Kevin Curry
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Psychoprotective 23
🕑 Added 2023-03-20 14:01:00 +0000 UTCOne thing that was apparent, after a few days of circus life, was that something always needed fixing. Nona, the grandmother (the term was Italian, which made sense given that she wasn’t a grandmother until Donatella, who was Italian, came into the picture), spent the majority of her time doing one of three things: cooking, sleeping, and sewing.
Tanya was still doing a little bit of everything, which was good for finding the comparative advantage of any given worker. Hopefully, she’ll be able to take a look at the books soon. Even if they were likely rather simplistic compared to corporate balance sheets, it would allow her to more easily discern the circus’ business needs, and thus increase her value as an employee by fulfilling them.
After all, while she had plenty of ideas, she wouldn’t want to come across as arrogant by presenting common sense plans that they were already implementing. It was a maxim that she stood by during her second life, although she was familiar enough with military history that it was easy enough to turn to ‘new insights’. It would be less suspicious if she asked a bunch of questions before proposing changes, anyway.
“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Nona asked as Tanya finished the mend. It was one of Razputin’s jumpers, something he performs in. Nona was adjusting the size of one of Dion’s older clothes, a much more complicated task. After teaching Tanya how to properly stitch a hole closed, Tanya was left to perform the simple tasks while Nona took on the harder ones.
“Only buttons, two or three times.” Tanya clarified. “Never tears.” She always replaced clothes that got torn in her first life, and in her second? She probably would have been forced to learn how to sew by the nuns eventually, but she joined the military before they got insistent. The army didn’t tell officers to sew. There were a few times where Tanya probably should have learned on the Eastern front, but Visha always insisted on handling it herself if Tanya ever needed something small done. There was always something else Tanya could do, so she never contested Visha’s domestic primacy.
“Well, you’re a natural.” Nona complimented. “You’ll make a good mother, someday.” Tanya resisted the impulse to shudder. That was something she won’t be doing. Nona frowned sadly. “Well, nevermind that. Here, if you’ve done buttons before, show me what you’ve got. Don’t let Gussie see you do those parlor tricks, though.” She added as she passed Tanya a pair of overalls and the tin full of buttons, needles, and thread. Was that her nickname for Augustus? Also, she must have noticed Tanya’s barrier. “He’s a good family man… but he’s a bit unreasonable about the psychic powers thing.”
“Well, that curse does seem rather inconvenient.” Tanya demurred. “Who would do such a thing? How?”
“I don’t know for sure.” Nona said, looking upwards in thought. “But I think it was Aunt Ophelia. She never did like Lazarus and his family.” She rolled her eyes. “She was jealous because their psychic powers were flashy.”
What? Clearly, the curse of Galochio was a more complex tale than Augustus’ storytime retelling. Which tracked. “Who’s Lazarus?” She began.
“Oh, my husband.” Nona elaborated. “Before he died at the Deluge, of course. My maiden name was Galochio, you know.” She cackled. Wait, why was that laugh… familiar? She’s never heard the woman laugh before. “Aunt Ophelia had the subtler sort of power, she could maybe have cast a curse. I don’t really understand how it works. I’m not psychic, that was my sister.”
Tanya hummed as she finished sewing the button, deftly cutting the thread down to size with a telekinetic cut instead of reaching for the scissors. “Motive and means.” She said, summarizing Nona’s deduction.
“Yes, that.” Nona agreed. “I didn’t even know about the curse until Gussie and that handsome man who found him for me told me about it. But after that day, the…” She giggled. Where did she hear that before? “Hand of Golochio…” She said the name of it in a dramatic tone, mocking her son. “Appeared every time a member of the family drew near the water. So they need to STAY AWAY FROM THE WATER!” She shouted, turning towards the creek the circus was near as she finished.
Faintly, in the distance, Tanya picked up Dion shouting “How does she know?”
