Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 5

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.

Update~

Wow I think somehow this blog keeps getting followers! Thank you! X3

I don't have much to post now, but hopefully I'll have some art to share soon, and I'm slowly working on a sequel as well as a third fic in the same continuity, based on an idea by Draw-Ren-Draw!

I also have ideas for a fourth entry that finally incorporates Coraline, but we'll see how these other two fics go, shall we? :3

Prologue

Reposted from my main blog, this short story lays the groundwork for the rest of my Mystery Kids stuff. It's been polished up a bit, so hopefully it's a little nicer to read than the original. Enjoy!

---

Summer road trips are always interesting. Long car rides broken by the odd tourist attraction or historical monument, camping that ends with everyone sleeping in the car, and sundry wildlife, the most menacing of which generally have six legs and fly.

Norman expected all these things, but he never expected to meet two kids as comfortable with the paranormal as he was.

---

Pop. Smack smack smack. Puff— pop.

Perry Babcock shifted his grip on the steering wheel, glaring at the road ahead. He glanced at the rearview mirror where he could see his teenage daughter loudly enjoying her gum as she read a fluffy romance novel. He didn’t understand the appeal of either romance novels or gum, but only one was driving him up the wall after two hours on the road.

Pop.

“Will you quit with the popping already! I have had it up to here,” he finally burst, “with that noise!”

“Maybe we should take a break, dear,” Sandra Babcock said in her airy way, laying a gentle hand on her husband’s arm, and he scowled. Courtney, who had almost choked on her gum at her father’s outburst, quickly spat it out. It was way past flavorless anyway, and she was getting to the good part— now was not the time to be distracted. The protagonist was about to profess her love to the three guys she was interested in, though Courtney was certain one was a total jerk even if he was a hottie. 

Norman looked skeptically at them all, then went back to his own book, a choose-your-own zombie adventure they’d picked up at a used bookstore in Portland. It was good so far, though he was pretty sure he knew how it would end. That tended to happen when you’d seen as many movies as he had, and there were only so many ways to beat a zombie uprising. 

“I haven’t seen a sign for a town in miles. You think we should just pull over?” Perry griped, gesturing at the road ahead, and his wife shrugged.

“We might have to. Besides, the forest looks nice, don’t you think?”

“It’s probably full of bears or mountain lions, or mosquitoes. You want to go out in that?”

I’m sure something will come along soon. Just keep your eyes open,” Sandra said cheerfully, turning to watch the scenery flash by.

The Babcocks had never really been ones to take family vacations. They’d been to the beach of course, but that had been years ago, when the kids were quite young. Norman didn’t even really remember it besides the water being really cold and salty. So when his mom had proposed this huge cross-country trek as a means of ‘family bonding time’, everyone had been skeptical, Perry most of all. He had complained to his boss about the craziness of it all, but earned no sympathy— the manager had fond memories of a similar trip as a kid and had insisted he have the time off. As soon as school finished the family stuffed the car with their things and left a few days later. Neil had made Norman promise he’d take lots of pictures and send him postcards about all the ghosts he met along the way, while Courtney exchanged (apparently) tearful hugs with all her girlfriends, vowing to text them whenever she had service.

And now here they were, on their way back after reaching the Pacific ocean and taking the less stressful ‘scenic route’ as Sandra liked to say. It took longer, but not dealing with traffic was much easier on Perry’s temper. In the same vein, it’d been decided they would stop anywhere that seemed interesting if only to get out of the car and have some space. Norman was grateful this included haunted houses— not the fake kind put on for Halloween, but the historical a-murder-happened-in-this-room kind. Those were fun. Seeing his family's reactions to what any lingering spirits had to say even more so.

“Finally!’ his dad cried with relief as a green highway sign appeared on the horizon. “Okay, two miles. Not bad.”

“You kids ready for a break?” Sandra asked, peering around her headrest with a smile.

“I guess so,” Norman replied, putting a bookmark where he’d left off and setting the book beside him. He glanced over at his sister, who seemed to be enthralled with whatever drama had arisen. She was holding the novel mere inches from her nose, eyes wide and attentive as a serious love quadrangle unfolded. Was she… holding her breath too? Norman laughed softly; he admitted he did the same with his favorite movies, so he really couldn’t blame her.

“Oh. My. God. I can’t believe she went with Derrick! She’s totally better than him!” she finally exclaimed shrilly, snapping the book shut with an annoyed sigh. 

“After all that drama I am so ready to get out of here.”

The exit finally came up, and they were suddenly swallowed in the shadow of the forest as it enclosed both sides of the road. The trees were thick and ancient here; Norman spotted what looked like a 18th century fur trapper lost in the thickets and felt sorry for the wandering spirit. Then there was a lumberjack endlessly sawing away at nothing, and a pioneer with an arrow through his hat— and skull. So many ghosts already; this town was sure to have an interesting past.

They drove past a diner carved straight out of a massive fallen redwood, and down a Main Street that looked like most of its buildings were 1800s originals, with a few more modern additions in between. The road was mostly empty, but there were plenty of people out and about walking, enjoying the fresh air and saving a bit on gas. In such a small town, it was pretty easy to do. Framed by trees, on a hill overlooking this speck of civilization, was a large billboard that read in large, bold letters: 

Welcome to Gravity Falls!

“What a quaint little town!” Sandra practically squealed, looking eagerly out the windows. “I wonder what kind of souvenirs we can find here.”

“It's too much like home to me,” her husband grumbled, “and you’ve already bought a ton of stuff. Where are you gonna put it all?”

“Looks boring,” Courtney huffed, flipping her ponytail. Norman was too busy ghost-spotting to care what his family was saying, making a list of everyone he saw in a small notebook he’d brought for exactly this. It was almost half-full already.

“Ooh, look Norman, they’ve got one of those mystery spot things here,” his mom was cooing, pointing out a sign posted near the road. He didn’t quite have the heart to tell her those places weren’t really his thing, and he was pretty sure most of them were shams anyway.

“Are we stopping or not?” Perry demanded.

“It looks fun. Let’s go,” Sandra smiled blithely, and her husband made the turn. Courtney rolled her eyes, but at least maybe there’d be a cute boy working there. She’d gotten about three phone numbers this way, though she wasn’t sure she could handle a long-distance relationship. It was hard to say.

