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Whumptober Day 04: I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes
Shock + "You in there?"
3220 Words; Rewired AU
TW for isolation, memory loss, experimentation, electrical torture
AO3 ver
This sucks.
Dion glared at the locked door, arms crossed. All of his attempts to force it open had proven futile, leaving him nothing to do but lean against the wall and glare at it.
The room he was inâif it could even be called a room, when there was just barely enough space to lie downâwas small, four plain stone walls with a single metal door. There was a single⊠cot was too generous a word, honestly. It was a slab of metal just barely big enough to lie on, held up by two diagonal metal struts braced against the wall underneath it. There was a drain in the center of the floor; Dion refused to touch it if he could help it. By bracing himself against the walls of the corner, he could climb up high enough to get at the ceiling. But the panel over the single small light refused to budge, no matter how hard Dion tried to pry it off. Spots still danced across his eyes from his efforts.
The only ventilation came in the form of four small slits in the door. There was a slot at the bottom of the door, as well, but the panel covering it wouldnât budge. If Dion were more resourceful, if he had a better idea of what was going onâ
But he wasnât, and he had no idea. Heâd been handling groceries out in town, on his way back to campâ
And then he was in here, in this barren room, with no way out. The jacket heâd gotten for his seventeenth birthday was missing, as was his wallet, pocket knife, and compact. Whoever had taken him and put him here had gone through his pockets, and the knowledge left Dion feeling violated.
But there was nothing he could do about it, and that, more than anything, crawled under his skin like so many wriggly spiders. The inaction grated against him, his leg bouncing in agitation. He needed to move, to get up and do somethingâ
But he couldnât do anything. Not yet. Not until the door opened, or he found out what the hell was going on, orâsomething, he didnât know.
This sucked. Dion glared at the door from where he was sitting on the slab.
The door had no response for him.
+=+=+=+=+
âWho are you?â
Bright light danced in front of his eyes, and his vision swam worse than it already was.. He didnât recognize the voice speaking to him, the words spinning through his head uselessly. He swallowed, but the nausea remained.
Still, he spoke. âDion Aquato.â Son of Donatella and Augustus Aquato. Eldest of five siblings. Dion Aquato. Iâm Dion Aquatoâ
âNo, youâre not.â
+=+=+=+=+
Meals came in through the slot at the bottom of the doorâgross. Even if it was on a tray, it was still being slid along a floor that had been exposed to god knew what. Dion didnât eat, the first few times, fear of poison and disdain for invisible concrete floor grime holding him back.
But the hunger pricked at his stomach. It was impossible to sleep well on the slab or the floor. He needed to keep his strength up however he could, if he ever wanted out of here.
The meals were simple. A plastic spork came on the equally plastic tray. Neither the utensil nor the tray could be used to escape, as far as Dion could tell, so he left them by the slot when he finished. The food wasâŠ
He didnât know how long heâd been in here, but he was already homesick. Truth be told, heâd been homesick the moment heâd finished inspecting the room, but the feeling had only built over time. He missed his motherâs cooking. He missed cooking. He missed food that wasnât bland unseasoned drivel. Heâd had his fill of dry chicken and plain mashed potatoes and sad greens. He wanted to eat food, real food with actual flavor that he wasnât shoving down his throat just for the nutritional value.
How many days had it been? Three? Four? Dion wondered if his birthday had passed already, if he had turned 18 in this cell, away from his friends and family. It had only been a week off, when heâd found himself in this tiny stone hell.
Ugh. This sucked. The food was awful. He had no idea what he was even here for, or where here even was. He wanted to go home. He wasnât smart enough or strong enough to figure a way out of this cell.
Dion was clean, at least, his hair hanging loose around his face and on his shoulders. He couldnât remember when the grease had been rinsed outâbut he really didnât want to think about that. So he didnât.
âAn explanation would be nice.â He grumbled. âWouldnât mind some fucking answers.â
The door had no answer for him.
+=+=+=+=+
Dion woke up to a bright light right in his eyes. Whereâ
He was lying back on a hard surface, at an angle. There was pressure across his legs and chest. Attempts to move were thwartedâoh. He was strapped down.
Dion turned his head to the side to avoid the light shining down on him, cool metal pressing against his cheek. He scrunched his eyes shut, spots dancing across his vision. His head was poundingâprobably because of the light.
He heard footsteps to his left. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
There was a woman standing there with a clipboard in hand, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Dion blinked.
Nope, she was still there, still regarding the clipboard in her hand through cat eye glasses. A pen floated over the clipboard.
Dion turned his head to look to the right. The room he was in had⊠six walls? No, wait, it was eight, wasnât it? Yeah. Eight. Eight plain white walls that went up to⊠he couldnât tell, with the bright light looming above him. He scrunched his eyes shut and turned his head back to his left, opening them as the woman walked over to a shelf taking up three of the walls.
The room gave him an uneasy feeling. The bright light reminded him of dentists; the ladyâs labcoat and the sanitized room reminded him of hospitals. There was even a counter back to his right that took up three of the walls, with a sink and cabinets.
A binder floated off the shelf and opened in front of the woman. She flipped through the pages inside for a moment before the binder returned to the shelf.
Dion opened his mouth. He was so done with his stupid little cell, with this bright light searing down into his eyesâbut most of all, he was so done with not knowing what the hell was going on. He wanted answers, dammit, so he opened his mouth and spoke.
âWhat do you want from me?â
The womanâs head snapped around so fast that Dion almost thought it might fall off. She was regarding him, now, and Dion snapped his mouth shut. He felt like a bug under her gaze, like a number on her clipboard that wasnât what she expected.
She walked over to him, lips pursed.
âAt least say something!â His mouth moved before his brain could process what he was saying. Her brow furrowed, and Dion tensed.
âYou,â she loomed over him, close enough that he could see the gold of her eyes, âshould not be up.â She held something small in her hands, and Dion strained to make out what was surely going to be used to hurt himâ
One click. Two clicks.
Dion never heard the third.
+=+=+=+=+
âWho are you?â
His head swam. His mouth opened, then closed. He tried again. âDion Aquato.â Dion Iâm Dion Iâm Dion Aquato Iâm an acrobat Iâm a brother Iâm Dion Dion Aquatoâ
âNo, youâre not.â
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There were holes in his memory.
Dion almost didnât notice them, at first. Day and night blurred together in his cell, with nothing to mark the passage of time. How long had he been here? How many days? Had he turned 18, here in this cell, away from his friends and family?
All of his street clothes had been missing when heâd woken up hereâhe was dressed in a simple shirt and pants made of a rough fabric he couldnât identify, the light gray seeming to melt into the stone around him.
(But hadnât he searched his pockets when heâd first woken up here? He remembered them being empty of his thingsâ)
That was the first clue. The second was the collection of plastic sporks in the corner of his roomâhe was sure heâd put them there, but he couldnât remember eating that many meals. The third clue was that he still didnât know how he was clean, despite being in his cell long enough to start to smell.
There were holes in his memory. Once he finally realized this, he realized the danger he was in. Panic spiraled in his brain. What if he forgot everything? What if he forgot his family? His home?
But what could he do? Heâd never even left this cell.
(Had he?)
Still, he needed to remember. He thought back to his life outside, to homeâ
He could remember his motherâs face, at least. Could still remember every member of his family, from his parents to his Nona to his siblings. Mom. Dad. Nona. Frazie. Raz. Tala. Queepie. Could remember the circus, the blue and green stripes of the Aquatodome.
He glared reproachfully at the door of his cell. His name was Dionysus Aquato. He was the eldest of five. He was 17âno, he was probably 18 alreadyâand he refused to forget his home and family. Heâd die before he let that happen.
âYouâre not keeping me here forever.â He whispered. âIâll get out eventually.â
The door had no response for him.
+=+=+=+=+
Dion woke up strapped to a table.
There was a bright light overhead. His head swam, a pounding headache behind his eyes. His mouth had that awful taste that it always got when he overslept.
This wasnât his tent or the caravan, though. This was an octagonal room, the ceiling obscured by the light bearing down on him. There was something familiar about the room, but he couldnât fathom why.
He turned his head to his left. There was a woman standing there, regarding a binder floating in front of her through cat eye glasses, hair pulled back into a bun. There was someone next to her in⊠a pantsuit? The woman was wearing a lab coat, which some part of Dion felt was far more appropriate for the sterile setting.
Dion didnât recognize her, though. But hadnât he seen her before?
And the guy standing next to herâDion had never seen them before. But he knew their face. Didnât he? He didnât know.
âWhy is it conscious?â They asked. It took Dion a moment to realize that they were talking about him. That⊠that didnât bode well.
Her lips pursed. âBecause Iâm investigating a problem.â She pressed somethingâ
Pain! Dion yelped, his body jerking against the straps. It arced up his legs and arms, through his chest, into his headâ
Just as quick as it came, it was gone. His shoulders heaved.
A problem. Sheâd called him a problem. That couldnât be good.
Remember. He needed to remember. His name was Dion, Dionâ
Dion Something. He tried to remember, searching his mindâ
Another scream was ripped from his throat as a fresh wave of electricity burst through him. He spasmed, the straps pinning him down. His wrists and ankles were starting to acheâwere they going to bruise?
The pain left again. Dionâs thoughts chased each other in circles. His head spun. He needed toâhe needed toâ
Remember. His name was Dion, Dionâ
Dion Aquato!
His name was Dion Aquato. He was the eldest of fourâno, five. He came from the Aquato family circus.
Mom Dad Nona Frazie Raz Tala Queepie Mom Dad Nona Frazie Raz Tala Queepie Mom Dad Nonaâ
He screamed as another wave of pain rushed through him. The electricity didnât stop, even as his voice cut out, even as he continued to spasm. His head swam, pain pounding his brain to bitsâ
All at once, the pain stopped. He shook, and turned towards the pair.
The womanâs binder had fallen to the ground. Her nose had bled, a red smear on her upper lip.
âWell.â She said, âThatâs⊠interesting.â
Dion didnât have the energy to question it. He needed to remember, anyway. Mom Dad Nona Frazieâ
Something clicked. Once, twiceâ
He never heard the third.
+=+=+=+=+
âWho are you?â
It sounded disappointed in him. He couldnât fathom why.
âDion Aquato.â He was answering the question, right? He was Dion Aquato. It was his name, his identityâhe was Dion Aquato eldest son acrobat 17 years old Dion Dion Iâm Dion Iâm Dion Iâm Dion Aquatoâ
âNo, youâre not.â
+=+=+=+=+
The pile of sporks in the corner was gone. If it had ever been there at allâhe had probably just imagined it.
He didnât know when heâd gotten here. Didnât know how long heâd been here. Had a week passed? Was he 18, now, had he missed his birthday in this stupid little cell?
His old clothes were gone, replaced with a dull blue shirt and pants the same gray as the stone around him. It was weird, to look down at his legs and see nothing but gray, gray like the walls, gray like he was just another fixture in the room, just another setpieceâ
(Hadnât his shirt been gray? Hadnât he been wearing his street clothes when he first woke up in this cell?)
His head swam. Lights danced behind his vision.
His name was Dion Aquato. He had a family and a home. His name was Dion Aquato.
(Was it?)
He looked at the door. Metal, like theâwell, cot was too generous. More like a slab, reallyâslab sticking out from the wall, held up by diagonal metal struts. Metal, like the ring around his neck.
(He couldnât remember when it was put on. He couldnât get it off. Maybe it had always been there.)
âHow much longer?â He asked. How much longer would he be stuck in here? He wanted to go home. He wasnât even sure where home was.
The door had no response for him.
+=+=+=+=+
He came to strapped to a chair. The room he was in was familiar, octagonal-shape tickling some corner of his brain. But every attempt to recall if he had been here before resulted in fog filling his head. But he needed to remember, right?
There was a woman standing at a control panel-like structure to his left, her mouth moving. He couldnât hear what she was saying through the panel of glass between him and her.Â
Remember. He needed to remember. His name was Dion Aquato. He was 17 (18? 16?). He didnât know where he was. Home was Mom Dad Nona Frazie Pooter Tala Queepie, it was blue and green tents and a towering caravan. He needed to remember.
He muttered their names under his breath, pushing at the straps wrapped around his arms and chest. As usual, they refused to yield.
Mom Dad Nona Frazie Raz Tala Queepie
Dion Dion Dion my name is Dion my name is Dion
Mom Dad Nona Frazie Raz Tala Queepieâ
Pain shot through him, electricity coursing through his body until his head spun. Even when it stopped, the room continued to spin, the bright light above him leaving spots in his vision.
He neededâhe neededâ
Remember!
His name was Dion Aquato. Home was green and blue and Mom and Dad and Nona and Raz and Queepieâ
He was missing something. He needed to remember it.
âShut up.â
Another bolt of electricity. Another scream that left his throat raw.
He didnât even realize heâd been muttering. But he needed to remember, he couldnât shut up, he needed to hold onto everything that he had for as long as he could, needed to hold himself together no matter what. He mumbled their names, his brain struggling through the haze of pain and light dancing behind his eyes. Mom. Dad. Nona. Frazie. Tala. Queepie. Mom. Dad. Raz. Tala. Mom. Dad. Nona. Frazie. Mom. Dad. Nonaâ
âI said shut up.â Something clickedâ
Dionâs body convulsed against the straps again. His throat hurt too much to scream, the electricity seizing through him.
The electricity stopped. He twitched. The taste of copper filled his mouth.
Remember. He needed to remember. Mom. Dad. Frazie. Queepie. Mom. Nona. Raz. Queepie. Dad. Nona. Tala. Mom. Dad. Momâ
âFine, then. If you canât shut up, then you wonât speak at all.â
Something clicked. Once. Twiceâ
He never heard the third.
