Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 6

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 6

Another part that changed a lot in editing, it's kind of a lot shorter, but hopefully still a good read. :3

Raz found himself in a world that was essentially the opposite of Mabel’s mind. He stood in a large room lined by tall bookshelves—empty ones, because their contents were currently heaped on the floor like old leaves. The ceiling opened to a soft rust-orange sky, and huge trees sank their twisting roots into the piles of books along the walls and cast most of the understory in shadow, while moss and ferns carpeted anywhere not buried in books. The colors were muted; not exactly dull, but everything had a misty, almost ephemeral look. The air felt heavy and damp, and pale turquoise mist drifted just above the ground, coming up to Raz’s waist in some spots. With silence pressing in, it seemed the place had been abandoned for years, and the forest had come to claim what had always belonged to it.

A cluttered hall opened directly ahead, so he started off, heading into the mist and almost immediately coming to another hall that ran perpendicular to the first. One way looked as good as the next, so he headed right, feeling a little bad for all the books he was crumpling underfoot. At least they weren’t real ones, so he continued undaunted, eventually coming to a place where the floor warped and sank into a murky pool, its dark glassy surface dotted by floating pages. It was impossible to tell how deep it was, and he didn’t really want to find out first hand. Some other way across seemed likely. The fallen tree that had lodged in the upper shelves looked promising, caked as it was in moss and vines that trailed down to the water’s edge. Looking past the log, he saw more vines strung down the hall beyond and grinned—he’d found his way through.

Climbing up was a piece of cake, and Raz made sure his footing was steady before judging the distance and leaping to the first vine. Swinging his legs, he built up his momentum and flung to the next one, and the next, making it look effortless as he vaulted over the sunken floor. Making it to the other side, Raz dusted his hands and headed on, taking a sharp left, and then another into a longer hall. Except for his footsteps it was eerily quiet, but a sense of being watched persisted, and he found himself glancing over his shoulder more than once. Of course there was never anything there.

The hall finally opened up into another squarish room, scattered with a few broken tables and decrepit chairs. But here the floor was clear, with rich moss filling the gaps between tan stone tiles in an emerald grid. Raz walked to the center of the room and looked around, perplexed. There wasn’t another way out, and with no way to climb back up to the vines he couldn’t go back the way he came either. But he liked a good puzzle, and it was pretty obvious that was what this room was. The shelves were still empty, so nothing was hidden there. That left the floor and furniture.

The tables and chairs, though splintered and stained from age, refused to break if he punched them, but they could be moved, and Raz wondered if he could stack them high enough to reach the top of the shelves and run up there. There was no harm in trying, so he piled them as high as he could and scaled the rickety pile. But even bouncing with levitation he still came up short. Dropping back on the floor, Raz studied his construction again to see if there was any way he could make it higher, but it was pretty clear he just didn’t have enough stuff.

“So much for that,” he sighed, lowering his gaze in disappointment. “Hm?”

Something looked odd about one of the tiles under a table leg. Getting on his hands and knees, he crawled under to investigate and found the tile had sunk under the tower’s weight. Heedless of any danger he reached over and pressed it. The stack of furniture creaked above him, but a deeper grinding sound caught his attention before stopping with a clunk. Nothing else happened, but Raz grinned. Extracting himself from under the table, he sped around the room, stomping on tiles to see if he got more to budge.

With a grand total of seven hidden buttons, a section of the wall trembled and sank into the floor. Raz congratulated himself on a job well done and ventured down the new hall, which looked about the same as the others, though it was a little foggier here. It also took more twists and turns, to the point that Raz thought he could be lost. The forest was thicker here too, with whole sections of floor overgrown by grass and ferns, the trees overhead casting heavy shadows, their roots so thick down the sides of the bookcases that passage was a tight squeeze in some places. The close quarters and ever-present sense of being watched was making Raz antsy; he kept thinking he saw things darting through the shadows, so when a troop of censors suddenly appeared in front of him he nearly jumped out of his skin. But he was grateful for the action and dealt with them handily before turning back to navigating the forest.

