Kevin Curry
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Psychonauts 24
🕑 Added 2023-03-24 14:00:05 +0000 UTCThis is the last bonus update for March, pushing the early access to a whole four updates. Enjoy.
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[Augustus Aquato, Ringmaster of the Aquato’s Flying Circus]
Augustus wasn’t really a stranger to fighting the little suited men, the censors. He usually cleared out before he took out too many, as he wasn’t sure if he was hurting his children by doing so, but they were… weak.
At least, they usually were. These censors seemed much more on the ball than the ones in his family’s minds. Fortunately, Razputin seemed to be extraordinarily agile and strong, even by Aquato standards, within the mental world. So it wasn’t much time before the attack ceased.
“Wow!” Razputin said after the last one was felled, vibrating in excitement. “You were all, Bam! And, and… Pow!” Words failed his son as he attempted to gush over Augustus’ combat skills. He was fairly intelligent for a three year old, but only about as much as a five year old. He still had a limited vocabulary. “It was so cool!”
“Yes, Razputin.” Augustus said, interrupting his son’s attempt to verbalize his opinions. “Censors are the weakest mental defenses that Elya can bring to bear against us. This is too dangerous for you.”
“But I can help!” Raz insisted. “Astrally projecting doesn’t hurt you badly if you get kicked out!” Oh? Augustus has always been rather cautious about that… “It just stuns you for a few minutes!” Ah, that would still lead to death if the gentleman in control of Tanya’s body was able to do anything about it.
Still… Augustus doesn’t actually know how to forcibly eject Razputin. His only idea is to personally administer some… discipline. He knew he’d never go that far with his children. Unpleasant amounts of exercise or particularly disgusting chores has always been his go-to punishment… “If you don’t leave right now, Razputin,” Augustus began. “You’re going to be solely responsible for Sugarcube’s trailer for two weeks.” He threatened.
“Fine!” Razputin said, his voice firm. “But first we have to help Elya!”
Augustus was shocked. He never expected this level of… resolve from a three year old. He knew it was those Psychonauts comic books giving him delusions of grandeur… but a man has to stand up for what he believes in, and if he crushes Razptuin’s spirit now… “Well, the first thing you need to know is that her name isn’t Elya.”
“Huh?” Razputin asked.
“You recall when I explained that Elya was running away, and will likely lie about herself a lot for the first month or two of her being here?” Augustus asked. Razputin nodded. “Well, her name’s actually Tanya Dosva. She has a missing person’s poster.” He brought it out from his pocket, unfolding it and showing it to his son. He was really quite intelligent, the main reason he lets the boy read his comic books is because learning to read at such a young age was definitely something to be encouraged.
Razputin seemed to struggle with the larger words, but seemed to absorb the gist of it. “So we need to break her hypnosis so she’ll go back home!”
“Very good, Razputin. You understand.” Augustus added. He turned towards the dizzying urban landscape. “Now… where to go first?”
“Ah…” Razputin said, wracking his brain. “True Psychic Tales doesn’t show what it’s like inside of a mind. So… deeper?” He guessed.
“That’s as good of an idea as any, I suppose.” Augustus replied. The two of them walked down the street, empty of vehicles and staying wary of any ambushes from more censors. “There’s a lot of road work…” He observed. There weren’t any workers, but many roads were blocked off by signs and barricades, making the city much less open than it would otherwise be.
“Hey, that building has an open door!” Razputin said, running towards it. That sounds like a trap.
“Razputin! Wait!” Augustus shouted as he ran ahead of his son.
Once inside the skyscraper, it appeared to be an art gallery, filled with paintings. Each one depicted a gruesome death for Tanya. When either of them focused on one, it moved like a television program, showing the death in more detail. Augustus quickly picked up Razputin and covered his eyes.
One had Tanya wearing some kind of military jumpsuit, floating in the air with a set of binoculars. What must be a dozen men rushed her position and filled her full of bullets, finishing by decapitating her. A man’s voice: “We crushed the spotter. Break away!”
Another had her standing with a glowing golden object in her hand, in front of a raving madman of a scientist. “I disabled the safety mechanisms!” He proclaimed before the object exploded.
Tanya was before a firing squad. “This is what you get for your cowardice!” Before being, once more, filled with bullets.
An older man had his pistol to Tanya’s head. “Sorry, Tanya. But you disobeyed orders.” And her brains were splattered.
Tanya in a bed in a room on fire, with screaming children as background noise. She erected a psychic shield, but it was shattered by a falling beam of wood, burying her in flaming rubble.
Tanya shooting something with a gun, a mad grin on her face. “Like this. Are you watching, Grantz? You do it like… this.” before a terrified man behind her in the same uniform raised his own gun and shot her in the back of the head. That one was extra weird.