The gasping station wagon rolled into the gravel parking lot, and the engine sounded relieved when Perry put it in park and shut the thing off. It was a wonder it hadn’t broken down somewhere in the expanses of South Dakota, but it had survived and even pulled through the mountain passes with only minor hiccups. Of course there was still the trip back to worry about, but for now the family thought of their car as something of a hardened warrior. 

The Mystery Shack was a ragged old building that had seen far better days. Norman felt like he could get splinters just by looking at it too long, and moss had sprouted from the aging roof. It had managed to snag a few other tourists though, and they joined them in waiting for the next showing in ten minutes. Courtney flailed at any insect that flew too close, while Perry shifted his weight from foot to foot and Sandra merely enjoyed the atmosphere. Norman was with his mom in a way; it was peaceful in the old forest and smelled like pine. It was places like this he wished he could come to more often and escape the world. 

The door finally snapped open, and an old man appeared in a flash of smoke. He certainly seemed the character, Norman thought. Dressed sharply in a suit and sporting a fez, he beckoned the crowd in with an eight-ball cane and a broad grin.

“Welcome folks, to a world of mystery! The likes of which defy all explanation and will leave you shocked beyond belief. I’ll be your guide through this world of wonder for only a small fee.”

Perry begrudgingly parted with $80, muttering under his breath that it’d better be worth it. Stepping inside, he was certain it wasn’t, but it was too late now. The tour began as soon as the man had counted up the cash and stuffed it in an inner pocket.

The place was full of interesting things, Norman decided, though none of them particularly mysterious. There were mutant animals, cobbled-together chimeras (some were better than others), and plenty of optical illusions. He liked reading the plaques that related the story behind the displays, but the tour didn’t let people linger on each farce for too long, which meant he was left behind pretty quick. It wasn’t long before he was wandering the dimly lit halls alone.

Being alone usually didn’t bother Norman. He’d been alone for a long time, it was something he was used to. But this place made him uneasy. He hadn’t seen any ghosts, yet he felt he was being watched by more than the dusty taxidermy animal eyes. Hurrying down the hall, he spotted the sign pointing to the gift shop and headed that way, certain his mom would stop by in search of some chintzy knickknack to mail home. Maybe he’d pick out a postcard to send to Neil while he was there, tell him about the weird tourist trap his parents had dragged him to. Neil would probably think this place was really cool.

The gift shop was lit far better than the rest of the house, though Norman noted his sister would be disappointed to learn it was a girl working the register. She didn’t seem to notice him, her nose buried in a music magazine. Which was fine with him. He browsed the rack of postcards, picking out one with a picture of the Mystery Shack before a familiar green glow drew his attention.

It was a deer ghost, with a proud rack of antlers and a seam running around its neck and bullet holes in its coat. He hovered in front of a mounted bust— presumably his original head, but with things like fish fins in place of his ears and a pair of wolf fangs glued into his mouth. Norman frowned, understanding the animal’s pain right away. If his body had been disrespected that way, he probably wouldn’t rest either. Glancing over at the girl at the register, Norman quietly walked to where the buck floated. The animal spooked for a moment, bounding through a wall, but he waited patiently until it poked its head back through and approached him cautiously. He put his hand out, and the spirit nuzzled it, a fine tingle like weak static brushing his fingers.

There was a rustle from the counter, and Norman quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets as the girl checked the clock, then rose and exited the shop, apparently unaware he was there at all. At least he could talk now. The deer had retreated into the wall again, startled by his sudden movement, so he called to it reassuringly.

“Come on, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gently, and the buck poked its head back in before deciding the coast was clear and coming closer.

“You’re probably mad about what they did to your body, huh?”

The animal snorted and shook its head, and Norman thought for a bit.

“Not mad huh? I guess that’s good. Maybe… you’d like a proper burial?”

It nuzzled his cheek and licked it, sending a tingle through his face and making him laugh.

“Well, I can’t just take this thing down. First of all, it’s not mine, and second, I’m not tall enough to reach it,” he explained. It was true though; he might reach the nose if he jumped but that was it. The deer stamped a hoof, apparently in frustration.

“I know. Sorry I’m not much help. I’m sure it’ll get buried someday though.”

The deer lowered its head and nestled it on his shoulder, and he stroked the animal’s powerful neck before it perked up, ears alert. Squinting, he turned to see what the deer was looking at— and found a boy about his age staring at him. Norman pursed his lips and dropped eye contact. What was he going to say?

“What were you doing just now?” the boy asked, looking skeptical with his arms folded.

“I was, uh, admiring this… thing,” he replied, gesturing at the tacked-together mount. The boy narrowed his eyes.

“You were talking to someone, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Wendy.”

Norman stood with hands close to his chest, mouth slightly agape as he tried to figure out what to say. Well, maybe the truth would scare this kid off. Inhaling, he gathered his nerves. 

“I was talking to the ghost of the deer that was used to make this thing.”

“Whoa. Wait, animals can have ghosts?” Now the kid just sounded intrigued. Great.

“Well, yeah. Not as often as people, but just about anything can come back.”

“And you… talk to them? They can talk back?”

“Not with words.” 

“How do I know you’re not just crazy?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well… your conversation makes a lot more sense if you’re talking to the ghost of that thing,” the boy reasoned, rubbing his chin. 

“So… you heard all of it, huh?”

“Pretty much. I’m Dipper by the way,” he said, smiling.

“You’re not… weirded out by me?” It was Norman’s turn to narrow his eyes skeptically.

“Please, if you knew what I’ve seen around here, you'd be the one weirded out. Gravity Falls must be a weirdness magnet or something,” he said with a shrug. Norman raised a brow.

“Like what?”

“Try cursed wax statues. Or a time traveler. Or the eighth-and-a-half president. Not to mention I‘ve seen ghosts too.”

Norman was wondering if Dipper was the crazy one here. Something about his expression must have given away what he was thinking, because Dipper’s smug smile turned sour.

“Of course no one ever believes me,” he grumbled, scuffing the floor with his foot.

“Sorry. I know what that’s like,” Norman said, scratching the back of his head, and Dipper lit up.

“So you believe me?”