Extracting himself from a tangle of roots, he tripped and tumbled onto his back. Blinking, he found a pair of wide, pale yellow eyes staring back at him before whatever they belonged to darted into the fog with a skittering sound. Raz sprang to his feet and chased after whatever it was through considerably clearer halls, stumbling over the occasional loose book but managing to keep the little dark blur in sight. It moved erratically, darting from side to side and sometimes up the shelves before stumbling and dropping back to the floor, all without breaking its pace until finally they reached a dead end. It tried scampering up the wall, but Raz seized it with a projected hand and brought it closer to get a good look at it.

It seemed to resemble a nightmare, with wide glowing eyes and a shimmering, sleek dark body; but it looked more like cross between a lizard and a centipede with multiple pairs of undulating stick-like legs. Its small pointed face had a jagged mouth that ran all the way to its short neck, and was adorned with two long, twitchy feelers. Its tail was long and thin, and split into three tendrils about a third of the way down that matched the antennae on its head in both appearance and movement. It struggled frantically, hissing quietly while Raz observed it.

“Well you don’t look so bad,” he commented, squinting at the little creature. “Definitely not as bad as a nightmare, though you’re still creepy. Still, you’re not trying to kill me so… guess I can let you go.”

Before he had a chance to, the creature’s hiss grew into a roar of static, and Raz realized that’s what it had always sounded like. Bursting out of his grasp, the critter’s form expanded and changed color, warping until Raz was faced with whole new beast: a huge gnome monster made of an army of actual gnomes. He stared at it in confusion until it bellowed and took a ponderous step in his direction, his cue to run.

While the gnome-monster was slow, space was limited, and Raz found himself going in circles, running into the monster more often than not. He tried blasting it, but only managed to knock off a couple gnomes at a time; the whole creature was made of more gnomes than he had ammo for. Unsure what else to do, he kept running and hoped something would come to him as he dodged the gnomes the larger mass flung at him. Almost rabid in their attacks, the tiny humanoids would try to latch onto him and tear at his face and clothes, but they were a lot like censors and disappeared after a few solid punches.

Raz took a left and finally found a new hall. With the monster still in pursuit, he charged down it hoping it led to a solution. It turned to the right, and Raz uttered a cry as he realized it ended in an impossible heap of books, the shelf tipped over by a determined tree. Scaling the pile, he tried to make a way through only to meet disappointment as more books slid in to replace the ones he dug away. Thundering footsteps echoed behind him, and he knew he’d be in trouble if he didn’t think of something soon. Turning, he watched the conglomerate gnome lumber into view and wracked his brain for what he could do to defeat it. Shooting it didn’t work, and punching took him a little too close for comfort. There was nothing to throw at it, and even pyrokinesis would be hard to pull off. It was pretty clear to him he needed to beat it, so his non-offensive powers wouldn’t work… which left confusion. It wasn’t exactly an offensive technique either, and he didn’t use it much in combat, but at this point it was worth a shot.

Summoning a packet of the highlighter-yellow energy to his hand, he aimed carefully and lobbed it. The packet sailed in a graceful arc and exploded squarely in the hulking creature’s face and wreathed it in sickly green smoke. Wobbling drunkenly and raising a cry, the gnomes collapsed into a heap, and Raz cheered before practically dive-bombing them on his levitation ball. The confused gnomes vanished under him as he rolled through until there was only one left, trying to scramble away. Raz didn’t hesitate to hit it too though, and it reverted to the little skittery creature before fading away.

“Guess I should’ve expected something like that to happen. Now, there’s gotta be some way through here…” he said to himself, studying the heap of books a little more closely now that he didn’t have a gnome monster bearing down on him. There was still no obvious way in, and he couldn’t jump over the tangle of tree roots, so this seemed to be another puzzle. Thinking about what could be done with books, and a lot of them, Raz wondered why he’d tried digging his way through at all. Skidding down the side, he stood a safe distance away and focused. Orange flames sprung from the heap, and soon a tunnel had burned its way through, just big enough for him to crawl in. It came out into another barren hall, but this looked like a straight shot to another room.

Mystery Kids: Horror

This was a silly idea I had a while ago, and just couldn't let go. So. Enjoy the silly.

Summary: Knowing her friends' interests, Mabel hosts Summerween: Part Two, and Raz discovers a talent he's not sure he's happy to have-- nor is the rest of the group.

