#Agent Morris

[paperbooart]

sketches from a couple different newsies productions

[ottoslab]

similarly composed psychonauts doodles, one of Raz n some interns trading pins and one future AU team getting their asses thrown around on a mission

[dropoutconfessions]

as much as i loved never stop blowing up, i was really disappointed by the agent halldwell pissing himself thing.

like i get that it was over the top and extreme to make it funny but like. the base of the joke is that a dude can’t stop peeing on himself and for a show that often talks about how inclusive and diverse it is it just sat really grossly with me because incontinence is a real thing that is so stigmatized.

idk i know im being kinda a snowflake about this but sometimes i have a hard time with d20 just because they promote such inclusive vibe but they are not immune to punching down in the name of comedy in some kinda gross ways

-

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 01: Race Against the Clock

Search Party

3487 Words; Ouroboros

TW for mentions of bloodsport

AO3 ver

The door slid open, and Norma immediately had to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose and groan.

Arrayed throughout the room were the other junior agents. Gisu was at the computer, Lizzie standing beside her, and she hurried to minimize whatever she had pulled up on the screen the moment she caught sight of Norma. Raz and Adam were over with Morris by a box of paper records, and Sam was sitting on an old office chair in the corner, leaning over the back.

“So.” Norma put on an unimpressed expression and crossed her arms at the sight before her. Her fellow junior agents all wore varying expressions of sheepishness, which made her eyes narrow a fraction in irritation. “Why are all of you digging through confidential files?” Norma frowned as her voice came out higher than she wanted it, tinged with an emotion she couldn’t quite define as opposed to the level tone she had been aiming for. Hollis always made catching someone doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing look so cool; Norma felt awkward in comparison.

“No reason.” Raz’ face was pure innocence, hands folded in his lap like he hadn’t just been digging through the files of the box he was currently sitting on barely a second ago.

“Who said anything about confidential?” Lizzie challenged, affecting a casual air as she stared Norma down.

“Yeah,” Morris added, “Maybe we’re just grabbing a file for our mentors.” It was the weakest excuse Norma had ever heard from him—and she’d heard plenty of stinkers when he’d been dancing around the pirate radio station he thought he was hiding.

“Rrright.” Norma drawled, not buying it for a second. “All of your mentors, at the same time, sent you to look through files—most of which are confidential—to grab a file they could undoubtedly find for themselves in half the time?” Some part of her reveled in the way Gisu and Adam winced at her words—another part of her balked at the fact that Morris and Raz weren’t. Lizzie remained as collected as ever, and Sam… well, okay, Norma didn’t think she could ever make Sam wince.

Morris nodded. “Well, we weren’t all told to go look at the same time,” he explained, “but we all figured it would go faster if we worked together.” He sounded so confident, not stumbling over his words at all—Norma might have even believed the lie, if she hadn’t seen what Gisu and Lizzie had been looking at before Gisu minimized the file.

Adam nodded along. “Yeah, nothing to worry about.” He added, and Raz nodded along with him. He really was just a kid—discomfort pricked in Norma’s chest at the reminder.

Norma’s eyes narrowed. She stalked forwards, coming to a stop just beside Gisu and reaching for the mouse—

Lizzie’s hand was cold against her wrist, as it always was. Norma turned her ire to her sister—Lizzie’s eyes widened as she realized what she had just done, and what that action revealed.

Norma cleared her throat, carefully grabbed Lizzie’s arm with her free hand and freed her wrist, and then re-opened the file. Instead of perhaps the more innocuous mission report or amusing snide email chain, the file played across the screen detailed a mission that was ongoing—and more importantly, incredibly off-limits to anyone not a senior agent.

“I’m not stupid.” She said, glancing around at the room. Expressions varied, but it was clear—Norma had caught them in the act, and they all knew it.

Gisu threw her head back with a groan. “We were just looking!” She protested, wrestling the mouse back from Norma. “You don’t have to be so smug about it!”

Norma balked—she was not smug! “I’m not—” She started, only to pause and rethink. Recent… actions of hers still weighed in her mind. As much as she hated to admit it, some part of her was smug at catching them in the act. But another part of her that had been much larger as of late had her biting her lip, fingers twitching with what wasn’t quite frustration and what wasn’t quite dread. Fire itched in her brain, that sharp voice of reason in her head hissing at her to step back and think.

“Well, whatever.” Lizzie scoffed. “We can’t go anywhere with this, anyway.” Something in her tone implied that Norma was the one stopping them—or maybe Norma was just being paranoid. Still, she stepped back, regarding them all with a critical eye. Raz especially was obvious—how did she ever think he was the mole—frustration clear in his expression as his shoulders hunched. Norma could have laughed. Of course. Of course, they had all cooked up a plan to do something stupid and then went out of their way to exclude her—because of course they would, because who would ever want to talk to or work with a proven, snobby, snitch?

None of them needed to say it. Norma didn’t even need to be psychic to understand the shared thought in the room. They all wanted to do something… more. More interesting. More useful. More dangerous. More exciting. More like what they all imagined being a Psychonaut was like—and less menial.

Norma… she could never admit it, of course, because there was a method to how agents rose in the ranks and reckless self-endangerment wasn’t it, the voice in her head that often tended to have some degree of sense insisted—but some part of her agreed, with the notion that being a junior agent just hadn’t been enough. That she could—that she should—be doing more. Another voice, the same voice that had insisted that of course Raz had to be the mole, and was quite louder than the more sensible voice, agreed.

She looked at the screen again. “What did you even think you could do?” After the Lucktopus stunt, there was no way Hollis was going to clear any of them to go any further beyond the base than the nearest town—it didn’t matter that Hollis was still on vacation; she had passed the notion onto Truman, who was so bogged down with catching up on everything he had missed—and cleaning up the aftermath of the Gulch Incident—that he wasn’t going to approve anything beyond trips to town, either.

“It’s not like we’re gonna do anything dangerous.” Lizzie argued. “We’re just checking a lead that the senior agents are too busy to look at.”

Norma worked her jaw as she searched for what to say. “And how, exactly, did you plan to do that?” The lead Lizzie was referring to was two states away—there was no way for any of them to get there and back without being caught out.

“Ford!” Sam chimed in, before making her chair spin. It creaked ominously.

“Ford?” Norma repeated, incredulous.

“Ford.” Gisu agreed, to complete the bit.

“You’re going to get Ford to teleport you.” Norma confirmed, still not quite believing it. “And how are you going to convince him?”

Adam grabbed Raz by the sides and held him up like a cat. “Our secret weapon.” He said, and Raz beamed.

“Right.” Norma was decided. It was an easy decision, really—at least, easier than it would have been before Raz showed up and recent events—that Norma had played no small part in, to her displeasure. “I guess that’s enough of a plan to work off of, then.” She tried to look as collected as she could. “I’m coming with.”

Sam’s chair gave out with a final protesting groan, sending her clattering to the floor. Everyone stared as she picked herself up, dusted off her skirt, and then stared back at them all blankly.

“Okay…” Adam picked up the thread of the conversation. “Right, then,” he turned to Lizzie and Gisu. “Let’s look at what we know.” Gisu clicked through the files, and everyone crowded around her to peer at the screen. A summary—it appeared to be an investigation into the disappearance of various known psychics and their possible link to—

Norma frowned. “This is pretty serious.” She commented, fire dancing under her skin. A possible fighting ring, among other theories that were tossed around in the text.

“Oh, it gets better.” Gisu said, clicking through and opening a video file. The film was higher-quality than Norma was expecting. The content…

Lizzie and Adam both covered Raz’ eyes with their hands as the body hit the floor. Gisu closed out the video. “Apparently this place is pretty well known if you’re in the right circles.” She explained, flicking through to another file. “The video was recovered on a past mission. This is supposed to be the guy behind it, or something.”

Norma looked at—well, suspect was really the only word, wasn’t it? The picture was clean, professional—it was probably taken for a billboard or business card. The man in the picture had an easy smile, hands crossed over the handle of a suitcase resting on his legs. He looked like a run-of-the-mill CEO.

“And the lead?” Norma asked. She wasn’t sure if it was the heavy watch or the dark suit or if there really was something in the man’s eyes—whatever it was, the photo unsettled her. Not as much as the video, but—the man seemed larger than he really was, a sort of presence oozing from his features that made fire scratch against the inside of her skin.

Gisu pulled up the relevant file. A map.

Norma stared at the location—supposedly, this was a potential entrance to at least one of the rings, assuming there was more than one. It was also ridiculously mundane. “It’s a golf course.” She pointed out. “There’s nothing nearby that could be hiding an illegal fighting ring.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s underground.” Raz pointed out. Norma was once again reminded that oh, yeah, he was ten.

“Wrong kind of underground, Pooter.” Morris pointed out, but Sam was nodding in agreement with Raz, and Adam was looking contemplative.

“If it’s underground, then that might explain why it hasn’t been found yet.” Adam mused. “There aren’t really a whole lot of ways to check below the surface without digging.” He paused, then, “at least, nothing that the Psychonauts have access to.”

“So we’re digging?” Gisu asked.

“Yep.” Lizzie nodded. “We’re digging.”

+=+=+=+=+

A few hours, one guilt-tripped Ford, and two massive teleports later, and they were all standing at the edge of a golf course.

“Soooo now what?” Sam asked, staring out at the greens as though a hole might open up in the ground before them.

“We look around.” Adam suggested. “There’s gotta be an entrance somewhere.”

With no better ideas, everyone sort of slowly split up, poking around for a few hours before reconvening by a small brick building at Morris’ insistence. Norma glanced at the signs over the two doors—restrooms.

“Nobody who’s gone into here has come out.” Morris pointed out, nodding towards the building in question. “And their minds go down before they disappear, too.”

“Ominous.” Norma muttered.

“Maybe there’s a serial killer in there.” Lizzie suggested, jokingly. “Or a vampire.”

“Absolutely not.” Norma groused. “That’s not possible.” She looked back at the plans. “Maybe there’s psychic inhibitors,” she suggested, “and that’s how the minds are ‘disappearing’.”

“Well, it clearly goes somewhere.” Raz pointed out, “or else people would have been coming out.”

“Pooter’s got a point.” Morris said.

“So what, we just… walk in?” Norma asked. “Surely the senior agents have tried that before.” She wasn’t entirely sure what they could do—they were barely even junior agents, and that title really only existed in the first place for Lili.

But oh, she wanted to do something. Fire itched under her skin. She pushed open the door, and walked inside, looking over at two stalls and the row of sinks. “It’s just a bathroom.” And a gross one, at that—it reeked of bleach and floral perfume that was only halfway managing to cover up the other scent permeating the room.

“That door in the back.” Adam stalked forwards and opened it, pausing in surprise at it being unlocked. A musty closet full of cleaning supplies stood before them.

Raz made a face. “You’re sure it’s in here?” He asked.

Morris shrugged. “If you want to keep looking and getting weird looks from golfers, be my guest.”

“Aha!” Adam stepped out of the closet as a previously-undiscovered mechanism activated. A shuddery sort of groan, and then, as Norma peered into the closet, a rush of stale air hit her in the face. An entrance had opened up in the back of the closet, dim red lighting revealing a stairway going down.

“Yeah, that’s gotta be it.” Gisu said.

Sam frowned. “That was really easy.” She pointed out.