+=+=+=+=+
âWho are you?â
He wasnât sure. âDion.â That⊠sounded right.
âWho are you?â
They sounded frustrated. He wasnât sure why.
âDion.â He was Dion, wasnât he?
âNo, youâre not.â
+=+=+=+=+
Gray walls stared back at him. He tried to remember any place other than this, tried to remember being anywhere but these wallsâ
Nothing. Just gray.
He knew he had come from somewhere, though. He had a mother and a father out there, somewhereâsomewhere that wasnât here.
But what did his motherâs face even look like? How did her voice sound? He couldnât remember. He couldnât remember, and she seemed all the less real because of it.
How many siblings did he have? Did he even have siblings at all?
His head hurt. Lights danced behind his eyes. He clutched his face in his hands, massaging his temples. Nausea threatened to spill out of his mouth and onto the floor below. He choked it down.
His name was Dion. He had a mother and a father. He couldnât remember their faces. He needed to remember.
Did he? He couldnât remember. His head swam.
He pitched forward, his hands hitting the concrete floor as he fell off the slab. His name wasâhe wasâ
He retched.
Shoulders shaking, he leaned back. He rubbed his mouth, not caring about the bile and spit on his arm. He looked at the door.
âIâmââ He needed to remember. His head was swimming. âWhere am I?â Who am I?
The door had no answers for him.
+=+=+=+=+
Bright light loomed above him, searing his eyes.
Exhaustion weighed him down more than the straps holding him still. A bitter taste lingered in the back of his throat.
A womanâs voice floated over to him. âShutdown, Test 24-2.â The light was blinding, he couldnât see where the voice was coming fromâ
Pain arced through his limbs. Something in him clicked. His head pounded, pressure like a viceâ
Something clattered on the floor.
âStop now.â The pressure receded at the womanâs voice. He couldnât fathom why. He was too exhausted to care, his eyes slipping closed. Light danced behind them.
Click.
Click.
Click.
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âWho are you?â
He had no answer.
âWho are you?â
Why were they asking? He wasnât anybody.
âWho are you?â
The voice was starting to grate against his head. Nausea danced in his throat.
âWho are you?â
âIââ Who was he? Was he anything?
âWho are you?â
Bright light danced in front of his eyes. At once, the answer came to him.
âWho are you?â
âNobody.â
âYes, you are.â
#whumptober2023#no.4#shock#''you in there?''#psychonauts#zaz writes#isolation tw#memory loss tw#memory alteration tw#electrical torture tw#experimentation tw#rewired au#dion aquato#aranka naumann#well. maybe.#i don't really want to come up with a new scientist oc though so we're goign with my girl aranka for now#this was so so fun to write#but now i'm rushing to post this so i can catch the bus home LMAO#anyway đ
four days in and i'm FINALLY writing about dion suffering
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Whumptober Day 20: people don't change people, time does
Found Family
4390 Words; Pooter Pile AU
TW for child abuse, attempted murder, unethical experimentation, blood mention
AO3 ver
âGisu!â
Gisu looked up at the sound of the door slamming open. Dion let his leg fall back to the floor, his arms securely wrapped around the book he was carrying. Gisu felt a trickle of amusement as Dion stalked over to her, slamming the book on the desk.
It had only been two days since Raz ran off. Dion had come to surprisingly quickly after being thrown like thatâmaybe it was an acrobat thing. But he had had the worst headache, so it was nice to see him moving with his usual energy, again.
Itâd be even nicer if Raz hadnât run off, but still.
âI know where Raz went!â Dion exclaimed. âIs trying to go. Whatever. But I know where it is!â He flipped the book open, revealing it to be a photo album. Gisu got only a moment to glance at what she assumed were Dionâs baby pictures before he flipped to the page he wanted. âThere.â He pointed at the picture of the family all assembled before the Aquatodomeâit must have been a few years old, because Gisu couldnât see Queepie anywhere, but she could see a much younger Mirtala held aloft in Donatellaâs arms.
âCute photo.â Gisu commented, totally not focusing on the massive grin on younger-photo-Dionâs face. âWhat makes you think Raz is going there?â
Dion pointed at the photoâat the background of the photo, Gisu realized, his finger tapping the mountain dominating the landscape. âWhen Raz hit me with his⊠psychic thingy, I thinkâŠâ He trailed off, searching for the words. âPsychic bullshit involves mind stuff, right? Like thoughts and feelings.â
âYeahâŠâ Gisu nodded.
âAnd Iâve been seeing the same fucking mountain since he hit me,â Dion continued, âWhich means itâs probably, like, an afterthought of it.â
âAfter-effect,â Gisu corrected.
âYeah, that.â Dion agreed. His hands moved as he spoke and paced around, and it was utterly fascinating, even as his words kept coming out stream-of-consciousness style. âSo I keep seeing this mountain, and itâs so familiar, like an itch in the back of my mind, yanno? So I start digging through our old albums, because I swear Iâve seen this mountain somewhere before, and I know itâs important, so I kept searching andââ
âAnd then you found it?â Gisu asked, trying not to let too much fondness creep into her voice. A little bit is okay, but itâs too early to be getting sappy.
âYeah!â Dion nodded emphatically, once again by the desk and tapping the photo. âIt doesnât look exactly the same but I know that thatâs the one. Thatâs the mountain that Raz is going to.â He looked at Gisu with so much intensity that she thought he might burst, and said, âI keep feeling like I need to go there.â
Gisu leaned back in her chair. âDo you?â
âYes!â Dion threw his hands in the air. âNo? I donât know!â He paced a small half-circle, âBut thatâs where Raz is. Is going. Iâm sure of it!â He turned to Gisu once again. âI donât know what to do about this.â He admitted. âI donât know who Iâm supposed to tell.â
âWell, I thinkââ Gisu stretched, getting out of her chair. ââthat what happens next is obvious.â
âReally?â Dion lit up. âI knew youâd know what to do! Youâre really smart like that.â His face flushed, and Gisu had to take a moment to fight off the butterflies in her stomach and the heat on her own face.
âYeah.â She smirked, grabbing Dionâs wrist. She started pulling him back towards the door.
âWeâre going on a field trip!â
+=+=+=+=+
Three huffed as he leaped up over a boulder, his levball making the jump easier than climbing up by hand. Even still, this was exhausting.
But it needed to be done. He only had a little bit further to go, anywayâit had taken him a week just to get this far, and the sun had long set behind him, and he couldnât waste anymore time.
Really, though, did Ms. Naumann have to build her lab halfway up a mountain? Three had his levball to help, but this was ridiculous.
Still, there was nothing Three could do. He just had to get there, and make everything right. So heâd do it, even if it was tiring.
He had to.
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âI think we made pretty good time!â Gisu chirped. And really, they kind of did. Five days to make a trip spanning across a few statesâthank god for comprehensive bus routes. And her levboard. Couldnât forget how important her baby was to this whole operation.
âIâm still not sure how you convinced me to go along with this.â Dion muttered, staring up at the mountain looming before them, the sunlight behind him casting his face in shadow. âOr why weâre doing this alone.â
âBecause itâs faster that way.â Gisu offered, already setting up her board. Sure, they could have a nice little hike up the trails, but they were here on a mission. Raz had a two-day headstartâthey couldnât waste time. âCâmon.â She held out her hand, and Dion took it. Grumbling under his breath but joining her on the levboard regardless. âLetâs go find Pooter.â
+=+=+=+=+
Three crawled through the vents as quietly as he could. Benefit of the lab being half-underground, he supposedâthe vents themselves were surrounded by solid rock, making them more than capable of supporting his weight.
So he crawled along, his mental link with Four helping him navigate to the bunks without issue. It took a while, and he had to wiggle a bit to get through some of the tighter turns, but he made it.
The room the clones all slept in was halfway into a natural cavern, of sorts, with a large open space above the beams holding up the lights. Three telekinetically undid the screws on the vent cover, and quietly removed the panel, holding it in the air to keep it from clattering on the ground. He crawled out onto the bunk bed directly below it, the top cot softening the impact. Once he was clear, he replaced the vent cover, but set the screws to the sideâthis would be his exit.
âThree?â Fourâs voice cut through the roomâthe lights were off, right now, but Three could already feel his brotherâs mental presence beginning to surge.
âFour!â Three practically lunged for his brother, his arms wrapping around Fourâs shoulders with all the strength he had. I missed you Iâm so happy to see you again I missed you I missed you I missed you
âThree!â Four returned the hug, pulses of missed-you and ribbons of golden elation flowing through their connection. I missed you Iâm so glad youâre safe I missed you I missed you I missed you
Eventually, Three pulled back. His face crumpled, his eyes stung, and he slammed his face back into the crook of his brotherâs neck. âI missed you.â He murmured, his thoughts echoing the notion.
âI missed you too.â Four returned, echoing back the same. He pulled back. âYou gotta be quick,â he started. âMs. Naumannâs been acting really weird lately.â
Three took a breath. Right. No more tearsâmission now, sad later. âWeird how?â
Four winced. âLike sheâs scared of something.â He mumbled. âI thinkâŠâ He tried again, âShe told me to call you back in a few days. I think⊠I think sheâs going to terminate us.â
Threeâs blood ran cold. The world pressed in on him, crushing weight squeezing all the air from his lungsâ
Three scowled. âThatâs not going to happen.â He declared. âWeâre going to get Six and Raz and weâre going to get out of here.â He was done being scared of Ms. Naumann. She was wrong. She was wrong and Three felt none of the respect heâd had for her. She was wrong.
Four nodded. âItâs this wayââ he startedâ
Something fell from the beams above to the floor beside them with a thud and a grunt, making Three and Four flinch back in surprise. The figure uncurled, groaning as it stoodâ
âWhâhow did you get here?â Three whisper-shouted. âWhy are you here?!â Of all theâfor the sake ofâreally? Of all the people who could have somehow followed him, it was Dion?
âRaz.â Dion started, âYou have ten seconds to explainââ He stopped short, his eyes darting between Three and Four.
âWhy are there two of you?â Dionâs voice went up a few notches, grating against Threeâs ears. He was looking back and forth between the two of them, confusion leaching off of him in waves.
Three put his hands up in a placating gesture. âLook, Dion, I promise Iâll explain everything later.â He said, trying to ignore the way Four was starting to vibrate next to him. âWhen we have time.â He promised. âBut I need you to not mess everything up right nowââ
âUh uh.â Dion interrupted, hands on his hips. âNo way. Iâm not doing anything until you explain yourself.â
âWe donât have timeââ Three insisted, gritting his teeth. Why couldnât he have been followed by someone with sense, like Frazie? Frazie was cool.
âIâm not hearing an explanation.â Dion hissed. âSo Iâll ask again: What the fuck is going on here?!â he demandedâ
âI find myself wondering the exact same thing.â
Three froze. Dionâs eyes were wide as he stared at the doorway behind Three. Oh no. Oh no.
Three turned around slowly, like the air around him was suddenly full of glue. Oh no no no.
None other than Ms. Naumann stood there, her lips pressed into a thin line. All of Threeâs resolve dissolved under her gaze, like a wadded up napkin being tossed into the trash. Oh no.
âAnd who are you?â Ms. Naumann turned her attention to Dion, who looked as much like a deer in headlights as Three and Four felt.
â...very confused.â Dion admitted.
Ms. Naumann raised a hand to the bridge of her nose. âRight.â She sighed. Her hand moved to her temple, her look of resignation turning to one of concentration.
Three yelped in surprise as an arm wrapped around him, lifting into the air in a single burst of motion. Ms. Naumann shot a psi-blast, and Dion ducked under it to slide out the open door behind her, not once losing momentum even as he leapt up into a run, Three and Four tucked against his sides.
âWhich way do I go?â Dion demanded, as Ms. Naumannâs footsteps echoed behind them.
âLeft!â Four shouted, even as Threeâs head spun trying to remember the layout. Dion skidded to a near-halt at the next intersection, deftly using his shed momentum to pivot into a turn to the left. âI still want an explanation!â He nearly screeched, following Fourâs directions to duck to the right.
âLater!â Three reminded him. He squirmed in Dionâs arm until he was facing backwards, watching as Ms. Naumann came up behind them. âSheâs gaining!â He shouted, and Dion picked up the pace.
âDo something then!â Dion made another turn, his grip on Three and Four tightening to keep them from slipping free.
Right! Three concentrated, lining up his shotâ
Ms. Naumannâs eyes widened in surprise as Three fired. She ducked to the side, and the shot only grazed herâbut she ended up stopping entirely, so Three still allowed himself a moment of silent victory. He was useful! Another shot brought down a light fixture, blocking her path. Even more useful!
Dion slid to a halt, the sudden stop jarring to Three. He squirmed, trying to see what had brought them to a haltâ
âHow do I open this?â Dion demanded, and Three managed to turn around entirely. They were blocked by a doorâthe playroom door, it looked like.
âGet me to that keypad.â Four said, and Dion moved to hold him up in front of it. Four tapped in the codeâ
Four hissed and pulled back his hand. âDammit.â He muttered. âShe changed it again.â
âLanguage.â Dion snapped. Three stuck out his tongue. Who was Dion to decide if his brother could swear? âHurry up,â Dion added. âI donât like how quiet it is right now.â
âIâm trying.â Four shot back, trying another code. Another angry beep as the pad flashed red. âUgh, she changes them way too often.â He grumbled, moving to try another one.
Probably because someoneâs just a little too clever. Three suggested, trying to squirm out of Dionâs grip. Four ignored his comment in favor of focusing on the keypad.
âUh uh.â Dion adjusted his hold on Three. âYouâre not going anywhere until weâre out of this mess.â
Three crossed him arms. He really wished it was Frazie who had followed him. How did Dion even find him?
