Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Finale

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.”

This is a preview! That's right, a preview! 

This is my design for a creature set to appear in the next major installment of my Mystery Kids ficverse (Can I say that? Is that right?), the splintercat! A creature from lumberjack folklore, it seems like the perfect candidate for a Gravity Falls appearance.

The basic legend is that they leap through trees at night, finding ones that house bee hives. The splintercat then launches itself into the tree headfirst, knocking all the branches and bark off, leaving ghostly barren stands. Because of the resulting headache from such a reckless attack, they are always in a foul mood and approaching one is ill-advised.

My ideas for it is that it's descended from saber-tooth cats; its powerful limbs and claws let it climb higher than most animals its size, and while it has a thickened skull it still suffers from chronic headaches. Thick fur that once insulated it from the cold now protects it from bee stings when it pursues its preferred food, though it's capable of hunting other prey should hives be in short supply. Like bears, they hibernate in winter, migrating to the mountains where their gray fur blends in better and they're less likely to be disturbed, even though they're already incredibly stealthy and rare.

Anyway, thank you all for sticking around, and I hope you're looking forward to the next part, despite how long it's taking! <3

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

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

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

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Mystery Kids: 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- Part 3

Here's the next part! It's a little short compared to some of the others, but hopefully it's a good read regardless.

(Also as the author I'm not so good at this, but if any of you need or can think of some trigger warnings I should tag this as that would be extremely helpful! Thank you!)

Gideon was trying to keep a level head. That psychic kid had turned out to be too smart for his own good. So maybe he couldn’t take the Shack just yet, but things were still in his favor. Stan would be busy all day, and their simpleton handyman was occupied with four flats and a dead battery. He’d check back later and hopefully find one fried psychic and a boy witch ready to do his bidding. Now, he had other things to take care of—two things, in particular.

 -------- 

Raz was taking a breather on one of the trees that had made up the forest. The ground had broken apart a while ago and scattered in all directions, most not horizontal, and hung over a misty green abyss. Climbing into the trees still imbedded in the blocks of earth was the only way ahead, but he tapped into his lifetime of balancing acts and easily scaled and vaulted through the shattered forest. At least he could see what looked like a town ahead, so standing again he leapt onto the next trunk, then the one below, then up to the next one before leaping off and using his levitation ball to float down to solid footing at last. With a couple more jumps across the void, he was on the outskirts.

Maybe he'd accidentally landed in the mind of a mortician, or a crypt keeper. Not a kid who looked about his age… then again, apparently he could talk to ghosts. Maybe death and dealing with it was just Norman’s thing. The buildings were all somber gray rock formed into headstones or stately gothic mausoleums, and what was apparently a theater even had an obelisk marquee. They all seemed to stick out at odd angles, and the dull green grass around them was unkempt. Besides an occasional dull rumble like distant thunder and his own footsteps, there was no sound. It was almost… peaceful. Not what he’d been expecting at all with so much external turmoil. But if there was a town, there were usually people…

A scream rang out from a side alley, and Raz zeroed in on it, running just in time to see something ethereal get stamped out by a swarm of censors— those obnoxious little businessman-looking fellows. At least they always looked that way to him; Sasha had once explained it all depended on his perception of someone else’s thoughts, and any variation he saw was a reflection of the censors’ actual appearance. They were part of a healthy mind, acting as antibodies and helping to keep out thought patterns that didn’t belong. This included him, but he’d never seen them attack other parts of their own environment.

He snuck closer, watching the group mill about aimlessly now that they saw nothing to attack, and realized that with their ragged clothes and exposed brains, they were supposed to be zombies. Despite the fitting resemblance, they should have faded now that their job was done, so why were they still hanging around? A flicker of movement caught his eye, and what he could only describe as a ghost tried to dart across the street. With a resounding chorus of ‘no’, the censors charged, and the spirit shrieked as it was set upon and mercilessly beaten out of existence. Raz almost felt sick; censors were part of a normal psyche, but these ones were… wrong.

His levitation ball popped up under his feet, and gathering speed he bowled through the goons, obliterating several and damaging the rest, which he finished off with a couple of open-handed strikes. Sweeping the street to make sure he’d really gotten them all, he noticed another ghost waving him into one of the gravestone buildings and hurried in before more enemies showed up.

The interior contrasted sharply with the landscape outside. Here, it was brightly lit in theatrical colors, and Raz had to blink to let his eyes adjust. An ethereal green middle-aged aviator woman sporting short black hair indicated a seat while she peeked out the door one last time, then withdrew and bolted it. Raz didn’t want to be impolite even if he was feeling a little pressed for time, so he sat, thinking maybe she could tell him what was going on.

