Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 4

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 4

Here's part four; action and feels (though your mileage may vary) ahead!

“Okay Gideon, we get the whole revenge thing! You didn’t have to get Norman involved!” Dipper shouted, straining against the ropes holding him to the chair. His nemesis chuckled, circling around where he had the twins tied back to back to chairs in his room.

“I know the supernatural when I see it boy, but unlike you I know how to use it. He’s more powerful than anyone knows, even him. I knew he’d be my ticket to the Shack the moment he came to town, and you’d be helpless to stop me then! I jus’ didn’t know y’all would show up at my doorstep and make this all so easy.”

“What did you even do to him, ya weirdo?!” Mabel cried, “It was that weird rock stuff wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?!”

“Now Mabel darlin’, no need to get so worked up,” Gideon said sweetly, turning to face her and patting her cheek. “It was jus’ a bit of findin’ out what made Norman tick, a touch a’ hypnosis, then the rock did the rest.”

“I knew it was hypnosis!” Dipper said under his breath. If he could just wiggle enough and reach his pocket knife… no luck. His arms weren’t that noodle-y. Watching Gideon circle around again, his eyes fell on the amulet. “Where’d you even get one of those again anyway?”

“It wasn’t no internet catalogue, I’ll tell you that! I have my ways, means you couldn’t begin to understand… and now…” Gideon removed his tie and held it in Dipper’s face. “Watch closely.”

He found he couldn’t look away.

-------- 

Raz admitted, Norman was… pretty good at atmosphere. The floor creaked and bucked under his every step in the house, and what light made it through the clouded windows didn’t penetrate very far, scattering in the dust-filled air. The wallpaper was stained and peeling, and it smelled like mildew, and maybe blood. Every so often, there’d be a tapping from the walls or ceiling that seemed to be following him. And it was cold. Temperature usually wasn’t a thing in mental worlds unless fire was involved, but here, it was freezing.

He’d seen plenty of terrifying things in the mental worlds of others, but this…. There was something building, and it wasn‘t doing anything for his nerves. He’d never seen a horror movie in his life, but he was pretty sure he was in one right now. A door slammed upstairs, and he yelped, flattening against the wall. Only silence now.

“I’ve gotta talk to this kid about his mind,” he grumbled, shaking his head. He made for the stairs since the ground floor was pretty obviously empty. The steps gave dangerously under his weight, and the banister wasn’t reassuring either, wobbling when he put his hand on it to steady himself. Cautiously, afraid he’d be sent through rotting wood and into some bottomless pit at any moment, he made his way up, batting aside spider webs that caressed his face. He climbed for a while and knew he was past the second floor by now; the thing about mental worlds was that they rarely obeyed the rules of physics and regularly broke things like conservation of volume. Without any windows, it was getting progressively darker too.

“Ugh, this again,” Raz muttered to himself, and decided to skip the whole walking part. A soft orange glow burst from under his feet and he was off, taking the stairs yards at a time. He should have just done this from the start.

No longer feeling so cautious, he sped upwards, eager to finish things up, but a dull rumble put a damper on his efforts. He stopped to listen as the sound seemed to move through the walls, a shearing noise that scraped along and brought violent shaking with it. He was forced to cling to the bannister, flimsy as it was, to keep from being knocked off his feet as whatever it was moved through and finally dissipated. As frightening as the experience was though, he wasn’t entirely sure that had been a regular feature of the mindscape. Something about the sound was familiar…. Undaunted, he reformed his levitation orb and carried on, his way lit by his own manifested will.

There was a shadow, and something clattered behind him. He froze, trying to comprehend what was happening now…. Had Norman just thrown something at him? It’d take more than that to scare—a book collided with his face, sending him sprawling awkwardly on the steps. He grunted and rubbed at where the spine had connected with his aviator cap, glad he wore the old thing. This was exactly why he’d ditched the official Psychonauts uniform not even halfway into his first mission. It was cool he got to wear the official garb, but it wasn’t nearly as practical—or stylish, so his girlfriend told him.

Glaring up at the top of the stairs, he skipped a few more steps up then ducked, and heard something else whiz overhead and land far below. But after a couple more leaps, it seemed Norman gave up on being a poltergeist, and he climbed the rest of the way without a hitch. The door he found at the top of the stairs was closed, and a soft gray light came through the gap at the bottom. Quietly, Raz turned the handle and pushed the door open, grateful when it didn’t squeal on its hinges—only creaking softly instead.

The room was washed out in the pale light streaming from the windows. A wall of posters in the corner above the bed was the only thing that still seemed to have some color to it, but Raz knew enough about advertising to realize they should have been brighter. Norman was sitting on his bed, facing a window with his back to the door. Even when the floor creaked as the psychic stepped warily into the room, he didn’t move.

“Hey,” Raz said gently, slowly approaching the beleaguered medium. “Everything okay?”

“…No,” Norman replied, an edge to his voice.

“I don’t get it. The stuff that made you lose it has been contained for a while now. You should be feeling better,” Raz wondered aloud, tapping a finger thoughtfully to his chin.

“Why should I feel better? There’s nothing to feel better about.”

“That’s not true, I’m here! You didn’t make it easy, but now I can find out what’s going on and find a way to help.”

“You should just leave. I don’t think you can help… there’s so much… too much wrong,” Norman replied, shoulders sagging. A poster peeled from the wall, and he hurriedly stuck it back, face drawn with concern. They caught each other’s eye for a moment, then the ghost whisperer went back to sulking.

“Man, are you mediums always this moody? ‘Cause that’s what I always hear,” Raz commented, folding his arms in exasperation.

“How would I know? The only other people like me are dead.”

Raz’s exasperation quickly dissipated. “Whoa, sorry. But… you said you talk to ghosts—doesn’t that mean you can still talk to them?”

“They moved on. I can’t contact them after that…. I’m all alone.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Not like anyone ever helped them either.”

“Well, I guess I can’t do anything for them, but I can help you. What’s going on?”

“You’ll just think I’m crazy. Everyone else already does.”

“No way. I’ve seen a ton of people worse than than you, and I’ve helped all of them. Most were a little more cooperative though, so you gotta give me something to work with. What exactly happened to you two days ago?”

“It’s… it’s only been two days?” Norman finally turned to look at him in shock.

“Yeah.”

“Nice to know it only takes me two days to go totally insane,” he sighed, flopping back on the bed. “I guess it’s no wonder considering the people I deal with.”

“Whoa, harsh. But that’s not the real—”

“Everyone should just leave me alone, including you. I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’d be nice to know what’s actually bothering you,” Raz huffed, folding his arms. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and he suspected it was the hypnosis making it hard for Norman to focus on anything but his anger and desire for isolation. There had to be some way to get him out of that mindset. He thought carefully; what could he say to break the hypnosis’ hold?

“Your life can’t be all bad though. What about the ghosts? They seem to like you a lot.”

“Why should that matter? They can’t do anything… actually they just get me in trouble.”

“Okay, uh… what about your family?”

“You’re not getting it!” Norman sprung from the bed, fists clenched. “I have no one! They all hate me, or they’re afraid. What am I supposed to do?” He almost seemed pleading now, even as tension filled the air. But Raz was starting to put things together, and the only way to be sure was to keep talking.

“And you’re one-hundred-percent sure that’s really how they feel about you? Because for a really long time I thought my dad hated—”

“Just go. You don’t have anything helpful to say. I’ll fix my problems by myself.”

“Wait—”

“Leave.”

“No, Norman, you can’t—”

“Go! Or I’ll make you myself,” he snarled, eyes flashing. Hot streaks of electricity burst from the fringes of his clothes and hair, casting the room in an eerie yellow. Raz leapt back and shielded his eyes; lightning was the last thing he’d expected to come from the medium, and definitely meant things were getting out of control despite his efforts. He had to keep things on the right track.

“Hey! Listen to me!”

“No one will listen to me. Why should I listen to them anymore?” Norman retorted.

“Because sometimes they have important stuff to tell you,” Raz answered, but had to duck as a bolt flew over his head.

“Oh, like how I’m a freak? How I’m better off joining my ghost friends?”

“Oh man, people really told you that?”

“You think I’m lying!?” he cried, projection nothing but raging energy now and forcing Raz back against the wall. So much electricity in a small room was bad for his health; he rubbed the back of his hand where a small arc had connected and left it stinging.

“No, I believe you! But you ignored it before—doesn’t that mean it’s not important?”

“I’m not ignoring it any more! I’m— I’m going to show them why they should all just leave me alone!”

“What?! Norman, I’m pretty sure that’s a really bad idea!” Raz shouted over the roar of the lightning as he edged closer to the door. If things got to be too much he’d need to be able to get out fast, but he desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. With his natural defenses gone, Norman needed someone else to help deal with his emotions. Fighting was out of the question; if he hurt Norman’s core even more than it already was who knew what damage that would do. Raz knew he wasn’t the greatest mediator—fighting was definitely his strong point, but he wasn’t known for giving up on anyone either. Most importantly, he had a pretty good idea of how to help now.

“And why not?”

“Because I think it’d make your friends really sad—all of them. The ghosts, and the ones you’re staying with right now.”

“But I don’t—” Norman’s projection flickered, and he stared at the psychic in disbelief.

“You do realize you’re not home, right? You‘ve got a sleeping bag out there, and this looks like it‘s your real room. You‘re definitely staying with friends,” he stated, laying out the facts.

“You’re lying!”

“Oh, now I’m the liar, huh? Look—” He gasped as a strike interrupted and hit him square in the chest. Reeling, he slid to the floor, trying to refocus his scattered thoughts. But he’d been hit with worse, and propped himself up against the wall once he‘d caught his breath and turned to face the medium once more. “You may not remember them, but it seems like you’ve been spending some time with them. Isn‘t that important?”

“Then why can’t I remember them? You’re making it up!” He punctuated his accusation with a bolt. Raz winced as it hit his boot, but he had to keep going.

“Norman, someone screwed with your memories and emotions. I don’t know how it’s connected exactly, but somehow, by taking away the memories of your friends, they made you this angry… sad… lighting thing! They want you to be like this!” he panted, staggering to his feet. “I don’t think you want to though. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me in.”

“I… I don’t know. I just want everyone to see how horrible they are!” he spat, and launched another stream of lightning at him. He managed to dodge most of it, but those first strikes had taken a lot out of him. After a few steps, it was like his legs wouldn’t listen to his commands and simply gave up, leaving him to collapse. He took the rest of the attack as best he could from his spot on the floor, but a pounding in his ears told him he couldn’t last long. When Norman seemed done, he hoisted himself up once more and faced the glowing ball of anger. “So you do that by being horrible back? Doesn‘t that make you just as bad?”

Norman made to reply, but froze. His image wavered, contorting before snapping back, expression turned from rage to fearful confusion. “N-no…” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“It does, and you know it!” Raz pressed, and the medium recoiled.

“No!” he cried, sending out a small wave of electricity and stunning Raz again. “You don’t understand, everything’s wrong! All of it, and I don’t know why, or how to fix it,” he sobbed, hands at his temples. “I’m not like this, I’m not like her.”

Raz gaped at the sudden change in moods, but at last he‘d made progress—somehow. And now there was a mysterious ‘her’ in the mix, but he figured there’d be time for explanations later, and it meant Norman was remembering something other than the hypnosis’ directive. Maybe now he could finally get to him and put an end to his suffering. Using the wall to pull himself up, he shoved the goggles out of his face. It was hard, like staring at the sun, but he looked Norman in the eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry. I think I definitely know how to help now. Let’s go out to your tree.”

“There’s… there’s something wrong with it. Usually it calms me down when I visit it, but lately it only reminded me of all the bad stuff. I… I wanted to tear it down!” Norman flickered again, projection splitting for an instant, lightning flaring.

“That’s what I’m here to take care of. Come on.” Raz gestured towards the door, then flopped over, legs numb like they’d fallen asleep. Rolling over, he shrugged at Norman, who was looking on in concern.

“I… How bad did I hurt you?”

 “I’ll be fine. If you can get us both to the tree, this’ll all be over really fast.”

“Okay…”

The house trembled, then everything blurred like it was ripped upward. In an instant, Raz was lying on dirt instead of floorboards, and the walls covered in posters had disappeared. The oak twisted over their heads, bare branches swaying ever so slightly in a breeze that had kicked up, and the clouds swirling above were now tinged with maroon streaks.

“Okay, now all you have to do is get rid of the junk that’s written on the tree—the stuff saying you’re a freak that never had friends,” Raz explained, sitting up and giving his troubled friend an encouraging smile.

“B-but… what if it’s true?” Norman wavered, eyes fixed on the tree. The electricity, which had died down since he’d realized something was wrong, began to pick up again. Summoning his strength, Raz stood and leapt in front of the toxic words, landing hard on his stomach against the rough bark. What he did for people sometimes….

“No way,” he coughed. He would turn over, but he was pretty sure his body wouldn’t listen at this point. He couldn’t get any energy back without dropping another astral layer, but that meant he’d have even less presence, which probably wasn’t a good idea even if things were looking better. “If anything… I’m your friend, right? So it’s already not true.”

“Uh…okay… What do I do?”

“I’m… not sure actually. Maybe try remembering what those crossed out things are?”

“I… I’m not sure I can. The tree’s dead…by now…”

“Can’t be. It’s a pretty major part of your psyche. I don’t think you’d be around if it was dead,” Raz replied. “Actually, I think I can still feel a little energy running through it.” He patted the bark gently, nodding.

“Then… I’ll try… but… be ready in case something bad happens.”

Raz was too busy monitoring the tree through his pounding head to catch that last bit. The oak had the slightest of wavelengths, so when a tremor shook the whole thing it was like someone blasting a bullhorn in his ear. He slid unceremoniously from the trunk and landed on the dusty ground with a thud before managing to turn to Norman. “What was that?”