âHow did you even find me? You were out on the floor when I left.â Three poked Dionâs side.
âYouâre the one who practically showed me where you were going.â Dion muttered, like it was somehow Threeâs fault that heâd shown up to mess everything up.
Which⊠maybe it was, now that Three thought about it. He hadnât even touched Dion when heâd sent him flyingâif it was a burst of unfocused psychic power, then it probably ended up pushing Threeâs thoughts into Dionâs head. Whoops.
Four hissed at another failed attempt. Dion tapped his foot against the floor impatiently. Footsteps echoed down the hall. Three gasped. âMs. Naumann!â
âOkay, time to go!â Dion decided, pulling away from the door.
âWhâno!â Four shouted. âSix is in there!â
âWeâre not leaving him behind!â Three added, âHim or Raz!â
Dion froze. âWhatââ
The world tilted, and Three fell to the floor. He had only a moment to catch his breath before a telekinetic grasp grabbed ahold of him, too, lifting him up into the air to join a struggling Dion and Four.
âThatâs enough of that.â Ms. Naumann declared, already turning on her heel. The hands followed after her, dragging the three of them along through the air.
âWell.â Four muttered, âshit.â
+=+=+=+=+
Well, shit. Gisu scooted further into the shadows. She and Dion had only found Razâthough apparently he was going by Three?âby chance, and then Dion had fallen down into the room the moment he spotted his brother. Who was greeting a second Raz.
And now this lady had showed up, and Dion had grabbed both Razzes and ran. Gisu had no idea how far heâd get, but she didnât want to get caught, either.
Something that the Not-Razzes had mentioned caught in her mind, and she regarded the door carefully. Six and Raz? Did that mean that there were more Pooters here?
Well, it was as good a lead as any. Gisu levitated down to the floor, and poked her head out the still-open door.
The hallway was empty. Probably.
Carefully, Gisu crept out, holding her board tight against her side. If she concentrated, she could faintly feel Dionâs mind a ways away, frustration ebbing in and out of his mental signal. She wasnât good enough with telepathy to hold a full conversation with him, thoughâshe was too used to the person on the other end being psychic. Adam could probably hold a connection with seven people all on his own, and Morris was also pretty good at long-range communicationâ
But Adam and Morris werenât here. Just Gisu and Dion.
Gisu huffed, casting her mind out further. She didnât want to alert the scientist lady to her presence, but there had to be something she could useâ
Aha! Her mind caught on something. On another mindâ
âŠwhich reached back. Who are you? They demanded, their presence like waves crashing against Gisuâs mind.
Trying to help. Gisu responded, raising a hand to her temple to track down the other mind.
Like you could help me, the voice scoffed. Okay, rude. You just want Raz, anyway.
Yeah, that was what Gisu was confused about. Why are there so many of you?
The other end was quiet, for a moment, thenâthere used to be one more. But heâs gone now. A deep sense of melancholy washed over Gisu like waves washing over the sand. For a moment, she almost felt like sand, slowly being pulled into the depths of the anguish bit by bit.
Gisu shook her head to snap herself out of it. Iâm sorry. She responded, that sucks.
Tell me something I donât know. The other mind snarked. But really, why are you here?
Gisu concentrated on everything that had happened in the past several days. The birthday, the breakdown, Not-Raz running off, her and Dionâs chase to reach the mountain before him⊠as far as explanations went, it was probably really cluttered, a mix of feelings and memories and desires all packaged up into a bundle, with a lot of the needed context missing. But it was what Gisu had to work with.
⊠The other end was silent for a moment. Thenâ
A schematicâno, a layout appeared in Gisuâs mind, with a path highlighted in bright blue. Go here, it seemed to say, without saying anything at all.
Gisu followed the path, keeping an eye out for any wandering scientists. How she managed to get around without getting caught, she had no ideaâ
But she was doing it, which was good. She could worry about the potential implications of being able to seemingly run rampant later.
She came up on a metal door with a keypad to the side. It was flashing, the tiny screen above it saying something about failed attempts. But Gisu only grinned and pulled out her mini-screwdriversâtime to get to work. Pry off the cover, then the pad itself to get at the wires⊠snip those two wires and join them togetherâŠ
The door slid open a few moments later. âHa!â Gisu put away her tools, âAm I good, or am I good?â That was easy. Almost too easy, but Gisu was too busy riding the high of her success to care.
The room she stepped into was larger than the first one, with a small swingset installed at the other end. Mats covered the floor, there was a balance beamâ
And there, sitting next to a slide and curled up under the steps, were two more Razzes, regarding Gisu with mild suspicion.
âOkay, which one of you is Pooter?â Gisu twirled her board in her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
The Raz under the slide pointed at himself. âIâm the original.â He said, his voice scratchy and tired-sounding.
âSix.â The other said, leaning against the red plastic.
âRight.â Gisu nodded. She had no idea what that meantâshe could guess, thoughâbut that wasnât important. What was important was getting Dion and the other two and getting out of here. She slapped her palms together. âTime for us to blow this joint!â She declared.
âYou mean it?â Raz asked, staring at Gisu with wide eyes. âWeâre getting out of here?â
Gisu nodded. âYeah!â She frowned. âWell, not without Dion,â She amended, âOr the other two.â
Raz blinked. âDionâs here?â He stood up. âHeâs notâheâs not still mad at me for running away, right? I can kind of see what the other mes see, butâŠâ He trailed off, staring at the floor.
âHe asked me to help troubleshoot his apology.â Gisu said flatly. âAnd Iâm still missing a lot of the context here, by the way.â
âOh.â Razâ mouth worked, for a moment, as he looked for the words. âI ran away,â he started, âAnd I made it to Whispering RockâŠâ He contemplated, for a moment, before skipping ahead, âThe other me and me swapped places at the Rhombus of Ruin.â He said.
âOh.â Gisu clutched her board a little tighter. That wasâoh. Suddenly, the exhaustion smeared under his eyes looked even more sad and pathetic, like a wet kitten alone in a box after all of the other kittens had been taken. Oh, this poor kid.
These poor kids, Gisu realized, looking at Six. She had heard Not-Raz respond to Three, and heâd called the other FourâŠ
She had never heard anything about a One, Two, or Five.
âWell, this is your lucky day,â she decided, âBecause youâre getting out of here. All of you.â Raz perked up at her statement. Good.
âItâs too late.â Six stated. âThree and Four got caught. Theyâre probably already on their way to being terminated.â He scoffed. âIâll probably be next.â
Gisu swallowed. That⊠didnât sound good. âWeâve still got to do something,â She urged.
Raz nodded, turning to Six. âDonât you want to see the ocean?â He asked, âBecause this might be your one chance.â
Six stared at Raz for a long moment. He scowled. âThatâs not fair.â He muttered, standing up to join Gisu and Raz. âYou canât just use my weakness against me.â Still, he was no longer sitting next to the slide, so Gisu counted that as a win.
âCâmon,â She urged. âLetâs go kick that ladyâsââ
âMs. Naumann.â Six interjected.
âOkay.â Gisu started again. âLetâs go kick Ms. Naumannâs butt!â
+=+=+=+=+
Three had never been in this room before. There was a large glass tubeâthat Three and Four were immediately dumped intoâand a control panel that took up most of the space, making the whole place feel cramped. Dion was set down in the only open space on the floor, hands cuffed behind him, and the door wasnât able to slide shut with him sitting so close to it. He wasnât consciousâMs. Naumann had used a burst of mental pressure to knock him out when she drew blood. Three looked away from the bandage in the crook of his arm.
Three had never been in this room before. He could guess at what it was, though. His hands pressed against the glass while his heart threatened to pound right out of his chestâ
Twin screams lighting up the shared headspace, hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt HURTâ
âPlease.â Three tried. Four leaned against him, his weight and his mind a steadying presence, but he may as well have been trying to steady a wobbling tower of cards on a rocking boat in the middle of a storm.
Okay, so that metaphor was wordy. Three was allowed to be wordy, he felt, when there was death looming over him.
âI can see this project isnât working out.â Ms. Naumann muttered. âPerhaps Iâll have to put it on pause⊠or maybe taking up a second project will give me some much-needed variety.â She regarded Three and Four for a long moment, her cool gaze betraying not even a hint of the anger that Three could feel leaching off of her.
âYou did well.â She said, reaching for the panel. âBut I see youâve been let loose for too long.â Her words sounded too practiced to be sincere, even though she would have only had to say anything. âI will make this as painless as possiââ
âHey.â
As one, Three, Four, and Ms. Naumann turned their attention to the open doorway, where Dion was still unconscious to the side. Standing next to him was none other than Six, regarding Ms. Naumann with a blank expression.
Ms. Naumann returned to the control panel. âReturn to the playroom, Subject Six.â She ordered. âThis isnât a place for clones.â
âNo.â Six said, staring her down.
Ms. Naumann paused, turning to look at Six directly. âNo?â
âNo.â Six repeated, raising his hands.
Ms. Naumannâs voice cut off with a gasp as she fell to the floor, her whole body trembling. Sixâ brow furrowed as he stepped forwards, his hands outstretched. âYouâre an awful mother.â He declared. âAnd we donât like you!â He swept his arms to the side, and Ms. Naumann slammed against the wall with a wheeze. Sixâ arms dropped. Ms. Naumann fell to the floor.
âDion!â And then Raz was in the room, standing next to Dion and fussingâ
âLetâs get you out of there.â And there was Gisu, since when was Gisu here, staring at the control panel for a moment before slamming her fist down on one of the buttons.
Three flinchedâ
The tube opened up. Oh. Oh, thank god.
Three and Four wasted no time in making their way out of there, standing next to Gisu. The room was getting really crowded, now, there was barely any room for anyone to move aroundâ
âYou.â Ms. Naumann was already pushing herself up. âYou insolenââ
A pair of shiny metal handcuffs thwacked off of her head, clattering to the floor. Three turned back to see Dion standing, muttering curses under his breath as he rubbed at the base of his thumb. âAnd stay down.â He added.
Ms. Naumann did not stay down. She hissed, and before Gisu or Six could do anything to stop her, she spoke. âInitiate System Shutdown, voice code 4-18-4-25-4.â
Alarms started blaring. Ms. Naumann disappeared with a pop, leaving them all crowded in that tiny room.
âTime to get out of here!â Gisu declared. Raz launched himself at Dion, who scooped up Four and Three in his arms once again. Gisu threw down her board, grabbed Six, and hopped onâDion hopped on next. âWhich way?â
âDown that hall, then take a right!â Four instructed, as Gisuâs levboard rocketed off down the halls. âNow left!â Three had to grab Dionâs vest to avoid falling off as Gisu turnedâthis was so much worse than when Dion had been running. But with the countdown blaring over their heads, Three didnât have it in himself to say anything.
âAnd out that door!â Four pointed. But the door was closed!
Gisu raised her hand and pointed with two fingers. Lightning blasted out down the hall, hitting the door just moments before her levboard got thereâ
Her board flew out into open air, leaving the smoke from the blasted door behind them. The hidden lab rumbled, the whole mountain seeming to shakeâ
The whole world spun, Three tumbling right out of Dionâs grip as the board was flung forwards. He tumbled through the air and into the undergrowth, rolling across the ground before coming to a stop.
The sky was a brilliant shade of orange above him. Morning already?
Fuck, he was exhausted. The world was still spinning, a bit, and he could hear everyone shouting or groaning as they picked themselves up. Four was okay, though, and Raz was outâthat was all that mattered.
With a tired groan, Three let his eyes slip closed.
#whumptober2023#no.20#found family#psychonauts#zaz writes#child abuse tw#experimentation tw#attempted murder tw#blood tw#it's only a small mention but it's there#pooter pile au#RA3#RA4#dion aquato#razputin aquato#RA6#aranka naumann#WHOOOOOO PLOT ADVANCEMENT WHOOOOO#RAZ IS OUT OF THE LAB WHOOOOOOOOOOOO#surely nothing will go wrong from here on out!!!#also yes dion is doing the candace ''MOM HOLY FUCK'' meme in the opening scene#turns out there are benefits to getting flipped like a pancake#gisu does like. all of the heavy lifting here honestly. dion's just here to look pretty#gisu nariman
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Whumptober Day 18: Revenge
Unreliable Narrator + "I see what's mine and take it" -Panic at the Disco, "Emperor's New Clothes"
3232 Words; Rewired AU
TW for mind control/hypnosis, violence, blood, death, injury
AO3 ver
ââSubject Î, wake up.â
[Booting upâŠ]
[Checking systems.]
[âŠ]
[Systems check complete. Activating systems.]
[âŠ]
[Boot up complete.]
Unit A-XÎ came back into awareness slowly, like waking from a dream. There was a moment where everything seemed to melt together, not quite realâand then reality snapped into place.
Dr. Naumann pushed A-XÎâs prosthetic arm back into place with a click, inner mechanisms working to firmly reattach the shoulder. She stepped away, fiddling with a tablet, then disconnected the wire between the tablet and the arm.
âYouâre dismissed.â She said, reaching back to disconnect the wires from the port in the back of A-XÎâs neck.
A-XÎ nodded, exiting the lab. It knew these halls well, and made its way down to the barracks. It passed a cantina on the way, and ignored itâweapons did not need to eat.
The events of the gala replayed in its head. A-XÎ stopped just before the turn-off for the barracks and doubled back. A deviation from its schedule, but nothing that was not technically allowed. Just down the hall were a few training rooms; it looked like the shooting ranges were occupied. Which did not matter to A-XÎ, as it focused on melee. It pressed the palm of its prosthetic against the doorlock, and after a moment, the door slid open. It was one of the larger training rooms, with dummies and various obstacles strewn about. A-XÎ needed to polish its techniqueâespecially after that failure.
