The B Team

by PaxwellCallow (PaxCallow)

Summary:

When members of a seemingly innocuous small-town psychology-enthusiast's club go missing, the matter invades the minds of two young psychics, who take it upon themselves to get to the bottom of the disappearances and bring everyone home.

They're not the best at what they do. Not even remotely close. But they'll do their best.

NOTE: ABANDONED, sorry. :[ (WAS a Psychonauts fanfic, but made it "Original Work" to keep the tag clean.) From thinking about them so hard, the characters herein were warped such that they became original characters. The characters aren't abandoned if that makes you feel any better! I love them and am going nuts with them! They just have different names and an original universe with a bunch of changes to it. Still workin' on other stuff if you want to see!

Chapter 1: Smart Kids

Notes:

special thanks to robin nightmares and jessica wells.

thank you for B-ing my Team.

CLASSIFIED

 

MISSION: CODENAME POTLUCK

CLASS: LOCAL C

LOCATION: SHAKESTONE, NW, UC

 

FILE TYPE: COOPERATIVE MEMORY ACCOUNT [1.PrT.O]

 

FILE: TALWAR, D. MEMORY ACCOUNT 0001

 

                The human mind.

                (… Huh, it really is just typing out everything I think. Freaky.)

                Here’s the thing about it.

                I could go off into statistics about it, wax poetic about what it really is and what its purpose is, but for this? The most important thing I have to say right now is… the human mind has limits. There’s only so much it can take.

                … What?

                What d’you mean, unnecessary? I’m setting the stage here, dude! Look, this whole thing was a clusterfoul. (I’d say the swear one but my mom would get mad.) It’ll take a lot- I mean a lot- to adequately explain how what went down went down with who and why.

                Besides being born, this may be the most important thing that’s happened to me. This… almost-calamity, mistake of science and nature, occasionally disturbing and frankly ridiculous series of events- that’s the whole reason you called me here to begin with? It was messed up and dangerous, but I learned some stuff I should’ve already known and met some people I hope I always will.

                So, if I’m doing this, I’m at least gonna entertain myself. And if this- big dumb thing- is accessing my memories, then it’ll help me remember all the details if I get in the zone.

                …

                It was a dark and stormy night—

                No, no, no, okay, I’m joking. Jeez, relax! Let me just take this from the beginning.

                And I think this begins for me…

 

                When I fail the fifth grade.

                Speaking of limits. Yeah, so I’m eleven years old and apparently elementary school just got too complex for my tiny brain, so I fail.

                And am officially enrolled in summer school.

                I fight this as hard as I can. Given the choice between spending two extra weeks in school during my longest period of free time in a year and repeating a grade altogether, the former sounds a lot better to me at the time.

                It helps that I’m not really… attached to anyone in my grade going forward.

                But try as I might, I never actually had a choice, so…

                There I am. Right now.

                At the edge of a crowd of students, I slink up next to a lost-looking tall guy with stupid hair and one arm in a fat cast. Not a lot of names on it. Mine’s there, though. Really big.

                Now, you may be thinking- ew, gross, why would this kid willingly talk to an adult that wasn’t his mom? Well, hold your horses. This adult is my big brother Angus, so this time it’s okay.

                I lean against the wall beside him, arms folded tight, and when I finally manage to talk through my fiery cloud of rage, boy is it a doozy:

                “This place is for babies,” I grumble.

                                [o]

                “Well, then it’s perfect for you,” Angus replies, boredly looking out over the crowd of kids before us.

                We’re standing in the hall outside the elementary school cafeteria as the aforementioned meager crowd- the whole summer school class- waits to go in. They seem about as enthusiastic as me.

                “Have you seen Xander?”

                “No. And I hope I don’t.” I glare up at Ang. “What’re you doing here, Angus?”

                He shrugs. “Well, I was gonna get some work done today, but…” As he raises his voice, he produces a brown paper bag from behind him and smiles. “Then I realized my baby brother forgot to bring his baby lunch to school.”

                I gape, stunned. As if it couldn’t get any worse!

                “A-are you serious? Did you come here just to embarrass me? Like I’m not going through enough!”

                Angus silently flips the bag around in his non-be-casted hand, revealing on the other side… a heart with my initials in the middle of it. As if it couldn’t get any even worse!

                My eyes widen in horror. “Angus, why…?”

                Angus’ small, unchanging grin radiates malice. “You broke my arm.”

                I snatch the bag out of his hand. “That was an ACCIDENT!”

                I stop. It’s to check if anyone looks this way, but as I realize nobody is… maybe there’s still time to bust me outta here.

                “Ang, just take me home!” I whine, clinging to his good arm. “Look, I’ve sat through one class and it’s already the worst! Everyone here stinks!”

                “Mmmno. There was a nonrefundable fee to put you through this.”

                “You paid to torture me.”

                “No. Mom did. And you know she’d be mad if you didn’t go.”

                I roll my eyes and turn away. Mom would be mad. Whatever.

                “… C’mon, D’artagnan,” Angus sighs. “It’s summer school. Can’t be that bad.”

                “No, I mean it. We’re talkin’ bottom of the barrel here.” I squint down the hall, picking out a few classmates as they loiter outside the cafeteria. … Oh boy. I remember this. This’ll be stupid.

                Duke Whassisname, a short kid who’s always wearing a baseball cap, stands beside Addicus Ringer and Clementine Ellotts. They were all in first period with me- math with the legendary Miss Friede, more on her later- and I had the privilege of watching several awkward interactions from the back of class. Putting it delicately, Duke here hasn’t gotten the memo that this is a duo, not a trio.

                “Here, classic example,” I sneer. Unenthusiastic, Angus glances over. “He’s always hanging around Addy and Clementine like it’s the only socialization he’s had in months, but they clearly want nothing to do with him.”

                “Dart.” Angus looks back at me, frowning. “Don’t do this, bud. Everyone here’s in the same position as you.”

                “But it’s so sad!” I smirk bitterly as Addy tries distancing themself from Duke, who keeps not getting the hint. “The man’s obviously friendless, so why didn’t he just get held back instead of wasting his summer in here? Seriously! What’s the point of being in summer school if you don’t have any actual friends to keep up with?”

                Angus falls silent for a bit. My arms are folded too tight.

                “Dart…” he finally murmurs. His tone sets off alarm bells. It sounds like pity. “Listen. About Arc and Ella. They’ll—”

                It’s pity.

                “No!” I snap, whirling on him. He’s not doing this right now. “No-no-no, hey. We’re not talking about them. I don’t care about them, remember?”

                Too late. His brow is furrowed in pain. But that’s his own fault.

                “… Right,” he says.

                I scoff. So stupid.

                The bell rings, signaling everyone to head in to lunch. Automatically, I follow the thin crowd.

                “By the way,” Angus calls after me. “Xander asked me to do some stuff for his… club today, but I should be able to pick you up anyway.”

                I raise a brow at him. “You still running errands for that freakshow?”

                “Hey! Xander’s not a freakshow. He’s…” He scratches under his cast, studying the floor. “H-he’s cool.”

                Okay I’m trying to be mad but I can’t help but smirk as I push the door open. “I was talking about the club. But I’ll tell Xander you’re in love with him or whatever if I see ‘im.”

                Angus flinches, blushing. “Dart. Don’t be a turd.”

                Just before disappearing into the cafeteria, I shake my heart-adorned baggie at him. “I’ll consider it over lunch.”

 

                I plop myself down at an empty table near my first period classmates.

                Addy and Clementine are chatting away, and for indiscernible reason, Duke is sitting with Bolen Flake. Who always has like… yak-killer hornets in his bonnet for another indiscernible reason despite the fact that his family’s rich or something. But hey, you do you, Dukey.

                “This stinks,” Addy says, pushing up their glasses. Addy’s alright, but I think they think they’re too cool for me. Which is fine, it’s not like I wanted to be friends anyway but it’s the principle of it.

                “Can’t even work on the radios. It’s my last chance before middle school…”

                “At least Miss Friede is nice,” Clementine mumbles into her lunch box.

                Addy snorts. “Yeah, she’ll snap.”

                Cracking himself up, Duke sniggers, “You wanna do radio club stuff, Addy? It’s called summer school, not summer employment.”

                “Shut up, Duke,” Addy fires back.

                Bolen punches his shoulder. “Seriously. Not even funny, and it made no sense.”

                Addy, though, gently nudges Clementine’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, Tine? You usually love making fun of Duke.”

                Clementine blinks, kinda coming out of a stupor. “S-sorry. I’m just worried about them…”

                Man, what a chatterbox!

                “Cheer up, Clementine. I’m sure they’ll show up soon.”

                At this point I’m not sure what all that’s about yet. But I also don’t even care, anyway. Not my business. I’m dealing with being Dart right now.

                Bolen glares down at the nasty food on his tray. Joke’s on him. I brought my own lunch. It definitely doesn’t have an embarrassing heart on it. “Hey, if you wanted summer employment, you should’ve asked my dad if you could be a parade-organizing intern. Two weeks ago.”

                “Bolen!” Addy gasps, shocked. “Jeez…!”

                “What?” He snaps back. “He’s my dad, I’m allowed to say it!”

                “Yeah, but…!”

                “Excuse me.”

                Wait, I didn’t eavesdrop that one. That one was for me. I straighten up and turn to see a woman beside me, wearing a crooked smile. Her frizzy hair falling out of the beehive-type ‘do she’s got, messing with her jewelry. Bags under her eyes. Miss Friede.

                “Hi, Dart.”

                I swallow a groan. Teachers are never just here to say hi. There’s always something wrong. “Sup?”

                “Well, I’m just checking in because… you didn’t finish your math work.” She pauses, clasping her hands together. “You barely started, actually.”

                I was hoping Friede wouldn’t notice I only filled in two answers before hitting a wall. Math doesn’t agree with me.

                “Uh, y-yeah.” I look at anything besides her. “That was…”

                In the middle of my search, I wish I’d just looked down, because my gaze lands on the other kids’ table and I just know they’re listening. Addy’s head is bowed as they scribble probably-nonsense in their notebook, and Bolen hides a snort in his fist. The jackwad. My eyes go wide.

                “You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to see what you… needed assistance with.”

                “Uh, n-no. I mean, nothing,” I stammer. “I just didn’t get to finish, that’s all. It’s not like it’s hard.”

                “Dart, it’s alright. We’ve all got limits.” Suddenly seeming very rehearsed and very fakity-fake, she blesses me with a big corny grin. She also doesn’t realize I’m not the only one hearing the awful things she’s saying to me.

                “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t push them! That’s why I’m here! To help you learn!”

                If I pressed a little harder my nails would be digging grooves in the table. She thinks I’m so goddamn dumb. The few-second pause after she’s done is excruciating because I’m terrified she’s gonna continue proving that.

                So when she doesn’t, I hop on my chance to fire back. I’m not just gonna sit here looking like a moron. Well, I am, but I mean a voluble moron.

                “But Miss Friede, we’re not here to learn.” I fold my arms. “We’re here as punishment for not passing our classes.”

                Her shoulders slump. The rehearsed teacher-smile drops off her face.

                “Pff, forget dumb,” I laugh. “We all just got too lazy and too unmotivated during the school year, and you can’t fix that stuff with tutoring.”

                In the corner of my eye, Addy rolls their eyes and Clementine looks disgraced, but Bolen seems unaffected, which is a real shame because I specifically wanted to hurt his feelings.

                (Look, trust me, he’s the worst.)

                “Dart,” Friede sighs shakily. Holding back the same knot she has been all day. In retrospect, I feel kind of bad about this. But how is current me supposed to know what she’s been going through?! I’m Dart!

                “I don’t think that’s…”

                “It’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but it’s useless! Don’t help me. Just let me do the dumb summer school thing, okay?” Friede looks exhausted. I know she wants me to stop talking, and I genuinely wish I could but I’m kinda… bad. At that.

                “I already learned and became comfortable with my ‘limits,’ including how much I can push them. And a few days over the summer aren’t…”

                But right on cue, as I keep not stopping talking, the cafeteria door opens and someone walks in. My gaze flickers to a student pausing just inside.

                It’s a girl with a long skirt, short purple hair, and…

                A floating stack of books.

                                [o]

                “… a-aren’t about to…”

                I can’t unstare. Be not confused. It’s not like this is love at first sight or anything (oh god why did I clarify that (oh god it’s still typing everything I think)) but… well, A, she’s clearly flipping psychic! Look, she’s telekinesis-ing! She’s levitating her books right now! And B…

                When she looks this way it’s like I abruptly become aware of the crap spilling out of my mouth. It feels different. Like even though she can’t hear me and Friede and the others can, it’s only now I feel a spotlight on me. Like, on my mind. This doesn’t make sense to me yet. It also just might not make sense.

                “… to change that.”

                               [o]

                And I feel like I’m being a ginormously massive buffoon.

                She walks this way, and Miss Friede smiles when she sees her.

                “Oh! There you are!”

                “Hello, Miss Friede.” She stops before Friede and me. “Prithee, I beg thy pardon for my absence this morn.”

                And… she talks…

                Like that.

                “I wished not to be late-coming, yet found myself overwrought by certain happenings that—”

                “N-no, it’s fine,” Friede cuts her off with a raised hand. Also full disclosure I’m pretty sure Friede says the girl’s name here but I don’t hear it as I’m preoccupied with the telekinesis and the Shakespeare.

                “Your, uh… mother called. … A-are you feeling okay?”

                “Ay!” She quickly responds. And just as quick, “Elsewise, dost thou perpend yon vision of mine?”

                Vision? I wonder if I shouldn’t be listening to this. I glance at the others. They’re all listening, but what else is new. I try to look busy picking the fuzz from my very stupid hat, but I can’t help glancing up. They’re right here.

                Friede blankly blinks down at her, but she goes on excitedly. But quietly. She has a really soft voice.

                “For I inherit another! This past night! Alas, I was unable to reach… her, in particular, but—!”

                “Uh, thank you!” Friede interrupts, hastier this time. The girl (yeah I know we both know who it is but current me doesn’t yet. Getting in the zone.) stops, surprised, and Friede glances at the others. “I definitely want to hear more, b-but sweetie, maybe this isn’t the best place…”

                Following Friede’s gaze, she seems to realize there are other people here for the first time. Maybe it’d be more polite if I threw down a smoke bomb and vanished.

                “Ah,” she says though, tone unchanged. Friede pats her head. “Perhaps later then.”

                “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get your lunch, and the work you missed,” Friede says, smiling at her. Wow, she definitely likes this girl more than any of us other ankle-biters.

                And so, as Friede walks off, she sits down. … Right beside me. Her books float down to the table and rest there. I try not to make eye contact as she looks over at me for a bizarre amount of time.

                This becomes easier when Bolen starts whispering.

                “Great, it’s the psychic girl…”

                I perk up. Did he really just say that out loud? Who’ s this idiot even talking to?

                “… had to see her every day during the school year…” I pick up. He’s being so quiet. It doesn’t help that he’s turned away, rummaging in his backpack. “… and I have to see her during summer school…”

                Why does hearing this… make me feel sick?

                I look back to the girl. Her expression- a blank, slight smile- hasn’t changed since she walked in. She stares down at the table, silent as she opens a folder and flips through it. She’s just taking it as this poop canoe talks smack within earshot and that makes me angrier.

                “… so freakish.”

                I obviously have no personal stake in this, but I’m waiting for any excuse to react. So when I see the slightest change in her expression- she just visibly swallows after his comment- I snap.

                “Hey, Bolen, she’s also so sitting five feet from you, so why don’t you chill out!”

                He whips his head around in shock. Like he can’t believe someone might have a problem with what he was saying.

                “… What.”

                With all my power, I resist rolling my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with being psychic, you stupid fart. I think maybe you protest too much.”

                They’re all staring at me. Unblinking. Even the psychic girl, and I can still feel that spotlight on me.

                I don’t understand why they’re staring at me, since I’m not the one mumbling to myself about how bigoted I am, but they all look… bewildered. Save Bolen. He seems to be seething with anger.

                For several long seconds, nobody has anything to say back. So I just snort, grab my lunch, and wander off to another table. Too many brains over here.

 

                At another empty table, farther away, I haphazardly shake out the contents of my baggéd lunch. And I smile. Not only is there no meat or actual human waste inside, but my idiot brother Angus somehow managed to find one of those chocolate egg things that got banned in Nowata because kids were choking on them!

                I have no clue where Ang gets all the stuff he does. I’ve kinda learned to stop questioning it.

                “Aw, sick, Ang…!” I whisper.

                I can’t help but snort in amusement as I remember threatening him with exposing his definitely-secret crush over this lunch. Luckily, nobody is around to witness me doing so!

                “Geheheh…”

                “Hello.”

                “He-YAGH!”

                I practically jump out of my skin and fall off my stool. But like, in a really cool way.

                After collecting myself and getting all the hat out of my face, I’m rewarded with the sight of the telekinesis-vision-talking-to-Friede-sitting-down-beside-me girl from before. Confusingly, she’s sitting down beside me again, looking calmly down on me like she didn’t just shoot adrenaline straight into my heart.

                “UH. H-HEY,” I wheeze, climbing back onto my seat. She sets her backpack down beside her lunch tray.

                “Hello.” You already said that. “May I sit here?”

                “You already did…”

                “Yes.” She takes out her folder again. I notice what looks like a rough map of Shakestone on the cover. “Hark, Miss Friede hath given me my work. Dost thou makest quick work of mathematics? Mayhaps if not, we couldst work as one.”

                It is so weird to hear this much Shakespeare in a Nowatan accent. My head fills with a thousand questions, none of which I plan on ever asking.

                “Well, t’be honest with you,” I say instead. “I usually like to spend my lunch periods fooling around and intentionally ignoring any and all work this school forces on me.”

                “Understood,” she simply says, immediately re-backpacking her folder. That was awesome! Usually my friends shame me for admitting that!

                … ‘Friends.’

                I clear my throat. “But hey, thanks for the offer, uhhh…”

                She stares at me blankly. Okay, that’s usually where people insert their name, but whatever, I can dig it.

                “Look, I didn’t catch your name before because I wasn’t paying attention.”

                “Rose,” she briskly responds, sticking out her hand. “Rose Valdis.”

                “Uh…” Sure, I’ll shake Rose Valdis’ hand. Why not? I reach out and do so. “Yeah, Dart. … Talwar.”

                “Yes.”

                Yeah.

                … She ain’t lettin’ go.

                Gingerly, I slide my hand out of her grip. It doesn’t take much doing, so that’s something at least.

                My fist taps the table on its own. My eyes sweep the cafeteria.

                Not gonna lie, I don’t know why Rose is sitting beside me. So I just assume it’s the same reason I’m letting her.

                “Nobody else to hang out with, eh?”

                “Hm?” She blinks. I think it’s the first time she’s done so. “Ah, nay. Not particularly.”

                … That was kinda a blasé response. So I have no clue how to read this person so far. I rest my chin in my hand and as I keep watching the cafeteria, something catches my eye.

                Some old, white-haired lady stands with Clementine, hunched over and talking in a hushed tone, (not that I’d be able to hear from here, you can just kinda tell when someone’s- anyway) trying to be discreet.

                Something she says makes Clementine’s eyes widen and her shoulders drop. Shakily, she stands up, gets her stuff together and follows the lady out of the cafeteria. They look somber, and so does Addy, now sitting cluelessly alone. I raise a brow.

                Weird.

                … I should eat at some point.

 

                I’m sitting at the back of class again, perched on top of my desk. I like it back here.

                That Rose girl is sitting beside me again. I still don’t know why she’s doing this and it’s a little weird. Maye she also likes it back here. But I guess I don’t… mind? Which is strange, because I mind a lot of things. Outwardly. Loudly.

                Our social studies teacher still hasn’t shown up. I wish they’d get here so I could shirk my classwork already.

                Duke turns around to face Addy, Rose and I. “Hey, don’t you guys think it’s convenient that you, Bolen and me all failed the same two subjects?”

                “No,” I snap defensively. “Shut up. Don’t talk about it. It’s perfectly plausible.”

                Rose says nothing, and neither does Addy, who looks too grumpy to speak without Clementine. Where did Clementine even go, I wonder? I know you probably want more than I’ve given you about her, but I just don’t got it.

                “… So, who are you?” Duke asks a police officer with big square glasses and a windbreaker, standing near the windows the whole time.

                And damn it, damn it, damn it. I was trying so hard not to remember this part so I wouldn’t have to talk about him but I slipped up and remembered it so now I have to. I have to talk about him. Damn it.

                The officer perks up.

                “Don’t talk to him Duke it’s not—”

                “Officer Morales!” He stands up straight. “They needed some time to find a substitute teacher on such short notice. I’m just here to make sure you kids don’t set the place on fire.”

                He laughs, then stops. Scrambling, he adds, “Uh, but don’t actually do that! That’s extremely dangerous!”

                Yayyy. Morales has entered the story. As the small class breaks up into murmurs of excitement about having a substitute (which I think is just Pavlovian, this is summer school after all) he stops to face-palm at himself, and Rose smiles at him.

                “Hello, Officer Morales.”

                He peeks out from behind his hand and smiles back. “Hi, Rose.”

                Wait, she knows Morales too? Then why is she being nice to him???

                “And hey, Dart!” He says. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

                “Don’t talk to me, man. Do not talk to me.”

                “Okay!”

                Suddenly, in a burst of loose papers and falling books, a man weirdly young for a teacher enters the room. Bits awkwardly sticking out from his slicked-back hair, his giant glasses crooked on his face, and he holds what papers and books he actually managed to close to his sweater vest. And hey! I know this man too!

                This is the Xander Schmittlot! My brother’s best friend (???) and… kind of boss? Well, he’s the leader of that weird club Angus does all those weird errands he won’t explain for, at least. The Psychology Enthusiast’s something.

                I’ve known him basically my whole life, but never very well. He’s always been pretty friendly with me, but like… I’m not about to befriend an adult, I’m not that desperate.

                “Whoa!” I exclaim. “It’s Xander!”

                He blinks, surprised when he sees me, then nervously laughs, pushing up his glasses. “Um. I-it’s Mr. Schmittlot here, Dart.”

                I chuckle. “No, it’s not.”

                “Sorry, everyone,” he ignores me, out of breath, as he picks up the mess from the floor and walks to the teacher’s desk. “There was a lot to prepare for class. Now, as you probably know, I’m a science teacher, not a social studies teacher,” and he laughs like he told a joke for some reason, “But I’m here just today to sub in for… u-um, Mx. Ellotts.”

                Addy’s head springs up off their desk. “Mx. Ellotts? That’s Clementine’s parent…!”

                “Y-yes, unfortunately, uh,” Xander clears his throat, glances at me, and turns to write his name on the chalkboard. If he thinks that’ll make me refer to him by his teacher name he’s sorely mistaken.

                “Clementine will… also not be returning today. There’s been an, uhhh… e… emergency…?”

                Well, that’d explain the cafeteria thing.

                “Oh god, what happened?” Addy exclaims. In the corner of my eye, Officer Morales pinches the bridge of his nose and Rose watches Xander intently.

                Off the shower of murmurs his word choice brings out of the eight-person class, Xander waves his hands, correcting himself, “W-w-well, I mean, not an emergency! J-just something to… uh, d-do! I promise, everything will be fine!”

                “Oh brother…” Morales whispers. He raises his voice, getting the class’s attention. I try so hard to ignore him. “Okay, listen! I’m sure you’ve all been hearing scary news about something going on lately. So before any rumors start spreading, yes, Mx. Ellotts is a member of a club known as the Psychology Enthusiast’s Alliance—”

                Ah, that’s the one.

                “It’s not a club,” Xander mumbles.

                “—And yes, they have been confirmed… well, missing. The Shakestone—”

                Understandably higher-energy chatter fills the room, cutting him off.

                “Oh, no… poor Tine…!”

                “Wait, what?” Comes flying out of my mouth. The Psychology Enthusiast’s Alliance. That’s Xander’s club. So in other words… Ang’s.

                Morales tries to regain control. “—police service has everything under control, though, and we’ll find everyone soon! Is what I was gonna say.”

                “Hang on!” I interrupt. “They’re going missing?”

                “‘Missing’ is such a… strong word…!” Xander meekly croaks. He’s real nervous up there, and as well he should be. How’d I not know about this? Xander was over at my house a week ago to spend time with Ang, and they both just seemed… normal.

                Angus has been helping out with Xander’s dumb psychology club for over a year. And I can’t imagine any ‘work’ you could do for a tiny small-town non-profit discussion group about the human mind not being blander than saltines and dryer than the Atacama. I laugh imagining Angus having to do it all the time.

                So that he didn’t tell me about the one of-note thing that could ever happen in regards to it… that the members of this club are going missing? It makes a shockingly little amount of sense.

                And just as I get buried in thought, I feel myself being… observed again. Just like during lunch. Rose is looking at me.

                “Okay!” Xander laughs, clapping his hands together. “W-we should really get started! We don’t have a lot of extra time, so…”

                He looks pointedly at Morales, still loitering cluelessly by the radiator. Morales blinks back.

                Xander clears his throat. “I’m sure you have some important things to be doing, right, Officer?”

                Oh my god! It’s happening! Xander is banishing Morales! Morales pauses, then rolls his eyes- incredibly, the most attitude I’ve ever seen from him. Without another word, he heads out of the classroom. But on his way out, he picks a pencil out of the cup on the teacher’s desk and pockets it. No clue why.

                But the class is moving on now, and I don’t want this conversation to end because I, specifically, am still invested. Hold on! This is not normal!

                “Hey, Xander,” I blurt out.

                He perks up.

                I open my mouth, but stop. What do I do? Interrogate the man about his missing club buddies in the middle of my summer school class? Ask him why Angus didn’t tell me? Maybe that’s a weird thing to do to someone going through this, anyway. Especially since… well, he might be Ang’s best friend, but he’s not mine.

                I cross my arms, studying the wall. “… My brother says hi.”

                Xander’s face lights up like Holiday Day. Oh, good grief. “Oh, r-really? Hi!”

                I squint wearily. “He’s not here, man.”

                He blushes, awkwardly rubbing his arm. “W-well, I know, b-but…”

                Stunning everyone, he cuts himself off by whipping out his huge stack of social studies worksheets. “So who’s ready for some fun social studies stuff?!”

 

                Everyone… is finishing before me.

                It’s starting to tick me off.

                Social studies. Not my strong suit. Slightly stronger of a suit than math, but I got F’s in both so that means nothing. And every time someone stands up to turn in their worksheet before I do, another vein pops out on my head.

                I grind my teeth. There’s something I’m missing, right? There’s a page in this book that has the answers that I’m just not seeing, right?

                It’d help if my brain could pay attention long enough to actually finish reading a sentence. But sometimes it doesn’t like doing that, y’know? I tap my pencil against my desk.

                Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

                I read the same question again. What other towns/settlements did these famous trials take place in?

                Someone starts whispering.

                “Uhhh… let me think…”

                Tap, tap… tap…

                “Andover? Or was it Handover? Crap, gotta check again.”

                Sounds like Duke. I raise a brow at Schmittlot. I thought we weren’t allowed to talk, but I guess he doesn’t hear ‘im. I sputter out a sigh, hunching over my work. It’s cool, I got this. The closer I get to the book, the easier it is to absorb the information, right?

                “Gosh, this is confusing.” That’s someone else’s voice. “I can see how I failed this.”

                I lean in closer. Absorb… information…

                Bolen Flake finishes and walks to the front to hand in his sheet.

                So that leaves me, Duke, and… nope. Duke just stood up too. That leaves me and one other dumb kid. Why can’t I work? Why am I so frustrated?

                Bolen sits back down and just guess who decides to start whispering while everyone else is busy working, too?

                “I’m gonna coast right through this,” he snorts. “It’ll be hard to punish me when we’re doing work for second graders.”

                “Jeez, congrats,” I mutter, pencil still tapping away. “Y’want a medal, turdbrain?”

                Rose perks up.

                And then, just like that, everyone else in here feels encouraged to whisper to themselves/each other, too. Xander doesn’t care, and I feel like I’m going nuts just for being affected by it.

                “… hate this,” I pick out among the voices. Addy. “This is dumb. I should be with Tine…”

“Man, if Mom and Dad actually cared, I wouldn’t be here.”

                “… wasting half our class time because some teacher went missing…” Bolen.

                I drop my pencil and rub my face. God. Shut up. Everyone. I couldn’t care less about your individual problems, so it’d be great if you could adjust to my needs, specifically!

                See, I’ve had this before. The being overwhelmed by every little sound or action, the not being able to read despite scanning the words in front of me repeatedly, the stupidly high anger at those things. Those are all familiar feelings, but… this is different.

“Hm. His struggle is clear.”

                “… now I’m stuck with the stupid mind-readers…”

                Oh my god why can’t I read and what is this paranoid jerk’s deal with Rose?! I glance at her, but she’s silent, dutifully organizing her notes. S-so, exactly! She’s not even listening to your mouth!

                Nobody is reading your mind, bozo!

“Oh no. Is he…?”

                “Shouldn’t even be allowed in here while we work. That’s cheating.”

                “Okay!” Xander says. “I-it seems like everyone’s about done…?”

                “Just shut up…”

                And listen, I get angry. And it can get really dumb. But even in this moment, I don’t understand why I’m as angry as I am. It’s like my brain is burning. It needs to vent.

                “Uh, wh-what was that, Dart?”

                “Not like the idiot’s gonna pass, anyway.”

                I decide to let it.

                I slam my hands against my desk and stand up.

                “Bolen, d’you want me to kick your ass?!”

                The room falls dead silent. Everyone looks at me. Everyone. Bolen, specifically, stares wide-eyed back at me like I’m a nutcase. “… What?”

                My head feels like it’s on fire.

                “Do you?”

                … And then it doesn’t.

                At the front of the room, Xander yelps and leaps up from his desk. I look up.

                At first, I don’t even know what I’m seeing, it’s so out of place. The bin, and all the worksheets inside, covered in a bright light. A dancing, violent one. One could even say…!

                                [o]

                “Fire!”

                Fire… oh, crap, FIRE!

                “Wh-whoa, whoa, whoa!” Xander shouts, snatching his overcoat from the hook and dashing back to the flame as the class hollers and gasps in front of me. I stand and watch, dumbfounded.

                He throws his coat over the fire and rapidly pats it, smothering it.

                The bell rings. The panic dies down to a murmur as Xander frantically puts out the rest of the flames. Once it seems like it’s all out, he slouches over the desk and charred coat, panting. Nobody’s sure how to react and they turn to each other.

                “H-how’d that even happen?”

                “Mr. Schmittlot, you alright?”

                “I love this school.”

                “Yeah, I-I’m fine.”

                “Are we being haunted?”

                “So… we can go, right?”

                Rose, however, has turned to me. Yes, I can tell. No, she isn’t subtle.