“Well, it’s kind of incredible… but I guess stranger things have happened.”

“You said it. So for that deer to move on, we have to bury that thing?” Dipper said, walking over to get a good look at the tacky mount.

“Well yeah, but… isn’t that old guy gonna be mad?”

“Stan? Nah, he’s got like, twenty in back. Lemme get my sister and we’ll help you.”

Norman watched him run off, eyes wide. No one besides Neil ever wanted to help him. He looked back at the deer ghost and shrugged, and the animal licked his nose before prancing happily around the gift shop and right through Dipper as he came back with twin sister in tow.

“This is the guy I was telling you about. Apparently he talks to ghosts and could use our help,” he was explaining, and his sister seemed thrilled.

“Whoa! You mean we’ve had a secret ghost buddy and we didn’t even know it?”

“Sorta,” Dipper chuckled. “Anyway, this is Mabel. Mabel, this is— wait, what’s your name?” 

“Norman.”

The twins stared in shock for a moment.

“…What?”

“Uh, nothing! Just— a guy we knew. He was… kinda strange,” Dipper explained, and Mabel nodded. Norman knit his brow.

“We’ll explain later. Let’s take care of this ghost before Stan shows up.” 

Working together, the three dragged in a chair, and Norman spotted while Mabel clambered onto her brother’s shoulders and lifted the heavy object off the wall. They seemed fine, then Dipper’s leg cramped and Mabel lost her grip on the mount. It barely missed Norman’s head and smashed into the floor, knocking the back and both antlers off. A glass eye rolled loose, and the siblings exchanged worried looks with Norman, who then looked to their 'client'.

The deer seemed stunned, then pawed sadly at one of his shattered antlers and closed his eyes in mourning. The medium patted the buck’s neck comfortingly, then set about picking up the broken bits of antler up while the twins grabbed the other pieces. Then, finding a shovel, they headed outside, the spirit walking gracefully alongside as they went in search of a good place to lay his remains to rest. Norman got that sense of being watched again, but noticed Dipper was scrutinizing his every move— probably trying to figure out if he was pulling their legs or not.

Eventually the deer stopped at a secluded mossy patch in a small clearing. A tiny stream bubbled nearby, and there was only the sound of birds chattering in the trees. He stamped a hoof down in the moss, near a small tussock of grass, then laid down on it— as close as he could, considering he was floating.

“Here,” Norman pointed to the spot, and Dipper dug into the moss, exposing the rich brown earth underneath. They all took turns digging until the hole was about two feet deep, just enough to hold the taxidermy head. Norman placed it gently in, laying the broken antlers as close to their original spots as he could, then together they heaped the dirt on top, replacing the moss as best they could when the thing was covered. Mabel found a few wildflowers to lay on the grave, and Norman watched as the deer bowed his head to all of them and melted away, at peace.

“What happened? Is he gone?” Mabel asked, and he nodded, smiling.

“So we really helped him. Huh,” Dipper wondered aloud, brushing dirt from his hands. “I wonder how many other ghosts are around town we could help.”

“Probably a lot. I was making a list of everyone I saw when we drove through,” Norman said, and Dipper’s eyes widened.

“You’ve got a whole list?” 

“Yeah… I’ve kinda been writing a friend at home about all the spirits I’ve seen.” 

“Whoa. I’ve gotta see this! You‘ll show me right?” 

Norman nodded, and the three headed back to the Shack. Upon reentering the gift shop they saw the tour was over as people crowded in to comb through overpriced coffee mugs and bobble-heads. Dipper quickly grabbed one of the many ‘No Refunds’ signs and hung it on the bare nail they’d left, then helped his sister drag the chair out of the room. Norman found his mom debating which bobble-head looked the cutest, while his dad was flipping through a brochure and Courtney was furiously texting away.

“Hey sweetie, there you are,” she said, ruffling his hair when she finally noticed him. “Find some new friends?”

“Uh, yeah actually. They’re into paranormal stuff too,” he smiled, and waved at them as they came back in.

“Well aren’t you two just adorable!” Sandra gushed as the twins walked over. 

Dipper’s eye twitched but he composed himself for his new friend’s mom.

“Nice to meet you Norman’s mom!” Mabel said with a braces-filled grin, and the older woman laughed. “We were wondering if Norman could hang out here for a while. He’s super cool!”

“For a little while, sure, but I think his dad wanted to be leaving soon,” she said apologetically, glancing over at Perry, who had decided to try on a few of the hats to pass the time.

“Then there’s no time to lose!” Mabel cried, grabbing Norman’s wrist and dragging him away.

“Sorry, my sister’s kind of energetic,” Dipper hurriedly explained before joining them, but Sandra just looked happy her son was making more friends. Mabel led Norman into the living room, where Soos was watching TV until Stan gave him something else to fix, clean, or otherwise take care of.

“Hey dudes. Check it out, this guy’s gonna break the world record for most gumballs chewed in an hour riding on a unicycle,” the large man grinned, eyes glued to the screen. It was only when Dipper walked in that Soos took a second look. “Whoa, there’s three of you now. S’up, new kid?”

“Soos! This is Norman. He’s visiting with his family, but you’ll never guess what he can do!” Mabel said, leaping onto the armrest opposite their friend.

“I dunno, but I seem to remember you guys knowing another Norman. Wasn’t that guy like a zombie or something?”

“A… a zombie?” Norman said incredulously, looking at the twins.

“Don’t worry, he wasn’t actually one,” Dipper started, but he shook his head.

“No no, you don’t get it— I love zombies.”

For a few moments, there was only the sound of the TV. Then Dipper put a hand to his forehead and sat down. Soos and Mabel exchanged glances, while Norman’s gaze darted between them all.

“Okay, this is weird, even for Gravity Falls,” Dipper finally exclaimed.

“Dude seems normal to me. I mean, besides the whole coincidence thing,” Soos said, shrugging.

“Uh, I… talk to the dead.”

Soos’ eyes popped. “Okay dudes, I’m with you on this. That is majorly bizarro right there.”

“I’m starting to think I was right when I said this place is a weirdness magnet earlier,” Dipper sighed.

“Or maybe you’re a weirdness magnet,” Mabel teased, giggling, and her brother shot her a look.

“We have to find a way for you to hang out with us more. Where are you from?”