“…Uh oh…”

There was a searing sound, and Raz instantly knew what was happening. Risking the last of his strength and braving electrocution, he leapt forward just as a hellish red portal tore open beneath Norman’s feet and shoved him out of the way. Inhuman claws seized him, digging roughly into his skin and pulled him in, the portal closing far above his head and leaving him in darkness.

The first time this had happened to him, long ago, Raz had really been afraid—the thing had sprung on him when he‘d though he was safe, and he‘d never faced it before. But then the actual fight hadn’t been too hard, and now he was looking forward to blasting this particular problem into oblivion, even with his energy levels so low. Nightmares were demonic-looking, but with the right moves they were easy to beat, and Norman had been plagued by the things long enough.

But something wasn't right.

He wasn't in a den full of fire and brimstone like nightmares usually preferred. There was nothing to shoot at, nothing to hit, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t even move, weakened or not. Peering worriedly into the dark, he could only wait for something to happen. Sniffing, he realized something was happening—the bitter smell of smoke wafted through the air. Holes appeared in the black, burning through like paper over a candle, their edges bright with embers as they spread.

“Let’s burn ‘im!”

Raz found himself standing on concrete steps facing a raging mob. Brandishing everything from the traditional torches and pitchforks to baseball bats, golf clubs and everything in between, they hooted and hollered in a wild frenzy. Some were edging forward, as if they were afraid to get too close…or simply still debating over whether they were really going to go through with whatever they planned.

“Necromancer!”

“You’ll never get away with this!”

“Get ‘em, before they eat us!”

The mob surged, weapons level with his eyes. Raz raised his hands in protest, tried to cry out, but found the words caught in his throat. There was gunfire, and something cracked over his head—a bat maybe, he was too stunned to see. They held back as he fell, then closed in once more. A man pushed a torch into his chest, burning—

The vision faded the same way it had come, the faces of the bloodthirsty civilians bubbling and melting away like old film. He glimpsed the nightmare dying in the darkness beyond, screaming, its serpentine body writhing and livid yellow eyes flickering out, having exhausted the last of its psitanium-granted energy. Blinking, he found himself flat on the ground and thoroughly shaken. He put his hands over his eyes and held them for a while, trying to refocus. That had been more than just a simple nightmare like he’d thought, complete fiction. It was if things that had really happened had gone wrong.

“Is that… have you been dealing with these nightmares the whole time?” he asked quietly, sitting up to see Norman was looking worriedly at him.

“Yeah… Not just at night, either. I saw them during the day too. It was almost all I could see sometimes…. I‘m okay with bad dreams. I watch a lot of scary movies, it happens. Sometimes I think I‘ll use the really good ones and make my own movies.”

“Heh, sounds like a good plan. But these aren’t regular bad dreams. They’re like nightmares and hallucinations had a baby, then that baby hooked up with your memories,” Raz figured with his fingers, “then they got married and had a psycho-mutant baby and put it on steroids. And then someone let that baby rampage through your head. Pretty much sums everything up.” He nodded matter-of-factly, folding his arms.

“It was those things messing with me, huh?”

“Yeah. Enough of those coming at you all the time? No wonder you shut down. And someone wanted that…”

“So it really is because of someone else?”

“Yeah. You can’t think you’re supposed to have these mutant nightmares, right?”

“Maybe…No. I’m not, am I? You took that last one, so I know it’s not just me that can see them. And you say they’re not normal… you saw what I’ve been dealing with. So… I’m… I’m not alone, am I?”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!”

“You saw… you took it… you…”

The lightning flared, dazzling Raz’s vision. He tried rubbing it away, but found a weight around his neck. Norman was hugging him.

“Ah, um. Okay,” he stammered, and the boy released him.

“Sorry,” Norman said, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just… having a friend helped me break through. I forgot who I was, and you reminded me. Oh!” He turned to face the tree, bark cleansed of the hypnotic suggestion and branches heavy with leaves. “It’s good to have this back,” he said softly, a relieved smile on his face as his fingers traced the edges of the bark.

Raz was surprised by how soft-spoken he was, considering he’d been explosive just moments ago. “Don’t worry about it. If I finally had my mind back, I’d probably want to hug someone too. You think that was the last of the nightmares?”

“I hope so, at least of the mutant-baby kind,” he smirked, and the two laughed. But then Norman’s face fell. “Everything’s foggy though, the last… two days?” He scrunched his face. “I think I might have hurt my other friends. I—” he choked on his words, eyes wide with panic.

“What? What’s wrong? Another nightmare?”

“Sort of,” he croaked. “Only this one’s real. It‘s—it‘s kind of a long story. There‘s no time!”

“You can tell me a little right? Time passes a bit differently in the mental world, so I think we have some,” Raz shrugged. Besides, he wanted to make sure Norman was really all there. Sometimes it could be hard to tell if things were actually solved right away.

“Um, okay… So, I’m related to a girl who cursed my town three hundred years ago. She could talk to the dead too, but no one knew about her other powers until they killed her. I didn’t think I had them too…. I was hoping I didn’t.” He hugged his arms to his chest, looking troubled.

“So that’s who you were talking about…. Except you’re not dead,” Raz pointed out, and Norman managed a small smile.

“No, but I’m pretty sure she cursed the town before she died, not after. She just got really powerful as a ghost. Anyway, um, there’s this kid who lives here in Gravity Falls. He’s rivals with the Mystery Shack, and wants to take it from my friends any way he can.”

“Including using you, huh? I think I met the guy—short, fat kid with a blue suit and fancy hair?”

“That’s him! What was he doing? Did he say anything about Dipper and Mabel?”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for him. He tried to get me to take something from here, then threw me at you hoping I’d get zapped. I tried questioning him, but he got away and I decided helping you was more important. I don’t know anything about your friends. Sorry,” he replied, and Norman bit his fingernails.

“He’s probably doing the same thing to them as he did to me… minus the ‘unlocking crazy witch powers’ part. We’ve gotta go find them!”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Raz reassured him, “but I’m pretty sure you’re going to need to rest. Let me jump outta here and we’ll see.”

“Okay. Raz… in case I like, drop dead or something… thanks. For not listening to me and sticking around to sort my problems.”

“I’m a Psychonaut. It’s what I do,” Raz grinned, pulling the goggles back on and letting his projection fade and weightlessness take over. He passed the medium’s mental barriers and felt they were weak, but rebuilding, which was good; then felt the comfort of his own mind and body at last. Blinking, he pulled the goggles back to their usual spot on his forehead and went to check on his new friend. He was still curled up against the wall, but his limbs had relaxed and there were no longer waves of emotion pouring from him. In fact, he was sound asleep.

“Heh, guess I could say ‘rest in peace’,” Raz chuckled to himself, but he really was glad Norman seemed to be free of those nightmares. But now two other kids were being driven insane too, by someone who sounded like he didn’t need any help from psitanium to have his own mental issues. He rushed down the stairs, made sure the door was bolted behind him, and with a leap was off rolling again. He crossed town, trying to avoid too much attention by using the side streets, but the people here didn’t seem to bat an eye even when he crossed their path. Maybe between a kid psychic and a tourist trap hawking oddities both natural and manufactured, nothing surprised them anymore.

“Huh.” Raz had worried he’d miss the house, but that was impossible with that giant billboard in the front yard. And now he knew the kid’s name too—he hadn’t even introduced himself earlier. Of course that was the least of Gideon’s offenses and not what Raz found detestable about him. Stepping up to the entry, he debated whether to charge in or go stealth mode on the monstrous little jerk. But his decision was made for him when the door opened.

“Oh, well imagine meetin’ you here, friend,” Gideon drawled, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Cut the act, Gideon. I know what you bought on the black market two weeks ago, and what you’re using it for,” Raz said, poking an accusing finger into the other boy’s chest. “I know you’ve got Norman’s friends in there. You’re going to hand them over, and the meteorite, and no one has to get hurt.”

“Y’sure you don’t want to chat a bit first? Maybe over a cola or somethin’?”

“No way! That’s not gonna work on me, and neither is your little hypnosis trick!”

“We’ll see about that, boy!” Gideon growled, wrapping chunky fingers around his tie. Raz felt something fold around his head and force him to stare into the amulet’s center as it glowed, the turquoise light filling his vision. It felt like his mind was being wrapped in a towel, and something pricked at the edges of his consciousness. But that was as far as Gideon got.

“Why can’t I break through? It worked on the others!” he cried angrily, his concentration wavering just enough for Raz to shake the amulet’s effects and rip it from him.

“No!” Gideon howled, tackling the psychic and knocking him to the ground. Raz got the wind knocked out of him, but he refused to let go of the tie. Gideon tried to pry it from his fingers, but superior hand strength was one of the many traits of an acrobat and he didn’t have much luck. Raz punched him off with his free hand, and the chubby kid rolled onto his back, only to meet Raz’s harsh gaze staring down at him.

“You’re not even a real psychic, are you?”

Gideon shook his head, cowed, then found himself lifted and set on the roof.

“You can hang out there for a while. I’ve gotta clean up your mess,” Raz said with a scowl, then stuck the amulet in his bag and strolled into the ranch house, ignoring Gideon’s shrill protests and threats. Shutting a blaring TV off, Raz listened for Gideon’s captives, but he felt them before he heard them. It wasn’t the same aura of negative emotions as Norman had given off. Actually, it was hard to say what was going on with them; there seemed to be something like a feedback loop muddling his perception. At least he knew where they were now, and headed down the hall.

Opening the door, he found the room was dark but for a luminous purple glow coming from behind two forms slumped back to back in chairs. He darted in, and barely noted the pair were twins before shoving the psitanium in its container and putting it in his bag as well. But they—Norman had said their names were Dipper and Mabel—weren’t out of danger yet. The effects of that much psitanium would take a while to wear off, and by then the damage could already be done.

“Uh,” he started, as he began pulling off the bindings around their feet, “just so you guys know, I’m a friend. I already helped Norman, he’s fine now. I’m gonna take you back home, and then help you, okay? Dipper? Mabel?”

“She’s in sweater town…” Mabel groaned, her face buried in the collar of her sweater, and he stared for a moment before frowning sadly and continuing to untie them. There was no response from her brother, which was a bit more concerning, but he couldn’t afford to waste time guessing what his problem was. Tossing the ropes to the floor, he gently lifted the two with projected hands and maneuvered through the house. Gideon was still swearing oaths from the roof as he exited.

“You’ll rue the day you crossed me, goggles! I’ll put a curse on your whole family! You‘ll—”

Raz abruptly turned and smiled at him serenely. “My family’s already cursed. Thanks though.”

Gideon’s face fell as if he was disappointed someone had beaten him to the punch. Raz spun on his heel and continued on, secretly burning with rage. The Pines remained curled in his telekinetic hold, unaware of anything around them; their rival’s irate shouting fell on deaf ears.

Haha, it's alright, I was just a little confused at first!

And I would but I probably couldn't stick to that either... |D It's mostly just me being lazy and not wanting to do all the html editing, which isn't really hard, just super-time consuming. I'll try to get the next part posted this afternoon though, and it'll be longer than usual. Some art should be coming soon too, so keep an eye out~

Heh, I know it’s not Friday yet, but I missed Tuesday, so here you go! This one’s a bit shorter than usual, I think, but hopefully still good.

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Mystery Kids: Ruse

What's this? Another short fic? Of course! Another silly one, though not for the same reasons as the last one. ^^ And... I guess I'll do summaries now? Summaries are cool.

Summary: When a tourist demands to see the local child psychic, Stan Pines isn't about to let his competition cash in on his customers. He has a solution, but the parties involved aren't entirely pleased...

------

“Dipper! The shelves in back need reorganizing again!” Stan bellowed into the rest of the house, keeping an eye on the bus full of tourists that had just pulled in. There was no reply, and the old man growled to himself, straightening his tie and flipping the eye patch down before heading out to greet his next victi— customers. He’d get the kids to organize merchandise later. With a flash and cloud of smoke, the show began. A well-rehearsed spiel kept folks laughing and spending their money before they had a chance to think about what they were really buying; though he was certain many came specifically for the tourist trap experience. People were weird like that, but hey, it kept his pockets lined with cash. What did he care so long as they kept coming for more?

               “And now, to your left you’ll see— ”

               “Is this where the child psychic lives?” a woman asked, interrupting his line, and for a moment Stan grit his teeth.

               “Please save all questions for the end of the tour,” he replied gruffly, and continued what he’d been in the middle of describing. “As I was saying, over here we have a creature so horrifying, the few who know its name dare not speak it. Ready your cameras folks, this is gonna be good. Behold, the—”

               “I want to see the child psychic! He’s the whole reason I came here, I‘ll leave if I don’t!”

               The grizzled con man stiffened and whirled on the tour group, squinting at the woman who’d interrupted yet again. He thought for a bit, mind racing as he tried to make the most of the situation. He saw the wrinkled flyer in her hand, that pale chubby face winking at him from between her fingers. He wasn’t about to tell her to take her business elsewhere, and especially there.

               “Will any kid psychic do?”

               “Well… I wanted to see this one, but…” She looked at the flyer for a moment, and shrugged. “I guess so.”

               “Anyone else wanna see the kid psychic?”

               There was a cheer from the crowd, and Stan saw something that always warmed his heart— people waving handfuls of money.

               “Very well. I’ll let him know he’s on, and you lovely folks make your way to the gift shop, down that hallway. I’ll be right back.”

               The group seemed agreeable, heading happily to the shop while he went in the other direction. Time to put Raz on the spot, whether he liked it or not. He was some kind of government agent and a performer, he could handle the pressure. The best part was that he wasn’t a fraud, and what better way to one-up the resident ‘child psychic’ than with an actual child psychic? It was perfect.