                And neither is Flake, standing up, fists balled up at his sides, glaring at me like I’m the serial killer who ate his lunch out of the office fridge. And I’m not old enough to work and probably not old enough to murder, so I don’t even know what that means.

                I glare right back. “W-well?”

                “Stay away from me, spoonbender,” he spits. Then he slings his backpack over his shoulder and storms out of the room.

                “Bolen Flake!” Schmittlot exclaims, furious, but he’s already gone. He’s right to be pissed, though. Jeez. Not a lot you can say about someone who drops the SB word in class one thousand percent unprompted.

                The smoldering coat catches my eye again, and then I can’t stop staring at it. How did that happen…? Is our school so cruddy it breaks the rules of thermodynamics to prove it? As I stand there, watching the smoke, my thoughts loop back around to what Bolen just said, and, admittedly delayed, it hits me.

                Yeah, there’s just one other teeensy little problem with that.

                “… He knows I’m not a psychic, right?”

Notes:

hello, and welcome to the b team! or, as i like to call it, "bootleg psychonauts."

so listen. this fic is something i spent a considerable amount of effort writing for basically just me and me alone, i realize "psychonauts fic starring all OCs" isn't a very wide demographic, but i couldn't imagine writing this many words of a fanfiction and not publishing it, so HERE!

this story ain't perfect. there are things in here i wish i'd done better. i know, weird thing to admit right out the gate. but the stories i write have always kinda taught me lessons, and the one this taught me is actually germane. it's that you don't open because the show is perfect. you open because you're out of time. ironically, it took me a long time to learn that, but as you can see, i finally have. it's go time.

so, without further ado, i hope you enjoy the rest of this wackadoo story about the adventures of psychonauts concept art for what it is! it's got plucky kids and backsass and the power of love and a giant chicken!

see you in chapter two!

chapter one art: imgur.com/a/9J6iXrg

Chapter 2: The F Word

FILE: TALWAR, D. MEMORY ACCOUNT 0002

 

                Phew! Told you I could get into the zone!

                Alright. Where was I?

                Oh, right! First stupid day of summer school is done!

                Everyone’s work caught on fire! Not my fault! Who cares!

                I only finished half of mine anyway! My fault! Who cares!

                I hop down the stairwell several at a time and push through the doors to the main hallway.

                I’m about to run down to the exit as fast as possible, but my heels practically grind into the floor when I pass by Officer Morales, standing outside the basement stairwell. Right. Running in the halls- still illegal. I nonchalantly continue, straightening my hat.

                He’s still watching me, isn’t he.

                “Hey, Dart!” Crap. “Can I speak with you?”

                I groan. Only reason he could be stopping me is because I’m in trouble.

                “What?” I glare over my shoulder as he approaches. “Why’re you still skulking around here?”

                Somehow still as unaffected by my comments as always, he gestures to the locked basement doors. “Oh, I was asked to guard the basement stairwell all day. Nobody will tell me why, but…” He chuckles jovially. “Well, that’s my job!”

                Wow I am not surprised that he’s a ‘question nothing’ kind of cop.

                “That’s… pretty weird.”

                “Yup! But that’s not it. About the fire in the classroom…”

                My stomach twists immediately, but… it’s not like it was that big a deal. I guess Schmittlot must’ve told him about that…?

                … Before I got down the stairs?

                “Yeah?”

                “Well, I’m sorry it happened! It must’ve been scary. Are you feeling okay, buddy?”

                Oh.

                “Uh. Yeah, whatever.” Cool, maybe I’m not in trouble after all. “That it?”

                “Nope!”

                Welp.

                “It’s… well, I don’t wanna get on your case, I think you’re great!” LEAVE ME ALONE. “But you didn’t finish your classwork. Oh, and you tried to pick a fight with another student during class.”

                “Hey, c’mon!” I protest. “You didn’t hear what he said!”

                Morales blinks, confused. “He… didn’t say anything.”

                I furrow my brow. That’s categorically wrong, as far as I know, but it’s his conviction. There’s no way Xander would’ve told him that much already, even over their secret school staff walkie-talkies that I know they all have. “How would you know?”

                He straightens up, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. (???)

                “Listen, buddy. I know it’s tough. You know, you’re going through changes right now… having problems in class and with other students…”

                Oh HELL no.

                “But there’s no shame in needing help!” He straightens his tie, laughing. “When I was your age, I—!”

                “Hey, Morales!” I butt in, hands up to stop him. “Lemme stop you right there!”

                “Okay?”

                “And leave!”

                I spin on my heel and head directly for the exit.

                “Dart, wait!”

                “You are not my dad, man. Go hand out parking tickets or something.”

                Morales sighs. His heavy footsteps head in the opposite direction, and he wearily whispers, the first vaguely non-positive thing I think I’ve heard from him:

                “It’s gonna be a long couple days…”

                “Tell me about it, buddy,” I call over my shoulder.

                He stops dead in his tracks.

                I don’t.

 

                I bound down the front stairs and across the schoolyard.

                It’s pretty warm out- for a mountain town, anyway. I roll up my sleeves and jump down the steps at the end of the schoolyard, down onto the sidewalk to wait for my ride from…

                Angus.

                The thought of the disappearances comes flying back.

                Look, stuff happens. The world’s big and scary. All I wanna know- what I’m desperate to know- is why he never told me. He had to know! So why does he come home acting like nothing’s up?

                Maybe he was scared I’d tell Mom- next time I got the chance, anyway- and she’d make him stop? But that’d only be if he actually liked that weird job, and there’s no way that’s the case. It’s not exactly Ang’s style.

                He only likes Xander.

                And yeah I get everyone else already knew about this but that’s ‘cause I don’t pay attention to current events so good.

                “D’artagnan?”

                I jump, spinning around.

                Ah, Rose.

                “Prithee, may I have audience with thee?” She asks, walking down the steps toward me.

                I glance down the steep road. At least she asked. “Guess I’d be walking home otherwise, so yeah, sure!”

                “What is the nature of thy brother’s relationship with Mr. Schmittlot?”

                I almost blush. Which is dumb. The nature of their relationship? That’s none of my business! All I know is it’s been getting kinda weird lately! “Um. They’re friends? But I guess Xander’s also kinda his boss because he does stuff for that psychology club of his.” I rub my neck. “It’s weird. I mean, it’s a discussion group, right? Y’don’t exactly need a PA to run one of those.”

                “Yes…” She trails off in a single word, wow. She gazes into the distance, past the fenced-off cliff on the other side of the road. The cool cliff Shakestone Elementary undeservedly sits on overlooks the rest of our slanted mountain town, so they put up a big fence beyond the guardrail to prevent any accidents.

                But it’s covered in signs that say things like “THIS FENCE IS VERY BAD” and “DON’T LEAN ON THIS.” So dumb. The time spent putting up those signs could’ve been used to install a secondary, equally very bad fence.

                Rose says nothing else. I peer down the street again. Still no Ango. “… So, why d’you care, anyway?”

                She hums quietly. “These disappearances puzzle me. And this puzzlement consumes me. It giveth me no respite.”

                Huh. I wonder if… she knows someone who disappeared…?

                “I can think of not one reasonable reason for a captor to target the small, unassuming guild; if such a fiend beeth responsible for yon vanishings. There beeth no sense there. I believed the answer could lie with thy brother. And I mean to question Schmittlot, but…”

                She stops, fiddling with her skirt uncomfortably. Oh god oh god she’s saying so much words what. Captor? Question Schmittlot? I thought we were making small-talk! The heck is this girl, some kinda PI?!

                Whatever the case, no way am I smart enough to contribute to this line of discussion.

                “I-I dunno,” I awkwardly say. “It’s a small town. Maybe onnuvem cheesed someone off?”

                The silence that follows is harsh, and a few quick glances her way make me nervous. Wait, was that insensitive? I wish I knew how to be sensitive!

                “Which… wouldn’t justify kidnapping!” I clumsily add.

                “D’artagnan.” Rose steps in front of me. “I ask thine assistance.”

                “With… with what? Cracking the case…?”

                “With only deciphering the perplexing parts of it. I have not the resources nor experience to bring the missing home, nor the culprit justice if there be one.” She stares at her hands, tightly wringing them. I get it. She hates maintaining eye contact with people too.

                “But perhaps together… we couldst prove that a party with more resources than the police…” And she looks up, eyes narrowing- for the first time I’ve seen- fiercely. “… should be handling this case.”

                Holy crap.

                She is a PI.

                I’m stunned. Together? We? Why?! This is like one of my worst nightmares come to life! I’ve just been rushed into an emergency room and asked to operate on the president, and nobody will listen to me when I tell them I’m an eleven year old martial arts enthusiast and not a brain surgeon! Except it’s, y’know, real.

                “Wha… why me?” I squawk. An empty road behind me, and I feel cornered. “We don’t even know each other! I’m just here!”

                “Well, you’re a—!” She stops, biting her lip. I fold my arms. I want outta this G-D operating room, so there better be a good reason I’m in it.

                I’m a what?

                Her gaze flickers around the pavement like she’s trying to come up with a reason. Then she finally does:

                “I sense something in thee.”

                “Eh?”

                “An ever-turning, quick-witted mind.” She makes a tight fist, grinning. “A fiery obligation to press onward ‘till thou hast seen thy sought goal.”

                My first thought is, boy, for a psychic, you sure have the wrong reading on me. I almost laugh. Quick wit? An obligation to press onward? If those things were true, there’s no way I’d be in summer school right now.

                “Listen, Valdis. I know you’re psychic. So, I dunno, maybe there’s some sixth sense feelings you get that I don’t. But I think you have the wrong, uh, person.” I take great interest in the mountain behind the school.

                “That’s… nothing like me.”

                Rose opens her mouth, but it shuts again. She frowns.

                Ang’s coming. I can tell- the iconic sound of his car’s engine wanting to die is reaching us from the bottom of the hill. What do I say…? Rose is trying really hard to recruit me right now.

                “I get it and all. It’s weird, it doesn’t make sense, it stinks. But you gotta be thinking of someone else! I have enough to deal with, with this dumb summer school thing going on!”

                Angus pulls up in front of the school and honks his horn. He kinda waves, and I glance back at Rose. Her shoulders slump. She doesn’t look… sad, really, but she hasn’t really expressed much in general beyond blankly smiling, so it’s hard to tell.

                “And so do you, right?” I shrug, stepping back toward the car so Angus doesn’t honk at me again. It feels wrong to say, but… “I’m sure the cops’ll find ‘em soon.”

                “One would hope…” she murmurs.

                And just as I’m turning to head to the car:

                “D’artagnan, before thy departure.”

                I slump. “Yes?”

                “Thou art right.” Her brow furrows, the slightest hint of expression. “T’was my sixth sense to feel something. And it was thee. Thou shouldst consider thy mind with more care, friend. There is a change there.”

                Okay!

                How am I supposed to process that? What does that mean? Is she a fortune-telling PI?

                “I… th-thanks, Rose! That was really cryptic! Nobody’s ever given me a prophecy before!”

                … Is that offensive?

                “N-not that—I think psychics are, y’know, going around handing out prophecies to—” I’m shutting up I’m turning around I’m going to the car. “ALRIGHT, SEEYA.”

 

                Angus nods as I slam my door shut. “Hey, Darty. How was it?”

                “Mm.” I buckle my seatbelt and refuse to answer to ‘Darty’ as he pulls away and turns to drive back down the steep dead-end school road.

                “Yeah, figured. Who was that?”

                “Classmate?” I squint at his stupidity. Oh no, the stupidity is spreading. The doctors say he doesn’t have long to—“Who else would she be?”

                “Well, what’d she want?”

                I look over my shoulder toward the schoolyard. She’s still standing there, looking thoughtfully into space. I feel something weird in my chest and don’t know what it is.

                Basically everything she said set off my weird-meter, but right now, just one thing sticks out, looping in my head.

                “We couldst prove that a party with more resources than the police… should be handling this case.”

                … Bet you can guess what party that is, can’t ya? Because I sure can’t.

                “She… needed help with her homework.”

 

                I shut the front door behind me, and with a kiai, launch my bookbag into the couch as hard as possible.

                “Oi.”

                “Relax, there’s nothin’ important in there.”

                “Uh-huh.” Angus drops his keys by the phone. “Got homework?”

                I sigh. “Yes.”

                “Better get on that.”

                I walk to my backpack, flip through my overwhelmingly cluttered sea of folders and papers from the school year searching for today’s homework and yeah this sucks I don’t want to deal with this right now.

                I guess now’s a good time as any to ask Ang about the club.

                “Hey… bro?” I hesitantly begin. “I heard today that—”

                Ri-i-i-i-i-ing! Ri-i-i-i-i-ing! Ri-i-i-i—

                Angus picks up the phone. “Hello?”

                Sigh. I sling my bookbag on. “That you’re a fart and that you eat farts.”

                “Uh… I mean, I’m his older brother. But yeah. Guardian.”

                Crap. Angus is only one person’s older brother. Me. I peek over my shoulder. Angus listens silently for a while, casted hand on hip, squinting into space.

                Then he raises a brow at me. “Did he, now.”

                Double crap. I intensely study the living room curtains and try to act casual.

                “Right. … No way, that’s not like him at all. … Oh, really? Y-yeah, I understand. Totally.”

                I peek again.

                Angus is glaring directly into my soul.

                I decide to stop peeking.

                “Mm-hm. Yeah, I’ll talk to ‘im.” The annoyance in his tone gradually increases. “Definitely.”

                I stealthily inch toward the stairs, his fiery gaze on me the whole way.

                “Yeah, you too. Goodbye.”

                Angus hangs up. I put my foot on the bottom step.

                “Dart.”

                “Yo what up,” I respond, scratching under my hat and refusing to look at him.

                “So, it was ‘mm’, huh? Summer school was ‘mm’? Had a pretty ‘mm’ day at school, Dart?”

                “Are you okay?”

                “That was the school office. They said you tried to pick a fight today. Oh, and that you refused to finish your work in either of your classes!”

                Morales.

                “That pig’s a goddang rat…!” I whisper. I shake my head, whirling on Angus. “First off, everyone else’s work got burnt to a crisp in the bin, so I dunno why everyone’s on my case just because mine was on my desk. Secondly, I wasn’t trying to fight! I offered a fellow student an ass-kicking and they politely declined!”

                He’s not having it. “First off, if you wanna fight someone, don’t do it at school. You could break someone’s bones.”

                I chuckle nefariously.

                “It’s not funny.”

                “It’s a little funny.”

                “Okay, but that stuff won’t fly there. Not just the fighting- which you could get kicked out for- but shirking your work. You’ll be held back, Dart!”

                “I expressed neutrality toward this possibility.”

                “D’artagnan.” I think I liked it better when it was Rose Valdis using my full name. “We both know you’re smart. The words ‘gifted classes’ still ring a bell?”

                Yeah, they just looove bringing that one up, don’t they.

                “There’re just no excuses for this!” He shrugs, bewildered. “None!”

                I grind my teeth. How can he make me feel so dumb while calling me smart?

                “Ohh, why d’you even care, Angus? Last I checked, the kid’s grades don’t go on the whole family’s report card.”

                “Because! Th-this isn’t just about repeating the fifth grade.” He sighs, exhausted. “This is about both of us being the people Mom expects us to be while she’s gone.”

                I scrape at the clumpy finish on the railing. “Mom’ll be fine.”

                “Listen, she’s worried about you. She doesn’t want you to…” And he stops. And he swallows.

                I glare up at him. Sure, I’ll bite. I couldn’t feel more insulted than I already do! “… To what, Ang?”

                Angus looks down at the floor.

                “She doesn’t want you to be a failure, Dart.”

                … No.

                No, I could.

                It all piles up on me at once. Not passing the fifth friggin’ grade. Friede making me look stupid at lunch. Me finishing classwork slower than everyone else. Getting incapacitated-ly distracted by something as minor as whispering. Morales… continuing to attempt to relate to me? Turning Rose down because she had the wrong idea about me.

                Mom. Even Mom.

                All at once. That burning feeling comes back- the same one I felt in class earlier. Right before the fire. But I’m not thinking about that. Who cares about that? I’m not thinking about anything besides letting the words hastily stuffed together in my head come spilling out. As usual.

                Angus, wincing, opens his mouth to talk.

                “That’s kinda harsh,” I say first, smirking. “I could be worse.”

                “Hey, I…”

                “I mean, doesn’t Mom get that? In a decade, I could- oh, I dunno- still be living in her house even though I should’ve moved out years ago!”

                The burn is growing in my mind. Angus awkwardly rolls up his sleeve the best he can with a casted arm.

                “And I’ll have no friends to move in with anyway, because I never bothered to make any outside the weirdo who runs the big club full of weirdos who I don’t even like, but refuse to stop working for even when they all start dropping off the face of the planet! But no biggie, right?!”

                Angus’ eyes widen. “W-wait, how did you—?”

                “Because I’ll be too lazy to come up with anything else to do- a-and I’ll have the skillset of a gas station clerk anyway! Because that’s how it was always gonna be for me, even if you all keep telling me I just need to do better so I don’t turn out to be such a big ol’ FAILURE!”

                He’s sweating bullets. “D-Dart—”

                It burns. “Because I’m not gonna do any better than this, okay? I can’t!”

                I stop to breathe, leaving a gaping silence-hole in my wake. I glare down at the floor. The burning shrinks in my head and leaves it feeling ice cold.

                “I can’t. I don’t…” I shrug. “This is everything I’ve got.”

                It sounds like Angus is done too, so I turn and walk upstairs like nothing happened.

                “Dart, I’m…” Angus suddenly raises his voice, then flinches at his volume. I wait.

                His shoulders are slumped. He looks miserable, wiping the frankly out-of-place amount of sweat from his forehead. He swallows hard. “… I-I’m…”

                … Aaand I wait. It feels like a minute passes- definitely not, though- and he still says nothing. I roll my eyes. Yeah, okay.

                I head to my room. “Look, if Mom didn’t want me to be a failure, she shouldn’t’ve left me alone with one.”

 

                I shouldn’t have said that.

                That’s the thought that keeps distracting me over and over as I sit on my bedroom floor, trying to do this stupid homework, but it’s not fair. It’s not fair! Why does he get to hurt me on purpose, but when I hurt him on purpose, I have to feel bad about it?! He started it!

                We haven’t talked since earlier. I’ve spent all day in my room (which is pretty normal for me) drawing or playing games, occasionally leaving for toilet or food, and though I know he’s been around the house, he’s avoiding me. It’s quiet.

                It’s also getting late. I’ve spent about two hours on my homework and I’m just now wrapping it up. It was two sheets, by the way. One for each subject.

                “Wheee. Dart is such a smart kid,” I mutter. “The tabloids were wrong! He’s not a…!”

                … The F word.

                Mom thinks I’m a failure. Even Mom does.

                I know I shouldn’t feel bad about it, ‘cause it’s not like it’s not my fault. And I know it’s my fault I’m in summer school, too! I’m just… lazy. And forgetful. And unmotivated. I always have been. And the weird thing is, I’m not trying to be! I really wish I wasn’t! But…

                I dunno how to stop.

                I inhale sharply. “Jeez.”

                I put in some random number for the last question I couldn’t figure out, sign my name, and chuck my pencil aside. I rub my eyes on my sleeve. There. That’s more homework than I usually finish in a week.

                And after everything haphazardly goes in my bookbag, I sit holding the strap for a while. I don’t have the energy to throw it across the room like I—like I had right before arguing with Angus.

                This is so dumb. I’m just gonna go over and talk to him. As soon as I think it I force myself out the door and down the hallway before I can get too lazy to stand up.

                It doesn’t have to be about the argument. I’d rather it wasn’t. Because whatever, we’re even. I just don’t want that stupid insult hanging over my head anymore. ‘Specially because he started it and it’s his fault.

                … Yeah. His fault.

                But when I get to his open bedroom door, it’s empty inside. And the bathroom was wide open, so I figure he’s downstairs.

                I hop down the stairs and walk as casually as possible through the house. I don’t want him thinking I’m hunting him down; I don’t wanna make this a big friggin’ thing.

                And as I walk through the dining room and into the kitchen, I start to think it’s not gonna be a thing at all.

                Because I don’t think Ang’s home. It was almost like I could feel him here earlier (almost, right? Dullard.) but that feeling is gone now.

                I open the fridge. … ‘Cause maybe there’s a clue in there? Not my brightest moment. The only thing of note is a wooden six-pack of purple, sparkling soda called Bravo Cola that Angus had shoved in there a few days ago. (Yeah, calm down. I figure it out later, okay?)

                He’d stuck two sticky notes to it that read “DO NOT DRINK. YOU’LL REGRET IT.” and “SERIOUSLY.” and I didn’t care enough to drink it out of spite. Looks super old anyway.

                Only when I shut the fridge and turn around do I notice the cabinet blackboard. There’s a fresh note on it in Angus’ handwriting. And it just says this:

                               Hey, left the house. Think there’s something I need to do.

                               I should be able to pick you up tomorrow.

                A sigh seeps out of me. Cool. Guess I’m home alone.

 

                All night, apparently! Angus never comes back, so I get sick of waiting and lock up.

                I shoot my balled-up hat across the room into my chair and collapse onto my back on my bed.

                Sleep gets a hold of me quick once I settle in. And I… can’t really describe it right, but it’s a different falling asleep than anything I’ve experienced before. It’s like the further I get from consciousness…

                The more this… feeling rises in my head. It’s like the one I got when I argued with Ang, when I heard the whispering in class, but it doesn’t burn.

                And the reason I can’t describe it right is because it’s not like anything else, either. It’s not a thought, or an emotion or a memory of a smell or sight or sound. This…

                It’s like I have one extra sense.

 

                …

                This should start getting obvious to me now, huh?

 

                I wake up with Mom on my mind.

                My eyes open and I can immediately tell I’m not in my bed anymore, because for one, my bed isn’t usually in a tiny cold room made of stone!

                I spring up off my back, scrambling, in a panic. “Wha… what?!”

                We both know it’s a dream. But for a split second I don’t, because even though I’m sitting in darkness, I feel a startling amount of… clarity.

                But just as quickly as my mind asks me where the heck I am, it hits me like the most obvious thing ever. Of course it’s a dream.

                My body relaxes and I slowly stand up. Huh. My lucid dreams are few and far between, but I’ve still never jumped into one so quickly and so… vividly? Usually there’s a sense of lost time, but it’s like I fell asleep in bed and just sorta teleported… here.

                Here is weird.

                It really is a tiny room. More like a closet. The only light comes from underneath one of two doors in the wall, right across from each other. The other one is pitch black underneath. And air, so cold I can see my breath in the dark, seeps in from its cracks. But that’s not all.

                Sitting on a rickety table, clashing with the ancient stone walls carved with concentric circles, is a radio. It struggles to transmit anything through a field of static. I raise a brow before instinctively reaching for the handle of the door with light filtering in from under it. It just seems more pleasant.

                But after jiggling the handle and then throwing my shoulder against it, I’m pretty sure it ain’t budging. Up close, though, I can hear noise from the other side. I press my ear to the door, tuning out the static to try and make it out, but it’s just faint, faraway cacophony, like someone’s having a party somewhere else in this apparently huge stone place.

                I sigh and step back. … Then there’s Door #2.

                I inch toward it. It emits a foreboding feeling, but I can’t help but find it more interesting than my tiny radio closet. Somehow, I don’t feel curious about the cacophony or the light, but this…

                The doorknob is ice cold. Hoping for a dream freezer and not a dream underworld portal, I take a deep breath and pull it open.

                I’m struck with a gust of freezing air that slams the door against the wall and knocks me back a step. I gasp, throwing my arms around myself.

                I crack one eye open and peer through the doorway. There’s… well, pitch blackness, yeah, but barely visible in the dark, a long, straight path from the door, hanging in the abyss, stretches into the distance. At which point it stops at what looks like another door.

                The path’s barely wider than the doorway, and to make things worse, the strangely-textured surface- like the top of a classroom table?- is covered in patches of solid ice.

                Frowning into my cheek, I step through the doorway and start down the path. I know what you’re thinking. Why is Dart walking on the ice catwalk through the loneliness void? Well… it’s a dream, so shut up. I’m not that big a coward, jeez. Plus…

                Something about this place overwhelms me with intrigue.

                It’s a long, silent, careful walk most of the way- along the way I begin to barely make out rectangular shapes sticking out of the darkness- and in retrospect, I really had no reason to stop. When I reach the midpoint though, I do, taking a breath to look out over the foreboding, empty, featureless void.

                … Now what the fresh heck is that.

                Out there, far out of the path’s reach, there’s a ring of flickering light suspended in the dark. Fire. And it looks like a lot of it. It illuminates strange rectangular shapes in its circumference, but it’s so far I still can’t tell what they are.

                “What the…” I whisper.

                Shoulda kept my mouth shut.

                With the booming sound of a floodlight, I’m suddenly bathed in harsh, white light.

                I whirl away from the ring of fire to face it, and the light is so intense and blinding in this dark place that for a second, it’s all I see. I shield my eyes, squinting out from under my hand to try and make out what’s there.

                Because it ain’t just a floodlight.

                It’s a circular floodlight positioned directly behind the head of an enormous, human silhouette. A human girl- or at least from the hips up before her shape is lost in the darkness.

                That split-second theory is only confirmed when her eyes snap open an intense glow. Not so intense, though, that I don’t notice she’s looking straight down at me.

                And then she speaks.

                “HELLO!”

                                [o]

                “Holy mother of mercy,” I squeak.

                I move backward on instinct, but the giant silhouetted monster only takes it as encouragement to move forward, gliding inhumanly toward the path and slamming her giant hand down on it.

                When she does, an enormous shockwave of ice and wind flies outward from her hand. It takes me off my feet, sending me sliding gracelessly on my side farther down the path and coming far too close to the edge for comfort. Once I can, I scramble up onto my shaking legs.

                “HOW WEIRD…” The girls voice booms. It has an unnatural tone. “YOU SHOULDN’T BE WAY OUT HERE. THAT MUST BE A MISTAKE…”

                A nervous laugh explodes out of me. “Y-yeah! I-i-it must be! I—!”

                “AFTER ALL,” she cuts me off. I don’t even know if she can hear me.

                She grins- too wide- and her perfect teeth glow like her eyes. “NOBODY IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD REALLY WANT TO BE HERE.”

                “Good point,” I breathe, losing my voice.

                Run for the door. Move your dumb little legs and RUN.

                Whirling and finally taking my own brain’s advice, I sprint down the rest of the path toward the door, praying I don’t slip on any ice. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

                When she slammed her hand down, I saw it. Obviously she’s not human, humans aren’t a million feet tall, but that hand… it wasn’t flesh, either. It was jointed, rough metal.

                That thing’s a giant freaking robot.

                I slide to a stop at the door and scramble for the decorated silver knob, slamming my whole body against it to ram it open.

                It doesn’t budge.

                “O-oh, c’mon!” I desperately laugh, shaking the door like I shook the other one.

                Then the ground shakes. Violently. That’s not me. The whole catwalk feels like it’s gonna come apart. I can feel it weakening under me. I brace myself as I’m struck with another blast of icy air. Door’s not opening. It’s not gonna open.

                The white light grows brighter against the door. She’s coming closer. Slowly, I turn my head to watch as the massive figure, one hand scraping down the length of the catwalk, and the other holding… something I don’t bother looking closely at, silently moves this way in the darkness.

                I know it’s just a dream. I know it’s not real, so…

                Why… am I so scared of her?

                “What… are you…?” I whisper.

                Instead of getting an answer, I get the feeling of a hand gripping the front of my shirt. And it pulls me. Hard.

                I’m yanked off my feet and tumble forward, yelping, through the doorway. ‘Cause it just opened.

                I trip over the doorframe as I clear it and crash directly into whoever grabbed me, knocking us both to the ground on the other side of the door and collapsing on top of them in a heap.

                I shake my dizzy head and force one eye open. It’s so much brighter out here. And I say out here because I’ve found myself surrounded by a wide open landscape of gently glowing white dust and hills.

                And on the horizon, a thick field of stars in the sky.

                I push myself up on my hands once my arms stop shaking to get a good look at who the heck I’m on right now.

                I’m relieved to find that the girl I see is just a normal-sized, non-robot girl.

                One wearing a long, old-looking nightgown, triangle rollers (anglers, I think?) in her purple hair, and staring back up at me in wide-eyed shock as she clings to the front of my shirt. I know this one. She’s like the cat that came back.

                This is Rose Valdis.

                “D’artagnan…!” She gasps.

                “Rose!” I gasp back.

                Except I don’t. I don’t gasp at all.

                I can’t.

                I shoot up, trying to inhale again, and am struck with the distinct and bleeping alarming feeling of having NO AIR. I scramble backward off Rose, puffing up glowing dust everywhere, clawing at my throat and desperately trying to suck in a scrap of oxygen.

                I whip my head around, searching for… an explanation? AIR? But in the few seconds it takes to look around, my frenzied confusion just skyrockets. Scattered across the sea of white are trees and patches of grass. Several yards away is a big, ancient-looking house (I briefly wonder if there’s any AIR in there) and further away, up a hill, sits an observatory. A giant satellite and telescope sticking out of it. I don’t get a better read on account of I’m asphyxiating.

                But as I clutch my throat and look into the night sky, I almost forget my situation. Almost. Because what I see up there is incredible.

                Hanging thousands of miles away in front of the galaxy is a giant turquoise orb. Covered in twisty green islands and surrounded by towers of white clouds. It’s glowing brilliantly. Even from this far, I can see the sunlight sparkling on the surface of the seas.

                Hey, I think! I know that place!

                That’s the freaking earth.

                And this is the freaking moon.

                “Wowcool!” I choke out, making the wrong oxygen choice, and a wave of vertigo knocks me onto my back. In my defense, it’s really cool.

                “Dart!”

                My vision goes spotty as I lie in the dust, and just as I’m thinking suffocating to death on the moon is an interesting way to end this bonkers dream… there’s a snap. And something cold and metal wraps around my neck.

                Instantaneously, a shield of glass explodes from it and seamlessly forms together; a giant fishbowl around my head. A pressurized gas sprays out from the base of the bowl, and my heaving chest is finally rewarded… with actual breath.

                I wheeze clumsily, my hands flying up to pat the bowl on my head. Right. Space helmet. Very good. No clue where it came from, but I’m not complaining, especially since that felt realer than any other pain I’ve felt in a dream. And hey, turns out? Unpleasant!

                “I… I apologize for that…”

                Wobbling, I sit up to see Rose standing, awkwardly brushing space dust off her nightgown. She looks too ashamed to even be discreet about avoiding eye contact. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pulled you in here.”

                Not quite sure where this dream is taking me, but I shake my head.

                “Wh-what, the suffocating? D-don’t worry… about it,” I gasp. My voice reverberates in the helmet. I steadily rise to my feet, pointing over my shoulder toward the now-closed door. “This place is n-neat, and it sure as heck beats that place.”