“Massachusetts.”

“Yikes. We don’t have a computer, so email‘s out of the question.”

“Pen pals! I’ve always wanted a pen pal! Hope you like stickers!” Mabel sang.

“Too bad there’s not a way for Norman to like— be in two places at once or something,” Soos said, stroking his chin, and Dipper gave a start.

“Uh, hey Norman, you should come check out this thing I just remembered that’s upstairs,” he spluttered, laughing nervously.

“But I probably have to—”

“It’ll only take a sec,” Dipper said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. But they didn’t go upstairs— instead, Dipper ducked into Stan’s darkened office and shut the door behind him. Running over to a dilapidated copy machine, he checked it for ink and paper, then opened the top and waved Norman over.

“This is gonna sound really strange, but this machine can make copies of people. We copy you, the copy goes home with your family, we get to hang out. It’s perfect!”

“W-what? What about when I want to go home?”

“We’ll figure that out later, just climb on!”

“Uh… okay…” he answered, more than a little confused. Hesitantly, he climbed the rickety old thing and laid on the glass thinking this was probably the craziest thing he’d ever done. Dipper pressed the copy button, and the machine ground to life, an eerie green light sweeping up from Norman’s feet to the end of his rebellious hair. Heart pounding, he turned over to see a sheet of paper with a black-and-white copy of his back slide into the tray, and Dipper took it and laid it out on the floor. It rippled, then a figure rose like something out of a horror movie, black and gray toner giving way to the colors of flesh and clothing. The copy brushed dust from his hands, then turned to face the two.

“Hey Norman the Second,” Dipper smiled, and the Norman copy laughed.

“You should see your face right now,” he said to the original, who was staring with his mouth agape.

“You mean ‘my face’,” Dipper suggested, and they laughed again. Norman was simply too— he couldn’t think of a word to describe how he felt, actually.

“You okay?” his copy asked, in the same way he would have if one of his friends were troubled.

“This is just really weird,” he finally answered, cracking a bemused smile and hopping down from the copier.

“It’s been a really weird day,” his copy pointed out, and they nodded in unison.

“Okay, I’m thinking… Paper Norman goes out to distract your family, while Norman number one runs to the car and grabs his stuff. We have stuff you can borrow, but I bet you’ve got things you’ll need anyway. Sound like a plan?” Dipper thought aloud, and the two nodded. All three headed for the door, but Dipper suddenly froze and grabbed Paper Norman’s arm.

“I almost forgot— if you get wet, you’ll disintegrate! No rain, no water parks, not even a drink, got it?” he hissed urgently. Both Normans nodded, eyes wide even if only one was in danger. “Good. Let’s go.”

They snuck down the hall, then the paper clone waved farewell as he entered the gift shop. Dipper led Norman out the other door out back, and quickly dug his things out of a luckily unlocked car before running back in. Taking the items upstairs, Norman saw where he’d be staying— in the attic with the twins, amidst a jumble of stuff that hadn’t quite made it to the museum floor below. There were steps on the stairs, and the two turned to see a curious Mabel.

“What’s going on up here? Oh my gosh, Norman’s staying with us?!” she squealed, and crushed him in a bear hug. “How’d you convince his parents, huh?”

“Well, let’s just say they won’t even notice he’s gone,” Dipper smirked. There was a sound of car doors slamming, and he ran to a window, and Mabel pressed in beside him while Norman just watched from where he stood, wringing his hands. The Babcocks’ station wagon revved into gear, and the twins could see a small figure peering through one of the side windows, giving a thumbs-up before waving goodbye.

“It worked!” Dipper said under his breath, grinning broadly as he waved back. They watched until the car had vanished behind the trees, then turned back to face their friend-turned-guest. Mabel looked perplexed, and folded her arms.

“So if that was Norman in the car, then who’s this?” 

“Uh, remember Stan’s copier? The one that could copy people?” 

“No way! You copied Norman? That’s awesome!” she grinned, hugging her brother. “So wait, is this the real version or the paper one?” she asked, poking him in the stomach and making him wince. 

“I’m real!” he coughed, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Oh man, this is gonna be great. We’ve got so many stories to tell you, and you’ve gotta tell us about all these ghosts you’ve seen,” Dipper said, his excitement barely contained.

“Well, where do you want me to start?” Norman asked, shrugging.

“Tell us the craziest ghost story ya got!” Mabel demanded with a grin, and he blinked.

“Well, I know some pretty strange ghosts… but… I’ve got one story that definitely tops them all,” he smiled softly. “You might want to sit down, it’s kinda long. Some of it’s sad, but it has a good ending, I promise.”

Aaand just in case any of you missed it, just gonna leave this here.

We will be streaming the episode tomorrow on Livestream, a day before it gets posted on the ‘net!  See you there!

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.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 2

Here's part two~ Happy reading!

“I saved the world at least two times already, and this is the next mission they give me?”

“I know you’re disappointed darling, but every budding Psychonaut gets sent one of these. Sometimes, even Sasha and I get one when no one else is available,” Milla Vodello lilted in her warm Brazilian accent, and her stoic German companion nodded curtly.

“A simple retrieval mission should be short work for you, Razputin. The location isn’t far from here; it should take you a few days at most. Then you’ll be able to move on to more… intriguing proposals,” Sasha Nein added, handing over the mission file.

“Isn’t there something else I could do? A secret psychic mafia plot maybe, or saving a world leader’s sanity. Anything?”

 “…No,” Sasha replied with a frown, and the small psychic’s shoulders fell.

“Sorry dear, but I know you’ll do a fine job. Now go on, we can’t let that stuff stay in the wrong hands for too long. We’ll keep in touch if you need anything.”

“Yeah yeah…” Razputin sighed, flipping through the file as he headed out to the parking lot. A vivid orange globe of energy sprung up under his feet, and he was off, rolling along. There were certain disadvantages to being the youngest Psychonaut ever, number one being you still weren’t allowed to drive anywhere, or fly the official jet yourself, leaving travel by levitation ball the only option. At least his family’s nomadic circus life had left him with a good sense of direction. It might take him a day or so, but he’d have no trouble reaching the locale from Whispering Rock. Time to see what this retrieval mission was all about.