“We’re so glad you’re here,” she said, giving a warm smile as she turned to face him, and he got a fine view of where a tree branch had run her through and still jutted out. He swallowed nervously, trying hard not to stare. These were probably memories of ghosts Norman actually knew.

“Yeah, what’s going on out there?” he asked, trying to focus on the task at hand, and the spirit sighed.

“Madness. We can’t get out, haven’t been able to for about two days now. If you try, you’re…”

“Beaten to… uh, not-death?”

“Yep. But you gave those things such a pummeling! I know you’re our ticket to freedom,” she said confidently, and he felt a little better.

“So, are you guys like… good memories then? ‘Cause most kids don’t have good memories of dead people.”

“You’re a sharp one!” she hooted. “For a long time, we were Norman’s only semblance of friends.”

“Oh geez,” Raz gasped. “What about the friends he has now? He’s gotta have a couple, right?”

“They were some of the first to go,” the aviator replied sadly. “Hadn’t been here as long, easier to kick out, you know? Everything else fell apart real quick after that.”

“Hm. Any idea how it all got started? I mean, Norman wasn’t always like this, was he?”

The aviator shook her head, looking somber. “He was always a sweetheart, but now…”

“I see. Thanks for the info. I promise everything’s gonna be back to normal soon,” he said firmly, standing, and the lady saluted as he headed out before bolting the door behind him. No more censors had shown up so he took a moment to get his bearings. If all these buildings were houses for ghosts…. He chuckled to himself, glad he’d found some humor in a grim situation.

It was a ghost town.

With that bit of levity to keep him going, he started off once more down the cobblestone road, eventually coming to the other side of town. It felt like it should have been bigger, but maybe that was one of the differences between an adult and child mind— adults had a lot more experience to incorporate into their mental worlds, whereas a kid was still growing. At least that meant things would probably be easier—less ground to cover. What lay ahead of him now was a sort of no-man’s land, barren black earth punctuated by broken wrought iron fencing and shattered tombstones. Beyond that, more floating islands, one particularly big one ruled by a sprawling, twisted leafless oak, and off in the distance what looked like a stereotypical haunted house.

Crossing the wasteland, he could make out what looked like a figure under the tree, and upped his pace. It wasn’t a censor, and it wasn’t a ghost either—maybe it was Norman’s mental impression of himself. Small stature, gravity-defying hair—seemed to fit the bill, though he looked more gaunt here than in the real world. He appeared to be contemplating the tree, and didn’t notice Raz approach until he was only a few yards away, almost to where the ground began to break up again.

“Norman!” Raz waved, but the ground shuddered and he froze, instantly cautious.

“Leave me alone.”

“Hey! You agreed to let me in. I’m just here to help!” he retorted, taking a slow step forward with hands outspread. He could see Norman’s mental projection looked just as worn out as his real self, and felt sorry for him.

“…No one can help me…”

“Except for me! Look, this is all in your head, and—” Raz was cut off as the ground vibrated again, and he realized he probably couldn’t have picked a poorer choice of words, even if he had been about to explain this was his element.

“That’s right! Everyone thinks I’m crazy! They don‘t know… they don‘t know what I…”

The ground split under Raz's feet, a livid green light blinding him as it burst through the dry soil. A sepulchral moan rose through the air, and a huge chasm appeared beneath him. He managed to latch onto the edge and started to clamber up, but the dry soil crumbled in his hands, sending him sliding backwards. A mass of rotting arms reached up, bony fingers wreathed in green flame curled around him, pulled him in, the reek of death, choking on dust—then nothing.

When Raz came to, he was in a dark room. Well, he presumed it was a room. The floor felt smooth, and it creaked when he moved, like wood. His head pounded, and he coughed, the stench of decay still in his nose. His energy felt disorganized, though that was nothing a little concentration couldn’t resolve, but it was like he‘d been put through a wringer. Standing, he tried to make out anything in the darkness beyond, and took a step forward.

A spotlight snapped on and suddenly he was on a cheap school stage, the air loaded with jeers and mocking laughter. Cries of ‘freak’ and ‘creep’ and worse obscenities came relentlessly at him from all sides. He tried yelling back, launched his own insults, but the voices only came back louder, more brutal, and he shrank back under the verbal assault. Some were really starting to hurt…. Searching the darkness for anything, he saw the glow of an exit sign and ran for it, the cacophony of voices ringing in his ears. The doors burst open under his hand, and he found himself in a school hallway—filled with school kid zombies.