“Well,” Adam began, staring at the stairwell to memorize it, “we got information. Now, how do we… get… back…” He trailed off as they all realized that they had no idea how they were going to contact Ford at this distance.

“I say we keep going.” Gisu suggested. “We’ve come this far, we might as well go all the way.”

“We don’t know what’s down there.” Morris said. “The senior agents didn’t find this door, so we’ve already made our contribution.”

“I never took you for a coward, Martinez.” Lizzie commented coolly, as Morris gasped. “We don’t really have a way back. I say we go for it.”

“Yeah!” Raz nodded. “I wanna see what’s down there.”

Adam swallowed, looking to Sam and Norma. Sam shrugged, and Adam turned to Norma.

Norma knew they should just turn back. They’d found the door, they could go home and tell the senior agents and try not to get into any more trouble than they were undoubtedly going to be in when it came out that they snuck off to a golf course two whole states away to try and find an illegal fighting ring linked to the disappearance of countless psychics—

Or they could investigate further. Be the psychonaut agents they were all trying to be, and do more than just finding a door that the senior agents would have undoubtedly found on their own once they had the time to investigate.

Don’t you want to do something impressive? That little voice asked, don’t you want to make up for snitching directly to the mole?

“Just a quick in an out couldn’t hurt, right?” Norma bit her lip as everyone’s attention turned to her. “We leave the moment things go bad.” Their scrutiny felt so heavy, pinning her in place like a bug.

“Well, that’s that.” Lizzie said, sounding faintly… victorious? “You two are outvoted.” Okay, that one was definitely edging into satisfaction.

Whatever. Norma shook her head clear before following after Lizzie and Gisu as they started down the stairs, Raz attempting to cartwheel down in front of them. The hum of Morris’ levball signaled him, Sam, and Adam following down, and the door shut behind them with a sound of stone grinding against stone.

Now we really can’t go back. Norma wasn’t entirely sure who had thought that—maybe it was her own brain suddenly doubting itself. The red lighting was eerie, and as Norma stared down the stairs still laid out before her, some poetic part of her brain likened it to the maw of some great beast.

They continued on, and reached what seemed like the bottom of the stairs, only to find a short stairway leading up. A heavy feeling filled the air as Norma took the first step, like she was suddenly walking through molasses—and then she was through, and the air was… surprisingly clear, for being underground. They continued up for a bit, until the faint thrum of distant noise resolved itself into heavy music and a cacophony of voices. A set of doors stood before them, with various masks hanging up on racks beside the door.

“So we just grab a mask?” Gisu asked, doing exactly that.

“Maybe we should turn back.” Adam suggested, looking over the mask he grabbed. The grinning face stared up at him.

“I wanna see where this leads.” Lizzie argued, already putting on a purple mask she had found. One by one, they all masked up, faces hidden behind grinning facsimiles.

“Okay.” Adam said. “If we’re really doing this… we need some kind of escape plan.” He looked at each of them, exaggerating the turn of his head to make up for how the mask hid his expression. “The moment things get too hectic, we leave, okay?”

There was muttered agreement, and then they opened the door.

The first thing to really hit Norma was loud. Loud, hot, and sweaty—people in masks of various designs were mingling all over… it wasn’t quite a dance floor, wasn’t quite a ball room—if anything, it looked like a warehouse space, with a ceiling high above lit with dim colored lighting. Small tables of refreshments dotted the space, and TV screens were all over—all showing the same “waiting” screen with occasional flashes of ads.

The seven of them slowly spread out, unsure of what they were really doing. Raz ended up sticking with Adam and Gisu, while Morris trailed after a wandering Sam. And Lizzie…

Norma followed after her sister as she made her way towards a side door. On the way, she picked up bits and pieces of passing thoughts.

death pit is tonight

ugh, is she really wearing THAT

when does the fight start

it’s gonna be the lion again

Norma would have loved to have stopped and listened in greater detail, piecing together the greater image—but Lizzie was moving with purpose to a seemingly unattended side door, and ducked into a hallway without a single word.

Norms, Lizzie’s thoughts trickled into Norma’s mind like meltwater down a glacier, do you think you can act as lookout?

Norma frowned as Lizzie came to a stop in front of a door. The hallway they were in was much quieter than the party, with nobody in sight. Everything about the place screamed off-limits—so of course Lizzie had marked it as a place of interest for their investigation.

“Fine.” Norma muttered, as Lizzie picked a door seemingly at random and tested the knob. It didn’t budge, so Lizzie grabbed a bobby pin from her hair.

Can’t we find a door that’s unlocked? Norma wondered, leaning against the wall beside the door. She couldn’t see Lizzie’s expression behind the mask, but she could feel her sister’s amusement like snow fluttering down.

Because nothing important is put behind an unlocked door. Lizzie’s reply melted against Norma’s flames. C’mon, you know this, you’re the one who’s all gungho about being a secret agent.

Norma huffed. Feels risky. She thought back, fire itching under her scalp. We’re not supposed to be getting in too deep.

Lizzie snorted. Whatever her reply was, Norma didn’t catch it—she tensed at the sound of footsteps down the hall. A woman in a raven mask was approaching them. Norma paused, grabbing at Lizzie’s shirt to get her attention and yanker her up away from the lock in one go.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” The Raven remarked, with a quiet sort of mundanity.

“Yeah, we’re really lost,” Lizzie pitched her voice innocently, “Can you help us find the stands?”

The Raven’s head tilted. Norma felt something brush against her mind—shit. Lizzie lunged forwards, realizing the same thing as Norma. The Raven dodged to the side, and the door behind her opened up to reveal another woman, this one wearing a wolf mask. She was quick to grab Lizzie’s arm, and something in Norma burned with a need to burn those hands. Lizzie struggled to yank her arm free—but the Wolf’s grip was iron. Norma reached out with her mind, but nobody else was close enough—

Fire sprung forth from Norma’s fingers before she was even really thinking. The Wolf stumbled back, but didn’t let go of Lizzie’s arm. Fuck.

A heavy hand landed on Norma’s shoulder. She stumbled forwards, trying to put space between herself and the Raven behind her—

An iron grip grabbed her shoulder

Another brush against her mind. Norma thought of fire, of bright burning walls, and burned the intrusion away. The Raven scoffed.

“Didya get anything?” The Wolf asked, as both the sisters were dragged further down the hall.

“These two aren’t the only little spies running around.” The Raven replied. “That’s all I got.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This was bad. This was so bad. Fire sparked from Norma’s fingers, frost climbing up the Wolf’s arms—

And then they were dragged into a room, and Norma hissed as the fire under her skin vanished, as the thin connection between her and Lizzie’s minds disappeared. Psychic inhibitors. Of all the—

Norma turned Lizzie, meeting her eyes through their masks. They couldn’t think at each other anymore, but it was pretty clear what they were both thinking.

This mission had gone sideways. And neither of them had any idea how to fix it.

[nerds-yearbook]

In 1967, Girl Scout Darlene Morris had an encounter with extra-terrestrials near Lake Okobogee. ("Conduit", X-Files, TV, Event)

[the-crooked-library]

Eliot Spencer in 1890s clothing is Exactly what I picture Quincey Morris looking like and I will take no criticism of that. if they ever did a Dracula ep (à la DB Cooper case) Nate would have been Van Helsing

[mirchloe]

i never post scrapped parts separately, but this 17 page dion pov segment was the bane of my existence for the entire month, and i don't want to let it go to waste, so here it is, entirely unedited. i think as you'll read, compared to what happens in the last chapter, it brings everything to a grinding halt, like a game of catch up to bring the other characters up to speed for the readers. it's very "here they are! here's what they were doing right up to that specific moment where raz is just about ready to take on the big bad! here are their very specific mentalities! they sure just keep TALKING! and LOOKING!" it felt so repetitive and dialogue-heavy that when i kept re-reading the past chapters, this scrapped chapter felt like walking into a wall and having to climb it to get back to the actual plot relevant stuff.

there are definitely things i would liked to save, but scaling down these conversations, making them more concise, it would really fit the story better.

When Dion learned what happened to Raz, if he wasn’t so shocked, then he could have collapsed on the spot.

As soon as his mother cried out over the phone, jolting Dion out of his daily stretches, he rushed to her side. His younger siblings followed, each in different stages of concern, only for their mutual distress to heighten when Donatella sank to her knees. The phone had slipped out of her hands, the springy cord causing it to dangle and swing. Their father grasped it, quickly raising it to his ear and addressing the other side with the proper poise of a hardened ringmaster. While Frazie tended to Donatella, who whispered in a hushed, yet shrill voice, Dion observed his father with wide eyes and clenched fists.

Augustus’ panicked voice killed any semblance of calm. “What? What do you m-? How could this have happened? Yes, yes, I - did you say imprisoned? Why would anyone-?”

But when Augustus floundered, cupping his mouth with tense fingers, it was like when his memories flooded in from the locked parts of his mind. All of a sudden, Augustus lost strength in his legs. He collapsed to the ground, struggling to hold onto the phone. He struggled to speak, frantically demanding answers that the other person could not provide. There was nothing Dion could do as a bystander to his father’s suffering, just as he had felt throughout his life. He was only able to offer comfort when the Aquatos linked their arms around him and each other before braving the storm as a family.

This was different, and yet, all the same. Augustus had been lost for words before, but now, as he failed to string together a sentence, he was like a weathered, battered mirror on the verge of cracking. He was deathly pale, as if multiple needles had punctured his veins and drained him of blood. Hobbling to his feet, he held the wall, his hand placed between strung-up, framed photographs of their family. His thumb caressed Raz’s face, his cherub cheeks, and Dion had almost forgotten he was so small as a toddler.

“Dad, what’s going on?” he remembered asking over the sound of Donatella’s cries..

Augustus shook his head. His face was wrinkled. He seemed to have aged in minutes.

“It’s your brother. It’s Razputin. He’s hurt.”

Dion may as well have taken a punch to the gut. He whipped his head to Donatella, finding her balling her hands into tense fists. She rose from her knees, Frazie and MIrtala holding her for support. Lost for words, he looked among his family, searching for answers only two of them could give.

“‘Hurt?’ How?” Queepie wondered, fidgeting with his collar. “I thought Raz was one of their top agents. How’d he get hurt?

“Pootie was tricked,” Donatella snapped, full of venom. “He’s trapped in another boy’s mind. His-his coworker or whatever! She said they can’t find a way to free him!”

Dion had no fathomable idea what that implied. Frazie, however, stiffened. She was the one demanding to know who had done it.

“Frazie, what does that mean? Trapped in someone’s mind?” Dion tried to breach through the chaos, but Frazie was unwavering, reiterating her question. He once again looked to their father, who brought the phone to his ear, and shouted, “Dad, hey, tell me! What does Mom mean that they can’t free him? Who did this to Raz? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s because of a contraption that I hardly understand myself, but it’s an intern behind Razputin’s entrapment. He’s someone your brother has had many problems with over the years.” 

Augustus’ grave voice lowered. Donatella snatched the phone from him, barking over the gentle, hardly soothing voice of Agent Vodello struggling to get a single word out. He briefly looked at Mirtala, before uttering a heavy-hearted sigh. 

“You know him. It’s a boy named Bobby Zilch.”