                “… Thou truly thinkest this place neat?”

                “Yeah, why not?” I smirk at the grass, the white hills, the big, old house. It’s nice. I guess I don’t mind it here. “The moon’s awesome when you can breathe.”

                Rose gently smiles, bashfully averting her gaze. She seems… touched. I guess she really likes the moon???

                But this does weird things to my feelings that I don’t like- it’s not like I was trying to make her all… th-that!- so I move on. “… But what I really wanna know about is that.” I point more deliberately toward the door- and the giant robot demon lady inside. “You’re a dream character. D’ya have any lore about whatever the heck that thing was?”

                “Dream… character?”

                “I don’t really lucid dream, but that’s how this works, right? I communicate with my subconscious about the weird things it shows me and gain, like… insight?”

                Footsteps approach fast through the dust. I jolt, whirling to face the observatory. I didn’t exactly expect life up here besides me and Rose, but there is. It’s… it’s a…

                Little… moon-man? Skidding to a stop out of a stiff run is a little creature about 75% our height, wearing a spacesuit and a helmet like mine- the only difference being that its helmet is completely tinted black. I can’t see inside.

                I rapidly look between it and Rose, deeply interested in gaining that insight I mentioned. She doesn’t look surprised by it- just perturbed.

                The moon-man wordlessly holds up a thick comb-bound stack of white papers toward her. And then, when all she does in reply is groan inwardly, it gets fed up waiting and unceremoniously drops the whole tome to the ground, kicking up a bunch of dust.

                “Right, yeah. Thank you,” Rose sighs, wearily eyeing it. “I’ll… see to it later.”

                Did Rose Valdis just say ‘yeah’?

                Just as it arrived, the moon-man turns and runs back up the hill to the observatory. The building’s featureless metal doors slide open and it disappears inside, leaving us with the hefty plastic-bound tome on the ground. The heck was that? Trying not to look nosy and probably not doin’ that, I lean over the book. The cover is bland, with three lines of text printed on it:

                               EARTHLINGS – VOL IV
                               DRAFT LXXXVII
                               FINAL IV (FINAL)

                I raise a brow, (wish I could read Roman numerals.) and don’t notice Rose walking away until she speaks again.

                “Thou hast got it wrong,” she says. “Tis not thy subconscious. Tis mine.”

                I freeze.

                “… Y-yours? So, what?” Beginning to feel like I really, really don’t belong here. “… I’m in your mind…?”

                Rose continues on, up the hill the observatory sits on. I can’t help but look around at everything again. Like it’s new because it’s not mine. “I know not the meaning of yon automaton. I’ve seen strange things of late in dreams, but I’ve seen that not before. But mayhaps now thou can help me.”

                I chase her up the hill. In the distance, it looks like there are a few more moon-men, the difference being they’re wearing ties and holding stamps in their hands. I don’t pay it much mind, because… dude.

                “Wait. So this isn’t my dream! You’re real? How did I get here? Wh-why? Were those other places yours too?”

                How could I be in another person’s mind? It’s obvious, right? It should be. But I ask every question but that one. I refuse to consider it because it’s ridiculous. Rose’s back is still to me. She stops several yards from the observatory on the flat hilltop, looking up at Earth.

                                [o]

                “Did you suck me into your mind? Can you do that? I-is that what those doors—?”

                “The sixth sense, D’artagnan. Tis like feeling truth. Mine abilities beeth not strong,” she says. “But I could sense a change in thee at once. An awakening. How exciting, to witness such a thing!” She turns to me, and her grin almost looks wicked. “And now- thou see it thyself- it is here!”

                Awakening.

                It all clicks. The strange whispering. The burning in my head. The fire. This whole messed up dream. The unplaceable new sense.

                They point to one thing.

                And I consider it; like she’d asked me to earlier. My heart starts sinking, but nooo. No way. It can’t be that. It can’t be.

                My mouth is dry. Almost appeasing, I raise my shaking hands. “Rose… I get the feeling maybe being cryptic is your bag. A-and that’s fine! But this sounds important.” She doesn’t turn to face me again, admiring the planet above, so I move closer. “S-so I need you to calmly tell me- in English...” My legs are shaking too.

                It can’t be that.

                “What exactly have I awakened as?”

                That finally turns her around. It can’t be. She pauses, face just vaguely twisted in confusion, processing, like she can’t conceive why I’d need to ask that.

                But she answers anyway.

                “A psychic.”

Notes:

well i mean when you tee her up like that dart

that was chapter two! by this point you've probably realized that despite being bootleg psychonauts, the b team is not as action-centric as psychonauts proper. it's kinda more... adventure mystery? rest assured though things are gonna pop off.

by the way, my voiceclaim for rose is is spectra vondergeist from monster high and my voiceclaim for dart is tino from the weekenders. either that or kirito from SWE's SAO abridged series. this one's for you, vergo.

chapter two art: https://imgur.com/a/k6qcrrt

Chapter 3: Leave a Note

FILE: TALWAR, D. MEMORY ACCOUNT 0003

 

                Psychic.

                I’m standing in the bathroom, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, staring at the water running in the sink.

                Psychic.

                It’s been repeating in my head from the second I woke up and it’s like that the whole morning.

                Psychic psychic psychic get out of bed psychic go to the bathroom psychic brush teeth psychic psychic get dressed psychic put on hat psychic go downstairs psychic eat breakfast psychic psychic psychic psych—

                I slam the fridge door closed, throw my back to it, and slide to the floor. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. I wanna re-wake up. How am I supposed to deal with this?? It can’t be me, right? Other people are psychic. But I’m not them! This kinda thing doesn’t happen to me!

                I deny it over and over again, like I’ve been doing since the second Rose told me what she did and I jolted awake, but it’s like my mind is denying me right back. Like it knows the truth and apparently, I know nothing.

                … But it’s crazy, right?! It can’t be true!

                “There’s no way it can be true,” I mumble aloud, to nobody.

                …

                To nobody.

                I raise my head, and for the first time this morning, realize I’m alone.

                I can usually tell if Angus is home or not, even if we’re not interacting, but right now I think… I can feel it. I try really hard not to think about the implications of that PSYCHIC—

                I whimper and shoot back to my feet. I pace across the kitchen and my darting eyes catch a glimpse of the blackboard.

                                Hey, left the house. Think there’s something I need to do.

                                I should be able to pick you up tomorrow.

                My breathing slows. Did he never come home at all? When he said he was leaving the house, I didn’t think he meant this long…

                The stubborn part of me thinks he's doing this to spite me, but I’m relieved. Now I don’t have to handle him battering me with questions about why I’m losing it right now and me having to continually tell him I don’t know what he’s talking about despite the fact that I’m totally losing it right now.

                But I still need to go to school.

                If this’d happened to me during the school year, I could’ve just skipped, but not now. I have to go there, deal with this, and pretend in front of everyone who won’t even care that I’m not losing it right now and that everything’s fine and that I’m fine.

                … Rose.

                The frigging moon girl.

                She’s psychic. She’s the one who dropped this bomb on me last night! She said before she could sense an “awakening” in me. She knew. If there’s one person on this planet I can talk to about this, it’s her.

                I frown at Angus’ note, pulling my bookbag on. Fine. I can walk to school. I could do with a walk.

               

                I run.

 

                Rose’s already sitting in the back of class when I rush into Friede’s room.

                I rush to her, brushing past Addy, and (because dramatically slapping my hands down seems unnecessarily conspicuous) rest my hands on her desk, staring her down.

                She looks up and her eyes widen. She shuts the book she was reading.

                “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

                It’s a painfully long math class as I wait for the “talk” Rose promises me. I can’t even focus enough to feel bad about getting nothing done. I just put in the nonsense I know I eventually would and move on. I can barely sit still on good days. Today my hand is literally clamped around my leg the whole period to stop me from getting up and pacing.

                Rose sits beside me, occasionally looking over, but doesn’t seem too concerned.

                “Why can’t we cut class and talk now?” I desperately hiss to her when I get the chance.

                “Well, we could, but…” She whispers back, fiddling with her pencil. “T’would be best, I think, to involve my companions as well. They, too, are like us.”

                My stomach twists. I don’t know if I’m ready for psychic : us yet. I slump down.

                “What companions?”

 

                “So, lemme get this straight,” I begin, attempting to get this straight.

                In a dim alcove in the hallway by the bathrooms, two people stand before me. Not kids- adults. Familiar adults.

                Miss Friede and Officer Morales.

                                [o]

                “You two are psychics.”

                Morales is all smiles. My life has been irrecoverably changed but it still annoys me. “I had a feeling about you, Dart!”

                “Shut up. No you didn’t. Don’t think about me.”

                Rose gestures at her “companions.” I can’t believe she’s friends with grownups. “Gwen and Miguel have been a great aid to me.”

                “Gwen and Miguel?!” I squawk. I can’t believe she’s on a first-name basis with grownups. With a cop. With Morales.

                She’s smiling so big, though, I should be able to. “When I awoke as a psychic, t’was these two there for me when I could count on not a one else.”

                “Aww, Rose,” ‘Gwen’ Friede softly says.

                “We tried to teach Rose all we knew, but… it’s not much.” She smiles, but she looks tired. She did yesterday, too, but now it seems even worse. “There isn’t exactly professional psychic training around here.”

                “Training…?” I repeat unsurely. What conversation are we having here?

                “Telepathic skills are more useful than the kinetic,” Rose gushes. “But Gwen taught me PSI-fist and telekinesis whilst Miguel taught me to double-jump and summon a shield!”

                Morales shrugs. “Everyone could use some self-defense skills.”

                Oh.

                They think my problem right now is that I wanna know how to use the powers I just got. Like my issue would be that I can’t yet use my brain as a bottle of mace.

                “Wait, what’re you—that’s not…!” I stammer. “G-guys, I just wanna learn how to keep it all under wraps! I thought that was the point of this!”

                Friede squints. “Under wraps?”

                I sigh.

                “Look. I think I set the classroom on fire yesterday,” I whisper. “I think I almost set my brother on fire. I think I was hearing people’s thoughts, and it was seriously overwhelming. I dunno what else is gonna spring out on me, and I just wanna keep a lid on it.” Helpless, I shrug. “How do you do it?”

                Smiling, Rose puts a hand on my shoulder. And just like before, I feel that presence. That spotlight on my mind. Could that’ve been Rose trying to read my thoughts? All I’m thinking right now is “psychic scary,” so nothing of note in there, but… and this is sorta hard to explain…

                It’s actually pretty easy to shut out? It takes me no effort to close a shield around my mind in the total abstract. I just kinda do it.

                “I’ve known thy fear,” she says. “But I ask: since last night, hearest thou thoughts? Setest thine belongings alight? Thy subconscious shall do thy lid-keeping, now thy conscious mind knoweth the truth.”

                “Despite the stereotype, that’s the case with most psychics, little buddy,” Morales explains. Gotta say, his being here is making my day worse. “The trouble’s usually in unlocking that stuff.”

                I relax, relieved and exhausted. That was all I needed.

                “Good. ‘Cause I wanna forget this ever happened.”

                Rose’s hand slips off my shoulder. “What…?”

                I straighten my clothes and hat, now I’m not on the verge of a freakout. “I appreciate it, but I don’t want my brain getting all—!” I pause. How do I say this without being a jerk? “I-I have enough weird crap up here to deal with as is!”

                “But… you have a gift,” Rose says. “Thou couldst use it for good…!”

                Good.

                I freeze and turn back to her. Same poker face as always. Wide eyes, unmoved, but it doesn’t stop me from squinting at her, trying to get any read I can. It’s hard, she’s really good. But I’m not letting that go. Good.

                I frown into my cheek. “What kind of good…?”

                She doesn’t respond except to break eye contact, clearly thinking of a response. I’ve seen this before. She did the same thing yesterday, when I asked her, “why me?”

                I lean closer to her, narrowing my eyes further. “This is still about the case. Isn’t it, Rose Valdis?”

                “Nay!” She fires back. She pauses, then wrings her hands. “Well… n-not entirely…”

                I scoff in exasperation and step back, rolling my eyes. “Oh, I knew it!”

                She still really wants me for that? Why? It didn’t make sense then and it don’t now! She could pluck anyone outta this school and they’d be just as to more useful on an amateur missing-persons case as I would! I’m Dart!

                “Wait,” Morales asks, confused. “What is this about…?”

                Friede sighs heavily. Her wiry hair falls in front of her face. “Miguel. Rose has been… having psychic dreams about the missing people. She thinks this might be a case for the Psychonauts, and she wants to prove it. I- I think it is, too.”

                I flinch. The Psychonauts! I practically shout inside. Like, the real Psychonauts? The actual international psychic agency? Here in Buttcrack of Nowhere, Nowata? Is that how serious she’s taking this?

                “Rose! ‘Prove it?’” Morales exclaims. He puts his hands on his hips, frowning down at her like he’s her dad. Well, maybe. I wouldn’t know. “What did we say about this kind of thing?”

                “Tis not dangerous!”

                “It could get dangerous! You never know what the people you question could do, sweetheart!”

                Oh right, she’s a PI.

                She looks… bitter. “I can’t question anyone on my own, you know that. I know not how I’ll even speak to the Psychonauts, given proof.”

                Oh, she’s a bad PI.

                … Y’know what I just noticed?

                “You know, Miguel, she wouldn’t have to do this if the police would agree to work with her visions,” Friede huffs.

                Morales wilts. “You… you know I can’t…”

                I just noticed this conversation doesn’t involve me anymore and I should dip before I make things awkward.

                “Everyone knows you’re the only officer there who actually cares about this case, Miguel!”

                “That’s not true…!”

                Nonchalant is my middle name. I inch away from them and start down the hallway before anyone can notice.

                “And we’re losing time!” Friede snaps.

                And notices.

                “Ah, Dart!” I flinch, turning around. They’re all looking at me. “Where are you going?”

                “Um. Lunch?”

                Rose bites her lip. She looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t.

                Morales straightens his dumb stupid police hat, brow creased in concern. “Y-you sure you’ll be okay, pal?”

                Nope.

                “Yeah, sure, if it’ll get you off my back.” I wave him off. “I can handle it.”

                I leave the three by the bathrooms, heading off toward the cafeteria. And- for once, not wanting to be rude- call back, “Thanks anyway!”

 

                Since I forgot to bring lunch from home again, I sit down at a corner table and pick at the semi-organic substance the school gave us. Yeah I ain’t eating this.

                Rose… doesn’t sit beside me. Makes sense. She said she’d only been following me because she sensed my psychic awakening and wanted to watch. I don’t take it personally.

                In a cloud of disbelief and lack of appetite, lunch breezes by quick.

                It’s weird. How nothing happens? I sit there for so long waiting for everything to radically change. Because I’m psychic now, so every stable thing in my life should be flipped on its head too, right?

                … It doesn’t happen, however hard I brace myself. At least not yet.

                I’m still waiting.

 

                Social studies. Sorry, no Xander this time. I’m sure you’re really itching to hear some more about him. Later.

                Right now it’s just some old lady who makes me feel like I’m dying and falling asleep once she tells us to take our seats. I figure she can’t help it, but still. And then I figure she probably can help it, and for my sake she should stay at just below a yell at all times. No, never mind, I would hate that.

                Yeah this is just me stalling because I gotta decide where to sit.

                I know where I wanna sit. In the back of class, by the window. But Rose is back there.

                I sigh. I’m getting used to sitting by myself. It’s fine. I don’t need to talk to random classmates about whatever inane stuff they’re interested in. But when Rose sat with me yesterday, I realized how much less awkward I felt about just looking alone around everyone else.

                Now she’s all alone back there. Maybe she doesn’t mind either, but maybe I wanna sit there anyway. She’s been… nice. To me.

                I know, right? Wanting to be near someone because they’re nice to you? Such a sucker’s game. Any pro at the whole con I plan to pull in life wouldn’t take the bait so easy. But I guess I’m not there yet.

                I’m just there enough… for it to burn as I walk over and open my mouth to talk.

                “Can I… sit with you?”

                She looks up with a start. And it continues to burn as I stand like a dummy awaiting her response.

                “Yes, of course,” she says, the same big-eyed smile on her face. My butt’s already in the chair beside hers as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

                Once I settle I can tell: there’s a weird air hanging around this spot right now. I wonder if she can tell. Probably! I’m pretty sure I’ve been beating back her mind!

                I know it’s from the conversation in the hall, but I’m not used to that. Heck, with Angus, arguments are a sport. But it’s not like that with Rose. We barely know each other and I already know I don’t wanna fight her.

                So I’ll do what I always do to resolve conflict.

                Talk about literally anything else.

                “D’artagnan, if I misled thee, I beg thy forgiveness,” Rose says out of nowhere before I can.

                I blink over as she opens her textbook. “T’was my intention not to lend thee aid, only expecting it in kind. Especially at such disproportion.”

                Ah, jeez, she’s apologizing. I wish she wasn’t, because now I feel the need to too. And this’ll sound stupid… but I don’t know how to do that without looking dumb. It’s not something I practice a lot.

                “Yeah, well,” I mumble. “I shouldn’t’ve gotten bent outta shape about it anyways.”

                I stealth-glance back at her. She’s smiling silently to herself. So we’re good now? I guess? (I hope?)

                “If thou likest…” she slowly says. “I live with mine parents above Mortimer’s Pharmacy. Thou couldst visit me there. Uh… if questions about thy psychic mind appear to thee.”

                … Huh. It’s been a while since another kid actually invited me over. That sounded really sad, I wish it hadn’t been recorded.

                Mortimer’s Pharmacy. I know where that is.

                I’m not really interested in… asking questions about this. But I appreciate it anyway.

                “Oh, uh… thanks!” I shrug. “For the offer.”

                She smiles. When she does, I notice. Rose had had bags under her eyes yesterday, and I didn’t spot it earlier, but they’re still here today and they only look deeper.

                A table ahead of us, Addy straightens up as Bolen Flake approaches reaching for the chair near them.

                “Nope. Take a hike, Flake, I am not dealing with you right now.”

                Bolen blinks, surprised. “Wh… I haven’t even—!”

                “Get lost,” they interrupt, shoving the other chair back in and sliding down in their seat, arms crossed tightly.

                Bolen heads off, glaring back at them, and leaves them silently alone.

                “Jeez,” I whisper to Rose. “I didn’t realize Addy could get mean.”

                “Tis their care for their beloved’s kin. Mx. Ellotts.” Their beloved? Wait, does that mean Addy and Clementine are…?

                “The men in uniform frustrate them,” she says in that spacey way that makes me unsure if it’s for me or not. And not seeming to care how long she stares.

                “My friend Miguel tries hard, but I fear tis true he beeth the only officer in Shakestone to.”

                I hunch over the bland worksheet that ended up on my desk at some point to distract myself from the inexplicable cruddy feeling I have.

                “Hope they pick up the pace,” I mutter.

                It starts raining.

 

                Right.

                An umbrella woulda helped.

                With second period out at one, I stand under the awning in front of school, watching the last of the kids run to their parents’ cars or walk down the hill under umbrellas together through the drizzling rain. I sigh. Angus still hasn’t showed.

                I don’t think he’s coming.

                “Are you waiting for someone?”

                Someone walks out the double doors and stops beside me. I look up to see Friede, hands in her coat pockets.

                I hum and peer down the street. “I thought I was, but I think my big brother’s, uh… spiting me. It’s fine, though, I walk home a lot.”

                We stand silently for a bit. I know she didn’t come out just for that, so all I can do is wait for her to get to the point.

                “So, you’re… walking home,” she awkwardly says.

                “Yup.”

                “Well, before you go, then!” She rushes. “Maybe I can show you how to use your PSI-fist!”

                Damn it.

                “Like I showed Rose.”

                I whirl on her. “Wha-why? What’s so important to you people about me using my powers?”

                Friede sighs. “Dart, sweetie, it’s not necessarily about using your powers.”

                “… Then what is it about?”

                “Using your powers as a ten year old boy who might encounter danger walking home from school alone?”

                I shoot her a dead-eyed look. Her return poker-face rivals Rose Valdis.

                “It’s easy. What could the harm be?”

                I cross my arms. Fine. I can disprove that. “Okay. If it’s so easy, shoot.”

                She smiles, proud of herself for scoring a point on me. She shuts her eyes, touching her hand to her chest. “It’s all about willpower.”

                Called it. “Welp, I’m done.”

                “It’s about willing a mental projection of your fist into—” She blinks, startled. “Wh- you’re done?”

                “Please.” I turn toward the rain. “I get that’s the name of the game with psychic powers, but I can’t just will anything into anything. We both know that. That fire was an accident, and so was the mindreading. Limits, remember?”

                In the corner of my eye, Friede frowns.

                I can’t help but laugh at her concern. Right. ‘Danger.’ “C’mon, Miss Friede, it’s Shakestone. Not exactly Crime Central.”

                Smirking out at the rain, I go on. “Also, I’m eleven. It’s not like I’m dumb enough to get kid…!”

                Oh.

                A thought occurs.

                “… Napped.”

                Friede seemed pretty invested in the disappearances too… didn’t she? And she’s also seemed…

                Well. On the verge of a breakdown.

                She flips the peace sign on her necklace in her fingers, trying to keep the sadness off her face.

                “Friede, you…” Don’t say knew, DON’T say knew. “… know someone in that club who went missing, don’t you?”

                A crow caws on top of the school.

                “Yes. She never made it to one of their meetups. She never made it back home. I’ve been reaching out to her, but…” She trails off.

                Well. That sucks enormous butt. I don’t know how to comfort people. Especially when they’re my teachers and three times older than me. I swallow hard.

                “Well… like I said. Shakestone. Small town, right?” I awkwardly fold my arms. “They gotta be somewhere on this mountain. Gotta be.”    

                She laughs her fake teacher-laugh. “Of course! I-I’m sure someone will find them.”

                The thing about this being a small town means I keep running into people who’ve been affected by this psychology club thing, and it keeps bumming me out.

                “Anyway, I’m gonna split.” I tuck my hat’s tail into my collar. “I might. Try. That PSI-fist thing. With the willpower. Maybe.”

                “Right now? You don’t want to wait for the rain to lighten up?”

                “I can take a little drizzle, Friede,” I cockily respond. I step out into the light rain. “This is fine.”

                Of course, about two seconds later starts the torrential downpour. I’m drenched instantly. My hat slips down over my eyes. My shoulders drop.

                “… Are you sure?” Friede calls as I stiffly hurry down the path to the road. Too late to turn back now!

                “NO FORGET IT THIS IS FINE I LOVE THE RAIN I WAS BORN IN THE RAIN.”

 

                I slam the front door behind me as hard as possible.

                I pull my hat, bookbag and coat off, throwing them to the floor, and obnoxiously stomp from the living room to the kitchen, tracking wet water through the house. I feel better already.

                Or at least I would. Angus isn’t down here to witness me ruining the house, and he certainly isn’t down here for me to curse out for not showing and making me walk home in the rain.

                The blackboard catches my eye.

                                I should be able to pick you up tomorrow.

                Pick me up my foot.

                I grumble at it and the way it’s starting to make me feel sick and go grab a soda from the fridge. (That purple “Bravo Cola” is still in there. I decide against that kind.) And storming back to the living room and hanging on the staircase railing, I call upstairs:

                “Angus! I’m home!” And under my breath as I raise my soda to my mouth, “You turdbird.”

                Not a word.

                I flinch as water from my dripping hair falls onto my shoulders. I groan, stomping up the stairs.

                “It’s comin’ down pretty hard out there, kids!” I shout at Ang’s room as I make my way to the bathroom to dry off. “Better make sure no responsible adults tell you they’ll give you a ride and then vanish into—!”

                Wait.

                “… Thin air.”

                … Was Angus’ room empty?

                I walk back to his door and cautiously enter. So it is. Not a brother to be found. Only thing to be found here is the sound of a clock ticking and the clutter of a twenty-three year old teenager.

                “Ang!” I call out to the house, staring into the empty room like he’s gonna jump out. My eyes linger on the umbrella hanging up on the wall. It was pouring today, so if he’d been back, he would’ve grabbed it.

                I growl and leave the room in frustration.

                If he doesn’t get home soon, I’m gonna flip out.

 

                I’m gonna flip out.

                I don’t know why people get on my case about chewing my pencil erasers. It’s only a problem when you chew them so hard they fall off! Like I just did!

                I sit on the dining room table, craned over my homework. I’ve filled out exactly two blanks in this packet in the span of four hours.

                Can’t focus. The sun’ll go down soon and Angus still isn’t here. He hasn’t even called. I thought he’d at least do that. And now I’m really feeling sick. My hands rub my face. What is it lately with this dumb brother of mine distracting me from the work he alone wanted me to do to begin with?

                I lean off the table far enough to peer into the living room at the front door, like I’ve been doing ad nauseam. No activity.

                I stuff the tail of my hat between my teeth, suppressing another sigh, and hunch over my work, bullcrapping my answers. Some answer’s better than none, right?

                Quit worrying, I scold myself. He’ll show up when he wants. I’m gonna do my work and not play Ang’s game. I ain’t blinking first. Unlike him, I have a bright future that apparently hinges entirely on me being able to do homework for two weeks! Which isn’t EASY with SOME PEOPLE disappearing without a trace!

                I memorize meaningless information long enough to copy it down and my worries melt away. I’m not even thinking about how I now need to be careful if I ever go to certain places down south now! Or that I might accidentally set a fire again! Or the argument I had with Angus yesterday OH FOR PETE’S SAKE.

                I slam my pencil down, lean out to check the door, slip off the table and crash to the floor.

               

                Some answer’s better than none.

                Rubbing my head, I dial ten digits into the phone’s worn rotary and press the stupid receiver to my stupid ear.

                The scrap of paper with the number Angus left to reach him when he’s messing around with Xander’s brain club flutters down to the table.

                The house is so quiet. The phone rings several times before someone picks up. When they do, they pause before they actually speak. It’s in a voice I know.

                                [o]

                “H-hello…?”

                It’s Xander.

                “Hey, Xander?”

                “Dart! Right! Uh, h-hi! What, uh. What’s. Up? What d’ya need?”

                “My brother.” I shake my head, trying not to pace. “I-I mean, I need to know where he is. I haven’t seen him since yesterday and he’s still not home. Have you seen him?”

                Another awkward pause.

                “A-Angus? Huh, no. I… haven’t seen him today. Yesterday, either. S-so weird, haha!”

                Deep breaths, Talwar. Quietly, I ask, “… Not at all?”

                “No. Sorry.”

                I dig my hand into my hair under my hat, trying to keep my cool. No. Don’t be stupid. Not Angus. “Y-you know members of your club have been disappearing, right? How many is it up to now?”

                “It’s not a club,” he corrects me dang-near snootily. “It’s an alliance. Psychology Enthusiast’s Alliance? Y’know?”

                “Schmittlot, I should hope you, at least, would have the slightest idea what’s happening to these people!” I snap, unable to care less about his inane terminology. “Do you even care? Angus is my brother! He’s your friend! Heck, he’s probably your ONLY friend! Do you even care about that—?”

                “Look, I’m sorry, Dart! But w—I haven’t seen him! If he shows up, I’ll let you know.”

                “Okay, if you hang up on me I swear to god you’re-” I’m interrupted by a steady tone. “-ohh, fuuUUUNK YOU, YA DUMB PIECE OF—!”

 

                Sun’s going down.

                I’m being crazy, right? I hope I am. I’d prefer it to the alternative. That I’m not.

                But I’m psychic. Apparently. And I have such a horrible feeling right now.

                I turn on my heel at the end of the rut I’ve been carving into the hallway and head to Angus’ room. This time I don’t stop. Sick to death of pacing, I force my butt down on the edge of his bed. The setting sun dips behind the mountain and darkens the room. It exposes how off everything is.

                His computer, still on since yesterday and probably overheating. His desk chair and the jacket hanging over the back of it. A mug of old coffee, congealing, and some gross food from yesterday morning, sitting on top of his dresser.

                His umbrella, hanging up, bone dry. The note he left for me.

                Angus thought he’d be right back. This isn’t right and saying otherwise would be lying to myself- and right now, super irresponsible. I’m an idiot, not braindead. I can put two and two together and it adds up pretty simply. Angus never made it to whatever he had to do and he never made it back.

                And I don’t know what to do about that.

                But I think I know someone who does.

Notes:

i gotta be honest i don't have that much to say here! except that i am very excited about basically every chapter going forward.

chapter three art: https://imgur.com/a/CgfiUnF

Chapter 4: The Teamup

FILE: TALWAR, D. MEMORY ACCOUNT 0004

 

                What am I doing?

                I slip in the same puddle twice running up some street. The sunset casting over the mountaintop makes them all glow orange. It should look nice, but just like everything else right now, it looks eerie. The farther the sun drops, the more I feel like I’m losing time. Which is why I’m running.

                But running there? Maybe part of me thinks I’m being crazy. Angus is twenty-three. Maybe he got a boyfriend or girlfriend and is out on a road trip with them! Maybe he got arrested for driving stupid! Maybe if I was surer, I’d be calling the cops right now instead of… this.

                                [o]

                I drift around the corner, almost eating it into someone’s bins, and book it up the middle of the road. It’s right there. I slide to a halt before Mortimer’s Pharmacy and the apartment directly above it.

                Maybe I am being crazy. And yet…

                “ROOOSE!” I shout up at the apartment. “ROSE VALDIS!”

                No immediate response. Unacceptable.

                I bend down next to a red bike chained to the store’s front railing and pick a sizable pebble up from the sidewalk.

                “ROOOOSE—!” I shout again, chucking it at the nearest window—just as someone opens it.

                “Ow!”

                “Oh, sh—! Uh, my bad! Sir.” I shift awkwardly. In the window is a round middle-aged man with gray hair and like… a pinstripe suit.

                He grumbles, rubbing his forehead where I totally just beaned him with a rock. Like, I nailed him. “Don’t children these days have phones?”

                “I don’t think either of us wanna date this, sir.”

                “Who are you, anyway? What do you want with my daughter?”

                “Um… a little boy, so her classmate, probably?” Okay, probably won’t help matters. “I need her help with my… h-homework.”

                He scoffs and kinda looks me up and down with disdain. “I hope you’re not trying to copy Rosemary’s work. Unlike some students, she at least pulls her own weight.”

                “S’cuse m—?”

                “D’artagnan?”

                The window two down is open now, and there she is, leaning across the sill- Rose.

                “Hey! You!”

                “What bringeth thee all this way hither, friend?”

                “I mean, I only live a couple streets down—”

                “Rosemary,” Dad Valdis rudely interrupts, glaring over at Rose from his window. “Did you finish your homework?”

                “Yes, of course, father! All of it!”

                “Hmph.” Frowning, he disappears inside and closes the window. This guy has the stinkiest personality and I hate him. Put it on a blimp.