“Well, this is done.” Nona declared, at around the time Tanya finished fixing the last button. “That’s it for this week. Thank you Elya.” As if on cue, another member of the circus, a fourteen year old boy by the name of Ajax, ran to Nona as she packed up the sewing kit.
“Miss Aquato!” He said, gasping from his run. “Stampy tore one of the tents! We need your help to get it ready before tomorrow.” Stampy was one of the elephants. Ajax primarily worked with them, mostly shoveling shit. He didn’t really have any skills beyond a strong back and stomach.
“Oh? Well, we better hustle then, Elya.” Nona tittered. “Come, help me up.”
Within minutes, Tanya had gotten the grandmother to a secluded part of the circus, where the other carnies had prepared the torn tent for Nona’s skills. Unlike their clothes, it was important that the pieces of the tent are lined up precisely, and that the mend was difficult to see with the naked eye. Thus, calling the most skilled seamstress in the circus for the job.
After examining the damage, Nona snapped her fingers before pointing to a few people. “You, make sure Gussie doesn’t come by. You, go help him.” After sending a few more people away, she looked at each concerned-looking carney’s faces. “Okay, if we want this done fast, we’re getting this done quietly, okay?” She said that last word in Grulovian, one of the few words Tanya knew from when she learned small amounts of Dacian. Pretty much just enough to be able to shout warnings over the radio as mandated by the laws of war… and to put that new spin on the old joke about what to do if England invades with a land army. The carnies all flashed ‘okay’ signs or mimed zipping their lips. “Okay, Elya, I’ll need you to grab the tent…” She took a yardstick and pointed to two places that were about seven feet apart. “Here and here. Just lift it up and keep it steady.”
Tanya’s heart quickened as she realized what Nona was asking. Still, she was using opsec, so… Tanya lifted her hands and blue hands of telekinesis gripped the tent at the designated locations and lifted the tent slowly.
“Yes, keep going, keep going… stop.” Nona said. “Now…” She adjusted the flap slightly, occasionally requesting that Tanya adjust the fabric she gripped. She reached out towards the already-threaded heavy duty needle, but after a second grasped her hand futilely. Looking at the needle, puzzled, she sighed. “I’m sorry Elya, I thought that was closer. Can you fetch the needle for me?”
Another carny quickly ran the needle to the seamstress without Tanya having to do anything. After a few more adjustments and two additional telekinetic hands, Nona got things set up so that she blitzed through the actual needlework, her hands deftly using the thick thread to repair the damage with several hundred stitches over about an hour. It was an impressive feat. Tanya was surprised the woman’s old bones could handle that workload, but she doesn’t have much experience with the abilities of the elderly, so perhaps Tanya was just underestimating the old woman.
“Lay it down now, Elya.” Nona instructed. Tanya set the tent down, and Nona clapped, urging the carnies that remained to go back and set the tent back up. The seam was visible, if Tanya looked for it, but at a distance it was probably indistinguishable. The tents weren’t exactly well-lit or closely observed. “Now, help me to my chair. I need a sit down after that.” Tanya put the old woman’s hand in her own, and focused on Levitation to lighten both of them, halving the weight of their own bodies. “Oh, this is a good trick, Elya. Very clever.” With the burden on her old bones reduced, they made good time back to the area the Aquatos claimed as their own.
Tanya made sure to smile when she thanked Donatella for the food; some kind of noodle stew with meat that she named in Italian, Tanya didn’t quite catch the name. This was good. The circus was nice. She was camouflaged from being detected by the Psychonauts, which was good. She needed to stay away from the Psychonauts. She needed to conceal her psychic powers, but if she were too casual about it it would compromise her stealth anyway. Without it, Augustus’ anti-psychic grudge would help deflect attention.
Most importantly, she was far away from anyone dangerous enough to be worth fearing, and anyone that was connected to Being X. Even with the Type 95’s influence subdued, locked away until genuinely needed, there was some comfort to be had in the knowledge that there was nothing in the area powerful enough for Tanya to be unable to kill.