Mirtala’s irises dilated. Twin, dark circles enveloped their cerulean shade. She clasped her hands, shaking her head, her jaw twitching. Dion shrank to her side and rubbed her back before her tears could fall. He held her close and listened to her emit a whine like a monotonous siren, her pitch warbling, and he gnawed on the insides of his cheeks.

Again, there was nothing he could do. Providing meager comfort was drudgery when he was utterly helpless. Throughout the ride to the Motherlobe, he stewed and broiled with contempt, holding the shivering, weeping Mirtala to his chest.

For anyone to single out his little brother, they must have wracked with jealousy. Dion knew Raz was talented, progressing with his powers at lightning speed. He was more of a Psychonaut than an acrobat in recent days, but as Dion recalled, he had tried teaching Raz to hide his psychic abilities, repeating verbatim their father’s instructions. When he thought they were cursed to drown, as Dion stared out the window, Queepie resting in Frazie’s lap, he bit his nails into his palms for every sorrowful look Raz gave him after a harsh admonishment.

And then, witnessing Raz in such disarray, slumped against an overgrown apparatus, his malice dissipated. Raz was entirely expressionless, blankly gazing at nothing through half-lidded eyes. How their mother threw herself at his knees, screaming for him to wake up, Dion only heard static.

It was brief, however, as Dion caught sight of the real monster. The one who forced Raz into such a servile position was seated on the opposite side of the Brain Tumbler. His world was slathered in hues of blood red, and Dion’s one regret, in that moment, was letting Frazie get a charging head start.

It took the combined efforts of Oleander and Helmut to maintain the physical distance between the Aquatos and Bobby. Hollis had, somehow, managed to persuade them to remain calm. Then, he watched his mother sink once again to Raz’s knees, bawling against his shins while the Second Head tried consoling her. As explained, there was nothing they could do yet. They couldn’t discern why Raz was trapped when they already removed those peculiar locks. Otto theorized why, but Dion hadn’t heard a word over his mother’s sobering howling.

Hours passed. The tenuous peace eventually shattered. He couldn’t remember what he had snapped at the other agents scattered across the lab. All he remembered was Gisu on the floor, her cheek bruised from Frazie’s elbow swatting her when she teleported in with more devices. Somewhere in the chaos, Helmut was tossed by Queepie, and they, too, were tossed out of Sasha’s lab, letting more and more time pass. It was true chaos, now blanketed in a dense silence.

Someone’s stomach growled and shattered the stillness. It might have been his own. Dion thought his last meal was yesterday’s breakfast. Lili, with dark rings under her eyes, had been nice enough to bring them sandwiches covered in shrinkwrap, but he couldn’t stomach a crumb.

Now that he had returned to reality, acknowledging where he stood, he also couldn’t stomach the intern currently yapping his ear off.

She was about Raz’s height, give or take an inch. Dressed in jeans and a graphic T-shirt, her hair pulled back in tight buns, she somehow looked professional for a teenage intern. When she waltzed over, Mirtala said her name was Phoebe. He didn’t know when she weaseled her way over to them in a wing that was supposedly blocked off with clearance allowed for only particular agents.

Then, much to Dion’s mutual bewilderment shared with his family, Phoebe supplied them with a chance at therapy.

“...and so, that’s what I’m offering because I know how long you guys have been here, and I, well, I heard you weren’t treated the best. Word gets out fast in the Motherlobe,” she explained, folding her hands in front of her waist. She smiled, teeth pearly white and braced. “Any takers? I really do want to help as best as I can, so while they help Raz, I can help you.”

Dion thought Raz was long-winded, but she took the cake. Sweeping his fingers through his greasy hair, grimacing at the faint film on his palm, he said, “Listen, I don’t want to chew you out, but we’re not in the mood. It’s a nice gesture, I guess. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Phoebe frowned, the answer clearly going against her expectations. She surveyed the Aquatos, and Dion had enough of being watched. Pushing off the wall, spotting that Oleander and Milla had absconded from their duties of observing the Aquatos, he raised his hands. He took a stand in front of his family, Augustus and Nona still with Raz. While Donatella remained on her bottom by a window, Queepie and Mirtala murmuring to her, he was glad Frazie joined him shoulder-to-shoulder in protecting their withdrawn, haggard mother. Phoebe stepped back. She seemed to register her advances were unwanted. “Sorry. Maybe that was impetuous of me. Bad timing, too. I know this is a dire situation, and Bobby totally deserves your anger, so if you want to discuss anything with me, or just want to vent, I’m here for you guys. Raz is my friend, too, and I also-” She peeked around Frazie. “-wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, Tala. How are you? We haven’t had a chance to talk since I graduated from Whispering Rock.”

Dion looked at Mirtala, but she wasn’t returning Phoebe’s smile. She stood with Donatella, her flushed face pinching. As Donatella wiped her eyes for what must have been the thousandth, her deep violet mascara staining her cheeks, Mirtala stated, “We aren’t as close as you think, Phoebe.”

She balked. Behind her, Dion saw her two friends waiting in the wing appearing equally mystified. There was an assortment of other interns, too, but they were merely faces in the crowd. Phoebe struggled to respond, but Donatella thrust out her hand. Queepie quickly grabbed it, helping her stand while Mirtala steadied Donatella’s waist.

“Please, just go,” she ordered, and she pointed, though there was no strength in her posture. “This is a family matter. It doesn’t involve you. I won’t give you brownie points for coming over and lecturing us. Take your gaggle of onlookers, and leave us alone.”

“Oh! Um, that’s not at all what I wanted to do. ‘Lecturing?’ Wait, really, I’m not trying to talk down to you guys.” Phoebe folded her arms, a myriad of reactions flooding through her as Donatella leered. “I, uh, look, I’m sorry, Mrs. Aquato, but I’m not trying to get your bad side. Bobby’s the one-”

“Whoa, whoa, Phoebe, area’s off limits. I’m gonna need you to skedaddle.”

Lizzie’s voice echoed as she sauntered from the lab, followed by her assortment of fellow agents. She patted Phoebe’s back, coaxing her to leave. Phoebe rubbed her arm, clearly dissatisfied with the responses she received.

“You guys know the drill. Up and out.” Morris clapped his hands sharply. “Come on. Let’s go. Quentin, Elka, the rest of you, I don’t need to tell you twice.”

Norma set her index finger on the bridge of her glasses, peering at Phoebe. “I understand what you’re doing, but this isn’t the time. You think you’re helping by offering to hear them out, and that’s not what they need. What they require is a definite solution to end this problem.”

Dion’s knuckles ached. He hadn’t realized how intensely he had been clenching his fists. He shifted his gaze toward the lab, knowing nothing of substance was occurring. Until the obvious happened, then the Aquatos would never feel secure, and for Dion, he sensed he wouldn’t be well until he heard that annoying, endearing, high-pitched chuckle.

Phoebe tried again. “But Agent Natividad-”

She lifted her head, pointing with her chin. “They’re clearly not in the mood. Leave it to us, Phoebe, and go with the interns. There should be some scavenger hunt items for you to locate somewhere around the Motherlobe, so I suggest you hop to it.”

Phoebe bit her lip. She sagged under her mentor’s firm derailment. She tried to meet Mirtala’s eyes, but Mirtala ducked her chin to her chest. Frazie reached back and gripped her shoulder, scowling at Phoebe, who had taken on a true visage of dejection. The brunt of their anger was given to her full force, and briefly, just briefly, Dion pitied her.

Relenting, Phoebe nodded. She opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of it. Instead of an excuse, she mustered an apology. She retreated to the other interns, giving a parting glare toward Sasha’s lab. They walked off, escorted by older agents, who finally realized the commotion and ordered them to stay away.

Donatella accepted the box of tissues offered by Sam. She thanked her in a thick, tight voice before blowing her nose. She rasped for breath, taking another tissue for good measure. As she cleaned herself for what might have been the tenth time, she said she needed a minute and dragged herself to the window. It overlooked parts of the Quarry, but Dion couldn’t find any beauty in the glistening, clear waters. They may as well have been bubbling and polluted.

No one spoke. Glances were given, not words. Dion locked eyes with Gisu, and still, he couldn’t grasp what needed to be said. Gisu, along with the rest of the agents, were just as withdrawn. Nobody had slept, evidenced by the shared dark circles under their eyes. If they had eaten, the amount of food was in small, unfulfilling quantities, such as Lili’s unwrapped, untouched sandwiches.Lili 

Frazie drew in a sharp, sudden breath and flatly remarked, “Sorry I walloped you, Gisu.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, no problem. You didn’t know I’d teleport to that spot. I’m lucky your elbow didn’t materialize through my skull.”

Dion pulled a face, but stopped himself from replying when he noticed Queepie fidgeting with his sleeve. He asked him what was wrong.

Queepie turned his attention to Morris. “Is, uh, Mr. Fullbear still mad I threw him?” He chuckled, leaning forward in his chair. He reached over and ruffled Queepie’s hair, parted on the side. “The big guy’s tougher than you give him credit for, man. He was frozen for twenty years, so you’d think his muscles would’ve atrophied, but nope. He’s built like a brick shithouse.”

Donatella immediately glowered at him for the language in front of her ten-year-old. Morris pretended not to notice, eyes flitting across each sibling before sharing a quick grin with Queepie.

“Physical therapy has kept him strong,” Adam piped up, fingers typically steepled. “Not to mention the ice kept him perfectly preserved. His husband once told me he’s jealous that his bones aren’t clicking as much as his.”

“He even has better posture than Norma,” Sam added, earning a scoff of surprise from her intended, or unintended, target.

“Hey, my back is - oh, I’m not getting into a tit for tat with you. It’s already too tiring.”

“Even if she’s right?” Lizzle drawled, elbowing her sister, and earning a quiet titter of giggles from Mirtala. She grinned a lopsided smile. “Hey, finally, I got a laugh out of you. Being morose doesn’t suit you.”

Dion couldn’t bring the corners of his lips to rise. As sweet as it was to hear her soft laughter, it was not enough to bandage their wounds. He looked at Donatella, finding she was already departing from the group. She swayed toward the nearest window, and although his back was turned, he sensed she was not observing the surrounding foliage or crystal clear water.

Frazie huffed out a breath like a frustrated horse. She cupped her knitted brows, her expression twisting. She opened her mouth, and said nothing. Then, she rolled her head back and slackened her arms, asking the obvious.

“I think enough time has passed, so does…does anyone know why this happened? Any fathomable reason?”

As she tossed out her hands, the agents weren’t responding. Sam looked at the others, and Morris crossed his arms. Gisu fidgeted with the strap of her new, leather bag. She sent a glance toward Norma, who maintained eye contact with Frazie.

At Lizzie’s nod, Adam sighed. He lowered his shoulders. Dion heard his joints grind.

“When we saw Raz last, Bobby lashed out at him. Sure, Raz goaded him, but that’s not enough. There’s been a history of provocation, more so on Bobby’s side, and this was a meticulously planned attack on Raz. The PSI locks jamming the Brain Tumbler, for example, were ones Bobby had been seemingly working on for some time.”