“Okay, since you guys missed Summerween, I was thinking we could have our own sorta Halloween-themed party to make up for it,” Mabel said, plopping down amidst the group gathered around the TV, and they gave her a collective look of confusion.

               “Summerween? Sounds kinda… weird,” Lili said, frowning, but Mabel handed her a scrapbook.

               “No way! It’s all the awesomeness of Halloween with the added benefits of summery goodness. Plus Halloween is only the best holiday ever so we should totally celebrate it more than once. We’ve already got the makings of the best Summerween party ever right here,” she explained, and gestured around the room. “Scary movies brought to you by Norman, costume contest judged by yours truly, scary stories and monsters with Raz and my bro—it’d be perfect!”

               “I’m down for that,” Norman said, breaking into a smile, and Dipper nodded.

               “Yeah, and hopefully no candy monster this time. We might have to forget costumes though since the store closed. And also we’re permanently banned from it anyway.”

               “Hmm… okay then, how about… your best evil laugh? I dunno, it’s gotta be something fun but also Halloween-y.”

               “Stan might question our sanity, but he’s been doing that anyway,” Lili said with a smirk. “Sounds good to me.”

               “Alright. Let the preparations begin!” Mabel declared, punching the air, and the room burst with a flurry of activity.

               Dipper helped locate the old decorations, then helped the two psychics deck the living room out while Norman began selecting their movie lineup, a mix between his favorites and ones he knew they’d all enjoyed. With the décor set, Raz went with Mabel to pick out candy from the nearby convenience store; they managed to come back with three bags of the stuff thanks to a buy-two-get-one-free sale and a moldy-looking ten dollar bill they’d found in the cushions of the recliner. Everything was set, and with an air of great ceremony, they closed the blinds, shut off the lights, and started the first movie.

               Three films later they were ready for a break; the first bowl of candy was practically gone and Norman had started things off with some real chillers. Mabel came downstairs with Waddles in his businessman outfit, and Raz blinked at him before scratching behind the pig’s ears; so that’s where those had come from. Dipper passed around sodas for everyone, and they agreed it was time for scary stories. Lili was in the middle of one about a hideous creature that went around at night stealing the brains of unsuspecting children when Soos poked his head in.

               “’Sup dudes! What’s goin’ on? It looks all spooky in here,” he said, admiring the room’s new furnishings before stepping in.

               “Soos! We’re having an unofficial Summerween part two!” Mabel answered brightly, and the handyman’s face lit up.

               “Sweet! Mind if I join in?” They made room for him on the floor, and he helped himself to some of the candy. “So what’re we doing?”

               “Scary stories, not all of which are true,” Norman explained, “but we won’t tell you which ones.”

               “Excellent. Let the storytelling continue.”

               And so it did until they were ready for more silver screen horrors, which Norman was happy to supply. Eventually it got late though, and they were almost out of sweets. It was the perfect time for a contest.

               “Okay, so since the only one here with a costume is Waddles, I’m thinking we go with the evil laugh contest. We heard some good ones today, so we should all be inspired,” Dipper said, turning to the group, and his sister nodded.

               “Definitely. So! We can all go in a circle or something, and whoever has the best one as judged by all of us wins. Who wants to go first?”

               “Dude! Dude! Me! Pick me!” Soos waved his arm like a kindergartener who knew the answer before anyone else did.

               “Let’s hear it!” Mabel cheered, and he obliged, though it was only a slightly harsher version of his usual guffaws. They all clapped and looked to the next person in line—Norman. He got points for trying, but his voice was ultimately too light to really hold up. Dipper was next, and managed to be the most successful yet, turning an unfortunate break in his voice into an escalation of madness instead. He high-fived his sister before it was her turn, but her attempt sounded forced—there wasn’t an evil bone in her body, they decided. Last came the psychics’ turns. Lili produced the greatest banshee cackle they’d ever heard, truly an outstanding performance, but Raz of all people was hesitant. He made various false starts before giving an apologetic shrug.

               “Sorry guys,” he finally said, and Lili patted him on the back.

               “Ya gotta give it a shot,” Mabel pleaded. “Even I tried and we agreed I should never try to laugh like a mad scientist again.”

