Chapter Text

ONE

Panel 1: HIGH ANGLE: MARCUS; an older, worn man (think Brad Pitt from Se7vn), investigative journalist, is sitting alone in a motel room late at night. He works by the light of a desk lamp. Papers and other documents are scattered across the table, along with a camera.

Camera ref: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7c/NikonFAblkfrt35f2.jpg

1. NARRATION: Austin, 1986.

Panel 2: CLOSEUP: Marcus is writing notes inside a journal.

NO COPY

Panel 3: PULL OUT: An unknown voice calls out to Marcus, interrupting his work.

2. UNKNOWN VOICE (OFF): Another late night, Marcus?

Panel 4: Marcus stops, sighs & places his left fingertips on his temples, irritated at the interruption.

3. MARCUS: I’ve been doing this long before I came here.

Panel 5: Marcus begins to get up from the desk chair and turns around.

4. MARCUS: In fact, I-

Panel 6: Marcus stops in place, visibly confused.

NO COPY

Panel 7: CUTAWAY, MEDIUM: A tall man wearing a coyote mask and a cowboy outfit is standing in the middle of the room. The mask obscures his face, with shadows hiding where his eyes should be.

5. MARCUS (OFF): What-

6. MARCUS (OFF) : Who the hell are you?

TWO

Panel 1: The masked man stands in place, staring at Marcus. Marcus is suspicious of the sudden guest.

1. MARCUS: Are you with those goddamn creeps?

Panel 2: The masked man shrugs at the question-

Panel 3: -and walks over to the table.

2. MASKED MAN: No.

3. MASKED MAN: But who I am is not important.

Panel 4: CLOSEUP: Newspaper articles on disappearances and gang activity in the Austin area, and Marcus’s own notes on his investigation litter the table. On top of the mess is a vague pencil scribble of Leatherface and Drayton, drawn from memory.

4. MASKED MAN (OFF): What is important

5. MASKED MAN (OFF): is what you've gotten yourself into.

Panel 5: Marcus groans, tired and confused.

6. MARCUS: Ugh...

Panel 6: The masked man and Marcus walk out onto the balcony of the motel room.

NO COPY

THREE

Panel 1: Marcus and the masked man are standing on the balcony of Marcus’s motel room. Ahead of them, the glow of Austin’s lights pierces through the night. Not many stars are in the sky - either an overcast night or from light pollution. Marcus pulls out a matchbook and a box of cigarettes from the pocket of his pants.

NO COPY

Panel 2: CLOSEUP: He strikes a match-

1. SFX: fwip!

Panel 3: -lights the cigarette-

NO COPY

Panel 4: PULL OUT: -and puts it to his lips.

2. MARCUS: I don’t know who the hell you think you are.

Panel 5: Marcus pulls the cigarette away from his lips and exhales, and the smoke dissipates into the air.

3. SFX: pssshhh…

Panel 6: MEDIUM, TWO SHOT: Marcus leans on the balcony and turns in place to better face the masked man.

4. MARCUS: But I ain't playing hero.

5. MARCUS: I watch, record and sell what’s there.

Panel 7: Marcus’s face becomes more intense, underlining his point.

6. MARCUS: I’m not involved.

FOUR

Panel 1: The masked man turns his head to look back at Marcus.

1. MASKED MAN: Not involved?

2. MASKED MAN: People have died for much less.

Panel 2: His head tilts to one side as he continues to talk.

3. MASKED MAN: You know how the saying goes…

4. MASKED MAN: “Curiosity killed the cat.”

Panel 3: Marcus becomes annoyed at his response.

5. MARCUS: So what’s your deal then, fox-man?

Panel 4: The masked man stares back at Marcus, his mask expressionless.

NO COPY

Panel 5: Marcus prodes again, trying to get some sort of response.

6. MARCUS: Hm?

7. MARCUS: The fuck you trying to say?

FIVE

Panel 1: Marcus turns away to stare back into the night lights, irritated by the lack of response.

NO COPY

Panel 2: The masked man leaves him with a cryptic warning.

2. MASKED MAN (OFF): I’m saying you should think of yourself as a unlucky bastard.

Panel 3: Marcus turns to reply to the masked man…

NO COPY

Panel 4: CUTAWAY: …and the masked man has vanished without a trace.

NO COPY

Panel 5: PULL OUT: Marcus is now alone on the balcony.

NO COPY

SIX

Panel 1: CLOSEUP: Marcus looks surprised at the masked man’s sudden disappearance.

NO COPY

Panel 2: He closes his eyes and grimaces, wondering if that just really happened-

NO COPY

Panel 3:  -opens his eyes, and glances back at the view.

1. MARCUS: Sigh…

Panel 4: MEDIUM: Marcus gazes at Austin from the balcony.

NO COPY

Panel 5: LARGE PANEL, WIDE: He walks back inside, and flicks the cigarette off the balcony. The art / building fades into video static, with the exception of the cigarette as it falls into the colorful void.

NO COPY

SEVEN

FULL PAGE: The logo for QUIXOTIC ENTERTAINMENT is displayed on a CRT screen.

NO COPY

Chapter Text

Despite the sun coming up at six o-clock in the morning this time of day, Loboto and Milla are still have sleep lingering in the corner of their eyes. They are sitting in the cast chairs while the crew scrambles around them, putting together the next scene. Loboto’s eyes follow the workers rushing to and fro. Milla’s half-closed eyes watch the floor, wondering when that coffee is going to kick in. A loud sigh escapes from Loboto, causing Milla to lift her head.

“Caligosto, darling?”

“Just… look at him!”

Loboto motions his head to the doorway of one of the trailers. Milla turns his head to see what has Loboto so miffed. Posted above the trailer door is a white sign. Printed in large, bold black letters: NO DRINKING, NO EATING, NO SMOKING ON SET. Sasha is beneath the sign, leaning on the frame of the doorway. In one hand, he is sipping a fresh cup of coffee. In the other hand is a croissant. Finally, his morning cigarette is floating by his head, his hands occupied with breakfast. Sasha turns his head slightly to focus his attention on the pair looking at him. He raises an eyebrow, and takes a sip from his coffee.

None of the children saw Loboto before their scene with him. They ate separately, did makeup in separate rooms, and waited in separate areas. Tim even specified to the script editors to redact most information about Loboto in the children’s copies of the scripts. The only kid that did know Loboto’s appearance and role was his son Bobby. During lunchtime, before their scenes with Loboto, the children would speculate who Loboto was. Bobby was more than happy to feed them misinformation and red herrings. A mean old witch! A monster from the woods! An alien from another world! As the day when they would get to film their scenes with him approached, their voices grew louder and louder. Several times, Milla had to tell the children to calm down. Sasha could feel the oncoming headaches during lunctime, while Loboto snickered to himself.

Finally, the first day came. The children were all together in the waiting room except Razputin; he was always on set. A crew member walked into the room, clipboard in hand. “Lili, Dogen, on set.” Lili scrambled to the crew member, excited, while Dogen dragged his feet a little bit. 

“Relax, Dogen.” Dogen turned from the doorway to face Bobby. “I wouldn’t worry.” Dogen could see a smile flickering on Bobby’s face, and Bobby offered him a quick wink. Dogen racked his brain to find something to say to Bobby, but couldn’t muster anything up. The crew member closed the door behind them, and they began to walk towards the set. “Don’t pay attention to him,” Lili remarked.

Dogen screamed at the top of his lungs. Milla, who had fallen asleep in her chair, was wide awake in a fraction of a second. Crew members jumped in their seats. The scream reached the waiting room, and all the children swung their heads in the direction of the scream. The cameraman glanced at Tim; Tim waved at him to keep rolling. Once cut! rang out on set, there was a brief conversation.

“Are we keeping it?”

“We’re keeping it!”

In the waiting room, the crew member with the clipboard came back in again. They looked over the pairs of eyes all staring at them.

“Who’s next?”

Chapter Text

"Are you sure you're feeling alright, man?"

Marcus looked over from the driver's seat. Sitting next to him was Ken, his partner for the evening. They were munching on hot dogs from the gas station their truck was parked next to. Ken took another bite from his hot dog, not bothering to look at Marcus. The food dripped with grease, but it was a price to pay for only two dollars and peace of mind. This was thier checkpoint before the mission, but Ken was shifting in his seat well before they arrived here. Marcus figured some food would help take Ken's mind off things. At the very least, he would calm down a bit with a full stomach. Ken swallowed his last bite, and sighed.

"Look around you!"

"What are you getting at?"

"It's pitch black, we're not going to be able to call for backup, and we're in the middle of nowhere!"

"Ken, you've done missions like this before without calling for backup. And you got me."

Ken chuckled.

"Thanks Marcus. But..."

"But what?"

Ken paused. He looked outside, past the parking lot of the gas station to the lonely forest road that winded through the trees. Only one other vehicle had drove past them down the road in the last hour, and it drove by quickly.