               “Grunkle Stan, the floor is lava!” Mabel’s shrill voice greeted him as he entered the living room. The floor was actually still forty-year-old carpet and boards, but for some reason the kids he was in charge of were perched in peculiar places. Dipper balanced on the back of the recliner, Norman was on a chair laid on its side, Mabel balanced over the aquarium, and Raz… was clinging to the stonework on the wall?

               “Acrobats,” Stan hissed under his breath, but the young psychic gave him a look. Stan simply returned it, and grabbed him off the wall by his jacket.

               “Hey! We were in the middle of some serious volcano exploring,” Raz protested, and the old man scoffed.

               “Yeah, well I’m in the middle of some serious tourist exploiting, and I need your psychic kid powers.”

               “But I’m not supposed to—”

               “Save it for someone who cares. I just need ya to read some minds and bend a couple spoons, that’s it. And look cute too, I guess. Your competition’s Gideon so it shouldn’t be too hard, am I right? Hah!”

               Raz rolled his eyes. “I might’ve been raised in the circus, but that doesn’t mean you can make me your personal sideshow attraction.”

               “Under my roof, under my rules, kid. Now get out there and give the people what they want or you’re outta here.”

               “Fine,” Raz huffed, and Stan let him walk. Rather than head straight to the gift shop though, they wound through the museum to a platform Stan had at times used to exhibit a ‘pre-teen wolf-boy’ and the ‘question baby’, and would now be the stage for the Shack’s very own child psychic. Pulling some free-standing curtains from one of the other exhibits, Stan set them up and adjusted the spotlights before shoving Raz behind the thick velvet drapes.

               “Okay, I’m gonna get the tourists and you come up with some snappy little song or something. I’ll be back.”

               “But I can’t sing!”

               “You can learn. Now get ready, you’re on in a minute.”

               “Ah jeez,” Raz said with a sigh as Stan hurried off to fetch the group. If he’d been asked to do an impromptu acrobatic gig, he could probably come up with something, but a psychic show? He didn’t know anything about how to put one on. Well, he supposed he knew a little; it was probably a bit like a magic show, minus pulling rabbits out of hats and sawing beautiful ladies in half. Maybe he could just levitate some stuff and the people would be happy. But that wouldn’t be as much fun… and Milla always said to make the most out of any situation you found yourself in. Raz grinned and sped off to where he knew Stan kept spare smoke grenades. Mr. Pines wanted a show? Oh, he’d give him a show alright.

               With the crowd of tourists following dutifully behind him, Stan returned and positioned himself just to the side of the curtain where it’d be most convenient to pull aside. An improvised speech already in mind, he hoped Raz was ready. Eyeing his audience, he noted they at least looked excited for yet another scam. Ironic then that this was the real deal.

               “And now, as requested, I present to you, the Mystery Shack’s own child psychic!” He drew the curtains back, catching for a brief instant that no one was there-- then the stage erupted in a flash and a cloud of smoke before he could storm off to berate the kid for leaving his post. Apparently he knew more about showmanship than he’d let on. As the smoke cleared, a figure slowly came into view, doing the classic psychic stance and goggles obscuring his eyes. The crowd gave a collective ‘ooh’, and Stan knew he was onto something good already.

               “My name is Razputin,” he began in a low voice that held the group captive, and relaxed from his pose. “I know what you’re all thinking-- I can’t really be psychic, I don’t look like a psychic, what’s with the goggles…” He paused to let his words sink in, because they were in fact things the crowd had thought, and the realization seemed to set in as jaws slackened and eyes grew wide. Mind-reading was pretty easy, and how he’d learned he was psychic to begin with; and now, it’d be his main billing. “I am here today to show you, however brief, a glimpse at the power of the mind.” Assuming his pose again and with a little concentration, he lifted a man’s camera out of his loose hands and took a photo of the group with it, then set it back without laying a single finger on it. There was an awed gasp from the rest, then others started waving their cameras and begging him to do the trick again.

               “Don’t you wanna see what else I can do?” he said over the clamoring tourists, and they went still. The answer was of course, yes.

               An hour and about 200 dollars later Raz took a bow, and the show was over. A busload of happy tourists rode into the late afternoon sun, and the Shack was quiet at last. Stan’s eyes practically glittered as he counted up the earnings, and he grabbed the psychic by his helmet before he could walk off.

               “You’re a goldmine kid, a natural. We are gonna go places!”

               “Uh, thanks, but no. I already have a stable, fulfilling career as a Psychonaut.”

               “Yeah, well, you could go into showbiz with what you did on that stage. I might incorporate you into the regular tour. Hmm, have t’ think about that.”

               Raz left the con artist to his ramblings. As much fun as the performance had been— he really did like making people smile and amazing them— he wasn’t so thrilled about it becoming a regular thing. Scamming people was an abuse of his powers, and didn’t sit well with him at all, but there was no convincing Stan otherwise once he had a real moneymaker on his hands. He sensed his friends had moved on from volcano exploring and trudged upstairs to join them.

               “Hey man, how’d it go? Stan can be a real pain,” Dipper said when he entered the room, and he nodded.

               “The actual ‘putting on a show’ thing wasn’t so bad, considering I’ve been performing most of my life. It was kinda fun actually, the people really liked it.”

               “Well duh,” Mabel said, flopping upside-down over the edge of her bed. “You’re only the most amazing psychic ever.”

               “Thank you, thank you,” Raz said, taking another elaborate bow and making the others laugh. “The problem is, Mr. Pines wants me to make it a regular thing now.”

               “Oh…” Dipper said with a grimace.

               “Kids!”

               They collectively flinched at the call, then got up and headed down to see what their guardian wanted, filing into the dining room where Stan had a notebook and an adding machine set up. He was looking quite pleased with himself, and the kids had a sneaking suspicion why.

               “Okay, so I’ve been doin’ some figuring. Raz raked in a pretty good haul, and his act beats Gideon’s by a mile. But then I thought, what’s better than a kid psychic? A kid psychic and a kid medium in a headlining double-act! It’s flawless!”

               “What?!” Norman exclaimed, his jaw dropping in shock. “But— but I can’t do anything!”

               “Sure ya can, you talk to dead people right?”

               “What, you mean like— hold a séance or something? But that’s not how it—”

               “Look, it doesn’t even have to be real. We’ll get you a Ouija board and Raz here can move it around, make the table levitate or something.”

               “Then why not… just have me do it?” Raz suggested, even though he was still against the idea, and the others backed him up.

               “The more mystery at the Mystery Shack the better. In three days you guys are holding your first show. Dipper, Mabel, you guys are in charge of advertising. I want flyers up all over town where people can see ‘em. Raz and Norman, you come up with an act, get some snazzier clothes and names, the whole thing.”

               “Names?”

               “You know, stage names. I guess ‘Razputin’ is alright, but no one’s gonna come see a medium named ‘Norman’. I’m thinkin’… Morty, as in ‘mortician’ or mortuary’. Sort of a play on words, ya get it?”

               Norman got it, but was far from okay with it. But the man’s mind was made up, and he sent them off with their new jobs weighing on them. The whole thing was unfair, but then, Stan wasn’t known for upholding equality or child labor laws.

               “This is ridiculous,” Norman mumbled, hands stuffed in his pockets and looking sullen. “Unless these people have ghosts following them I can’t do anything.”

               “‘Morty the Medium’ sounds like some kind of cutesy puppet guy. He’d be all sad all the time because all his friends are dead, and no one wants to talk to him because he’s all gloomy except for maybe this one other guy who always tries to cheer everyone up,” Mabel rambled, grabbing a notebook and sketching the characters in question before holding them up for everyone to see.

               “Uh…” Norman trailed, narrowing his eyes. “How about no.”

               “I’ve got it!” Dipper sat bolt upright, smiling. “We sabotage it. We make it go so badly no one wants to ever see it again, and Stan has to give up on it.”

               Three days, five mirrors, seventeen feet of fishing line, and two terrible stage names later the tourists left the Shack with pockets still at least half full. Stan couldn’t understand what had gone so horribly wrong. He could’ve sworn he had a superstar on his hands, a ticket to the high life; but now he was forced to watch as the busses and cars pulled away with hardly a case of chintzy knickknacks sold. He looked at the four kids gathered on the museum floor before him and shook his head, thoroughly disappointed.

               “Look, if you’re gonna make something terrible, it has to be so bad it swings right back around to bein’ good. Not whatever you did. Guess that shows me to put you knuckleheads in charge of anything again. Now clean up this mess, I’ve gotta come up with some new, not-terrible exhibit.”

               They watched their cantankerous guardian leave the room and waited until they figured he was beyond earshot to cheer and exchange high-fives, but froze when he stuck his head back through the door and eyed them suspiciously.

               “That doesn’t sound like cleaning to me…” he growled, and the group leapt to work. He watched them for a while longer, then trudged back to the living room to relax now that the business day was over. Undoing his tie and casting off the eyepatch, he leaned back into the recliner, dug out the remote from between the cushions, then paused as something thudded back in the museum and Mabel’s “I’m okay!” rang through the house, which set him thinking. The kids had looked awfully cheerful to be told to clean up the first time…

               “Almost like they were happy not to be doing that show…” he wondered aloud to himself, then shook his head. “Nah. Kids can’t act.”

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 5

And here we come to one of the first parts I changed quite a bit when I decided to rewrite most of the middle; though the story's largely the same, how it's told is a little bit different. Enjoy! ;3

There was a brown truck in the parking lot when Raz finally reached the Mystery Shack, and the door was open. Was someone else trying to rob the place now? He quickened his pace, then noticed the bumper stickers on the vehicle-- all from the Shack. An employee then, and probably someone who could help. Resting the siblings against the side of the building, he knocked on the doorframe before entering. A large man was tidying up the gift shop, and his worried expression changed to surprise when Raz walked in.

“Hey kid, sorry, but we’re not open. I think we got attacked by some kinda animal, like a Bigfoot maybe. Come back later dude,” he said, waving him off and looking apologetic.

“More like a kid named Gideon,” Raz said, and the man looked even more concerned. “Don’t worry, I took care of him. Name’s Raz.” He held out his hand, and the man shook it.

“Soos. So what happened? If Gideon was here, have you seen a couple of twins around? They’re like big-time enemies. I’m supposed to be watching the kids for Mr. Pines, but only one’s upstairs.”

“That’s why I’m here. Gideon hypnotized them, and I wanted to be somewhere safe to snap them out of it.”

“Gideon. And dude, no offense, but you’re like—ten. Don’t you think you should leave it to a professional?”

“Eleven, actually. And sir, I happen to be a professional.” Raz smiled, and showed his official badge as he explained everything. Soos seemed to hang on his every word, made him prove he was psychic by reading his mind and bending a spoon, then helped carry Mabel and Dipper up to their beds. It was obvious he was deeply attached to the two, and he even passed a fretful glace in Norman’s direction.

“Anything else I can do to help?”

“Keep Gideon away from here. I may have stuck him on his roof, but he figured out how to use psitanium as a WMD—a weapon of mental destruction,” Raz instructed, leaving out the part about how WMDs had been a major arc in True Psychic Tales issues 68 through 75. “I think finding a way down probably won’t be too hard for him.”

“Understood. These dudes… they’re gonna be okay, right? They were seriously not good the last few days.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get them back—I promise,” he said resolutely. Soos nodded, then left to continue cleaning up and guarding the Shack.

“Razputin darling? Is everything alright?” Milla suddenly chimed, and Raz homed in on her presence.

“So far so good, Agent Vodello. I managed to help the first kid, he’s resting now. I also got the psitanium back, but there’s two more kids who need my help.”

“Oh no, are they as bad as the first?”

“Almost. But it turns out he’s a medium and had more going on than just psitanium poisoning. But the girl’s gone to her happy place, and her brother… I think he’s catatonic.”

“Okay, just be careful sweetie. I’ll update the others, you go do what you have to.”

“So I’m allowed to help these guys too?”

“Isn’t that what we agreed?” she replied, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Awesome—I mean, good.”

Milla laughed, then let him go. He knew she would have wanted him to help regardless of the rules; she’d always had a soft spot for helping children and couldn’t bear their suffering. But now he had to decide who needed his help most immediately. He could at least ask Mabel if he was welcome in her mind, but catatonia was never a good thing. Maybe that feedback loop could actually be helpful here. Focusing on his telepathy, he felt out who was generating what. He was met by a wall of pain, and recoiled from the sudden onslaught. But once he plowed through that, he found an odd mix—determination, fear, worry, paranoia. Even his own concern was being bounced back at him now.

“So that’s what’s going on,” he muttered aloud, breaking his connection. Since psitanium stimulated the parts of the brain responsible for psychic abilities, it wasn’t uncommon that besides inflicting any variety of mental traumas it could awaken certain powers. The problem was, because these abilities weren’t natural, they were imperfect and uncontrolled. Mabel was taking in the emotions of anyone around her, and without the mental abilities to filter it out had become overwhelmed. Dissociating herself from the real world was a defense mechanism, and possibly meant she’d be relatively easy to help.

Without wasting another moment, Raz got to work. Compared to Norman’s, Mabel’s mental walls were in good shape, but he still slipped past the invisible barriers with ease. His feet sank into some kind of soft ground, and as the world swam into view it was obvious why. He was standing on some kind of hill made entirely of purple yarn, and more in other colors poked out of the one thing that immediately gave him pause—the rest of the landscape was flooded by a bright magenta ocean. In fact, everything was in vibrant colors that almost didn’t work together, including the sky— which was an impossible turquoise that faded to a light green near the horizon. Way out in the distance he could see more hills, and the largest was dominated by a castle straight from a fairy tale. And behind him… was the reason he was here. A huge indigo thunderhead filled the sky, pale pink lightning flickering within it as bands of magenta rain swept down from its leading edge.