                Once he’s gone, I’m back at Rose. Clock’s ticking. “Rose, listen, you got a minute? I think something happened and for some reason you’re the only person I could think to talk to about it.”

                Rose looks, at the very least, quizzically interested. “Of course… wouldst thou likest to come inside?”

                “No.” I glance around the empty street. “No, we should probably do this alone.”

                “Right.” She nods. “Wait there, and I shall descend momentarily.”

                Rose’s dad calls again, this time from I think her bedroom door. She turns and he says something I don’t hear clearly, but I think it’s, “You’re not going anywhere until I check your work.”

                “U-uh, yes, father!” Before closing her window, she looks down at me, brow furrowed. “Just a moment.”

 

                In the minute or so I wait for Rose, I begin to lose my mind.

                I pace before the storefront, eyes darting around for something to focus on besides my whirlpool of thoughts. This results in me doing a practical sextuple take at the red bike beside the store.

                It must be Rose’s. Not just because of the size, but because I just realized… this bike is weird.

                It looks motor-powered- and I dunno about motors, but it doesn’t look quite right- and the cute bell on the handle seems to have some kinda… gauge in it? Before I can get a closer look, Rose appears, walking out of the alley.

                She dusts off her skirt, eyeing me. “Dart.”

                “C’mon,” I growl, grabbing her arm and hauling her down the street.

                “Rose… how much exactly do you know about the PEA disappearances?”

                She looks troubled by my innocent turn of abbreviation. “PEA disappearances?”

                “Psychology Enthusiast’s Alliance.” She blinks, surprised. “I started calling them PEA because I thought it’d be funny and it is.”

                “Not… much,” Rose answers, eyes still wide from my sudden interest in this… case. I understand. Me too. “I know a day one fortnight ago marks the start of the disappearances, and four have there been, now Cerise Ellotts joins them. And not a one missing soul hath returned nor been found.”

                I stop walking to face her, heart sinking. “Four people are missing? How is this not a bigger deal?”

                “This I know not, and this too burneth my mind with curiosity.”

                Something big and dead must be fermenting in my stomach. I think fortnight means two weeks in English. It’s been two weeks for some of these people. And they’re still gone.

                If the cops really aren’t doing anything about this, then… then…

                “D’artagnan?”

                “Then who’s gonna help me…?” I mutter, lost.

                “Prithee, help with what? What maketh thee so…” Rose freezes, dawning comprehension overtaking her face. “Your brother.”

                It’s starting to get cold out.

                “He didn’t come home. I thought he’d be back last night, but he wasn’t!” And I yelled at him. “He never showed up at school, and Xander hasn’t seen him, and…” And I yelled at him.

                “And…”

                Just say it.

                “I think… my stupid brother got disappeared too.”

                “Dart.” Rose touches her hand to my shoulder. How it rests there is awkward. Like she doesn’t have a lot of experience with the gesture. I understand. Me neither.

                Her eyes narrow. Some fiery emotion breaks through her neutrality. “I will help you.”

                Duh. Of course she will. That’s why she’s bothering with this to begin with, right? To help people. Even punks like me.

                She grins, baring her teeth. “And thou wilt help me.”

                …

                Right.

                “The police cast their eyes this way not, but hence lies brightness. My visions, my dreams, they have been much too strong. Too strong to be a gift near to nature. There is a psychic aspect to this entire event, doubtlessly.”

                What does a “psychic aspect” even mean? Like, beyond giving elementary school girls psychic visions?

                “We need only know more! Enough to present this case to the Psychonauts and beg intervention!”

                Too overwhelmed to respond, I frown unsurely back.

                Getting the point, her wide gaze softens a little. “I know thee thinkest this not thine adventure. But when a void of action must be filled, tis anyone’s, regardless of peril.”

                Oh jeez, what am I tacitly agreeing to right now? I wanna help Angus but I don’t wanna be me and help him! If it were up to me to save him- heck, if he even needs saving, and that’s a big if!- it’d be an automatic DNF scenario, and that’s kinda exactly how important she’s making this sound!

                “It beeth the call, elsewise said. Someone has to answer.”

                My nerves force a laugh out of me. “O-okay, bring it down a notch.”

                Rose tilts her head as I elaborate on my notch-down-ing request. “Look, I’ll do this. But the Psychonauts, they’re automatically Team Alfa on this thing. They’ll always be! They earned it! So I’m sure they wax dramatic about calls to adventure and peril and whatnot. A-all we’re doing is deciding whether to call someone halfway capable to find my brother and those other nerds, right? And that’s Bravo-level stuff at most. So, let’s cautiously move forward with your plan…”

                I take her by the shoulders and look her straight in the eye to ensure she’s understanding me.

                “… and just consider us the B Team. … For now. Yeah?”

                “That soundeth agreeable.”

                I squint. “No peril?”

                “No peril.”

                I release her to put my hands on my hips and take a big, pacified breath. Well, so long as we’re agreed.

                “Good. … So… what exactly was your plan?”

 

                I didn’t know Shakestone had a community center. I didn’t even know we had a community.

                But I’m headed community-center-ward anyway. That’s where PEA meets up. And we’re gonna try to catch Xander before he goes home.

                “So, we’re just gonna… talk to the guy? That’s the plan?”

                “Aye!”

                “I guess I was expecting like a stakeout or something. Looking at old newspapers in the library and stuff.”

                “Wherefore?”

                I’m sitting on the rear rack of Rose’s bike as it rides downhill. This is… definitely an old bike, but a smoother ride than I expected. But even still, the make, the bell, the weird motor… it’s not like any bike I’ve seen.

                “Uh… ‘cause you’re a PI?”

                “… PEA… inspector…?”

                “… Private investi—” This conversation is so dumb. In a half-second I change the subject to something I’m much more curious about. “Rose, what is this thing?”

                “Hm?” She peers over her shoulder to see what I mean. Her brow raises. “A bicycle.”

                Rose don’t be like that. “N-no, but I mean—”

                Something catches her eye behind us. “Halt, do I miss a turn? The community center beeth on King street, yes?”

                She turns in her seat, one hand resting thoughtfully on her cheek and the other on her hip.

                …

                That’s two hands.

                “AGH!” I throw my arms either side of her, smushing my chest against her back and flailing for the handlebars before we can go wobbling directly into a car. What is up with this chick?!

                “Hands on the handlebars!”

                Rose shakes with a laugh. I’m almost too caught up with keeping the bike steady to notice that it’s the first time I’ve heard that sound from her. Almost.

                “Fret not, Dart! This whip shall ghostride itself!”

                But then she grabs my wrists and pulls my hands off the handlebars so I immediately forget that laugh thing and sign off my life.

                “R-ROSE!” I squeeze my eyes shut. She’s crazy. She’s nuts.

                …

                Why have we not crashed yet?

                I crack one eye open, expecting to see the side of a moving van quickly approaching, but… we haven’t even veered off course. With my hands in Rose’s and her feet not even on the pedals, the bike is still just zipping along, right down the middle of the road.

                In fact, it approaches a corner and coasts smoothly around it like a professional.

                Respectfully, what in the heck?

                “H… how…?” I whisper, sitting up and taking my wrists back.

                “Tis powered by Psitanium,” she says, smiling, like she’s excited to be able to say it. She grabs the handlebars, taking physical control again. She taps the bike’s weird bell. “And that beeth not the only trick up its sleeve!”

                I’m riding on the back of a Psitanium-powered bike. That Psitanium? The extremely rare brain rock from space you read about in waiting-room magazines?

                “Wh-where’d you get a…” I sputter. I shake my head. “Ugh, Rose, why do you need me, really? You have a sci-fi bike! You’re clearly gonna know more about psychic investigations than me!”

                “Sell thyself not short, friend,” she tuts. “Thy participation should prove most invaluable. In fact, when we speak to Mr. Schmittlot, thou shouldst take the lead! Thou knowest him after all, yes?”

                I sigh. She really believes in me, huh. This’ll be messy.

                “I mean, barely,” I mutter. “But I’ll try.”

 

                The community center is on King street, FYI.

                Rose and/or the magic bike slow down as we approach the center, shiny glass dripping with rain in the fading sunset.

                The street is almost empty, save us and one other person, exiting the community center’s front door with a weirdly big smile on his face. Schmittlot. Right on time.

                We roll to a stop across the street and I hop off, running over to catch him.

                “Hey, Xander!”

                He jolts. The binder in his arms almost falls, barely avoiding another hilarious paper spill.

                “O-oh! Uh… D-Dart…!” He croaks, smiling tensely. His eyes flicker to Rose beside me. “A-and Rose too. Huh.”

                He blinks at Rose’s bike as she puts the kickstand down beside a bench.

                “… That’s an… interesting bike.”

                Rose nods gratefully, but says nothing.

                He clears his throat and shifts from foot to foot, protectively hugging his binder. “S-so what can I do for you guys?”

                “Uh…” I side-eye Rose. That’s her cue, right? It’s her investigation, she should lead. But the longer I look at her, the more it sets in that she ain’t planning on saying squat.

                “Well…” I begin unsurely in her stead. Sure, why not? I straighten up and puff out my chest, hands on hips. “We just have a few questions for you, if that’s quite alright. Shouldn’t be too long.”

                “Oh. Um,” he stammers. He swallows hard, looking down the street, then back at the bike. He looks like me when I’m trying to escape extended family engagements. Those don’t happen as much lately, but the emotion’s the same:

                Caged animal.

                “Alright, I guess. Why… why don’t we go inside?”

 

                Rose and I hang back behind Xander as he leads us down a flight of steps just inside, toward a secluded meeting room at the end of a dim hallway on the ground floor. ‘Cause I got something serious business to relay to her before we do this:

                “Okay. You be good cop; I’ll be bad cop.”

                She stares back at me. “Cops…”

                And that other thing. How do I say this without coming off rude?

                “And you should also…” I rub my neck. “Talk. Probably.”

                I continue on, leaving Rose standing on the stairs for a few seconds before she follows us again.

                “… Right.”

 

                I cautiously step into the meeting room after Xander as the fluorescent lights come on. Ew, I feel like I’m in a classroom. I can’t escape ‘em.

                Long, paper-lined chalkboards wrapping the walls, a half-bathroom in the far corner, and a few tables and chairs strewn haphazardly around the room. This must be a meeting space for a few different groups. Wait, what am I doing here again?

                Oh yeah, bad cop.

                “So, it’s about the disappearances, right?” Xander sighs. He’s putting his things down on a table near the corner, sitting on the opposite side. He fidgets, like he just wants to get outta here. He keeps looking over at the bathroom, but he ain’t escaping through there. “’Cause I don’t really…”

                I slam my hands down on the table. Xander jumps. (So does Rose.)

                “Obviously it’s about the disappearances,” I hiss, inches from his face.

                “Oh my god,” he whispers.

                “Cut the crap. I know you’re broken up, but the pity card’s only going so far, Schmittlot.” He presses himself against the back of the chair. “Now, there are five people missing out there. How many are left?”

                “N-none!” He blurts out. “Besides me…!”

                “None?” I snap back. Then a thought occurs. Five people gone. None left. That’s…

                I slump, raising a brow incredulously. “Wait, your whole club was only six people?”

                He folds his arms and frowns away. “It’s five people. Angus wasn’t supposed to- he’s not an actual member. … A-and it’s not a club! It’s an alliance!”

                I open my mouth- honestly, to ask why he keeps insisting on “alliance”- but something stops me. Rose’s voice.

                On instinct, I look over once I hear her speak, but… her mouth isn’t moving. She’s looking at me, though, and her words clearly come out:

                “Why do you think you’re being targeted if the Alliance is so small?”

                … It’s her thoughts. Of course! Now that I know what to look for, I realize it’s the exact feeling I got when I was hearing whispering in class. She must be telepathically communicating with me!

                … That’s really freaky!

                I stare dumbly back, wondering why she thought it into my head instead of asking it to Xander.

                “Ask it!” She thinks at me, squinting and head-tilting at Xander.

                … To him? Why can’t—she—?

                I shake my head and turn back to him- glancing between us in confusion. Yeah, I’m sure whatever facial expressions we just exchanged were… interesting.

                “I-if PEA is so small… what is it about you guys that makes you such a target, anyway?”

                “PEA?”

                “Psychology Enthusiast’s Alliance.”

                “You’re calling it PEA??”

                “Answer the question.”

                Once he actually considers the question, an offended, sour expression overtakes his face. He sits up. “What do you mean target?”

                I roll my eyes. “Oh, you know what I mean, it’s obvious! Why else would you all be going missing at once? You’re nothing special!”

                “Dart,” Rose’s voice penetrates my mind. “Careful of thy tongue.”

                Xander blinks. He straightens up a little more. But I’m in the zone.

                “You keep playing dumb, but I don’t buy it. I know you know something’s wrong here, Xander! My brother and your whole alliance up and vanished without a trace! So who are you protecting?!”

                He looks between Rose and me. He puts up his hands placatingly. “I—”

                “Yourself?” I lean in, cornering him. “Because that’s reeeal heroic of you.”

                “Dart…”

                “W-wait!” Xander exclaims, finally overwhelmed. I figured that’d happen. I’ve been told I have an overwhelming presence.

                He sighs, shrinking in defeat and fidgeting as he looks guiltily back at us. “Okay. I admit I haven’t been very open. But Dart, I didn’t realize…”

                He pushes up his glasses and cautiously continues. “You’re psychic, aren’t you? Both of you?”

                I recoil like I’ve been shocked. How did he know? Without me telling him? Is this what it always feels like when someone finds out when you didn’t want them to? Being zapped?

                I don’t get anything out before he keeps going, a crooked smile on his face: “Y-you might want to consider being a little more subtle with telepathic communication.”

                I swallow hard. “What… what does that…”

                “Look,” Xander sighs. “The truth is… ‘PEA’ isn’t a psychology discussion group. I mean, not primarily. It’s… it was supposed to be…”

                He smiles again. “A support group! For psychics living in Shakestone!”

                “A support group…?” Rose murmurs, finally speaking, and echoing my own thoughts. I didn’t know psychic support groups even existed.

                “It can be hard out there when you’re like us! Even somewhere like Shakestone.” He hugs his arms. “S-so that’s why I started the alliance. So that maybe together… we could be something stronger.”

                There’s a beat of silence before he grimly laughs. “Well, clearly I got kinda ambitious, right? Haha…”

                I slip my hands into my pockets, taking in that info drop. Maybe that would make them targets, but who in this town would hate psychics enough to kidnap them? Or… worse? The biggest psychic-hater I’ve met is Bolen, and he’s just some snotnosed kid like me. Are there really people like that here? The more I think about it, the less plausible it seems.

                “Mr. Schmittlot… truthfully. What happened to them, thinkest thee?” Rose asks, wringing her hands. He’s gotta wanna work with us now.

                “I don’t know. Really,” he says, the clearest his voice has been the whole time. “I have no clue where they could be. Or how they’re doing.” But then he’s right back to squirming, avoiding eye contact. “I’d tell you if I did! Heck, I’d tell the police! They’re already trying so hard to find them…”

                I know that ain’t true. He must too. “No… enemies or anything like that?”

                After a pause in which he studies Rose and I, he answers, “Not that I know of.”

                My fingers tap against the table. Maybe there’s not something here. Maybe he really doesn’t know crap. Rose’s brow is furrowed and she studies the floor. I figure she’s realizing bringing me along wasn’t actually gonna solve anything.

                “Dart, listen I’m… um, really sorry. About Angus,” Xander hurries out in the silence. “I’m worried too. Wh-when you called I didn’t know it was that serious!”

                Uh-huh.

                “But he’s not psychic! Whatever’s happening to my… friends… there’s no way it concerns him, right? He’ll turn up! You shouldn’t make this your responsibility. You’ll… w-we’ll get him back.”

                Suddenly, Rose straightens up, her eyes wide. And she asks Xander a question.

                “Save Angus, everyone who’s disappeared is psychic?”

                Xander chuckles nervously. “W-well… yeah! It’d be weird if they weren’t, right?”

                Then Rose says, “Fare thee well.”

                And she turns on her heel and heads for the door.

                “Um.”

                “Uh, Rose?” I watch her goes, arms hanging dumbly at my sides. Nope, she is outta here. “Hey, Rose!”

                “Bye?” Xander tilts his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

                The door shuts behind her.

 

                I burst out onto the street and scan for Rose, only to see her several yards away, hurrying toward her bike.

                “Ugh… hey, moon girl! Valdis!” I run to catch up. “Where’re ya going?”

                “Fool, me!” She says as I approach. “T’was beneath my nose all along. Most of my nights have been consumed by this case. I thinkest mine overwhelm to be born of mine own mind’s curiosity?” She whirls on me. “Tis not my mind delivering me dreams about the lost souls. Tis theirs!”

                “Theirs…?”

                “Each psychic, Dart! Each separated from their kin and lives.” Excited- very excited, which’d be a treat if I wasn’t so befuddled- she grabs my shoulders. “T’would maketh only sense to reach out to the nearest empath!”

                “Wait.” I freeze up. “Empath?”

                Once again, I can almost feel that attention curling its tendrils around my mind again, but when Rose releases me, they retreat back.

                Rose isn’t a mind-reader. At least, that’s not her specialty. She’s a feelings-reader. That’s what I’ve been feeling whenever she gets close…

                Have I been feeling anything weird around her? I know I’ve been good at shutting her out, but crap, I thought I was worried about mind reading. The idea of someone having a direct line to the idiot things I feel all the time is much worse.

                “We needeth more evidence, and this be it! They actively call out for help! How fascinating! How exciting! How wonderful!”

                She runs to her bike and clumsily climbs on. “They mean to help us find them!”

                I run up and grab her arm because I’m actually convinced she’d ride off without me. “Okay, okay, sure, but where are you actually going?”

                “To sleep. To await another vision.” As she speaks, she looks blankly down at my hand on her arm, so I awkwardly let go. “Surely if one cometh to me from one of them, I must be able to slip through yon connection into their mind and speak with them directly!”

                My shoulders slump. “But you said… ‘most’ of your nights just now. What if… you don’t get a vision…?”

                She pauses. Nope, she definitely hadn’t considered that. But simple as anything, she says, “Then I await mine next sleep to await mine next vision. Adios!”

                She puts a foot on the high pedal, ready to push off. I grab her again. No, no, no, I don’t even care if she’s adios-ing me right now, I’m used to it, this is a dumb plan.

                “Alright, no. No. We can’t rely on that. You’re saying you can get into one of their heads if they happen to be reaching out to you psychically again?”

                I realize that’s how I got into Rose’s mind last night. But the dark place in between…? Not sure yet. I’ll get back to you.

                “Is there some way to just… induce that?” I shrug. “Enter one of their minds without like, waiting to fall asleep and hoping you catch a vision?”

                She frowns, tip-toes touching the ground again. “Nay. Well, ay. Technical-wise. But we have not the equipment nor concoction necessary.”

                “Okay…?”

                “T’would require access to a specially calibrated brain tumbler!”

                Dunno what that is.

                “Or, paired with clever trickery, a professional’s Psychoportal…”

                Dunno what that is.

                Her head lolls back, heavy with disappointment. “Or- blast!- if only we had even a common flask of Bravo Cola.”

                Dunno what…

                … oh god I know what that is.

                “Wait, Bravo Cola?” I blurt out. “Why? Why that? Why’d you say that? Why would we need that?”

                Rose brightens up, excited to exposit about something. “Bravo Cola was a soft drink t’was in circulation one decade ago.”

                “A decade ago?”

                “But! T’was recalled! And recalled it was for it brought forth an unseen side effect.” Her smile becomes almost clandestine. “It caused young psychics to astral project.”

                “You are kidding me.”

                “Nay! T’would prove most useful in our predicament.” She raises a knuckle to her mouth thoughtfully. My mouth hangs open as she goes on. You’re gettin’ this, right? “Yes… if we could project into our own mental worlds, unimpeded by fleeting dreams, we would surely both find a way through within, if they still reacheth out to me for help.”

                Okay but the soda though. The soda? The DRUG SODA? THAT KIDS DRANK?

                “… What was IN THAT STUFF?”

                “Unfortunately, it exists- of course- on no store shelf today. If any still graces the earth, I would not begin to know where it may be.”

                I heave a deep, heavy sigh. The shock leaves me as I come to accept that it’s just gonna be one of those nights. I’ve never had “those nights” before. But I feel like I’m gonna start.

                “I know where it is.”

                Rose straightens up, eyes wide. “In truth? Wh-where is it?”

                “It’s in my fridge.”

 

                Maybe I should stick this back in the fridge to keep it cold. Or pretend it doesn’t exist.

                Bravo Cola. The dark purple fizz-drink sparkles inside the thick-glassed bottle as I stare down at it. It’s drug soda. I don’t care if there’s nothing remotely suspicious listed in the ingredients. It makes psychics astral project when they drink it. It’s drugs. … Maybe it’s the lavender.

                I sit on the arm of the couch, biding my time before Rose gets here.

                We’d ended up splitting up, agreeing to meet back here, and she’d ridden back to her house to get some stuff.

                … Sleep stuff. If that isn’t clear. So that’s happening. It makes sense though. It’s already dark out, and it probably wouldn’t be best for Rose to head home in the middle of the night. Which is when I assume we will regain consciousness after drinking this stuff. And who knows what else it does to your brain.

                Why did Angus have this?

                He’s always been good at finding stuff that should be impossible to find. But he’s always had his reasons. Getting me candy that’s banned here. Watching a movie that never came out in this country. Getting his hands on a game that’d gone out of production. But this…? I can’t help but think it has something to do with the case.

                “Just what were you doing…?”

                There’s a knock at the front door. I jump, gasping, and the slippery bottle nearly drops to the wood floor.

                With a sputtery sigh, I put it down on the couch and run to the door. I already know before I open it that it’s Rose.

                She stands in the doorway with anglers in her hair, and a (slightly bigger than usual) smile creasing her big eyes as I appear. There’s a small bag in her arms, and her bike is locked up in the yard.

                “Greetings, D’artagnan. I hope thee accept my locking my bicycle in thine yard. I usually keep it in my bedroom!”

                “In your… bedroom?” I pull a face. “Ya keep your bike where you sleep?”

                Ignoring my incredulity, she says, “Elsewise, I am ready for the sleepover!”

                I squint. “The mental excursion, yes. We’d better be professional about this.”

                As I speak, Rose spots something behind me and tilts her head to peer at it. I turn to follow her gaze. Oh, she must be looking at…

                “Thou hast fabricated thee a fortress of cloth.”

                There in my dim living room, sloppily propped up by two dining chairs and the couch, is a tent made out of several old sheets. Beneath it is a throw blanket, a couple pillows, and a stupid toy lantern with a face. Oh, yeah. I forgot that was there.

                “Well I got bored waiting for you,” I calmly explain. “And obviously I had to build a blanket fort since we’re going to be astral projecting and we should at least be comfortab—ignore the fortress of cloth,” I impatiently cut myself off, sternly pointing at the fort. “And then get in it.”

                Grinning, she steps inside. She seems almost wonderstruck as she looks around. I dunno why, I’m sure I have the most boring house in Nowata.

                “Very well! But ‘fore we begin, I must change into my pajamas as thou hast. May I use thy washroom?”

                I cross my arms. “Yeah, s’upstairs.”

                “A real sleepover! This will be so much fun!” She chirps, and is across the room and bounding up the stairs in the next moment. I watch her go.

                “I feel like I’m taking this more seriously than you are,” I call out after her.

 

                A minute later, as I’m huddled in the fort, staring into space, Rose startles me by flumping down beside me in another long, old nightgown.

                                [o]

                “Okay!” She adjusts her anglers. “Have thee the Bravo Cola?”

                “The drug soda?” I raise a brow. “It’s right here.”

                Rose rolls her eyes and blows a raspberry, which is a new look for Rose. I’d like it more if I wasn’t so bent outta shape about this whole drug soda thing. “D’artagnan Talwar, tis not drug soda!”

                “It forces astral projection.”

                “Only in psychics!”

                “Anyway, I dunno how strong this stuff is so I figured we’d only need the one bottle.”

                I swallow nervously, staring down at the sealed soda on the blanket.

                “… D’you wanna go first, or should I?”

                “I will gladly be the first to venture forth! … But can you open it?”

                “Can do,” I respond, hand already twisting the cap off.

                And then unnecessarily flipping it straight into the air and reaching out to catch it again. Despite everything, I’m eager to add the cap to this weird soda to my…

                As I catch the falling cap, I realize Rose has done the same thing. We silently blink at each other for a second, equally confused.

                She quizzically tilts her head, releasing it.

                “Oh, sorry. I kinda… collect bottle caps?” Bro, it’s CRAZY how quickly I regret saying the words I just said. Great, she’s gonna think I’m such a…

                “As do I…!” Rose’s blinks in wonder.

                I freeze. Huh. I figured collecting something like bottle caps was something only dumb boys without prospects or social lives did, but if Rose does it too… I guess it’s not… that bad?

                I toss the cap her way. “Well, you can take this one, then. I’ll get the next one.”

                Rose grins, raising a brow. “The next one? Whenever would that be?”

                Whoops. “… Just drink the soda, Valdis.”

                So she drinks the soda. And as she does, she winces.

                After she downs about half of it- not much since the bottles are so small, but still- I meekly reach toward her, my voice cracking as I ask, “That’s gotta be enough, right?”

                She lowers it again, grimacing and shaking her head.

                “Must be an acquired taste…” she murmurs, a mix of disgusted and I think dizzy.

                “Ah! Much like Stockholm Syndrome!” I cheer, taking the bottle from her. I smirk grimly at it as Rose touches her hand to her forehead. “Maybe it got recalled ‘cause it tastes so bad.”

                In the next second, Rose slumps over against me, a dead weight on my arm.

                “R-Rose?!” I stammer, clutching her shoulder.

                Her eyes are closed, her hands limp in her lap. I snap my fingers in front of her face.

                Just then, a blue glow starts to emanate from Rose’s head. Indiscernible symbols fade in and out before my eyes, seeming to be more heavily concentrated around hers.

                Yeah, that seems fine.

                It doesn’t, obviously, but it makes me feel better to pretend it does. Is that what people do when they astral project? Pass out and glow from the head? I wish Rose had told me before she passed out and glowed from the head.

                I squint at the half-empty soda between my thumb and forefinger as if that’d help me determine if it’s safe. But I sigh. It’s no use, is it? This really is just gonna be one of those nights. Sooo… screw it.

                I knock back the rest of the soda.

                At first, I dunno what Rose is talking about. It tastes like every other gross soda I’ve had in my life. And I’ve had a lot of gross soda. In fact, something inside makes me feel driven to finish it.

                But once I do, it hits me. It’s a wave of… not nausea. Nausea is the wrong word for it, because I don’t feel sick. I feel like I’m floating. The bottle drops out of my hands and I look down at my palms. It don’t feel connected to them. And the living room; I know I’m sitting in it, but… it doesn’t feel like I’m there anymore. It’s dizzying.

                I put my palm to my forehead, groaning. See, this is what I’m talking about. I told her it was drug—!

                So…

                Da…

                My hand drops into my lap.

                And it’s fast. ‘Cause that’s the last thing I remember doing before my consciousness leaves the blanket fort in the living room behind… and folds in on itself.

Notes:

PEA acronym dedicated to my good friend robin nightmares

chapter four art: https://imgur.com/a/QWl6WYN

Chapter 5: Broken Puzzles

Notes:

hey, jsyk, i ALSO haven't finished the illustrations for this one either. i have absolutely no buffer for these drawings, so it's easy to not do them around all my other machinations and i definitely don't want to push myself for unnecessary bonus content. but they'll be there! i plan at least two for every chapter.

FILE: TALWAR, D. MEMORY ACCOUNT 0005

 

                When I come to, it’s noticing the cold stone floor under my bum.

                I automatically take a deep, even breath before I even open my eyes. I’m sitting in a lotus position, my palms facing loosely upward on my knees. I raise a brow. I definitely wasn’t sitting like this before I went in.

                I slowly rise to my feet- right into a current of rushing air. I’m in a small chamber-looking place with round, open walls. A short wall comes up to about my chest, but beyond that crumbling pillars hold up the ceiling, and wind is roaring in and out from the bright blue sky outside.

                I approach the gap between two pillars, peeping out. What I see makes my stomach drop and my fingers clutch the wall. A jagged, rocky cliff, and a several-hundred foot drop into an endless sea of clouds.

                I back away, shuddering. “Yeesh.”

                This is it. I’m inside of my own mind.

                I head out of the little room, ‘cause apart from the sickening drop, a few interesting engravings in the walls and- wires…?- sticking out of a few cracks like weeds, there’s not much to see here.

                I head down a short hallway that opens into a much larger chamber. But before I can even do an ocular pat-down, in a flash, something literally jumps out at me. I yelp and leap back, throwing my arms up to shield myself.

                It’s…!

                … Another little man.

                Sort of like those ones I saw in the distance in Rose’s mind, except this one isn’t wearing a space helmet. Up close, as he looks me up and down, I notice his suit and tie and big red stamp of a “NO” symbol.

                “Yup,” he says, despite what the stamp may suggest.

                Uneasy, I nod back. “Uh… yup.”

                Then he gets sick of me and hurries off to intensely study the walls.

                I do that too, honestly. This room’s built like the last one, but it’s a way bigger production. The ceiling is higher, and intricately carved into it are statues of dragons and weird-looking three-eyed people, along with patterns of concentric circles that’re kinda dizzying to look at. It’s… neat stuff, actually. I like it.

                Shame it’d be much easier to admire if the room wasn’t also filled with steaming pipes, strange, seemingly pointless machines, holes in the floor leading to god-knows-where-else, and dozens of TV screens and radios jutting out of the walls, ceiling and floor.

                They’re all playing a disparity of channels and stations- ads, dumb cartoons, horror movies- and I can barely make anything out.

                That just brings down the curve. Why is all this crap here?

                Whatever. No huge loss. Gotta stay on task. I need to be looking for a way to reach whatever psychic has been reaching out. God I hope there’s actually a way through in here.

                I wander to the crumbling pillared wall to peer out. I didn’t get a good look from the first room, but… it looked like something was out there.

                … I wish I hadn’t looked.

                “This place is busted,” I whisper in disbelief.

                The place I’m standing in right now, built into the sides of steep, grassy cliffs over the sea of clouds, is a massive, ancient-looking (but I know it can’t be over eleven years old) temple.

                Intricate geometric shapes form the rooves of dozens of buildings on magically floating islands. Wooden, stone, and I think cloud bridges connect them all haphazardly.

                As well as leaking pipes. And long cables.

                Chimneys break through temple rooves like weeds, black smoke billowing out. Whole walls are swallowed by arrays of turning gears, but I don’t know what for. A flatscreen TV hangs out of the branches of a tree, flashing vibrant colors and the words “LOOK OVER HERE.” (I get mad that I looked.) On an otherwise chill-looking outcropping, a giant stereo is I think blasting the same one verse of a rock song over and over again.