Mom tried to access her mind again, her knocking on the mental barrier becoming… rather irregular. It wasn’t Morse code, just… desperate? She’s been trying at least once a day, but it had been falling off recently. Tanya was beginning to think she wouldn’t try today.
It was distressing, to have someone, even if it was just Mom, try so insistently to breach her mental defenses. She never tried to outright break in, using force… What little Mom had explained about how long-distance astral projection works made Tanya think that if she tried, she’d break whatever connection allowed her to politely request access.
But Tanya had no choice in the matter. In order to protect them from Being X, she couldn’t be seen to care about Mom’s fate. Also, she needs to stay away from the Psychonauts.
“What is that racket?” Asked Augustus.
“I knew I was hearing something!” Razputin declared.
Donatella and Dion seemed confused at the exchange, but Frazie groaned. “It’s nothing. You’re imagining things.” As she said this, her eyes glanced towards Tanya.
“I thought it was just that other new kid bumping uglies with his girlfriend.” Nona said, before releasing a puerile giggle. Dirty old woman…
Wait. That giggle. She knows that giggle. Alarm bells rang in Tanya’s head as the secret she learned in Ford Cruller’s head, previously fuzzy in a way that such recent memories shouldn’t be, flashed through her memory,. That boy… looked an awful lot like Augustus. It couldn’t be. She’s not a ‘Mux’. But… maiden name. Lucrecia was married, her husband died.
Noticing that everyone had started looking at her, Tanya schooled her expression. “Changing the topic:” She said shamelessly. “Nona, it occurs to me that I don’t know your given name. What is it?” Please don’t be Lucy, please don’t be Lucy.
“Oh?” Nona said, confused. After a moment, she nodded, acquiescing to Tanya’s request for a change in topic. “It’s…” She seemed to need a second to remember her own name. How long has it been since she used it? “Marona. Marona Aquato.” Oh, that was a relief.
Wait. The Tree! FC + [s]LM[/s] MA. Every little thing about Ford’s conspiracy slid into place, gathered from the scraps in Ford’s fractured mind. Lucrecia Mux hiding as Marona Aquato. Her sister “was the psychic”. That corpse from Ford’s mind, that glasses-wearing Grulovian woman was Marona, the sister of Lucrecia!
But that means… that Maligula was right here. Her murderous will manifested in the Hand of Galochio. The Hand of Maligula.
“Elya?” Asked Augustus, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He reached out.
Tanya screamed, scrambling backwards as her safe haven was ruined, revealed to be one of the most dangerous places to be on the entire planet. This was just her luck! Did Being X plan this? Was that nonsense about acting through Mary a bluff? Could he see her all along? The instant Mary found out about her? Or prayed to him about it?
[s]“Calm down child.”[/s] “Silence!” [s]Nona[/s] Maligula [s]said softly[/s] demanded. [s]”It is safe here.”[/s]
Tanya bolted, going in whatever direction was away from this world’s equivalent of the Devil of the Rhine. She was disarmed! Helpless! Even if she brought it out and fought, the Psychonauts would notice and investigate! She needs to [i][b]STAY AWAY FROM THE PSYCHONAUTS![/b][/i]
Turning her attention to wherever she was going, Tanya realized that she had made a mistake. The creek! She took flight, in the hopes of avoiding the Hand of Maligula, but a hand arose, large enough to squeeze her between two fingers, and attempted to seize Tanya.
Panicking, Tanya did the only thing she could think of to survive the elemental wrath of what was definitely Being X’s catspaw. She curled up into a ball and created the most durable shield she could muster, shutting out every possible angle of attack.
From the feeling of inertia, and… some vague sense she couldn’t describe in any way that wasn’t impossible, the Hand of Maligula had seized her and started to shake, eventually throwing her to the ground, which was mitigated by the soft mud.