"Something feels wrong. Really wrong."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you."

"Let's just get this over with."

Marcus wrapped the rest of his hot dog up in the paper tray it came in, and tossed it into the trash bag of the truck. He wasn't feeling very hungry anymore.

Chapter Text

When Coach Oleander started volunteering at Whispering Rock Summer Camp, he reopened many of the old trails. He offered words of encouragement to the campers, which fell on deaf ears. Moss and vines had crept onto the trails, making the thin paths smaller year after year. Around the campfire, the children would exchange stories of lake monsters, ghosts, and monsters encountered deep on the trails. A few might go up to the trailhead sign and dare each other to go down the beaten path, but no one ever took a step onto the trail. Well, that is, until Bobby and Chloe.

Chloe was looking through her telescope up into the night sky. Compared to where her human host family lived, out here, she could see all the stars in the sky and more. Perhaps if she looked hard enough and adjusted her telescope right, she would be able to see home. As she gazed, another star emerged from the sky in her lens. It grew larger, and soon lost it's place among the crowd. The star fell from the sky and disappeared behind the trees, leaving behind a short-lived streak. Moments later, there was a loud boom. Below Chloe's perch, a clamor rose from below.

"Meteor!!"

Chloe packed up her telescope. She climbed down the ladder as fast as her little legs would let her. Among her peers scattered about was Bobby. She scurried up behind him with a spring in her step, and gave him a tip-tap on the shoulder.

"Who cares about a stupid- Chloe?" He jumped a bit, and turned around.

"We're going to the meteorite site!"

"Wait!" Elton piped up. "I-Isn't that down the old trail?"

"Yes." Chloe spoke up before Bobby could help himself. Even if he could, any response he was cooking up had disappeared like a bubble.

"Are you coming with us?" Chloe asked Elton.

"No!!," he replied.

All Chloe offered in response to Elton was a momentary blink. She took Bobby's hand, and the pair took off for the trailhead.

After a while of trudging through the dark with only a flashlight to guide them, Chloe and Bobby came across the crash site. There was a large crater in the soil, filled with torn branches and leaves. In the center of the crater was the meteorite; a white lump the size of a soccer ball. Chloe stepped over the rim into the crater, with Bobby following close behind.

"It's not a meteorite."

"What do you mean, it's not a meteorite?"

"It's a package." They approached the object. There were a system of lines and circles carved into the smooth white surface. Chloe began to feel across it's surface with her fingers.  "Sometimes, my friends send me small gifts." She followed the lines, until she found what she was looking for; a latch. She gave it a gentle tap, and the package responded with a high-pitched ding! The two stepped back, the package glowed, and it unfolded like a lotus to reveal...

"Tapes?"

Inside the package was a collection of worn black VHS tapes. Scrawled on each label in Sharpie were titles which Bobby could sworn he'd seen on the back of his CDs. Highlights included 'Necro Culture Vulture'; 'Nwofka Skullboy'; 'Psycho Signal Jammer'. Atop the collection was a small gold disc, with a series of arcane symbols etched in a sprial. Bobby had never seen symbols like those in his life, but Chloe began to read off the message without missing a beat.

Chapter Text

The sun had long since vanished beneath the trees, with only a weak, hazy glow left in the sky. Walking towards the boy's cabin in the cool night air was Bobby. His hair even more out of control from the day's events, and his eyelids were heavy. However, in the corner of his eye, he saw something scurrying. He stopped and turned towards the tree where he saw the movement.

On the trunk was a spider. Its body was half the size of his thumb, and it rested on the wood with long, spindly legs. Bobby looked to his left, to his right. Nobody was close by, or looking towards Bobby. He gave a grin to himself. Milla had assured the children on the first day that there were no poisonous spiders around camp, but that didn't mean that there were no spiders.

He cupped his right hand. With a finger from his left hand, he nudged the spider into his palm. The spider jolted and scurried in place at his poking, but didn't try to run back to the tree. Bobby hid it with his other hand, and then returned to heading towards the cabin.

When he poked his head through the door, a few of the more light sleepers greeted his presence with annoyed grunts and the shuffle of blankets. Bobby tiptoed through the darkness to his bunk. Before he climbed up the ladder though, there was one more thing to do. He lowered his hands, opened them up, and let the spider escape onto his bunkmate's bed. He headed up the ladder, buried himself under the blankets, and drifted off into a deep sleep.

The lucky winner to wake up the entire boy's cabin was Elton. By a stroke of luck, he was spared from having eight little limbs crawl across his skin. Instead, when he woke up to get a drink of water, the light of his flashlight revealed the spider resting on the ceiling. He let out a petrified screech, and dropped his flashlight. The other boys responded to his terror in turn with confused yelling.

"What the-"

"What's happening?"

"It's the lake monster!"

"What is it??"

"Please don't kill us!!"

Metallic clicks rang out. The shadows in the cabin turned into day with the orange-yellow light of flashlights. Like spotlights on a theater stage, they all swooped to illuminate the spider. The cacophony of confusion fell silent, as wide eyes stared at the spider, waiting for it to do something, anything. The spider stared back, and then ran a bit. Maloof jumped in his bed - he would have stood up if not for the risk of banging his head.

"That's it! Get out of my house!," Maloof cried.

Mikhal met his words by punching at the ceiling, trying to crush the spider below a translucent palm. The spider sprinted across the ceiling, dodging Mikhal's attacks as it danced.

A few of the campers screamed in terror. Raz joined the noise, with an irritated half-scream, half-groan. He held his head in his hands, the rude awakening and the noise beginning to make his head sway. On Raz's travels with his family, he had seen all sorts of bugs while sleeping - ones much bigger than this spider.

"No, hit it. Like, actually hit it," Raz said.

JT placed two fingers on his right temple, and stared down the spider. A bolt of light burst from his head, and hit the spider point-blank. A slight burn mark was scorched into the ceiling, but the spider still twitched and writhed about in a vain attempt to flee.

"It's not dead," Nils said.

Dogen held his head in his hands, and shrieked. Suddenly, the spider burst like a bubble. Hundreds of little red beads showered from the ceiling onto the floor, blankets, and into hair. Everyone screamed in sync.

"It gave birth!" Benny screamed.

The other campers joined in;

"It gave birth!!"

"Those are eggs!"

"Oh my God, it gave birth!!"

Chapter Text

A few of the campers eyed their new cabinmate with curiosity, or hostility, as they curled up under the covers for the night.

The new boy had unceremoniously fallen out of the trees while the campers were gathered around the campfire. When the camp counselors levitated him out of the bushes, he screamed and struggled like a bug, but didn't say a word. A few of the campers and Oleander tried to grill answers out of him. The boy answered their questions with silence, narrowing his wide eyes, and a grunt. His outfit consisted of long sleeves, a tunic, long pants, and a cloth hat. He would be sweating bullets this time of year. After campfire, the boy's idea of some fun before bedtime was taking a small sword and chopping up random undergrowth. Currently, the strange boy was passed out in his bunk, his face hidden under a fluffy mess of blonde hair.

Away from the cabins, in the camp lounge, Milla was chattering on the phone. "...yes, of course. Thank you." She hung up the phone, and turned to Sasha, who was having a late-night smoke.

"Did you get any information on the boy, Vodello?"

"I talked to his grandmother. She says his little sister disappeared a few days ago around here."

"Do you know what she might be talking about?"

"No."

"Strange. Did you get the boy's name?"

"His name is Link."

Chapter Text

Part 1

The dulled pitter-patter of rain from outside echoed through the underground laboratory. Sasha was pressing buttons and typing instructions into a dark, round computer screen. He was situated at his levitation desk, preparing the Brain Tumbler. While Raz waited, he stood up from his spot on the stairs onto his tiptoes. He squinted to peer at the giant mishmash of metal, wires, and lights hanging from the ceiling that was the Brain Tumbler. Even though he was here in Sasha’s lab two days ago, Raz didn’t take a good look at the machine. First, he had to get all his training done before his dad arrived to take him home. Then, he had to save his girlfriend, teachers, friends and the rest of the world from the conquest of a tiny army man and a dentist / brain surgeon / lunatic. Now though, Raz had a little bit of time. 

The Brain Tumbler hissed and whirred at each of Sasha’s commands. Different parts spun this way, that way, and Raz couldn’t predict which way they’d turn next. Sometimes, it interrupted itself with a thundering cachunk, cachunk, cachunk! Raz had only heard about machines like these in the books that he had read under the covers with a flashlight, after the rest of his family had gone to sleep. He would pour over the detailed illustrations and diagrams, unable to take his eyes away. The only thing that pulled him away was passing out with the book still open and the flashlight still on. But now that he was sitting in front of one of those machines in silence, trying to look directly at it was trying to stare into the sun. If it wasn’t for his pilot’s cap covering his ears and the light muffle they provided, Raz would have cupped his hands over his ears a long time ago. It felt like an eternity before the spinning stopped.