                There’s literally a whole staircase covered up by a giant neon sign of a pair of crossed, high-heeled legs. Gross. Gross-gross-gross. I don’t even like that kinda thing. Why is that even there? This is completely useless.

                A hundred feet down, on a floating courtyard, sits a fountain with an eastern-looking dragon statue in the center of it. Or maybe it’s a weasel. This statue looks antique. It also looks like it has thick electrical cables sticking into two of its three eyes. I quietly sigh.

                I can almost make out what this place would look like without all this useless crap embedded in it. But not quite. … Why does thinking about this make me feel so bad?

                “What happened here?” I mutter. “How could this’ve happened to a place like this?”

                “Eh, nothing happened! S’always been this way!”

                I flinch as another voice calls out from behind me. The heck? I didn’t even see anyone else! I whirl, scanning the room for another tiny man.

                And… well, I don’t see another tiny man. But I see a tiny woman.

                … On a TV screen. Talking to me.

                “Might as well have some fun with it!”

                I stare back at the screen for probably too long. The woman onscreen is flashily dressed, with pink, high pigtails, against an equally distracting background. Looks like some kinda exercise show?

                “A-are you…?”

                “Talkin’ to you?” She flips her hair. “Yep! Hey, isn’t this kinda like that scene in that movie you like?”

                “Oh, yeah! The part with the diner and—!” Hold up, gotta stay on task. “Uh—actually… d’you think you can help me?”

                “Deffo. Without a doubt.”

                “I’m looking for… well, I guess a way out?” I shrug. There’s a staircase on the far end of the room, but it just leads to more temple I think. “There’s supposed to be a psychic reaching out for help right now, and I think- I hope- I can get to them through here. Have ya seen anything like that?”

                Before she can respond, tiny motors whirring and metal click-clacking against stone interrupts us.

                “Uh. O-oh,” I stammer as a radio on tall, spindly metal legs approaches. As it does, the TV with the lady on it pulls its own spider legs out of the wall and climbs down to the floor to come closer too.

                And they’re not the only ones. As I look around, I realize… every character on every TV in this room is sentient. And looking at me.

                “You must be looking for something new,” the radio says in a deep, soothing voice through static. “You’re gonna be lookin’ at some congested traffic around that area, but the newest, hottest, freshest thing around here is a door.”

                And then, like it’s solved all my problems, the radio plays I guess its station’s victory music: “FM Eighty-Siiix!”

                I squint. This is… bizarre. “Well, I’m sure there’re a lotta doors in here, so could ya be more specific? I’m actually meeting up with someone and I don’t wanna keep her waiting.”

                “Ooh, lookit this guy!” The exercise girl snorts. “Meeting up with someone!”

                “Eh?”

                “No, no, go ‘head, braggaboudit!”

                I’m… what? “I’m not—bragging, I literally just—”

                On another TV screen, a weird old dude sits onstage on what looks to be a trash tabloid talk-show, and he pipes up too.

                “Well, I can’t blame ‘im, can you, folks? It’s definitely been a while since that happened! You know, with anyone who isn’t Angus or Mom.”

                I click my tongue against my teeth. “I mean it’s like an emotionally void fact. I’m meeting…”

                “Could it be this pretty little lady?!”

                Behind him, the big screen onstage changes into an image of a person and the off-screen studio audience gasps, excited. But the TV is so small I can barely make it out until I step closer. I don’t even know who—oh god it’s Rose Valdis.

                Wh-why’d he have to say—!

                “N-no. No.” I wave my arms, squeezing my eyes shut. “That’s… that’s not…”

                “Not her, huh?” The talk show dude says, squinting.

                “No, I-I take issue with the pretty thing.”

                “Wow, Dart,” Exercise Girl drones, unimpressed. “You don’t think Rose is pretty?”

                “That is NOT what I—!”

                “Well, who else could it have been?”

                I pinch the bridge of my nose. “God. This conversation is so stupid. I’m gonna have an aneurysm. You know I’m meeting up with—”

                “There were these two.”

                I look up. Two more people are on the screen now. From this close, I know who they are immediately.

                My old school friends. Arc and Ella.

                I glare in silence. Just put Rose back on the screen.

                “But none of us can understand why you stopped hanging out with them. Why’d you push them away?”

                I stammer. “Push—pushed them—?”

                “Certainly, you should’ve kept them around at least to copy off of! Isn’t that why you flunked?” (‘Ooooh.’)

                A snarl twists my expression. “I flunked because I’m—! I didn’t push them away! They pushed me away! They clearly got sick of me, so I took the hint!”

                I’m met with silence from the crowd. This is ridiculous. I’m just talking to myself. I roll my eyes and spin around, heading for the stairs.

                “Ugh, this is not the point. Where’s the door?”

                This place is such the worst. My footsteps echo through the stairwell as I descend into the dark and to my annoyance, the skin-crawling robotic clicking of my entourage follows me. What do they want?

                “If you’re not gonna be useful, don’t bother,” I call back.

                I go farther and farther down the winding stairs. There are tunnels to chambers and floors in the walls here, but they seem totally useless. Filled with broken stuff or obnoxiously loud arcade cabinets.

                And walls. Several times, just as it looks like the stairs are straightening out, they hit a solid wall where a doorway clearly once was- or at least should be, but for reasons I can’t grasp, is bricked up. So I’m forced to take pointless, out of the way detours. This goes on for some time.

                But every floor I descend, the more followers I seem  to pick up.

                “Angus!”

                Huh?! I flinch and whirl around.

                “Angus! Hey, Angus! Wait for me!” A tiny, spider-like radio says in a high-pitched little kid’s voice as it hops down the stairs after me.

                I roll my eyes and immediately continue down the stairs.

                “Angus!”

                “You must be lost, buddy. I’m not Angus. I’m Dart.”

                I think I’ve finally reached the bottom of the stairs. In front of me is the doorway to a big, dark chamber- dark even though it’s surrounded by open walls like before. I must be below the clouds now. Anyway, there ain’t much to miss because it’s a great big dump in here- filled with broken down machines and shattered neon lights and etcetera. Whatever.

                Doesn’t matter. On the opposite end of the room, across the sea of metal, is a wooden door. It’s the first actual door- y’know, with hinges- that I’ve seen, and I’m just getting a… feeling from it. I think it’s the one.

                But before I can even step into the dump, the spider-radio leaps out before me, blocking my path.

                “Okay, Angus! I just wantedtosaythatyou’rereallycoolandIwishIwasascoolasyouandthat’sanawesomehatandIloveyouand—!”

                “Wha- can you-” I stammer, trying to sidestep it as it excitedly spiders back and forth. “Can you get outta the way, please??”

                “Okay!” It cheers before zipping up the wall and onto the ceiling.

                I shake my head, continue into the room, and start trudging through the broken machines heading for the door. Tetanus doesn’t matter. This is a mental world.

                What does matter is the second I’m slowed down, the crowd catches up with me.

                “Hey, there you are!”

                “Oh god,” I sigh.

                They all followed me down here. And they all want my attention.

                “Wait, forget about the door!” One of them shouts. “I need you to fix something!”

“Hey, I have an idea!”

“Hey, listen to me first, Dart!”

                “Okay.” I shove my fingers in my ears. “Thaaat’s enough.”

“C’mooon, you’ll just slow her down. Let’s do something we’re good at!”

                “Dart I swear this is important it’ll just take a second.”

                Yeah this is useless I can still hear them.

                “That’s not the door! You’ll never find it, buddy. Why not take a break?”

                And they just keep going. The more I try to ignore it, the worse it gets. Their jabbering swarms my head like the whispers in class yesterday. This is a familiar feeling, but in here, it’s ten times worse. I need outta here.

                “That’s ENOUGH—” I snap before a TV’s metal limb wraps itself around my forearm and yanks it hard, pulling my hand away from my ear and almost knocking me down. “Ow! Hey!”

                “Just pay attention to me!”

                I’m at my limit. I’ve had enough.

                Balling up my fists and spinning to face the whole obnoxious crowd, I shout, “Would you leave me alone so I can get the HECK OUT OF HERE?!”

                Silence. They all stop moving toward me, and a few even back away. Some screens up and shut off. I catch my breath.

                See, that’s what I wanted. That’s all I wanted, so why’d it take that much?

                I’m exhausted. And leaving.

                As I head toward the door, that crawling radio approaches me cautiously.

                I punt it into the wall as hard as I can.

 

                And before they can even think about swarming me again, I’m through the door and slamming it so hard it doesn’t splinter.

                I never. EVER. Wanna go back through there.

                “Buncha crazies!” I shout through the door.

                With a low growl, I back up, spinning around to storm away—

                And I step in it.

                Not sure what it is at first, but the first thing of note is that I’m sinking into it. I gasp, reflexively pulling my knees up as I find them in a long trench of like… jet black jello. Or tar. But that only speeds it up.

                I whip my head around, scanning my surroundings. The jello trench is cut straight down the middle of the long, rainbow-bricked alley I just came out in. Luckily, that means dry land.

                As I sink, I reach out and grab onto the concrete edge of the black death pool I’m in and pull hard, yanking myself out as it clings to me and rolling onto my back on the solid ground.

                “Why,” I breathe.

                The walls of the alley tower around me. They stretch a few yards beyond the door, opening up to a much larger area; too bright to see from the shade. I get up, wiping the black gunk off my shorts. Weird. It looks like it should smell rancid, but it has no scent at all.

                I make my way down the alley, hugging the wall to steer clear of the trench. I don’t wanna know how deep that stuff goes. I was only in it for a second, but I didn’t feel any kind of bottom under my feet.

                As I reach the end of the alley, grass sprouting up between the broken bricks underfoot gives me a little hope about this place not being a big gunk heap.

                And about this place…

                Well, you guys know what it’d look like, right?

                I step out and I’m greeted by a wide open bowl of a world. A huge round valley that drops into an endless abyss at its edges. I guess there are a lot of abysses in the astral plane.

                But above the abyss and under the twisting, multi-colored sky, the world there almost makes me go, “Y’know, maybe my mind wasn’t that bad!”

                Scattering the bowl valley are gray and rainbow walls and staircases and elevator shafts built pointlessly, leading to nothing or physically splicing into one another. At the edge of the world is a huge roofed structure, and it’s dark inside, but I think it houses a wide, empty market. On the other end of the world sits a rainbow-colored lighthouse, overgrown with trees and vines, and the beacon on top spinning rapidly.

                In fact, lots of things in this place are overgrown by nature. There’re lots of spots of unaffected trees and meadows around the world. They’re the only spots that don’t feel… off.

                And… hanging down out of the red, green and blue striped sky, over the center of the valley, is a massive round black disc. Three bright lights shine down from it.

                You know the disc I’m talking about. It’s that one.

                Pools of the black jello I stepped in stand out in a few places, breaking up the already-disjointed flow of the world. From afar, they almost look like burnt out spots on film. That stuff already gives me a bad feeling.

                Just as I’m wondering how the heck I’m gonna find the owner of this place, my visual sweep finally lands on a small figure twenty feet away on the same hill I’m on, looking out over the world too.

                Imagine my relief when I discover it’s someone I actually want to talk to.

                “Rose!”

                Whoops. She jumps, startled, as I shout, her anglers jostling in her hair. But when she spins to face me, the surprise is replaced with that same old smile.

                “Dart!”

                I run toward her.

                “Sorry,” I huff, skidding to a stop before her. “If you waited long. You wouldn’t believe the time I had getting here.”

                “Not to worry, friend, for I too just arrive. I found myself transfixed by the sight of this realm the moment I entered.” She looks out over the valley in wonder. “Oh, isn’t it incredible?”

                “Incredible is not the word I’d use…” I scratch my head. “… Not sure what I would use, though.”

                “Ay, tis an abomination. How lovely!” Rose replies, beaming from ear to ear. “We venture into strange territory, D’artagnan.”

                As I squint unsurely back at her, her fists ball up in determination. “Now, let us solve us a mystery!”

 

                And so, we descend into the valley to solve us a mystery. Compared to the temple, this place is dead quiet. But… the silence here feels wrong.

                Rose and I turn the corner of a big, gray, utterly pointless wall, and I stop when I see, downhill from where we stand, two giant structures in a closed-off courtyard.

                I almost think they’re some kinda big parking garages at first. But… there’s an enormous shape lying inside one of them. Obscured by the darkness; big, round, secured to the ground by several ropes. Unmoving.

                Above each “garage” gate is a sign and I dunno what I expected them to say.

                But they say “CHICKEN,” and “OSTRICH” respectively.

                The Chicken garage is empty.

                Between the signs, the ropes, and the two round shapes connected by a thin rod and the hint of a pointed beak on one end, it clicks what the thing inside the garage is.

                Rose hums. “A parade balloon.”

                “Yeah! But… where’s the chicken one? And why is this one here, anyway?”

                Minds are supposed to follow, right? I know I’ve only been in the three (four) so far; mine, Rose’s, and this, (and the other one.) but mine and Rose’s made sense. I hated mine, but it made sense. A pile of worthless bullcrap I let build up keeping me from doing my job and ruining a perfectly good… uh, mountain place? And Rose’s; a comfortable old house and a scientific outpost trying to terraform a place way more interesting than Earth. Right? I’m new to the whole Rose thing, but it fits. Wouldn’t mind going back.

                But all this… just seems like a menagerie of mix-and-match strangely-shaped fungal outbreaks. Or like a big, broken amusement park built by someone with no plans, no sanity, and no end-goal in mind but to smash various disparate things together. An empty gray market, an overgrown useless lighthouse, big parade balloon storage garages… I feel like we should be able to figure out a mental world pretty easily, but now it’s like this, and we can’t.

                “It’s like it’s full of… broken puzzles,” I murmur.

                Rose turns to me thoughtfully. “Many things here follow not the last.”

                “Yeah. I at least have an idea why mine looks like it does.”

                Rose tilts her head. I can almost hear her asking me to go on.

                But I really don’t wanna go down that road right now. “I mean, s-somehow… don’t you get the feeling it’s not supposed to be like this?”

                “Yes. I do. … Though at least it is peaceful. T’would not be, I feared.”

                She continues, past the occupied and empty garages, hands linked behind her. I pick up the pace to walk beside her as she speaks.

                “My mind lends itself not to great chaos. Circumstances uncontrollable. It has, ere…” She thinks about what word to use, seeming a little uncomfortable. “Retreated. In the face of such things.”

                Chaos. Uncontrollable. Why do these words sound familiar?

                I laugh nervously. “Boy, I must be pretty annoying, then.”

                She just smiles back, eyes squinting up. “You are not so unforetold.”

                I blink. That might be her saying I’m boring, but I just feel relieved. “Oh. Well, good.”

                Quiet. Giving a smooth-surfaced pool of black tar a wide berth, we leave the broken stone ground by the garages and head onto a dirt path through a field of tall grass and flowers.

                I wrap my hat around my hand and try to push down a feeling that’s rising in me. I don’t even know why it’s there (I always have pointless thoughts, but I don’t usually question my feelings) and- right now, at least- I don’t even know what it is. Just a strange feeling in my stomach I can’t pin down yet.

                But right now…

                Rose jumps, staring in wonder as a little stamp-man darts through the grass across the field, chasing something. (She murmurs, “Censor.” Is that what that is?)

                Right now, I’m a little self-conscious about it.

                I clear my throat. “Hey, Rose…?”

                “Hm?”

                “You said earlier… that you were an empath.”

                She grins. “Mmhm.” Her whole face lights up. Again, she looks so excited to share this kind of information. Rose is the only psychic kid I know. It makes me wonder if I’m the only psychic kid she knows.

                “Feeling other people’s feelings. Is that something… you have to focus on doing?”

                She hums thoughtfully, ducking under a low tree. The trees leaves are made of wanted posters for dandelions. “Nay, not typically. My empathic power is… passive, mostsome.” Mostsome. She made up that word. “If someone feels or experiences something very strong, irrepressible, I cannot help but feel it too. Of late, I have slept not much with the disorientation and fear sent out by these missing psychics.”

                She hasn’t been sleeping? I swallow. Rose told me this whole thing was ‘consuming’ her. Giving her no respite.

                I didn’t realize how literal she was being.

                I want to ask what those visions she’s been having are like, and as my eyes flicker around in thought, something halts me in my tracks.

                What the hell is that. I mean I know what it is but why is it here.

                “Although, physical contact does make it easier to feel more hidden emotions—” I interrupt Rose’s expositing with a hand on her shoulder. Because seriously…

                “Deer.”

                She swings her head toward me. “Hmm??”

                I point. There, ten feet ahead, standing and staring straight back, is a slim white-tailed deer.

                Its ear twitches.

                The three of us stand in a weird, baffled standoff for way too long. Don’t these things usually run away when they see people? This one isn’t. It’s just looking at us. How long has it been there?

                “Salutations!” Rose calls out, startling me.

                Me. Not it.

                That baffles me further. This thing being here is weird alone. We haven’t seen a sign of life that wasn’t the- censors, was it?- and it just showed up outta nowhere. But that it doesn’t spook and buy a ticket to Pluto when a human shouts at it…

                Narrowing my eyes, I slowly walk toward it.

                Once I do, it perks up and turns to bolt. Yeah, I thought so.

                It bounds away up a dirt path before pausing at the top of a hill. I expect it to disappear over the top, but it doesn’t. And then it turns to look back at us.

                Expectantly.

                Rose gasps deeply, realizing it before I do. She grabs my arm.

                “Yon forest beast wishest us to follow,” she whispers.

                “Wait, what?”

                “Mayhaps it could lead us to a clue!”

                I raise a brow at the patient deer, gears turning. “Or to whoever’s mind this is?”

                “Surely! Merveilleuse!” Rose bounces in place before she grows weary of waiting and declares, “Follow that deer!”

                She’s off like a rocket.

                “Fuh—f-follow that deer!” I stammer, taking off after her as the deer speeds away at once.

                We follow that deer.

Notes:

chapter five and six were originally just one chapter five, but it got way too long so i had to split it in two! this is one of a few of what i see as two-parters in this fic, even though it's all just one big continuous story? anyway, i am extremely excited about six. some stuff goes Down. also if it wasn't clear, dart's mind was heavily inspired by the northern air temple.

Chapter 6: Missing People

FILE: TALWAR, D. MEMORY ACCOUNT 0006

 

                We’re following that deer.

                “Make haste, D’artagnan!”

                “I am making haste!”

                Why’s this thing running so dang fast?

                I leap over two gray steps leading to nothing and duck under a thick net holding a metric ton of star-shaped balloons, desperate to keep the deer in sight. She’s got quite the flight pattern going on.

                At a juncture between two pools of black goo in the ground, she halts, head raised high, and makes a sharp right turn, jetting off again.

                “Does it even know where it’s going?” I huff, skidding around the goop.

                “It seems to search for something itself!”

                Whatever it searches for, it’s leading us toward the market- way more imposing the closer we get. The edge of which is a sheer concrete drop down to a hill that spills down into a flowery meadow, and the deer circles around the outside of it.

                Clearing another pointless colorful wall, a black river with a twisting dirt path through the trees beyond it comes into view. My immediate doubts are confirmed just as immediately by the deer, without hesitation, racing toward the river and leaping straight across.

                “The heck?! I can’t make that!”

                Rose grins back at me. “Surely thou canst! Thou must double-jump!”

                I sputter, skidding to a stop at the bank. “But I don’t even know how to double-ju—!”

                Rose, however, doesn’t stop. Rose, right at the goop river’s edge, leaps and sails through the air, nightgown flapping.

                And right when I think she’s going in the drink, there’s a bright flash of blue under her feet. Bright, round, and encircled by a ring like a miniature Saturn beneath her. She kicks off it, flying even further, clearing the opposite shore with ease and landing in the dirt with a grunt as the Saturn vanishes.

                I stand dumbly as she leaps up and races after the deer, disappearing around the bend ahead.

                “You can do it, Dart!” She calls back. “Will it to be!”

                Heading to the top of the hill the market sits on, she disappears too, leaving me behind.

                And I’m… behind. Yeah.

                I know I should be jumping this dumb river right now, but briefly, I’m stunned. I immediately feel like I’ve messed this up, but I haven’t even tried it yet. It just lasts a second, and I shake my head, bewildered. That’s ridiculous, right? I haven’t even tried it yet, I repeat to myself. You can do this.

                With a huff, I nod to myself and back up. I smirk.

                And I sprint toward the river and at the last second, push off the broken bank and leap through the air.

                Will it to happen! You can do this!

                Nothing’s happening. Oh god I definitely can’t do this.

                A foot short of the opposite bank and double-jump-less, I plunge into the river.

                I yelp and windmill my arms frantically, flailing desperately for the bank as I sink into the gunk like it’s quicksand. My kicking legs under the surface find purchase on terra firma- apparently a 90 degree angle wall- and I drag myself up out if it as fast as I can.

                Welp. That was graceful. On second thought, I’m glad nobody was around to see that.

                … I totally got across, though.

 

                I’m relieved when I spot Rose’s nightgown and anglers again. She’s standing at the market’s huge entrance, at the foot of a short, wide staircase. Huffing, I race up the steep path to her.

                The deer isn’t here.

                The gray market yawns before us like a big, haunted parking garage. Dark, empty of life and merchandise, but full of stalls. Stalls that’d probably obscure any relevant woodland creatures that may be among them.

                “Hey. Ya happen to see where it went?” I ask, out of breath.

                Rose shakes her head, befuddled.

                I straighten up, looking to the endless stalls ahead. Alright, losing Deer. Snap decision.

                “Let’s split up. That never went bad for anyone, right?”

                Rose nods. “Ay. Thou venturest into the darkness, and I shall turn mine attention to the illuminated cliffside stalls.”

                Okay Rose you’re great but let’s make it snappy. I start off toward the darkness at the back of the market. “Alright, let’s go.”

                “Find that deer!” Rose declares, racing off, near-perfectly echoing her declaration from before.

                I can’t help but snort and grin as I head the opposite way. Find that deer.

 

                I peer down aisles and duck under stalls, eyes peeled for hooved creatures. What if it’s literally just some deer, I wonder? And it looking like it wanted us to follow was just a coincidence? Boy would we look dumb.

                “And besides,” I mutter to myself. “Why wouldn’t it come back for us? That was kinda rude of it.”

                Empty green bottles lie in any of the stalls that aren’t empty. A lot of them sit precariously above pools of bubbling black. This just can’t be good.

                I approach the back wall. I’m about to declare this place a dud when I see something on the wall I hadn’t before my eyes accustomed to the dark.

                A sea of small flyers, but more eye-catching, high above them, is a banner. A giant banner, a good fifteen feet wide. In colorful block letters, it just says one thing:

                               EVOLUTION IS COMING!

                Evolution.

                Bet you were waiting for that one to come up.

                Uneasy, my eyes drift down to the flyers. I step closer for a better look. Wanted posters. Lots of ‘em. They’re all identical. WANTED in New Wen City. A cash reward for any information.

                And a man’s face. A big, broken nose, slicked-back dark hair, and an expression on his face that shouts ‘bastard.’ And…

                Oh god. Hold it. That broken nose.

                I know this bastard.

                This is—!

                I gasp, my whole body jolting, as my foot suddenly cracks through the floor beneath me like it’s a thin sheet of ice. I yank my foot up out of the ground on reflex, stumbling back.

                Imagine my joy when I see that it came back covered in tar. I flap my leg in disgust, shaking it off.

                “Oh, gimme a break,” I snarl.

                The ground breaks.

                Like glass cracking under pressure, the hole my foot just made sends out a spiderweb of cracks that quickly become more severe, sending one rupture toward me, right between my legs. Tar bubbles up from the hole and it doesn’t look done.

                “No, not like that…” I whine, backing away, right down the narrow aisle of stalls behind me.

                The whole unstable chunk of ground I’m on shifts under me. It and I drop a quarter foot. Okay. Not good. Bad. Time to amscray.

                Scrambling off the broken ground as black oozes up around its edges, I have no choice but to sprint straight down the long aisle toward the bright light at the other end of the market.

                There’s a loud crash behind me as a whole what-was-once-a-fruit-stall topples over, the ground beneath it swallowed up by the eruption. Daylight cracks through the shade of the roof. Meaning it’s coming apart too. Crap, crap, crap, I don’t wanna be here. I feel like all those earthquake drills at school don’t apply in this situation!

                I hear it eating stalls and crushing the concrete ground into huge shards behind me. It’s chasing me down the aisle like I’m in a cattle chute, growing faster and meaner by the second. I tear my eyes off the breaking ground to check it I can actually, y’know, make it.

                And when I do, a figure steps into view from behind the furthest stall at the cliffside, looking out over the mental world.

                Rose.

                Teeth gritted, lungs hurting, I force my feet to pound the ground faster and faster. Now I have to outrun this thing. I’m going to do it, I’ve already done it.

                She turns with a start as the crashing of the rupture reaches her ears. Her eyes are wide and she freezes in shock.

                “VALDIS!” I roar. “BRACE FOR IMPACT!”

                “Wh-what?! Why?!” She cries, instinctively backing up. But not fast enough.

                As the ground crumbles beneath my feet- and hers- I throw myself into her, tacking her straight backward and right over the edge of the market.

                Rose’s shriek pierces the air. The drop to the hill is way more severe than I thought and we are head over heels, freefalling. Oh god this is gonna suck, I’m pressing Rose’s head to my chest to protect it, her arms are tight around me, she stops shrieking, the steep ground is coming up I have no idea what to do and—

                A blue, glowing field of light crackles to life, surrounding us both.

                It slams against the grassy hill and bounces off, jostling us inside. The impact punches the air out of me. Before I can get my bearings, we bounce off the hill again. And then again.

                And, believe it or not, again, and this time the field breaks on impact. We’re at the foot of the hill, but it still separates us and shoots us off into the grass.

                I come tumbling to a stop I deeply appreciate.

                I’m so dizzy my fingers dig into the dirt because I’m worried I’ll keep rolling if I don’t hang on. I’m up to my hands at knees at once, but I flump straight back down. Cold flowers and grass crushed beneath me. I have no choice but to lie still and breathe.

                Rose shifts and groans nearby.

                “M-moon girl? You… y’good? You’re not bleeding, are you?” I groan, finally rising and steadying myself on my hands. “‘Cause if you’re bleeding, I can’t look at you.”

                “No, I’m not bleeding,” she says, so I turn to look at her.

                … And I look at her, and…

                There are flowers stuck in her anglers, sticking out of her collar and littering her lap. She rubs the back of her head, eyes squinted up as she laughs off the pain, and I…

                “Though I may bruise. Not much to weep over within the mind,” she sorta giggles. “Art thou okay?”

                I…

                “You look like a plant grenade hit you,” I blurt out. Yes. What a genius thing to say. Let’s follow that genius up with some more.

                “Uh, thanks for that shield. That was quick thinking.”

                “But of course, she responds, watching me as I stand up. Poking at my psyche. Nope. Definitely not now. “Whatever was that, D’artagnan?”

                Sighing, bracing my hand on my knee, I point up toward where we’d careened off the market.

                “Look for yourself.”

                The… rupture, whatever it was, is still settling. Large and small chunks of the cement ground funnel into the crevice, spilling onto the hill. The eruption of black stopped short of the market’s edge, but the damage is pretty big.

                Right on cue, there’s another rumble.

                Rose and I jump and whirl, looking for its source, just in time to see one of the tallest, thickest trees in a nearby grove shake violently before… sinking. Dropping straight down, like a building being demolished. And even as it does, it cracks apart and black tar starts gushing out from inside it.

                We stand and gape.

                “Thou…” Rose murmurs as the rumbling subsides. “Thou thinkest not…”

                “‘Course I do.”

                Look, I’m not exactly an expert in the psychonautical. But this… whatever’s happening to whoever’s mind this is, it can really only be one thing.

                “This whole mind is coming apart.”

                Another rumble, farther away. This time, too far to even see the damage.

                “It’s coming apart fast.”

                Up in the sky, the black disk’s lights flicker.

                I swallow hard. I really don’t feel welcome here. “We… we really need to find—”

                CLANG.

                I jolt as a loud sound, like hammer against metal, booms behind us. Rose and I spin around, readying ourselves for an attacker in two honestly pretty dumb-looking ways.

                But we relax once we see who it is.

                It’s the deer again. Nonchalant as anything. She’s chewing on a mouthful of flowers. Her back hoof is resting on… um…

                Oh god what even is that thing.

                It looks like a small, four-legged vault, but there’s no way it’s that, considering vaults don’t have fleshy mouths with teeth inside them. Its metal legs sprawl out on the ground as its door hangs wide open, giant disgusting tongue lolling out. It looks dead. Or unconscious. Somehow.

                Something is resting on its tongue.

                As Deer lowers her hoof to the ground and continues chewing her flowers, I calmly ask, “Rose, what is that thing?”

                “It’s a memory vault!”

                “Yeah, I was worried you’d say something like that.” Rose rushes toward the ‘memory vault’ and I stay exactly where I am. No way am I going near that.

                “Something that wasn’t, ‘I don’t know, that is horrific, let’s go away from it.’ … Oh jeez, Rose, don’t touch that!”

                I stare, horrified, as Rose picks up the item from the vault’s tongue. She turns it in her hands, inspecting it. Wait, it’s a… looky thing! One of those things you look into! They have pictures inside!

                … Yeah, stereoscope, thank you! Why was that in there?

                Rose raises the stereoscope to her eyes and tilts her head back, staring into it with a big, doofy grin. She pulls one of the triggers a few times.

                Her smile drops. She pulls the trigger several more times, humming, troubles.

                “What’s… in there…?” I cautiously approach, trying not to sound jazzed about finding out. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not scared of whatever’s in the stereoscope. I’m scared of touching anything from the FLESH VAULT.

                So when Rose looks back, squinting, and tells me, “Thou shouldst look for thyself, methinks,” a part of me dies inside.

                But my infinitely-intense curiosity really wants to know what’s in there, and just this once I think I can overcome my equally-intense carnophobia to take a look.

                Groaning, touching it as little as possible, I take the stereoscope from Rose’s hands.

                And carefully raise it to my eyes.

                Two slides.

                A title card. One word. All lowercase.

                               help

                And an image.

                               A rusted, abandoned white van sat in a forest, its windows broken, its tires flat, and its back doors hanging wide open. It was dark. Nobody was around.

                I gasp, dropping the stereoscope to the ground.

                I know this. I know this image. I’ve seen this in person!

                “Th-that’s… that van!” I stammer, almost too excited to speak. “It’s that creepy van!”

                “This image shines familiar?”

                “Yes!” I whirl on her. This is crazy. This is nuts! This is…! “This is right behind my house!”

                “Wait, what??”

                Okay, well not right behind it, but… I used to play in the woods behind my house all the time, and I always messed around in this specific van back there! I mean, probably shouldn’t’ve because it’s really sketchy, but—!”