Gisu added, “With how many Bobby wedged in the Brain Tumbler, it would take at least a few weeks for someone without technical knowledge to create. Otto said they were cheap or something, but that just goes to show how far Bobby was willing to go. He must’ve been feeling-”

“That asshole has been planning this for a while, right? I don’t need to hear anything else.” Dion scoffed, gripping his elbows, and Gisu frowned, as if she was biting her tongue. “He’s always had it out for Raz. Day one in that camp? Raz told me that guy fired at him from a tank. A tank! Ever since then, he’s been jealous and spiteful, all because Raz was better than him. A bastard with a violent streak like that never should’ve been allowed in the Psychonauts.”

He punctuated his frustration by slamming his fist into his open palm. He didn’t want to hear any further reasoning. It didn’t matter. Raz was still a prisoner in Bobby’s mind, facing unknown tribulations while his family stood on the outskirts.

This time, they weren’t permitted to help. They couldn’t rush into action. Like bit players, they were watching the show with the curtain veiled over the stage. As he was sure his brother’s body was becoming colder and paler, Dion didn’t want to consider anything beneficial for Bobby. Whatever he felt, whatever he endured, it was secondary to the suffering he must have been enforcing upon Raz.

Frazie glanced at Dion, sucking in a breath, then huffing it out, deciding it was worth saying. “I don’t know about that last part, Dion.” “What do you mean? What’s wrong with what I said?” Dion felt their mother’s eyes boring through him, as if compelling him to question them in her stead. “This guy attacked Raz! Trapped him in his mind! He’s definitely brutalized him! How else am I supposed to interpret it, huh?”

Adam’s voice was clipped. “The Psychonauts don’t abandon their own. This obviously wasn’t a standalone act of violence.”

“I don’t want to hear anything excusing that asshole! He hurt Raz! End of story!”

“Earlier, when you said-” Lizzie peered at Mirtala, who waited with wide, dull eyes, and Dion snorted as he was ignored. “-Bobby looked like he was crying, it had us all wondering. Things that were missed that led up to him, well, cracking.”

Sam stroked her arm, unblinking as she spoke in an uncharacteristically somber tone. “Kind of like how a dam breaks.”

As Queepie gasped, and Mirtala covered her mouth, Donatella whipped her head over her shoulder. Dion didn’t need to stare at her. He knew shock was scorching her face a brilliant scarlet. Every bit of reddened rage colored his cheeks, as well. Dion’s insides twisted, his own emotions in turmoil. He raised a slow, accusatory finger at Sam’s face, hunching forward as he snarled through gritted teeth.

“You better not mean what I think you’re implying. Nona’s circumstances were different and way more excruciating. You keep her name out of your mouth.” 

Sam didn’t flinch. None of them did.

Dion felt like a cauldron boiling over with toxic carbonation. If what she implied was true, then they had the nerve to compare Nona, who had been a corrupt gzar’s political pawn, to a manipulative fraud like Bobby Zilch. She had been berated and barraged with tragedy. What could have even been comparable? Failing an obstacle course in summer camp while Raz strived? Being unable to learn a psychic skill with the same aptitude as Raz? Hiding behind a tree and glaring at their family when they visited the Motherlobe? It was ridiculous, a cruel joke to believe their weight was equal. Dion shook with such palpable rage that he had half a mind to storm into the lab and smash his tired fist through that contraption, if it meant rescuing his brother from a devil in disguise.

“Dion,” Frazie snapped, gripping her head once more, “drop it. Just drop it.”

He pivoted to Frazie, incredulous. “Nona is nothing like the guy who singled out Raz. Are you defending him now?”

“Ugh! I’m not. I wouldn’t. The Psychonauts-” Frazie filled her chest with air and exhaled with pained exertion. “The Psychonauts helped Nona when our world turned upside down, all right? When that happened, they protected her.” She held up her hands. “Adam’s right. It’s not like them to abandon anyone in need. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re leaving a lot out and-”

“Look, just let us finish. We’ve been going over this diligently with the senior agents, and we want you to hear us out,” Norma insisted, and she lightly patted Gisu’s shoulder, prompting her to continue before Dion could shout.

“Trapping Raz, Bobby definitely intended to hurt him. No other facts point otherwise, but when Lizzie told us Tala’s observation, we started wondering if this really was a cry for help. Heck, Oleander even phoned home and learned Bobby was-”

“You’re joking! None of this was a cry for help! Raz was deceived! So were the rest of you!” Dion barked. He couldn’t believe they had spent a few summers of youthful bliss together. For her to so much as consider a plight of decency for the unforgivable whelp who had harmed Raz, he wanted to scrub his mouth out with soap.

“Or whatever Bobby originally wanted was turned into something else between them,” Sam stressed. “Y’know, becoming a cry for help. They haven’t made any messed up noises in a few hours, right?”

“No! Not right! What the hell is wrong you guys? You’re making up excuses.”

“Not like we’ll know what’s actually happening until they emerge,” Morris retorted, drumming his fingers on the fortified armrests of his new chair. “So, at this point, with how long this has gone on, the Psychonauts are willing to give Bobby the benefit of the doubt. We want to hear what Raz says before any hasty decisions are made, too. That’s coming from the Grand Head himself.”

Dion shook his head. They may as well have promoted Bobby as a Psychonaut for his daring little scheme. It was like they were looking the other way, pretending not to see Raz. They could say how much they cared for Raz, how much they wanted to see him back on his feet, all while espousing platitudes for his kidnapper. It was a low bar for the Psychonauts, declaring Bobby would face consequences, and they couldn’t cross that nanoscopic threshold.

“We won’t know the whole truth until they’re freed, and we’ll go from there. That’s what Hollis and Truman have decided with the other agents,” Norma concluded, and she clutched her wrist, meeting Frazie’s narrowed gaze. “With how quiet things have been, and no visible, physical reactions have been happening for the past few hours, it’s a possibility things are calmer between them in Bobby’s mind.”

Dion chewed on the inside of his cheek. His family was stuck outside, left to take their statements at face value. The lab was right there, but it was like they had to traverse across a moat to reach the castle. They had some nerve deciding on what to do without consulting his family.

Regardless, he watched Mirtala approach. She wrung her hands, rolling her wrists. His stomach flipped at her agonizingly hopeful voice, like tittering birdsong from a weary, groggy sparrow.

“You mean, they could be working it out? And maybe-maybe things will be okay?” 

Norma managed a smile that twitched a little more than probably intended. “That’s my, well, our hopeful conjecture. Trust me when I say we’ve been debating this for some time amongst ourselves and our superiors.”

Queepie itched through his scalp, his hair just as flat and matted as Dion’s. The embodiment of discomfort, he mumbled, “I mean, I won’t believe anything until I hear it from Raz. He better wake up soon.”

“I’m-I’m sure he will,” Mirtala said, spinning to his side. “I bet Boo, uh, Bobby will, too, and they can tell us what happened.”

Yeah, if I don’t get to that guy’s scrawny neck first.

Dion let those words fester in his mind. No matter the carefully curated statements, he wasn’t interested in comprehending their rationale. If he was in a better mood, then he might have admitted they made observations with merit. He hadn’t heard a single, dismal groan echoing from Raz in some time. For that, he guessed he was grateful the situation had seemingly calmed.

In the end, the one who mattered was Raz. He was still suffering in an unknowable mind with a person who loathed him beyond petty, childish rivalry. Whatever Bobby had endured, or supposedly endured, was nothing compared to the horrors he must have been enacting upon Raz.

One glance at his sister affirmed his trepidation. Frazie’s gaze teetered toward the lab. Norma uttered her name, and she stiffened. The attention was clearly unwanted, a burden on her tense back. She looked down, spotting Queepie, Mirtala, but Raz was not with them. There should have been five high-flying, death-defying Aquato siblings, not four.

She withered. A tree without roots was destined to falter.

“I get it. That guy hates Raz. Whenever Raz visited, sometimes, he mentioned a problem he had with that asshole. I swear, I’d see him lurking in the Questionable Area when me and Raz were catching up on our acrobatics.” Dion heard her jaw click. “But even if you guys say all that, say there’s a method to his madness, to trick Raz while he’s vulnerable, and trap him in his mind? I still can’t figure it out. What did Raz do that was so bad? No, actually, why Raz? Why hurt Raz at all?”

Her voice cracked. She tossed out her hands. But no one could provide proof. Explanations were paltry, a means to delineate the facts when the obvious inference rang loud and true. Dion gripped his elbows, squeezed his eyes shut, and saw Raz’s limp, bloodless body slumped against the Brain Tumbler.

Raz was imprisoned in Bobby’s mind. Nothing else mattered. No matter what was happening or had occurred, it didn’t smooth over the real truth like an eroded stone at the bottom of the sea. Until Raz was safe and free from Bobby’s clutches, Dion couldn’t rest, even as his head throbbed and heart rattled between his ribs.

He heard Donatella sniff. Her footsteps dwindled. She must have returned to the window.

Norma peered at her fellow agents. They wore their sympathetic masks, lips turned downward, slight mist glazing a few eyes. She seemed to speak for all of them. “There’s no justification. There’s only what we can do to understand when they’re out.”

“You should have just said the first part.”

When his mother interrupted, it hit Dion very, very suddenly that she had been far too quiet. Even her footsteps were pittering.

Everyone faced her. Mirtala’s silver bells chiming out of tune when she jerked her head. Donatella hunkered forward with her clenched fist on the rounded window. She slowly shook her head, leering at the dull carpet and potted ferns. If she had psychic powers, then Dion believed she would have set the entire Motherlobe ablaze in a swarm of uncontrollable flames.

Lizzie tempted her fury. “Uh, what do you mean? We-”

“You heard me!” she spat, flinging out her fist, each finger extending like whips. “Pootie is innocent. Pootie has done nothing wrong, and-and as soon as he emerges, I’m taking him out of the Psychonauts! He is coming home!” “Mom!” Frazie blurted, eyes shooting wide open. “You can’t just-”

“Don’t Mom me, Frazie. After today, after all this, you’re just as shocked as I am. You asked why someone would do this to Raz? Wel, such a situation never should have happened. If he stayed with us-”

“I understand you’re upset,” Norma hastily interjected, “but that’s not your decision. Raz is-”

Donatella huffed, breathing so hard that Dion thought her lungs would give out., Her mascara stains worsened as a glossy sheen of sweat dampened her face. It seemed she no longer cared about her once graceful appearance, nothing more than a caricature of maternal sorrow.

“I’ve had enough listening to the six of you. You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you say you’re Raz’s friends?” She snapped her attention to Mirtala, who squeaked, and Dion winced. “And you say that monster was crying, Tala? So what? He attacked your brother! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten those nights when you’d come to me telling a story about how he insulted or berated you, too.”

Mirtala shifted. She couldn’t meet Donatella in the middle. Dion kept his hands to himself.

“It’s a possible sign of guilt,” Norma snapped, swiftly regaining her composure. “Since this has gone for so long, it’s more likely than not Bobby’s dealing with some heavy regrets about the entire situation. ”

“And don’t forget Raz is a Psychonaut. There’s a chance he’s handling this,” Lizzie added, standing shoulder to shoulder with her sister. “Yeah, this sucks. Totally, completely blows. No one is saying this isn’t hell on Earth for everyone, but even so, you can’t make the choice to take Raz away from something he loves doing.”

“‘Loves doing?’ Oh, you’re telling me he loves being sequestered in that monster’s mind?” “Not at all what I said, and you know it, lady.”