Tanya was obviously sick in bed, in a cot in a tent. The tent broke open, burying Tanya in snow.
Tanya is killed by a teenage girl glowing gold, torn apart with her bare hands.
Tanya, clearly starved and dying on the ground, getting torn apart by alley cats.
Tanya, lying catatonic, wearing a red dress that was probably nice before it got torn open, getting shot by a fat naked man.
The list went on. Dozens and dozens of grisly scenes depicted in startling realism. Razputin struggled in his arms. “Hey, Dad, let me go!”
“I’m sorry Razputin, I wouldn’t want you to have any nightmares about this.” Augustus said. “This is not easy to watch.” He tilted his head in confusion. “But why would there be a gallery of her dying? Most of these are absurd.” There were some… consistent details though. Was she a child soldier for the Soviets? The Gzar would do something like that in a second.
“I dunno.” Razputin replied. “She always did seem kind of scared of everything.” He seemed to have accepted that Augustus wasn’t going to let him see anything here, just going limp.
After some further review, there were a few that didn’t display Tanya dying. One had her covered in blood while laughing like a madman with shining golden eyes and a rapturous smile, a shining gold medallion illuminating the corpses surrounding her, each with a uniform that matched her own. Another had her trussed up, hanging from the ceiling in a straightjacket and sensory deprivation helmet. Another had the Director, being shoved in front of a train. That one… seemed different from the others in another way beyond depicting a different person. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Let’s go somewhere else.” Augustus said, carrying his son outside the gallery of horrible deaths.
Off-balance from the visions within, he almost didn’t notice the censors waiting outside for him, but the first one smacking him in the side with a stamp announced their presence well enough. He tossed his son upwards and then forwards like a shot put at one of the big ones, and Razputin easily curled into a ball between motions, kicking outward at the censor at exactly the right time to send it flying into another building, destroying the over muscled brute in a puff of smoke. “Aw yeah! Combo move!” Razputin announced after landing on his feet.
Just like before, the censors were a lot more competent than the ones in his family’s heads, but he chalked that up to Tanya being a trained psychic rather than self-taught. Their numbers were also superior, but their strength… was not. They were just as flimsy as any others. His long-honed strength made mincemeat of the suited caricatures of men.
Razputin also accounted for himself quite well, which was less surprising the second time. After the last censor vanished, he started to do a little victory dance. Adorable. Augustus started to dance along, and they spent a minute or two celebrating their victory as father and son. “That was so cool!” Razputin exclaimed, vibrating with energy after that bit of exercise.
Well, it kind of was, wasn’t it? “Well, let’s see if we can find that rude Director person. I have a few things to say to him.” Some of them are actual words, too. But he expects that his fists will be snappier with the quips.
“Yes!” Razputin said quietly, eagerly following.
Augustus observed the urban environment. There had to be a better way than wandering randomly. He has no experience in trying to delve deeply into someone’s mind, so…
“Hey Dad, what are those, anyway?” Razputin asked, pointing at the floating chalk drawings that occasionally populated the place.
“I don’t know, son.” Augustus replied. “They’re fairly normal, I think.”
Razputin fearlessly swiped his arm at one, a drawing in the shape of a gun, pointed directly at the observer. It slurped into his body the instant he touched it. “That’s nice!” Razputin declared. “It’s… sweet? No, it’s tasteless… It’s like… a cheer! Yeah, it feels like a crowd cheering me on!”
Really? Augustus hopped up and touched one that was replacing a sign with a chalk drawing of that same sign. It probably said ‘stay away from the Psychonauts’, but in Chinese or whatever this language was. He was oddly sure of that, actually.
The drawing slurped into his body much like the other one did, and Augustus felt his fatigue lighten, the slight pain from the stamp impact immediately diminishing. Ah, it was replenishing his energy! “It’s restoring my energy too, Razputin.” He said, slowly so his son could learn the new word.
They spent a few minutes gathering the drawings, paying little attention to what they were but appreciating the pick me up. Augustus once more reviewed the environment. How was he supposed to find anything in this city?
His eyes unfocused, and in the distance, all but two of the buildings blurred into nothingness, with the streets beyond the ones leading to those two buildings equally meaningless. Blinking intently to dispel the illusion, he started walking towards one of them. Was that an illusion? Or was he seeing the truth of things?
Being a psychic sucked sometimes.
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The second building of note was defended by more censors, but it was a token force, easily dispatched. Once inside, Augustus noticed that the place was absolutely filled with weapons. Swords, guns, cannons, some recognizable, some that seemed more… futuristic. There was a military plane hanging from the ceiling.
“Cool…” Razputin declared, fascinated by the military hardware.
Augustus’ eyes unfocused again, and the entire room seemed to be soaked in blood, each weapon dripping with it. Blinking harshly, Augustus firmed his resolve as he went through the armory to the stairs. On impulse, he went downstairs into the basement rather than upstairs. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought it was the way to go.