                “That must be near where they are!” Rose gasps. “So close!”

                “Yeah!” I cheer, and then it hits me. They’re near my house. Whatever messed up thing is going on, (and I have a very active imagination and am trying real hard not to get into the details) it’s practically in my backyard. That’s too close.

                “Y… yeah…”

                “Wondrous! Surely, tis what this mind’s owner wished us to see!” She turns to gesture at the deer. “And lead us they did with yon deer…!”

                Deer’s gone.

                “Well,” I hum. “Guess that’s our cue to leave, too. Uh…”

                Uh.

                “… How exactly d’we get outta this place, again?”

                Rose blinks. She’s silent for a troubling amount of time.

                “Oh. Um,” she begins, which is the last thing I wanted to hear. “Hmm…”

                “Rose.”

                “Hmmmmm…”

                “Rose.”

                “Well!” She declares, hands on hips, a big, cheesy grin on her face. “Without one concoction by the name smelling salts, or assistance from the missing owner of this mind, our options beeth limited! Though not to worry; I have planned for this eventuality.” That is a LIE. “We may find ourselves free from the walls of the astral plane through destruction of our astral forms- by way of a significant shock!”

                I cross my arms, swallowing. Significant shock. “O-okay?”

                Cheerfully, Rose goes on, “That is to say, I believe our easiest path would be inducing death!”

                My arms hang limp. “Did you just say ‘inducing death?’”

                I liked my idea better. No, it’s not important what my idea was. I promise it’s not important what my idea was.

                “Ay! This world is most hazardous.” She gestures around. “There is a certain bounty of ways to complete the task here!”

                The ground shakes.

                I drag my hands down my face. “Rose, I can’t begin to tell you how messed up…”

                It shakes again. Louder.

                I freeze. “That…”

                Is that… the distinct sound of a Kaiju walking in this direction?

                A massive shadow comes over my body. Eclipsing the three blinding lights hanging in the sky, a towering shape stops before Rose and I. I stumble numbly backward in shock, eyes accustoming to the shift in light.

                As they do, I pick out a bright red comb between two huge, beady, synthetic eyes. Fat, three-digit talons crush the grass beneath them. A beak that might’ve been sharp if not artificial and filled with air. A big, stupid wattle that sways as its owner leans down for a closer look at us.

                Chicken balloon.

                I never thought I’d feel intimidated by a giant parade balloon shaped like a chicken.

                I exchange glances with Rose as it stares down at us. She shrugs, which I guess is my cue to greet the ol’ girl already.

                “Hey!” I shout, waving my arm. Might as well try. “Do you wanna really painlessly kill us?”

                “D’artagnan!” Rose scolds under her breath.

                “What?”

                “Tis rude.”

                The chicken doesn’t mind my rudeness, though, and replies. Her voice, like a huge, low-quality drive-through speaker, pierces my ears.

                “BA-GAWK. SUFFERING. DETECTED.”

                Groaning, I try not to cover my ears. “Uh… I guess we’re kinda suffering, if you count being stuck as—”

                “NO,” she interrupts. “DING-DONG.”

                I squint. “Did you just call me a ding-do—?”

                “IDENTIFICATION: PERSONAL DEMONS. YOU. ARE. THE SUFFERING.”

                “Personal demons…?” Rose whispers.

                The chicken straightens up. Towering high over us. Her eyes narrow. From deep inside her, there’s some sort of high-pitched sound; like something… priming. I slowly back up.

                Her drive-through voice comes out harsher and tinnier as that priming noise increases within her. And as she opens her beak again, a glow emanates from the back of her throat.

                “SUFFERING MUST BE ERADICATED. FOR THE SAKE OF. EVOLUTION. CLUCK.”

                Her beak opens wider to brandish the blue glow inside. An intense, bright light grows stronger and stronger in the back of her balloony mouth. I am but a simple eleven-year-old boy. When I see a light growing stronger in the back of a big monster’s mouth, I think of only one thing:

                Laser beam.

                … Okay then.

                “W-well,” I nervously laugh, putting my hands on Rose’s shoulders to brace myself. “Least she wants to kill us.”

                It’s fast. Being incinerated by a laser firing out of a chicken balloon’s mouth, that is. Not much to say about it except…

                It’s hot and it’s bright. Until it’s not.

 

                With a sharp gasp, I crash back into the living room, the blanket fort, and into my body. It jolts like waking up from a dream about falling. Or one about getting incinerated by a parade balloon.

                As I pat the blankets, trying to get my bearings, Rose belches beside me.

                “Nice,” I mumble off-handedly, shaking off the rest of it.

                Evolution, my mind repeats.

                Once she has her bearings, Rose peers out of the blanket fort, looking straight through the dining room and kitchen. Toward the kitchen windows. Pitch blackness outside. Knowing what we know puts a lump in my throat, and I swallow it.

                Rose and I look to each other.

                “I… guess we could just check?”

 

                Out into the cold night air. The back door shut behind us, we pass through my backyard, by the low, cruddy treehouse neither me or Angus have used in years, through the tick-infested grass beyond the row of fences, and finally toward the storm canal at the edge of the woods.

                I carefully slide down the canal and hop across the stream at the gunky bottom, wider now from the storm before. The trees loom, darker and menacing-er with each step toward them. But with Rose in tow, I sigh and climb the far side of the canal, and then the hill.

                “Just for a little,” I sternly tell her as I push through the bushes. “We’re goin’ above and beyond as is. If we don’t spot anything super obvious, we turn around so we don’t get hopelessly lost.”

                I narrow my eyes, careful not to trip over anything. “In the dark. Jeez, it’s so dark.”

                “Mayhaps thy pyrokinesis couldst light the way?” Rose offers behind me. “Mine is radial, so…”

                I step over a high root and my eyes almost roll out of my head. I thought I’d be done with this.

                “I’m not using my brand new volatile psychic flame powers to start a fire in the woods, Valdis, but nice try,” I drone. Kinda like a jerk, yeah.

                “And I’m not striking that… dumb pose.”

                In any case, the path ingrained in my brain from years of messing around in these woods pays off, and a large, blocky shape appears up ahead in the ensuing silence.

                I power through the last bit of hill and approach it. The ol’ van. It’s back doors are shut. It sits in silence.

                “Welp.” I slap the hood of the van, shooting an echo through it. This bad boy could fit so many centipedes in it. And probably does. “Here it is.”

                Rose is already turning around, fidgeting, searching for something else in the trees. Anything else, but… there ain’t much.

                “I don’t understand…” She murmurs, disappointed.

                “Yeah, me neither.” I lean against the van. “It doesn’t make sense. I mean, this is the van. Is there some other puzzle we should be solving here?”

                Rose straightens up like a meerkat. “Wait.”

                I’m too busy with my whole deal to notice. “There’s no way I’m smart enough for this. Let’s just go tell the brain cops or whatever that we found a relevant van. I’m sure they could figure it—”

                “D’artagnan, hark!” She hisses. “Hear you that?”

                I perk up. We fall silent and I hold my breath, listening closely to the quiet woods for… something. But again. There isn’t much. The owls, frogs, crickets, and whatever else usually makes a ruckus in the trees around here are almost totally silent.

                It’s unnerving.

                I’m about to ask Rose what’s up when the silence is broken.

                Abruptly. Aggressively.

                From the distance, comes a loud boom. It sends a chill up my spine.

                “That,” Rose says.

                “Y-yeah, I know, I—I heard it,” I whisper frantically, backing away from the van, joining Rose at her side. “B-but… but what was—?”

                Boom. There it is again.

                But this time, it’s closer.

                And this time, it’s followed by an inhuman bubbling sound, echoing through the trees.

                Back there in the mental world, the Kaiju-footsteps of the chicken were one thing. I wasn’t really afraid because I wasn’t really… real.

                I am now. And so is that.

                I have no idea what that is.

                “O-okay…” My voice wavers and I continue backing away. “Okay, never mind. Forget the woods. Let’s go.”

                Boom.

                I leap off my feet and in the next instant I’m gunning it back down the hill toward the forest’s edge. “Let’s go!”

                Ow I trip over a rock. Ow I trip over another. Why are there so many rocks in this forest. I burst out through the bushes and slip down the wet hill, pausing at the canal and scanning the field. In our short walk we’d drifted a little farther down from my house, where the stream is too wide to jump in one go.

                But I leap down anyway, dashing across the shallow water and climbing up the other side. We need to get back inside and away from whatever that was.

                Wait. We. Rose.

                I grind to a halt at the top and spin around.

                She’s standing at the opposite edge of the canal, looking down at the wide stream below. She doesn’t seem to be in a huge rush to cross.

                “Rose, c’mon! Hurry!” I whisper-yell as loud as I can.

                She calmly looks at me, then down at the canal. “But my socks will be drenched.”

                I claw at my hair through my hat. There’s another boom. Oh god. Oh man. She’s an idiot. “YOUR WHOLE BODY WILL PROBABLY BE DRENCHED WITH BLOOD IF YOU DON’T HURRY!”

                She looks back at the woods, listening. “But, my friend… I do not think it knows we’re here.”

                Another boom. It doesn’t sound any closer. I guess she’s technically right??

                That’s not a problem for Rose, though, who steps back into the woods to follow the noise, vanishing into the dark. Oh god, she’s an idiot.

                “Rosemary!” I hiss.

                Then, groaning, I push off with shaking legs and dash back across the canal after her. What d’you know? I’m an idiot too! The B in B Team stands for BOTH OF US ARE IDIOTS!

                I push back into the shade of the canopy and straight past the old van. Why do I always have to chase after this girl? She moves so fast why does she move so fast she was right here. My heart is pounding, it’s so dark, and I have no choice but to chase the booming sound deeper into the woods.

                It’s not long before I catch sight of Rose, carefully, soundlessly jogging between the pines. I huff, sprint up behind her, and grab her by the arm.

                “Hey! What the heck is wrong with you?!”

                She stares back like she can’t understand why I’d be kinda bent outta shape about this right now. “I… want to know what it is.”

                I laugh, bewildered. “Why? We’ve gone far enough! Whatever that is, who cares? Let’s just go tell the Psychonauts what we know!”

                “But it’s near the van!” She argues.

                “And I can explain it not, but I feel something. Something familiar.” She looks toward the sound. “Something wrong.”

                “But Rose you said there wouldn’t be any danger and you lied Roooooose,” I painfully croak through my overwhelming cowardice, clinging to the back of Rose’s nightgown as she continues toward the noise.

                My ears are primed for any sound they can pick out. My gaze darts back and forth with the justified paranoia I’m feeling currently. Gotta be honest. I don’t wanna die out here, man. But I don’t want Rose to, either, so here I am.

                She advances toward a thick wall of trees and bushes overlooking a large, moonlit clearing in the pines. She stops.

                “Ah!” She declares, triumphant, like she just found her keys. “Here.”

                Just then, something comes crashing into the clearing, scraping between two trees and slamming itself into the dirt.

                I yelp and grab Rose by the shoulders, yanking us both sloppily down behind the bushes. I’m prepared to grab my idiot and book it, just say the flipping word.

                Whatever that was didn’t sound like a living creature. It sounded like a car crash.

                The dust settles, the clearing behind the bush quiet again. I shudder. It’s… out there. Silent. We both sit silently for a few seconds too before Rose raises a brow.

                To my horror, she gets up, ducking behind the tree to our left to peek out at the clearing from behind it.

                “For the love of god, Valdis, get down,” I whine.

                At first she says nothing as she stares out. Her mouth hangs open. Her eyes as wide as the ocean I want to be across from whatever’s out there.

                “Nay, Talwar,” she finally, almost robotically says. “Look.”

                I huff like a bull. Fine. Fine. If it’ll get us out of here faster, fine. Firmly planting my palms on the needle-covered ground and shakily, slowly raising myself enough for my eyes to clear the bush, I look.

                …

                And then I raise up a little higher, because while I don’t know what I expected to see, it is not what I see.

                And I briefly think it’s only what I think I see. But no. It’s not.

                It’s right before my eyes, levitating several feet off the forest floor.

                “What… the… fffff…”

                And it’s a giant glass sphere.

                Filled with a green-tinted fluid.

                And three glowing brains.

                I feel faint. My knees buckle under me, plopping me into the wet leaves and needles. Rose stays standing, staring, but keeps glancing over as I raise a fist to my mouth. My stomach churns.

                I dunno if there’s a more complex way of describing what I’ve just seen, but it’s burned into my eyeballs, even as I squeeze them shut. The brains, each surrounded by a uniquely-colored glow, suspended in the sickly green liquid filled to the brim of a smooth glass tank the size of a big yoga ball, suspended in the air in the moonlight in the middle of the forest.

                It’d be gross to begin with. But this is surreal. To be honest, I hate remembering it.

                What is this? What’s happening?

                “Are you okay?”

                After affirming to myself that I’m not about to blow chunks, I give Rose a wobbly thumbs-up.

                “A-are those brains?” I whimper.

                “Yes,” she murmurs, eyes still somehow trained on that thing. She doesn’t look as disgusted or horrified as she absolutely should be. Just… intrigued. How does this not affect her?

                There’s another boom as the tank lands and I jump, biting my tongue to suppress the shriek that tries to escape. What are we doing here?! This is nuts! My legs itch to run away like before, but my mind won’t let me.

                Rose gasps. She vaguely waves her hand at me.

                “Dart,” she hisses. “Dart! Someone approaches…!”

                I scramble up to peer over the bush again- this time with a hand up blocking my view of the brain-ball, thank-you-very-much- and look around the clearing.

                And before our eyes, a tall, skinny figure walks out of the woods, the same way the tank had come.

                Dressed to the nines in his stupid sweater vest and khakis. The man, the myth, the legend.

                “That’s…” I whisper in disbelief.

                “Schmittlot!” Rose finishes.

                When he comes out, that strange, deep bubbling sound erupts from the tank.

                “So… d-did you see it anywhere?” Xander says, peering nervously over his shoulder. Who is he talking to?

                “What in the name of Pete is he doing here?!” I hiss.

                “He… speaks to it…” Rose whispers, calmer than me. The tank emits another burbling sound.

                “Yeah, like they’re his pets; he’s talking to a fishbowl of- of b-brains! What is he doing?!”

                “It responds.”

                I swing my head toward Rose. “What.”

                She squints, focusing. “I cannot make anything out. But that sound is telepathic energy shifting the fluid. These brains, they are… occupied. Not empty vessels of meet. There is a mind within.”

                “… That can actually happen?”

                “Yes,” she responds like she hasn’t just deeply disturbed me with this information.

                “Oh. Well, that’s comforting,” I snap as low as I can. The cold creeps up my back. “So they’re… they’re…”

                I’m interrupted by Xander’s sigh.

                “Well, maybe we should telly back to the lab and put you back together a-and I can look for it alone. … And yeah, I-I’ll take the deer out. Sorry. It was a long night.”

                Another burble of reply from the brains.

                Xander laughs. This is… bizarre. “I know it’s gross, but it has to be bathrooms! They’re in essentially every standing structure, they’re private, and they all look basically the same. … Basically. I-I mean, there’s even one in the meeting room.”

                “What is he…?” Bathrooms? Rose shakes her head back, bewildered. At least she’s as lost as me.

                “Plus, nobody wants to look at the back of a toilet. Much less touch it.”

                He’s met with another response from the tank.

                And then, suddenly, he snaps.

                “No! That thing has to be taken care of!” He shouts, face contorting into anger. “Can you imagine if someone else found it?!” He takes a deep, steady breath and lowers his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

                This…

                This is not the awkward, nerdy science teacher my brother is inexplicably in love with. This isn’t the guy who’s been endlessly patient with my snark, who’s attempted to help me with homework more than once. Who wouldn’t have it in him to yell at someone if they robbed him. That’s not Xander Schmittlot.

                It can’t be.

                “Look. I’m the one calling the shots here. This is my plan. None of this is getting left up to chance. Nothing. Do you understand, Hive?”

                Another, quieter groan.

                Rose takes a step back.

                “This is it.”

                I warily look over. That thing- he just called it a hive- is still in my periphery. She’s staring straight at it like she’d been the whole time, but now her fingers are raised to her temple.

                And now she finally looks halfway distraught.

                “Dart. The distress I feel at night. The fear…”

                I know where she’s going with this. It’s exactly where I’ve been going, and where I’ve been praying is too insane to actually be the truth.

                “It’s coming from this?”

                She nods. She looks far away. “It is here.”

                I drop back onto my butt and put my back against the bush separating us from the tank and Schmittlot. My mind is spinning.

                That’s it. That’s it, isn’t it? The way he talks to those brains out there. “The meeting room,” he said, like they’d intimately know what he meant. Why he’s been acting so flipping nervous and suspicious. Where in the world three still-thinking brains could’ve come from. Rose, being so sure she’s found the source of the pain she’s been feeling. I’m tempted to believe her.

                At this point, I know we both know it. But for dramatic effect I say it aloud, my stomach twisting tighter, my heart lodged deeper in my throat:

                “They’re the missing people.”

                There’s only three brains in there. So it’s obviously not all of them. But she’s right. They’re here.

                The tank bubbles again. Rose and I stare at each other in numb shock.

                                [o]

                “Wh-what?” Schmittlot blurts out behind me. “Did you hear something?”

                Burble.

                “… Wh-what do you mean, being watched…?”

                Ah, crap.

                Before I can react, Rose grabs me by the wrists. She hoists me off the ground and jets off into the trees, dragging me along behind her.

                “We must move silently,” she tersely whispers as we run.

                I trip over roots and rocks repeatedly as she leads me away, leaving the scene far behind us. My face is frozen in an expression of disbelief. I’m cold. The only things I can really think are affirmations that what I just saw is real. Those thoughts, and the feeling of Rose’s hand in mine, are the only things tying me to this whole reality thing right now. I don’t think I could choke out more than a word at a time if I tried.

                But y’know what? That’s fine.

                ‘Cause right now, I only have one word for this entire situation.

                “Angus.”

Notes:

there have been several drafts of the b team but this scene at the end has been the most unchanged throughout it all. stuff's kicking off lads.

chapter six art: https://imgur.com/a/hKZQLBY

Chapter 7: Sierra Oscar Sierra

FILE: TALWAR, D. MEMORY ACCOUNT 0007

 

                I’m standing in my dark kitchen.

                My throat is raw from the running Rose and I just did.

                Oh, and the screaming I’m doing right now.

                “What WAS THAT?” I shout. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

                “Xander Schmittlot and a glass enclosure filled with b—”

                “Was that REAL?!”

                Rose looks toward the windows. I’ve already hastily pulled the blinds down over them all. “T’was for certain unlike a thing I’ve elsewise seen.”

                “Their brains were out! I never wanted to see a brain! I was perfectly fine not doing that and theirs were just—out! In a big ball! Can you even put those back IN?!” My voice is shrill and I clutch the brim of my hat, practically yanking it over my eyes.

                “Y-yes?” Rose blinks at me before glancing away. “… So I’ve read.”

                I collapse against the sink cabinets and slide to the floor, exhausted. And with my mouth not running anymore… I get a second to remember something troubling from earlier.

                “… Rose, you said ‘a mind’ back there. Xander called it… he called it ‘Hive.’”  I croak. “Is that… were those brains a…”

                “A hivemind. Yes.”

                Rose folds her hands behind her back. “I imagine the others are in like situations. I realized t’was the case when we saw it. T’would explain the strangeness within that mental world we ventured into.”

                As she explains, my stomach feels sour. A hivemind. What kind of sick, twisted science experiment is that?

                This is so much worse than I thought it’d be. And that Angus is still gone… it’s like a nightmare. I feel so alone in this.

                “Angus…” I whimper. “What happened?”

                I sit there, forehead on knees, for a while, digging around in my head for something to make me feel better, but nothing’s doing. It all makes me feel sick, which makes me think it’s just thinking making me feel sick right now.

                And as my mind keeps searching, I think it searches a little too far. Because for the first time since I realized I was psychic, I reach out and touch another mind.

                It’s Rose’s mind. And it’s racing.

                Before I even decide whether I want to yank myself away, snoop a little to see if I could make out any thoughts, or sit up and blurt out an apology, (could she even feel me there, anyway?) Rose makes the first move.

                She says, “I care.”

                “What?”

                She squeezes her hands, face contorted in some sorta effort as she stares at the floor. Why does she look… ashamed?

                “I just—my friend, I do not want you to think… I don’t care,” she says, stilted. “About what you’re feeling.”

                My shoulders slump. Rose…

                “I just don’t know what to say.”

                Well, this is unexpected. I’m not used to people paying attention to my freakouts. … I guess I didn’t know they were supposed to. As I straighten up and stare up at Rose, my heart slows down. I think I burned myself out, so… I’m not sure what to say either.

                Oh, wait. I’m dumb. Yeah, I am.

                “It’s… it’s okay. Thank you.”

                Rose smiles. Her real smile. I smile back, because I’m getting good at distinguishing the real one and the “neutral” one.

                And because Rose is… kind of the best.

                She is my friend, isn’t she?

                We’re only grinning at each other like dumb morons for a few seconds before there’s a sound. One that, right now, makes my skin crawl.

                The doorbell.

                The smiles drain out of our faces as we stare at each other and our eyes go wide. Slowly, we both turn our gazes to the living room doorway.

                “Wh-who is it?” I croak toward the dark.

 

                After the doorbell rings a few more times, like the intrepid plucky fools we are, we’re creeping toward the door, silent as possible.

                Rose hangs back as I move to the curtains to peer through, unarmed. I thought about getting one of Mom’s swords from her room, but she’d kill me anyway, so that’d just prolong things.

                “Who’s there?” Rose whispers.

                From my vantage point it’s hard to tell, but I make out a silly hat and baton on the figure outside.

                “It’s a cop.”

                “A cop…?”

                “Yeah, it’s…” I stop. Hold on. This isn’t just any cop. I know that dumb nose and hair. This is…

                I lean back from the window and glare flatly at the wall, my anxiety washed over by a fresh wave of annoyance. ‘Course. Of course. Rose tilts her head, confused, but really, who else could it be?

                “It’s Morales.”

                In no time flat, I’m throwing caution to the wind and the door open on our guest. He leaps in surprise as it rattles against the wall. Rose approaches behind me.

                “Officer Morales!” I cheer in my best definitely-not-intentionally-sounding-sarcastic voice. “How nice to see you!”

                But I stop, because up close, he looks…

                Out of breath. Frazzled.

                “Hey! Rose! Dart! Kids! Can I come in?”

                I raise my hand to stop him before either he or Rose can act. “Ap-ba-ba, mister, not without a warrant.”

                He frowns. “But I’m off-duty…!”

                “What bringeth thee here, Miguel?”

                “… I saw you two run across the canal,” he whispers. Aw, crud. “And I heard the booming in the forest.”

                As I glance unsurely at Rose, he suddenly looks up, scanning the darkness behind us. He briefly raises a hand to his temple before looking back down at me, alarmed.

                “Dart… your brother is gone, isn’t he?”

                I jolt. My mind suddenly feels exposed and instinctively cocoons itself in a mental shield. He wasn’t reading my mind, was he? I look to Rose, who nods supportively.

                I sigh.

                “Yeah?”

                “You’re not in trouble, buddy. You’re just great!” Okay I don’t care. “B-but why didn’t you go to the police?”

                Because apparently they’re useless? “Because I thought I had to wait a day to file a missing person’s report?”

                He pinches the bridge of his nose. You don’t need empathic powers to feel the stress radiating off him. Dude’s had a long night, which I will get into shortly.

                “Well… maybe it’s for the best,” he murmurs. “This might be above our paygrade after all.”

                “Wherefore, Miguel?” Rose asks. “What happened?”

                “I’d love to explain, but…” he laughs, peering over his shoulder into the night. “This probably isn’t the best place for it.”

                My shoulders drop, my head lolls back in defeat. I groan. Rose trusts him, and now he’s got me interested. I step away from the door. “Fine. C’mon. I don’t consent to searches.”

                He smiles sheepishly, tapping his forefingers together. “Oh, and… is it okay if one other person comes in, too?”

                “Good grief, who?”

                As if to answer, Rose tugs at my sleeve, pointing down the yard toward the gate. There on the sidewalk, unnoticed till now, is a woman. Hugging her arms, stray strands- more than usual- dangling out of her hair. … Wearing dark shades and glaring back with a furrowed brow. My math teacher.

                I cock my head to the side. “Friede?”

 

                “To put it delicately, the excrement’s hit the fan, kids.”

                “You’re tellin’ us. What happened with you two?”

                The four of us are back in the kitchen. Friede’s leaned against the table, arms folded tightly, (she’s still wearing sunglasses why is she wearing sunglasses) I’m on the counter, Rose stands by the door and Morales paces incessantly.

                “Where do I even begin…?”

                “Why don’t ya start with why you were hanging around here anyway?”

                “Well, I…” He stops, fidgeting. “I don’t want to scare you kids. The fact of the matter is… u-um, that is,” jeez, spit it out, “About the people who went missing from that psychology club…”

                Friede raises her head, interrupting to bluntly say, “Their brains have been removed.”

                Rose and I exchange glances. “We know.”

                Thing is… how’d they know?

                “Gwen…!” Morales hisses.

                “What?” Friede gravels back. “If his brother is involved, he has a right to know. They both do.”

                Morales frowns deeply, but she goes on. She’s… not the same Friede from school. Her voice is low. She doesn’t seem constantly-bordering-on-panic. She’s very still. Also the sunglasses. Addy said the other day she’d snap. I don’t think they meant like this.

                “I was walking home from the store when I saw one of them on the other side of a barb-wire fence. I called out to her, but she wouldn’t answer me. She was just stumbling around the field by the woods, mumbling something.” She falters briefly, thinking. “… Two things. But I couldn’t hear her, and I thought she was hurt. So I called Miguel.”

                I nervously rub the back of my neck and ask, “Um… who exactly was it…?”

                “Akari…” Rose murmurs under her breath.

                “Akari Saito. My partner.”

                I sigh. Yeah. That makes sense.

                “But that’s just it,” she says. “While I was waiting for Miguel, I realized what was wrong. I called out, and I reached out telepathically, but I didn’t feel anything there at all. I didn’t find Akari. I just found her body.”

                I blink. “Her body!” I exclaim. Holy crap, how’ve I not thought about the bodies before. Finding these people’s bodies is like, essential to putting their brains back in their bodies! “D-do you guys have it??”

                “No.” Friede glowers at the floor. “By the time Miguel and I managed to get inside, it’d already wandered off, and… it was gone.”

                I groan. Great. Then that’s one more thing for us all to worry about. I fold my arms, the anxiety eating at me, and mutter, “Sounds like you didn’t find her body.”

                And then immediately regret it, as Friede slowly turns to me and shoots me a narrow-eyed look that I’m not even sure couldn’t kill me because she’s a psychic and who knows if she’s trying to poison me with her brain right now. Why did I say that. Dart.

                Eyes wide, I wilt. “S-sorry. I’m. Stressed out.”

                “Wait,” Morales interjects, rescuing me.

                There’s dawning confusion on his face. He raises a brow.

                “How did… you two know their brains were removed? What did you see out there…?”

                In response, Rose and I nod to each other. And we begin to explain the whole thing.

 

                And we explain the whole thing. And it’s great. I was really cool. You should’ve seen it.

 

                Frogs croak noisily outside. Friede and Morales stare slack-jawed at us.

                “Xander…” Friede whispers. “What the hell…?”

                “Since we saw not six brains, I believe another hivemind exists,” Rose explains. “And that Schmittlot wishes to use their combined psychic abilities to his benefit; though to what end, I know not.”

                “I-it doesn’t matter why he’s doing it!” Friede cries, standing up. “All that matters is stopping him, the little weasel!”

                “I’m with you there. And I like the new attitude, Friede!”

                “Hush-up, Dart.”

                “Whoa!”

                “That tears it,” she goes on. “Your instincts were right, Rose. This is a case worth taking to the Psychonauts.”

                I rub the back of my neck, grimacing. I hope this isn’t something they’ve all overlooked. “Right, I was meaning to ask about that. How exactly d’we get in contact with the international psychic agency? We’re on a time crunch.”

                “Most immediate-wise?” Rose says. “Over the radio.”

                “The… huh?”

                “This is not known by many, but the only direct contact to the Psychonauts I know of beeth a longwave radio frequency, co-opted to react to a psychic mind.”

                I feel like that’s not even a little how that should work, but I don’t know enough about radio frequencies to dispute it.

                “And a club at our school has access to the proper radio for this! All we must do is find some way to sneak in!” She turns to Morales and Friede, grinning. “We shouldst set off quickwise, yes?”

                Morales fidgets awkwardly.

                “Actually, Rose… you should probably let us handle this.”

                Rose’s shoulders drop. Her face falls. “Wh… what? Miguel, you cannot be serious…!”

                I fold my arms. Yeah, I was expecting this, actually.

                “It’s too dangerous out there right now,” he sighs. “You know that.”

                Rose scoffs. She turns to Friede. “Gwen, you must tell him!”

                Friede frowns, shifting her weight from one hip to the other and, even behind her sunglasses, refusing eye contact with Rose. “Actually, Rose… I agree with him.”

                “B… but…”

                “If this is true, then we can’t have you going out at night when there’s a…” Her stoic face contorts in discomfort. “… mad scientist and an enslaved… glass sphere of his friends’ brains out there.” Her gaze softens. “It isn’t that I don’t have faith in you. I know what you’re capable of, Rose. But you’re only a child. Stay here with Dart. We’ll take care of the radio call.”

                Rose’s brow furrows. She looks down at the tiled floor.

                “Hm. Thou art right, I suppose.” She shrugs. “I guess we need not be there to ensure the mission is complete. T’would have been nice, though.”

                Morales smiles lopsidedly and kneels in front of her.

                “You did some really great work on this, Rose.” He smiles at me. “And you too, pal.”

                “You’re not my dad.”

                He stands up, straightening his hat. “Don’t worry, Dart. Gwen. We’ll have them back in no time thanks to you kids.”

                And just like that, we’re officially cast to the wayside. I should feel relieved, but for some reason… I don’t. Like, it’s just some dumb radio distress call, right? But when I look at Rose, I can’t help but feel just a little bit disappointed.

                I laugh quietly. I guess I know why that is.

                “Eh, we were just the backup.”

                I nudge Rose in the side, and she shoots me a small smile.

                “We are the B Team, after all.”

                Friede and Morales stare blankly at us in that way grownups do when you’re just too cool and hip for them.

                “… Oh, d’you guys have a team name?”

 

                So, once that’s settled, those two squares make their way outta my dang house and I stall in the living room with Morales as Rose runs out to say goodnight to Friede.

                “One more thing, Dart,” Morales says, putting on his windbreaker.

                Oh nooo…

                “Well, I just wanted to see if I could convince you…” A crooked, hopeful smile is on his face. “To take a few… PSI-power pointers from me?”