 --------

“Whoa dude, you look beat. Everything okay?” Soos looked worried, and Dipper groaned.

“Mabel had insomnia, Norman got bad dreams, and I've got a splitting headache,” he replied from where he was draped over the counter in the gift shop, a bag of ice on his forehead.

“Yikes, sorry,” the handyman lowered his voice, going back to his sweeping but trying to do it more gently. “You guys didn’t have some kinda crazy zombie party, did you? Or maybe it‘s some kinda curse.”

“Maybe…” Dipper trailed. The Journal didn’t have much about curses, and reading made the headache worse anyway. If Gideon’s plan had been to give them all sleep disorders, well, it had worked, but that seemed a bit… weak for their enemy’s tastes. It had more or less incapacitated them though, so if that was his real aim… then they were probably in for even more trouble soon. Wincing, he peeled himself from the countertop and headed upstairs, pressing the ice pack to his head. Even if he couldn’t read right now, there were two people who could do it for him. He’d read the mysterious tome front to back, nearly had the contents memorized, but there was a chance he’d missed something, anything that might get this migraine to go away. Then he’d be able to think, and help the others.

Trudging upstairs, he found Norman distracting himself with one of his ghost story collections, and Mabel lay flat on her bed knitting. Presumably she’d been trying to sleep and gave up. She stopped and sat up as her brother approached and pulled the Journal from under his pillow.

“Any better?” she asked wearily, and he shook his head, then winced. That had been a bad idea.

“I was hoping someone could look up anything about curses in here. Soos thought maybe that’s what’s up.”

“But you know it the best,” she countered, “and my eyes have been going all weird. Look how many stitches I dropped!” She held up her needles with what looked like a slowly tapering scarf. “It’s not supposed to do that,” she moaned, “but I’ve gotta keep my mind off how badly I wanna sleep.”

“And I want to do something about that, but I can’t with this crazy headache,” Dipper answered tersely, then felt the book pulled from his hand and spun to see Norman with his nose already buried in it. “Whoa, thanks, but… what’s with the enthusiasm?”

“You need to ask?” he snapped, harsher than usual, but Dipper figured he had a good reason to be ill-tempered today. No one could be expected to be in a good mood after sleeping poorly.

Aside from the sound of pages turning and the clicking of knitting needles, the room was silent, which was a relief for Dipper. He was almost able to ignore the headache now, and slowly he tried piecing events together as he lay on his bed. Everyone had sleepless nights sometimes, but that it had affected them at the same time was suspicious, especially after crossing with a known enemy. Stan had seemed perfectly chipper at breakfast this morning, so somehow he hadn’t been affected by whatever Gideon had done. And it seemed odd that if it was a curse that it had such different effects on each of them, unless of course that was the point. He couldn’t be too sure about that.

A sharp pang interrupted his thoughts, and he realized his ice had melted already. Dragging himself up, he noticed Norman staring into space. He did that sometimes, but usually only if there was a ghost present, and he’d explained there were only a couple animal ghosts at the Mystery Shack, and none in the attic where they slept. So what was he doing?

“Norman?”

He flinched like the name had hit him, then rapidly blinked and rubbed his eyes before apologizing. Dipper shrugged and headed down for his ice refill, wondering what could be up. It’d only be the latest in a long line of things. At least when he came back his friend was reading again, and the ice felt really good against his throbbing skull. Soos visited late that afternoon with popsicles for the three, a welcome distraction from their problems, and relayed that it’d been a pretty slow day at the Shack and he was headed home early, but wanted to check on them before he left. Mabel gave him the ‘insomnia scarf’ as a thank you since he thought it was actually kind of cool, then they bid him farewell for the evening.

All too soon another restless night fell, with only Dipper managing a few snatches of shuteye. For the other two, there was no escaping their afflictions. Mabel snuggled with Waddles and worked on a new sweater to pass the time. Norman lay in a daze between visions, unable to avoid them anymore. He was dragged underground by the living dead, surrounded by taunting classmates, set alight by fearful puritans— an endless procession of horrors only he could see. He was managing to keep it together, but wasn’t sure it’d last. His only hope was that Dipper would feel better soon and be able to figure out what had gone wrong. Trying to keep his mind off the visual static that danced at the edges of his vision, he ran over the previous day’s events again and again, looking for anything he could have missed. Things had definitely gotten weird as soon as Gideon had wanted to talk to him, but there had to be more right? He’d gone into the trailer, put up with the kid’s fashion sense and then—he’d gone on stage. But why did he remember turquoise and dread too?

When the room’s shadows morphed into leering sinister creatures, he knew he wouldn’t be getting his answer—or sleep.

Morning light stole into the attic room at last and came to rest on three exhausted kids. Dipper sat taking stock as he massaged his temples; Mabel appeared to have finally passed out while Norman sat curled in a corner, unresponsive. He himself was still plagued by his headache, but it was now coupled with the sense of being watched-- which normally only accompanied him in the forest. Groaning, he grabbed the leaking ice pack and headed downstairs to fill it again, feeling unwelcome in his own, if only for the summer, home. Stan wasn’t up yet, and only the birds made much noise… he felt like he was trespassing. As quietly as he could, he got the ice and hurriedly tiptoed back upstairs, glad it still helped with the pain. Glancing blearily at the others, he knew it’d up to him to do any mystery-solving today.

Using some of Mabel’s yarn, he tied the ice pack to the bill of his hat and got to work, writing out a timeline of events and anything that seemed unusual. He dozed off from time to time, either a jolt of pain or some shadow of a dream bringing him around again. Hours passed, and he heard Stan moving around downstairs making a coffee, and the crinkle of the morning paper. And whispering… no, just the wind. He was tired that was all, tired and hearing things. Maybe breakfast would help.

“Yikes, you look like you lost a fight. No sleep again, huh?” Stan commented when he entered the kitchen, and he nodded. Stan looked worried for a moment, then went back to his paper. “Uh, I gotta run some errands today. Soos’ll take care of the Shack if you kids are really that out of it.”

“Thanks… I don’t think we’ll be doing anything today. Mabel’s out cold, and Norman… I think he’s petrified or something.”

“Hey, could be a new thing for the Shack-- ‘Fossilized Ghost Whisperer Boy’, hah!”