“Step up to the Brain Tumbler when you are ready to begin, Razputin.”

Sasha turned from his desk to face Raz. Raz hopped off his place on the stairs, and began to approach the machine. Compared to two days ago, there was a little less spring in his step, replaced by a bit of shaking. Raz turned towards Sasha and smiled, trying to, at the very least, keep his smile steady. Raz’s smile was met with silence from Sasha, not as much as a raised eyebrow. Despite the lack of response, Sasha’s demeanor hushed a stray thought lingering in the back of Raz’s mind. As he reached the machine, Raz allowed himself a deep breath. He leaned his head back against the glowing apparatus, slid down his goggles, and let his shoulders go slack.

Focus. I’ve done this before.

Sasha turned back to his desk, and typed a series of commands into the screen. A series of beeps echoed around Raz, and then a mechanical whirr began. It grew louder, and the machine began to rumble faster and faster. Raz felt the world around him beginning to spin back and forth… back and forth… back and forth… 

The world stopped spinning. Raz took a few moments; he didn’t want to run into the unknown on unsteady legs. As he regained his footing, he found himself back in the same place he had visited two days before. Surrounding him was a forest covered in thorns, blanketed in long shadows, lit only by the soft glow of wildflowers. He looked around this way, that way. The vines weaving through the trees around him had become longer and thicker, twisting around the trunks as they reached towards a starless sky. The path in front of him had become thinner as vines creeped onto it, beginning to reclaim it into the forest. The shadows had become longer and darker. The smell of rain floated through the branches, and a cold breeze shuffled the leaves about. For a brief moment, Raz wondered if mental worlds could have weather. He began to make his way forward on the path, keeping up a brisk pace while also taking care not to trip on the newfound growth. Sure, if he tripped, the thorns wouldn’t leave any wounds when he came out of the astral projection. But Raz’s nerves didn’t care if the sharp barbs tearing and biting into his skin were real or not.

Soon, the trees began to part into a clearing. The tower was still there, standing tall over Raz. This time though, there was no top with a flickering light for Raz to look at when he tilted his head back. Instead, the tower kept winding higher, higher, higher, until it vanished into the dark sky. In his family’s travels, Raz had been to bustling cities with enormous skyscrapers; this tower made those skyscrapers look like model toys. The tower had become much bigger as well. Before, there was only the laboratory at the very top to enter. Now, despite the laboratory being gone, the tower was big enough to go inside - from a single, lone door at the base.

Raz walked up to the door, and stopped. The door was twice his height, made up of worn steel. At his feet, in the tiny crack between the door and the ground, there was a long shadow. The shadow didn’t belong to anyone, or anything, else. When Raz’s eyes flickered down to the shadow, it stirred in place. Raz jumped in his own skin. The shadow scuttled back into the tower without a sound.

“Did you see that?”

“No. What did you see?” Sasha’s voice echoed in Raz’s ears.

“I… I’m not sure what the heck that was.”

Raz paused.

“I think it was a bug of some kind. It ran off before I could do anything.”

“Interesting. Insects are often representative of negative thoughts or feelings. Did you see where it went?”

“It went into the freaky tower. But now the tower’s really, uh… tall. Like it goes up forever.”

Raz felt a knot beginning to wind up and tie at the bottom of his stomach. He pushed back his thoughts, and gripped the handle of the door in front of him.  

“I’m going in.”

“Report any observations you see to me.” 

Sasha’s steady voice stopped Raz’s nerves from trembling like a guitar string. Raz pushed on the door with as much strength he could muster; being ten years old didn’t give him strength, but it did give him enthusiasm. The door screeched open on rusty hinges to reveal a hallway. Soft light mixed with long shadows, showing paint on the walls that was peeling and chipping away, and a cracked floor with tiles missing. The door tore apart cobwebs as it opened. A low, howling sigh rumbled from somewhere deep within the structure. Raz stepped inside, looking around. When he let go of the door, it closed behind him with a groan and a half-hearted slam. Raz took a mental note of his immediate surroundings and filed it away inside the back of his mind. Out of the many places he has gotten lost in, he didn’t want this place to be one of them.

“Now… where would I hide if I was a creepy little bug?”

As Raz proceeded further down the hallway, he narrowed his eyes. He stretched out his right hand to one of the walls to guide him down the hall, and up a set of stairs. Despite the patches of soft light scattered about, it was even harder to see in here than outside, and the forest outside had no sun, moon, or stars to speak of. The floor was slightly sticky, like walking on top of a spider’s web. His footsteps sent out long, lonely echoes that bounced between the walls. Bit by bit, details began to come out of the shadows as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. But the details coming out did not allow Raz to take his hand away from the wall. He stopped.

Maybe I could use pyrokinesis… would make it a lot easier to see in here. But what can I use?

Raz took off his backpack. He opened it up, and with his left hand, began to paw through the contents. Smelling Salts… no, as bad as they smelled, he couldn’t lose them! True Psychic Tales #57… he’s still not getting rid of it, even though he’s read it back to back twenty times and knows every page by heart. Raz let out a grunt, and began to dig harder through his backpack. Arrowheads… Lili’s friendship bracelet… couldn’t he have something small to burst into a ball of flame to light his way? As he searched, something began to crawl on his leg with six little feet. His eyes flickered down to see what was crawling across him. It was a bumblebee, complete with a fat, fuzzy black and yellow body. Goosebumps began to crawl up his skin, but Raz smiled. Lighting bugs on fire with pyrokinesis was-

“Where am I?” said the bee in a tiny voice.

The goosebumps that had begun to crawl over Raz’s skin erupted. That meek voice stumbling through shyness - it couldn’t be anyone else.

“Dogen?” Raz gasped.

“Where am I?,” the bee asked again, it’s voice becoming louder.

“Sasha?”

Sasha tried to answer Raz, but a thick layer of hissing, sputtering static covered his voice. Raz grit his teeth as the white noise burst in and out of his ears.

“R-... ...-utin, I-... an’t-”

“You can’t- what?”

The bee flew off Raz’s leg, and hurried off through the darkness into a nearby room. Raz ran after it as fast as he could. He wasn’t about to let it vanish from sight. He followed it into the room it had run into. There were turned over chairs, and few scattered broken tables; it was a waiting room. The bee flew up through the air, and onto the ceiling. Raz’s eyes followed it, but the bee became lost among the multitude of other bugs on the ceiling. There were moths, butterflies, beetles, flies, bees, and other insects that Raz had never seen before. All of their wings were fluttering and flickering, but they were going nowhere. The combined buzzing and humming formed the sound of a child sobbing. No water came, but Raz could feel the child’s tears raining down from the insects and landing on his face. A jumble of different voices came out from the crawling, squirming mass. Raz recognized every single one.

“Where am I?,” the bee screamed.

“It's dark in here!,” said a leaf bug.

“What planet are you from?,” said a butterfly.

“Funny, because see, you remind me of this one time…” said a fly.

“Let me go, you lily livered greenhorn!,” said a longhorn beetle.

Their voices began to slur and melt into one another as they spoke faster and faster. The moment Raz tried to get a word in, another bug would begin to speak. Even the other bugs couldn’t get a word in. They either cut each other off, or talked over each other. Raz’s eyes darted back and forth. First he couldn’t follow two sentences, then two words, then two letters.

“Sasha?”

“...-eed ...out-  -ther-az… -in.”

“What’s out there??”

What’s in here??

The insect’s wings began to flap faster and faster, but they continued to thrash about. The child’s cry turned into a shrill scream that grinded against Raz’s brain. He spun his head around the room, eyeing each and every dark nook and cranny. Besides the mass of insects, the rest of the room was dark and quiet, with nothing moving in the shadows. Then, a single shiver shook the room. The cacophony of voices from the insects fell quiet. The room rumbled again, a bit stronger this time. Raz took a step backwards, towards the door. Another shiver came, this time rattling Raz and the furniture around him as well. He stared past the furniture into the darkness. A single green light cut through the shadows. Then, to the right, a red light lit up. Two… three… four pairs of massive, perfectly round, glowing eyes cut through the shadows, staring at Raz from above. He didn’t wait for the rest of the spider to emerge; he turned around and sprinted straight out the door from where he came into the room from.

“Sasha!!” Raz yelled.

The only response he received was static.

Raz’s heart pounded in his chest as he ran. The hallway around him continued to shiver and shake. He had to run harder than before; the floor had become stickier. He took a flying leap down the stairs he had come up, and continued down the hallway. At the end of the hallway, he saw the entrance to the tower. Raz scrambled to prevent himself from running face first into the door, gripped the handle with both hands, and pulled as hard as he could. The door refused to open.

“Come on!”