“Guess that explains where all the water is from,” Raz said to himself, scratching his head. “Now I just have to figure out how to cross it…”

He looked around carefully and even managed to hop to the next couple of hills peeking out of the ocean, but there was nothing here except yarn and he was pretty sure he couldn’t do much with that. The only other thing he could think to do was call out and see if that got a reaction, but for all its color the land seemed devoid of life. At a loss but unwilling to bail, he sat on the cushiony ground and glared at the ocean, wracking his brain for some kind of solution.

As he watched, a wake rose and cut through the choppy waves, swirling magenta split by a curved blue fin. Warily Raz stood and backed away from the edge as the fin circled the island, a dark form cruising just below the surface before sinking back into the depths. Leaning carefully, he scanned the water’s surface and frowned. At least he knew there was something here after all, but it’d be really nice to know if it was friendly or not.

“Hello?” he said tentatively, putting his hands on his hips. Something round and blue burst above the surface right in front of him and squirted water at him, and he realized it was a dolphin trilling at him from the bank. “Oh. Hey there. Were you… stalking me?”

The dolphin uttered an offended squeak, then cleared its throat and spoke. “No, no! Now why would you say something like that?”

“Well, just how you circled this little island… it was kinda stalker-ish. Anyway, what’s going on in here? I came in to investigate, but I’m sorta lost already.”

“Oh man, it’s been bonkers,” the dolphin moaned, sinking so his mouth was below water and blew bubbles before rising again. “Things were all fine and dandy until maybe a few hours ago. Maybe minutes. I dunno, never could tell time. Anyway, next thing ya know it’s raining cats and dogs, and not literally either, that would’ve been awesome. It flooded the whole place and now everyone’s taking shelter in the castle.”

“Wow, it flooded everything that quickly?” Raz said, looking back at the storm.

“Yep. This little hill you’re standing on?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a tree.”

“Whoa,” Raz gasped, looking at his surroundings with new eyes. “Guess I better help before that new storm moves in. Can I ask you a favor, uh…”

“Aoshima.”

“Aoshima? I need to get to the castle, but I can’t swim. Could you maybe find a boat or something that’ll take me?”

“I’ll carry you, no problem! I was headed out to take that sucker on, but they could definitely use some help at the castle, and it’s not that far. Climb on,” the dolphin instructed, rising to expose his back.

“Oh, um, thing is, I can’t really go in deep water at all,” Raz explained nervously. It wasn’t something he liked to bring up.

“Who said we’d be swimming?” Aoshima said with a wink. “Now climb aboard, I’ve got an appointment with a hurricane. I’ve gotta introduce it to the Knuckle Twins.”

With a dangerous grin, Aoshima pulled a pair of heavily-muscled arms out of the water and clenched his fists eagerly, making mock punches at the cloud looming on the horizon. Raz blinked, shook his head, then simply shrugged and hopped onto the—could he really call it a dolphin if it had big muscleman arms? It probably didn’t matter. He situated himself just behind Aoshima’s dorsal fin and gave his ride a thumbs-up. Aoshima nodded, and with a mighty flick of his tail leapt free of the ocean, his arms extended Superman-style. The yarn island was left behind as they ascended, and Raz wondered if this was what being a master levitator was like.

Flying made for a short trip, and they splashed down just in front of the road leading to the castle gate. Raz leaped onto the multicolored popsicle-stick thoroughfare and bid Aoshima farewell; the imaginary creature saluted him before taking off again, headed directly for the storm. Raz returned the salute before facing his own end of the fight—the most extravagantly pink yet formidable stronghold he’d ever encountered. He contemplated scaling the glitter-encrusted walls, but since asking for help had worked pretty well so far, it didn’t hurt to try again.

“Hello? Gatekeeper?” he called, and was startled when the door ground open as soon as he spoke up. A white unicorn with a mane that cycled through the rainbow and matching dappled spots along its flank poked its head through the gap and scrutinized him. Apparently satisfied with what it saw, it opened the door wider and beckoned him in with a hoof.

“Thanks. Can you tell me where I can find Mabel? I need to talk to her,” Raz asked once the equine had closed and locked the gates. The unicorn gave him a sidelong glance, then tossed its head and pointed across the grounds to the keep with its horn before retreating into the gatehouse-turned-stable.

“Huh. I guess not everything talks in here after all. At least he was still helpful,” Raz said to himself with a shrug, and started off through the grounds.

The town within the walls was quaint, with small houses lining each street and a center square consisting of a tiny park. It wasn’t exactly his style, but it was pleasant nevertheless, and he already had a good sense about the sort of person Mabel was just based on his encounters so far. But things were clearly amiss; though he could tell they were houses, each one was cloaked in a heavy knit cozy that made entry impossible. What he presumed were shops had cutesy stickers saying ‘sorry, we’re closed!’ pasted on their exteriors, and he realized even the flowers lining the streets were just paper cut-outs. Much like Norman’s mind the streets were abandoned, but at least this time there weren’t any malfunctioning censors to worry about. He made his way through town without a hitch, and soon the houses gave way to what could be considered the castle proper. The door to the keep was set into a deep vaulted portico, and as he approached two knights stepped out from niches carved into the glimmering stone walls, their lances crossed.

“No passing!”

“I also say no passing!”

Raz eyed them skeptically. “Look, I don’t want to have to hurt you. I’m here to help, I promise.”

“We have orders of the most rad importance to let no one through!” one of the knights replied, and the other nodded emphatically, dropping his lance and scrambling to pick it up again to point at Raz’s head.

“Yes! Retreat, or we will be forced to use our weapons of ultimate power!”

“Oh boy.” Raz rolled his eyes, not particularly intimidated by the bumbling knights. “Look, I’m a Psychonaut, an authority figure. I’m here to make sure Mabel’s okay.”

“Well we are the authority dudes around here! If you don’t leave, we will be forced to use—” the knight paused to draw a keytar from his back—“the power of music!”

“Excellent intro, bro,” his partner commented, and they bumped fists.

 “Yeah, great, but in case you haven’t noticed, storm’s moving in,” Raz said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the looming clouds. “If we’re gonna go, make it quick.”

“Whoa, dude’s hardcore. Okay, ready Craz?” the knight asked, putting his lance aside and holding his keytar at the ready.

“Always, Zyler!” the other replied, rolling out a synth drum kit from the niche and sticks from his scabbard. Raz blinked incredulously as they started to play a cheesy melody, entirely serious about the showdown. The power of this music was entirely underwhelming, and he wondered if he could simply sneak by. The two certainly seemed oblivious enough for it to work, but the drum kit blocked most of the entrance and made it risky. Maybe they’d just wear themselves out instead.

“It’s not working!” Zyler cried, frantic.

“Play harder!” Craz replied, ramping up the tempo, and his partner hurried to match his pace. Raz simply waited, tapping his foot impatiently until Zyler fumbled his instrument, gauntlet-covered hands too cumbersome to keep up anymore.

“I can’t believe it… not even the power of music can beat this guy…” Craz uttered, arms slack.

“Do you realize what this means?” his partner said fearfully, and without warning the two suddenly clutched to one another.

“We’re doomed!”

“Oh come on!” Raz sighed. “You’re only doomed if that storm gets here and floods the place, not because your music was terrible.”

“Zyler, you know what I just realized?”

“What bro?”

“The dude we just lost to? He’s got a free pass.”

“Whoa, you’re totally right!”

“Huh?” Raz looked at each of them skeptically.

“Your sweater, dude! It’s one hundred-percent Lady Mabelton approved,” Craz explained, removing his helmet and kneeling to point at the psychic’s garment. Raz hadn’t noticed anything, but now that he looked, he was wearing a different sweater under his jacket— it was still green, but had subtler stripes and a cutesy brain with a little smiley face on the front surrounded by the phrase ‘Think Big!’ in multicolored bubble letters stitched onto it. Blinking, he gave Craz a questioning look.

“These helmets are pretty not-rad in the vision department, so we didn’t see your pass,” Zyler explained, following his partner’s example and taking his off.

“So… this thing’s kinda like a passport?” Raz asked, tugging at the chunky yarn.

“Basically. You get one, the lady in charge must think you’re okay,” Craz replied, nodding.

“That would’ve been nice to know before you tried attacking me with bad music,” he said, raising a brow at the would-be knights, who both looked aside. “So… did anyone else try to get in here before me?”

“Yes!” Zyler quickly responded, unusually fierce.

“That dude definitely did not have a sweater either. We found him sneaking around the castle doing stuff,” Craz added, looking disgusted, and Zyler nodded quickly.

“He wasn't impervious to the power of music though,” he said, and the two high-fived.

“Good to know you guys kicked him out,” Raz said approvingly, “but looks like he still managed to mess with things. Listen, I need to talk to Mabel—”

“Lady Mabelton,” Zyler corrected.

“…Lady Mabelton, and find out what’s going on. Can you tell me where she is?”

“Well…” Craz trailed, exchanging looks with his friend.

“She doesn't exactly want to see anyone right now. That’s why we’re guarding the door,” Zyler answered. “We know you’ve got a free pass and stuff, and that’s totally rad, but she’s pretty busy right now and shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“But this is urgent, it—it’ll affect the whole kingdom, and I’m sure the lady cares about her subjects’ welfare, right?” Raz reasoned, and the two scratched their heads.

“Totally,” they agreed in unison.

“So let me in already!”

“Dude makes a good argument,” Craz commented, and his partner nodded. They set their instruments down and pulled the heavy door open to let him pass, and Raz saluted them as he headed in at last.

“Finally,” he muttered as the door shut behind him. He wished the musical showdown had been a real fight, but maybe that was yet to come, and at least those two weren’t entirely useless. If they’d managed to chase Gideon off, maybe things weren’t so dire. For now he’d focus on finding Mabel and getting rid of whatever outside influences he could find.

But that was easier said than done. As he looked up, the keep interior only got more tangled and confusing, and the upper reaches faded into a warm pink haze. For anyone else, it might have been intimidating, but Raz rolled his shoulders and headed in, familiar enough with fairy tales to know that the damsel in distress was generally hidden away in the highest part of the castle.

A staircase ahead seemed to lead directly up, but then turned on its side halfway up and wound around until he was less than a third of the way up, and the walkway ahead spiraled and twisted down again, forcing Raz to reconsider how he was tackling this. At least he didn’t mind exploring, and the keep offered plenty in the way of rooms and galleries full of all the things Mabel loved. One door he found opened overlooking a dance floor, while another room held a petting zoo containing everything from the usual llamas and sheep to tigers, wombats, and even a narwhal. Upon opening, another room buried him in an avalanche of glitter and plastic gems; after struggling to sweep the mess up and shaking himself out, he took a breather. Sitting with his back against the door, he studied the upper reaches to see if he could figure out the right way up. With how much the place twisted around it was easy to lose track—and a crack of nearby thunder didn’t help.

“I hope Aoshima’s doing okay,” Raz mused as he stood and dusted himself off again. “Sounds like he didn’t have much luck fighting that storm off.”

“Nah, but he’s giving it his best shot,” a small voice piped up, and Raz looked down to see a pig dressed in a business suit by his leg.

“Uh… hey there.”

“Ah, you’ve got a pass. Alright, move along,” the pig said, waving him off with a hoof, and Raz made a connection.

“I get it! You’re a censor, aren’t you? I was wondering why I hadn’t seen any around.”

“Yeah, we've been pretty busy, as you can guess,” the pig snuffled, and Raz nodded.

“Yeah. I’m here to help with that. So as long as I have this sweater, we’re cool?”

“That’s how it works. Unless you go wrecking things or being generally mean to the lady. Then we have a problem,” the pig warned, narrowing its little black eyes dangerously.

“I don’t think we’ll have any problems,” Raz said, holding up his hands. “I am kinda having one right now though—how do I see Ma—Lady Mabelton? I can’t find the right way up.”

“Well, she doesn't exactly want to see anyone—”

“I got that, thanks.”

The pig blinked slowly at him, then continued. “As I was saying, she doesn’t want to see anyone, but she might make an exception since you’re wearing a pass. The tower staircase is straight ahead and to your right.”

“Huh. That was easier than I thought. I better get going though, thanks for the help.”

The pig censor waved him off and trotted away, turned, and walked straight up the wall. Raz shrugged and headed on himself, remembering the pig’s instruction and grateful everyone was so helpful in here. Sure enough, at the end of the hall there was a staircase, but as Raz followed its path upwards, things got complicated, twisting so that at some points he was walking upside down, or climbing on the bars of the railing like a ladder. It even looped through a wall and into a room where more pig censors were discussing dinner plans. But at least he was consistently moving up now, and the surroundings were becoming closer, cozier, with walls draped in yarn tapestries and floors carpeted with bright fake furs. It wasn’t like the claustrophobic confines of Norman’s zombie school though—more like an attempt at the close warmth of a hug. The final landing was barely big enough to take a few steps in before it dead-ended into thick knit walls. Raz looked up, grinned, and gave the weave a tug before eagerly taking to it.

One long and cramped climb later, he finally emerged in a round, comfortably sized and furnished room. A shelf with little knickknacks sat near the canopied bed, and a heap of pillows and stuffed animals was stacked to one side. Posters of teen stars plastered glittery purple walls, and strings of lights hung from the ceiling even though a fancy chandelier also lit the space. A variety of cats were scattered around, playing or sleeping, and one came to brush across his legs. Smiling at it, he took off his goggles and bent to pet it briefly. Looking up, he saw Mabel at a window, holding a stuffed tiger and looking over her land with concern. Thunder shook the tower, and as she glanced worriedly around she spotted him.

“Aw man, not another boy in here. Do you want to marry me too?” she huffed, frowning at him.