Units were required to keep their masks on them at all times; they were useful for identifying targets, combatants, and bystanders. A-XÎ was well used to the HUD its mask provided, and it scanned the room, examining the dummies.
Thereâthat one would be the target. A-XÎ slapped its prosthetic palm against the touchpad for the roomâs settings, and the dummies that could move started to do so, moving back and forth on their paths. A-XÎ then whipped its arm up towards the ceiling, grappling hook catching on one of the bars up there and launching it up into the eaves.
[Standby. Setup.] The HUD flashed, picking through the dummies until it found the target.
[Target Acquired.]
A-XÎ burst into motion with a leap, falling down as close to the target as it could, blade flashing from its palm. The dummy doubled back on its path in responseâA-XÎ lunged forwards, sword stabbing through the hole in the dummyâs chest.
[Target destroyed.]
A-XÎ pulled away just as quickly. A hole opened up in the floor and a dummy popped up out of it, flamethrower aimed right for A-XÎâit flipped back away from the flames. [Shutdown.] The flames sputtered, and A-XÎ lunged forwards to slam the hilt of its sword against the dummyâs âwristââdirect hit, the flamethrower lowered in a simulation of disarmament. Another dummy popping up behind A-XÎ pinged on its sensorsâ
[Disengage.] A-XÎ flipped up onto a hanging platform, grappling hook whipping up to the ceiling as it swung away. It kicked off of a wall as it passedâ
[New Target.] A-XÎ grabbed a pole sticking out from the wall and disengaged its grappling hook in a single motion, head whipping around to scan the roomâ
[Target Acquired.] Five different potential paths to the new target lit up on its HUD; A-XÎ considered them each at a rapid pace before ducking down, rolling as it hit the ground. A dummy crossed its pathâbystander. A-XÎ ducked to the side. Another dummy cropped up, equipped with âarmsâ holding a pair of knives. A-XÎ scored a hit with the flat of its sword on the dummyâs âwristsâ and twisted around past the dummy, hopping up over a low wall to reach its target.
A-XÎâs sword struck true. [Target Destroyed.] It darted back, using the low wall as a springboard to flip backwards into the air away from the dummies. [Disengage.]
[SearchingâŠ] It whipped its head around, scanning the room while its HUD searched for a new target. [New Target.] A-XÎ scanned the room, flipping up to a higher vantage pointâ
The subtle groan of the roomâs machinery came to a slow halt as everything shut down.
âSubject Î.â Dr. Naumannâs voice cut through the room. A-XÎ slid to a stop mid-charge, turning to face her. [Disengage.] Its sword returned to its sheath as A-XÎ stood at attention.
âThatâs enough for today.â Dr. Naumann chided. âYou are exceeding parameters.â
A-XÎ disengaged from the training fully, HUD exiting Combat Mode. A slight shock stung at its spine, a sharp reminder not to exceed parameters again. Completely docile, A-XÎ walked over to stand at attention before Dr. Naumann, ready for further orders.
âSubject Î, standby.â Awareness melted away, the world shifting into something unrealâ
+=+=+=+=+
The routine on base was familiar, so entrenched into A-XÎâs processors that it could not forget it if it tried. Train. Come to the lab on scheduleâor when explicitly summonedâfor systems diagnostics. Rest in the barracks. Train again, this time with supervision.
[Target Acquired.] A-XÎ ran through the exercise again. Its sword hit the dummy with deadly accuracy, and it pulled back immediately to disengage and retreatâ
âSubject Î, pause.â Sounded over the roomâs speakers, and A-XÎ shifted out of Combat Mode immediately, stepping away from a dummy before its spinning staff could hit it. [Disengage.] âReaction times have improved by zero-point-zero-two percent.â Dr. Naumann continued over the speakers. âAccuracy remains acceptableâthough the unit could stand to be more aggressive with combatants.â The assessment lodged itself into A-XÎâs memory.
âSubject Î, resume.â Movement returned to A-XÎâs limbs, their HUD switching back into Combat Mode. [SearchingâŠ] It kicked the staff away from the dummy entirely, then cartwheeled to the side as another dummy equipped with a gun opened fire, rubber bullets bouncing off the floor where A-XÎ had been.
[Target Acquired.] A-XÎ continued its constant motion, ducking and darting and charging around the room to reach the new target. It did not stick to the ground, instead leveraging all three dimensions of direction to maneuver around the room. Another dummy slid in front of the target, a living shield as A-XÎ swung down sword firstâ
A-XÎ lowered its sword and swung its leg in a sweeping kick in one fluid motion, knocking the dummy aside before lunging forwards to slot its sword into the hole in its targetâs chest, like it should have done that night at the galaâ
[Target Destroyed.]
A-XÎ felt a dulled sense of pride run through it at that.
But it wasnât enough. It wouldnât make up for the unitâs failure.
So it would simply have to keep going, until it had made up for its mistakes.
+=+=+=+=+
A-XÎ was used to being sent on missions at a regular pace.
But it had been longer since the last missionâsince the last failure. So A-XÎ trained, and followed orders, and waited.
It was walking through the halls with Dr. Naumann when another unit it vaguely recognizedâUnit M-SÎâpassed by with its handler, a faint haze leaching out into the air around it.
âDr. Naumann.â M-SÎâs handler greeted. âI was hoping you might be able toââ their words fuzzed out, filtered by A-XÎâs processors.
A-XÎ and M-SÎ stared at each other. A-XÎ did not interact with the other units, though it knew that the other units often worked in teams. A-XÎâs signature ability simply did not mesh well with others. M-SÎâs mask hid its expressions, but A-XÎ felt a distant sense of amusement as M-SÎâs mind reached out to A-XÎâs.
Ah. M-SÎ had just completed a mission. The connection fuzzed out and A-XÎ turned its attention back to Dr. Naumannâweapons did not need to know about the missions other weapons went on. Though A-XÎ was barred from obtaining any details, it was clearâM-SÎ had been successful on its last mission.
A-XÎ ignored M-SÎ harder. Shutdown was more useful than typhokinesis; A-XÎ would not fail on its next mission.
Dr. Naumann was wrapping up the conversation. She and the other handler bid each other farewell, and then both pairs went their separate ways. A-XÎ felt its resolve strengthened by the chance encounterâit would do better at its next mission. It would not fail again.
Except⊠it had been a longer wait between missions than A-XÎ was used to. And A-XÎ had not been sent out after Miss Belladam againâhad that task been passed onto another unit? A better unit?
No. A-XÎ was the best of the best. And it would only continue to get better. It would not fail again.
It just had to do better.
+=+=+=+=+
The mission was thus: get in, take out the target, get out. No different from other missions A-XÎ had been sent on.
The target was a psychic activistânot Carolynda Belladam, from the gala, a fact which inspired dull shameâRichard Brunschwyler, 6â7â, 186 lbs, 47 years old. Known specialties: telepathy, telekinesis. The target was set to make an appearance at the student center at Charledon College for a lecture addressing recent on-campus incidents. The chances of a Psychonaut agent being in attendance were unconfirmed, but high.
A-XÎ was to infiltrate the student center and take out the target, preferably as out of sight as possible. But taking the target down at the podium was not out of the question, either. The back of the ban opened up, and A-XÎ stood. [Checking systemsâŠ]
[âŠ]
[Systems check complete. Status: 100%]
A-XÎ exited the van, walking at a quick pace towards a nearby building. No witnesses pinged on its sensors or senses. It grabbed at the brick of the building, hopping up and reaching for the metal of the fire escape before scrambling up to the roof. Still nobody in range; good.
[Standby. Setup.]
The college campus was just across the street, student center less than five minutes away. A-XÎ scanned the busy street below, then activated invisibility. A quick shot with its grappling hook, and it was smacking boots-first against the student center wall between the windows. There were ten seconds left before its invisibility failed, so it rappelled down to ground level quickly, darting into the doorway behind a group of students. Three seconds. A-XÎ darted to the side, steps perfectly quiet as it ducked into a side room that was thankfully empty. A corner where it couldnât be seen through the windows or the doorwayâA-XÎâs invisibility ended, and it considered its options.
The layout of the student center had been provided to it; the lecture would be happening up in the second floor ballroom, right by the cafeteria. A-XÎ was currently on the first floor, in full gear, with invisibility on cooldown for ten minutes. The lecture was due to start in twenty-two minutes.
Footsteps approaching the door. A-XÎ leapt into the air, grabbing onto the ceiling to be as out of view as possibleâthe footsteps passed by.
Right. A-XÎ had a mission to complete. There had been no good access points on the roof, so A-XÎ unslung the bag it had been provided with from its shoulders, moving to place its weapons in there. It let its hood fall, and activated a hologram on its prosthetic to hide the gleaming metal beneath a simulated sleeve. With some begrudgery, A-XÎ reached up and removed its mask.
The loss of its HUD was not completely new thanks to the incident at the gala. Normally, units were required to keep their masks on at all timesâbut this was a special circumstance.
A-XÎ grabbed the now-closed bag and slung it over its shoulders. Thanks to the bag being designed specifically to carry its weapons, A-XÎ was able to walk out towards the atrium without the clinking of metal on metal. Good.
Being without its mask was⊠A-XÎ did not like it. A watered-down version of its HUD floated in front of it, visible only to A-XÎ thanks to the circuitry behind its eyesâbut it just was not the same. But there were no good access points on the roof, and A-XÎ could not maintain invisibility long enough to get into positionânot without waiting out the ten minute cooldown at multiple points, putting it at risk of being found in a compromising position. So blending in it was, leaving A-XÎ maskless and disarmed as it made for the stairs.
Students and faculty passed by, pinging on A-XÎâs facial recognition as bystanders. Nothing too bad so far. A-XÎ made it to the hall outside the ballroom, darting through the crowd as it searched for a way to the backstage. The cafeteria was its best bet.
A-XÎ stalked down the length of the outer edge of the cafeteria, head down to avoid being seen too clearly on cameras. There were bathrooms down at the end, in a hall that connected to the ballroom from behindâ
An alarmed presence brushed against the edges of A-XÎâs mind, trying to probe deeperâ
A-XÎâs head snapped to the source of the presence. Facial recognition pinged on the man sitting in one of the boothsâ[Abort.]
A-XÎ would have sworn if it was allowed. Agent Gette was standing, what could only be Agent Boole leaning around him to look at A-XÎ, who ducked into the side hall and darted for the first bathroom, slipping into a stall and setting down its bag.
Had it been compromised? Did the agents know that it would be here? A-XÎ did not know, and it reapplied its mask as quickly as it could, lifting its hood and disabling the hologram on its arm. It made quick work of reequipping its weapons, running through the objective of the mission. The intel didnât mentionâ
No! A-XÎ would not let itself be tripped up by this! It would not fail again. It could not fail again.
Prioritize. Two known agents, new enough that A-XÎ only had limited intel. Both of them would likely become combatants, but neither of them were the target. [Disengage. Standby. Setup.]
The bathroom door opened. A-XÎ gripped the hilt of its sword, hopping up onto the toilet to stay out of view.
âCould have sworn I sawâŠâ A-XÎ could not see through the stall door; it switched its mask to infrared. The body type on the other side was a match for Agent Gette. âDion?â He called out, the name unfamiliar.
This was suboptimal. A-XÎ needed the agent to leave, now. Twelve minutes until the lecture, six seconds until invisibility came back. A-XÎ tried to look beyond the bathroom walls with the infrared vision still activeâno use, too many warm bodies for it to pick out the target.
Five seconds. A-XÎ crouched a bit, putting its hand on the stall lock. Four seconds.
Agent Gette shifted. Three seconds. A-XÎ switched out of infrared vision.
Two seconds.
Agent Getteâs mental presence reached out againâ[Shutdown.] A-XÎ unlocked the door and lunged forwards, slamming the hilt of its sword into Agent Getteâs gut. The agent doubled over and A-XÎ slammed him back against the sinks for good measure. Activating invisibility, A-XÎ wasted no time exiting the bathroom and darting down the hall, searching for its target. Ten seconds of invisibility left. The voices of the students gathered in the ballroom filtered through the wallâinfrared would be useless if A-XÎâs target was out there, and invisibility would not last long enough. Unlessâ
Six seconds left. A-XÎ searched for an open door, darting into the ballroom the moment it spotted one. The ceiling was high above, with plenty of space above the lightsâperfect. Four seconds left.
A-XÎ fired its grappling hook, yanking itself up to the ceiling. Two seconds left. It settled onto a beam strong enough to support it, crouching down into the shadows. One second left.
A-XÎâs invisibility dropped. Ten and a half minutes until the lecture was due to start. It dropped Shutdown, as wellâattempting to give Agent Gette the impression that it had fled the scene.
A-XÎ watched the crowd below as it waited, scanning for its target. Agent Boole entered the ballroom, milling around for a bit as A-XÎ watched. A few minutes later, Brunschwyler entered, sorting through notecards at the edge of the stage.
[Target Acquired.] A-XÎ moved to dart over and drop down. It would not have invisibility availableânot that it would need it to take out the target and escape. Paths lit up on its HUDâ
Agent Gette entered the room, walking at a quick enough pace to give A-XÎ pause. Agent Gette reached Brunschwyler, talking to the target too softly for A-XÎ to make out. Brunschwyler paled, then moved as though he might leave before turning back to Agent Gette.
A loud presence brushed against A-XÎâs mindâ[Shutdown.] The target, most of the crowd, and Agent Gette flinched as they were caught in the effect as well, affording A-XÎ ample time to launch forwards and drop down, rolling as it hit the stage in order to shed momentum.