Raz was not in the mood to play games. A floating translucent hand appeared, and Raz slammed a psychic fist against the door. The door groaned as the fist created a heavy dent in it. He continued to smash against the door, harder and harder. After a few good punches, the door broke off its hinges, and Raz tumbled into another hallway. Raz blinked rapidly, and looked around.

This has to be a trick, right?

The rumbling of the room that he was in cut off his thoughts. The sound of rattling objects came from the rooms around him. Raz crouched down in the corner next to the door that now laid on the ground, and whipped his backpack to his front. Not bothering to open up the front flap, he plunged his hand through it into the contents, and in the next moment, pulled out the Smelling Salts. They smelled burnt, rotting and musty all at the same time, but he would have to bear the assault on his senses. Raz swallowed and held his tongue, opened up the container, brought the salts to his nose, took a deep whiff... and nothing happened. Instead, a high-pitched voice answered his wide eyes, pounding heart, and shaking legs.

“Leaving so soon?”

The voice let out a wheezy chuckle. Raz froze in place. He recognized this voice, just like he recognized the others; this time though, he wished he didn’t.

Part 2

Something small deep within Raz’s head crumbled apart in silence. Without thinking, Raz’s body shimmered away as he turned invisible. He tried his best to steady his breathing, and he pressed himself against the wall; his legs might give out beneath him at any moment. The stray thoughts that had been lingering in the back of his head from before surged back to the forefront like the roiling waves of an ocean beneath a storm. They began to twirl his mind into a whirlwind with what was lurking behind the wall he was leaning against. Each image that flashed in his mind made his skin crawl even more. Raz let out a sharp yell as he steeled his shaking body, not caring that the noise would betray his invisibility. He wouldn’t - he couldn’t - wait for the goosebumps, the crawling to subside. The impossibility of death in the mental plane made room for different fates, fates that he refused to consider.

From the doorway where the steel door once stood, red and green light flooded into the hallway. Raz tore himself away from his hiding spot, and began to run again. This time though, his eyes were not locked forward on the path straight ahead. Instead, they were darting about, looking for a place to take cover. Raz would still not allow himself to turn his head around and look behind him.

He came to a fork in the hallway, with only a few seconds to make his choice. Raz bolted to his right, and opened up the third door he came across. He scrambled inside the room, and closed the door behind him in a half-slam, half “nobody is in here”. A quiet click rang out as the lock in the door set into place. The room before him was the size of a walk-in closet; between the countertop, an examination chair, and himself, only a few more people could fit inside. Near the ceiling, above the countertop, there was an air duct vent. One time when he was six years old, Raz’s father had to fish his older brother out of an air duct when he got stuck inside after going inside for some sort of challenge. While his brother had gotten too big to be crawling around in air ducts, Raz had wondered if he might have been able to fit inside. Now, while he would get that answer to that lingering question, he didn’t have time to mull upon it. With a boost from levitation, Raz hopped up onto the counter. put two fingers from his right hand against his temples, and focused. The top left screw began to glow yellow and started to turn. It was in there tight, but it spun faster as it became looser and loose from its place. Eventually, it came free and dropped to the countertop with a rattling, tiny tink-tink. The other two screws came out in the same manner.

A knock came from the door. Instead of the heavy pounding that Raz was expecting, the knocks were sharp and quick, as if the person behind it was waiting to be let in by an old friend. Raz held his breath, and focused his attention on getting the final screw out. Another set of knocks came. This time, they drummed on the door in a rapid, erratic rhythm rolling like thunder. The knocking was too fast for two hands to perform, too fast for four, but absolutely perfect for eight. The loose screw fell on the countertop with another tink-tink, and the vent cover fell in turn with a crashing bang. A sinking pit formed in the bottom of Raz’s stomach.

“Hell-oooh?”

Shit.

Unsure if responding would land him in deeper water than he already was, Raz hoisted himself as fast as he could towards the inside of the duct. The voice laughed at his lost nerve. The door began to rattle and shake on its hinges, and a dark shadow appeared through the glass. 

“You can’t run away from your cavities.”

Raz grabbed at the ridges inside, and began to pull himself into the air duct. He had to wriggle and twist like a snake in order to fit inside. Cold metal pressed against his body on all sides. His shuffling kicked up a fine layer of dust that had gathered on the bottom of the duct, causing him to sneeze. 

A roaring bang rang out behind Raz as the lock on the door behind him gave out, and it swung open and crashed against the wall. Before he could fit his feet inside the duct and crawl away, three cold metal claws wrapped around his foot. The claws ripped through his shoe into his skin. Pain tore through his body from his foot, and blood began to soak into his sock. Raz screamed at the top of his lungs. He began to thrash his foot about, kicking at his attacker. The claws digged further into his flesh, and pulled, beginning to drag Raz out of the duct. Then, there was a heavy smack as Raz’s foot and shoe slammed point blank into his attacker’s face. His assailant let out a high-pitched screech, and the claws retreated. Raz scuttled away as fast as he could into the claustrophobic tunnels. Scratches and clattering rang out around him as arms reached into the duct in a vain attempt to catch him again. Soon, they stopped, and all Raz could hear was the low rumble of fans from deep within the maze. He couldn’t see an inch in front of his face, but the previously-- now provided brief sanctuary from the horrors outside. And perhaps, a bit of time to call for help. Pause. Focus. Raz blocked out the world around him, and shifted his attention towards reaching out to the real world. For a brief moment, for forever, he heard nothing. Then, his call was answered.

“Razputin, are you hurt?”

A cool wave of relief washed over Raz from Sasha’s voice.

“My foot’s messed up.” He grit his teeth together, feeling the pustulating pounding from the wound.

“You are in what is known as a ---. It is a mental containment area for strong fears and anxieties, so they can be visited in safety.”

“Like a zoo?”

“I suppose.”

“Well… 

Chapter Text

Sometimes in the morning at Whispering Rock, there is nothing to hear but leaves rustling in the wind and the occasional fwip of a page being turned. When Coach Oleander didn't bellow at the crack of dawn for his class, this was a chance for the campers to nestle in bed for a few more hours. The glow of early morning light pouring in through the window of the cabin wouldn't so much as stir a sleeping soul.

Except for the few souls that were awake.

Needing to catch up on the latest issues of True Psychic Tales - The Curse of the Undead Brain, The Assassin of London, Doctor What And The Peculiar Box-Shaped Object - Raz and Lili were reading at the lodge. They were kept warm with blankets and hot chocolate. No words were passed between them, but they didn't need to talk. Sasha was nearby as well, doing some studying and having a morning smoke.

What broke the silence was not Raz or Lili, but rather, a quiet chorus of giggles as someone approached. Raz lifted his head from his book. Lili blinked, but only turned another page. Hurrying up to the lodge on his little legs was Dogen, with something big and white in his arms.

"Dogen, where did you find that cat?" Sasha closed his book, and raised an eyebrow.
"It found me. I felt something against my face, it was him!"
"Hm."
'Isn't the nearest town several miles away?', Raz thought to himself.
"Isn't he cute??"
"Yes."

Raz gave a weak wave to Dogen, and smiled a bit. Dogen gave a bigger smile, and approached the pair.

"Look, Raz!! Isn't he cute?"

Raz took one look at the cat's face. The cat had large wide eyes which didn't stare at Raz. Rather, the cat's eyes stared through him. It's expression was blank. An icy shiver pirced through Raz's blanket and hot chocolate.

"It's... uh, cute."

Lili looked up from her book. A quiet 'aww' escaped her lips. Not only did it have a spooky face, but it's fur looked like a skull! When Raz turned to see the look on her face, she blushed and buried her nose back into her book.

Chapter Text

Mornings were always Dion's favorite time of day.

"Dion! Again?" Frazie let out an exasperated sigh.

Scrawled into the bathroom wall:

“Raz? Did you say something?”

The reflection of Raz in the mirror was still looking at him.

...threw his --- against the mirror.

The mirror burst into pieces. Raz and Dion ducked to avoid the hurtling shards. An ear-cracking shatter rang out and rattled around in their skulls.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Against the cracked dirt-encrusted tiles, the mirror shards rattled. From the reflections, one, two, three, dozens of tiny hands grabbed at the edges of the glass.

Above us, there was the sound of scratching and shuffling.

“Goddamn rats,” said Augustus.

Scurrying through the darkness was a shadow only a few inches high.

Mirtala grabbed her flashlight and flicked the switch on. She pointed the spotlight at the figure. The figure dodged the light, darted across the floor, and squeezed itself under a bookshelf. Only the edge of the spotlight illuminated part of it briefly before it vanished.

The glow of the light moving through the room got a groan out of Frazie. She looked in Mirtala's direction, not bothering to see if she made eye contact or not. Her eyelids were heavy.

"It's two o'clock in the morning," said Frazie.