               “I don’t even know where to start though,” he reasoned, and this time Dipper looked disappointed.

               “We just watched some of the greatest examples of overdramatic villainous laughter you could ask for, and I’m pretty sure you’ve fought at least one bad guy who laughs at anything. You’ve got all kinds of examples man.”

               “I know… just give me a moment. Maybe it’s just performance anxiety making me blank.”

               “It’s not a test…” Lili trailed, looking skeptical.

               “I know, but I wanna do a good one. If I do, I’m going all out.”

               They fell quiet as he concentrated and took a few breaths to relax, then a smirk crossed his face as he pulled the goggles over his eyes. He really was taking this seriously.

               It started as a quiet chuckle, then in one breath roared into the most deranged laughter anyone in the room had ever heard. Even Lili backed away as it rose to a frightening crescendo, then finally died away with a final long, hoarse note. Then Raz cleared his throat—and hid his face, even though most of it was already covered by the goggles. They sat in stunned silence until Soos finally broke it.

               “Dude. That was intense.”

               “Raz wins,” Mabel squeaked from where she hid behind her brother’s shoulder, and they all fervently nodded.

               “I’m dating a madman…” Lili trailed; that got Raz’s attention. He broke from hiding, removing his goggles and taking her hand in his, genuinely worried until she punched him lightly.

               “Sorry. Guess I really did go all out,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “In all fairness, I had no idea I could even sound like that, so it sorta scared me too.”

               “I, for one, am glad Raz is a good guy,” Dipper said, and they all nodded again. “Though I guess if he was a bad guy he’d have the laugh down pat.”

               “Dude, maybe he was evil, in like a past life or something,” Soos proposed, looking thoughtful.

               “Who knows. All the stuff we’ve seen, anything’s possible,” Dipper replied. “Anyway, on that note I think we can declare this party a success. Better clean up before Stan comes in and yells at us.”

               The man in question was standing just outside the door, his back plastered against the wall and horror spread across his face. He’d been intending to join the kids in their little Summerween sequel; after all he loved the holiday himself, and he hadn’t gotten time to bond with his niece and nephew lately what with running the Shack, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity. But now….

People had always talked about the voice of reason, but Stan Pines was wondering if he’d just heard the voice of insanity instead, and it belonged, ironically enough, to a kid frequently tasked with curing it. His eyes widened as he considered the implications, then trudged off, doing his best to forget everything he’d heard in the last ten minutes.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Finale

Yep, it's the end, but only of this particular tale. Hope you've enjoyed everything so far, and thank you for reading!

“Whew, gotta take a breather,” Gideon panted to himself, leaning against a tree with his free hand. The other was getting tired after being curled around the amulet for so long, so he quickly switched, careful not to release his aces in doing so. He was pleased both had kept quiet the whole way; while Norman was tolerable if an idealist, the psychic had a voice that grated on his ears no matter what, and noisy hostages were annoying anyway.

“Now to find those Pines brats,” he muttered once he’d sufficiently recovered; that fool Dipper had left a trail plain as day even as the sun sank low, the sky orange and soon to fade darker. And only a fool got lost in the woods at night. Rustling ahead made him quicken his pace; surely he was close now, and then that boy wouldn‘t know what hit him.

Mabel lay in wait while Dipper acted as bait and made the brush move, drawing their foe right where they wanted him. Her grip tightened around the molded handle of the grappling hook, waiting to pull the line taut when he passed by, and there were only a few yards left. Hopefully their captured friends wouldn‘t mind a bit of a drop once Gideon let them go. Good thing there was plenty of fluffy-looking bushes and other woodland plants to cushion them. Squinting, she tried to make them out from her hiding place and couldn’t help but think they reminded her of balloons being toted just below the branches. Hopefully Raz wasn’t reading her mind right now. He did look pretty calm for a hostage, floating with eyes closed and legs crossed as though this was a regular thing for him. Norman looked more resolute than anything, his brows lowered and fists balled, but at least he seemed okay.

