn't it?"

"That and the fact that your background is slightly sketchy," here Lyra frowns at the intended pun, "right, Miss... Lyralynn Rivers?"

"Now what are you suggesting?" Lyra hated her full name.

"Lyra, what are you doing?" Foaly hisses through the disguised earpiece, seemingly a large sunburst.

"That you are not who you say you are, of course." He says condescendingly.

"And who will believe that load of bull?" she hisses, eyes narrowed.

"Soon, everyone."

"I want my sketches, please." She snaps.

"They're evidence."

"Of what? The fact that I'm an artist! I'm through with being polite, I've put up with this long enough!" Lyra's temper snaps. And it doesn't just snap, it shatters swiftly into a thousand itty bitty pieces.

"I'm sorry, but we have to hold you until your parent or guardian comes to claim you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Then Lyra slaps him hard enough to send him reeling. She grabs her sketches and crosses the room.

"This is not my day," she groans. The door was locked!

"I'm afraid that you can't leave."

"No really?" Lyra was about to seriously hurt him.

"Lyralynn Margaret Rivers! CALM DOWN!" Foaly rarely yelled, but Lyra's stress levels were through the roof. She really would hurt him, probably badly. That and what he had seen in the iris cam.

"Lyra, let me see you latest work." Lyra pretends to study her sketch, focusing on the wound.

"D'arvit."