"I saw something moving in the dark."

"It's probably just a rat."

"It's not a rat!"

Frazie sighed. "How do you know that?"

"It didn’t have a tail, and it looked like it was walking on two feet."

Mirtala was nine and three quarters, for crying out loud. She had long outgrown monsters under the bed and ---.

Something thin and sharp jammed into Frazie's bare ankle.

"---! That isn't funny!"

"I didn't do anything."

Chapter Text

In the cafeteria at headquarters, Raz and Lili were sitting at the far end of a mostly empty table. Outside, the loud pitter-patter of rain drummed against the window in heavy sheets. Lunch today was chicken stew, with a medley of vegetables that weren't given enough time to thaw out and didn't quite fit together.

To avoid staring down at their bowls or out the window, the pair instead took to people-watching. Everyone was inside today and packed in the cafeteria if only to soak up the heat.

When he was in the circus, after performances were over, Raz would watch people as waves of people receded. He gained an eye for picking up patterns in the crowd. However, he hadn't seen the pattern that he found among the people in the cafeteria before.

“Lili?” Raz asked.

“What's up?" she replied.

“Why is everyone wearing those rings?”

On the fingers of agents and staff alike were identical rings. They were silver, dazzling, and shining as hands and fingers turned and moved. Set in them were large, spherical stones the size of pearls. Each one was a different color, and slowly pulsed through the spectrum. Not a single smudge, fingerprint, or speck of dust could be found on any band or stone.

“Why do you ask?”

“I'm just, y'know, not really…”

“Fashionable?”

“Yeah. Fashionable." Raz chuckled.

A quiet hm came out of Lili. “I don't know why everyone is wearing them. But they're all the rage around here, I guess.”

“Are you going to get one?”

“No. Dad wants to get me one, though. He has one himself.”

“Why not get one?”

Lili’s eyes flickered down to her bowl. She frowned and remained silent. Raz had spent enough time with her to read her thoughts without telepathy, but he held his tongue as well.

Internal Incident Memo #051904
At approximately 8:20 AM, Agent Birkov attempted to pass through a metal detector checkpoint to a secure area while wearing a metal ring. Upon request by internal security staff to remove the ring, Birkov began to argue with security staff and attacked checkpoint equipment. Two agents in the area intercepted and restrained Birkov. Intercepting agents were not able to remove Birkov’s ring. Birkov was subsequently transferred to the medical ward for removal of the ring.

“Agent Nein, code purple, medical ward, room 221. Agent Nein, code purple, medical ward, room 221.”

Raz and Sasha hurried down the hall. They passed doctors and nurses with armfuls of documents and clipboards, pushing carts, going every which way. A temptation to slide his goggles down nagged Raz from the back of his mind. The bright white lights, zero windows, and sparkling clean walls and floors burned into his retinas. The last few times he had been here, it was only for a short period of time. He hoped it would be the same rodeo again.

“What’s code purple again?” Raz asked. He was still memorizing the various color codes used around headquarters and didn’t have them nailed down yet.

“Anomalous phenomena. I studied it as a field researcher before transferring to the espionage division.”

Raz didn’t know what the first two words meant, but he could guess. “So the medical staff doesn’t know what’s happening?”

Sasha shrugged. “More or less.”

Sasha was the first to enter the room. Strapped to a bed was an agent in his thirties. His hair was unkempt and his eyes were wide. Thrashing in place and struggling against the restraints, he screamed at the nurses and staff surrounding the bed.

“Let me out of here, you ridiculous assholes! Nothing’s wrong with me!”

Upon hearing the door opening, one of the nurses turned to face Sasha. “Ah, Agent Nein? And this is your assistant?”

Raz scoffed at the last word she said. “Apprentice.”

“Yes,” Sasha replied to the nurse. He approached the bed and the nurse. She was holding something in her hands. “What seems to be the issue?”

The nurse turned the paper in her hands, revealing an X-ray. She handed it to Sasha. “The ring’s metal has fused to the bone in his finger.”

Raz stood up on his tiptoes to look at the X-ray. The image was of the man’s right hand. Between the inner edge of the ring and the bone of his ring finger, there were thick tendrils. The tendrils were woven together from a mix of both bone and metal. Raz even saw the beginnings of new tendrils and weaves jutting out from the ring.

“Have you tried removing it?”

The nurse sighed. “Removal would require amputation.”

“Don’t listen to her!” The man began to shout over the nurse. His voice screeched and ground against the walls. Sasha looked over with a raised eyebrow. Raz’s hands shot under his pilot cap and cupped over his ears.

“There’s nothing wrong with me!" He raised his voice upon seeing Raz cover his ears. "This ring is a part of me, you hear?!”

Chapter Text

The first thing Raz felt was leather straps digging and cutting into the skin of his wrists and ankles.

Raz's eyes flew open, and he looked down. He was strapped into that same dentist chair as before. A shiver shot down his spine, and he swallowed down a gasp. Why was he back here? His eyes darted around, trying to find his captor.

The room around him was dark, but he could make out some features. Spiked thorns snaked across the floor and crawled up the walls. They shuddered up and down as if they were breathing. The window that once gazed into the open ocean now stared into a sea of trees.

Through a broken panel, cold night air drifted through the room. A scent of seawater floated on a slight breeze. Although the wind was gentle, it pierced through Raz's jacket.

"Lili?" Raz called out. His voice echoed against the walls, ringing in his ears.

"Sasha? Milla? Coach? Anyone?"

Only a quiet drone of insects and the buzz of overhead lights answered his cries. Raz could feel his heart beating in his ears, and his limbs shaking against his restraints.

Calm down.

I can get out of here.

It's just a bad dream.

Raz squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to steady his breathing. Instead of focusing on the straps that held him, he instead turned his mind to positive thoughts. He placed them beneath himself, swirling them together into a levitation ball. This wasn't just a bad dream; this was his bad dream. It was his world, and it would play by his rules.

But nothing happened.

The orange ball that would lift Raz into the air, the sensation of his arms and legs freely floating - none of it came. He stirred his thoughts faster, gathering more energy. But soon, his temples began to pound. 

Opening his eyes, Raz found himself in the exact same place as before - trapped in the chair. He shrunk into himself as he blinked away silent tears. He felt like a small, cornered animal with its tail in between its legs. 

Then, a wordless voice began to babble away, its gibberish chatter filling the air. It came at Raz from all directions. Starting as a quiet whisper, the voice steadily became louder. He could make out a screeching tone that bounced with a spring in its step.

Raz gulped, and his breath became ragged. He didn't need to make out words to know who the voice belonged to. Against his better judgment, he began to squirm against his restraints.

Chapter Text

"I thought you didn't have night shift tonight?"

A chickadee named Elm the size of a ping-pong ball sat in the mug Oleander had placed down for him. Elm's family nested in the rafters of the Motherlobe after flying in through the doors one day. When Oleander stayed silent, Elm flapped his wings, spraying out water in all directions. Oleander chuckled at the splash, and put down his cup of tea.

"Couldn't sleep a wink, little solider."

"So you came out to see me?!" Elm's voice was high pitched and full of giggles. Oleander smiled. It reminded him of when he was a wee tot as well.

"Ah-huh!" Oleander replied. His voice echoed against the walls of the large, empty cafeteria.

In reality, Oleander had decided that being at the Motherlobe was better than pacing around his home in the dark. He had woken up in bed with goosebumps and screams in his throat. In his dreams, he felt his body pushing and pulling and squeezing, but couldn't see a thing. Despite not being able to see anything, his muscles were still sore when he woke up. He hoped that the tea would settle down or at least hide his trembling nerves.

A thunderclap echoed from outside. Elm screeched and huddled against the inside of the cup. Oleander scooped him into his hands and held him close to his chest. The rapid thump-thump of a tiny heart beat in Elm's chest.

"Stay calm, solider!" Oleander barked. He wasn't sure if he meant that for Elm, or for himself. All Elm could muster up was a series of dee-dee-dees.

Another boom came from outside. This time though, instead of a thunderclap, it was a roar of an explosion. Glass in the front windows all burst, sending down a hail of glittering shrapnel. In a flash, Oleander ducked under the table with Elm still in his hands. The shards pounded against the surface of the table.

The lights overhead went dark, and the glow of the moon vanished. Oleander peeked out from under the tabled towards outside. In front of the building was a massive shadow, so big he couldn't even see the top of it. As Oleander looked towards it, the same pain from his nightmare surged back.

Chapter Text

“I mean, it’s technically not cannibalism.”

Illuminated by the glow of the CRT, several heads swiveled around to face Bobby. He met the raised eyebrows and grimaces of his campmates with a shrug and a small, jagged-tooth smile. “You know I’m right.”

“Very telling,” Lili replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bobby spat back. Lili crossed her arms and gave him a slow blink. If she was a cat, her tail would be thrashing about.