Dipper ignored his great-uncle’s remark and focused on his cereal. He was more concerned about what he was missing, just like the key to one of the ciphers. And that’s all this was, another mystery thrown at him. Well, he’d solve it, and prove to Gideon there was nothing he could do to bring him down. Finishing his meal, he headed back up determined to find out the truth. Stan finished his paper and headed out, leaving the Shack to the kids until Soos arrived.

Mabel woke with a start. Waddles was gone, her brother’s bed was empty, and she didn’t see Norman. But she knew where each of them was— Dipper was coming up the stairs still rocking that headache, Waddles had made his way outside and was happily rooting around in the grass, and Norman was… hiding, in the corner. She furrowed her brow; she didn’t feel tired anymore at least, and even though she’d always been a people person, she never recalled being able to pinpoint where someone was and how they were feeling.

“Oh Mabel, you’re awake, good. Listen, I—”

“Someone’s at the door,” she interrupted, and the doorbell rang. Dipper stared at her, then they both headed down to investigate. She wanted her hunch to be wrong, but it came as no surprise when the door swung open to reveal Gideon inspecting his nails as though he’d been kept waiting. She glared at him as he pretended to notice the door was finally open, and then feigned shock at their worn appearance.

“Why, y’all look like you haven’t slept in days. And Dipper, that’s an intriguing device you’ve rigged there. Tell me, does it help with your insanity?”

“Whatever you tried Gideon, it didn’t work! You just gave me a bad headache.”

“Aw, look how confident he is,” Gideon cooed, before his expression turned sour. “Listen here you two. Things are going exactly as planned, and soon there won’t be anything you can do to stop me. I’m taking everything-- your minds, your friend, the Shack, and all its secrets. I was just stoppin’ by to see how it was all comin’ along.” He looked them over again, arms folded, and gave a satisfied nod before sauntering off. Mabel raised a fist, but found her brother’s arm barring her and lowered it. He was right; there was no need to cause more trouble, and there were better people to use a punch on.

“Now we know this is his fault,” Dipper said once he‘d gone. “What did he mean, our minds? He can’t make us work for him, he doesn’t have that kind of power. Ugh, now I have to write more things down. And how did you know he was at the door?”

“I just sorta knew,” Mabel shrugged. “It wasn’t just him either, I knew where you and Waddles were, and Norman, and even what you guys were feeling.”

“Whoa, like you were the one with psychic powers. Hey, how am I feeling now?”

“I dunno, I can’t do it anymore,” she shrugged again, and he thought for a while.

“Something Gideon did messed with all our heads, but I don’t think he meant to give you powers. Maybe that means he really doesn’t have control of whatever he’s doing, which means we have a chance. Come on!”

They ran upstairs, and she watched her brother sort through his data and remove all the stuff that relied on Gideon having total control. It wasn’t much, and she knew she wasn’t one for this conspiracy-level thinking, but if their rival had just unwittingly given his whole game away her brother would be the one to figure it out, and she’d be there to help. Together, they laid things out, starting with Norman’s letter and running through everything up to their latest exchange with their rival. Norman could have been hexed at any time he was with Gideon, but that didn’t account for why the twins were suffering and Stan wasn’t. Dipper put that in the ’suspicious’ pile. The amulet was back; that too went into the ’suspicious’ pile. Making Norman take the suit home… also strange, added to the pile. That Gideon was determined to destroy their minds rather than just physically remove them from the Shack with the amulet? Scary.

“Well, the only thing we can investigate right away is that suit, though I can’t see what might be so weird about it,” Dipper sighed, sorting through the slips of paper listing each oddity. “Still, worth a shot, I guess.”

She nodded and hopped up to fetch it. The thing had been hung up in the closet, out of sight and hence out of mind, especially once more pressing matters arose. Tearing it from the hanger, she tossed it on the floor between their beds, and something made a clunking sound. They glanced at each other, then patted through the fabric until Dipper’s hand fell on a hard object tucked into a pocket. Reaching in, he withdrew a rock about the size of his fist, violently purple and glittering in his hand. He looked at it for a moment, then handed it over for her to see. Turning it over in her hands, she admired the color and how it glowed all by itself. It was such a pretty rock, but there was more to it than looks; she felt that sense of extreme empathy coming back, could feel how bad her brother’s migraine was, and… something worse.

Dipper took the rock back when he noticed concern spread on his sister’s face and looked closely at the heavy mineral. Pain jagged through his skull, and for a moment his vision blacked out. He was floating in a void, he was sure of it, but somehow it wasn’t a scary sort of void. There was something here, something important… something good to know. Could he find out what it was?

A flash of red and green. The word ‘goggles’.

Then it was back to pain, and Mabel placed a steadying hand on his shoulder while the stone clattered to the floor. Grabbing the nearest container he saw, Dipper took the rock and stuffed it in one of the jars of fake eyes Stan kept around and jammed the lid back on as fast as he could. Amazingly, his headache seemed to lessen right away, and he sighed with relief. So that’s what Gideon had done-- planted this thing on Norman without him knowing, or maybe hypnotizing him to forget about it, who knew-- and let whatever it was seep into their room. No wonder Stan hadn’t been affected, he was probably out of range. And the person who’d been in contact with it the most…

“Dipper… Norman’s not doing so good,” Mabel said timidly, interrupting her brother’s thoughts.

“Can you feel what’s going on like you did earlier?” Dipper asked quietly, but she shook her head.

“Once you put that rock stuff in the jar I couldn't feel anything.”

“Huh. Okay, uh… but what about before that though?”

“Before that, um,” she trailed nervously, poking her fingers together. “It was kind of a big blob of blech. I… I don’t think he’s really… um… with us anymore,” she explained, and her brother sighed.

“Yikes. Well, only thing we can do is talk to him, right? Find out what’s up…”

“Uh-huh,” she agreed, and together they stood and slowly approached their troubled friend. They exchanged concerned looks, then Dipper began.

“Wanna… come out of your corner there Norman?” he said cautiously, and again his friend flinched.

“…Go away…”

“We’re not going anywhere until you’re better. That’s what friends do,” Mabel answered as cheerfully as she could.

“…Don’t have any friends… better off alone…” he muttered, almost to himself, and the twins looked to each other.

