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razzle-zazzle · 2 years

Text

3,915 Words; Buried Beneath AU

TW for mentions of murder

AO3 link

Morris was quiet on the drive back to the Motherlobe. He might have opened his mouth to speak, once or twice, but by the time they were halfway there Morris had pulled out his walkman to listen to music instead. Bugging everyone to lighten the mood didn’t feel like a good idea, right now. Partly because the mood was just so… quiet.

He hated silence. It was so empty. So lackluster. So lifeless, in all of its stupid silent forms.

But this wasn’t a gloomy sort of silence, not entirely. Raz and Lili were next to each other, holding a private conversation through their mental link. In the passenger seat, Norma seemed more contemplative than anything, possibly biting her tongue to keep herself from grilling Raz for every little detail. She did love a good mystery.

Lizzie wasn’t the type to start a conversation. Gisu looked like she was mentally performing every calculation under the sun. Knowing her, the first thing she’d do upon getting back would be to take her levboard to the Questionable Area and skate until she’d processed everything.

Sam was staring blankly out the window. Morris couldn’t tell if she was bothered or not; it was always a little hard to tell, with Sam. But knowing how she saw Raz as a little brother, Morris would put money on her being stressed out.

And with Adam focusing on driving, that left the van way too quiet for Morris’ liking.

Adam had asked, once everyone had finally met up, if Raz had wanted to talk about it. Raz had mumbled out a shaky “later” and hadn’t let go of Lili’s hand since. Nobody wanted to tread on the little man’s wishes when he was this stressed, so no conversations were forthcoming.

So. The walkman. If attempts to start up a conversation wasn’t going to work, then Morris would resort to his one true love—good music.

He had to fill the silence for himself somehow, after all.

Morris frowned as Adam turned off the main road. He didn’t know Dion as well as he knew his brothers, but he liked to think he knew him better than the other Junior Agents, sans Raz, Gisu, and probably Lili. Morris frowned as Adam turned off the main road. He didn’t know Dion as well as he knew his brothers, but he liked to think he knew him better than the other Junior Agents, sans Raz, Gisu, and probably Lili. They weren't friends, no matter what Gisu said when she came into the treehouse to needle him, but—

Dion’s beliefs about psychics had done wonders for K.L.O.B.’s ratings, and Morris had to admit it: competing with the acrobat over completely reasonable and not stupid at all bets was fun.

…He really hoped Dion came out of this okay. Both for his and his family’s sakes.

+=+=+=+=+

Raz wasn’t Dogen. At all.

But he was still Sam’s little brother, even if only in spirit. That made him and his well being Just As Important as Dogen’s, for Sam, even if it wasn’t in quite the same way.

So to see the little guy stressed out? To see the way he held Lili’s hand like a lifeline, face crinkled under the helmet and behind the goggles—

It stung. A lot.

It was the kind of sting that, were it Dogen in Raz’ position, Sam wouldn’t have hesitated to scoop him up and tuck him close to her body, offering comfort and support while the little man processed his feelings.

But Lili had the comforting part covered, and Sam didn’t want to intrude. If Raz still needed a good shoulder to cry on later, Sam would be there.

Adam made the turn onto the bridge leading into the quarry. Sam kept her face blank as she glanced at Raz again, her fingers grasping at the fabric of her shirt.

Morris had explained, through his transmission, what he knew of the situation. Raz had yet to really elaborate on it, and that was fine. Kid was eleven. Let him have some time to process.

But there were still gaps in Morris’ explanation, as well-articulated as it had been. The basic gist, from what Sam understood, was that Raz had finally found his brother, only for it to not be his brother.

Which… yeah, Sam could understand why that would suck. She barely knew Dion—they’d cooked together, once, and he clearly wasn’t all that good because he’d gotten unreasonably upset about all of her substitutions to the recipe (it was a tuber that came from the ground, that basically made it the same as a potato, no need to be so upset over it), then avoided her since. But she knew he and Raz hadn’t been getting along when Raz first arrived in the quarry, and it had taken them quite a while to smooth things out.

It must have felt like reopening old wounds, fighting someone with his brother’s face.

Adam brought the car to a stop in the Motherlobe’s parking lot.

Sam glanced at Raz and Lili again as the junior agents got out, Agents Nein and Vodello already approaching the car to meet them. People were blathering on about reports and offering comfort, but Sam wasn’t listening anymore.

Walking up to Raz, she put her hand on his head. Offered him her best smile when he looked up at her.

Raz nodded, never letting go of Lili’s hand.

As he walked off to go give his report of what went down in the alleyway, Sam called over a nearby bird and whispered instructions in its ear.

She had some comfort pancakes to go make.