They all slowly turned to stare at the newcomer, blank yellowed eyes lolling in their sockets, and step by wobbling step, they began making for him. Granted, they all looked like people with bad special effects makeup, but when a nearby one seized his wrist and began crushing it, he knew they meant business. Twisting free, Raz ducked back into the auditorium, but was met with the same wall of put-downs as before. Frowning, he slid back into the hall, once again surrounded by zombies, and went all out on them—a flurry of punches and psi-blasts that would have quickly torn through anything he’d faced so far. He cleared his little area and dusted off his hands proudly, the bits of zombie scattered around the floor slowly dissolving back into the energy they were supposed to be.

But then a huge, groaning mob rounded the corner, attracted by the noise and movement, and more stumbled out from the lockers that lined the walls. Raz swallowed hard, his back to the door. Was there another way through? No, only the crooked, undead-filled hall ahead, and he was out of space. They enclosed him, grabbing at his clothes and face, catching his limbs and suffocating his attempts to move. He grunted as one wrenched his arm painfully, then another latched onto his other shoulder with a vice-like hand, and more were pressing in to get a piece of him. He could feel his energy failing by the second, and knew he wouldn’t last under this siege unless he did something.

Thinking fast, he attacked to scatter the zombies and threw a shield up, forcing the goons to release their hold and giving him a chance to breathe. He held it for a while, doing his best to study the situation and see what he might be able to use. Unable to touch him, the zombies gave up and went back to shuffling down the halls. Now that was interesting…. Dropping the shield, he took a few steps and put it back up. It worked, but at this rate it’d take him forever to get out of here, and he’d eventually get tired of generating the shield—what then? Maybe….

He let the forcefield dissipate and switched to invisibility. One of the zombies who’d been watching him glanced around in confusion, paused… then shrugged and went back to its shambling un-life. He chuckled under his breath, then began running down the hall, dodging the undead kids as best he could before he wore his ability to cloak himself out. There was a room to his right, and he slipped in, expecting another assault on his ears, but the stained and peeling room was mercifully empty of anything but broken desks and chairs—the typical post-apocalyptic look. So this was how it was going to work. Well, he’d done this kind of thing before, and he could do it again.

Raz gradually made his way through the hellish school, dodging zombies and hopping from one dilapidated classroom to the next. The halls were getting narrower, more claustrophobic, and it was taking longer to edge around each hostile. Where he was now, he could see a small offshoot that looked like the way out. At the very least nothing was coming in or out of it, and that seemed promising. Steeling himself one last time, he cloaked himself and darted out of the classroom, edging around one zombie, then another. But a particularly broad and ponderous zombie stumbled into his path just as he made for the last few feet, forcing him to wait. Raz could only hold his breath as the mass of putrefying flesh ambled by, feeling his mind wearing out from staying invisible for too long. He wished he was good at it like some of his fellow psychic summer campers had been; sure, he was something of a prodigy, but that didn’t mean there weren’t things he needed to work on. Finally the path seemed clear, but his invisibility was also at an end.

A cluster of zombies gawked at him, and one raised a limp arm to point at him. It gurgled, and every other stiff in the hall turned to stare, including the large zombie Raz had nearly avoided. A putrid hand connected with his face, interrupting his attempt to put up a shield, and he was slammed against the lockers and allowed to fall to the grimy tile. The zombies laughed—well, gasped, croaked, sobbed—whatever stood in for laughter when you were dead and rotting. Then the rest attacked.

Raz finally crawled into the hall minus a couple layers of his astral energy and feeling drained. If this was anything close to what public schools were like, he was glad he’d never gone to one. He sat for a while limply propped against the wall, panting and trying to give his mind a break before rising again to continue. It was dark, but vacant and a welcome rest even if he had to feel his way along the walls. There was a corner, then another one, a twist, a long straight bit—but it didn’t seem to end. Grumbling, he kept going. At least there wasn’t anything he had to fight down here. All the same, he hoped it wasn’t a dead end either, for all the obvious reasons. He was about to give up and head back when his hand met a pole, and that pole turned into the rail of a ladder. Finally! He took to it eagerly, but again, it seemed to go on forever. No light, no end—what kind of mindscape was this?