“Of course not! I actually happen to be taken already. Is that what all this is? Because Gideon wants to marry you?” Raz replied, gesturing to the yarn draped over the windows and storm outside.

“Kinda, but there’s this weird rock stuff he had too. He’s using it to drive us all bonkers…. He’s not still out there is he? I kicked his butt pretty hard, but it still feels all gross, like he’s still lurking like the Creepy McCreep-face he is,” Mabel explained, making a face as she sat on her bed and played with the stuffed tiger’s arms absentmindedly.

“I haven’t seen any signs of him. I guess he didn’t try to do the same thing to you he did to Norman—he didn’t want to talk to me at all, which made getting rid of Gideon’s hypnosis really hard. I’m glad you’re a lot more willing to chat,” Raz answered, walking over, and Mabel scooted over and patted the spot next to her.

“Norman’s quiet anyway,” Mabel said, smiling as she pulled out a thin moss-green scrapbook from under her pillow. “You just gotta know what to talk to him about, see? Zombies are always a favorite, but he’s surprisingly artistic too.”

“Heh, nice, though I gathered the bit about the zombies when I was in his head. So, any ideas how to get rid of the storm outside? Even if Gideon failed to hypnotize you, that’s still kind of a big deal.”

“I don’t feel hypnotized…. So that’s why I've been wanting to act like a chicken!”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s not what Gideon would've done. You said something about him wanting to marry you right? It’d probably be something more like trying to make you fall in love with him. I read this exact thing in a comic book once,” Raz supposed, and they pondered together for a moment.

“Now that I think about it… he did say something about forgetting my dreams to live in his… super gross, am I right?”

“Whoa. You’re right, he is a creep.”

“I know right? He swore vengeance on our whole family and basically won’t leave us alone, ugh. And now he’s doing all this brainwashing stuff, and it’s really freaking me out,” she replied sadly, hugging the stuffed tiger close, and Raz patted her shoulder.

“Man, so he really is as bad as I thought. So… if he wanted you to forget your dreams… how would he do that exactly?”

“Hmm… well, I definitely haven’t been feeling that creative spark, you know? I just can’t think of anything, dreams or otherwise,” she sighed, frustrated, and Raz nodded thoughtfully.

“Creative spark? I mean, the place looks pretty creative to me…”

“Yeah, but that’s all old stuff I already came up with. I like thinking of new stuff, but I just…”

“Not happening, huh?”

Mabel shook her head, foot weakly scuffing the floor. Raz studied her downcast face before clenching his fist and standing.

“Mabel, I’m gonna help get your creativity back. I think Gideon did something to it, and that made everything else kinda fall apart. At least, it didn’t help. Any hints on how to get things going again?”

“Hmm…” Mabel scrunched up her face as she thought, but shook her head.

“That’s okay, I can figure it out. You just stay up here and try to relax,” he consoled her, then headed back to comb through the castle again. As he climbed down, he thought; if he hadn’t come across anything responsible for Mabel’s creativity or what could be blocking it on his way up… then maybe it was somewhere on the lower floors he hadn’t explored. At least heading down would be a lot easier—once he reached the main hall, he simply jumped over a bannister and dropped all the way to the first floor. Finding a set of stairs that lead down, he was disappointed to find a huge room with a wave pool in it. The other doors in the room only opened to closets of pool supplies—nothing helpful. Perplexed, Raz headed back up and stood in the foyer while he scrutinized the upper reaches, trying to think if he’d missed anything. But each room was so distinct he knew he’d been to every one.

“So if it’s not in the castle… then it’s gotta be outside,” he reasoned, turning to the doors and bracing himself for a storm.

Raz’s jaw fell as he stepped out into a very different mental world than the one he’d entered not long ago. Craz and Zyler’s niches were empty, and he hoped it was just because they’d retreated inside— staring out at the town in awe, he wouldn’t blame them.

The rain coming down in sheets may have been magenta, but it was still leaching all the color from the yarn cozies and eating away at the glitter-coated walls, whole layers of the stuff wrinkling and peeling away to expose dull gray stone beneath. The paper flowers had all but disintegrated, and deep puddles were starting to form already. If he didn’t hurry, all of this would become permanent, and he didn’t want to learn what it would mean for Mabel.

Summoning his levitation ball, he sped through town and did a full sweep of the grounds, even poking around the back side of the castle keep where he found a full garden, though all the blooms were closed and the butterflies he found were all huddled under leaves, trying to stay dry. Rolling back into town, he dropped his levitation and sat on the small bench in the park, frustrated and discouraged. Lighting cracked sharply overhead and he flinched, recalling his latest brush with electricity, but he wasn’t allowed to dwell on it as a large dolphin landed on top of him.

Of course it wasn't just any dolphin, it was Aoshima, and he was in rough shape. At first, Raz thought he was unconscious as he lifted him off with telekinesis, but he groaned as he was laid on the ground and his eyes fluttered open.

“I tried but… no power…” he rasped, tail flapping weakly.

“I bet you did great—but it is pretty hard to punch a cloud,” Raz consoled, patting the creature on the head. “Anyway, once I get Mabel’s creativity back I bet you’ll be back at full strength in no time. Only problem is… I can’t seem to find it.”

“So that’s why…” Aoshima said in a hushed tone, frowning. “Mabel believes in the power of love, but it’s her imagination that keeps this place running.”

               “So… it’s like a generator?”

“Almost,” the dolphin grunted, rolling over and heaving himself up on his arms. Raz watched curiously as he crawled over to the fountain at the center of the park, then waved the psychic over. Once Raz was standing at his side, Aoshima gripped the fountain and heaved, throwing his whole body into the effort but chittering angrily if Raz moved to help. The main drum separated from the fountain’s base, and with a roar, Aoshima tossed it aside to leave nothing but a dark hole and an exposed pipe. Panting from his efforts, the dolphin patted Raz on the head before he collapsed and faded away, returning to the raw mental energy he’d formed from.

Raz gaped sadly at where the dolphin had been moments ago, then balled his fists and leapt into the hole, grabbing the pipe and sliding down into the shadows. It went on for quite a while, and gave him time to think. Much like Norman, Mabel was having trouble getting over the Psitanium exposure, which seemed to hint that he’d almost arrived too late. The thought patterns that had arisen out of the mineral’s effects paired with whatever Gideon did were near a state of self-sustainment, and that was what made his mission so urgent. Regular people could trap themselves in similar situations all the time, but this had been given an extra nudge that made it far more serious than most people ever had to worry about… and Raz suspected that was one reason he’d been allowed to break the rules a little.

The pipe finally took a sharp turn into a wall, and a jar of fireflies set into a sconce lit a small landing just below. Dropping down, he surveyed his surroundings; the only hint there was more here than just void was the sound of dripping water echoing everywhere and a tiny square of light far below. Another pipe jutted out of the landing, vanishing into the darkness, and Raz tapped it with his foot. It clanged a little but seemed otherwise solid, so he took a few paces back and thought about how Lili had told him he’d make a great skateboarder once before taking a running start and leaping to give himself enough momentum to start sliding. As the landing went out of reach, Raz hoped he didn’t need that jar of fireflies to see.

After a lot of sliding around an apparently huge room and a few harrowing leaps of faith, the square of light had finally become a doorway and Raz was on the last pipe, headed straight for it. At least friction wasn't a big deal in the mental world; he was pretty sure he should've burned through his shoes by now—certainly in the real world that would be the case. Instead he just felt a little worn out from balancing for so long as he hopped off the pipe onto another simple landing just before the door. The yellow light reflected off several other pipes nearby, all of which seemed to connect to this room.

“Hmm… maybe it’s more like a boiler…” Raz wondered, and stepped in. His guess turned out to be wrong, not that it mattered much. The important thing was that this bizarre, whimsical machine sitting in the middle of the room wasn’t running. A huge sign surrounded by blinking lights on the front named it the Create-o-matic 3000, and there was a keypad and an output slot along with a maintenance panel beneath. He walked around it, ducking under pipes and tubing, but nothing on the outside looked broken or out of place. If only Sasha were here—he was the mechanically inclined out of everyone. Obviously the problem was on the inside.

Clambering through the maintenance panel, Raz was immediately enclosed by the ‘Create-o-matic’s nonsensical inner workings, and in some ways he was relieved to find they were completely made up. Knowledge of actual mechanical principles were useless in here: a team of hamsters turned wheels attached to gears that did nothing, tubes eventually connected to themselves, and Raz seemed to recall electricity had to be made by people—not one of those plasma ball things. But he knew Mabel wasn't one to care about how machines actually worked, just knew that her imagination was a silly one, and right now, it was missing a spark.

Digging through a tangle of wires, he found a missing spark wasn't the only problem. In fact, it was hardly the cause of Mabel’s distress. At the heart of the machine was a funnel where Raz figured on a normal day, Mabel could put ideas in to create new ones—fuel, basically. Only now it was clogged, piled high with merchandise that all featured Gideon’s face.

“Ugh, could this guy get any more selfish?” Raz sneered, pulling a plush of the kid out and examining it with disdain before sticking it in his bag, figuring Mabel would want to see the cause of the problem. Then, focusing on the pile of junk, he thought of the most satisfying way to get rid of it.

The heap burst into tall orange flames, quickly reducing into ash. The machine shuddered, and for a moment Raz wondered if he was safe—he could hear something whining as it warmed up, and the hamsters squeaked as they began running even faster. He hurried out and shut the maintenance hatch just as the Create-o-matic started up, back at full power. Raz pumped his fist and turned to head out of the room only to recall getting out the way he’d come would be impossible, and frowned. Considering his luck before though, simply asking for help just might work.

“Uh, hello? Mabel? I could use a way out of here…” he called, voice echoing around the room as he waited for something to happen.

A giant bubble squeezed out of the doorway behind him, its surface swirling with prismatic color, and wrapped around him. Then it floated up with him inside, and he chuckled while it carried him up through the dark room and out. The storm still loomed overhead, but the rain had slowed to a light sprinkle. He expected the bubble to drop him off in the park, but it kept going, all the way up to the castle tower where Mabel waited on a balcony wearing an eager look.

“My spark’s back! What did you do?” she asked as the bubble landed and burst in a puff of confetti.

“I found this machine clogged with Gideon stuff,” Raz replied, pulling the plush out of his bag, and Mabel recoiled, hissing like a cat.

“Evil! Get that thing out of here!”

“With pleasure. Wanna throw it for me?” he said, holding the loathsome thing out. Mabel took it and hurled the plush as hard as she could, sending it high over the castle. Taking aim, Raz hit it with a psi-blast, and the Gideon plush exploded in a cloud of stuffing and bubbling turquoise energy that evaporated—Gideon’s hypnosis was gone entirely.

“That was awesome!” Mabel cried, tackling him into a hug. “I feel almost one hundred percent me again! Now we just gotta get rid of this storm cloud…”

“Yeah… Aoshima tried to fight it but didn't have much luck. He actually… disappeared trying to help me.”

“Aw, whaaat? We've gotta fix that right away!”

The armed dolphin was instantly beside her on the balcony, and they hugged briefly before turning to face the storm again. Raz was glad to see things could be rectified so quickly— that cloud was probably no match for Mabel at full imaginative capabilities.

“So punching didn't work, huh?” she asked her animal friend, and he nodded severely.

“Nope. Not even a full assault.”

“Hmm… maybe we could blow it away, with like a hairdryer or fan or something,” Mabel wondered.

“I think we’re gonna need something really big and powerful—like really big,” Raz input, and the others nodded.

“Definitely. Umm… I've got it!” Mabel said, grinning broadly.

A shrill roar echoed through the sky, and a shadow passed overhead. Raz looked up to see an enormous dragon, but of course, this was no typical fire-breathing behemoth. Its body was shaped like a hairdryer, with a short, rounded head that blended smoothly into its neck and large circular vents on its shoulders; even its tail tapered into a plug. Coated in gleaming pink plastic scales, it soared on purple wings and gnashed jagged, almost cartoony teeth at the indigo cloud.

“What are you waiting for, Bernadine?! Sic ‘em!” Mabel shouted, and her dragon roared again as it flew at the nebulous menace and unleashed a stream of hot, dry air. The cloud withered under the blast, whole tracts of vapor dissipating as Bernadine systematically swept through until all that was left were a few pathetic puffs, and those evaporated on their own. The trio on the balcony cheered as the dragon gave a victorious bellow, then looped around to join them.

“Excellent work, Bernie. Take five. Actually, you too Aoshima, you’ve worked really hard today. Gold stars for both of you,” Mabel said, patting a gold star sticker on each of their noses and waving her creatures off. They nodded and soared off together, and the two watched them vanish into the sky.

“So… feeling better?” Raz asked, and found his feet leaving the ground as Mabel squeezed him in a bear hug.

“So much! Creepy ‘I-might-actually-love-Gideon’ thoughts are gone and the muse is back! I’m gonna make so much stuff now, it’ll be great.”

“Awesome. Well, I’m off to help your brother. Let me know if you need anything,” Raz said, but paused as Mabel frowned.

“I can’t believe I forgot about my brother… he’s in trouble too!” she cried, grabbling him by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “We’ve gotta save him Raz!”

“I know, don’t worry. You just rest,” he managed to say through being rattled around, and she seemed to calm down.

“Okay. It’s just, Gideon hypnotized him first, and I could feel what happened to him the whole time. He’s always been kind of paranoid, but Gideon made it like, a gazillion times worse, and the rock stuff was already giving him a killer headache…. I don’t want him to be stuck like that,” she explained sadly, twisting a bit of hair in her hands.

“I could kinda tell that’s what was going on… but don’t worry, I’ve helped people in a lot worse shape. He shouldn’t be too bad,” Raz replied with a smile.