âRichard Brunschwyler.â [Target Acquired.] A-XÎ announced, in imitation of the gala, âYour life is forfeit.â A-XÎ lunged forwards, sword at the readyâ
A small body bowled it over, hands grasping at its arm and the hand as though trying to tear its sword from its grasp. A-XÎ kicked, shoving Agent Boole off of itself, only for Agent Gette to tackle it to the floorâA-XÎ rolled slightly to immediately throw Agent Gette out into the crowd with no loss of momentum. Agent Boole was standing, yelling somethingâ
But she and Agent Gette were not the target, who was fleeing to the back of the stage. A-XÎ moved to followâ
Something hard hit the back of A-XÎâs hood, knocking it forwards slightly. Its vision fuzzed, Shutdown deactivating for a single momentâ
A small explosion in the air beside it sent A-XÎ tumbling to the ground. It rolled with the impact as its sensors flared, and that yo-yo swung around in front of itâ
A-XÎ caught the yo-yo in its prosthetic hand, whirling to face the agents in the same motion. [Shutdown.] The psychic string disappeared and it squeezed, grip tightening untilâcrack. A-XÎ dropped the now-broken yo-yo to the floor, and stomped on it for good measure.
[SearchingâŠ] A-XÎ ducked down and grabbed its sword, scanning the room for its target. Most of the students had fled already, thinning out the crowdâand there was Brunschwyler, ducking out one of the side doors.
[Target Acquired.] A-XÎ lunged forwards, using its grappling hook to launch itself forwards. It burst through the door, head snapping to the side as it locked in on its target. It sheathed its sword and flipped forwards, once, twice, thriceâ
A-XÎâs flesh hand grabbed the target while its metal hand grabbed its sword. It struck with deadly accuracy twice in successionâ
[Target Destroyed.]
Success. Not enough to make up for its failure, but a start.
âHey!â And there was Agent Boole at the other end of the hall, glaring A-XÎ down. [Disengage.] A-XÎ lunged towards her, boots thudding against the carpet as it flicked blood off its sword. With Shutdown active, the agent couldnât use her powers; it did not look like this was going to stop her. But A-XÎ did not have time to stick aroundâit kicked out the moment it was in range, punting Agent Boole out of the way. Agent Gette was standing, moving as though he might be able to do somethingâ
A-XÎ simply shoved him aside and made tracks towards the exit. The mission was over, and it was successful. It was not quite enough to make up for its previous failureâ
But it was certainly a start.
#whumptober2024#no.18#unreliable narrator#''i see what's mine and take it''#psychonauts#zaz writes#mind control#memory manipulation#violence#blood#injury#death#rewired au#Unit A-XÎ#aranka naumann#adam joseph gette#sam boole#YEAHHHH REWIRED TIME!!!#can't say a whole lot rn bc i'm speedrunning posting this before i gotta catch a bus
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How did Dion end up a cyborg in your Rewired au
451 Words
"'The Humanity Project'?" Aranka tapped her nails against the file in front of her, looking at the person across the table.
They chuckled. "What, you don't like it?" They moved to adjust their tie.
Aranka's lips pursed. "Surely you couldn't have chosen something more... fitting?"
"Yeah right." They scoffed. "I might not work directly with the PR team, but even I can tell you how stupid that'd be." They shrugged. "And it's not like I can ask marketing for help on this one, givenâwell." They nodded their head towards the file.
Aranka considered the reasoning. It did make sense...
"Why 'The Humanity Project' in particular? If you don't mind my curiosity." She'd worked with multiple people like them in the past; more than one had held the opinion that Aranka should do the job they paid her for instead of asking questions. More than one of her former employers had been fools.
The person before her inclined their head. "The simplicity, mostly." They responded. "Generic enough to be looked over, innocent enough to avoid investigation. So even if some newshound sniffs it out, it won't look like anything worth reporting on."
"I see." Aranka flipped through the file again, skimming the project details. "And you'll provide the subjects?"
"And any other resources or funding you'll need." They assured. "You're not the only one invested in this project, Ms. Naumann."
Aranka hummed to herself. This was definitely one of her less... ethical projects. But if her theories were correctâand even if they weren'tâthen she could open up entirely new frontiers in the study of the human mind. She could potentially even craft a paper on free will and individuality from this project, were it ethical enough to source.
And that was the issue. Ethics. Oh, Aranka understood why the simpering masses of the world valued themâbut one did not make an omelette without cracking eggs, and Aranka considered herself a far more practical woman. Really, the only thing stopping her before was the sheer upkeep involved in using live subjects, let alone human ones.
But with this funding, with these resources being offered to her...
One could not make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. And if the omelette Aranka was aiming for turned out anything near what she hoped, then all the more reason to start.
"I'll need fifteen subjects." She started. "Healthy, in the same age rangeâyoung adults if you can help itâand ten of them psychic." She looked up at the person across from her, meeting their gray eyes with her own. "Can you manage that?"
They grinned, extending a hand across the table for Aranka to shake. "Why, Ms. Naumann, I think you've got yourself a deal."
#ask zaz#seriousblond#rewired au#aranka naumann#yes i know she already has a role in pooter pile#but she's my oc and if i wanna reuse her in a different au then i will#anyway đ
#to answer your question directly: the mechanical stuff comes later actually!!#the whole process takes almost two years in the little timeline i've got#and dion's not the only one :)
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Any Psychonauts OC's you have?
Sort of? I've certainly made up a few characters to use in my AUs, but I'm not sure I could call them Psychonauts OCs specifically, since chances are I'll use them again in other continuities as it suits me.
But of that number, we've got Archelaos from Buried Beneath, ancient bodystealer looking to have a good time, Denver, his on-and-off lover who he taught the bodyhopping trick to. And some other psychics who have figured out the bodyhopping trick throughout history but they don't have names yet.
There's the Entity in Symbiosis; Aranka Naumann and the clones in Pooter Pile; there's Creed and Tammy and the Owl from The Lion, along with all the other denizens of Ouroboros; and Carrie in Sit Still, Look Pretty. And that's about it for AU OCs actually.
#ask zaz#i might also have other ocs of mine cameo here and there#enza cameos in the lion and sslp actually :]]#she used to have a role in the ghosts au (where she originated actually) but then i scrapped that because she was too much like frazie to m#creed of ouroboros#lady tamira#archelaos#carrie callaghan#aranka naumann#RA1#RA2#RA3#RA4#RA5#RA6#the pooter pile#also i've kind of given thought to how some of my other ocs would fit into the psychonauts world#veronica would be pyrokinetic :[. cheryl would probably work with the psychonauts. oliva would probably just be normal#well. as normal as you can get when you're oliva. and in psychonauts
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Whumptober Day 01: A little out of the ordinary
Adverse effects + a little bit of "this wasn't supposed to happen"
2638 Words; Pooter Pile AU
TW for death, unethical experimentation, child abuse
AO3 ver
Aranka considered her latest test results with a scowl.
RA2 shifted guiltily, wringing its hands and hunching its shoulders under her scrutiny. It didnât let up its telekinetic hold on RA1âs hand, nor did it seem particularly willing to start up the amplifier again.
RA1 stood dripping in a small puddle in the center of the testing range, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. The trough it had been drawing water from was overturned, the puddle around it still trickling down the drains at the low points of the floor. Water droplets flowed languidly down the glass separating Aranka and RA2 from the testing range.
This test had been going so well, too.
But, as was starting to prove the norm, the readouts were rendered completely useless because something simply refused to function within the parameters.
That something being the hydrokinetic clone standing in the testing range, shoulders hunched and hands shaking.
With a sigh, Aranka set the readouts down, flicking the switch for the microphone.
RA1 flinched at the speakers turning on, turning wide eyes towards the window.
âClean up the testing range.â Aranka ordered, just barely keeping the exasperation from her voice. âCome join me and Subject 2 in my office when youâre done.â She glanced at RA2, then back through the glass. âDonât dawdle.â
With that, she flicked off the microphone and left, not looking to see whether RA1 was using telekinesis or hydrokinesis to replace the knocked over water trough.
She didnât need to look to know that it wouldnât be the latter.
+=+=+=+=+
Sometimes, Aranka wondered if she made the right choices with her projects.
She had her own funding from past projects, so she wasnât bothered by constraints set by pushy supporters or cowardly investors. The freedom was refreshing; she could truly push the boundaries of psychic ability with her methods this way, with nobody to slow her down with their objections or âconcerns.â
But as Aranka looked over her two subjects, standing shoulder-to-shoulder before her, she couldnât help the disappointment pursing her lips and furrowing her brow.
This whole project had seemed so promising. Hydrokinetics werenât all that special, everything consideredâbut less-than-recent historical events had certainly made them⊠rarer, for lack of a better term. Even though a shared power was hardly a connection, Maligula had forever altered the public perception of hydrokinesis. A shame, really, given just how powerful water could be in the right hands.
So for her little detector to identify a hydrokinetic in the crowd at a circusâwell, who was Aranka to pass up an opportunity?
That it was a child gave her pause.
But only pause. It wasnât as though Aranka would actually be hurting the boyâgetting the sample would hurt, yes, but the wonderful thing about working with clones was that it meant the original would be left alone entirely. So really, taking a blood sample from a child was hardly unethical. And with hydrokinesis as a skill becoming less and less explored, could you really blame Aranka for her choices?
The unfortunate thing about working with clones, howeverâassuming the clones were psychicâwas that they shared a headspace with each other and the original. This was occasionally a boon; it was why she created clones in pairs.
Now, though?
How was RA1 supposed to test the limits of its ability if it was constantly bogged down by the originalâs aquaphobia?
Every test. Every single test ended up unusable because the psychic energy went haywire and RA1 nearly drowned itself, or it simply froze up and refused to work with the water entirely.
RA2 was supposed to exist to prevent thisâwas supposed to act as a tether for RA1 to ground itself. But the fear bleeding in from the original was simply too strong, infecting every clone Aranka could make.
RA1âs shoulders were hunched, its hands clasped together nervously. Hm. Aranka would have to make a note to include proper posture in future lessons. RA2 was staring at her blankly, nails digging into its palms.
Aranka reached out a hand, a pulse of telekinesis drawing pen and clipboard to her. âThat performance was abysmal.â She commented, tapping the cap of her pen against the clipboard. âCan you tell me why that is?â
RA1 shifted nervously. âI, uh, I lost control?â
Aranka raised an eyebrow.
RA1 stood straighter. âI lost control during a simple exercise.â After a momentâs thought it added, âMaâam.â
RA2 frowned, glancing at RA1.
âI see.â Aranka said, voice not quite as even as she wanted it. âAnd why did you lose control again?â She tapped her pen a little faster.
RA2 was watching the steady tap-tap-tap of her pen with narrowed eyes. Aranka ignored the silent challengeâher subjects knew better than to mess with her things.
RA1 winced. âI got scared, maâam.â
Aranka resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. The same answers as always, because it was the same problem every time.
She wasnât making any progress like this. Patience wasnât going to get her anywhere.
It was time to take some action.
âRight.â Aranka stood up from her chair, letting go of her pen and clipboard so they could float beside her. She stalked over to the shelf and pulled out a puzzle book.
âGo occupy yourselves with this for the next hour.â She handed the book in the clonesâ general direction, letting go once they had it with telekinesis. âI have some business to attend to.â She turned back towards her desk, booting up her computer.
The door clicked open, then shut as RA1 and RA2 left the lab.
Aranka didnât watch them leave.
+=+=+=+=+
One couldnât focus on the puzzle book. He could feel his brotherâs mental nudges, tugging him back towards the word searches like the moon tugging at the waves, but One kept drifting off anyway.
(Anxiety rolled through him, pounding at his chest like waves against the shore. Heâd never seen Ms. Naumann so disappointed before.
Heâd never felt so unsteady before.)
The effects of the amplifier had yet to wear off, expanding Oneâs abilities beyond his normal level. Ms. Naumann felt that such enhancement was vital to determining the limits of hydrokinesis; she always mentioned how his base level had yet to reach its peak due to his age.
One hated it. It made him hyper aware of all the water in the room, of the water running through the pipes in the walls. Made him hyper aware of the water in his and Twoâs bodies, flowing through their bloodstream and flesh. Made him hyper aware of their heartbeats; his pounding away like crashing waves while Twoâs was a steady rush of tides.
There was so much water here in this room. Just one little tug, and One couldâ
Donât think about that. Donât.
Twoâs mental nudges had slowed; he was now doing the puzzles pretty much on his own.
One pushed himself up off his stomach, sitting upright with his knees pulled against his chest.
There was so much water. Too much. It was so loud in his psychic senses, rushing and flowing and roaring in his ears. It was there and it was all calling to him, pushing and pulling against his mind.
(Memories of cold hands grasping tightly. Memories of being yanked under, water muffling his screams as he fought and struggled for air.
Memories that werenât Oneâs, and never would be, but were etched into his mind all the same.)
One couldnâtâhe couldnât trust the water. He knew that if he gave in, if he reached out and matched the push and pull, control would slip from his fingers too fast to stop.
(Memories of knocking over countless water troughs. Memories of too much water pushing and pulling him too fast too hard for him to stop, his reach extending too far too far until it hit at the water-filled bodies outside the testing rangeâ
Those memories were Oneâs, at least. Not that that made them any less unpleasant.)
Ms. Naumann said that Oneâs base level hydrokinesis was already above the originalâs.
(So many hands rising from the trough, coalescing together into one giant hand that One needed to burst before it could hurt him.)
Ms. Naumann said that, due to his age, One wasnât even at his peak yet.
(The original didnât even know he was hydrokinetic, his mind closed to the constant presence of water around him.)