She needed to escape. She needed to stay in her shield. She needed to stay away from the Psychonauts. She needed… oh no. She was buried alive. She can’t oxygenate herself with psychic powers like she could with magic!
With no other choice, Tanya dropped her shield, psychically reinforcing herself to swim out of the meter of mud that she was embedded in. She had to get away. She had to get away. She had to stay away from the Psychonauts. She had to go somewhere safe.
Nowhere is safe from Being X.
Faintly, she heard something from a voice she thought she had finally silenced. “You incompetent child!” He said. A wave of nausea washed over her as she realized that was her own thoughts. “I’ll take things from here. Honestly, you’re a mess.”
“...I want Mom.” Were Tanya’s last thoughts before she was swallowed once more in mindless terror.
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[Augustus Aquato, Ringmaster of the Aquato’s Flying Circus]
Tanya, or well, “Elya”, was a very strange child, even by the standards of the circus. Her body language constantly signaled fear, as if she was terrified of literally everything. Or possibly of something at all times. But her actual actions were frequently opposed to that impression, unbothered by intensive physical labor, bad smells, Mother’s mediocre cooking… Nothing specific ever seemed to bother her, but at the same time, she was always bothered.
She would not be Augustus’ first runaway child worker, nor would she be the last. Every time, he always made sure to check the missing persons list for anyone who fit the bill. This one… it was a doozy.
Tanya Dosva. A runaway psychic who, according to the poster, was hypnotized to run away from home and will resist any attempt to force her. It instructed anyone who saw her to merely report it to the Psychonauts. Further, it warned against threatening her in any way. It didn’t… explicitly say that Tanya was extremely dangerous if provoked, but Augustus got that impression from the warning about threatening her.
She was good at disguise and acting, too. She had dyed her hair and gotten it cut, and did remember to dye her eyebrows, but had neglected her eyelashes, which weren’t darkened at all. Not a particularly easy thing to spot, but he was looking for it.
The big thing, of course, was the fact that he couldn’t read her mind. He could occasionally pick out an emotion, or some basic thought she didn’t bother hiding, but Augustus took his family’s safety very seriously. Psychics were bad news, spiteful folk who had power that couldn’t be countered except by other psychics.
But Tanya… She was the victim of psychic tampering, despite being a psychic herself. Despite her shields, her defenses… Fear was written into her soul just as deeply as the Hand of Golochio was in his family.
But he didn’t expect something as simple as his mother’s laugh and her given name to cause such a… severe reaction. Whatever comfort she had taken from his family, it had vanished within seconds, her terror turned towards the sixty-one year old woman. Why?
It didn’t really matter. What was concerning was the Hand of Galochio deciding to go after her, with a more powerful manifestation than had ever been seen before. The curse did affect Donatella, but why Tanya? Did the curse trigger on her feeling like she was part of the family? That didn’t happen before… She didn’t even share her real name.
After she literally dug herself out of the mud on the other side of the creek, the Hand of Maligula declined to attempt to kill her again. Her expression had changed, deathly serious now. She flew away, and Augustus pursued.
It took only seconds for Tanya to shout in anger. “No! How did they… Fuck!” It was kind of amusing to hear Tanya’s high-pitched voice curse, but she launched a blast of psychokinetic energy in Augustus’ direction before ducking into the woods.
The blast created an impressively large crater in the ground, but it would take more than one shot to hit an Aquato. When he caught up to the girl, she was meditating on top of a stump, an angry expression locked on her face.
Augustus took his family’s safety very seriously. One of the things he did was erect defenses in their minds, allowing them to better resist the telepathy of psychics. The big thing that made it take so long for him to confirm that Tanya was herself psychic rather than having something similar was the fact that she never tripped any of those defenses. He’d be able to tell if she did. In order to do this… He needed to enter their minds. As small as the amount of time Tanya spent with his family, he felt for her. So, he’ll do his best to fix the damage that psychics have inflicted upon this little girl.