“I hope so…” Mabel trailed, biting her lip.

“C’mon, we just got over being sad. Once I get your brother fixed up, I promise we’ll all go kick Gideon’s real-world butt, okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Mabel giggled, brightening at the prospect. “Sorry, it’s just, he’s my twin. I can’t help but worry about him sometimes. Thanks Raz.”

He returned her smile, then let his presence in her mind fade. Stretching, he pulled the goggles off for a moment and let his eyes adjust to a world that wasn’t full of neon color. Mabel’s mental world reminded him a lot of Milla’s, and for a moment he wondered how the two would get along if they ever met—famously, no doubt. He’d have to introduce them when this was all over. At least he seemed to be getting close; turning to Dipper, he realized the room felt quieter—the empathy loop had broken at last. There was just one more thing to do and then Gideon would get what he deserved. Raz cracked his knuckles and put his goggles on for what would hopefully be the last time today, and got to work.

--------

Norman woke, parched and a little dizzy. He was still exhausted, but at least the sensation of his mind tearing itself apart was gone. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up to see the kid he thought maybe he’d only imagined seated between the twins’ beds, deep in concentration. It was good to see he’d kept his word, but Norman couldn’t help but still be worried for his friends. Seeing them unconscious, limp…. He frowned, hugging his arms to his shoulders and heading downstairs, convincing himself they’d be alright. After all, Raz had helped him. From what few snatches he remembered, he’d been in pretty serious trouble. Lightning flashed through his thoughts, and he grimaced, wishing he was only remembering Aggie.

“Dude, you’re alive!” Soos cried when he noticed him come down the stairs, and lifted him in a giant hug. “How’re our other dudes doing?”

“I… I dunno,” Norman gasped, and Soos released him. “I think they’re okay though. Or they will be, Raz isn’t done yet.” He shrugged, but Soos nodded solemnly.

“A master at work. Check out this spoon he bent with his awesome psychic powers!” Soos pulled the utensil from a pocket, and Norman admitted it was kind of impressive how it was folded almost in half. But a creeping lightheadedness told him he had more pressing things to consider. Maybe there was something to his grandma’s favorite medical dramas after all.

“Cool. But I got up because I’m pretty sure I’m dehydrated.”

“On it!” Soos saluted, and hurried to get him something to drink, even if he could have done it himself. Taking a seat in the worn chair in the living room, he leaned back and rested, trying not to think about his friends or the pounding in his ears. The house seemed weirdly quiet too, even with Soos messing around in the kitchen, and he knew it was missing the people that gave it life.

“Okay dude, figured water would be best,” Soos said, pushing a glass into his hand. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for Gideon; little guy hasn’t shown his mug yet but I bet he will soon. Heh, Raz stuck him on his roof. Bought us a few hours so far,” the handyman explained while Norman enjoyed what seemed like the best-tasting water he’d ever had.

“Maybe he’ll leave us alone,” Norman muttered into his drink, but knew he was wrong. He just wanted to be able to catch up on all the sleep he’d been forced to miss, that they’d all missed. At least what he’d gotten so far was solid and dreamless— what his grandma would probably call a dead sleep. He chuckled to himself, then finished the water off and let Soos take the glass when he headed back upstairs. Nothing had changed in his absence, and he desperately wanted to know how things were going, but Raz was probably hard at work and shouldn’t be bothered. All he could do was stretch out on his sleeping bag and hope Soos could keep them all safe.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 8

Continuing on, you're in for plenty more action as things start to wrap up. :3

It took about two seconds for Norman to realize the loud thump that had woken him up wasn’t Mabel falling out of bed again. No, that powder blue suit and the darker form prone on the floor next to it immediately ruled that out. Gideon had gotten in. He wanted to move, shout, anything, but instinct kept him frozen as he watched him plunder Raz’s backpack. The psychic was twisted awkwardly onto his front, not seated like he’d been before, and it wasn’t hard to imagine how he’d come to rest this way. Gideon chuckled to himself as he found what he was looking for, and turned to leave. Doing the only thing he could think of, Norman leapt and raced to the door, arms spread wide in an attempt to prevent Gideon’s passage.

“Outta my way, witch boy!” Gideon snarled, but Norman returned the sneer.

“No! You’ve caused too much trouble to just let you go! And Aggie wasn’t a witch and neither am I,” he said, fuming now.

“I beg to differ. You have power beyond even your own understandin’. With you I could bring this town to its knees and then some! I almost had you too, you don’t think I can do it again?” Gideon replied with a wicked grin, withdrawing both amulet and psitanium from his pockets and advancing on him. Norman shrank against the door, then found his resolve and launched himself at his tormentor. If he was going down, it’d be with a fight, but he never got the chance.

Mabel woke to the commotion just in time to see Norman flung against a wall and a pale blue blur vanish down the stairs with a terrible cackle. Leaping from her bed, she tried to give chase but tripped over the psychic still sprawled on the floor. Norman hurried over to help despite nursing his own bruises, and together they turned Raz over to try and rouse him. Luckily the movement alone seemed enough—he stirred with a groan and fumbled with his goggles before Mabel lent him a hand.

“Ah… ow,” he winced, sitting up and gingerly feeling out the back of his head. “What… what am I doing here?”

“Weren't you helping Dipper with his crazy?” Mabel grinned, and Raz squinted at her.

“Yeah, but I should still be…. Wait, did someone hit me?” He glanced around frowning, and the two exchanged looks before nodding and replying together.

“Gideon.”

“He—okay, not only did he get in, he hit me while I was projecting?” Raz said incredulously, putting a hand to his face in disbelief. “He hit me while—does he have any idea what could’ve happened to me?!”

“That jerkface probably wouldn't even care,” Mabel huffed, “and he got away.”

“With… his stuff. He still wants to use me to hurt people,” Norman added somberly, and received a sympathetic pat from Mabel while Raz scowled.

“Okay. Now he’s gonna wish what could’ve happened did.”

“Is Dipper gonna be okay? It probably wasn’t good for him you got clobbered either, right?” Mabel asked, looking worriedly over to her brother, who was still out cold.

“I’m not sure. I think we were pretty much done though, so he should be alright. I might go back and check later though just to be sure.”

“Hmm… then can I do… this?!” She reached out and began tickling her sibling, eliciting a startled yell as he sat bolt upright, arms flailing to ward off his attacker. Mabel squealed happily and wrapped her brother in one of her infamously tight hugs. He started to protest, complaining about looking uncool in front of his friends, but she let go before he could finish. She leapt to her feet and struck a pose.

“Okay boys! Gideon’s gotta pay! Let’s get that stuff back before he can do more evilly-plotty things with it! Dipper, see if there’s anything in the Book that can help. Raz, you’re in charge of all things psychic-y like helping me find my grappling hook. Norman, uh… summon the ghosts?”

“But I can’t—”

“We’ll figure it out. Move people!”

Despite general exhaustion from their ordeal and the blows more recently dealt by their enemy, with Mabel as cheerleader the four got to work. Rest could come later—they’d already been out of commission long enough. If Gideon was plotting anew they had to be just as cunning, ready for whatever he had in store. Once everything was in order, they charged downstairs and discovered how Gideon had managed to get in—Soos was dozing in front of a TV with the volume turned up. At least nothing more had happened to him.

“Man, I ask him to guard the place and he falls asleep?” Raz sighed, and she elbowed him hard in the side.

“No talking about Soos like that! Come on!”

“Okay, okay! But I’m still gonna talk to him later.”

They left the handyman to his nap; every moment they dawdled was a moment Gideon got to plot. Venturing outside, they couldn’t find any sign of the little pest—at least until Dipper spotted a swath of destruction leading into the forest. Bushes were flattened and trees pushed aside like something much larger had bowled through. No doubt Gideon had used the amulet to force his way in either his haste to escape or as part of a trap. There was no way to tell from here, and knowing his penchant for gloating, even if it was a trap it’d be the easiest way to find him, so down the path of destruction it was.

The trail narrowed the further on they went, and Raz felt a growing sense of déjà vu as the trees closed in and cast the undergrowth in a dull green gloom. Though Dipper’s mindscape was clearly not entirely imagined, he hoped the likelihood of monster encounters was. But their main concern was the trail, and not only did it narrow, it vanished completely once the group entered a small clearing.

“Great. Now what?” Raz asked, folding his arms.

“You’re psychic, can’t you maybe… see where he is right now, or something like that?” Dipper replied, and he shrugged.

“Maybe if I had something of his. I still have to do a lot of training before I can find people just by thinking about them—well, ones I haven’t already made a link to anyway.”

“Then we need a different plan.”

“Dipper, you’re not gonna make one of those crazy-complicated list things again are you?”

“What? No, there’s no time for that. Fan out, there might be tracks we can’t see somewhere. Yell if you see anything suspicious.”

They poked around in the underbrush but turned up nothing. It was like Gideon hadn’t come this way at all, and they’d picked up a false trail instead and gotten lost. The group exchanged uncertain looks before turning to scan the forest anxiously. Maybe this was a trap? It just seemed so… quiet.

Mabel yelled as she was lifted into the air by an unseen force while trees crashed down around the boys. Raz did his best to either bash the heavy boughs away or directly shield his friends while Gideon cackled somewhere nearby, hidden in the thick brush. Sensing his friends were alright for now, the psychic descended on the undergrowth, throwing punches blindly until he was rewarded with a startled cry. But a wall of sheer telekinetic power crashed into him and sent him into the leaf litter, winding him as Gideon made his escape once more. In the newly expanded clearing, Dipper and Norman helped untangle Mabel from the bush she’d fallen into. It’d cushioned the drop when Raz’s punching had rattled Gideon’s hold on her, but not without ensnaring itself in her hair, and together all three worked to free her. They succeeded just as Raz emerged from the forest, and for a moment they regrouped.

“Okay, I don’t think he’s always been this strong,” the psychic panted, still recovering from the attack.

“That doesn't make any sense. How can he be stronger? That rock stuff should be affecting him too right?” Dipper said, and Raz frowned.

“It’s called psitanium, and that’s what you would think, especially since he’s not a real psychic…. But he’s still getting boosted as if he was…”

“Boosted? What?”

“Yeah—psitanium isn't good for regular people, but it actually helps psychics a lot. Maybe that amulet is protecting him from the bad effects and giving him the good.”

“If that’s the case, we better get going.”

No argument there, so they headed off once more down the newly formed path at full speed, hoping to catch up with the monster of a child. This time, it remained clear all the way to a rock outcrop that rose from the valley floor and continued into the mountains that surrounded Gravity Falls. Weaving around weathered boulders that grew in size as they went on, the trail continued into a v-shaped ravine that split the rock face in two. It was in there they found Gideon standing on a ledge some fifteen feet above their heads, waiting for them with both amulet and psitanium at the ready.

“Well, here we are. It seems you’ve cornered me,” he moaned with false disappointment. No one was impressed by his acting.

“Give it up, Gideon! You’re not defenseless, but neither are we!” Dipper yelled, but the fake psychic tutted.

“Dipper Pines, always the confident one. Who said anythin’ about needin’ defenses? I think we can do things amicably, don’t you?”

“For one, you swore vengeance on our whole family. So no, I don’t think we can,” Dipper replied, glaring and folding his arms as their enemy shook his head.

“Look, I don’t know everything that happened between you guys,” Raz cut in, “but you bought stolen goods on the black market, used it to drive three people insane, and assaulted a government agent. Hand the psitanium and amulet over and I promise I won’t beat you into a pulp for that.”

“Government…. When’d I do that?” Gideon asked, genuinely confused before he regained control of the conversation. “Nevermind! I’ll do it as long as I get somethin’ in return, somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ for far too long.”

“The deal was that you don’t get beat up in exchange,” Raz shot, narrowing his eyes as he clenched a fist.

“Can we uh, not beat anyone up?” Norman put forward, and the others looked at him skeptically. He pulled a face, then looked up at Gideon with what seemed to be determination. “What do you want so badly you’d hurt people to get? So badly… you’d make me hurt some of the best friends I’ve ever had just to get it?”

“Why,” Gideon chuckled, “y’all haven’t figured it out yet?”

“I told you I’m not gonna date you again!” Mabel cried, and for a moment their enemy looked sad.

“I know that, darlin’… but there’s more than that! I want power, in all its forms! This amulet, Norman, anything—but especially what secrets the Mystery Shack contains! And I’ll have it too, no matter who stands in my way.”

The twins exchanged looks and burst out laughing. Gideon spluttered orders to know what was so funny while Raz and Norman silently wondered the same. It was Mabel who finally put them out of their misery.

“Oh man, you don’t seriously think there’s some magicky ‘thing of all power’ in there do you?”

“Have you even been in the Shack? It’s got nothing but dust and hoaxes, and maybe one legitimate oddity in the whole building!” Dipper added with a chuckle.

“Lies! I know there’s somethin’ in there, and you’re gonna give it to me!” Gideon shrieked. Raz scoffed and let his arms drop from where they’d been folded on his chest.

“Look, we’re not getting anywhere like this. Just hand the stuff over already!”

“Never!”

“Then you asked for this!” Raz shouted as he charged forward, aiming to vault up the rugged sides of the canyon. Something caught his boot and sent him face-first into the leaf mold before he could even make the first jump though, and then found himself hoisted upside-down by the ankle to Gideon’s side. Once in a telekinetic hold it was very hard to break free, even for a strong psychic like him, but regardless he struggled against the poser’s grip until a blanket of energy restrained him. The pricking sensation at the edges of his mind made a return as Gideon tried to get in once more, to no avail even with a two-pound chunk of psitanium aiding him. At least that would reassure his friends, whose collective worry was quite easy to sense.