So when the first flickers of lightning streaked through him, Mabel felt heartsick. How could he be going through all of that—the nightmares, the terrible emotions—again? Dipper broke cover entirely and seemed dumbstruck, but Gideon was too concerned with his key bargaining chip suddenly igniting to notice. Taking several steps back as the lightning intensified, he brandished the amulet, waving it pathetically at the medium as he hollered commands.

“I didn't tell ya t’ do that! You obey me! Stop it this instant or you’ll get what’s comin’ to ya, you freak a’ nature!

There was no answer. The twins traded worried glances, but then it dawned on them that it wasn’t rage but intense focus that twisted Norman’s face as he struggled to channel the electricity. Gideon would have to try harder to break him, and it seemed that was what he went for. After dodging a few near-misses, he whirled around to face his would-be minion and drew as much power as he could from the psitanium to perform what he had planned.

The stone faded to a dull violet instead of lending its strength.

He had a moment to stare at it before Norman hit his mark and the amulet was shot from his hand. The two captives dropped, vanishing into a bank of ferns while Gideon scurried for his tie, which had bounced into the leaf litter somewhere. It also took him conveniently close to the grappling hook line. Darting to his sister’s side, Dipper grabbed the rope, and they hauled on it together as their rival crossed. Gideon stumbled and landed face-first in the dirt—their plan couldn’t have worked better if they’d asked. Jumping up from the hiding spot, Mabel sat on Gideon to restrain him while Dipper searched for the amulet and uttered a triumphant laugh when he found it tucked under a rotten log. There was no easy place to smash it here, so he tucked the sinister object into an inner pocket where Gideon would be hard pressed to reach it.

Raz helped pull Norman out of the ferns and assessed the situation while the medium caught his breath, bent with hands on his knees. Even with the psychic’s help, controlling that much power had drained him; all he wanted to do now was go home and sleep, and he even decided the ‘go home’ part was optional, but they weren’t quite done yet. Raz approached where despite feeble kicks and whining pleas Gideon’d had no success in shaking Mabel off, and gave her a thumbs-up before lifting their foe by his collar once she’d hopped up.

“If it was up to me you’d never see the light of day again, but I think my superiors are gonna want to talk to you first,” Raz huffed, and Gideon laughed in his face.

“You’re the government agent? What kind of fool do you take me for? You must be stupid if y’ think I’ll listen to you.”

“You know, you really shouldn't argue with the guy who can set your hair on fire just by thinking about it,” Raz retorted, and Dipper cleared his throat to interrupt.

“That’s great, but can we get home now? Norman looks like a zombie.”

“Kinda feel like one too,” he added, managing a grin.

“Ahh! And we’re out of ammo! Quick, throw Gideon to him so we can escape!” Mabel teased, and despite everything they’d been through the group managed to share a laugh while the one responsible for their troubles could do nothing but seethe. Once the grappling hook and the inactive psitanium had been collected, they headed back through the twilit woods, using a combination of the paths they’d already left and Raz’s excellent memory to navigate. Besides the occasional grumble from Gideon, the walk was almost pleasant. The lights they spotted finally poking through the trees spilled out from the Mystery Shack and beckoned them in. But something else got their attention first.

“Aw yeah!” Raz cheered; a sleek private jet with the Psychonauts insignia was a welcome sight, parked as it was in the clearing adjacent to the tourist trap. “This is awesome! We took care of the bad guy, and you get to meet my mentors! Well, one of them anyway—looks like it’s just Sasha.”

“His name is Sasha?” Dipper said skeptically, indicating the imposing figure who stood waiting for them just in front of the plane.

“Yeah, what else would it be?”

Dipper frowned but didn't reply. They were about to meet someone obviously Raz looked up to, and that meant he was probably a great psychic too. Hopefully he hadn’t been thinking too loud just then; talk about embarrassing. They hurried up the dark-clad man, Raz eager to report while the others were curious to meet another psychic.

 “It’s good to see you all up and about,” Sasha said as the kids gathered around him, a rare smile on his face. “From what Razputin told me you were all facing some very serious mental trauma. And Mabel, negative eight.”

“Whoa…” she gasped, then grinned; while Dipper had been hoping he wouldn't read his mind, Mabel had wanted him to from the start. No one but a real psychic could guess the number she was thinking of and her name.