Adam shot Lizzie a look, their mutual frustration palpable. “What Lizzie means to say is-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what any of you say. I don’t give a rat’s ass for what that monster could say.” Donatella flung her finger toward the lab, her tone strident, so potent that every window in the Motherlobe could have shattered from her sonic decibels. “What could he possibly say other than a cheap sorry? He still made the decision to hurt my son! I want my son home! None of you could protect him! None of you! I couldn’t! I-!”

She choked. As if something was lodged in throat, she hacked and hobbled. Fresh sobs wracked her entire body. She was far frailer than Dion had ever seen, a porcelain doll with gilded, widening cracks. She may as well have shattered. No gold would cement her together again as Donatella cried. Through the black tears dripping between her fingers, staining the carpet in inky droplets, she raked her fingers through her unkempt hair splayed in lank strands over her shoulders.

Queepie rushed to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Mirtala was quick to join, a stumble in her step. Donatella scooped them up like she would lose them, too, as if an invisible force would rip them from her iron grip.

Frazie dragged a finger along her damp eyelids. She looked at the agents, commiserating. Norma reached her first, one hand to her bicep, saying nothing. Dion wasn’t sure what could have been sound as the anguished howls of a broken mother rolled throughout the dismal, quiet Motherlobe.

Dion tipped his chin to his chest. He could barely suck in air through his gritted teeth. He grinded on them so hard that they may as well have turned to chalk.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve decided. He’s coming home. My baby is coming home with us. He’s going to stay with his family. He’s been away long enough. I can’t trust you people to keep him safe.”

Donatella wheezed her desires through chattering teeth. She glared over her youngest children toward the lab, and Dion heard the soft clicking of approaching heels, tempered by quickening footsteps of rainboots. 

“And I know I certainly can’t trust him with the likes of you.”

The visage of the Lesser Head of the Psychonauts did not change. She stood with her arms behind her back, looking down on Donatella with an unreadable expression. Lili bristled, glancing between them, before settling on crossing her arms when Hollis stepped toward Donatella. “Mrs. Aquato,” she said with undeserved evenness, “can we speak privately?” “This is private enough,” Donatella hissed, relinquishing her grip on Queepie and Mirtala to gesture. “Now that those weaselly interns are gone, no one else is in this corridor. If you want to preach to me, too, do it in front of everyone.”

She did not waver. She simply extended her arm. “Just down the hall. Please. I want to talk to you alone.”

Donatella shook. She glared out the window, only to scoff when she seemed to have spotted Hollis’ reflection. When Hollis reached into her pocket and retrieved a small packet of tissues, Donatella scrubbed her eyes with her dried, blackened knuckles.

As Donatella continued refusing her, Dion was surprised when Hollis turned to him. He wasn’t psychic. He thought she would have deferred to Frazie, who had undergone her tutelage. Frazie might not have been a Psychonaut, and yet, she still had an in that Dion lacked. She did not reach physically, as Dion took a solitary step away, and as if sensing his apprehension, Hollis addressed him from where she stood.

“I’m sorry. I failed,” she murmured, and Dion saw the rings under her eyes, somehow even darker than the ones under his. Her exhaustion bled into her slow words. “Plain and simple, I failed both Raz and Bobby. If you want to discuss missed signs, I should’ve realized everything much sooner. I shouldn’t have berated Raz for his obvious distrust. I shouldn’t have been quick to believe Bobby’s tears. Whatever is happening in Bobby’s mind, whatever Raz is going through, it’s on me. The Psychonauts take full responsibility.”

“Agent Forsythe-” Norma began, but Hollis raised his hand.

“An apology means nothing without action,” she said, and she looked to Donatella, who continued leering out the window, “which is why I’ll hope you’ll grant me the courtesy-” “Courtesy,” Donatella snarled.

“-to talk in private. Away from this very upsetting place. Even if it’s just right over there.”

“You must have lost your brain somewhere. Is it rolling around in one of those little capsules? If you think I’ll spend a second with you, you’re madder than a hatter.”

Dion dug his fingernails into his hips. Tension eased in his shoulders, so much so that they cracked as they lowered. With the discussion coming to a dead halt, he heard the blood pulsing between his ears. A rhythmic, monotonous flow almost dizzied him, and his damp eyes fluttered to stay afloat. He searched among the group, his austere mother leering down at the Second Head, who no longer wore her pride on her expansive shoulder pads.

Lili bared her teeth, ready to speak, but Hollis cupped her shoulder. She shook her head, dispelling the foaming fury that must have been rising in her throat. Donatella peered at her, one eyebrow neatly arched, and Dion assumed she was surprised Lili would seemingly muster an attempt to defend Hollis.

Left with his thoughts, Dion clutched his dry, cracked elbows. Without a word bouncing among them, he directed his gaze toward the lab, as he had done countless times. He knew what was happening, and no progress was being made in any meaningful manner. Patience was never his virtue. He had been still and stiff and silent long enough.

But he kept looking at Hollis. He presumed her to be a powerful leader. She was responsible for the Psychonauts under her care. Interns, agents, retirees, it didn’t matter. With how long she had known and trained Raz, the Motherlobe like a second home whenever Raz wasn’t traveling with his family, Hollis had garnered a tight-knit relationship with his little brother. Dion remembered how proud Raz was whenever he could state Hollis had trusted him with a mission, or took the time to further his training in private. Around the campfire, Raz rarely had a negative word about Hollis, even if their mother grumbled.

He glanced at the other agents. They were Raz’s friends, partners who had helped him face down his familial foe. Without them, the circumstances might have been different. In the years Raz spent with them, he, too, had dozens of tales to tell about them. Missions, pranks, movie nights, it was as if they had scooped Raz into their arms, carting him off like their own little brother. In the time he was apart from Raz, and Raz came home revealing something new he had learned from one of them, the joy on his face was undeniable. Stars practically twinkled in  his eyes, and Dion had to admit the plethora of twisting emotions, seeing Raz grow and learn sometimes without him, jabbed at his sides.

But they cared about Raz. Despite Dion’s own uncertainties, it was more than obvious they treasured him. He was the world’s youngest Psychonaut, along with being their trusted colleague and friend.

They wouldn’t have worked so tirelessly to free Raz if they were dismissive. And as Dion watched Hollis swipe a tissue to quickly brush at her eyes, he thought his legs would give out.

If she was experiencing identical anguish as the Aquatos, acknowledging the deep-seated grief stewing within Dion, then he blurted a command that the Dion of yesterday never would have considered.

“Mom, I think you should take her up on this.”

Donatella stared at him like he had split his head open, and blood gushed down his face. Even his siblings gawked. It didn’t take a psychic to perceive the look of complete incredulity crossing Queepie’s countenance to realize he was thinking, Who replaced Dion with a look-a-like?

“It-it might be better if you do,” he hastily added, “because, uh, because it’ll clear the air.”

She swallowed hard. She regarded Dion like a stranger. “I thought you would’ve been on my side.”

His blood froze over. Ice in his veins, Dion couldn’t break from her softened, surprised stare. He may as well have told his mother she was wrong.

But Frazie took to his side. She didn’t gaze at Dion. Rather, her tone took on their shared strength. 

“Mom, it’d be better if you talked to Hollis one-on-one.”

Donatella hesitated. She held her breath. Although Hollis offered her another tissue, she remained as stationary as a rusted, marble statue on a paltry foundation. She kept her hands to her chest, and clear tears slithered down her marred cheeks.

Dion’s heart hammered. It ricocheted between his ribs, threatening to break every single one. Tensing his knees, he ordered himself to remain upright. He couldn’t turn to Frazie, but no psychic connection was needed to affirm where they stood.

Their mother huffed. She cradled her head. And a semblance of peace returned.

“Oh, fine, fine. I know when you two are united, there’s no point in arguing.” 

She stomped down the hall, her brisk pace prompting Hollis to follow. Without a parting word or a promise of when she would return, Donatella vanished around the rounded corner, Hollis in tow.

Dion dropped his head. His entire body slumped forward. Frazie’s hold on his collar prevented him from falling over outright. Hearing her snicker, he snorted at whatever amusement she derived from his exhaustion.

Before he could remark on anything, Lili snatched the shrinkwrapped sandwiches left in a heap on the floor. “You guys seriously didn’t eat the food I brought? They definitely aren’t as fresh now,” she grumbled, telekinetically shoving them in each Aquato’s hand. “Come on, eat them. I know you guys haven’t had anything.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Queepie muttered, tearing his open with Mirtala. “Ew. There’s some weird sauce in here.”

“It’s called aioli.”

“That does not look like aioli. It’s too green.”

“Then, some relish got in it! Sheesh, Queepie, it’s a club sandwich.”

Sticking his tongue out at Lili, Queepie gasped when Mirtala lightly kicked his shin. He looked ready to kick her back when Dion eyed him. He scoffed and shoved the sandwich into his mouth, ignoring Mirtala’s perfectly innocent air.

“Think those two are gonna be okay?’ Gisu wondered as Dion fiddled with his shrinkwrap.

“Well, they haven’t shouted in thirty seconds. I’d say things are going better than we hoped,” Lizzie sneered.

Norma checked her watch. “Almost a minute, now. Still no screaming.”

Dion scoffed through his first bite, only for his eyes to widen. The taste of dry turkey, watery tomatoes, and excessive mayonnaise was like fine dining from a master chef. Foregoing any food made an average sandwich a meal fit for a king. But while Frazie grinned, Dion simply turned his head, trying to eat as casually as possible.

Lili cracked her jaw, reminiscent of Lizzie. She peered at the agents, saying nothing verbally, but he could tell telepathy was in play. He had seen Raz concentrating when they were in their beds, gazing at nothing in particular, while being immersed in a conversation with someone far away. She wore the same look, along with the other agents, but what she suggested had him struggling to swallow the next bite.

“Maybe…we should get out of here, too.” “Wh-? Just leave?” He swatted at his chest and gulped hard. “What if something happens?”

“My dad will tell me, and I’ll tell you. He promised if there were any updates, I’d be the first to know.”

“Yeah? Can we tru-?” He stopped himself, dismissing the budding accusation. If the Grand Head was anything like his subordinate, then Dion supposed he deserved the same respect. “Uh, forget it  Forget I said anything.”

Lili stretched, lacing her fingers above her head and standing on her tiptoes. Dion had seen Raz elongate his spine in the same way. Although a common gesture, he couldn’t help but wonder if Lili had picked up that trait from Raz.

When her back popped, she sighed and crossed her arms. “I get it. Sitting and waiting, it’s really hard, especially when there’s nothing you can do-” Her gaze swept across the munching Aquatos. “-except take care of ourselves.”

Adam ruffled her hair, and she quickly brushed aside his hand. “You phrased it perfectly, Lili. Better than I could.”

“Can we go?” Mirtala asked abruptly to her older siblings. It was unlike her to ask for permission, in most cases. She was the kind of girl who tended to move to her own rhythm.

Queepie didn’t need permission to do anything. It was a trait Dion found more than irritable when he ran off from chores. He was already with the agents, as if expecting Dion and Frazie would comply.

Frazie stared at Lili, their thoughts uniquely private. Then, an almost resigned air, she said, “Some fresh air might be good. It’ll be better to leave Mom alone while she’s with Hollis, too.”