He placed his hand on Tanya’s forehead and focused his psychic powers. He pictured himself flowing through his arm and into her head, and closed his eyes.
When he opened them… Chaos.
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Augustus wasn’t in the habit of seriously examining the minds of his family as he helped them. His mother had a flea circus in her mind, Donatella had a theater, and his children all had various permutations of the circus when he entered their heads.
Tanya… was completely different. The sky had giant cracks, a dull gold color breaking up the otherwise uniform dull red color. Massive skyscrapers dominated the area, colorful lights and advertisements plastered everywhere. He didn’t recognize the architecture, but given how much Asian writing was there… perhaps Tokyo or Beijing? That language was most prominent, but there were others too. From what he could tell, every single written word said the exact same thing: “Stay away from the Psychonauts.”
…He wasn’t an expert, but that looked like hypnosis to him. It also handily explained her reaction to seeing them and her general anxiety. The Psychonauts had a global reach, after all.
In the distance, explosions sounded out, along with a lot of shouting. Well, he has no idea what he’s doing, so he better check that out.
The battle was between two sides. On one, an army of those little suit-wearing gremlins that always show up if he lingers too long inside a mind, plus a bunch of bulky ones wearing knuckle dusters, and one that actually looked relatively normal, although he still held his large stamp in a stance that was outright menacing. On the other, two normal looking people, clearly other psychics. Probably Psychonauts, even.
The Psychonauts, much like Agent Gilbert and Agent Sullivan, were a man-woman pair. Unlike them, they didn’t wear the uniform jumpsuit of the agency, but instead more ordinary clothing. The woman was dressed in a cheery multi-colored dress, and the man in an ordinary suit with a lab coat thrown on over it.
The army was winning. “Sasha!” the woman shouted. “I’ll distract them, you go find out where Tanya is!” She split her body into three, each one taking on one of the colors of her dress.
The commander of the army laughed at that. “No.” He said, leaping across the distance in an eyeblink and kicking the head off of the red one. “None of that.” He lashed out with his stamp, exploding the yellow one. An impression was left behind in the air for a second or two afterwards, showing what the stamp depicted: DANGER, in red ink. That was strange, the others usually had a ‘no’ symbol.
“What are you?” The woman shouted, frustrated and clearly exhausted.
“Alive.” Was the being’s reply, slamming his stamp on her forehead and banishing her from Tanya’s mind.
The male agent was putting up a good fight against the numbers that were arrayed against him, but the instant the greater entity arrived, the agent was quickly banished as well. “Finally.” The entity said. “That should buy enough time to re-erect the barrier… Why did it fall?” He turned his face to Augustus. His face was stern, a real-looking asian businessman surrounded by the somewhat caricatured beings that surrounded him. “Oh. You. So you did know you were one of those psychics you hate.” Augustus winced. Yeah, that was fair. “I thought it ironic, but you’re just a hypocrite. Typical.” The being adjusted his suit, his stamp vanishing the instant he let go of it. “You’ve surprised me, and I don’t like surprises.” He snapped his fingers, and the army of psychic defenses summoned doors and leapt into them, escaping the battlefield.
Why wasn’t he trying to kick Augustus out? He coughed. “Well, when I came to inspect Elya’s mind, I didn’t know what to expect.” He gestured to his surroundings. “This wasn’t it, that’s for sure.” He glanced at where the other intruders were. “Who were they, anyway?”
The being approached Augustus, looming over him. “...They were Psychonauts. As you can imagine…” He gestured to the surroundings, the repeated message of ‘stay away from the Psychonauts’ making his point clear. “...they had to go.”
Augustus’ eyes narrow. “Did you do this?”
The being chuckled. “Of course not. I’m just doing my job: keeping the brat safe.” He wasn’t doing a very good job, then.
“How does running away from my mother lead to that?” Augustus asked nervously.