“So this child is the cause of the problem?” Sasha approached Gideon, who was still suspended a couple feet off the ground. “Ach, I can already feel his anger. Young man, explain yourself.”

“Well y’ see, I was simply tryin’ t’—”

“I can sense you lying, you know.”

Unable to worm his way out with words and unwilling to admit any wrongdoing, Gideon clammed up and glared at the ground.

“I’m afraid the museum this was from is going to have to find another piece of psitanium, or just be happy with one tiny piece. The only way I could get the rest of it back was if Gideon didn’t have a use for it anymore,” Raz sighed before he handed the darkened stone and smaller chunk over, and Sasha took hold of Gideon as well.

“You did what was most beneficial to you and your friends. The museum had it for a nearby university to study. If they truly need data, the Psychonauts are more than capable of providing it. You managed to save a portion, and perhaps even inert psitanium can still be of use to them. The important thing is that you once again performed beyond the task assigned.”

“Thanks Sasha,” Raz said, reassured. “So what are we gonna do with Gideon? Lock him up? Or can we fix his brain, because I think he seriously needs it.” The others agreed wholeheartedly.

“Well, it’s against guidelines to imprison him, and while it may be beneficial to ‘fix’ his brain, as you so eloquently put it, he does not appear to have extenuating circumstances as your friends did. Is he always such an active threat?”

“Well… not really,” Dipper replied, looking to his sister who also shrugged. “Unless he’s got that amulet he’s never been much of a problem—not one we couldn‘t handle anyway.”

“I see. An amulet? Do you still have it?”

“Yeah.” He handed the tie over, and the scientist examined it curiously.

“Fascinating. I’m not familiar with the stone, but it clearly has some kind of psychic presence. Do you know its provenance? No? Well, I’ll run some tests and ensure it is contained. As for Gideon…” he trailed, tucking the amulet into his pocket while he thought.

“Agent Nein, if I may make a suggestion?”

“Yes, Razputin?”

“If I stick around or visit once and a while, I could keep an eye on Gideon. But there’s also a lot more going on in Gravity Falls than this, and I want to investigate. Dipper’s already been looking into it for a while, but something tells me he could use backup. Lili’s going to want to come too, if that’s okay.”

“I can’t mention the specifics but Gravity Falls has been on our list. You’re not needed at camp immediately, so I think you could stay for a few days; I’ll run it by Cruller when I return to base.”

“Isn't Grunkle Stan gonna be mad if another random kid shows up at the Shack? He didn’t like Norman so much at first…” Mabel said, poking her fingers together.

“He’d probably make him do his own psychic show, or hold séances with Norman just to draw more people in,” Dipper said with a half-hearted laugh, and Mabel nodded.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Sasha said, something like a sly grin at the corners of his mouth. “Come, let’s go inside. You all need rest, and it seems I have much to discuss with your guardian.”

“What about me?” Gideon piped up, putting on his best innocent look. “I’ll—I’ll make a deal.”

“We’ll talk once I've finished here. You will wait in the jet for now, and I will know if you touch anything, much less break it. And if you are able to purchase a rare meteorite on the black market, I’ll assume you can also pay for any damages. Understood?” Sasha said, voice taking on an intimidating tone as he addressed the troublemaker, stern face and unreadable glasses only adding to the effect. Gideon nodded, eyes wide. Satisfied he’d made an impression, Sasha lifted him into the jet and sealed the door, then turned to the kids and clasped his hands together. “Now that he’s out of the way—care to show me in?”

“Right this way, Mr. Nein! We’ve got ya covered. So why are you called ‘nein’? Are you like, the ninth Psycho-guy ever? Whoa, does that mean Raz has a number for a last name too?” Mabel asked, and Dipper covered his face.

“Uh… no. It’s German,” Sasha replied patiently.

“And mine’s Aquato, to clarify,” Raz added as they headed up the Shack’s stairs to the gift shop. They found the door was locked, but once Dipper knocked it was nearly ripped from its hinges as Soos rushed to open it and scooped them up in a bear hug—even Raz got caught in it, though Sasha managed to sidestep the handyman’s reach. Holding back tears he tried to apologize for falling asleep on watch, but Mabel shushed his blubbering and they agreed to talk about it later.