His head knocked against a ceiling, and he rubbed it reflexively as he tried to figure out if he’d missed something. It didn’t give when he pushed his hand against it, but it’d sounded like wood when he’d hit it. He gave it an experimental rap, and sure enough, it was wood. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. If zombies were the theme here…

A telekinetic hand burst through the earth, and Raz hoisted himself up through the hole, glad to be breathing fresh air at last. Just as he had suspected, he’d emerged in a graveyard outside of town. Brushing dirt from his jacket, he shook his head, bemused. This Norman kid… what to do with him? Well, besides finish helping him of course. Massaging his twisted arm, he set off again, making for the no-man’s land, the tree, and the house where Norman was almost certainly hiding.

Raz had no patience for the new swarm of censors that had cropped up. They were now in the process of attacking the houses themselves, with varying degrees of success. With a sinking feeling, he realized the aviator lady’s door had been broken in…. He plowed through the main body of censors on his levitation ball and set the rest on fire, watching them scatter in a panic with his arms folded, grimly satisfied. Chances were these memories were only being suppressed and not forgotten outright, but regardless he was going to make sure the rest were safe.

Reaching the no-man’s land, he noted the blackened scar left by the eruption earlier and cautiously inched by it, not wishing to repeat his experience, then ran the rest of the way to the edge. Hopping the gaps, he came to the weathered oak and saw something engraved in the bark. A few phrases had been scratched out, and something else carved in crudely below it: a mandate to Norman telling him to forget he’d ever trusted anyone, that he’d ever had friends, that he was ever anything more than a freak.

“So that’s where all that came from…. Man, now I really want to know how all this happened.” Raz thought aloud. He ran his hands over the gouged-in words, wondering how to get rid of them. The tips of his fingers tingled, detecting a different person’s energy in the words, and he started to piece together what might have happened to Norman to make him like this. Probably with a psitanium-enhanced round of hypnosis, someone else had set the mandate into his subconscious and let the psychoactive mineral do the rest—just like in True Psychic Tales #253. It was insidious and brilliant; if that kid from earlier really was responsible, he was dealing with something even worse than he’d assumed. And if others were in danger, he didn’t have any time to spare.

Sitting on one of the exposed roots, he concentrated. Telepathy was hard enough, but trying to do it from someone else’s mind was especially difficult, and he wasn’t sure he could just summon Cruller’s projection like he had in times past. Besides, Sasha probably had a better idea of what to do about ingrained hypnosis. Tuning out distant thundering, he homed in on his mentor’s presence and managed to establish a connection.

“Razputin, you’re very faint,” the scientist finally responded after what felt like hours. “What’s happening?”

“This kid was hypnotized, and I need to get rid of the suggestion. It’s what made him go crazy.”

“Hmm. That’s not how hypnosis works, it doesn’t alter minds so drastically.”

“Yeah, but psitanium does.”

“True. Does the suggestion look like an object you can destroy? Sometimes that’s how they manifest.”

“It’s carved into a really big tree. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t destroy that.”

“No, that definitely sounds bad. It will probably be up to him to heal that damage. Do you think you’ve made any progress?”

“Hard to say. I got dragged underground and mauled by a bunch of kid zombies.”

“…Hmm. Well, you may make a breakthrough yet. Keep trying, and remember to be careful. Don‘t do anything rash.”

“Yeah, got it.” Raz answered, and let the connection fade. He’d leave the tree for now then, and focus on what he could do. Sighing, he stood and faced the house looming in the distance. It was time to talk to Norman.

Concept Art Time!

As promised, here are the drawings I did when coming up with Norman's mental world and the stories behind them! 

When I was first starting out, before much of this fic was written at all, I thoroughly browsed this section of Psycadet's Mystery Kids blog, and owe many of my headcanons to the thoughts and discussions held within. Definitely check it out~

So when it finally came time to seriously think about the mindscape I'd be writing, I approached it as though it were a real Psychonauts level-- what powers would be used, what skills, even some figments though I'd already decided to keep most of the more "gamey" aspects out of the fic. The result of my brainstorming was this mishmash:

You'll probably need to open that in another tab or something to see details, but there it is: the back of a full 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of paper filled. I'm a little embarrassed since I can draw both Raz and Norman much better now, but I just have to tell myself it's concept art it doesn't have to be neat. ><

Anyway, next up is a color visualization I did:

It was pretty fun to do, and I have one for each of the kids. ;3 Maybe I'll do an 'after' too, to show what their minds are like normally.

I also occasionally illustrate scenes, so have a Raz convincing Norman to let him inside his head to wrap things up.

Thanks for reading~!