Dion said nothing. He showed his palms and walked in the rear. Frazie joined him, shoulder to shoulder. Watching Queepie speak with Morris, and Mirtala clinging to Lili while Sam tried prying her off, Dion supposed they were the outliers. They hadn’t technically agreed; they were following the group. If Dion was a gambling man, then he would have put all of his chips in by insisting Frazie, like himself, would have rather stayed with Raz.

But she grinned at him, flanked by Norma. “Holding up?” “Hardly,” he said, taking comfort in how Gisu slipped into his shadow. “I bet if we leave, something’s gonna happen.” “Come on, Dion. We’ve waited for over a day. What could possibly happen when we’re gone?”

And although Frazie flashed him a lopsided smile, Dion smothered his trepidation, clinging to the hopeful strand that a peaceful resolution would ensue, even if he still wanted nothing more than to punch Bobby Zilch’s lights out.

[jackiequick]

When is your mom is Ms. May Parker 🤭

Summary: When your mother is the beautiful May Parker or as people like to call her, Aunt May, sometimes you can get a little embarrassed. But you love her nonetheless!

Fanfic Length: Short

Characters appear/mentioned: Amelia ‘Mia’ Parker, Aunt May, Ben Parker, Peter Parker & etc.

Note: Inspired by the “Hey, Mrs. Parker” audio haha!

- In school -

Aunt May going to pick up her daughter meanwhile Ben picking up Peter Parker from elementary school. She parks outside and get out walking up the pathway to the school entrance. She’s wearing a nice fitted graphic t-shirt, jeans that are cuffed at the ankles and her favorite sneakers. Her loosen 2nd day curls bounce up and down as she struts the pathway. 

Some security guards stop and stare, one of them even opens the door for her, with a smile pulling up his sunglasses. .

“Ah thank you.” May says with a sweet smile.

“You’re welcome Mrs..” He replies not knowing her name.

“Mrs. Parker.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Parker.”

May smiled once again at the security guard and his friend before walking into the main office signing in her name and such. Many teachers and staff members walked by with a cheeky grin glancing or greeting May Parker.

It was always “Hey, Mrs. Parker.” or “Hi, Mrs. Parker.” Chatting up a storm with her and some not guessing that she was a mother of one of the students here. Compliments, greeting and smiling.

Amelia would walk out of class and into the hallway wearing her signature red sweater, a white t-shirt, jeans similar to her mothers and flats. Standing by her locker to pick up her things and chat with two of her friends, then she heard the sayings.

“Damnnnn, who’s that?”

“She’s pretty.”

“Is she a new teacher? I bet she teaches art or something!”

“Probably someone’s hot aunt.”

Amelia would roll her eyes and groan in annoyance, sometimes even snicker at the comments. “Unbelievable.” She says, slamming her locker shut, “I thought Pops was picking me up.”

Referring to her wonderful stepdad, Ben Parker. She walked down the hallways and nearby the main office, scribbling in her notebook.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” Said one her friends, Tracy, snapping her out of it.

Carter, her new friend walking behind her, holding his jacket.

“My moms here. And she’s wearing that cute outfit of hers..” Amelia repiled with a soft smile, using her cherry red pen to point to her mother.

Carter did a double take and exclaimed loudly, “Ayeee yo! That’s your mom?! Hey, Ms. Parker!” 

Tracy and Amelia slapped his arms to shut him up, giggling as the blonde boy rolled his eyes telling them to stop. Some people heard them though as started teasing and joking. Amelia was embarrassed, a light rose color appeared on her face. You couldn’t blame her, with a mom as gorgeous and cool as that who wouldn’t be blushing embarrassed sometimes.

Aunt May turned around and waved at the kids, “Hi kids!”

“Oh mom..” Amelia replied covering her face as she run over to her mother with friends.

The girl would joke around and play it off annoyingly, even sending glares to other people. However as one can imagine from that day forwarded, Amelia would appear ‘Hey, Ms. Parker” from every guy and girl she met. Teachers, older students, friends from work and etc. Even hearing how fine as hell her mother was. Again, can you blame them?

May Parker was smart, cool, sweet and strong headed. Looks for days! Her jewelry and cute causal outfits was always tried to be on point. Even the simplest outfit like jeans and a t-shirt. Her smile could make heads turn. Ever since Mia was in elementary school she knew that and so did everything else. Her mother’s cooking was always great, most importantly her cookies! Sadly she was taken boys.

Once in a while she would hear this…

“Damn, Ms. Parker is finer than a motherfucker.” One would say to his friends smiling.

“Mhmm!” The other replied then waving to May Parker with a grin, “Hi Ms.Parker!”

May would turn around with a smile as she carried her shopping bag and said, “Hi boys!”

The first guy muttered, “When you gonna give me a chance, Ms. Parker?”

“Wha’cha say honey?”

“Huh? Nothing!”

Mia would simply laugh deciding to mess around and yells, “Hey Ma, when pops coming home with Pete?”

The guys eyes would widen and groan rolling his eyes in annoyance. A part of Amelia always knew that her mother heard those comments, especially when she wasn’t seen with Uncle Ben, Peter or any of her friends. When May was out with her husband, Ben, he always made sure to stay close her and show his women off, knowing how wonderful she is. However he get protective and extra loving sometimes in public. That’s his lady.

Of course May heard those things, you would know cause all those comments from sweet ‘You look beautiful’ to the simple ‘Hey, Mrs. Parker��� gave her a confident boost!

—-

— Present Day —

Amelia never minded that comments about her mother. Yes she would get defensive and sent a few glares, to try and scare off the people from behind. Even yell out loud something to cause attention to her instead of her mother. But all of the time, it made her proud to know her mother still got it! Especially after years of her mom being single and staying with her, the confidence boost was still there. Sharing her mother with the world, cause like any child their mom is their part world.

Hell, sometimes she would encourage her mother to go on a date with the guy who might’ve been flirty and or do a little swirl whenever she was complimented. Take it all in and shine. Mia wants for her mother to be happy, healthy and loved!

Cause in Amelia Parker’s eyes her mother, May Parker, will always be the vibrant, dazzling, charming and simply sweet women. No matter what year it may be or the age of her family life, she will always love her.

Like I said, the comments are still there and the looks still come weather she wants to or not. Amelia embraced it. Because a part of her knows her time will come where her own nieces and nephews, maybe even children, will be embarrassed by her and become a bit defensive. Or in her words, protective. The Parker Women tend to have that flare weather they know it or not.

————-

//—//

Thank you for reading! I hope u like it.

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @drspencereidhotch @blueboirick @yetanotherwells @t-nd-rfoot @ohgodnotagainn @msrochelleromanofffelton @thecavalrywife @mandylove1000 @blackheart-beauty @gcthvile @meiramel @rooster-84 and etc

[tavtiers]

A hypothetical god tier for Maura Lee Karupt from Doom Patrol: the Rogue of Space.

A Rogue of Space is among those who use physical existence. They are motivated by others to steal creation and beginnings. (x) The Rogue of Space lacks self control and feels satisfied by the act of making something. (x) They are the Free Spirit Mother, defined by reckless creation and beginnings. (x) Their opposite is the Thief of Time. Their inverse is the Knight of Time. They share their personality with the Sylph of Heart. The Rogue of Space would quest on a planet similar to the Land of Cubes and Frogs, reigned over by Echidna (Mother of Monsters) or Demeter (Goddess of Grain). They would rise to ascension on the wings of hummingbirds. (x)(x)(x)

[lovestuckyhatemarvel]

I really wish they’d brought Agent Jill Morris back for another episode, either to have had her learn that being the next David Rossi sucks, or to have her be a hindrance again. Because she was bitchy and driven in a way that was fun to watch. Like yeah girlboss, make that poor decision to be in denial about how you were a victim and your friend died so you can do an ill advised press conference. Your hair looks great.

[jonmyblaze]

Hey, I just had a fanfiction idea where Julius Belmont signs up with the Hellsing organization in order to get experience for the Battle of Demon Castle in 1999 .

The Integra and Julius are like cousins (one being from a Morris and the other being from Helsing it)And seras Victoria gets a crush,

(probably going to alter the Morris family history, Just so it fits)

Oh and catboy will get a crush on Adrian. I encourage comments, and criticism.

[ottoslab]

I can’t stop think about the crumb of Morris concept in the psychodyssey where they had noted the idea of him being one of Millas orphans. So you know I’m going to run with it. Specifically for this bit

Now realistically with how long they’ve known each other I don’t think Sasha wouldnt know she had a kid but also. If he didn’t know it was specifically a kid he’d have to see at work every day . That would be really funny to me

classic predicament.

[apotelesmaa]

no no, push your sam & frazie agenda. I want to hear it.

(Using this ask to also answer a reply) @cosmignon yesss horse girls falling in love… I first and foremost want Sam to meet the little horse I think she deserves that but also I think the two would one get along wrt their little brothers. & in general I think frazie would benefit from someone as confident & nonjudgmental as Sam.

I feel like Sam is very confident in herself and her abilities. She’s notably the only Boole we see who has a very firm grasp on her psychic abilities and isn’t afraid of them, but she’s also not someone with a huge ego (I also love her lines about dogen not exploding anyone who didn’t deserve it it’s so cute… so cute…) I feel like frazie could benefit from being friends with someone who doesn’t expect anything more from a person than what they’re willing to give/doesn’t expect her to be at raz’s skill level & also someone who’s just very chill? I feel like their energies are kinda complete opposites but in a way where they’d balance each other out.

Also I think frazie would think talking to animals is fucking cool and be incredibly enthused by Esmeralda & Sam’s weird girl swag. Do u know how cool it would be to do circus tricks with a fucking whale. That would be insane.

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 24: Radiation Poisoning

Collapsed building

4532 Words; Ouroboros

TW for violence, injury, bloodsport, blood, death

AO3 ver

An explosion shook the stands.

Gisu ducked on instinct, but the blast itself had been concentrated in the section adjacent—the crowd immediately around her, Raz, and Adam was yelling, but mostly in confusion. Gisu looked frantically for where the blast had been—

A second explosion rocked the stands, making Gisu stumble into Adam as the crowd around her started to surge in panic. A third, smaller blast, and then the screech of metal rending drew Gisu’s eyes towards the swanky private boxes overlooking the arena towards the other side of the cage. A fourth blast, as the central box started to slide forwards towards the caged arena. The crowd was screaming and panicking in earnest, now, everyone pushing for the exits like an inescapable wave of people. Gisu watched, transfixed, as the box crashed against the cage bars, forcefully bending the metal as a fifth explosion set another fire in the stands—

“Gisu!” And then Adam’s hand was on her arm, yanking her back. He was holding Raz under his other arm, “We need to get out of here!” Suddenly Gisu was being swept up with the crowd, Adam’s hand holding her shoulder until they were towards an exit blocked by a crush of bodies—

“I got this!” Raz declared, wriggling out of Adam’s grasp and readying a psi-shot. The bolt hit the exit sign, causing the crowd to scatter from the flash of sparks, and Raz wasted no time in rushing through the gap. “C’mon!”

Adam and Gisu wordlessly rushed forwards—Gisu stopped, heels digging into the ground as she turned to look back at the arena through the crowd. Several of the lights had come down, crashing against the bars of the cage. The fire that had been eating the ropes strung inside the cage bathed the whole of the stands in a hellish glow, backlighting the other audience members and turning grinning masks into surreal facsimiles of faces.