“Who’s at the door?” Stan shouted from the living room.

“It’s the kids, Mr. Pines, and a mysterious stranger,” Soos promptly replied, and they heard what seemed to be muffled swearing.

“How important is he?”

“Very,” Sasha answered for himself. “I have a proposal for you, Mr. Pines. I’d like to discuss it now if you’re willing.”

“A proposal? If it doesn’t involve money I’m not interested.”

“It could. Or I could just leave and you wouldn’t get anything either way,” he reasoned, and passed the kids a knowing smile. He’d dealt with enough shady underground types to know just how to push Stan’s buttons, no psychic powers needed—though they certainly helped. A frustrated growl and the sound of footsteps stomping through elsewhere in the house seemed to indicate Stan was getting himself decent before making an appearance. Soos waved them in out of the bugs, and Mabel promptly flopped on the floor.

“Mystery Shack, how I've missed your splintery floors and musty smell.”

Stan finally entered, paused to acknowledge the Mabel on the floor, then greeted Sasha in his most businessman-like manner, suggesting they take things to the office. This left the kids to relate their stories to Soos to pass the time, as no doubt the two men would be at it for a while. They were enthralled as Raz related his adventures through the others’ mindscapes, then all took turns describing what happened once everyone was back and actively involved in the tale.

“Makes me wonder what Gideon’s mind looks like,” Soos wondered when they’d finished. “Lil’ dude’s probably got some majorly twisted stuff in there.”

“I wanna know too, but unless they okay psychic testing on him we’ll probably never know,” Raz answered with a shrug. “Like I said, it’s usually illegal.”

“Fair enough.”

It was decided that they should all go to bed whether Sasha and Stan finished their discussion or not; if they weren't talking the twins were nodding off and Norman couldn't keep his eyes open. But the door to the office clattered open and Sasha stepped out, soon followed by their caretaker. They waited expectantly for the announcement—what deal had the agent made with the con man?

“Mr. Pines has agreed to host you, Razputin. He will receive a stipend to cover housing you, what would normally be considered travel fees for an extended mission. I expect you to return to camp when asked, but you are free to come and go as you like. Understand?”

“Yes, Agent Nein. Do I have to do any paperwork, or reports or something? That stuff’s boring.”

“We've been over how it is necessary to document your activities,” Sasha wearily sighed, “but for this situation, only if you find something interesting.”

“There should be plenty,” Dipper said, and Raz shot him a look. Paperwork was not something he enjoyed.

“Now, I must go deal with Gideon. Pines family, Norman, Jesús—it was a pleasure meeting you; we’ll be in contact. Good evening.”

“See ya!” The kids waved farewell, then noticed the awestruck Soos.

“He… he guessed my name!” he gasped, watching the tall fellow walk back to the plane. “Raz, you know some cool dudes.”

“’Cause I am one,” he replied with a smirk, and they all chuckled.

“So if you guys are gonna go investigate stuff around town, guess I gotta call you the Mystery Kids, since y’know, you’re not all twins huh?”

“If you squint, Raz and Norman could be related,” Mabel said, doing just that. The two in question looked at each other skeptically.

“No.”

“Yeah, the hair’s a dead giveaway.”

“Did you really—”

“Yes.”

“So Mystery Kids?” Soos smiled, holding out a fist.

Dipper glanced around at his friends, then met Soos’—and everyone else’s—outstretched knuckles in a collective fist bump. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

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.

Oh man, there are 50 of you now!! Thank you so much!

So, for old and new followers alike, I have a question, or more accurately a couple ideas I've been kicking around.

First off, I do have fics in the works as I've mentioned before, but most are moving a bit more slowly than I'd hoped-- the longer ones certainly are. However, I do have one shorter fic that though unresolved, I still feel like I could post and you guys would enjoy it! So the question is, would you guys like to read it even if it isn't done? I promise it doesn't cut off anywhere heart-wrenching. ;3

Secondly, I've slowly been working on my headcanons for the kids, and my page on the blog for that is currently empty; I should probably fix that right?

Reblogging from my main account as it is relevant and to show that yes, I'm still alive and making things. :3

Instead of something actually productive I did this.