He went through the door, Raz at his heels, and found himself in a hallway with no ceiling. Instead, it was a blood-red sky above a dirt trench, with a thin layer of blood soaking the ground.
“Ew, this place is gross!” Raz declared, scrunching up his nose at the horrible stench. It smelled like rotten corpses, with an unidentifiable after-taste that Augustus couldn’t quite identify. The sound of thunder rumbled through the walls. “Let’s go through fast, I don’t wanna be here when it rains.”
Picking up the pace, the muted sounds of raindrops joined the thunder, but only the barest hint of falling dirt and drops of water came down on them.
Eventually, they found another door, this one rather fancy, a thick wood that was well-appointed. It wasn’t locked, so Augustus opened it and urged Razputin inside before following him.
This room was an office, rather spartan but clean and organized. The office chair had Tanya inside it, unconscious, wearing what appeared to be a soldier’s dress uniform festooned with silver medals, including an oversized hat holding back platinum blonde hair. She had many golden lines criss-crossing her body, including a patch of it on her head and a larger one on her chest, from throat to stomach. Her arms were clad in dull silver gauntlets, making her hands seem thrice the size, an impossibility if they were real. Above her head, on the wall, was a massive rifle that was built for… someone with hands that size, he supposed.
She was also bound by thin golden chains, a tiny, delicate lock positioned over her throat holding them all together. The chains were firmly attached to those golden lines, which reminded Augustus of the human pin cushion, back at the circus. Nice man, treated the bearded lady right.
In front of that desk, in a servile stance that quickly morphed into a protective one, was a curvaceous woman with teddy bear ears, wearing a uniform similar to Tanya’s, but it wasn’t a dress uniform, more functional. “Who are you?” The bear-woman asked, her voice lined with a deep growl.
“I could ask you the same question.” Augustus quipped back. “But I am Augustus Aquato, acrobat extraordinaire! I am also young Tanya’s current employer, so forgive me if I am concerned.” Donatella was also already planning Tanya’s wedding with Dion, but Augustus thought that was premature even before learning about Tanya’s background.
“I am Corporal Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov.” She replied, a Russian name if Augustus had ever heard one. She glared at him. “Do not come closer. The Argent must stay asleep.”
Hrm. Waking Tanya up will be a bit more complicated than it seems, he was getting the impression that the Corporal was a lot stronger than a censor was. She seemed young, an older teenager to early twenties. Was she Tanya’s commander, if she was indeed a child soldier for the Soviets? Or… if this appearance was a memory, she could even be the child’s mother, older in reality than here.
His instincts as a carny screamed at him to not piss off the mother bear. Razputin, on the other hand, had the survival instinct of a daredevil. His fault, really. “That’s a cool gun!” Razputin declared, walking forward fearlessly to inspect it.
Instead of lashing out, the Corporal’s angry face melted away into a maternal smile. “Aw, aren’t you a cutie!” She declared, scooping Razputin up and giving him a big hug. Augustus snorted in laughter, but resisted the urge to actually laugh. For Razputin’s sake.
“Dad! She feels like a giant stuffed animal!” Raputin complained. “I can’t get out!” Really? She didn’t feel like a person? That was strange… and potentially very sad.
“Miss, if you could let go of my son, please?” Augustus asked. “And why are you keeping Tanya bound in chains?”
The Corporal startled. “Oh, I’m sorry sir!” She said, setting Razputin down on a chair that wasn’t there before she did so. She sat in a second suddenly-appearing chair and gestured to a third, sized for him. “Have a seat. Do you want some coffee?”
Well, maybe he could get some answers. “Yes, that sounds good.” He said, settling into the chair. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but he usually sat on milk crates, so he didn’t care. “Some milk for my son, please.”
The woman conjured a pair of steaming mugs, one with milk and the other with coffee. Passing them out, she started to explain. “This isn’t Tanya’s main consciousness.” She said, gesturing to the imprisoned girl. “The Argent is… well, the specifics aren’t important.” Augustus disagreed. “But to summarize, the Argent is only to awaken when there is no other option but violence. It’s my duty to keep her safely asleep, so as to preserve human life, as well as Tanya’s mental integrity.”
“Mental integrity?” Augustus repeated, sipping at the coffee. “Wow, that’s good coffee.”
Viktoriya beamed. “Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, and sweet as love. Just how she likes it.” Tanya must have a very poor opinion on the purity of angels, given how much milk and sugar was in this. Her expression softened. “You may have seen the cracks in the sky?” She asked. Augustus nodded. “The Argent’s awakening amplifies Tanya’s psychic abilities immensely. It’s not healthy for a mind to handle that much power. It was worse before the Psychonauts put the Argent to bed.” Ah, that explains why the flyer was so adamant that she not be threatened. This must be what they feared occurring.