                My hands, planted on my hips, fall limply to my sides. I glare back, unimpressed.

                “Friede put ya up to this?”

                Morales huffs a little, breaking eye contact. “I don’t just… do what Gwen tells me, you know…”

                “Look. I really doubt it’ll be that easy for me. I can’t just think stuff like PSI-fist and double-jumps into existence like you guys can. … I can barely ever think one thing at a time.”

                Morales hums thoughtfully, leaning on the open door.

                “Then… maybe there’s another method you could try?”

                I tilt my head. “… How can there be more than one way to throw the same punch? Or jump the same jump?”

                “Well, it’s all in our heads! Why not?”

                I don’t really have an argument for that one. That usually doesn’t stop me, but I’m exhausted.

                “So, boxers are taught to punch through their opponents, right?” Morales begins, putting his blocky fists up. “So when you throw a punch with your PSI-fist, instead of thinking about creating the psychic projection of your hand, tell yourself it already landed.”

                “So…” I smirk. It’s such a ridiculous idea. “You’re saying punch through in time… instead of space?”

                “Basically!”

                I’m trying really hard to come up with something here that isn’t, “that’s dumb.” Which it is, but…

                “Go on! Give it a try!” He gestures toward the couch. I sigh and face it. “Try taking a psychic swing at the couch! You’ve already done it.”

                … I crack my neck. I bend my knees, put my fists up, fix my gaze on the couch’s side. It all feels very silly, but this is far from the strangest thing I’ve done tonight.

                Sure! I’ve already punched the couch with my giant psychic fist!

                … And then I do.

                As my fist swings forward, a flash of lime-green swings by my right side. The distinct shape of a fist, twice as big as mine, and it’s there for just a split second before it crashes against the arm of the couch and thoroughly rattles the whole thing.

                I stumble backward, gasping, as the PSI-fist dissipates, and clutch my own wrist.

                “Uh, s-sorry!” I blurt out, but I’m not sure why.

                “No, you shouldn’t be!” Morales cheers. “That was great. Good job, Dart!”

                I force back a smile. I don’t want this square thinking he can establish a relationship with me.

                “There, see? I told you there’s no shame in needing help.”

                I freeze. Hold up.

                Was Morales… was he just trying to prove a point from yesterday just now? Is that what this was about?!

                Before I can bite back, he’s already on his way out the door.

                I head to the doorway as he walks down the front path after Friede and Rose squeezes by me into the safety of the house.

                What I want to say is, “Don’t ever come back here again you bastard.” What I say instead is…

                “Good luck, guys!”

                “Goodnight!” Miguel calls back. “And don’t worry!”

 

                As quickly as they came, they’re gone, and Rose stays. I’m not complaining. I really don’t want the house to be empty right now.

                I decided to camp out in the living room with Rose and I sit there now on the recliner, (there was fierce debate about sleeping arrangements. Rose will not out-accommodate me in my house.) my cheek resting on my fist, my eyes gazing blankly at the blank TV screen.

                I can’t stop thinking about him. Angus. And Xander too, the psycho. I was never close to Xander, but that that seemingly-painfully-normal guy kidnapped his own support group, did that with their brains… it feels too crazy to be real.

                And I’m probably tired, but I dunno if I’ll be able to sleep. How can I, when he’s out there somewhere, possibly/probably with his brain in a big tank with other brains? What is he thinking right now? Is he thinking? Does he know help is coming?

                I hate this feeling. I didn’t want to be part of this to begin with, but after Friede and Morales grounded us, I feel burned by it. It all just feels like it’s got a fist around my guts and it’s squeezing.

                Rose has been arranging her pillow and blanket on the couch until it’s just right, and she turns to me as my head swims in anxiety.

                “Friend, thou should rest,” she says. “Thou surely feel sleep invite thee in. Dost thou not wish to go?”

                “Mm. ‘Course I wish to, Rose. This…” I keep staring ahead at the TV. “This is the most stressed out I’ve ever been.”

                She puts a hand on her hip, head cocked. “Hmm… thy anxiety beeth palpable.”

                … Right. Forgot again. Empath. This kinda thing- feeling people around her freaking out- must infuriate her. Heck, that’s why she took this case to begin with. I’m so exhausted I didn’t even feel her that time.

                I close up my mind. It’s getting easier, like flexing a new muscle. I rub my face. “My bad.”

                “Not at all.”

                She walks toward me (and I’m like, “???”) to reach the lamp on the table beside my chair. (“!”) Standing in the warm light, she reaches for the switch, glancing at me. “May I?”

                “Uh…” I shouldn’t be staring. “Yeah?”

                She turns off the light.

                And as I’m plunged into relative darkness, I expect her to return to the couch, but she stops and looks at me. I squirm, hopefully unnoticeable in the dark. Listen, I’ve rarely had girls in my house that weren’t my mom, okay? And when it’s Rose…

                I’m about to ask her what the heck’s up when she reaches out and softly rests her palm against my forehead.

                Wha—

                What?

                Even now, I can see the gentle smile on her face pointed down at me. Like nothing about this is strange. “Goodnight.”

                “Um. Ni—” Too bewildered to say anything else. My cheeks warm, my mind racing. My heart racing. The heck. “N-night.”

                Just like that, she pulls back her hand and walks back across the room to the couch.

                No, but seriously, what? My runaway anxiety train grinds to a halt. I sit, blinking in utter confusion. And… something else. Blink, blink.

                … Blink. Whoa. When did my eyelids get so heavy? And my head? The sleepiness sits on me like a thick blanket. I’ve been this tired the whole time and didn’t even notice.

                My mind struggles to force the anxious thoughts back on me, but it’s like it’s lost the energy to. When and how I’m getting Ang back, what he’s gonna be like when I do, if Xander- the stupid worthless turd, is gonna be brought to justice, if everyone’s gonna get back to their families, and in the back of my head, Mom… it should be crushing me right now, but it’s not.

                Somehow, I figure, somehow, even if I’m not sure how, it’s all gonna be okay. And so am I.

                In fact, I already am.

                Inexplicable tears well up in my eyes. I blink them away, confounded.

                “Wh-what? The heck…?” I mumble. I don’t even know where that came from! What… is this?

                “Rose, did you… did you…?”

                “Sleep well, Dart!” She calls from across the room. I can’t even be bothered to look at her right now. Or, for that matter… anything.

                “Wow, I really am tired,” I breathe.

                And then I’m out.

 

                My dreams have been vivid lately. Obviously.

                But not this one. I barely even remember it enough to record it here. I don’t remember colors or shapes or even voices, but I do remember… words.

                Just a few words.

 

                “See… there you are. Sleeping. Safe and sound.”

 

                “… I know I shouldn’t worry so much. It’s silly. I know you’ll be okay. As long as you two have…”

 

                “Wh…”

 

 

                “… Where’s Angus?”

 

                The next thing I know, I’m waking up.

                Inhaling deeply as I’m hit with the disorientation of being awake, my eyes slowly open. I’m still curled up in the recliner, tangled in the throw blanket and facing the lamp.

                The light’s not on, but it’s clear the sun is about to rise. Not often I actually catch sunrise.

                I quietly roll over and blink when I see the couch empty.

                Rose is up too.

                And she’s… up. Dressed in a stripe shirt, long skirt and vest, anglers out of her hair, backpack slung over her shoulder. She doesn’t notice I’m awake yet.

                She fluffs her hair and sighs before walking to the door and silently unlocking it.

                Groggily, I push myself up. Is she… leaving?

                “Rose…?”

                She flinches, whirling to face me. “Dart!”

                “Rose… where are y’going?” I rub my face, declining the chair. “Th-the sun’s barely even up…”

                Rose swallows hard. She puts her hand on the arm of the couch, picking at a stray thread uncomfortably.

                “I…” She begins, but stops. I slowly stand up, putting my hands on my hips. Side-note, there is a horrible crick in my neck.

                “I… I know it could merely be myself being… imaginative…” she murmurs. “But… I felt—when I slept this last night, I felt…”

                She falls silent again.

                “… Screaming.”

                I swallow hard. Chills run up my spine. That just… can’t be good.

                “Sc-screaming…?”

                “Yes, of…” She rubs her eyes, looking more tired than she did last night. “Of anger and frustration… desperation…”

                I walk toward her. “A-and what, you think… y’think it was the hivemind?”

                “I do. And… I know Gwen and Miguel have surely made the call by now, that the Psychonauts are coming, but…” She turns to place her hand on the doorknob.

                “… I just want to make sure. Or I will never stop thinking about it.”

                I want to say something, but Rose smiles back at me.

                “Thou need not come with me.”

                “Rose, what… of course I’m coming! Look, that stupid rotten nerd has my brother! If you wanna call ‘em again just to make sure…” I snort, shrugging. “Let’s call ‘em again!”

                She smiles gratefully, taking a deep breath, but says nothing. I take it as a cue to head up the stairs to get changed out of my jammies. It’s a weird feeling in my chest right now. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was excitement.

                … Who’m I kidding. That’s exactly what it is. I just wanna talk to the secret agents, man.

                “I need to get dressed, just…”

                As I run up the stairs, I point down at her.

                “Just don’t leave without me, okay?”

                “Never!”

 

                I’ve got a bad feeling.

                I know I shouldn’t. This is it right? All we need to do is go to school, get on the radio, call the Psychonauts, and hole up until they come save everyone.

                But…

                I’m standing in the kitchen, fridge door open, staring down at the wooden crate of Bravo Cola. Two bottles left. It’s stupid, right? This is it. There are only so many ways we could mess this up, and I know I’m good at that, but I definitely don’t plan on doing any of ‘em.

                But I’ve got a bad feeling.

                I snatch the two bottles and stash them in my bag.

                And I head out the front door. Whatever happens after this, I’m gonna end up really glad I did that. You know as well as I do, things aren’t about to go one hundred percent to plan today. Like, for instance, just to start with…

                Spoiler alert.

 

                Morales and Friede were never gonna make it to that radio anyway.     

 

                I’m riding uphill on the back of Rose’s bike. It’s interesting. I realize this is kinda a unique scenario, but I’m not used to heading to school with anyone but Angus or Mom. Me and my old friends never really bothered to.

                I wonder if she’d walk with me on a normal day? It’s nice. To hang out with her. And having her to keep me company last night, being alone with her, that was nice too.

                Even the part where I think she used her powers to put me to sleep.

                …

                Yeah I should figure out what that was about huh.

                “Hey, did you happen to knock me out last night?” I blurt out. Rose glances back innocently.

                “Knock thee out?”

                Aw c’mon, just understand what I mean. “Ye-yeah, I mean, with the forehead-slappy-thing in the dark, did you… do anything? Psychic?”

                “Ahh, I see.” The bike smoothly goes over a bump. “Nay, I put you not to sleep. Though surprised I was at how quickly thou drifted off! I made an attempt to help thy mind calm its anxiety. In truth, I was not sure it would work!”

                “Y-you… you can do that?”

                Rose is way more powerful than I gave her credit for. She just… told my panicking brain to shut up and it listened? So much that it felt comfy enough to conk out?

                She bashfully shrugs. “Typically it has worked only on small animals…”

                I deflate. For no particular reason, feeling a little insecure about my brain. “Oh. Great to hear.”

                “But I am glad of its positive effect on thee!” She cheers, chin held high, radiating pride.

                And though that suddenly makes me completely forget about that insecurity, I say, “Well, remember to ask permission to do that kinda thing, alright?”

                “Why, of course!” Rose replies, simple as anything, as if she… had last night, or something?

                (“Dost thou not wish to go?” -> “Of course I wish to.” -> “May I?” -> “Yeah.” -> SURE.)

                Y’know, I wouldn’t put it past her. I think I need to work on keeping a more direct line of communication with Rosy here.

                “But that’s… pretty cool, Rose. That power might come in handy later.”

                Don’t give me that look.

 

                I squeeze myself through the narrow gap in a hallway window I managed to open and look around the empty school. Oh, yeah. There’s a weird energy around here. I stand, silently staring down the hall for a moment before Rose gets my attention and I help her inside after me.

                I know we’re alone here. Obviously.

                But just that we are, that it’s dark and silent and we shouldn’t even be here… it makes me feel like we’re being watched.

 

                I push the door open, flicking on the lights of an empty classroom- the radio club’s room. I can tell from all the radios literally lying around everywhere. There are several on the table against the back wall, wires tangled, along with a few other gadgets. The closet hangs slightly open, and what looks like more are inside.

                “Any idea which one would work?” I whisper, wandering in.

                “A more powerful radio would be larger… r-right?”

                “Yeah, makes about as much sense as anything else in this situation.”

                I yank the closet door open. And I step back. Welp. That’s a pretty large one.

                A big, old, beat-up radio with a long antenna and a bunch of weird dials and screens sits on a cart inside, otherwise occupied by a bunch of garbage I’m not interested in.

                “So…” I side-eye Rose. “I dunno how to work this thing, and I’m betting you don’t either.”

                “Well…”

 

                So that was the most annoying thing ever, but I think we got it.

                We basically just messed around until it seemed right, but it’s plugged in, it’s on, it’s making noises, the wires are untangled, it didn’t electrocute me, the microphones and headsets are in. God, this thing is weird.

                “Okay,” I huff, dropping into one of the chairs we pulled up. “You know the frequency of this thing, right? Please say yes.”

                “But of course!”

                Rose reaches out and daintily twists the dial to adjust the frequency. Between large volumes of fuzz, there are snippets of calm conversations about various things I don’t understand and a few pirate radio stations. “I believe it is…”

                She passes the apparent frequency and stops, dialing it back in. I straighten up, trying to organize my thoughts.

                Which ain’t easy.

                Because there’s now a sick harmonica solo screaming in my ears.

                And then an acoustic guitar. And a banjo. I’m pretty sure a cow moos in the background.

                I slowly look at Rose.

                “Um—”

                “This one.”

                “Y-you what? This one?”

                “Yes…”

                “The two-way pirate radio station playing deafening country music in my ears right now??”

                Blinking, baffled by what we’re hearing, Rose says, “Yes.”

                “So… I…” I shake my head and lean into the mic. “Uh. Hello?”

                Apart from a bit of static disturbing the music, there’s no reply. There aren’t voices in the background. No debonair superspies seriously discussing their espionage bullcrap or exchanging sophisticated codes. Just country music. In my brain. I frown.

                “Gotta be honest, I don’t understand.”

                Rose folds her arms.

                “Well… tis not what I expected, exactwise.” Exactwise. “But I see its intention.”

                “Okay?”

                “As a security measure, this frequency can be used propersome only through psychical means. That to say, through a psychic focusing their mind… on only one thought.”

                I blink. “Eh?”

                “That’s all it said where I discovered this knowledge!” She cheerfully shrugs, then pats her fist against her palm. “I believe this ‘one thought’ refereth to a thought of the frequency’s true nature itself.”

                Oh no. Figures. It friggin’ figures that’d be how we accessed it, right? I drop my face into my palm. “Oh jeez…”

                Rose raises a brow, asking “what’s wrong?” with her eyes.

                “I-it’s just…” I clear my throat, and after a second, put my headphones down on the table. And awkwardly stand up. “I mean, we don’t really need both of us for this, do we?”

                Rose’s face falls.

                “Maybe I should actually sit this one out, and not distract you from—”

                “N-no!”

                I freeze. Rose’s fists are balled up, her brow furrowed.

                “I…” Her face softens. “Sorry. But… I’m not really good at…”

                She blushes, looking out the window. “… talking on the phone.”

                All at once, it makes sense. I understand why she needed me at all. I can talk. She doesn’t just hate talking on the phone. She can’t.

                And she’s ashamed of it, isn’t she? It’s there on her face, but I didn’t even think it was possible. Rose is really… y’know, weird, but I just figured that was something she reveled in. Y’know, with the Shakespeare and the clothes and the smiling; I thought she was leaning into it. That there’s something in the way she is that she feels is holding her back… seems impossible, because I can’t really see anything wrong with her from here?

                How could I leave?

                I sit down.

                “Alright. I can try.” I put my headphones on. “But I’m warning you. This is not my strong suit.”

                She smiles softly. “Thank you…”

                I get comfortable, cheek propped up on palm, eyes flickering around the little lights and screens on the radio. Birds chirp outside and the sun is starting to come up for real, turning the thick pines beside the school orange. It’s usually only in winter I see the sunrise during school. I smirk at the thought.

                “Can’t believe we broke into school during the summer,” I say, right before remembering I’m supposed to be shutting up and focusing. But even though I prepare for it, I don’t get any reproach.

                “Ay!” She says, hair bouncing as she turns to me. “How exciting! I have not done such a thing before!”

                Definitely me neither. Rebelling illegally always seemed like too much risk for the reward. I’m only doing it now because I have no choice whatsoever… and there’s nobody around to punish me anyways. But Rose… how much exactly is she rebelling right now?

                “How would your… parents feel about you doin’ this?”

                “My parents care not what I do so long as I excel academically,” Rose says, matter-of-factly. “Tis why I was here- got two C’s!”

                I almost scoff. She got two C’s and her crap parents sent her to summer school? I got two F’s and I thought that was too far!

                “Though…” She squints toward the hallway door. “I think they would smile not upon my current machinations.”

                Yeah. About what I figured.

                I want to say screw those guys, but what I say instead is:

                “That’s a shame. I sure smile upon them.”

                Which is arguably worse.

                Rose smiles quizzically. “Thou hate this not?”

                My cheeks are warm. I feel vaguely found out. Like it was a secret that I’m capable of tolerating things. But… it’s true. Yeah, I was super afraid of the hivemind in the woods, and the whole my-brother-was-kidnapped thing is pretty awful, and I haven’t really been sure we’d pull this off, but I’ve never done anything like this either.

                “W-well, yeah,” I admit. “This has been exciting, at least. Y’know. When we’re doing well.”

                Rose laughs. It’s not something she does a lot for someone who smiles so much.

                “I definitely wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t, though,” I finish, finally shutting up so we can actually do what we’re supposed to.

                So does she. Relaxing, Rose’s eyes gently shut, and she takes a deep, peaceful breath.

                And it’s silent and peaceful like that for a few more seconds before her eyes snap back open. She blinks, gaze flickering, a hand raised to her headphones… before she reaches out and flicks her microphone off.

                My eyes widen. “Did you just…?”

                She nods, still staring ahead in wonder at whatever she’s hearing now. “Ay. Got it.”

                … Aaand now I’m under even more pressure. I shakily breathe, desperately trying to focus my thoughts. It just makes me feel more scrambled. I’m thinking about a thousand different things.

                “S-sorry. Still not getting’ it.”

                Rose smiles. “Have patience!”

                Relieved that she’s not losing patience herself, I snort. “Heh. Figures it’d be this we needed to end this thing.”

                She tilts her head. “Hm?”

                “I mean, last time I saw Angus, we were arguing about the whole reason I—” I clear my throat. “Didn’t pass being that I was too lazy to focus. And now it turns out I have to.”

                A crow caws outside. I jump. That’s not helping matters.

                “… I do not think thou art lazy, Dart. Not at all.”

                I sit up. What is she…?

                “I have seen thee give thine entire self to this quest from the start,” she says. “That inability to focus… it must surely come from elsewhere. But not thy choice.”

                I have to keep my jaw from hanging open. I don’t even know what to say. Really, she’s stumped me! Is that really how she thinks of me? I didn’t know anyone could think of me that way.

                “But… thou cannot focus and I cannot speak.” She grins, amused, eyes shining. “What a good match we make!”

                I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like if I really was more matched with Rose. If I was half as brave as she is. Or optimistic, or clever. Or nice. Somehow, she already makes me wanna try.

                And suddenly, I…

                … Um.

                Hang on, gotta step in here for a sec. Look, do I really have to think about this? Th-things like this? ‘Cause it’s definitely gonna come up again and I don’t think it’s particularly relevant, so…

                … Yeah, but. Can’t I just skip—I know you aren’t gonna care about—!

                … Fine. You asked for it.

                It’s last night. I was wondering why it was still bothering me, and now I think I know.

                It’s because it was her. When she’d suddenly silenced my anxious thoughts, when all I had to think about was her and me, her hand on my head and her tired smile in the weak light from outside… let’s cut to the chase. I’m real dumb. But I ain’t that dumb. It’s obvious what this is.

                It’s a crush. I’ve got a crush on Rose Valdis.

                And just like that, for one moment, all the inane horse hockey is swept out of my mind, all of my two hundred useless processes crash in the face of that realization.

                And it’s stupid, but yeah, that’s what does it. In the few seconds I spend staring blankly ahead, the music that’d been deafening me fades out into silence. It’s instead replaced with the quiet beeping of computers and fuzzy chatter in the background. I gasp.

                “I…” I clamp my hands against my headphones like the sound will escape if I don’t. “I hear it!”

                It didn’t have to be one thought about the frequency. It just had to be one thought.

                Rose claps excitedly. “Really?”

                “Really?” A voice says in my ears. Their chair squeaks as they pull it closer. “What am I saying right now? Orange-Monkey-Eagle!”

                “Orange-Money-Eagle,” I repeat, stunned.

                “Nice. Hey, you left your mic on and we heard the heart-to-heart you two were having! That was really sweet!”

                Oh.

                I look down at the switch on my microphone stand. It’s lit up. Hers isn’t.

                “Um.” My face is on fire. “Thanks??”

                I can’t even look at her. Oh jeez, what is wrong with me? Why’d I have to pick this time to have that realization? I don’t feel her there but I’m still paranoid that somehow she can tell that I GOOD GRIEF I’M ON THE LINE WITH A PSYCHONAUT RIGHT NOW.

                “So! What’re your names?”

                “Uh. I’m D’artagnan Talwar.”

                Turning on her mic, Rose quickly says, “Rose Valdis.”

                “Where are you transmitting from, exactly?”

                “Shakestone, Nowata.”

                There’s a long pause.

                “Huh. A D’artagnan Talwar in Shakestone, Nowata, eh?”

                I roll my eyes, but I’m a little grateful to have. That. Off my mind. “Yesss, it’s a weird name, I didn’t pick it out.”

                “N-no, it’s not that, it’s—” They clear their throat. “Anyway!” ??? “Here’s the thing: We don’t use this frequency a lot! It got a little needlessly complicated. Aren’t you two a little young to be using this?”

                “Yes,” I say. “Yes, we are. There’s a psychic emergency going on in Shakestone right now and we’re just trying to confirm you’ll be addressing it.”

                “Alright, well, just remain calm.” I thought we were. “What’s happening?”

                I take a deep breath. “We believe that the leader of a local psychic support group disguised as a psychology discussion group has kidnapped his fellow group members, removed their brains, and put them in a big tank to turn them into a big gross hivemind.”

                “A-and there may be more than one!” Rose chimes in.

                “You should’ve gotten a call over the radio from our friends about this, actually…”

                Silence on the other end. I tap my fingers against the table. That’s the gist of it. So do they send out a fleet of Psychonauts to do this thing, or what?

                I swallow hard. “… You… did get their call… right?”

                Finally, the operator replies:

                “… This isn’t a prank, is it?”

                My head is going to explode.

                This chump- this psychic secret agent- is not pulling the “skeptical adult” trope on me right now. NOT TODAY! “Oh, what do you want from me? We were deep in the woods, hiding from an insane man who had a ball of brains under his control, doing his bidding! It levitated and shook the trees when it landed! It was a glass tank full of green fluid with brains trapped inside. That’s what I saw! I literally saw that! Ya want me to use more adjectives to help you believe me? It was beautiful! Transcendent, even! I loved how the tank fluid glinted in the blue moonlight!”

                “Whoa.”

                “Now c’mere, we need backup!”

                “Okay, okay. Look, I definitely don’t know about any other call from Shakestone in the past… ever.”

                Rose and I exchange troubled glances. How could they not have…?

                “But we hear you. A-and we want to help.” Thank. God. “But… okay, we’re kiiiinda having an emergency at HQ right now? Y’see, Truman Zanotto is mi-” They cut themself off. “-iii-iii-uhhh, n-never mind! Not supposed to mention that! Classified! Forgot you heard that, h-haha!”

                I squint wearily. Okay. I’ve already forgotten.

                … Who is Truman Zanotto? Can you tell me? … No?

                “Well, everythi—H##o?—fine at HQ right now!”

                I flinch. Wha… what was that? That wasn’t them that said that, was it?

                “Uh, did someone just…?”

                “We’ll check it out,” the operator says. I don’t think they heard it.

                Looks like Rose did, though. Her hand is raised to her head and she squints in- I think- confusion.

                And then…

                You just have to suck the wind outta our sails, don’t you?

                “But—###o?—can’t send anyone out there right away. Uh, tomorrow evening a# ##e earliest.”

                There it was again. But more importantly…

                ‘Tomorrow.’

                Rose’s eyes widen. My shoulders drop. What? No way, they can’t mean that!

                “Wait. T-tomorrow? As in, today tomorrow or tomorrow-tomorrow?”  

                “Huh? Tomorrow ##ways just—### hea# ##?—ow! I mean tomorrow as in… at l##st twenty-four hours fr## now.”

                What are we supposed to do until then?!

                I don’t even notice how much the connection is cutting out. Or that the overhead lights just flickered.

                “N-no, no!” I shout. “It has to be now!”

                “##at? I-I’m l##### y## #ere.”

                I yank the microphone closer to shout into it, pressing the headset against my ear. The lights flicker again.

                “The HIVEMIND!” I cry over the static. “It won’t last that—!”

                The room goes dark for a solid two seconds. The other line is swallowed by earsplitting static.

                In case you were wondering what happens on our end right now… well. Here it goes.

                Rose groans, hands to her temples, and I growl, leaping out of my chair and smacking the radio. “No, no, c’mon!”

                Right on cue, a voice cuts through the static again.

                “##llo? H-hello?”

                That’s… not the operator.

                “Pl##se tell me you’re listen#ng.”

                “Wha…” I croak.

                “We’re listening!” Rose blurts out. “Wh-who is this—?”

                “I don’t have a lot of time. I don’t think I have any time at all, he’s already…” It doesn’t sound like they heard her at all. “My name is… it’s… s-something. I can’t remember which one is—look, if you’re the psychic who’s been receiving my messages, I’m sorry, but I need to ask for your help one more time.”

                I gape at Rose. It’s for her. She stares up at the radio wordlessly.

                And I look back at it too, but…

                “Xander… I hadn’t realized how horrible his plan is. It has to be stopped tonight.”

                Something’s wrong with it.

                “I don’t think he even knows what it’s going to do to us. I-it’s insane! If we don’t get out of this soon, I doubt any of me—I mean, any of us, are going to make it out ##th my mind in one piece! … I mean, our minds!”

                The radio, it’s… buckling. It’s like there’s something building up inside of it. The sides are bulging.

                “I don’t ##ow who you are, but ###’## my l### hope. You need to help me!”

                My eyes widen.

                Something inside the radio is sizzling.

                “Go find that ### van I ##owe# ###! ##side, there’s a—”

                The radio explodes.

                Rose shrieks, ducking, as a dial rockets out of the radio like a bullet and slams into the wall at the back of the room. I leap up, reflexively clinging to my microphone, and stumble backward as sparks fly out of the machine, pieces crack apart, shards of the casing rain to the floor.

                We back away from the table, mouths hanging open, as the radio stops sparking.

                All the screens are off. The radio makes no noise. The antenna is scorched.

                Smoke rises up from the casing.

                And it burns.

                My microphone drops to the ground.

                “It won’t last that long,” I croak. “Is what I was gonna say.”

Notes:

HEY GUYS, I DON'T HAVE ANY INTERESTING COMMENTS TO SAY AT THE END OF THIS ONE! EXCEPT! no chapters next week or the week after! this whole stretch has kinda been "part one" of the B team and the rest that follows will be part two. so i leave you on this cliffhanger! and i will see you then!

Chapter 8: The Call

Notes:

i

am so sorry.

i never meant for the wait to be this long, but man have i encountered a major creative block these past couple months. like, so bad i couldn't even EDIT this MOSTLY FINISHED CHAPTER. but LOOK! IT'S HERE NOW! and i'm really gonna try to get back on schedule with this story!

also, minor emetophobia CW in this chapter. nothing graphic, though. dart too has emetophobia and he passes the savings on to YOOOOUUUUUuuu!

FILE: TALWAR, D. MEMORY ACCOUNT 0008

 

                The flames died down quickly.

                Not as quickly as they came, but quick enough for me to wonder if a higher power is playing a joke on me right now.

                But of course, that’d be wishful thinking.             

                Rose is at the phone by the door right now, groaning. “Miguel isn’t picking up either… where are they…?”

                And yet, it’d still be much, much more accurate… than what I’m actually thinking is the truth.

                She hangs up the phone, staring bewildered back at the destroyed radio. “I don’t understand. H-how did that happen?”

                What’s not fair is I didn’t feel anything. Nothing! My head wasn’t hot, I wasn’t mad, but…

                “It had to be me,” I croak. “I’m the only one who… who could’ve…”

                … Who could’ve just blown our chances of getting someone qualified out here in a reasonable timeframe? Yeah, but that’s a mouthful.

                “But that’s…” Rose’s face contorts in confusion. “Nay, thou shouldst have control over thy pyrokinesis! That’s how it works, it…” She trails off, wringing her hands. My jaw clenches.

                “Did you feel anything else before the radio caught alight? Like… like…”

                But now, though, I can feel it. Now my face burns, and now I’m not thinking anything except getting anything I can think of to say out as fast as possible. Again.

                “Like what?” I snap, whirling on her.

                “Like me not being in control of my brand-spanking-new psychic powers? Completely possible! I’ve been worrying about that since the get-go! But you told me that my ‘subconscious’ would take care of it, Rose!” I shout. “And you LIED!”

                So that was loud.

                Rose stares wide-eyed back at me, and it’s only then I notice the same heat I felt the first day of summer school. And as soon as I notice it, with Rose standing in front of me, it shrinks like a snowball on the grill.

                … So why… didn’t I notice it just now? Why did I let the radio blow up like that? And why do I feel like I’m in any position to yell at her about this?

                It’s my fault. Again. I’m so sick of it being my fault.

                I rub my arm, grimacing at my feet. “I’m sorry.”

                “It…” Rose stumbles over her words, desperate to make me feel better for some reason. “It’s okay, Dart. You have still done so much!”

                She says, “The Psychonauts are coming, and I could not have summoned them myself! Who knows how this would have gone… w-without thee.”

                And she says, “… Thou didst thy best.”

                In the next instant, I stop feeling sorry for myself all at once.

                Something inside me… snaps.

                Nope.

                I straighten up, spin around, and sprint out of the room.

                “Dart?”

                I race straight toward the nearest stairwell. I don’t think. I’m just going. I pause for a moment to shove the doors open as Rose comes after me.

                “Where are you going?!” She calls out.

                That gets me to stop. Right at the landing, I look back as Rose squeezes in through the closing doors. She looks desperate.