“Shhh! This is the best part!!” 

Lili jumped at the hush coming from Raz. Silent and unblinking, the only sounds he had made in the last half an hour were the munching of popcorn, the occasional oooh!, and choruses of giggles. If it wasn’t for his legs kicking about and wayward fingers prodding into Lili’s side, she would have assumed his brain was gone.

Chapter Text

"Are you sure we're going the right way?"

"Of course," Grind replied. "A dark wizard becomes well acquainted with the night."

Dry crunching came from beneath Jet and Grind's feet as they walked through the trees. The sky above the pair had long ago faded into darkness. Around them, the trees started to tower into the sky and grew closer together, far denser than the pair's usual monster-hunting grounds. The branches of the undergrowth tangled and wove together more, forcing Jet and Grind to shove them out of the way as they continued. Overhead, the leaves filtered out the summer moonlight. Illuminated only by his and Jet's flashlights, the forest around Jet looked the same from every direction.

"Yeah... yeah," Jet replied.

Jet smiled, but it was a smile to himself. In the back of his mind, he prayed that Grind wouldn't turn around to see him trembling. I'm tough enough for this, he told himself. Back at camp, he had fought bullies and psychic bears alike with nothing but his bare fists. Hell, if the camp counselors would let him (which they wouldn't), he would challenge the lake monster to a sparring match. It was already long past bedtime and he agreed to this expedition with Grind... I can't chicken out now.

"Do not fear the night," Grind replied. "The shadows are not your enemy."

A small, unsteady laugh came out of Jet.

"How much further?" he asked.

Grind raised a finger to his lips. "Silence!" he said in a loud, excited whisper.

Grind froze in place and turned off his flashlight. Jet followed his lead and switched his flashlight off as well. Without the glow of the flashlights or moonlight overhead, the two were completely enveloped in the darkness. Although he tried to keep still as best he could, Jet shifted in place.

With an outstretched finger, Grind pointed into the trees.

"D'ya see that?"

Jet's gaze followed where Grind pointed, and he narrowed his eyes. In the shadows, everything blended together. However, as he continued to stare, shapes slowly began to separate from each other. And off in the distance, one of them was moving. Ambling through the wood was a large, pale figure, nine feet tall. Although the figure was moving, it stayed in the same spot; Jet couldn't tell if it was getting smaller or larger. He hoped it was the former.

"What is that thing?"

Grind let out a 'hm'. With his left hand, he reached into his pack and pulled out his journal; a thick worn tome with yellow sticky notes and yellowed pages. With his right, he lit up a small candle flame in the palm of his hand, just bright enough to read the words. The pages glowed purple as he flipped through his research notes.

While Grind went through his journal, Jet kept his eyes on the figure. It turned its head this way, that way, looking for something. On one side, Jet could see the figure holding something.

"Strange," Grind muttered to himself. "I've never-"

"Uh, Grind?" The figure had raised its arms. Whatever it was holding, it was now pointing it-

-pointing it at them.

"Duck!"

Jet grabbed Grind and slammed to the ground, yanking down Grind as he went down. The journal flew out of Grind's hands as he lost focus. A beam streaked through the air, whizzing above the pair's heads, and hit the journal. The journal launched backward into the air. As it sailed, flickering light surrounded it, and a smell of burnt paper rose from it.

"My research!" Grind screamed.

"Forget the book!" Jet grabbed Grind's hand and the two ran into the forest. Jet didn't know what direction he was running in. He didn't care. As the pair ran, a high-pitched cackle rose behind them.

All Jet knew is that he had to keep his best friend safe.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Raz?” Lili called out.

She watched from the driver’s seat as Raz stepped out of her car at the front doors of the Smash TV production studio. She rolled down the passenger window and took one hand off the wheel to lower her sunglasses.

Raz turned back to face her. “I’m sure it’ll be fine!” I'm not going to chicken out now!

Lili huffed, narrowed her eyes, and adjusted the sunglasses back up. She rolled up the window and pulled back into traffic to find the studio parking lot. Once she had turned around the corner, Raz strode into the building.

Behind the counter of the lobby was a receptionist with rectangular glasses and black hair tied back in a bun. She hurried back and forth between mountains of paperwork piled up around her and a boxy computer monitor. As Raz walked up to the counter, she only gave him a cursory glance before returning back to the computer.

“Ah, Razputin Aquato. You’re late.”

“I’m late? But I- wait, how do you know my name-” 

Another woman emerged from a door, grabbed Raz’s hand, and yanked him into a hallway.

“No time now, Mister Aquato.”

The crew member pulled him down the hallway; Raz had to jog to keep up, lest she dragged him along like a dog on a leash. His longcoat flapped behind him as he ran. As they made their way down the winding hallway, they rushed past people pushing and carrying cameras and props, hugging armfuls of papers, streaming in and out of doors. Their scurrying, nonstop motion, and the twisted hallways reminded Raz of watching anthills during long, hot summer days when he was growing up. Although this time, he was smack dab in the middle of the nest.

Suddenly, Raz pricked his eyebrows up. In the midst of a group of nurses and doctors was a face that had rung a bell. He turned his head to see if he recognized whoever it was. But in the same instant, they had disappeared back into the army of workers. A door opened beside Raz and the crew member shoved him in.

“Get ready to look fabulous!” she called out with the enthusiasm of an overworked retail worker. A loud door slam rang out behind Raz.

Raz’s eyes didn’t have time to adjust to the bright, harsh lights of the room. By the time he blinked, he was shoved into a seat, and his hat and goggles were yanked off. Two women began to stroke his face and hair with brushes, combs, and more. They stared at him with unblinking eyes that regarded a slab of fresh meat.

“You’ll get them back,” one said before Raz had a chance to open his mouth.

At the mercy of the makeup and hair crew, Raz decided to bite his tongue and stare up at the ceiling. Growing up, he had been at the receiving end of his older sister’s rage whenever Raz or his older brother decided to go through and play with her makeup. He didn’t want to go and kick the hornet’s nest before he did so on live TV.

While Raz was stuck in the chair, his thoughts had time to swirl around. His mind kept circling back to the face that he had seen within the hallway, the face that had only appeared for a split second. Who was that? he kept asking himself. I’ve seen them before. But where? Why med crew? No matter how much he racked his brain, no one came to mind.

As Raz kept thinking, as the lights kept pressing on his senses, as the makeup crew continued to work on him, a stone formed at the bottom of his stomach. He realized that the person he had recognized smiled back at him. But they had smiled with the grin of a crocodile before they lunged, teeth glimmering and jaws snapping. Eventually, tired of the weight of the sinking stone, Raz pushed the observation to the back of his mind. It was nothing more than an idiosyncrasy, a split-second oddity, a mirage in the desert.

After what felt like forever, the brushes and combs finally relented. Raz’s hat was fitted back on his head and he was pulled out of his seat. Another crew member led him out of the makeup room and through the hallways again. Soon, he was shoved into another room.

“Wait here,” the crewmember said. Then, they slammed the door behind Raz.

Raz found himself in a small, cramped room with vomit green walls. Shiny black couches with cushions that had lost all their fluff long ago lined the room. The couches faced a wall of televisions flashing through various Smash TV shows; Stars In Their Eyes, Risk it All, Brain Squeezers, and more.

Raz flopped onto the end of one of the couches and sighed. The couches were as uncomfortable as they looked, but after the past… hour? Half an hour? He didn’t know. Regardless of how much time had passed, he was able to sit and let his shoulders down.

However, the silence was short-lived. From behind the door came a series of yells. Raz lifted his head and stared towards the door. The yells got louder, the door swung open, and a crew member thrust another contestant inside the waiting room.

The newcomer hissed like an angry feline. As the door slammed behind him, he began to swear under his breath. Raz chuckled to himself. Bobby hasn’t changed a bit.

“Goddamn.” Bobby’s eyes narrowed and he blinked, turning around like a dazed animal. “Who turned up the brightness?”

“It’s called light. Like you would know what that is,” Raz replied.

Bobby whirled on his heel to face Raz. He widened his eyes, then narrowed them. “Raz-putin.” 

Raz shot a smile back at him. “Looks like you got put through the wringer.”

Bobby was dressed in a black t-shirt emblazoned with the logo for the band Overdrive Hell, which was starting to crumble and fade. He also wore a jean jacket with the sleeves ripped off, and a pair of jeans with fading color and torn knees. His orange afro was combed into a neat sphere with not a hair out of place. His hair shone in the light from a thick layer of conditioner and hair spray. A layer of makeup was slathered over his face.

“Those prissy fucks strapped me down!” Bobby yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls of the small room. He lifted up his hands; on his wrists were red welts embedded into his skin. “Like I need any of this crap!”

“Sure you don’t.” 