“Heh, nice try, but even top-level Psychonauts could get into my head, and that was before I had any training. So you’re not getting in.” He folded his arms and gave the most smug grin he could muster. Gideon’s face burnt red as he howled in rage and flung Raz into the trees above—not that he had any problems with that either. Latching onto a bough, he used his momentum to twist around it and right himself before giving his friends below a wave, which only seemed to infuriate Gideon more.

“Fine! Take your thick-headed circus freak back. I know somethin’ else I can do!” he cried, beady eyes resting on Norman.

A pop rang out, and Gideon’s carefully sculpted pompadour was interrupted by a craftily aimed grappling hook. He practically screeched while he wrestled with the tines now lodged in untold layers of hairspray, any thoughts of wrongdoing postponed by his vanity. Dipper patted his sister on the back; the satisfied grin on her face said it all. Using the distraction, Raz leapt from the tree, landed safely, and vanished before Gideon could react. If he’d been smarter maybe he’d have done it this way in the first place, but no time for second-guessing now. Only a few more steps, and he’d be able to snatch the amulet. Gideon was still struggling with the hook, so if he was quick this would all be over in just a—okay, maybe in a few more seconds. He was forced to wait as his target turned away, almost free now.

“Mabel, why don’t you retract it already?” Dipper urged quietly, and she frowned, hugging the grappling hook a little closer.

“I know he’s an evil jerk and all, but I don’t wanna pull him to his death or anything.”

“I bet Raz can catch him, and besides, if you don’t, Norman’s gonna be toast!”

“Don’t… don’t say it like that,” Norman interjected, giving his friend a withering look. Dipper grimaced—he hadn’t been thinking. There’d be time to apologize later.

Back on the ledge, Raz still hadn't spotted an opening, and his energy was wearing thin. Maybe stealth just wasn’t his thing, but hesitating to do what was right wasn’t either. As Gideon finally rid himself of the hook, Raz dropped his invisibility and lunged for the amulet. His fingers brushed the turquoise stone for an instant before Gideon’s reflexive jump back took it out of reach. For a moment they almost danced, trying to predict the other’s next move and faking his own before Raz lunged in again. His feet were pulled out from under him, and though he caught the edge before he could tumble over, it was not his voice that cried out as Gideon pressed a polished shoe to his fingers, an entirely unpleasant grin spread across his features.

“An’ t’ think I was nearly outwitted. You’ve given me no other recourse but t’ do this!” His gaze shifted to the group, and Raz twisted so see what the situation was. He’d be lying to himself if he’d said he was surprised to see Norman suspended over the twins and looking distressed. Unable to run or fight, it seemed he’d simply given up—his shoulders sagged, arms limp at his sides as he waited for whatever Gideon would inflict on him. Raz did his best to send him some positive wavelengths before turning to deal with the enemy.

But Gideon was in charge, and wasn't about to let that change. Noticing Raz’s determined glare, he picked the psychic up again and pulled both he and Norman over to where he stood, unleashing a wicked chuckle that bounced on the ravine walls and did nothing for anyone’s nerves. As far as he was concerned, the two most dangerous people in the group were in his control, and there was nothing the Pines could do about it. Oh, they’d tried—Mabel’s little grappling hook stunt had certainly been innovative, but he was expecting it now, and he doubted Dipper had anything like that up his sleeve.

“So now that I have your most threatening allies in my thrall… how about we take a look at the Shack, shall we?” he cooed. “Or do ya need more encouragement?”

“Gideon… you know this is wrong,” Norman pleaded, apparently finding the courage to speak. “I don’t know why you want all this, but there’s gotta be a better way than hurting people to get it.”

“When you find it, you tell me, ghost boy,” Gideon snarled, “Now enough o’ that sentimental stuff. Artifacts of ultimate power, now.”

Dipper sighed; after all their efforts they were still at a standoff. Actually, it seemed they’d made things worse—at least earlier Gideon hadn’t had any hostages. That amulet, plus the power it drew from the psitanium, made pretty much anything he thought of impossible. They had to get him with his guard down, but when would that happen? They’d tangled enough times now to know Gideon would be suspicious of anything. The only thing that might pacify him for the time being was tucked into his vest, and while he didn't want to give that up just yet, it might be the only thing that could save them.

Don’t do it.

Raz’s voice echoed in his head, and he gave the psychic a confused look. While he was in Gideon’s hold, he appeared to be meditating, though he opened his eyes long enough to give the Pines a wink that went unnoticed by their enemy. It seemed he had a plan, something Dipper was more than okay with as he was drawing a blank.

Can you distract him? I’ve gotta talk to Norman for a bit.

“Yeah,” Dipper answered, though no one but Raz knew exactly who he was talking to. “Yeah, we’ll take you to the Shack. Come on.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Gideon said with a grin, floating himself down to the ravine floor and strolling over leisurely.

“What are you doing?” Mabel said in a panicked whisper, and her brother gave her a nudge.

“It’s okay, Raz’s got us covered… at least I think he does. Let’s split up.”

She nodded, a spark returning to her eyes. They waited for Gideon to join them, then headed for the entrance—and charged off in opposite directions with a joint laugh, forcing Gideon to choose one to chase.

Watching them disappear into the undergrowth, he muttered insults, not caring if their friends heard him or not. They weren’t really people in his eyes anyway, merely the means to an end—tools. Puffing with rage, he eventually chose to go after Dipper, the one who might actually know something useful. He’d find Mabel and rescue her from these woods once he’d dealt with him.

On the extrasensory side of things, Raz was hard at work. They weren’t as well-developed as his, and still not at full strength, but Norman’s mental walls were impressively tough. Working through them was slow, and he hoped Dipper was good at evasion; otherwise he might not get a chance to put his plan into action. When he did make it through, he barely took a moment to note he was on the far edge of the ghost town and that the scenery was much more cheerful before calling Norman.

“Yeah? Wait, what are you doing here?” the medium answered promptly, appearing just behind Raz’s shoulder. He certainly was attentive, Raz gave him that, but the appearing out of nowhere was… kinda unsettling. Though why that was a surprise knowing his background in horror movies, Raz wasn’t sure.

“Okay, we've gotta work together on this one. I did some investigating, and that amulet’s aura isn’t regular psychic energy. It’s a lot… harsher, I guess is the best way to describe it, especially beefed up on psitanium. It means I can’t do a whole lot when we’re wrapped up in it like this—I can’t even set him on fire,” Raz explained, and Norman gave him a bemused look.

“So… what do I do?”

“Okay, this is gonna be one of those things that sounds like a really bad idea, but I think it’ll work.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“I know, but hear me out. Psitanium eventually runs out of energy, and guess who’s been using it a lot? Well, I can tap into it too, even though the amulet’s taking most of it right now. I can change that once I’ve got a hold on it, so that’s not really a problem.”

“Well, that’s good. But… there’s more, isn‘t there?”

“Yeah. I can’t use enough of the psitanium’s energy to wear it out on my own, so… I’m gonna need a partner. Don’t worry!” He gave a start, staving off the worry that flashed across Norman’s face. “This isn’t—it won’t be like before. I’m gonna use a trick I learned from my dad, sorta.” He flashed a grin at the medium, who was still staring at him warily.

“What are you even saying?”

“This might sound a little crazy, but I’m gonna siphon off the psitanium energy right? But then, the cool part is that I’m gonna give that energy to you and help you channel it without any of the bad side effects. I could feel it when I got hit; your energy is different from mine—like really different—so it should break through. Got it?”

“Wait, so…. But…. No way! That whole thing is bad! It’s losing control, it’s—” Norman struggled to find the right words, and Raz put a hand on his shoulder. He calmed down a bit, but still looked betrayed. “It’s forgetting who you are… and it hurts. A lot.”

“I know that’s what it was before, and I’d never ask you to go through that again. But otherwise we’re stuck with Gideon, and I don’t think he’s gonna ask.”

Norman thought for a while before giving a small nod, looking to the town. “I think… he’d kill me just to get what he wants out of me. And then it might not even—I’d never want to—”

“Let’s not think about that,” Raz interrupted, “Try to focus on right now. Dipper and Mabel can only keep him busy for so long before it‘s up to us. Think you can do it?”

“Can you promise… I’m not gonna lose myself?” Norman said, looking up and giving the psychic a piercing gaze.

“…Yeah,” he replied, holding out his hand with a smile, and they shook on it. “I didn’t promise this was going be easy though, so bear with me. And look out for censors—I’m gonna have to stay in here, and they‘re not going to like that.”

Norman nodded again, and watched as Raz shut his eyes in concentration before turning to keep an eye on the town. He steeled his nerves for whatever might happen, reasoning with himself that it was this way or something far worse, that he wouldn’t be alone this time and he’d be doing something good. And if these abilities ran in the family… then they were part of him too, just like everything else, and he’d accepted that. There’d be time to truly come to terms with it later, but right now, his friends were what was important.

“Okay, Gideon’s still chasing after the twins—he doesn't suspect anything. Ready?”

“I… I guess so.”

“Don’t worry Norman—when I’m not on missions like this, I help other psychic kids with their powers at a summer camp. I’ll help direct the energy where it needs to go, so you’ll be fine.”

“I really hope you’re right.”

-------- 

Dipper had stopped to catch his breath between the massive roots of a redwood and tried to shake the sense of déjà vu while getting his bearings. Hopefully whatever Raz had planned wouldn’t take much longer—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep running. He heart leapt as rustling suddenly came from the bushes nearby, and he ducked behind one of the larger gnarls, squeezing into the smallest shape possible. He’d lost Gideon somewhere a while ago, but without bothering to cover his tracks he was probably easy to follow. As footsteps approached, his only wish was that Mabel had gotten away.

“Hey bro, it’s me.” A hand came down and ruffled his head, and he looked up to see his sister peering over the top of the root, much to his relief.

“Any sign of Gideon? If Raz’s plan had worked I think we’d have seen them by now.”

“Uh-uh,” Mabel replied sadly, and he stroked his chin.

“Then we've gotta find him somehow, but I think I know what we can do to trip him up.”

“I think I know where this is going, and I like it.”

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Opening

This is the first Mystery Kids fanfic I not only wrote, but completed. It went untitled for a very long time, and I'm afraid the name's still not very creative, but it's better than nothing. 

I wish the formatting was a little more like an actual book, but with the text on this theme pretty small it may be easier to leave it at the default for now. Anyway, you probably want a summary. :3

Everything seems great in Gravity Falls. There's always something going on to keep young mystery hunters busy, especially when their nemesis procures a mind-altering mineral and uses it against them. Lucky for them, a young Psychonaut-- the youngest ever, in fact-- is on the case.

--------

The package was small, about the size of a tissue box and unassuming. It arrived with a plop on the doorstep midmorning, then was promptly squirreled away from prying eyes and hurried to a secluded back room. Stubby fingers pulled the packaging eagerly apart, and a gently shimmering violet glow lit the boy’s pale features. He poured over the substance greedily, its power safely contained in an insulating glass case, picturing what he might do with it now that it was his. There was so much…

Patience, that’s what I need. Play my cards right and everything will be mine without a fuss at all.

 -------- 

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh…. No, I wouldn’t worry about it. No really! You’re dead, you don’t have to worry about it. Oh, alright,” Norman gave a resigned sigh. “I promise we’ll make sure the well hasn’t been poisoned. Can you rest easy now?”

The pioneer ghost he was talking to nodded, looking content as it slowly dissolved into wisps of light and disappeared. That was the third ghost he’d helped this week, some kind of record he supposed. He turned to his two cohorts and grinned, indicating his success.

 “Yeah! Another point for Norman!” Mabel cheered, and her brother laughed.

“What, we’re keeping score? He’s the only one who can play.”

“Yeah yeah,” she said, giggling. “So who was this guy? Some kind of old-timey plumber or something?”

“More like a cowboy. He wanted me to warn everyone the well might be poisoned,” Norman explained as they turned to walk back through town.

“That was really his last wish?” Dipper asked, looking skeptical, and his friend nodded.

“Those kind of things were a lot more important back then,” he replied with a shrug. “If no one knew their water was bad the whole town might die. How was he supposed to know that wouldn’t happen?”

“Hey, if we meet that time-travel guy again we could go back and tell him,” Mabel suggested, and the two boys chuckled.

Norman only knew of most of the twins’ bizarre adventures secondhand of course, the rest having happened in the few days he’d spent in Gravity Falls. Some had been instigated by the ghosts he’d met around town, others from the pages of the weird book Dipper always carried around, and others still simply appeared out of nowhere. They’d taken advantage of one mystery in particular-- he was only out here with the twins now because a paper clone had gone home with his family. The pains of parting with new friends made on a vacation were craftily avoided, and as far as he knew the rest of the Babcocks suspected nothing. If he was brutally honest, his family weren’t the most attentive… and for now that was fine with him. Though he missed Neil, he was with his kind of people for once.

“You think Stan would let us rent another zombie movie tonight?” Mabel wondered aloud, twirling on her heel. She’d been on a horror movie kick ever since Norman had arrived and introduced her to some of his favorites, and the cheesier the better.

“Haven’t we exhausted the video store’s selection already?” Dipper replied, frowning. He refused to admit all but the worst of even the cheesy movies scared him, and Mabel knew all about it. Since the Journal listed zombies, half those films were automatically that much more plausible no matter how terrible the rubber-masked villains and corn syrup blood got. Of course he was tired of them, and wasn’t quite sure how his sister and Norman continued to put up with them. There were only so many ways a zombie’s head could get chopped off before it got old, right? He could already feel his sister’s sly little smirk, and knew some snide comment was incoming.

“What, worried the mondo-mutant from ‘Space Zombies 4’ is gonna come after you again?”

“I realize that was a dream, okay!? A dream!” he spluttered, glaring at his sister, who only chuckled at him. “Look, can’t we just rent like, an action movie? ‘Nebraska Bones’ or something.”