                “… Where d’you think?”

                She doesn’t respond, so I keep going:

                “Rose, the Psychonauts are coming. But they’re not gonna be here in time. The hivemind is falling apart, Xander is planning something even more horrible than what he’s already done, and my brother and all those other nerds are all alone…” I shake my head. “… t-together in there!”

                As I go on, Rose face softens in… I think it’s… wonder?

                “We don’t have time to wait with. We don’t have time to get backup- wherever it is. It’s just you and me now.”

                I can’t believe what I’m saying. A second ago Rose was basically giving me the okay to tap out. But I can’t tap out. Unsurely, Rose joins me at the stairs.

                “So… art we now Team Alfa…?”

                I snort. “Yeesh, and raise everyone’s expectations? We’re definitely still the B Team.” I turn to face the dim stairwell, hand gripping the rail.

                “But it’s the call. R-right?” My voice wavers pathetically, and yet…

                “Someone has to answer.”

                I bound down the stairs for the exit.

                Rose runs to catch up.

 

                I’m driving. Biking. Dunno why! I guess I got there first. I barely touch the pedals as we fly down quiet Shakestone streets, right back toward my house.

                Rose has her arms wrapped around me. I can’t remember if I did the same thing when I rode on the back of this wack contraption, but I sincerely doubt it would’ve made her feel the way I do right now.

                And it makes me feel… worried. About us. Of course, by now, I know why that is.

                I sorta wring my hands on the handlebars, tossing words around without actually forming sentences before I try to talk.

                “Rose… I’m sorry. About the radio,” I finally say. “I didn’t even… feel it.”

                Rose hums gently in response. “I believe thee. When yon radio erupted I knew quickly things not right were afoot. If thou sayest thou felt not, then we two know t’was not simple carelessness at play. Many things are unexplained of late. It simply joins the ranks, I say.”

                I of course know that that’s all just a long-winded attempt to make me feel better. But I like it more than her being mad at me.

                “I’m sorry too.”

                I blink. That part I didn’t expect. She’s sorry? I glance back and her brow is furrowed.

                “I must admit… back there, I thought thou wouldst choose to quit. Give up. Foolish, me.”

                I swallow hard. It’s a relief to hear that, but I didn’t even know I needed it.

                “I grew so used to it being only me.” She pauses, clears her throat. “… O-on this case, that is. But… it is just us… isn’t it?”

                She wraps her arms around me a little tighter. I don’t say anything else after that. Don’t have to. It is just us.

                The whole town seems quiet right now; like it knows what’s going down. Rose’s bike does half the work as I turn the corner. This is where it lives, actually; Rose’s street. She looks up calmly as her house approaches ahead.

                “Ah, mine parents beeth home,” she murmurs. Then she reaches one hand out toward the weird dial-bell on the left handle.

                I barely get to say, “um,” before she twists the bell. I never bothered looking up close before but there’re three pictures under the glass top. She cranks the top around from “bewildered green dude” to “guy sitting on arrow” to “vanishing man.”

                And she rings it.

                In the next instant, her hand is gone. Her arm around me is gone. The bike is gone. I’m gone.

                Me, Rose and the bike are all still there and still speeding along, but we’ve all just turned completely invisible.

                I grip the handles tighter, tensing up. “WaaAAH, ROOOSE…?!”

                “Continue forth!” She cheers. “Nothing shall stop us now!”

                We fly by the pharmacy and Rose’s house in a blink, the subtle warping of air beneath me my only beacon of hope. This is just so dangerous.

                “I swear, Rose, if we crash and die, I’m killing you.”

                “She cannot crash, friend, thou knowest this!” She laughs. “I have wished so long for a reason to use that!”

                “… You’re enjoying this, huh?”

                “Yes!”

                I shake my head, biting back a smirk. Great. I can’t even wanna be mad.

                Let’s hit that centipede-infested van.

 

                The bike turns visible again and I sigh in relief as my house comes into view. The bike hops the curb on its own and I steer right down the alley into the backyard.

                The canal is a few yards ahead, and I think we’ve taken this bike as far as it’ll go.

                “Slow not,” Rose says. “Forget this bicycle in the grass.”

                Okay, getting mixed messages here. Rose may be nuts enough to ditch a moving bicycle, but I’m not.

                Oh my god she’s actually doing it.

                “Whoa!” I exclaim as Rose leaps off the back of the still-moving bike, into the grass, and hits the ground already running.

                I brake hard just short of the sea of unbikeable weeds, bouncing forward. I clumsily dismount the bike before carefully lowering it into the tall grass like she instructed. I frown. I dunno, it’s a little sketchy. Couldn’t we lock it up?

                “You sure about the bike?” I call as she dashes toward the canal.

                “Leave it! T’will be fine!” She leaps down in and runs across. “We have not time to wait with!”

                I shrug, give one last glance back at the bike hidden in the weeds, and run after her.

 

                In the sunlight, it’s nice to navigate this place and not trip over rocks and roots the whole way. The van is still there in the trees, just as we left it, just as I’ve always left it. Rusted. Overgrown. A creepy van in the woods.

                I approach it, even more cautiously than I had last night. There’s something in here we hadn’t bothered to check for last night. The voice on the radio seemed desperate to get us here, right before… y’know.

                Who knows what’s waiting inside. It might be a huge trap.

                Putting my hands on the rusted handles, I sigh. “What’re the chances there’s an angry black bear beyond these doors?”

                “There beeth a small chance of bear attack in all scenarios!” Rose helpfully replies.

                “… Yeah, I guess that’s the answer to that question.”

                Holding my breath, squeezing my eyes shut, I pull the rear doors open.

                And when I crack an eye open and the bugs and moths scatter out of the cabin, I bear witness to the secret the van has been holding all this time. Right by the front seats. A pure white, smooth shape that glints as the light from outside hits it. This is it. What the voice on the radio wanted us to see.

                Fam.

                This is a toilet.

                I squint. “That’s… not… what I expected.”

                A hawk cries above.

                “It’s what I expected,” Rose says.

                “… You’re lying to me,” I say.

                “Yes,” Rose says.

                Then, in the darkness of the windowless cabin, there’s a green flash. Not a big one, not from anything psychic- which I guess I’m just used to now- but like from a small, hidden LED. Hidden, specifically, right behind the toilet.

                I think I’m seeing things, but the green light flashes again. Looks like it’s been going on like this for some time.

                My brow knits and I sigh. Oof course the most interesting thing here is behind the filthy toilet. Flapping my hands and grimacing, I approach crouch between the toilet and the wall, and peer behind the tank.

                There, attached to the side of the tank, is a small, complicated looking- in components more than interface- device. Unsure, I pull on it. It detaches from the porcelain easily, still attached behind the toilet by wires I can’t see the connection points to.

                The first thing I notice besides the simple button interface is the code on the screen.

                0-0-0-3 T-V. I raise a brow.

                “What is this…?”

                “What see you?”

                “I dunno. Take a look.”

                I raise it up for Rose to see, careful not to tug too hard, and we study it together. I flip it over to check the back.

                First of all, there’s a lotta writings engraved in the plastic that even my youthful baby eyes would need a magnifying glass for- warnings and legalese and such. But a quarter of it is taken up by a simple, white-painted illustration.

                An outline of a man and a full silhouette of a man. The two separated by a wall.

                Wait.

                We already know what this is. Don’t we?

                “Nobody wants to look at the back of a toilet,” he’d said last night. “Much less touch it.”

                “Telly back to the lab.”

                It hits Rose the same time it hits me.

                “It beeth…”

                “A teleporter.”

                I really shouldn’t. But I do anyway.

                “… A toiletporter.”

                Rose frowns. “Dart please.”

                “He’s been teleporting. ‘Course. His weird lab must not be in town. It must be huge.”

                After a beat, I deflate, whimpering. “Of course it had to be teleportation. Toilet-based teleportation. But if it’s our quickest way of getting there…”

                I trail off to take in the questionable teleporter when a thought occurs. I don’t know why, and yes, it’s stupid, and I can’t believe you’re making me think about it, etc, and maybe I’ve just been watching too many sci-fi movies, but…

                I think I’d feel more comfortable using this thing under at least one condition.

                “Can I…”

                Good grief this is dumb. “Hold your hand?”

                Rose’s face lights up. “Huh??”

                I physically restrain myself from flinching. Jeez why’d I say that it already burns but hey can’t take it back now!

                “W-well, I. Don’t really know how teleporting works,” I scramble. “But, uh, isn’t it wacky? Physics-wise? What if we aren’t touching when we teleport and our atoms get. Scrambled. Or something? L-like in the movies?”

                Rose grins squintily. When I’m done, she nods. “Ay, thy reason flies true. Let us join hands.”

                Swallowing, I reach out and Rose laces her fingers into mine.

                “… Alright.” I hold the teleport, desperate not to touch too much toilet while I’m at it. “You ready?”

                Rose nods, and I click the button.

                …

                Nothin’ happens.

                My shut eyes slowly open. “Um.”

                I click it a few more times, probably too haphazardly for the whole matter-transference situation I’m in right now. The green light flashes each time, but that’s it. “Why’s it not…”

                As I fiddle with the device, Rose raises a brow and studies the toilet. I, like a money, smack the side of the device hoping that’ll fix it.

                “How’s this thing work?” I mumble.

                As I start to seriously worry that I was wrong and this is not at all a teleporter, Rose, casual as can be, takes a more sensible approach.

                She pushes down the plunger.

                And we’re gone.

 

                Teleported.

                It’s not the grand experience I expected. I release Rose’s hand and wobble dizzily backward, my back hitting a wall.

                Green energy pools around my head. I don’t feel like I’ve been beamed up or bamfed into another place, it felt more like… a fizz? And like being on a boat, suddenly rocked by a wave.

                “Whoooaa, that felt weird,” I groan. “Didn’t like that.”

                Rose shakes off the disorientation. “Ay. T’was odd.”

                I’m leaning against a cold, tiled wall. The bathroom we came out in is roomier than the van we just left, and beside me is a foggy-glassed shower; open wide, sparsely toiletried inside. One loofah, one bar of soap. Shampoo. Hair gel…

                “… Wait.”

                I turn to the sink. Glasses cleaning solution. Orange-bottled medication. Reminder notes on the wall. A cracked mirror.

                On all the towels hanging from the hangy rod on the wall is a small, simple embroidery.

                Two sci-fi swords made of light from some dumb movie forming an X.

                X.

                “This is Schmittlot’s bathroom,” I flatly say, disbelieving where my life has taken me. And I shudder. “Ohhh, gross. Gross-gross-gross! We’re in the villain’s bathroom he probably does weird stuff in here!”

                “N-not even Schmittlot would be foolsome enough t’ house his laboratory at home, would he?” Rose asks, scrutinizing Xander’s creepy shampoo and whatnot.

                “I dunno,” I groan.

                “I suppose if he were, he’d be upon us already.” She turns to the door. It’s wide open, and the carpeted, stripe-walled hallway is dark outside.

                We stare out into it for a minute, wondering how to proceed.

                Screw it. No sense beatin’ around the bush.

                “’EY, SCHMITTLOT!” I roar into the hallway. Rose flinches, throwing her hands over her mouth. “YA HERE?!”

                …

                I’m met with silence.

                Lots of it.

                Hands on hips, I spin to face the wide-eyed Rose. “Okay, let’s get the heck outta here, this place freaks me out. Hopefully it’ll take us somewhere else.”

                Rose quietly shakes her head, but she holds out her hand. I take it, she flushes the toilet and I click the teleport button.

                And we’re off.

 

                Now we’re in an outhouse. Features: it absolutely reeks. No further features.

                After the psychic energy clears and I apologize for stepping on Rose’s foot, I’m struck with a more powerful wave of nausea. It strikes Rose, too.

                “Th-that one was worse…”

                “Yes…” She murmurs. “That was a farther jump, methinks…”

                Yeah, and my ears just popped. Lower elevation, maybe? Just how far did we just go?

                “Let’s hope there aren’t any farther than that.” I put my ear to the rotting wooden door.

                First off, there’s lots of noises out there. Not particularly loud, but lots, and it’s hard to distinguish them at first. But when I hear human voices, the first think my paranoia thinks is somehow, they’re more victims of Schmittlot’s. In immediate danger. It makes me want to bust out and kick ass.

                I push the door open, just enough to peek out and do a preliminary scan of the area before I bust out and kick ass. “Okay, let’s—”

                Considering my preliminary scan, I deduce that the best course of action is to calmly and decisively retreat back into the bog and slam the door shut as fast as possible. Rose stares at me.

                “Yeah, I’ll call this one, this ain’t the place,” I say, scratching the back of my neck and trying not to gag at the smell in here. I’d say that being so close to Rose makes it easier to cope with, but this is a toilet and I’m not a loser so I’m not saying that.

                Oh yeah also there’s a bunch of kids outside.

                “Wherefore?”

                “It’s a camp,” I explain. Yeah, there’s also a camp outside.

                A worn dirt path carved through grass, a round, cracked parking lot at the foot of the hill, fences all around, and lots of kids in the same yellow shirt. The scent of awkwardness and bug spray in the air.

                “A camp…? Could the laboratory be in such a place?”

                “No, I mean like a camp-camp. A summer camp.” I scan the door for locking mechanisms. No dice. No lock, either. “There’s a million kids out there and no labs.”

                She narrows her eyes, trying to pick something out of the summer fun outside. Oh, to be one of those guys, having fun outside and not having to deal with all this kidnapping brain-stealing bullcrap.

                “Why would Schmittlot set a teleportation checkpoint to a children’s summer camp…?” She murmurs suspiciously.

                “That’s a great question, and frankly, the dude creeps me out more with every passing moment.” I lean on the outhouse’s creaking wall. And I didn’t even know there was a summer camp in the vague vicinity of Shakestone. “But we can’t stick around to find out. Our main priority should be finding the lab.”

                “Right, thou.” Rose nods. She sets her hand on my shoulder. “Next toilet?”

                “Next toilet.”

 

                Next toilet.

                There’s a sudden, strong gust of air. And there’s a stumble on uneven, broken ground that sends me off my feet and onto concrete.

                And then the nausea hits me. I double over.

                “Pl-please don’t puke,” I whine to myself, clutching my stomach. “Please. I’ve been so nice to you.”

                “What lovely architecture this was,” Rose shakily murmurs.

                “Okay, maybe I haven’t been nice. But I will be. If you don’t puke.”

                I lift my head for fresh air to calm my turbulent insides, but I freeze. It’s not just the ground that’s broken.

                I’m kneeling in the middle of a sea of concrete wreckage. Concrete and metal, broken furniture, warped pipes, sheets and curtains long-since burnt to a crisp.

                A large doorless doorway sits threatening to collapse completely, and a massive structure, cylindrical, lies on its side a hundred feet away. There are pieces of it… basically everywhere. Total devastation.

                “Y-yeah…” I slowly pull myself up. “Was. What the heck happened here?”

                I turn around. Beyond the semi-crushed walls of the maybe-former-courtyard, I think there’s a lake. I don’t think it’s the one I go to with Mom and Ang. I can feel it- there’s not a single soul around besides Rose and me.

                She side-eyes a pipe leaking disgusting green fluid and frowns. “I know not.”

                “I mean, this is ridiculous,” I laugh. “Just what was this nutcase doing? A summer camp, and now this like… junkyard?” I crouch beside the toilets, sneering at the pipes. All disconnected.

                “Look, this toilet isn’t even connected. Can we even teleport from—?”

                Hold the ding-dang phone.

                For the first time, I bother paying attention to the teleporter’s display screen. I grab it, holding it right up to my eyeballs.

                0-0-0-7 A-A. It’d said 0-0-0-3 T-V in the van. T-V’s gotta stand for the van and A-A must stand for…

                Abandoned… awful-gross-place?

                I press the up-down arrows on the device rapidly, flicking through codes. 0-0-0-4 S-B, 0-0-0-6 W-R, 0-0-0-2 X-B… I know what these codes are for.

                Coordinates.

                “Ohhh, my god.”

                “What?”

                “Y’know there’re preset coordinates saved on this thing?” I slap the toilet tank with my bare hand, immediately regretting this. “We’ve just been hopping around on random. Here, look.”

                She comes to crouch beside me. I click through the presets, searching for something interesting before stopping on one.

                “0-0-0-5 L-B, that’s gotta stand for ‘lab,’ right?”

                “Ah!” Rose claps. “So clever, thou!”

                I snort and grin. Not the word I would’ve thought up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

                “Ay, we will be finding the heads at the laboratory!” She cheers as if that was not the worst thing I’ve ever heard and that I can believe she said that.

                But seriously that was the worst thing I’ve ever heard and I can’t believe she said that. “… You gave me crap for the ‘toiletporter’ thing—”

                “Let us be off! We have not time to waste!” Rose says, reaching for the toilet’s disgusting plunger.

                “Nay, we haven’t.”

                Smiling, I click down the button. The light flashes green, and in a second, we’re teleported off in one last graceful attempt to find the lab.

 

                And we forgot to hold hands.

                The teleport is less like a fizz and more like an explosion.

                Suddenly in a brand new place with a brand new windspeed at a brand new elevation and popping in my ears, I yelp and stumble backward, hands blindly flailing for purchase somewhere I haven’t even visually processed yet.

                I pull down that purchase with me, I’m met with the distinctly horrible sensation of falling farther than where I was standing. Straight down two steps as it clicks that what I just grabbed onto was Rose’s vest.

                So, also, Rose.

                Rose comes crashing- also yelping- down on me as I hit the grassy ground, our foreheads almost knocking together like the stooges we are. She splays out on top of me as I lie bewildered, before getting her bearings enough to push herself up onto her hands.

                Her eyes are wide as she stares at me, surprised as I am by the total lack of grace that was that last jump. Was it because we weren’t touching? I mean, I thought it’d be a bad idea, but not that bad! I mostly just wanted to hold her hand because I… wanted to hold her hand.

                … I’m still holding onto her vest.

                My mind races as she doesn’t make a move to, y’know, move. I’m not complaining about having her this close though even though I should be I just like seeing her face you know? And I’m almost tempted not to block out her empathic mind as it reaches out even though that’s a horrible idea and my stomach is turning and oh god wait that’s just because I’m about to be extremely sick.

                Gasping inwardly, fist to mouth, I shove Rose- eyes widening as she realizes what’s coming- off me and scramble backward. I roll onto my hands and knees. If I’m grateful for one thing, it’s that I got away from moon girl in time.

                Because it happens.

                I will spare us the details.

                “Oh, Dart, I’m sorry…” Rose sighs, voice oozing with pity.

                I whimper back, shuddering. I’m in Hell. This is it. This is by far the worst thing that’s happened to me or anyone else in the past three days.

                A hand touches my back. It’s Rose’s, and it gently rubs my back while I try to catch my breath. … Alright, maybe not the worst.

                “That… must’ve been… farther. S-sorry you, uh, had t-to see that…”

                She pulls the tail of my hat out of the danger zone and warmly hums, “My fool. Fuss not for me. Such things disturb me not.”

                Did she just call me… her fool? As in, I’m hers? Scratch everything, I’ve never forgotten so quickly that I just expelled my guts.

                Rose straightens up. She makes a noise like she’s just seen something vaguely interesting and rises to her feet.

                “If it helps,” she says. “T’would appear we’ve happened upon yon laboratory.”

                My tightly-squeezed eyes snap open. I shoot up, searching for something lab-like.

                This is not hard.

                First off, as I look around for the first time, I see we’re situated on top of a high, steep, treeless hill. But more importantly, several meters ahead, miraculously shielded from my perception cone until now, looms a brick building. Towering and wide. It must’ve been a warehouse or factory at some point, but now it’s in ruins. Vines climb the walls, slipping in and out of the high windows, none of which aren’t broken.

                Like a bunch of intimidating sore thumbs, several brand new metal pipes jut out of these windows. A large power generator sits beside the warehouse, feeding lines in through the wall, and seems active. Whatever’s going on in there… is a big operation.

                “Uh, yeah,” I reply. “T’would.”

                I stand up, head still swimming. The wind is billowing. I wrap my hat around me like a scarf so I don’t lose it down this…

                Very high hill.

                “Whoa.” Though there’s no real danger of tumbling down either side, my knees wobble.

                Down one side is a massive valley. Surrounded on all sides by steep hills are smaller mounds and sprawling pine forests, all leading down to a lake that fades out into the fog. And it’s distant, but I think I can make out structures in the forest too. It must be the camp. It’s the only place that would’ve been close enough.

                “Dart, look.”

                Rose gazes down the other side, and I look. It ain’t hard to realize what’s there. It’s Shakestone.

                We’re on top of Shakestone’s mountain, just a bit up the hill from one of the highest structures in town. Past a thick pine forest, I can see the back of a stocky, square building sitting on a cliff at the top of a road. A flagpole stands in its front yard, and…

                Hold up. I know exactly what that is.

                “Isn’t… that…?”

                “Our school,” Rose confirms.

                I don’t believe it. We’re right there.

                I always knew there was some old building up here behind the trees- at the right angle, with the trees swaying, you could pick out its highest points. But the forest was always way too steep and dense to climb, so none of us ever went up there to check it out.

                Never in a million years would I have guessed this.

                I roll my eyes. “Gotta say. His must be the size of bowling balls.”

                Rose blinks in confusion as I move past her, toward the warped front doors of the warehouse.

                “His… what?”

                And so, she and I silently creep inside and find ourselves in an empty lobby-type room, stripped of furniture, light fixtures, wire, and most of the paint. Just as well. It was probably lead-based. Daylight streams in through the broken windows and dust clouds, illuminating the room.

                At the other end is the door to the inner warehouse.

                The lab must be right through there.

                “Before I open this…” I hesitantly glance back. “I don’t suppose you sense any Schmittlot-like feelings, do ya?”

                I stop. “Rose?”

                Her head is bowed, one hand to her forehead like she has a migraine. I reach out on instinct, grabbing her shoulder. “Y-you okay—?”

                “I feel them again. Strongly. They’re… close.”

                She opens an eye, looking toward the door.

                “But… I-I sense not Schmittlot. Not very near, at least.”

                I stopped listening once she said they were close.

                Without hesitation, I turn to the inner door and shove it open.

                Inside is a dusty room, worse-lit than the lobby, and with rafters, warped shelves. Machinery and old furniture piled up in corners and in random places throughout the former warehouse floor. I think rats skitter through the shadows. But from the rising sun barely angling through the high windows, I can’t make out much that isn’t… well.

                That.

                In the center of the warehouse. A giant, spherical tank. Gianter than the last one we’d seen. Held by a metal base, janky tubes feeding into it from above. A rusted metal staircase leads to its lid. Nearby is a console with an array of scans, but they don’t catch my eye for an instant before I double-take what’s in the tank.

                It’s brains, you guys. Twice as many as before. Six. And I take a deep, deep breath.

                That’s…

                Everyone.

                “Finally…” Rose whispers.

                Yeah, finally. We did it.

                I open my mouth to respond, but don’t get far before the sight of the brains doubles me over, clutching my stomach, holding a fist to my mouth, and BOY, is THIS familiar!

                “Are you—”

                I put up a hand to stop her. “No. No, I think I’m done yartzing for now.”

                I stand up, willing my insides to steady.

                “It’s them. We…”

                I race toward the tank. Disgusted as I am, I’m way more… ecstatic. Or anxious. Or furious or something, I dunno.

                “We have to get them outta there!”

                I’ve barely made it a quarter of the way when Rose gasps.

                “Dart!”

                I stumble to a stop, whirling around. “What, what?”

                Her hands are at her temples.

                “There’s a Schmittlot-like feeling.”

                She stiffly looks toward a set of double doors at the rear of the warehouse floor.

                “… Very near.”

                I suck in air through my teeth. The smart thing would be to gun it for the nearest hiding spot, but my whole body tenses up.

                … And then we hear a shout from beyond the doors.

                “HIVE!”

                Scrambling, Rose and I do our best to contain our yelps of fear and gun it for the nearest hiding spot- which right now is the shell of some machine, stripped of parts and left to do nothing but cast convenient shadows.

                I slide on my knees as I drop behind it and Rose gracefully drops down beside me. Not a second later, the doors burst open.

                I cautiously peer through the gaps in machinery as Xander Schmittlot storms into the room.

                “That chamber was for WORST CASE SCENARIOS! You know that!” He exclaims, pointing wildly toward the doors he’d entered through before they even close.

                “WHAT am I supposed to DO about THAT?! Wh—I-I’m half-tempted to call the FIRE MARSHAL!”

                In reply, a burbling sound comes from the Hive, like the one we’d heard in the woods.

                “I don’t know. I’m stressed out.”

                It makes me realize how familiar this is. And what I should’ve done last time.

                Bust out and kick Xander’s bastard ass.

                “Ugh, forget this. We can take him—” I hiss through gritted teeth, my body moving on its own. But Rose firmly grabs me, pulling me back down before I can do anything idiotic.

                “Nay!” She whispers. “He cannot know we are here.”

                “He’s a psychic!” I argue. “Wouldn’t he already know?”

                Across the floor, Xander groans, “I should’ve known better than to leave you unsupervised…”

                “He’d have to be searching,” Rose reasons. “Please, just wait ‘till he goeth away. We shall retrieve the brains without the madman over yonder knowing what hit him.”

                Sighing, I try to calm myself. My hands twitch, wanting to strangle or punch lights out or who knows what, but I restrain myself. This guy stole my brother. But that’s exactly why I need to hold back, long enough to get him back. If that’s what Rose thinks is right, I trust her. I’m not messing this up again.

                “T-tell me, Hive,” Schmittlot is saying, hands on hips. “Why does the Psychoisolation chamber look like that right now?”

                Psychoisolation…?

                The Hive responds, and Xander shakes his head, baffled.

                “Psych—no.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, but see, the Psychonauts aren’t coming. We will not be seeing the Psychonauts. Forget about them.”

                The Hive fires right back. What I wouldn’t give to have both sides of this conversation right now.

                “Please, how am I the bad guy here?” He snaps. “You’re being so childish! Th-that in there is what I’d call an overreaction!”

                The last of the echoes of his voice have time to fade out and then some before they say anything back. And whatever it is… sucks the pissed-off-mom annoyance right out of him. His arms drop out of their fold. His face falls.

                “… What, you think I…” He starts quietly. “… I was gonna put you in there?”

                Another response. A short one.

                Xander snarls. He’s in an emotional rollercoaster, and this hill isn’t “annoyed-mom,” it’s more…

                Contained rage.

                “I can’t believe you,” he hisses. He stalks to the center of the floor, glaring down the tank. “Just remember, there’s a reason you’re in that tank! Who put you in there? I did!”

                I dig my nails into my knees. It’s getting really hard not to beat the tar out of him. I think Rose knows that, because she puts a hand on my shoulder, narrowing her eyes at Schmittlot.

                But I’m not the only one getting pissed here.

                He puffs out his chest and dramatically points his finger at the tank. “S-so just let that sink in when I tell you that- that this behavior is WAY out of—!”

                The Hive is pissed too. As he spoke, the glow in their tank pulsed brighter and brighter.

                And in the next second, one of the towering, rusted shelves wobbles where it stands…

                And CRASHES to the floor. Me, Rose and Schmitt all jump and I bite back a gasp.

                He whirls to face the shelf lying across the warehouse floor, meager contents still scattering, the echo still booming in our ears.

                “… line,” he croaks.

                It doesn’t stop there.

                The dust has barely settled before two giant psychic projections of hands appear on either side of the glowing tank. They’re constantly flickering in hue, and they don’t even seem as… static in shape as any other PSI-hand I’ve seen. It might be because they’re ten times as big as mine. Either of them could probably crush me entirely.

                Almost to cement that point, they both reach out and grab either end of the twisted shelf on the ground. And they bend it. The metal screeches horrifically as it bends and scrapes horrifically as it grinds across the floor.

                Rose whines, putting her hands over her ears.

                Schmittlot, on the other hand, is slightly more concerned. He tenses up, bringing his fists close to his chest, as the metal of the destroyed shelf bows around either side of him.

                “… What’re you doing…?”

                The tank doesn’t “speak” again. It’s silent as its hands near-effortlessly box him in. Coiling the metal around him like a snake, threatening to crush his twig-like body. Rungs pop out of their places and turn into rusted spears jutting inward.

                He stumbles backward, stammering, pressing himself against one side of the slowly-closing circle and holding out one hand like that’d do anything.

                I hold my breath, frozen. They’re… they’re not really gonna…?

                “O… okay. Okay, Hive—Hive, st-stop!” He shouts. “Th-that’s enough!”

                His outburst is enough to get them to pause.

                He swallows hard, trembling slightly, as the brains in the tank all “look” at him, like they’re waiting for him to give a good reason not to crush his nerd ass.

                “W-we’re… we’re friends, right?” He shakily says. “I’m your friend! Right?”

                It’s a while before the Hive “says” something back, calming down a bit.

                Right, I almost hear.

                He goes on, eyes narrowing slightly, “I… came up with the plan… right?”

                Right.

                “You don’t want to hurt me.”

                No.

                Just like that, gingerly, the multicolored PSI- hand lifts the coiled metal up, away from Xander, and it crashes down loudly behind him.

                Xander sighs, relieved, as the glow in the tank dies back down. They have no face, but they just seem… defeated. My heart sinks. They had ‘im on the ropes. So why didn’t they go for it? Just what kind of hold does he have on them?

                What has he done?

                “Good.”

                He nervously paces. “N-now… let me just figure out what to do about that…” He sighs, arm again gesturing wearily toward the doors he’d come through.

                He peers back at the twisted shelf, slumping. “… And that…”

                He wanders toward the warehouse lobby, scratching his head, deep in his own thoughts and seeming to talk to himself more than the Hive.

                “A-and while I’m out I might as well take care of the bod—”

                The Hive “speaks” again.

                I wasn’t expecting it to, and I don’t think Xander was either, ‘cause he dead stops halfway to the exit, the last squeak of his dumb shoes echoing across the floor.

                The silence that follows is kinda suffocating. He doesn’t move.

                All there is to hear is the quiet beeping of the console and the wind outside.

                “Yes,” he finally says.

                “’Course. Of course I’m going to.”

                There is something very unnerving about his tone.

                “… Why wouldn’t I?”

                Without another word, without stopping for a second, Xander heads straight for the front door, shoves it open, and leaves the warehouse.

                The old, creaking door slams shut behind him.

Notes:

THE ANSWER IS YES THE ONLY REASON I MADE XANDER'S TELEPORTATION CHECKPOINTS TOILETS IS SO THAT I COULD WORK IN THE REFERENCE JOKE TO THE FINAL CUTSCENE OF PSYCHONAUTS DO NOT EVEN / A S K / ME YOU KNOW IT'S THE TRUTH DO NOT ASK ME.

(but also there are plot reasons for xander having checkpoints there you can probably guess though)