Ms. Naumann said that One would only get more powerful from here.
(The constant push and pull and push and pull and push and pull and push and pull and push and pull and push and pull and pushâ)
Ms. Naumann said it was imperative that One maintain control.
(He couldnât control it. Not when fear was always trickling in the back of his mind, weakening his grip like water eroding the shore.)
Ms. Naumann said a lot of things, really.
(Water flowing through his own body, water that he could force to the surface, ripping and shredding bones and flesh to bring it out.
Water flowing through every body.)
None of them were helpful.
(She kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing, and not once did she give. Not once did she pull One backâshe just kept pushing pushing pushing him further forwards.
Two pulled. Two always pulled, guiding One back from the precipice where his fears threatened to drown him.
But Two never pushed.)
Two pressed himself against One, startling One out of his thoughts.
âHey,â Two cautioned, his hand finding Oneâs and grasping it, âDonât think like that.â
One pushed his own weight against his brotherâs. âIt hurts.â He whispered. His anxiety crashed against Twoâs mind like waves against a cliffside, pounding relentlessly.
Two kept rubbing his thumb over Oneâs knuckles. The puzzle book sat abandoned to his side. âI know.â He replied.
âI know.â
+=+=+=+=+
Exposure therapy had been going well.
RA1 could stand in waist-deep water with little issue, and RA2 could venture a few inches deeper, but attempts to induce playâto give the clones a positive association with water, so as to outweigh the negative association permeating into the shared headspace from the originalâhad been for naught.
Exposure therapy had been going well.
Had been.
RA1 froze up the moment the water got deeper than his knees. RA2 refused to go where RA1 wouldnât follow.
At this rate, theyâd be outstripped by the new set, who had been out of the vials barely two months at this point.
RA3 had been designed with the aquaphobia in mind; its mental shielding was the best of the clones. RA4 was ever the helpful assistant. Together, the two of them were starting to outstrip RA1 and RA2âs usefulnessâthough they could not go further into water than waist-deep.
Which brought to mind a new fear: RA3âs shielding might not be enough. It couldnât block out the shared headspace entirely, and was thus plagued by the same aquaphobia all the clones shared with the original.
This wasnât a problem that could really be solved by mental shielding, Aranka hated to admit. This was a problem that needed to be addressed at the sourceâa problem that required her to get her hands on the original.
Which wasâŠ
Aranka frowned. The original was a child.
(The clones were also, technically, children, but Aranka only considered that so far as it would affect her expectations of them. She couldnât demand more of them than they could give; as children, they could not give quite as much as an adult.
But that was as far as Aranka was willing to acknowledge that. Age was a murky subject matter when it came to clones, after all.)
It wouldnât be hard, exactly, to subdue and capture a child. But other people tended to frown upon the forceful recruitment of minors, and Aranka didnât exactly fancy becoming the quarry of a manhunt.
Sheâd have to shelve that idea for now, then. Tracking down the original could come later.
RA1 was becoming unusable. RA2 might still have some use as a tether, but it had become less and less obedient as of late; its loyalty to RA1 had both uses and drawbacks.
With a sigh, Aranka flipped the switch for the dorm intercoms.
It was time to end this.
âSubjects 1 and 2, please report to Lab 2B. I repeat, Subjects 1 and 2, please report to Lab 2B.â
+=+=+=+=+
Lab 2B was the smallest lab in Arankaâs private facility. Most of the space in the room was taken up by a large glass cylinder, and what little space remained was half occupied by a simple control panel, a cabinet, and the empty space needed for the door to work.
It was not a space the clones had been allowed into, before. It was not a space that RA3 and RA4 were allowed into, still.
Aranka had never really explained the roomâs purpose to any of the subjects before. She didnât need to; it wasnât a room that clones were meant to frequent.
The door clicked open, and RA1 and RA2 stepped in, apprehensive. Aranka gestured for them to come all the way in; the door wouldnât close if they were too close to it.
The room, it turned out, was too small for them not to be too close to it.
Fine. RA3 and RA4 would be in the playroom at this hour. Theyâd get the psychic feedback, but that wasnât a concern.
RA2 stared at Aranka with something she might have described as suspicion, if she cared enough to classify it. She felt its presence brush against her mind, not quite discreet, but not too obtrusive.
Slowly, understanding dawned on its face. It grabbed RA1âs hand tightly, and RA1 flinched as understanding dawned on it, too.
âYou have outlived your usefulness.â Aranka explained, the cylinder opening with a press of a button. âI will make this quick and painless.â
âPlease,â RA1 babbled, âWeâve done everything you asked of usââ
âThat you have.â Aranka nodded, herding them into the cylinder with a hand on their backs. âYou did very well.â She could almost say she was proud of them.
With a shove, she guided the clones into the cylinder, the glass closing behind them. âThis is not a punishment,â she said, her voice as warm as she could make it. âThis is just how things are.â
Small hands pressed up against the glass, two pairs of wide green eyes staring at her through it. A vent at the top opened, sedative gas pouring out.
Aranka was not lying, when she said she would make it painless.
RA1 trembled, thenâ
It screamed. âAll you ever did was push and push and push!â It slapped its hand against the glass, frustration palpable even to Aranka. âWe never asked to be made!â
Aranka felt her chest seize, her arms stilling against her sides with a wrenching push-pull sensation.
RA1âs shoulders slumped. It snarled, childish rage and upset thick in every word. âI hate this place!â Tears broke away from its face to float in a circle around it, âAnd I hate you!â
Aranka was suddenly very aware of how much water was in the human body. She grunted, trying to regain enough control to access the panel. If she could justâ
Several things happened at once.
RA2 tackled RA1, knocking them both to the floor.
Aranka stumbled as movement returned to her, catching herself on the edge of the control panel.
Something started up with a whirr, causing Aranka to glance at the panel.
Ah. She hadnât caught herself on the edge, not entirelyâthe side of her hand was holding down one of the buttons.
Pushing herself back up to standing, Aranka stepped back from the cylinder. Neither clone was fully unconscious, butâAranka managed to ignore their screams.
Sheâd said sheâd make it quick and painless.
Well. Sheâd certainly made it quick.
#whumptober2022#no.1#adverse effects#psychonauts#zaz writes#death#unethical experimentation#child abuse#pooter pile au#aranka naumann#RA1#RA2#wooooooo!!! another whumptober begins!!#kicking things off with the pooter pile au bc i can#three and four get mentioned here but one and two (and their demise) is the focus
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Whumptober Day 26: No one left behind
Separated
2256 Words; Pooter Pile AU
TW for death, grief, mourning, implied child abuse
AO3 ver
Life was simple.
Wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast. Report to Ms. Naumann, and do studies and practice and worksheets and lab work as directed. Eat lunch, then go play in the testing range for an hour. Return to assisting Ms. Naumann. Eat dinner, wash up, change into pajamas, lights out.
Rinse and repeat.
That was life for Six and Five and Four. It was simple and easy to remember. The content changed, but the structure did not.
It was life for Three, too, up until Ms. Naumann gave him a Special Mission during her visit to the Rhombus. But now Three was off doing whatever Zero would be doing, and Fourâs routine was adjusted now that he was Ms. Naumannâs main connection to Three.
But Threeâs Special Mission didnât affect Sixâ life, and everything remained simple and easy. Not even the integration of Zeroâ
(His name is Raz, some quiet part of Sixâ mind liked to point out. Six was pretty sure that was Fiveâs doing. Zero was the original, and therefore his name was Zero. It was pretty simple math.
Not everything is that simple, Five would always argue back. Six responded with the mental approximation of sticking his tongue out.
Of course everything is simple. Life is simple.)
âdisrupted much. The content of the lab work changed, but the structure remained. Zero was off doing his own stuff with Ms. Naumann; the clones barely even saw him.
The content changes, the structure remains. Rinse and repeat.
It was their free hour, now, and Six was using the markers heâd stolen from the lab to draw waves and clouds.
He didnât fear the water anymore; none of them did, now that Zero had managed to push past his own aquaphobia. His fear no longer bled out into the shared headspace, no longer acted as a block on the clonesâ hydrokinesis.
Six was glad for that. He liked water. It was adaptable and strong, just like Six wanted to be! Water fit in any container! Water carved mountains into canyons!
(Waterâthe ability to control itâwas the whole reason Ms. Naumann cloned Zero in the first place. Was the whole reason Six and Five existed.
In a way, Six could say he and his brother came from the water. Like Aphrodite from seafoam, or early arthropods onto land.
It was a lot more fun to think about it that way.)
âWhatcha drawing?â Five sat down next to Six.
Six glanced at his brother. âI dunno, what does it look like?â
âUm.â Five blanched, suddenly staring very intently at Sixâ beautiful art. âItâs very⊠blue?â
Six smiled with more teeth than was necessary. Slowly, so that his clever and observant brother could follow, he picked up the green marker and added a fish.
Five blinked, face blank. âIs that⊠a butterfly?â
Six made a face.
Five fidgeted, fingers tapping against his legs nervously.
We share a brain, Six âpathed. How are you not getting this?
Five grimaced. âSix, I love you, but that does not look like a fish.â
Six gasped, scandalized.
âOf course it doesn't look like a fish!â Four interjected, balancing one-handed on a balance beam. âYour scribbles are incomprehensible.â
Six stuck his tongue out. âSays you.â He argued. âI think my drawings are perfectly comprehensible.â He turned to his brother. âFive agrees with me, right?â
Five jolted. âTheyâre very colorful.â He offered.
Six sighed dramatically, covering his face with his arm. âEveryoneâs a critic.â He declared.
âYeah,â Four snorted, doing a backflip to the next balance beam. âKeep telling yourself that.â
Six shook his head. What did Four know anyway? Goody-two-shoes on the balance beam over there thought that acrobatics and death-defying stunts were the coolest. Clearly, there was no accounting for taste.
Six knew water was far cooler, anyway. Heâd devoured stories about ships and mermaids and oceans and lakes even when he was afraid of water, and now that Zeroâs fear no longer colored the shared headspace?
The ocean was made up of 321,003,271 cubic miles of water, stuffed to the brim with currents and plants and animals and shipwrecks and debris and cliffs and caves. It consisted of several habitats, all of their complex ecosystems interlocking.
The ocean was deep and dark and full of life and mysteryâsimply put, it was awesome. Four just had terrible taste.
Six returned to his drawing. Five borrowed a piece of paper and some markers to draw with him. Conversation drifted from verbal to telepathic, emotions and abstract thought replacing words.
Four was wrong and Five was great and Six was content.
Life was simple.
+=+=+=+=+
Life was simple.
It was a comfort, when things in the facility got tense. When Ms. Naumann let her frustrations color the edges of her behavior towards the clones, when Five went to check in on Zero and got rebuked, when Four was being a major suck up and tattling on Sixâit was a comfort, to remember that life was simple. That Ms. Naumann had a plan that she was going to see through no matter what, and that Six didnât have to worry about messing up because everything would work out in the end.
(Itâd work out. It had to.)
Life was simple. Six just had to go with the flow, be as flexible and ever-moving as a rushing riverâ
(The content was the only thing to ever change. The structure, as always, remained; it was easy to adapt within the parameters.)
âand heâd easily remain useful. It was his job to be Fiveâs tether, and Five his. As long as they stuck together, as long as they went with the flow and listened to Ms. Naumann, everything would work out.
(Clones that werenât useful got terminated. Six had never seen this; he and Five hadnât existed yet when One destabilized and Two followed after him.
Three and Four had, and they hated talking about it.
Not that Six had ever cared enough about his predecessors to ask.)
Ms. Naumann wasnât the most kind, or even the most attentive, sometimes. That was fine, because she didnât need to beâ
(Memories of Zeroâs mom would sometimes filter through the shared headspace. They always made Ms. Naumann look⊠not cold, because she still cared, but⊠less, somehow. Empty against the vibrance and warmth with which Donatella guided and cared for her children.
The requests and demands were much the same, though. Six was pretty sure it was a motherâs job to set tasks for their children, to have high expectations of their creations.)
âshe already provided them with clothes and food and books and tasks and expectations. She didnât need to teach themâknowledge was input into their brains while they were in the vials. She didnât need to coddle themâclones came in pairs, so they could tether and coddle each other as needed. She didnât need to hold them close if one of them was uneasy, didnât need to soothe hurts and explain difficult topics like Zeroâs mother didâ
(Some small part of Six recognized that Ms. Naumannâs motherly status was not a simple topic.
Six never really paid attention to that part. Life was simple. Ms. Naumann had made them, and that made her close enough to a mother to count.
Life was simple. It was.)
Ms. Naumann was motherly, in her own way. She cared, because she wouldnât have Expectations of the clones if she didnât.
And Six easily met all those expectations. He loved hydrokinesis! Testing and pushing the limits of his ability was fun! There was no need to lose sleep over expectations, so Six didnât.
Three could agonize over being useful enough to avoid termination all he wanted; Six wasnât so deluded. Heâd gone through Ms. Naumannâs filesâwhen she completed the perfect version, all prior copies were no longer needed. Six knew this, and had made his peace with it.
(He liked to think of himself as seafoam, sometimes, when Damoclesâ dangling sword made him nervous. He came from the water, capping the waves that lapped against the shore. Even when he was terminated, the water that made him would still remain.)
Six had made his peace with it. He had.
(Itâd be like that one story, about the mermaid who traded her tail for legs in the name of loveâwhich, ewâonly to end up heartbroken. She disappeared into the waves like seafoam. Six liked to imagine heâd be much the same, minus the romance.)
Besides, even if it was a little scary to think about his termination, Six wouldnât be alone. Ms. Naumann made clones in batches, and she terminated them in batches.