He grinned. “Now that is a question with a very valuable answer to you.” He chuckled. “I wonder if your relationship with your family would even survive that secret…” Secret? The being held out his hand. “I’ll make you a deal: We’re both men of business, so I’ll get straight to the point: You leave, and forget you ever met the brat. If you do… I’ll tell you the secret that underpins your entire life, that people can and will kill to protect.”
What kind of- he’s just a circus acrobat! His mother is just an old woman whose greatest claim to fame is her sewing skills! Sure, he was a psychic acrobat, but that didn’t mean he was important enough for something like this.
Wait. Why was he trying to bargain? He destroyed those psychonauts, why doesn’t he just turn that army on Augustus? Is he… bluffing?
Augustus puffed up his chest and glared at the suit. This wasn’t a board room; he had the advantage, even if he didn’t know why. “No.” He responded. “If it means leaving her to suffer under you, I don’t want to know whatever stupid secret you’ve found.” As his resolve hardened with his words, he felt his fists and body firm up, his psychic powers eagerly reinforcing his mental body.
The condescending smirk turned into a stormy glare. “Are you sure? This is your last chance. I am the Director of Mental Resources, the only reason you stand there in peace is because I allow it. It’s a life-changing secret for you. Or I could unleash a tidal wave of censors upon you, and then, when you’re insensate, rip your heart out with my bare hands.” To emphasize his point, one of the windows turned into a television screen, showing a small hand coated in telekinetic knives digging into the chest of a teenage girl wearing some kind of jumpsuit, blood gushing before the scene flickered away. Was Tanya a murderer?
Still, Augustus was not going to be swayed by some petty intimidation. Even if his implications make him think that maybe he should learn about it. “I like my life.” He declared. “Whatever you have to say, it’s not worth the life of that scared girl.” Suddenly, it hit Augustus as to what the difference was between the Psychonauts and him: he was physically there. Augustus was used to being careful while entering minds, even if this was the first time he entered a truly hostile one. If he pulled out, he would have access to Tanya’s physical body.
…While that statement made him out to be some kind of villain, the truth was that the Director was in Tanya’s head too, and he may not be able to leave. The Director hummed, searching for weakness. “Very well.” He said, his stamp manifesting in his hand; the DANGER warning bright red with dripping ink that burst into flames a split second after separating from the stamp.
He didn’t get a chance to use it, because Augustus punched him in the face before he could, with all of his considerable, psychic power backed, strength. If he did this in reality, the man’s head would cause shrapnel wounds behind him with the shards of his skull. Or so he assumed, he could fell medium-sized trees with it at least.
The Director flew backwards, going through a billboard that said ‘stay away from the psychonauts’ into one of the skyscrapers, which promptly collapsed inward on top of him. Augustus hoped that wasn’t important…
“GO DAD!” Razputin cheered. Wait, what? Oh no. “You’re a psychic?” He said, amazed.
Well, shit. “Yes, Razputin.” He’s going to have to train him in his psychic abilities now, isn’t he? It’s going to be such a massive pain to stop him from going mad with power.
…Or he could suppress his memories of this. That sounds like it would work… NO! That's the madness speaking, the thing you’ve fought against for so long. “Leave. This is dangerous.”
Suddenly, doors opened up everywhere, and those caricatures started spilling out of them. What did the Director call them? Censors?
“Time to kick some butt!” Raz declared, manifesting giant telekinetic hands to fight with.
…From the mouths of babes, he’s right.
Comments
Kevin Curry
Good catch. Will fix.
saganatsu
After she literally dug herself out of the mud on the other side of the creek, the Hand of Maligula declined to attempt to kill her again. Her expression had changed, deathly serious now. She flew away, and Augustus pursued. -> this is from Augustus's perspective, and he refers to it as the Hand of Golochio just a few lines before. how does he think of it? and does he know about maligula?
Chris Larson
Well this is a swerve in Raz's life. Probably the same for his sister.