The mental image of Bobby being strapped into a chair, screaming as he was surrounded by a small army making him prim and proper perfect for the cameras, flared in Raz’s mind. If being pampered is torture for Bobby… well, can’t wait ‘till we get out on stage.

Bobby sat down on a couch separate from Raz, neither directly across nor next to him. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, brushing aside crumpled magazines on top of the table. With a catlike stare, he glared at Raz.

“The hell is with that getup?” Bobby asked. “What do they call you, Amelia Lameheart?”

“The Human Cannonball,” Raz replied.

“The Human Cannonball?” Bobby’s nostrils flared, and he snorted. “They should call you the Human Guineapig.”

“You’re on this show too.”

“You think anything on this show is going to be hard?” Bobby smiled like a shark, displaying an array of jagged teeth. “We do far worse back at Psi-U.”

---

... an orange blazer partially covering a shirt with the logo for Global Psychikos League, and matching pants. 

---

Mikhail took a set on the couch Raz was sitting on, placing himself between Raz and Bobby.

---

“Was invited.”

“You were invited?”

“For the fans.”

“For the fans?”

“Told me it would be a challenge. Always been one for a challenge.”

---

“You?” An undignified snrk came out of Raz. “A band?”

---

“No thanks. I’d rather not bleed from my ears.”

---

“Where the fuck is Benny?”

---

"Was starting to wonder if you wouldn’t make it, mister Z-lister. Maybe you're just too good for us."

"I'm a D-lister, thank you very much!"

---

“What’s the grand prize?”

“Don’t tell me you came onto this show expecting a prize,” Bobby replied.

“The prize is our misery,” Clem replied without missing a beat. “Nothing is tragic; everything is unreal.”

“Wowww. Talk about Mister Poet over here.”

---

The runner shoved clipboards into their laps, followed by cheap ballpoint pens.

---

“Sign on the dotted line.”

---

They followed the crewmember into a thinner hallway, then a thinner hallway. Then, faintly in the distance, they heard the murmurs of a crowd.

---

“Any last words?”

“L-last words?” Benny stammered.

A voice crackled and shouted through the earpiece of the crew member’s microphone, leaking out. “Ten seconds! Nine… eight…”

“Well, looks like there’s no time for last words anyways.”

---

Bright white lamps illuminated the stage, shining down on a tiled floor and scrubbed walls. In the center of the stage were five chairs and a circular table covered with a tablecloth. Not a speck of dust was on the floor, the walls, the tablecloth, or even the lightbulbs. 

The hairs on the back of Raz’s neck stood on end. Is this a dentist’s office?, he thought to himself.

---

Brushing aside his thoughts, Raz sat down in one of the chairs. The tiny, flimsy metal chair squeaked as he rested. Without any sort of cushion, the sharp juts and grooves of the chair dug into his legs and back. He swallowed down a grumble and rolled his eyes in silence to no one in particular.

Raz turned his attention to the table. Situated on the table was a large wooden disk. A set of identical bottles sat on the disk in a circle of slots. Each bottle was the size of a small prescription container, jet black, and with a cap half the size of a dime at the top. Raz placed his fingers on top of the disk and slid his hand. The disk rotated, inching along beneath his touch.

Maybe I should open one of those up? a wayward thought asked Raz as he looked at the bottles.

No. Bad idea.

Turning his attention back to the table, Raz began to count how many bottles there were in the circle with one finger. Twelve… thirteen... fourteen… fourteen. But despite there only being fourteen bottles, there were fifteen slots. One slot sat empty. 

---

“Three...  two… one… and we are live!”

On cue, a short woman bounced out of the shadows onto the stage. Barely five feet tall, she wore suspenders, a long skirt, and a bright red bowtie. A mop of dark brown curls and dreadlocks hid her eyes. Despite her eyes not being visible, she wore a pair of hot pink heart shades over her hair. In her right hand, she twirled around a microphone. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the very first time, live from Smash TV, it’s The Last Braincell!” she shouted into the microphone. A round of applause rose from the audience. Synths began to swell, followed by horns and drum beats that blared throughout the room. The announcer strutted about the stage to the beat of the music, with the posture and audacity of a peacock with its tail feathers up. 

“As always, I’m your announcer and host, Miss Gideon!!” Gideon gestured towards the boys and gave them a wide wave. “Today, we’re joined by five idiots with nary a clue between them.” 

Raz kicked back as best as he could and ---; Bobby ---; Benny waved towards the cameras; Clem wooed and bounced in his seat; Mikhail ---. 

    Am not an idiot,

She's right, you know.

---

“These five gentlemen will be taking a smell test, sponsored by today's special guest…”

Benny squirmed in his seat and shifted this way and that. A special guest? Aren’t I- erm, we the special guests?!, Benny shouted in their heads.

Mikhail cocked his head to one side. He scratched at his chin with a wayward finger. Did not mention guest.

Bobby bared his teeth. Raz swore his afro fluffed up even bigger like a cat’s fur. Who the fuck is she talking about?, he hissed in their thoughts.

“...the one, the only…”

The cheers and applause drowned out Gideon; Raz could no longer hear what she was saying. The gaze of the audience focused on the left side of the stage, getting all the boys to swing their heads in that direction. Upon seeing who was coming in, Raz no longer needed to hear Gideon.

Striding into the room in all his gangly limbed, grinning glory was Doctor Loboto. With his left hand, he gave wide waves to the crowd and cameras. He was dressed in his normal straight-long-jacket and floral shower cap getup he had worn for the last ten-plus years. The one expectation was his collar; it was unbuttoned to reveal a bowtie. The bowtie was the same color as Gideon’s, but with the addition of a pattern of tiny little teeth.

Meanwhile, the group stared at Loboto from the table with hollow eyes and gaping mouths, as if they had all been caught with their pants pulled down. Raz’s thoughts collapsed into static and white noise, except for one:

What’s he doing here? Raz thought to the others.

Golly. Talk about a cherry on top! Clem replied.

Don't like this, Mikhail replied.

Pft. I don't think anyone does, Benny replied. Despite the sneer in his voice, his face was blank like the rest of them.

Bobby remained silent. His face had drained of color and he trembled in his seat like a small dog caught out in the cold without a sweater. 

---

Ignoring the stares, Loboto strolled up to the table. He opened up the inside of his coat and reached inside with his arm. From his coat, he produced another one of the black bottles. He placed it into the final slot, completing the set.

---

The disk suddenly began to spin of its own accord, whirling at a million miles per minute. Black bottles rushed past each of them.

---

What do you have planned for us, Loboto?!

---

"I think you already know."

---

Already know, already know… what did he mean, they already knew?!

---

Then, the truth hit them like a freight train.

---

Bobby was the first to flip.

“Fuck you!” he screamed. “Fuck you!” A hail of spittle flew from his mouth. He trembled in his seat.

Raz grabbed at the sides of his chair to stop himself from tumbling backwards in his chair and onto the floor. He had never heard Bobby yell like that. He had heard Bobby howl in fistfights, screech in pain, get into shouting matches. But his screams that echoed through the room were that of a cornered, defenseless animal.

---

Fat tears formed in the corners of Benny’s eyes.

---

Clem kept his eyes glued to the spinning bottles. Plastered and taped onto his face was a smile, with only a twitching corner of his lip giving him away. His wide, unblinking eyes and rigid posture reminded Raz of a deer caught in the lights of a runaway train.

---

“Boys, boys, boys, boys, boys…” Gideon clicked her tongue and put her hands on her hips. She hung her head and shook it from side to side. “You really should have seen this coming. Maybe you should have read the contract.” Her tone was betrayed by the smile on her face, and though he couldn’t see her eyes, Raz could feel the twinkle in them regardless.

“But enough talk!” Gideon swung her head back up, curls bouncing. “I say we get this pain train rolling!! What do yooooou say?!” She twirled her microphone around in her hand and pointed it at the audience.

“Pain train! Pain train! Pain train!” the audience chanted back at her, their voices growing each louder with each chant.

---

“Good luck!” “You’ll need it!”

---

The whirling disk came to an abrupt stop. Raz swallowed a heavy stone that had formed in his throat. It settled at the bottom of his stomach, and grew heavier, sinking lower. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and ran down his skin.

---

Despite ---, Mikhail laughed.

"What's he laughing at?"

---

His insides burned, from the insides of his nostrils, into his head, and down his throat. Tears streamed down his cheeks in a waterfall, and a stream of clear snot ran out of his nose.

---

"Looks like you've just turned into a tomato."

---

Although blurry from tears and snot, in the corner of the eye, he spotted Benny switching their bottles. Was he trying to exchange pain for more pain? 

---

White, dusty powder spilled out of the bottle.

---

“What the fuck is that? Coke?!”

---

"It's flour."

---

Benny was on the floor, swearing and mumbling curses under his breath. A cameraman ran up on stage, crouched down, and pointed the camera from above at him.