“And who is this Director fellow?” Augustus asked. “Some kind of possession? Curse?” He was not qualified for this kind of thing!
Viktoriya shook her head sadly. “The Director of Mental Resources… beyond being a focal entity for Tanya’s censors,” She noticed that he was already lost. “Censors are supposed to attack thoughts that don’t belong. Most relevantly, they attack mental intruders, anything from a mind that’s not theirs. It’s a natural defense against hostile telepaths.” Digression over, she continued. “He’s an old part of Tanya. Older than anything else that’s not a memory. The Psychonauts have been healing Tanya, and he… well, he’s next. He struck first, taking advantage of an opportunity to achieve something resembling victory against unbeatable odds…” She smiled. “It’s something that Tanya’s quite good at, you see. But… he’s only a part of Tanya. He’s scrambling, acting chaotically as he tries to figure out how to prevent the Psychonauts from…” She looked at the Argent’s peaceful face. “...doing that to him. She looked quite different before the Psychonauts’ assistance, it is difficult to say that they’re the same being, although they are.”
Augustus stared at the woman. Razputin managed to get his thoughts together before Augustus did. “So a part of Tanya’s mind is fighting everything else?” He asked. “Isn’t that.. Kind of.. weird?”
“Yes.” Viktoriya agreed. “I’m just a collection of fond memories, so I don’t really understand things like Tanya does, nor do I know everything she does. But this… this seems wrong.” She sighed. “The Director’s been grasping at everything he can, trying to… do something. I wish I knew. He wouldn’t dare touch this place, though. She might wake up. So you’ll be safe here. Do you know how to leave?”
Raputin answered proudly. “No!”
Viktoriya smiled. “A strong sensory shock will do the job. The Psychonauts use smelling salts.” She withdraws a pair of wooden containers from her pocket. “This should allow you to leave, although only once, obviously. It’s not real. Just pull it apart to open it and give it a sniff.”
Hmm… Augustus examines the wooden containers for a moment. Then he brings one to Razputin’s nose and breaks it open, causing the boy to vanish in a flash of light. “It works.” Augustus said with a smile, pocketing the other set of smelling salts.
“That’s for the best.” Agreed Viktoriya. She was a very responsible young lady, which pointed more towards his theory of her being Tanya’s mother. “Here, you’ll need help to deal with them.” She brought out a brilliant golden… pocket watch? There was a less impressive-looking device on her collar, as well as on the collar of Tan- err… The Argent. “Here, this will help you understand your telekinesis. The more violent skills… they’re locked away still, but this one will help you in subtler ways.” She held it out for him.
Well, he’s trusted the mom-ery this far. He clutched the golden orb, and it replenished his strength entirely, and expanded it to. But more importantly, it showed him… how to fly. There was a lot more math involved in flying than he thought there would be. But in addition to mathematics far beyond his education (it was high school level math bare minimum), it unlocked whole new worlds of acrobatics to him, as weight and momentum were merely suggestions in the face of his psychic power.
He was unto an acrobatic god, with the greatest dream of man within his grasp! No, wait. That’s the madness speaking. He really shouldn’t have learned more about psychic powers. Augustus slapped himself to shake off the insanity. “Thank you.” He said instead, politely.
“You’ll need all the help you can get.” She replied. “My only advice is to explain the essence of a Psychonaut. You’re not here to fix Tanya.”
Augustus raised his eyebrow. “I believe I am.”
Viktoriya shook her head emphatically. “You can’t. You would only break something if you tried. Psychonauts give people the strength to fight their own demons. Remember that. Fight the Director, weaken him… But don’t you dare try to finish him off yourself. That kind of damage…” She looked back at The Argent. “Be grateful that she ran, rather than the alternative. Think of Razputin, and how he’s still in the blast radius.”
Normally, Augustus would threaten anyone who said such a thing right back… but her tone… “Very well.” He agreed.
“Now, the one thing the Director’s done that I actually understand is the creation of a new mental subrealm. It’s the building that has the train-filled crevice surrounding it. I don’t know what he made it from, or how, but it’s where he’s spent the most time. If he’s not at the top, just start smashing things. He’ll show up.”
Augustus nodded and started to leave. “Oh, one more thing.” Viktoriya added. “Whatever he’s doing in there will likely be very relevant. Be sure to take in the sights, although don’t take things too literally.”
Being psychic sucked. “Very well.” He started running back through the fetid trench.
Comments
Dragonin
Bias is especially strong when projecting your own insecurities, makes sense.
Kevin Curry
Yeah, one of the big reasons Augustus thinks so badly of psychics is that he's constantly tempted to misuse his own psychic abilities.
Chris Larson
Not her mom but I can see why he would think that. Also damn he really be feeling bad about getting any psychic power.