“That’s not true, you've got-- a ton of friends, yeah! There’s me, and Dipper, and that one kid you talked about back home, and Soos, not to mention the ghosts you talk to like, all the time! Yeah!” Mabel laughed nervously, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. The tone of his voice was the most unsettling thing, and she realized she was afraid-- though whether it was for or because of Norman she couldn’t tell. Which only made her all the more worried.

“…Leave me alone…”

“And… if we don’t leave you alone?” Dipper asked, and she elbowed him in the side for being insensitive. He caught her frantic glare before movement got their attention. Norman was standing, staggering to his feet like one of the zombies from his movies, but there was something even more troubling-- static flickered through his hair and across his clothes.

“Then… I’ll make you…”

Dipper gasped as he realized his friend’s intent and grabbed his sister’s wrist; together, the twins barely dodged the lightning that sizzled over their heads and ducked for the door, shutting it behind them and panting. Mabel wrapped her arms around him, and he realized she was shaking; he was speechless himself, so he only returned the reassuring hug for the time being. He wasn’t even sure how to feel at the moment, but one thing was blindingly clear: Gideon was going to pay.

“Come on Mabel, I don’t think we can help him right now,” he said quietly, standing and heading down the stairs. Mabel took a sad glance back at the door before following, hoping her brother had a plan. Adjusting his cap, he remembered the ice pack and took it off now that his headache was largely gone, then marched out the door, sister close behind wondering just what was on his mind. She had a pretty good guess though, since it was likely she was thinking the same thing.

Hopefully not literally, but the Pines were out for blood.

--------

Razputin, or more simply ‘Raz’ as he preferred, had just arrived in town and could already sense things were amiss. That run-down looking tourist trap he’d passed on the way in was definitely giving off some weird vibes, but he’d investigate later-- now there was a dwarf in a powder-blue suit trying to get his attention down the street. Come to think of it, he had heard this area was known for strange occurrences and sightings. He just hadn’t expected to run into so much so soon.

Rolling closer, he saw it was actually just a well-dressed kid flagging him down, and figured he wanted his autograph or something, or maybe he’d never seen a psychic before. It might be good to make friends with the locals anyway; they’d be able to guide him around town during his investigation—at least, that’s what the agents in True Psychic Tales always did. He let the ball of energy under his feet evaporate and walked over to find out just what this kid wanted.

“Can I help you?”

“I believe you can, yes,” the child replied in a charming drawl, “as a fellow psychic, I could use a friend. Walk with me an’ I’ll tell ya all about it.”

Raz was a little surprised at his claims of being a psychic—again, he hadn't expected strange stuff to happen so soon—but he felt an immediate fellowship as he listened eagerly to his plight. The kid explained how he’d been mocked and derided as a fraud ever since he’d come to town, and now two  other kids had taken something of his and hidden it in that tourist trap he’d passed earlier, the Mystery Shack. Raz was obviously more powerful than him, since he couldn’t even levitate like he did, and he could use someone to back him up when he went to get his stuff.

“Then those fools won’t know what hit ‘em,” he chuckled, and something in his tone made Raz uneasy. Still, this kid could be useful for his mission, and those bad vibes from earlier might be related to too—no sense in ruling it out prematurely, especially with the nature of what he was supposed to be recovering. And on top of all that, he knew all too well about being mocked for who you were. So he didn’t see much harm in following him for now, and maybe he’d lead him straight to what he needed anyway. Two birds with one stone and all that.

The Shack loomed into view, and the sign on the window read “Closed” even though business hours should have started at ten that morning, almost four hours ago. It looked like no one was home, and Raz watched uneasily as the shorter kid forced the door to the gift shop open with his telekinesis and walked right in. Even if he only had telekinesis, couldn’t he defend himself? Something didn’t add up, and he got the feeling he only knew part of the story, or perhaps not even that as he followed the kid further into the house-turned-museum. It smelled like dust and mildewed taxidermy, and the décor was stuck in the 70s, but that was of no concern to the suited kid who searched the common areas furiously before heading upstairs. Raz felt maybe he’d been coerced into a robbery, was the brawn to this kid’s brains, but there was still that sense there was more going on than he realized. Well, he wasn’t about to let it stay that way.

“Okay, what are we really doing here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as they climbed the stairs to the attic, and the boy chuckled.

“Why, didn't I tell you? There’s somethin’ here that’s rightfully mine, an’ I’m just retrievin’ it,” he replied, opening the door at the top and peeking in.

“I thought you said it was yours. That seems different from ‘rightfully’ yours.”

“Silence!”the kid shrieked, all semblance of amicability gone, and Raz felt himself hurled into the room ahead, tumbling against the foot of a bed. Rubbing the back of his aching head with a groan, he quickly realized there was someone home after all. Getting cautiously to his feet, he saw his ‘friend’ peering around the door and telekinetically shut it on him, then set a heavy-looking travel trunk against it. He needed to figure out what was going on here, and he had a feeling the other person curled in the corner was part of it.

If anything, he was at least the source of the bad aura that filled the house. There was no mistaking it—confusion, fear, anger, sadness—a roiling slew of negative emotions with no mental walls left to contain them. Raz still wasn’t the most experienced, but he knew this couldn’t be natural. Unblocking the door, he snatched his ‘friend’ up with a projected hand and brought him in, certain he had something to do with this other kid’s… affliction.

“What the hell is going on here? Explain yourself, or I’ll…” he thought for a moment, “I’ll light your hair on fire!”

“No! I mean, what makes you think I have anything t’ do with Norman over here?”

Raz raised an eyebrow. “You know his name.”

“So I do… He’s—he’s just another psychic, he’s been havin’ some real bad visions lately, an’ I was just—”

Raz picked up a scrap of blank paper from the floor and set it alight, letting the ashes drift in front of the kid’s face before continuing to glare at him. He seemed shaken, but then he reached to his tie and a burst of blue energy tore through Raz’s projection. Raz shook out his hand—his real one—he’d felt the attack in it, and swore under his breath as the chubby kid fled downstairs and out of range. He’d deal with that weirdo later; for now, he couldn’t let this Norman kid stay like he was. But there were rules against projecting into other kids’ heads, laws to keep unscrupulous individuals from corrupting the innocent. He had to contact HQ.