---

Raz snickered. That's what Benny got for trying to pull one of the oldest tricks in the books.

---

Clem screamed like a goat.

---

"You really are a bitch, huh?"

"I'm a professional asshole."

---

There were only five bottles left.

---

He wiped his mind blank as best he could.

---

"Three… two…  go!"

---

In one swift motion, Raz flipped the lid off, put the mouth of the bottle to his left nostril, and inhaled as deeply as he could.

---

Gideon placed two fingers over her mouth, and raised her microphone over her head. A hush fell over the crowd.

---

A drip of clear snot ran out of Benny’s left nostril and across his face. His entire body shuddered in his seat. Mikhail blinked, raised an eyebrow, and leaned forward.

“Alright?” Mikhail asked.

Suddenly, Benny burst out laughing. He laughed long and hard, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. Sniffles and giggles bubbled under his breath as he gasped for air. However, just as quick as he started laughing, the sniffles and giggles turned to violent wheezing.

Bobby took two fingers and swiped up the snot on Benny’s face. Benny didn’t so much as blink at the intrusion. Bobby dipped his sticky fingers in his mouth. His eyes went wide and his pupils contracted. This wasn't the taste of normal snot. Instead, an awful smell and taste of bile swirled around in his mouth, mixed with the tinge of salt and metal…

Loboto giggled. “I appreciate your confidence, boys.”

A cacophony of groans, sighs, screams, and yells broke out across the table. The clatter of bottles and metal chairs banging against the floor punctuated the racket.

“Shitshitshitshitshit!!”

“Incredible!! Woo!! Thanks, doc!”

“Someone pinch me.”

“Беда́ не прихо́дит одна́…”

Raz leaped in his skin and dropped the bottle onto the table; it fell onto its side, rolled off the table, and hit the floor. Pressure built up in his nostrils, swelling by the second. The sides of his head began to pound, twisting and digging into his brain. But something else filled Raz; a blazing heat, so hot that he felt as if he might just burst into flames.

A yellow glow enveloped Raz’s bottle as it floated off the floor. Before the others realized what was happening, Raz had already launched the bottle towards Loboto. The bottle sailed through the air in an arc, sending powder in all directions as it flew. Then, it slammed dead center in the middle of Loboto’s face. A burst of powder exploded against his nose and mouth as the bottle made impact.

How's that for the last laugh?!

The others began to hurl various bottles at Loboto, both with telekinesis and with their own two hands. A mix of different powders fell like colorful snow and covered everything; the table, the floor, their hair. Loboto stumbled backward at the sudden assault. He let out a wild cackle.

“Didn’t expect that, goggle boy.”

A howl rose from the crowd. Raz turned toward them, looked into the lenses of the cameras, and broke out into an ear-to-ear grin. The howl turned into a thunderous roar. Producers and crew rushed to and fro, in equal states of bewilderment, excitement, and amusement. If they wanted a show, Raz would give them one.

Bobby lept up with flames in his eyes. “I hope you’ve left enough room for my fist because I'm going to ram it into your stomach and break your god-damn spine!” The last thing Raz saw before everything went dark was Bobby flying across the room, lunging towards Loboto.

Chapter Text

For the first time ever, Raz was not wearing his hat- of his own volition.

His hair open to the wind, Raz sat underneath the shadow of a large tree at the edge of the fairgrounds. Well, his hair would flutter in the wind if there was a breeze. But there was no breeze in the still, sticky air. There wasn’t even a single cloud to be found in the sky. Raz’s tank top drooped and clung to his skin. Even the grass, which provided even a tiny bit of relief on the worst days, felt more like brittle straw. 

Instead of resigning himself to melt, Raz kept his eyes glued to the pages of his comic book. The pages were crumpled, frayed, and torn at the edges. A mishmash of staples and strips of clear tape held the spine together. Nowadays, Raz tried to make sure his books were not falling apart at the seams. But for this old-timer, sweat and dirt could not hurt them more. Plus, going back to the classics was always a nice treat. The thrilling adventures of Doctor Annie Jones in True Psychic Tales #21 kept him from noticing the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

The comic book wasn't the only thing keeping Raz from losing his mind (thankfully, not literally). He had another sweet treat, in the form of a wad of bubblegum in his mouth. The entire bag was lying in the grass to him, safe from the grubby hands of his siblings. 

Raz had traded for the bubblegum with one of the local kids grabbing tickets for the circus. She was a tall girl with tattered hair hidden beneath a torn-up red cap. The girl swore up and down that Bubblicorn made the sweetest, biggest, stickiest bubbles. Raz could have called the tattered girl many different things. He had to talk quicker than usual during his trade with her and scurried away into the crowd before she could think twice. 

But one thing he could not call her was a liar. Sugar and fruity flavors burst in his mouth. All the other gum he had before might as well be melted plastic. No matter how much he chewed, the taste didn’t fade, not even a smidge. The bubbles blew up well and burst with a satisfying snap. What more could he ask for?

Well, one thing Raz didn't ask for was his little sister. The jingle-jangle of bells drew him out of the pages of the book. He sighed under his breath and looked up from the pages. Skipping up to him was Mirtala, with her bells ringing and hair loops bouncing. A halo of orange frizz surrounded the top of her head. She made a catlike purr and batted her eyes at Raz. Upon seeing her look, he cracked his gum with a bit more force than usual.

“Heeey, Raz.” Mirtala spoke in a singsong voice. Raz winced at her tone and he grabbed at the grass to avoid his hands shooting up to his ears. “What're you doin’?” she asked.

“Trying not to die.” As if this day couldn't get any better, Raz thought to himself.

“Me too.” 

The normal glint in her eyes was a bit faded. However, Raz could still see the telltale flash when she spotted the bag of bubblegum. He dropped his comic book and shot his hands over. But it was too late; Mirtala had already snatched up the bag, and he was left clawing at the bone-dry dirt.

"That's mine!"

"Where'd you get this?" Mirtala was already pulling out a piece of gum. Crackling and crinkling filled the air as she turned the piece between her fingers, twisting off the twirls at the ends of the wrapper.

"I traded for it." A glare crossed Raz's face. And I traded for that by myself!

Mirtala ignored his look. Instead, she put the gum into her mouth, tossed the bag beside Raz, and flopped down next to him. Raz rolled his eyes and sighed. Mirtala stuck to her siblings like a piece of melted gum on the sidewalk, no matter how much they tried to get away.

Raz picked his comic book back up. He brought the pages a bit closer to his face this time. Even as he read the words and flipped the pages, he could feel Mirtala looking over his shoulder. If he pretended that he wasn’t looking at her, he could spot her in the corner of his eyes. But every time Raz turned his head, no matter how fast he turned it, she was looking in the other direction. Mirtala would stare at the pink bubble coming from her lips with wide, unblinking eyes and no words. She called True Psychic Tales ‘stupid’ - her words. But Raz knew the truth.

In the scorching, shimmering heat, something began to brew in the bottom of their stomachs. When it was too quiet and Raz wasn’t looking at her, Mirtala smacked her lips together. The quieter it was, the louder the smack was. Raz responded by cracking his gum. The pair occasionally exchanged looks with narrowed eyes. The sun had stolen their voices, but neither of them had to say anything.

Once the current story in Raz's comic book was over, he turned his head again. A large bubble came from Mirtala's lips; it was roughly the size of a large onion. Raz's own bubble was slightly bigger than hers. She noticed Raz looking over; he smiled. Mirtala smiled back, but not with Raz. In one swift motion, she flicked her index finger and popped his bubble. Gum splattered across his chin and the bottom half of his face.

"Hey, what was that for?!" Raz started to pull the gum off his face, grumbling as he did so. Not only did it cling to his face, but it stuck to his hands as well. Man, that girl wasn't lying when she said it was sticky.

Mirtala giggled. "You can't make a bigger bubble than me."

"I totally bet I can, though."

"Oh yeah?"

"Bet you can't beat me."

Mirtala sat back, crossed her legs, and jabbed Raz in the side with her elbow. He jabbed back.

"Bet on," Mirtala replied.

At the same time, both of them dug into the bag of gum to grab the biggest pieces they could find before the other one did.

"How many pieces?" Mirtala asked.

"Eight," Raz replied without missing a beat.

"Eight? Are you serious?"

"What're going to do, chicken out?" Raz raised an eyebrow and the corners of his lips curled upward.

"No!!" Mirtala blew a loud raspberry back at him and continued to dig through the bag.

Soon, the pair had all their pieces.

---

Mirtala ran back towards the colorful tents.

"Fraziiie!" Mirtala wailed in between choked sobs, her cries ringing out through the air.

Behind her, Raz dragged his feet as he walked back to the caravan. He swore to himself under his breath, and tried to resist the itch to try and get the gum out of his hair right there and then.  He wasn't keen on smelling like lunch for the next couple of days.