+=+=+=+=+

Lili held Raz’ hand tightly. She didn’t let go. Not during the car ride back to the Motherlobe, and not while he gave his report of what went down in the alleyway.

Nausea and anxiety tumbled over one another in their link, Lili’s reassurances flowing between the debris like water around boulders.

The agents had questions. Typical stuff, like the where and when and who, alongside every other little question they could think of to glean clues from what went down.

What was the imposter wearing? How did they act? What went down inside their brain?

Raz answered the questions truthfully, Lili piping in where she could. When Raz had run off, how she’d tracked him down to that alleyway, what the scene had been like when she and Gisu and Morris had gotten there.

Through it all, they went over the details through their link. What Not-Dion had been wearing, the stark difference in his expressions from Dion’s. Contemplation and confusion danced around each other, undercut by mutual concentration and reassurance.

Not-Dion had teleported away with a flash. This was apparently a sign of poor technique, that so much power was needed.

When all of the questioning was finally done and over with, Raz finally let go of Lili’s hand. “I’m going to go see Nona.” He said.

Lili nodded. “I’ll be in my garden.” The if you need me went unsaid.

She could still feel him at the edge of their link when she got there, faint echoes of stress and determination clinging to the corners like soft moss.

She replied with a pulse of warmth, the calm glow of a fireplace lighting up the edges.

Turning her attention to her garden, Lili pulled out the tools she kept at the edge of the grove. There wasn’t much work to be done, admittedly, but it was relaxing, going over every inch of the space and making sure everyone was growing well. It also gave her the chance to ask them about their day, and ramble about hers.

They were good listeners, plants. Francine complained about not getting enough water, but he was always like that, and the familiarity was comforting. Fred, ever patient as she was, offered the reassurance that, were any of the local plants to catch wind of Not-Dion’s whereabouts, they’d tell her.

Knowing that trees had gossip circles that could stretch for miles, Lili didn’t doubt that word would spread.

It was just a matter of if Dion’s brain could be recovered, really.

His body was still alive, which was a good sign—but his brain could be anywhere. Lili hadn’t seen anything on Not-Dion’s person that could have been hiding a brain.

Frustration ebbed in her like sunlight slinking onto the landscape. Hot and harsh, it pricked at her fingers like tiny flames.

On the one hand, the Dion Situation had finally moved on from “anxious unknowns” to “exciting certainties” now that they finally had a clue. There was someone to chase after, someone Lili could direct her anger to until things were fixed.

And oh, was she angry.

It was so much like what had happened with Dad and Malik—how could Lili not be angry on her boyfriend’s behalf, when she knew how much this kind of thing sucked?

At the other end of their link, Raz pulsed back reassurance, a cool balm to Lili’s frustrations.

The reminder was clear. Lili echoed it, pulsing warmth-hope-resolve in gentle flares.

They weren’t alone in this. Raz had helped Lili when her Dad��s brain was stolen, and Lili would return the favor.

She just hoped things worked out in the end this time, too.

+=+=+=+=+

Gisu grunted as she hit a bump with her levboard, thankfully managing to keep her balance despite it.

She was going to skate until her legs fell off. Or until her chest no longer felt so tight. Whichever came first.

She wanted to grab Dion by the shoulders and shake him for disappearing. She wanted to shoot the imposter full of electricity for making Dion disappear.

She wanted—

Gisu wanted a lot of things.

Dion and her had a good thing going. They’d spent the time working out a plan to keep in contact during the Aquatos’ brief cross-country tour; plotting out the times and budget for weekly calls. It was during these calls that Gisu managed to convince Dion that he had something extrasensory going on, that his intuition was more than normal gut instinct. It was during these calls that they talked about their day-to-day lives, sharing stories of engineering failures and successes alongside tales of successful shows and funny mishaps. It was during these calls that they just kept getting to know each other. Kept sharing jokes and banter.

So. Gisu was definitely something of a lovestruck teen when it came to those weekly calls. She’d always had a soft heart when it came to romance—could she really be blamed for getting excited to hear her boyfriend’s voice?

And then the night came when Dion didn’t call.

At all.

Maybe he’s just late, Gisu had thought. Maybe something came up, and we’ll call later, or tomorrow, and laugh about how life undoes even the best-laid plans.

It wouldn’t be the first time a call got delayed, after all.

But no calls had been forthcoming. Gisu was hesitant to call the family number, wary of tripping the phone plan that she and Dion had planned around.

She wasn’t sure if hearing the news early would have made things better or worse.

It was three days after the missed call, three days of stewing and uncertainty, that Augustus called Lucrecia. Two hours after that, and Raz and Lili were hand-in-hand in the dorms’ common room, pouring over their favorite TPT issues, comfort snacks open next to them.

Dion went missing eight days ago.