Sitting down, he pulled his red-lensed goggles over his eyes and focused inward. He was a natural telepath, but long distances were still hard and it was easy to pick up on the wrong person’s brainwaves, especially with emotional chaos in the room. Slowly he managed to tune it out, and the person he sought became clearer, feeling closer with every second until their minds touched.

“Razputin, I was not expecting you. Is something wrong?” Sasha Nein’s voice echoed through his head, and he got the sense he’d interrupted an important experiment.

“Sorry for bothering you, but I’ve got a problem,” he quickly replied, “I think it might have something to do with the mission too, but there’s a kid here who could really use my help. As in mental projection help. Really bad.”

“Troubling, but you know the rules,” came the clipped reply.

“I know, but—just feel this for a moment,” Raz answered, then let some of the chaos flow through him, using his natural telepathy talents to their full extent. Sasha, who was all for emotional control seemed stunned; Raz could almost feel him taking a moment to reorganize his mind. “We can’t just leave him like that, right Sasha?”

“That is drastic, and from a child… Razputin, I am going to consult with Agents Vodello and Cruller. In the meantime, keep this child safe and free from over-stimulation. See if there’s anything in the environment that could be contributing to his psychosis and eliminate it. I’ll contact you when I have more information.”

“Got it. Thanks Sasha,” he said, and felt the stoic psychic’s presence fade. Removing the goggles, he stood once more and looked sadly over at his newly-acquired ward, wondering what could have sent him over the edge. Maybe that other psychic kid had done something, but most kids weren’t that skilled with their powers to manipulate someone into a breakdown like this. The room probably held clues. As discreetly as he could, he began looking around. The first thing he noticed was there were definitely supposed to be three people here—Norman had a sleeping bag, and both the beds looked recently used. One bed was covered in scraps of paper, some organized into a timeline, and put Raz in mind of a certain conspiracy theorist he once knew, while the other had posters of teen stars and stuffed animals around it, suggesting a girl lived here too. Between the beds, there was a weird jar of eyes along with a crumpled suit on the floor. Now that was strange. Glancing over at Norman to make sure he was alright, he walked quietly over to the jar and opened it.

A familiar purple glow greeted him, and his jaw fell. Well, that would explain the psychosis. He quickly snapped the lid back on and stowed the jar in the bag he wore slung across his back, hoping it wouldn’t be missed considering it was up in the attic. At least someone had figured out glass could dampen psitanium’s psychoactive effects, and he was positive now: his mission, the other psychic, and Norman were all connected. The address he was supposed to go to could even be that kid’s house—all the more reason to get over there. If that kid was the one who’d bought a stolen psitanium meteorite on the black market, then there was more where this small chunk came from. But now there was the quandary of leaving to take care of the stolen meteorite, or staying and making sure Norman didn’t hurt anyone—or himself.

“Razputin,” Sasha’s voice was suddenly in his head again, and he focused on his mentor’s presence once more.

“Have you found anything else? The others want more information before we make a decision.”

“Oh man have I learned some stuff. Sasha, someone planted psitanium in here, and I think there might be other kids in trouble now too.”

“Disturbing...” his mentor replied, with enough inflection to show he really was unsettled. “Okay, Cruller trusts you to make the right decisions. I must warn you though, a child’s mind is still forming, and there are consequences if you do too much. Only touch what you absolutely must. Understand?”

 “Yes. How do I get in? Can I just use the psycho-portal?”

“No. That device’s safeguards can’t be altered. You’ll have to go in the old-fashioned way and bypass his natural defenses. It may be useful to try getting his permission first if you can get through to him, but be careful. He may not… react positively.”

“I’m rooting for you dear!” Milla cheered, suddenly in his head too. “We’ll all be in contact if you need help. Now go, save those poor children’s minds!”

“You got it!” Raz replied confidently, and the two agents left him to his work. Carefully, he approached the boy, trying to appear as disarming as he could and not sure it would work. It was hard to focus with so much negative energy in the room, but he had to make an attempt.

“Hey there…” he began. Norman glanced up, and he noticed how utterly done with life he looked.

“Go away.”

“No, listen. I can help you. I’m a psychic, I can go into other people’s heads and sort their mental problems out. I want to do that for you, but you have to let me in,” Raz explained, sitting so he didn’t seem so threatening by talking down at him. Norman narrowed his eyes and seemed to be thinking about what he’d said. The roil of emotions seemed to die for a moment as well, which was a good sign; a rational person was still in there somewhere.

“You’re not… making fun of me are you?”

“Why would I do that?”

“…I’m a freak… everyone knows that…”

“You seem pretty normal to me. I’m a psychic, remember? If anyone would be considered a freak… well, it’d be me,” Raz sighed. And he was born in a circus. He knew plenty of weird people, and Norman wasn’t one of them.

“Do you… talk to ghosts too?” Norman looked up again, something like hope in his voice, but Raz didn’t even know of anyone who talked to ghosts. He knew people who talked to squirrels, birds, fish, even plants—but not ghosts.

“Uh… no. But I think that makes you really cool!” he said quickly, and Norman looked conflicted.

“No one thinks I’m cool… I’m just a freak…” he muttered, putting his face back in his arms, and Raz felt he was losing him.

“I’ll prove that’s not true. Let me go inside your head, and then we’ll show everyone who thinks you’re weird they’re wrong. Deal?”

“Does it… hurt?”

“Nope! In fact, you won’t notice I’m here at all, and you’re gonna feel even better when I‘m done,” he said with a smile, and Norman seemed to think again, shutting his eyes.

“Okay…”

“Awesome. Just try to relax, and I’ll have you back to your old self in no time,” Raz grinned, pulling the goggles on once more, a trick to keep himself focused while in someone else’s psyche. After a moment of concentration, he felt his body seem to drift away, and made for the other mind he sensed in the room, coming against its walls and slipping through like they were nothing. He got the feeling they were only like that because someone had smashed them down ahead of him, but there was no time to dwell on that. A small clearing was melting into view, surrounded by tall, straight, black-barked trees under a yellow-green sky. The ground was dry and cracked, and worn tombstones stuck out at odd angles, their inscriptions only half-legible. Raz could already tell this was going to be interesting.