Six would always have Five. Up until the very end. Heâd always have his brotherâs hand to hold, always have that stupid scarf-covered shoulder to bury his face into, always have his own shoulder open to a sticky face and damp curls, always have someone to lean on who could lean on him, someone to argue with over their worksheets and training, someone whoâd been there since the vials when their only form of contact with the world was their mental connection to each other and the machines teaching themâ
Six would always have Five, and Five would always have Six.
Simple as that.
+=+=+=+=+
(Life was simple.)
Five was there one moment.
Five was there one moment, moving towards Zero to help because helping was what Five didâ
And then he was gone.
(Life wasnât simple.)
+=+=+=+=+
Life was supposed to be simple.
Things were supposed to make sense, to follow a structureâ
In some ways, it still was. Zeroâs breakdown aside, Six was still here, still doing the worksheets Ms. Naumann printed out for all of them, still spending his free time watching movies and reading books about water. The content was the sameâ
But the structure had changed.
(Four had changed. Zero and Ms. Naumann had changed.
Six had changed.
But Five did not change, and never could, now).
Life was supposed to be simple, and easy, andâ
And right now it wasnât. Right now, everything had been disrupted, and Six couldnât return to normalcy no matter how much he tried. No matter how many worksheets he did, or how hard he pushed the limits of his abilities, or how many times he watched The Little Mermaidâ
Itâd never be the same, again, because Five was gone stolen washed away dead gone gone GONEâ
(Six fancied himself as coming from seafoam. Felt himself comparable to fair Aphrodite.
Heâd never once thought to compare his brother to the inverse. Never once thought that his brother would go the way of that heartbroken mermaid, dissolving into the flow of the water like seafoam.)
The pain wasâit was simple. Of course Six hurtâhis brother was dead, with nothingness on the other end of their link in his place. The hurt dragged at him like the tides, crashing against him like waves against the shore, breaking him apart piece by pieceâ
But heâd live. Everything would settle back down, eventually. The waves would cease, still, and go back to their normal flow.
(The ocean never settled. Rivers never settled.)
Zero had exhausted himself with that stunt he pulledâ
(The stunt that created storms throughout the facility and across the shared headspace, crashing and roaring and brutal until all Six and Five and Four could do was scream in tandem with Zeroâ
The stunt that took Five awayâ)
And Ms. Naumann was determined to keep it from happening again. So it wouldnât.
(It could.)
Everything would settle. Itâd all go back to normal.
(Five would never come back.)
+=+=+=+=+
Life was anything but simple.
The ocean was made up of 321,003,271 cubic miles of water, stuffed to the brim with currents and plants and animals and shipwrecks and debris and cliffs and caves. It consisted of several habitats, all of their complex ecosystems interlocking.
The ocean was deep and dark and full of life and mystery. The ocean was anything but simple.
Life, Six was finding, was much the same.
He hated it. He wanted to scream out, to cry, to summon a wave and drench everything around him. He wanted to curl into a ball and never talk to anyone again. He wanted to step into the ocean and become seafoam, because at least seafoam couldnât grieve.
(He wanted Five back, most of all. Wanted to have his brother there again, to feel his presence on the other end of their link.
Six often wanted what he couldnât have.)
Ms. Naumann had been dismissive of Fiveâs death. Had been focused more on damage control and subduing Zero. Had only cared so far as it impeded Sixâ usefulness.
(Six had learned to keep his head down, to go with the flow, and do his best.
Useful clones didnât get terminated early, after all.
But clones still got terminated in the end, and reallyâ
What was life without Five, anyway?)
Zero hadnât mattered to the clones, until he did. Three had been just another clone, until he wasnât. The world outside the facility didnât matter, until it did. Ms. Naumann had been like a mother to all of the clones, until she wasnât.
(Six was starting to realize that maybe she never was in the first place.)
Life was supposed to be simple. Had been, until it wasnât.
(But it had never been simple in the first place, had it? Five had been right. Six was just ignoring the truth right in front of him.)
Life had seemed so simple.
It was anything but.
#whumptober2022#no.26#separated#psychonauts#zaz writes#death#grief#mourning#child abuse#pooter pile au#RA6#RA5#RA4#aranka naumann#raz is mentioned at several points but he doesn't get any lines so i'm not tagging him#gave six sokka's drawing skills bc i found it funny. there's no meaning behind it i just thought that'd be a neat character note#also. this is the piece i had fully written. BEFORE october started#(with some small edits made last night before i queued it)#also just. can we talk about six' ocean hyperfixation? yes i know i'm the one who decided he'd have it but i think it's very cute and funky#kid devours any and all movies and books related to it#all of the clones are pretty well read thanks to the vials but six can and will tell you random ocean facts without prompting#and i just#i just#đ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„ș
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Whumptober Day 19: Enough is enough
Knees buckling
2795 Words; Pooter Pile AU
TW for experimentation, blood, death
AO3 ver
Three was starting to doubt his mission.
Ms. Naumann was never wrong, of courseâor so Three had thought. But heâd learned, on this mission, that adults made an awful lot of mistakes.
Three had learned quite a lot on this mission, actually. How to utilize mental connections for travel and combat.
(That had been such a massive mistake. The kind of mistake that Ms. Naumann might have terminated him for. Heâd frantically worked to fix it, and when Ms. Forsythe appeared heâd been ready for the worstâ
Ms. Forsythe was a very different woman from Ms. Naumann).
How to slow down time.
(Now that was cool. Five and Six couldnât do that!)
How to craft an archetype.
(A crude drawing of Four in the originalâs performance outfit, constantly looking for an excuse to cartwheel and show off. Three had been so terrified that that would give the game away, the pang in his chest matched by the frantic pounding of his heart, but Teacher Cassie had just smiled and told him heâd done a good job.)
(Four had laughed, amusement crackling purple through their link when heâd looked through Threeâs eyes.
It had only made the pang in Threeâs chest more poignant.)
Three had learned that the Aquato Curse wasnât real, not in the way that everyone thought it was. Heâd learned that adults messed up a lot, actually, and thatâthat was okay. It was okay to mess up, so long as it wasnât the same mistake over and overâ
Three had learned so much. Had made friends with so many peopleâmore people than heâd ever even seen in his life before his mission, before leaving the compound to test his shielding against the psilirium deposit in the Rhombus. Three had gone on life-changing adventures through peopleâs minds, had seen so many different perspectives of the worldâ
Because everyone thought he was the original. Everyone thought he was Raz.
All of these things Three had gotten to experienceâall of the sights and sounds and smells and tastes, all of the people and places and eventsâit should be Raz experiencing all of this. It should be Raz being heralded as the youngest Junior Agent in Psychonauts history, Raz reintegrating with the family he ran away from, Raz holding Liliâs hand. It should be Raz.
But it was Three, instead. A copy.
A fake.
Three trusted in Ms. Naumannâs judgment. She had taken the original with her and she had helped Raz work through his aquaphobia and it had helped all of the clones and Three knew this.
(But he also knew new memories, of machines and water and sterile halls and a dark lonely room. Of tests and exhaustion and fear-hurt-ache and homesickness. Of cold metal and tight straps and bright lights.
Three had similar memories, just more pleasant.
But it was just like heâd learned on his mission; it was all a matter of perspective.)
Three trusted in Ms. Naumannâs plans.
At least, he was trying to.
+=+=+=+=+
âGood morning, Subject Zero.â Aranka greeted, paging through her notes.
The child glared at her, but the effect was softened by the exhaustion smeared under his eyes.
Hm. Aranka pursed her lips. Sheâd have to look into sleep aids, it seemed, if her star subject wasnât getting enough sleep in the time allotted.
She started down the hall. âCome along, now.â She commanded. âWe have a busy day ahead of us! You and Subject Six are going to play some water games with each other.â She turned back to the child, pleased to see him begrudgingly following behind her. âDoesnât that sound fun?â She turned back around and continued down the hall.
She didnât need to look to feel the heavy resignation hanging off of him.
+=+=+=+=+
âHappy Birthday!â
Three smiled in pleasant surprise at the set-up in front of him. The parking lot in the Questionable Area had been decorated with all kinds of streamers and balloons. Picnic tables had been brought in, all sorts of food piled atop the tablecloths. A large birthday cake stood untouched in the center, the frosting the green and blue stripes of the Aquatodome, with little frosting merit badges circling the sides.
Eleven unlit candles sat in a wobbly circle atop the cake.
âYou didnât have to do all of this just for my birthday.â Three commented, smiling.
(Except it wasnât his birthday.)
âNonsense!â Morris crowed, adjusting the knobs of his soundboard. âYou saved the world twice in one week, little man. This is the least we could do.â
The other junior agents voiced their agreement, before shooing Three towards the table.
âCâmon, itâs time for cake!â Sam urged.
Anxiety awoke in Threeâs stomach. He tried not to let it show. âAre you sure thereâs enough cake for everyone? ThereâsâŠâ He swallowed. âThereâs a lot of people here.â His whole family, the senior agents, Truman and Hollis and Lili, the Psychic SevenâŠ
(They were probably just here for the party. They werenât here for him.)
âNah, thereâs more than enough.â Gisu put in. âCompton and Cassie made sure of that.â She clutched her levboard to her side and stalked away across the parking lot, making a beeline for where Dion and Frazie were chatting.
âRight.â Three squared his shoulders. Took a breath in. He could do this.
The rest of the party awaited. Three plastered a smile on his face, and moved in to mingle.
+=+=+=+=+
The water swirled at Razâ command, several wobbly hands taking shape and reaching up into the air.
Next to him, Six practically danced in place, his half of the pool dancing with him.
Raz hunched his shoulders, and concentrated. All of the hands on his side coalesced into a single giant hand, then broke apart into a giant swirl of smaller hands.
Six laughed. âCool!â He gestured, and his half of the pool did the same thing.
Raz smiled. Aranka was terrible, and this whole place sucked, but the clones werenât too bad. A little creepy, given that it was his own face that was smiling and laughing at the water and complimenting his technique, butâ
It was nice to have someone he could consider a friend. And Four and Five and Six were all really nice.
(Raz didnât know why there wasnât a One or Two. Nobody talked to him when he asked.)
Raz stepped forwards. He made the hand-of-hands wiggle, shift, and thenâ
+=+=+=+=+
Three took a bite of his cake. It was delicious, moist and crumbly vanilla soft and sweet in his mouth.
Beside him, Mirtala hummed around her own bite, hand on her cheek as she chewed.
The cake turned to ash in Threeâs mouth.
He was lying. He was lying to all of them just so he could take the place of someone they lovedâ
Three pushed his plate away. He didnât deserve this.
âRaz?â Liliâs voice was alight with concern as Three stood up from his seat. âSomething wrong?â
Three needed to not be here, sitting in someone elseâs place while everyone celebrated him.
âI uhââ His shoulders hunched. He tried for a placating smile. It came out more like a grimace. âBathroom.â
Three ran.
+=+=+=+=+
The massive hand-of-hands bursted, the sudden wave dousing both Raz and Six.
Right. His shitty hydrokinesis.
Raz grumbled as water dripped off of him. To his left, Six twirled, the water pulling off of him in a single fluid movement.
Raz attempted the same. Most of the water clinging to him pulled away, but he was still damp in several places, water languidly dripping from his curls.
The speakers came on with a crackle.
âRight.â Arankaâs voice was tired, as though she was the one burdened by Razâ struggles. âWeâll proceed with amplification.â The speakers turned off with a sharp hiss.
Raz wrapped his arms around himself. He hated the amplifier. It made all of his psychic powers stronger, which in turn made everything so much louder.
But heâd soldiered through it before. Raz grit his teeth.
Heâd push through it again.
+=+=+=+=+
Three paced at the edge of the river, oblivious to the way the water frothed next to him.
He couldnât do this. He couldnât just stand around and pretend to be Raz anymore. It wasnât fair to everyone else, it wasnât fair to Raz.
But what else could he do? Failing his mission meant he wasnât useful, and clones that werenât useful got terminated.
(Psychic feedback like twin screams, harsh and loud. Pain-agony-terror grating against Threeâs skull like a jackhammer, Fourâs grip on his shoulders like a vice.
Three would do everything to keep himself and Four from that fate.
He had to be useful. He had to.)
But sticking around meant perpetuating the lieâmeant continuing to keep his head down while the knowledge of where the original was weighed heavy around his neck.
He felt sticky. This was wrong. But cloying fear clung to his edgesâhe couldnât fail his mission. He couldnât.
The guilt was too much. The fear was too much.
Everything was too much.
Three didnât know what to do.
+=+=+=+=+
Razâ knees buckled, his palms hitting the floor hard.
Everything hurt.
The amplifier remained on, the sudden noise of every stray thought overwhelming. All of the water in the room and out reached out to him, all of itâ
It was too much.
Six stopped, the water he was moving falling back into the pool as he turned to Raz. âHey, uhâŠâ He fidgeted, tentatively reaching out a hand. âYou okay?â
Raz screamed.
Enough.
The water around him, both in the room and out, roared. It rose at his call, all of it reaching out to him with whispered rage-hurt-fury. Raz reached back.
The boundary between him and the water melted away, until he was the water and the water was him. Nothing existed but the storm surging around him, the tearing of metal walls lost on his ears as he screamed.
The water was Raz, and Raz was the water. Anger-hurt-pain-make it stop make it stop MAKE IT STOP was all he could hear, a rising cacophony against his mind as he rose, the water swirling under him.
His mind surged. He was Raz. He was Six. He was Four. He was Five. He was Three. He was Raz. He was everything. He was nothing.
He was the water.
+=+=+=+=+
Five fought through the psychic feedback as best he could, ignoring the way the pipes in the walls around him groaned ominously.