“Norma and Lizzie are still in there.” Gisu couldn’t see Norma or Lizzie through the chaos. She couldn’t see what was happening in the arena—

Adam stopped, expression hidden behind the mask. “I still can’t reach them—” He started, only to cut off. His eyes widened, and he put a hand to his temple as Morris’ frantic mental voice slammed into all of them.

You guys better get out of there, because Sam and Tala are about to bring this whole place down!

Raz choked on air. “Tala?” Huh, why did that name sound familiar—

Don’t bring the place down! Adam shot back, grabbing Gisu’s shoulder and pulling her and Raz out through the exit. Lizzie and Norma are still in the arena!

The sound of crashing metal rang out, and Gisu managed to find a gap in the rush of people large enough to spot the crashed box breaking through the cage bars to crash into the arena below—

+=+=+=+=+

Rewind a bit.

“First Death Pit, huh?”

Gisu looked up at the audience member next to her, their mask bearing a bright silver grin. She gripped the edge of her board a little more tightly. “Something like that.” She admitted, while in the arena below Norma set more of the hanging ropes on fire.

They nodded, either oblivious to or ignoring Gisu’s discomfort. “Yeah, most kids like you show up on a dare.” They said, and Gisu wasn’t even sure what to say in response to that, “But it’s not really that bad. You’re just not used to it!” Gisu really hoped that wasn’t meant to be comforting.

“Yeahhh.” Gisu cringed behind her mask, her attention turning back to the arena. The Lion seemed to have Lizzie pinned, now—a burst of ice sent him flipping away, a knot loosening slightly in Gisu’s chest.

The stands that she, Adam, and Raz had gotten into weren’t really… well, there were rows of seats in part of the section, but Adam and Raz and Gisu were all in a more open area between two sections of seats, milling about in the crowd while trying to find a way to fix the situation they were in.

And keeping an eye on the fight below. Not that they could interfere without blowing their cover, for all that Gisu wanted to shoot lightning down to force the Lion away from her friends.

The silver-grin mask was still talking. “You’re pretty lucky; the Death Pit doesn’t run every night! And you get to watch the Lion, even more lucky!” Gisu wished they would shut up. “You know, I saw the Lion’s very first fight? Against the Crane…” They breathed in deeply, as though reminiscing a more romantic memory. “Most fighters just punch and kick and stab, but the Lion innovates. He makes dodging look like a dance.” Please, shut up!

“Uh, the Lion’s first fight was against the Beetle.” Someone else interjected from behind Gisu. She flinched, looking back to see a grinning glittery pink mask. “He climbed up the cage and threw himself down on them to break their neck.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Silver Grin asked, as Gisu started to edge away. She backed up warily, afraid Silver Grin might notice her and drag her back into conversation—

Adam’s hand landed on her shoulder, stilling her. “You okay?” He asked, looking at where Raz was staring out the bars to the arena.

“Not really.” Gisu admitted. She shrunk in on herself as the audience cheered, taunts and jeers forming a cacophony that made her wish she could turn off her ears as well as her telepathy. “How’re Sam and Morris?” She almost didn’t want to know—this night had taken such an awful turn, all because they thought they were so clever and prepared when they were anything but.

“They were fine last I checked…” Adam trailed off, likely concentrating. “Well, they haven’t been caught.” He said, after a moment.

“Have they found anything?” Raz asked. With his helmet and the mask, he looked almost unreal in the hazy lighting of the stands, the goggles becoming a second pair of eyes in the low light.

“Morris mentioned a plan…” Adam hmmed, “But he didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it—”

An explosion rocked the stands.

+=+=+=+=+

All three of the fighters froze at the explosion, looking around for the source.

A second explosion lit up the stands, near the fancy private boxes. “What in the…” The Lion muttered, his voice snapping Lizzie back to the fight. She grabbed his shoulders like she’d been trying to do, yanking him away from Norma. He didn’t go very far, and twisted around in Lizzie’s grasp to slip out of her hands, but his hands weren’t inches away from Norma’s neck anymore—

Another two explosions sounded off in succession, and the sound of screeching metal made them all look up to see the central box crashing against the bars of the cage, casting a heavy shadow and making the bars creak ominously.

“Well, fuck.” The Lion breathed, backing up slowly. Despite the box blocking the lights, the fires Norma had set upon the ropes were still burning merrily, casting everything in flickering warm tones. The poetic part of Lizzie’s brain couldn’t help but compare it to hell—all of it, everything, because this whole damn place felt like some surreal fighting pit hell.

Norma ambled over to her, cradling her broken arm against her chest. “What now?” She asked, either too tired to think it or—okay, yeah, it was probably exhaustion. Lizzie sure felt ready to collapse.

The Lion was standing a ways away from them, watching them warily. Lizzie tried to call some frost to her hands, in case he charged them again—

A thousand tiny needles of pain stabbed at her reddened fingers. Okay, so no more ice. Fuck. She still had telekinesis, maybe—

Several crashes rang out above them. Lizzie glanced up to see so many shards of glass and sparks from the fallen lights raining down on the arena floor. The Lion darted to the side, avoiding the worst of the spray, and Norma managed to raise her uninjured arm to deflect most of what would have fallen on her and Lizzie with a blast of hot air, her flames stuttering. The heat of the fire all around them wasn’t quite enough to remedy the way Lizzie’s hands were stinging and shaking—

You guys better get out of there, because Sam and Tala are about to bring this whole place down! Morris’ mental message was frantic, cutting across all their minds at once in a controlled broadcast. The Lion flinched back—wait, had Morris also broadcasted the message to him?—and that was the only warning they got before the metal bars above them started to screech, the metal bending and buckling under the weight of the viewing box—

SHIT—

Lizzie called upon reserves she didn’t even know she had, tackling Norma towards the edge of the arena and flinging out her hand in the same motion. Frost sparked on her fingers, biting cold digging in under her nails, her head about ready to explode as an ice shard the size of her head launched at the box, shattering against its side and doing nothing to dissuade it from its path. No no no—

Norma grabbed Lizzie with her good arm and pulled, stumbling on the sand and glass while Lizzie stumbled forwards, hands stinging from her attempt at an ice wall. Together, they stumbled to the edge of the arena as the box fully broke through the bars to crash into the sand. A sixth explosion hit the broken top of the cage, sending flaming rope raining down across the arena as Lizzie and Norma ran for some kind of shelter—

There! One of the cage doors was open, a Wolf standing in the shadows of the entrance. With an energy Lizzie didn’t really have, she rushed forwards, bunching her hand into a fist and slugging the Wolf right in the throat. The Wolf stumbled back with a wheeze, and that was enough for Lizzie to swing her foot up between his legs, making him double over.

“C’mon!” She called out, as Norma caught up, cradling her broken arm again. “Let’s get out of here!”

+=+=+=+=+

An explosion rocked the stands.

Morris watched as Sam, concentrating hard, set off more explosions, focusing on the areas Tala had pointed out. Screams sounded out from the stands, fire beginning to eat at whatever wood it could find. The sound of tearing metal made Morris wince, gripping the edge of his chair until his knuckles were white. The three of them were situated in one of the hallways, Morris using clairvoyance and Mirtala using a TV screen up in the corner to keep track of the arena.

“Wooo.” Sam breathed, stepping back a bit. Her hair was frazzled, her eyes wide and glowing. “That’s a lot.” She declared, clutching at her hand as she turned to Tala. “I usually explode heads, yanno.” She pointed out.

Tala nodded grimly. “If we could just crack that box open…” She muttered, “then you could just blow Creed up directly.”

Morris buried his face in his hands, his chest seizing. His clairvoyance broke again—he didn’t want to watch this anymore, anyway. If the situation weren’t so panic-inducing, he’d try not to admit to how much Tala was scaring him—but really, it was well within his prerogative to panic at the fact that they were exploding audience stands in order to save two of their friends from being murdered in front of a cheering crowd—!

“Hey.” Tala had Sam’s hands in hers, now, big blue eyes full of encouragement. “Do you have any siblings?” She asked.

“Yeah…” Sam answered. “A little brother.”

Tala nodded. “And you’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?” She was the perfect picture of innocence—but Morris barely had to try to pick up the rage simmering behind her eyes. “Tear the whole world apart to keep him safe?”

“I’m following…” Sam nodded, as Morris reluctantly tried to latch onto another audience member to clairvoyance.

“He doesn’t show it, but Dee’s really a big crybaby.” Tala said. “My sister used to call him a loser, and she wasn’t wrong.” Her eyes fluttered closed as she took a breath. “But he still went into that arena and won for my sake.” She looked at Sam, big blue eyes boring directly into her. “And I’d do the same for him if I could, because that’s what family does.” Her words were way too heavy to be coming from someone with such a small frame.

“Imagine your little brother is there, in that arena,” Mirtala began, and Sam stiffened. “And the only way to get him out is to blow Creed the fuck up.” She squeezed Sam’s hands, “Can you do that, Sam?”

Oh no. Morris could see where this was going. Abandoning his lackluster attempts at clairvoyance, he reached out with his mind, until he had found Adam, Gisu, Raz, Norma, Lizzie, and Dee’s minds. You guys better get out of there, because Sam and Tala are about to bring this whole place down! It was the only warning he could give, because Mirtala was getting Sam to chant with her to pump her up, and Sam’s eyes were glowing again, bright enough to splash onto Tala’s face—

A sixth explosion rang out, big enough for the shockwave to rattle the walls of the hall. Sam concentrated, looking ready for a seventh—

Oh, god. How many people were going to die because of this? Yeah, Morris was a junior agent, which meant one day he’d be a full agent going on dangerous missions where people would inevitably die—

But this was so brutal, in a way that Morris had never quite experienced before—not even being dementestrated by Maligula had rattled Morris this much. And he’d known that it was a bad idea to go down those stupid red-light stairs where minds descended and disappeared, but noooooo, they all had to be big brave idiots and bite off more than they could chew—

“MORRIS!” Sam was yelling, hands on the arms of Morris’ levchair. “HOW MANY FERRETS DOES IT TAKE TO SCREW IN A LIGHTBULB?”

“Wh—” Morris snapped out of his spiral as Sam’s words registered. “What?” His chest was still pounding, his head still spinning—but the ridiculousness of Sam had brought him back down to reality, somewhat, stopping the panic spiral in its tracks. Stopping it in the same way that a train stopped by crashing into a mountain, but—that was how Sam rolled, really.

“Thanks.” Morris muttered, reforming his levball. Ugh, this whole night was going to hell—

Wait. Morris glanced at Tala again. Really looked at her, at the shape of her face and the curl of her hair and the way she held herself light upon her feet like she could spring into motion at any moment. There was no way. There was absolutely no way.

“Hey, Tala.” Morris began. This was so not the time for this. “How many brothers did you say you had, again?” This was absolutely not the time for this!

Tala regarded Morris suspiciously. “What’s it to you?”

“Hey, wait, yeah.” Sam picked up on Morris’ thoughts, looking Tala over again. “You look a lot like Mrs. Aquato.” Which wasn’t how Morris wanted to lead off, but—well, it was Sam. Whatever it was, she’d make it work, and this was no different. Blundering through social conventions apparently had no negative outcomes for her—none that she cared about, at least.