“Aw Dipper, you watch that all the time at home. I wanna see some crazy zombie-mashing action!”

Norman laughed to himself while the twins argued. They’d inevitably get it sorted out, and even though zombie movies were his favorite he didn’t mind the odd action movie either. Back home, Neil liked to watch cute animal movies, and some of those got to be pretty awful too, but as long as he was with friends it wasn‘t so bad. Ultimately it’d be up to the man paying for the movie anyway; as much as Grunkle Stan liked the fact movies kept the kids quiet he loved his money more. It was likely they’d just be playing out their own undead invasion that night.

Home base for the trio soon poked through the dense forest, garish signs every few feet ensuring no tourist could pass the Mystery Shack by. Stan was occupied with giving a tour, so the kids took the back entrance and headed for the living room. They’d ask him about the movie later; for now, whatever was on TV would have to do, and after that a round of videogames. For all its mysteries, if something strange wasn’t happening, Gravity Falls lived up to its ‘sleepy little town’ reputation.

The upshot to this ‘sleepy little town’ was that no one seemed to care that Norman often spoke to nothing. Everyone knew the town had its share of odd characters who also had their charms, and he was simply the latest in such a trend. Blithe Hollow still wasn’t sure what to make of him even after he’d saved it, and plenty of people didn’t want to talk about what had happened that night. Here in Gravity Falls, no one knew anything about it, and that afforded him a certain amount of freedom. Most people didn’t even know his name.

So when an envelope with ‘Norman’ neatly penned on it arrived with the rest of the mail that afternoon, it was definitely strange, and the letter inside it even more perplexing. Cordially written, it requested a private interview with him about his ‘gift’. There was no return address or initials, only a time and place to meet.

He’d think about it more later, but for the moment he stuffed it in his pocket and went back to where the twins were trying to decode one of the Book’s many ciphers. He couldn’t say he was much good at it, but Dipper was certain between the three of them they could figure it out. They didn’t have the key though, and without that vital part it was unlikely they’d crack it no matter how many minds were on the case. It wasn’t one of Trembley’s ‘silliness puzzles’ either, so that pretty much ruled out anything Mabel had to say too. Eventually even Dipper had to admit defeat.

It was times like these when the three tended to separate. Not because they were mad at one another or anything, but even twins needed time apart, and though he wasn’t quite so introverted anymore Norman still liked being able to hear himself think. With the Mystery Shack closed for the evening, things were especially peaceful, and wandering outside where the air was still and light slanted through the trees was refreshing. He knew to keep close to the Shack; besides the numerous mystical threats of the forest there were also more natural things like bears and cougars to worry about. No, he was content to sit on the steps or listen to the parking lot gravel crunch under his shoes. Sitting on one of the logs that served as a curb, a crinkling from his pocket reminded him of the letter, and he pulled it out to read it again.

“Whatcha got there?” Mabel said next to Norman’s ear, and he nearly fell from his seat. For all her loud tendencies, she had the strange ability to sneak up on people. “A secret admirer maybe?” She fluttered her eyelids, then giggled.

“No,” Norman replied with a laugh, “well, maybe. Someone wants to interview me.” He handed the paper over, and she sniffed.

“Smells like… hairspray? Maybe it is a secret admirer. Jealous!”

“…Weird.” He’d never had a secret admirer before, and wasn’t sure how to feel about it. According to all his movies, having a stalker meant eminent death.

“That date says tonight right? You should totally go! I’ll follow along, but all secrety-like. Come on!”

“Wait, Mabel…”

But there was no discouraging her, and he found himself being pushed down the road towards town. About a block before the destination-- in front of Greasy’s Diner-- Mabel made him walk by himself, trailing him and actually doing a good job of keeping out of sight. From what he could see though, there was no one waiting out front, and he felt relieved. But then a car-- large, dark and intimidating-- pulled up beside him, and the back window rolled down. These things never ended well.

“Norman?” A high-pitched, Southern drawl-inflected voice inquired, and a small boy’s face topped with an enormous platinum-blonde pompadour appeared over the window frame.

“Uh… yeah?” he replied, hands fidgeting.

“Why, pleased to make your acquaintance at last. Hop in, and we’ll head somewhere away from pryin’ eyes. My trailer should fit the bill.”

“Uh… I’m not so sure. I’ve gotta be home soon,” Norman said, edging back in Mabel’s direction. Everyone knew you didn’t get into a stranger’s car, even if the person inviting you seemed innocent enough.

“No no, come now, I insist!”

The door snapped shut, and Norman found himself inside, not really sure what had just happened. He twisted to look behind as the car pulled away and saw a worried-looking Mabel waving frantically at him before the well-dressed boy sitting next to him cleared his throat and began to speak.

“Now I know this ain’t the typical way to meet someone, but I’ve heard so much about you, well, I couldn’t resist a bit of mystery, if you know what I mean. I’m somethin’ of a showman y’see, and was wonderin’ if you’d be so kind as to make an appearance in my program. I think you’ll find we’ve got a bit in common, and it’d be such a delight to have you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about our psychic gifts of course! Why, with my premonitions and your clairvoyance, it’d be quite a treat for my fans. Think you could do it tonight?”

“Uh…” He was at a loss for words. The car pulled up to a trailer-- not the mobile home he’d expected, but an actual trailer like the ones for movie stars. “Are you… famous?”

“Only locally, but yes.”

They exited the car, which drove off for the time being, and headed into the trailer. The interior was cheerfully lit, lined with all manner of outfits and smelled strongly of hair products. The boy took his seat in front of the mirrors, and indicated a folding chair for Norman.

“Who are you, anyway?” he asked as he sat, and his host gasped.

“My my, did I really not introduce myself? Child psychic and town darlin’ Gideon Gleeful at your service! Now, can I get you anything, a water maybe?”

Norman shook his head. The Pines had named a Gideon in the list of things they’d had to fight, and the town was too small for two people to be called such an unusual name. Something wasn’t right, but he wasn’t allowed to dwell on it, as the chubby kid was determined to talk.

“Down to business then. We’ll get you suited up, then y’just have to talk for ten minutes maybe. Nothin’ fancy, just a few questions about your gift and such. Then questions from the audience, then it’s a wrap and we head home. Now I can see that you’re nervous, but it’s really nothing at all, and I’ll be doin’ most of the talkin’. You just sit an’ look pretty for the camera.”

“I… I’d love to, but uh… I’ve got to get home ‘cause my friends are gonna be really worried…” Norman stuttered, rising from his chair and making for the door. He didn’t mind being on a stage so much, even if the last time he had had ended more or less disastrously, but he got the sense this was something more sinister than a school play.

“Not to worry friend, they know about the whole thing! Now, come on back. You’ve got a show to get ready for.”

Norman found himself walking back to the chair. He didn’t want to, but at the same time it seemed like such a good idea. Gideon snapped his fingers, and a pretty little stylist entered.

“My special guest here needs a suit and somethin’ done about his hair. See what you can do, hon.”

She nodded, sized Norman up, then left the trailer. Gideon tended to his own hair, leaving his guest to look nervously about the room. Maybe he should plan an escape? Surely he’d have a chance to get out between now and the show. Maybe. The plots of most horror movies suggested otherwise.

The stylist came back with a small black suit draped over her arm, and Gideon tutted.

 “Don’cha have anything in color?” The stylist shook her head timidly, but the self-proclaimed psychic shrugged. “Shame. Anyway, try that on for size Norman.” He indicated the bathroom and waved him in. Reluctantly he obliged, and while the suit fit fine, taming his hair was another story altogether. Eventually the stylist reached her breaking point and simply fled the trailer.

--------

“Dipper! Dipper!”

The door to their room practically exploded under Mabel’s charge, and the Journal fell from his hands in shock.

“What!? What’s happening?”

“Norman got kidnapped!”

“What!?”

               “I dunno! I was watching him and he tried to get away, but then it was like he changed his mind and got in the car anyway! What are we gonna do?!”

“Wait, why were you following him? Where did this happen?”

“He got a letter, and I thought maybe it was a secret admirer or something romantic, so I-- oh man, this is all my fault!” she cried, falling to her knees, and Dipper put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry Mabel, we can figure this out. Did you see who was in the car?”

“Hey kids! Get down here, yer buddy‘s on TV!” Stan shouted from below, and the pair rushed down, almost skidding into the room.

“I was just flippin’ through channels and stumbled on him. What’s he doin’ on Gideon’s show anyway? You guys warned him about the little creep, right?”

"Not well enough, apparently…” Dipper sighed, sitting dejectedly on the carpet. “Better see what he’s up to.”

“Tell us more about this curse you helped take care of,” Gideon was saying, leaning forward in a cushy-looking chair. “What’s all this about a witch now?”

“Well…” Norman looked uncomfortable on the stage, even though he had an equally cushy-looking chair. It was probably blazing under those lights, not to mention he’d been put on the spot. Nevertheless, in his own halting way he explained the whole story as quickly as he could.

“Fascinatin’, absolutely fascinatin’! Sounds terrifying too, but you triumphed in the end an’ that’s the main thing, am I right?” Gideon pronounced, and Norman smiled nervously while the crowd applauded. After that, they took questions from the audience, and then the show was over, Gideon waving to the camera charmingly with an awkwardly bemused Norman at his side as the credits rolled. The Pines sat in what approached a grim silence. Stan stormed from the room, and the twins glanced at one another. Their great-uncle returned fully dressed and scowling, grabbed his cane and opened the door.

“Come on kids, I’m not letting that little freak steal your friend for his sideshow. Hurry up!”

The two were out the door and in Stan’s car in a flash. Stan hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he learned there was suddenly another kid in his care, but at least this one’d turned out to be pretty low-maintenance. And if there was one thing Dipper knew their great-uncle definitely wouldn’t stand for, it was his business rival getting an advantage by using a family friend against him. The ancient vehhicle’s engine roared to life, and they were off.

People were still filing out of the Tent of Telepathy when the Pines family pulled in haphazardly and all three stormed in, Stan leading the way. Things were being wrapped up, and the Gleefuls’ employees stared as they marched down the center aisle. Bud Gleeful was packing up the electric organ, and despite their rivalry was always welcoming whenever Stan came to confront him over some wrong.

“Well, if it isn’t th’ whole Pines gang. What can I help y’all with this fine evening?” he drawled cheerfully, greeting them with palms spread warmly.

“Look, we only came here to pick up Norman. Hand ‘im over and we’ll leave without a fuss,” Stan growled, crossing his arms, and Bud held up his hands defensively.

“I’d love to help, but he and Gideon headed home for some dinner. You’ll just have t’ head there if y’ need ‘im back so soon.”

“Fine. But I’ll have you know we’re onto you!” Stan retorted, glaring at the large Southerner as he turned to leave the tent, twins in tow looking equally skeptical. They clambered back into the car and headed across town, and the siblings exchanged worried glances. Their new best friend was in the clutches of an insane ten-year-old who seemed to have access to the same supernatural forces they did. This was a recipe for disaster if there ever was one.

The Gleefuls’ sprawling ranch house loomed into view, the giant billboard advertising Gideon illuminated in their headlights. It seemed to leer mockingly down at them, and Stan growled in disgust. It was time to put an end to this farce. Once more they marched up to their rival’s establishment, and Stan pounded on the door rather than ring the doorbell. He tapped his foot impatiently before knocking again, and this time the door swung open. It was Gideon.

“Give us our friend back!” Mabel demanded, stepping forward and poking him hard in the chest before he could say a word.

“Why Mabel, always a pleasure to see you,” he countered, rubbing where she had more or less stabbed him with her finger. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You can‘t fool us! We saw you on TV with Norman tonight!” It was Dipper’s turn to yell angrily at their rival, who merely chuckled innocently.

“Oh yes, he did stop by didn't he? Charming fellow, bit quiet though. I already sent him home, he should be there by now. You’re wastin’ your time talking to lil’ ole me.” His smug expression wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Dipper passed a worried look to his sister. The Pines were left with no choice but to leave their enemy and head home. They knew he couldn’t be trusted; would Norman really be waiting for them at the Shack? Had they just been bamboozled? Stan would never stand for that, he was the resident con man. They sat in the car, uncomfortably silent.

“Gideon seemed awfully convincing again…” Mabel finally groaned, fiddling with her hair, and her brother sighed.

“Yeah. Something’s up… wait, Mabel!”

She looked up to see her brother was agape.

“I knew there was something different about him when we saw him on TV, but seeing him just now-- he’s got another amulet!”

“Ugh, and I could have grabbed it when I poked him! Today’s just not our day.”

“Yeah… if he had it though, why didn't he do anything to us when we showed up at his doorstep? I would've, if I were evil. All my enemies in one place? Too easy,” he reasoned, scratching his head. “He’s up to something.”

“And it has to do with Norman.”

 “Well, looks like you’ll get to find out for yourselves; believe it or not Gideon was telling the truth. He’s right there on the steps,” Stan interjected. Sure enough their friend was waving to them as they pulled in, looking almost as relieved as they felt. Mabel barely let the car stop before she tackled him in a bear hug and left him gasping for air under her grip. Stan unlocked the door, and the three kids trudged gratefully inside, glad the day was over.

“He wanted me to keep the suit,” Norman said, tossing the thing over the back of a chair in the kitchen.

“It is pretty nice…” Mabel chuckled.

“Yeah, but… Gideon,” Dipper replied, grimacing, and she shrugged.

There was a lot more to talk about, but it was much too late for that now. Norman especially seemed tired from his live TV appearance, so the three picked up anything they’d left out and headed up to bed. After a good night’s rest they could begin unraveling their nemesis’ plan. At least that would be more rewarding than trying to crack the Journal’s codes, and probably more fun too.

But no one slept well at all.