Raz was hurting. Raz was hurting, and it was hurting all the clones, the psychic feedback drilling into their skulls and overwhelming everything else. Five could barely stand, but he forced himself down the hall towards the source, leaning against the wall when his legs refused to cooperate.
Raz was hurting. Five would help.
He just had to get there, first.
+=+=+=+=+
Three screamed, his legs turning to jelly under him. The river rose up beside him, loud and furious, but Three could hardly feel the water moving through the sheer pain-hurt-tired-anger-make it stop make it stop MAKE IT STOP overwhelming him, filling his head and pounding away at it like a jackhammer.
His surroundings melted away until there was nothing but water, shredded metal and bits of wiring being tossed around within it of little consequence. Power roiled through every inch of him, anger-hurt-tired overwhelming his senses.
Faintly, Three felt hands on his shoulders. But then the sensation was gone, lost to the storm shredding through the shared headspace. His shields were nothing against the onslaught, his mind drowned in the storm until all that remained was the water, sloshing violently against his skull.
He was Three. He was Five. He was Four. He was Six. He was Raz. He was everything and nothing. He was the water.
He couldnât stop screaming.
+=+=+=+=+
Five pushed the door open. Saw Six surrounded by foaming waves, eyes glowing as he screamed in tandem with Raz.
Raz, who was standing atop a swirling spire of water, eyes like twin suns.
The walls had been torn, pipes twisted and broken to allow the water inside them out. The lights were broken, debris floating in the frothing water.
The glass of the observation deck was shattered, water raining in hard. Five could just barely make out Ms. Naumann clinging to the edges, staring out into the storm with an indiscernible expression.
Pain pounded Fiveâs skull. The water swirling around him and out into the hall behind him reached out, beckoning, all of Razâ rage and hurt squeezing Fiveâs mind.
Five squared his shoulders. Reached back only as much as was needed to clear a path, the water parting before him. Five made his way to his brother, and put his hands on Sixâ shoulders, touching their foreheads together.
It hurt. Pain spilled out like a waterfall, pounding against Fiveâs skull and begging to be let in.
Five screamed. Held Sixâ shoulders tighter, and pushed deeper.
He was Six. He was Five. He was Six. He was Five. He was the water, he was everything, he was nothingâ
He was Five.
Six gasped as Five snapped back into his body. They both stumbled, the psychic feedback overwhelming.
âFive.â Six gasped, straining just to keep the water swirling around them from touching them. âFive, what are youââ
Five let go of Sixâ shoulders, his face set in determination. âDonât worry, Sixer.â He said. âIâve got this.â He turned to the edge of the circle, and concentrated on splitting the waves.
Six stumbled. âWait!â
But Five didnât wait, pushing ahead into the waves.
Raz was hurting. Raz was hurting, and Five was going to help.
Five stepped forwards. The water surged, reaching out to him.
Five raised his hand. The water curved into a tunnel pointing straight at Raz.
Five stepped forwardsâ
+=+=+=+=+
He was Raz. He was Six. He was Four. He was Five. He was Three. He was everything. He was nothing. He was the water, and the water was him.
He was Raz. He was Five. He was Four. He was Three. He was everything. He was nothing. He was the water, and the water was him.
He was everything. He was nothing. He was Four. He was Three. He was Six. He wasâ
The
screaming
stopped.
+=+=+=+=+
Augustus flinched as his son screamed, the water behind him twisting and swirling and frothing.
(Swirling like that night, when his not-mother rose high above the gulch, water swirling around her. The similarity knocked the air from Augustusâ chest, and he couldnât get it back no matter how hard he tried.)
Sasha and Milla were already in motion, trying to approach Raz through the water beginning to twist around him. Slowly, they were approaching.
Raz continued screaming, attracting more and more partygoers to the riverâs edge. He clutched his head, his eyes glowing too bright to make out his expression. His screams morphed into a scattered chant, a repeated garble of âIt hurts it hurts make it stop make it stop MAKE IT STOPââ
Augustus reached out, ingrained fear holding him back. He needed toâhe needed to help, to find whatever was making his son scream like this, equal parts fear and pain, and make it go away.
He didnât know how.
Donatella grabbed his arm, naked terror on her face.
The
screaming
stopped.
Raz flopped forwards, all of the water falling unceremoniously to the ground.
He wasnât moving.
He wasnât moving, blood trickling down from his nose.
Milla was quick to kneel next to him. Augustus was not as quick to follow as heâd have liked.
âHeâs just unconscious.â She pronounced. Her voice was calm. Her face was lined with worry.
Augustus lifted his son into his arms, cradling him close. It was too much like when heâd found him across the lake at that summer camp, brainless and unmoving and so, so small.
âWhat happened?â He asked.
The agents didnât have a concrete answer for him.
+=+=+=+=+
Aranka stooped down over the unconscious body on the floor, checking it for injuries.
Near the other side of the room, RA6 was kneeled over RA5âs unmoving body, staring blankly at the broken limbs and lifeless face.
The cloneâs death, though unfortunate, was the only reason Aranka had been able to subdue the child now lying before her. She felt a twinge of sympathy for RA6, but allowed nothing more.
Standing up, RA0 in her arms, Aranka turned to where Four was gripping the broken edges of the amplifierâs control panel, eyes wide and face pale.
âSubject Four.â She started, âReturn yourself and Subject Six to the dorms.â She grimaced at the ruins of the testing range. âI will handle the clean up.â
Aranka turned away, mentally going through the list of things she would need to take care of the childâs injuries as she left the room.
She didnât look back.
#whumptober2022#no.19#knees buckling#psychonauts#zaz writes#death#unethical experimentation#blood#pooter pile au#razputin aquato#aranka naumann#RA3#RA5#RA6#RA4#augustus aquato#oop!!! the consequences of aranka's actions have come to bite her!!#things are gonna start unraveling for her now#dw guys three is okay#five isn't though#also five was able to fight through it bc he's a clairvoyance specialist. he's got a strong sense of self
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Whumptober Day 13: can't make an omelet without breaking a few legs
Dislocation
1473 Words; Pooter Pile AU
TW for injury description
AO3 ver
âThree, look!â
Three looked up from his book at his brother. Four was doing a handstand on top of the small swing set Ms. Naumann had installed, looking excitedly at Three upside down. The moment Four knew Three was watching, he proceeded to handstand walk along the bar, grinning the whole time.
Three cheered. âYouâre getting really good at that!â He set his book down and stood up. âBet you canât do a flip!â
Four scoffed. âOf course I can.â He boasted. Heâd seen the originalâs memories; this was baby stuff. With practiced ease, he went from gripping the bar in a handstand to balancing on it, arms spread out to his sides.
Watch this!
Four backflipped, landing on the bar for barely a second before he jumped again, twirling in the air.
Watch this!
Watch me!
Three was chanting, now, a steady chorus of âFlip! Flip! Flip! Flip!â undercut with mental pulses of encouragement. Ribbons of joy snaked through their link, tethering Four to the idea that he could do anything.
(Memories of calloused hands around his own, leading him along a practice wire. Memories of being thrown across the trapeze, the knowledge that heâd always be caught firm in his mind. Memories of being lifted in the air and spun around, laughter in the air.
The memories werenât really Fourâs, but he enjoyed them all the same.)
Four jumped higher, trying to push himself. The swing set wasnât all that tall, maybe eight feet at the mostâFour had climbed up higher on the cabinets and shelves in the storage room.
And compared to memories from the original? This was baby stuff.
Four double-jumped with a burst of psychic power, curled into a ball and spun in the air. Free Hour would be over soon, but he was having too much fun to care.
Four came back down, uncurling to land on the bar.
He wrongfooted.
For a moment, it was like the whole world slowed down as Four was suddenly weightless, the bar rising above him.
No, the bar wasnât rising.
Four was falling.
Panic kicked in. Four caught the chain of one of the swings, hands stinging from the frictionâ
Pain erupted in his shoulder and he yelped, letting go. His back slammed against the floor seconds later, knocking the air out of him.
Panic filtered in through the link. Static fizzled through the back of Fourâs mind.
Distantly, he could hear Three yelling.
Four wasnât sure how long he laid there, everything around him fuzzy. Maybe it was only a few seconds. Maybe it was an eternity.
Throbbing pain in his shoulder battled with tingling numbness down his arm. His neck tingled. His back ached.
The bright lights of the playroom bore down on him, making Four squint his eyes.
And then the lights were blocked by the looming form of Ms. Naumann, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Four wheezed.
Ms. Naumannâs frown tightened. âDonât move.â She commanded, her hand feeling out the shape of Fourâs shoulder.
Four hissed in pain at the contact.
Ms. Naumann hmmed. âYouâve dislocated your shoulder.â She explained. âPerhaps next time you might consider doing your flips on the mats.â
Four managed to project a weak yes, maâam as Ms. Naumann kneeled on his right side.
âSubject 3.â Ms. Naumannâs voice was even, betraying no hint of annoyance or worry. âCome here and watch.â
Three scurried over, shoulders hunching as he kneeled down next to Ms. Naumann. She glanced at him briefly, confirming that he was paying attention. Holding Fourâs wrist so that his arm was level with his body, hand facing down, she spoke.
âWhat you need to do with a dislocated shoulder is hold it like this. Then,â Ms. Naumann began to slowly move Fourâs arm away from his body, pumping it up and down as she did, âYou bring their arm up like this until it is directly perpendicular to the body.â She started to turn it in place. âRotate it slowly, just like the smaller motions of before. Thenââ She pushed Fourâs arm up slowly, carefully.
Four squeaked as feeling returned to his arm.
A pulse of telekinesis, and suddenly the materials for a sling were in Ms. Naumannâs hand. She bent Fourâs arm at the elbow before securing it against his body.
At her command, Four sat up, cradling the sling.
Ms. Naumann stood up, pinching the bridge of her nose. âFree Hour is over.â She declared. âBoth of you return to your dorm and do the chemistry worksheets until told otherwise.â She stalked over to the door, before turning back to the clones. âGo on, go.â
Three and Four were quick to leave.
+=+=+=+=+
Ms. Naumann brought in a medical dummy a week after that, alongside books and videos on basic medical techniques.
Three threw himself into the new studies with fervor, as he always did. Four picked up most of the lessons through Threeâs own deep dives into them, content to let his brother take the lead.
(The knowledge was useful. It would be good to have, and by having it, Three would ensure that he stayed usefulâ
He needed to be useful. Useful clones were kept around, and Three needed to be kept around. He wouldnât go out the way One and Two did, not if he could help it.
The psychic echoes of their deaths lingered still.
It was a good reminder.)
+=+=+=+=+
Three was gone.
Not dead goneâFour could talk to Three at any time he wanted to, through their shared headspace. But the physical absence was still there,Â
Five and Six were nice, in an abstract sort of way. But they werenât Three.
Because Three was gone, off living out Razâ life while Ms. Naumann worked with him.
Four hadnât gotten the chance to meet Raz yet. He knew him, through the memories and the shared thoughts and psychic feedback, but he didnât know him. Had never met the original, for all that Raz was right here in the facility.
But wherever Ms. Naumann had decided Raz would stay, it wasnât anywhere the clones spent their time.
Yet. Six had an odd knack for getting into Ms. Naumannâs files and getting away with it, and he was eager to tell Five and Four (and Three) all about how Ms. Naumann was just âmaking sure our guest is adjusted to this place and its rulesâ and âless afraid of the waterâ before having him integrate.
Four was actually kind of excited to meet the original, all things considered. Raz was an actual trained acrobat! Four could get so much more knowledge interacting with the original than he could through the shared headspace!
But the excitement of getting to meet someone new didnât get rid of Threeâs absence. Didnât clear out the fear that Three might not come back.
None of the clones had ever left the facility before Ms. Naumann went to the Rhombus. Three technically wasnât even supposed to accompany her, but sheâd gotten the idea to test his mental shielding against the psylirium. And when sheâd encountered the original, unattended and half-consciousâ
Three took to his new mission with gusto, like he did with everything Ms. Naumann assigned him. And Four was happy his brother got to see the wider worldâhe really was!
But.
Even though Three was right there on the other end of the link, even though Three was telling Four every detail of the events at the Motherlobe, even though Three checked in often, mentally coming to Four for advice and ideasâ
Four couldnât help but think back to when he fell for the first time and dislocated his shoulder. His arm had still been there, tingly and numbâ
But he hadnât been able to move it. He hadnât been able to move it, because even though it was still attached to him it was dislocated, ball popped out of the socket and the surrounding muscles and tendons damaged. Fourâs brother was still there, still attached by their mental link across the shared headspace, but he wasnât here, the connection stretched across miles.
It stung more than it should, Four felt. He should be happy for how far his brother was going, how much he was accomplishingâand he was! He was, honest!
But there was no chanting when he got up on a balance beam, no ribbons of joy streaming through their link making Four feel like he could do anything. Four was no longer the one who kept pushing to greater heights, for all that he still pushed himself to be a better acrobat. Three was the one pushing himself further and further.
Four curled up on Threeâs cot, rubbing the edge of the blanket between his fingers. It wasnât any different from Fourâs blanket, or from Five or Sixâ.
Four dragged it over to his cot anyway.
#whumptober2022#no.13#dislocation#psychonauts#zaz writes#injury#dislocated shoulder#pooter pile au#aranka naumann#RA3#RA4#5 and 6 and raz are all mentioned#today's is kinda iffy for me#partly because i had to work today and then executive dysfunction came for my kneecaps#so this is later than all the others#and a little rushed#and partly because all i had planned for this originally was the dislocation scene???#the other stuff got added after#anyway tho. i got it done!!!#i am going to go lie down now
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