Tala’s eyes widened. She exhaled sharply through her nose, staring Sam and Morris down. Her mouth opened, but whatever she was about to say was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Morris! Sam!” Adam’s voice cut through the air, Gisu and Raz right behind him. “What were you thinking?!” He demanded, the moment he was in proper freakout range. “Blowing up—”

“TALA?” Raz interrupted, shoving his mask up away from his face. Tala froze, wide blue eyes locked onto Raz—

“Raz?!” She nearly shrieked, before rushing up and grabbing the collar of Raz’ coat. “What are you doing here, you—you idiota!”

“Wait.” Adam was rapidly looking back and forth between Raz and Tala. “You two—” He looked at Tala, voice faint with realization, “You’re Mirtala Aquato?”

“The Lion’s her brother.” Morris added, pointedly ignoring the way his heart was trying to break his ribs from the inside.

“But that means…” Gisu realized, eyes widening.

Raz realized it too, his head snapping around to look in the direction of the arena. “Dion—”

“Hey!” As one, the group looked up at Lizzie and Norma’s approach—

And the group of Wolves behind and beside them, one holding Norma in a headlock and another grasping Lizzie’s arms behind her. The Wolves stopped, noticing the group, starting to fan out slowly—

Lightning blasted out, a bright crackling line connecting all the Wolves for a moment as they thrashed and yelled. Within moments, they were all on the floor twitching, and Lizzie and Norma were making their way over to the group.

Slowly, they all looked at Gisu, who was standing, fingers outstretched, tiny sparks crackling around her hand. “Fuck this shit.” She said. “We’re getting Raz’ brother and we’re getting the hell out of here—”

Junior Agents, can you hear me?

As one, they all froze at Hollis’ mental voice.

“Oh.” Gisu said, all her bravado knocked down. The sentiment was shared between all of them, but it was Lizzie who spoke first.

“We’re fucked.”

+=+=+=+=+

Dion stood, checking himself over. He didn’t seem to be bleeding, which was good, but—

He was so tired.

It had been a long night—it felt like he was in the locker room eons ago, instead of the barely three hours it had probably been. The three back-to-back fights had been a lot, and Dion wanted nothing more than to disappear back to his and Mirtala’s shared room where he could collapse on his bed and forget that he existed as a human person with blood on his hands for the next hour—

At least, he would if the arena wasn’t in shambles. And if he had actually won that fight, instead of being interrupted by—

Dion’s head snapped around, away from the glittering ice starting to melt in the heat of the flames. Creed’s private viewing box was sitting in the arena, metal twisted and glass shattered, a large hole blown open in what used to be the back of the box but was now the top. Scattered fire filled the rest of the arena, from the bits of the lights and the stands that had fallen in along with the ropes. If Dion looked closely, he could see a bodied hand sticking out from the mess of rent metal and broken glass and burning fire—

Dion stumbled back as a section of the debris shifted, a familiar form rising up and picking its way out of the metal. Somehow, despite being in a metal box dropped directly into the arena by several explosions, Creed looked only vaguely scuffed, a little ruffled, his king cobra mask just a little crooked and his suit only mildly torn. There was some blood on his pant leg, but it didn’t look like his.

Figured. Dion scowled at the bastard who shouldn’t have gotten out so unscathed. Of course Creed would somehow defy physics and logic for his own self-interest.

“Well.” Creed commented airily, as though he and Dion weren’t standing in the middle of a burning arena. “I don’t imagine you have any idea what that was?”

“Not a clue.” Dion growled out. He wasn’t even lying, either.

Creed shrugged—then winced. Apparently he wasn’t as unscathed as he appeared. “Well, I suppose the Owl will have his hands full for the next several months,” He spat, “sorting all of this out.” He glanced about, searching for a safe path through the flames. The moment he spotted one, he nodded his head towards Dion, hand raising halfway in a “follow me” gesture.

“Wait.” Dion was so tired, his muscles still aching from the fights prior.

Creed paused, looking back. Dion didn’t need to be psychic to feel the agitation radiating off of him—the aura of danger was almost enough to give Dion pause.

Almost.

“You said nobody leaves until somebody dies.” Dion spat, glaring at the man before him.

Creed made a noise that might have been a laugh or a growl. He gestured to the stands. “Plenty have already died, boy.” His voice was soft and stern—Dion almost couldn’t hear it over the roaring flames and blaring alarms.

“Not in this arena. Not in the third match.” Dion suddenly felt very light. Like he could reach the tent’s apex in an instant, like he could soar through the air without ever touching the ground. Like he could do anything. “The fight’s not over until somebody dies.” It was the very rule Creed had set, the very rule that defined the Death Pit—that defined Dion’s role here, in this awful pit.

Creed scoffed. “Look around.” He cautioned, gesturing at the flames caging them in. “The fight’s over. Who would you even kill?”

“You.” Dion lunged, ducking low so he could sweep Creed’s legs—

A fist like a sledgehammer sent Dion sprawling to the ground, pain bursting through his shoulder and down his arm. Bits of glass in the sand dug painfully into his side as he wheezed, the air knocked out of him by the impact.

Dion didn’t get the time to recover before Creed was on him, hand closing around Dion’s neck like iron and lifting him up slowly.

“Cute.” Creed hissed, as Dion kicked at the sand ineffectually. His grip tightened, and Dion grasped at his hand as his airway cut off. “Don’t forget your place, boy.” His grip tightened further, and Dion kicked out desperately, spraying sand onto Creed’s pants. “You’re not inexpendable. There will be other Lions.”

Dion couldn’t breathe. His vision was swimming, spots dancing in from the edges, his hands grasping desperately at Creed’s in an effort to get him to let go—

Trapped cornered trapped trapped let me out let me out LET ME OUT—

Panic blanked Dion’s mind. Terror and adrenaline moved his body.

Creed bellowed as Dion’s boot slammed into his gut. Dion fell to the sand, landing on his elbow awkwardly as he gasped for air. Creed loomed over him, having recovered from the blow faster than Dion expected, and before Dion could even conceive of trying to dodge there was an iron grip on his leg lifting him up

into the air

and slamming him back down onto the sand.

Sand and a bit of rent metal, really, that dug into his back as the breath was once again knocked from his lungs. A hand grabbed at Dion’s arm, wrenching him up onto his feet—Dion squirmed, kicking out blindly and yanking his arm with as much strength as he could manage—

Crack went his arm against Creed’s grip, agony lancing all the way up to his shoulder. Creed grunted, yanking Dion back up to stand, and Dion lashed out with his free arm. He must have hit a bruise or something, because Creed jolted at the hit and let go of Dion’s arm entirely.

Dion wasted no time in putting distance between himself and Creed. His probably-definitely broken arm hung limply at his side—okay, yeah, that thing was broken—agony lancing up to his shoulder from his wrist.

Okay. Okay. Dion ducked to the side to dodge Creed’s open palm—ow, fuck, that’s right, his arm was broken, why did he try to dodge roll to his right—

Creed’s backhand nearly knocked his mask loose. It cracked, a piece down near the mouth breaking off as Dion stumbled back and away, the heat of the fire against his back—

Creeds fist came to hit Dion in the gut like a sledgehammer, winding Dion as he doubled over. Vomit and bile splashed against the inside of his mask, dripping down his chin onto the sand below him. A moment later, and Dion was being wrenched back up to look at Creed by the iron grip on his ponytail.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Creed asked, voice smooth, almost gentle.

Dion glared at Creed through his mask. The flames were starting to die down, now, but the heat and exhaustion were as present as ever. Creed’s lips were curled into a snarl, his free hand lifting up to gently trace the broken edge of Dion’s mask—

Dion hated Creed. He hated him so much. He tried to pull away, exhaustion and panic and pain making him forget the hold Creed had on him—he needed to get away—

Trapped cornered trapped trapped let me go LET ME GO TRAPPED CORNERED LET ME GO—

Dion’s knuckles cracked against Creed’s mask, his right arm flailing with the motion. His leg snapped out, boot slamming against Creed’s knee and forcing the man back and down—

Creed didn’t let go of Dion’s ponytail, but Dion leaned into that, pushing forwards to swipe at Creed’s mask and kick at his other knee. Creed fell, letting go of Dion’s ponytail with one hand and balling the other into a fist—

Dion flipped over Creed’s fist and Creed himself, his whole body aching with the effort. Creed moved to stand and twist around at the same time—

Dion scrabbled up onto Creed’s shoulders, ankles hooking together in front of Creed’s neck. Creed reached up, grabbing at Dion’s broken arm and squeezing—

Dion twisted his legs just so as he screamed, voice raw from the smoke and the exhaustion. He fell to the floor, thrown by the agony in his arm from Creed tugging at it—

But so did Creed, neck twisted at an awkward angle. Dion yelped as Creed landed on his ankle, struggling to pull back before Creed somehow twisted around to grab Dion’s leg and break that too—

But Creed didn’t move at all. Dion panted, chest heaving as he pulled his leg out from under Creed’s body. Creed’s unmoving body that wasn’t breathing—

“I did it…” Dion stood on shaking legs, staring at Creed as though any minute the man would come back to life to hit Dion again. “I—”

His legs locked up under him, keeping Dion from stumbling to the floor. But the adrenaline was still fading, the agony in his arm and the pain he hadn’t noticed in his chest—fuck, had he hit his ribs at some point? Probably, knowing his luck—starting to hit him in full.

The fires had run out of fuel to burn, now, smoking embers having replaced the roaring blaze. Dion coughed, smoke heavy in the air. He’d… he’d really done it. He’d fought Creed and he’d won—

Something small and hot slammed into Dion’s back. He whirled around—fuck, his ankle—to face the source—

A man he didn’t recognize was floating up near the broken ends of the cage bars. He was saying something, voice projecting into Dion’s skull in a way that was pissing Dion off, but Dion couldn’t make out a single word. The world spun as his legs finally gave out—

He was unconscious before he hit the sand.

[nerds-yearbook]

Fan favorite Morris Fletcher (Micheal McKean) was introduced on November 29, 1998, in the episode of the X-Files titled Dreamland. Dreamland was part of a two episode story arc that saw Fletcher, a Man in Black from Area 51, switching bodies with Special Agent Fox Mulder (David Duchovny). Thanks to Fletcher, Mulder finally got his bedroom cleaned out so he didn't have to sleep on the couch anymore and also purchased a water bed for him. Morris eventually retired from being a Man and Black, his marriage and family (played by Nora Dunn, Tyler Binkley, and Dara Hollingsworth) that was already in turmoil aparrently fell apart, he went freelance, and indirectly caused the folding of the Lone Gunmen paper as well as the deaths of their main editors Melvin Frohike (Tom Braidwood), Richard "Ringo" Langley (Dean Haglund), and John Fitzgerald Beyers (Bruce Harwood). Fletcher would attend their funeral at Arlington National Cemetery along with Special Agents John Doggett (Robert Patrick), Monica Reyes (Annabeth Gish), Dana Scully (Gillian Adderson), Assistant Director Walter Skinner (Mitch Pileggi), Yves Adele Harlow (Zuleikha Robinson), and Jimmy Bond (Stephen Snedden). Fletcher was created by Vince Gilligan, John Shiban, and Frank Spotnitz. He not only was in "Dreamland I & II", but also had a cameo in "Three of a Kind", starred in the series finale of the Lone Gunmen "All About Yves" and the X-Files unofficial Lone Gunmen finale "Jump the Shark". (X-Files mythology, TV Event)