The explanation had felt like a punch in the gut.

He’s been presumed guilty for a murder that occurred within the timeframe of his disappearance.

It didn’t sound real, like the plot of a trashy romance novel with all the good romance sucked out of it.

The evidence points to him.

It was hard to reconcile the guy who got unreasonably uptight about the dumbest little things with that. Hard to reconcile the guy who’d gently helped Gisu across a balance beam, who braided his baby sister’s hair and took on extra responsibilities for his parents’ sakes with the person the events depicted.

Dion just… he wasn’t the kind of guy to kill someone and leave. He had to have a good reason, or there was a misunderstanding, or—

Or Gisu didn’t know him as well as she thought she did.

Gisu’s levboard hit a snag she couldn’t recover from, sending her tumbling down into the dirt. Groaning, she picked herself up, glancing about for her levboard.

The encounter in the alleyway was reassuring, Gisu supposed, in that it confirmed that Dion wasn’t that type of person. It was whoever had swapped brains with him that was.

But knowing that didn’t ease the sting of the situation.

Gisu picked up her board, setting it up again with another pair of levballs.

That had been Dion, right there, real and alive—

And it wasn’t him at all.

Just some prick in Dion’s body, making the ground rumble and shake.

Gisu made a sharp turn on her levboard.

She was worried. She was angry. She was hurt and frustrated and altogether not remotely equipped for another brain-swapping debacle.

Bust most of all?

Gisu was scared.

Scared that they wouldn’t be able to find Not-Dion. Scared that Dion’s brain might never be found.

Scared that she’d never get to see Dion again.

God, this really was just a trashy romance novel, wasn’t it? Not even the kind of trashy she’d devour late at night, no—the kind of trashy just this side of tragic, except this was real. Gisu couldn’t escape it by closing the book.

So she continued to skate, pushing her body as close to its limits as she dared. Skate until she could think clearly enough to know how to fix this.

When that came, Gisu would get to work. She didn’t care if the senior agents were already working on tracking down Not-Dion. That was her boyfriend, and Pooter’s brother, and she was going to make sure she got him back.

If her life was about to become a cheap romance novel, she might as well make sure it had a happy ending.

+=+=+=+=+

Lizzie barely even knew Dion.

But she knew Raz, and she knew that he wasn’t taking the alleyway encounter well.

Comforting wasn’t Lizzie’s thing. The senior agents were already working on tracking down Not-Dion. Everyone else had dispersed to do their own thing.

And Lizzie had done the same. She’d organize a movie marathon later that night, something fun and simple to take Raz’ mind off of everything.

It was what their trip into town was supposed to be, after all. It was only fair that the ruined outing got made up for. So here she was, picking through the movie collection in the common room of the dorms for just the right movie.

Horror wouldn’t do, for all that Lizzie would have preferred it. She needed to find something Pooter could destress with, not something he’d traumatize himself with trying to prove he was brave enough to watch. No need to repeat the Breakfast Massacre Incident.

Lizzie moved on from the horror movies.

There was something familiar about this whole situation, some realization dancing on the edge of Lizzie’s mind. She couldn’t place it, though, so she left the thought to be picked at later.

She bumped the shelf by accident, knocking a few movies to the floor.

Grumbling half-heartedly, Lizzie bent down to pick them up. She’d already passed over these movies and determined them unsuitable.

Her copy of Invasion of the Body Snatchers was among the movies that fell. The original version, since she hadn’t yet had the chance to get a copy of the 1978 remake.

She’d heard good things about the remake, though—apparently it incorporated psychic characters into the plot, and actually used telepathy to further the story. She had been hoping to find a copy on today’s outing, but none of the stores had carried it.

It was a shame, but Lizzie would live. That the movie vaguely reminded her of an old folktale—

Lizzie blinked.

Oh.

That was what was bugging her.

Setting the movies back on the shelf, Lizzie went to her dorm, long strides taking her to the door in less than a minute.

There, on the little shelf above her desk!

Lizzie picked up the book of obscure myths, flipping it open.

It wasn’t a particularly popular folktale, but the book described it in detail, with a few historical references.

The story went that young psychics would disappear, only to come back… different. Same face, similar mannerisms, but claiming to go by a different name. Suddenly a whole lot more psychically adept. Rejecting their old lives. A completely different person, wearing the skin of someone familiar.

That was assuming they even turned back up at all.

But… this sounded an awful lot like what had happened to Dion. A bodyhopping imposter, changing faces over history. Normal people disappearing, only to come back completely different.

Lizzie slammed the book closed.

She’d still have to figure out what movies to watch, later, but for now—

She had some myths to research.

+=+=+=+=+

Norma completed another line of her knitting, lost in thought.

Something wasn’t adding up.

Maybe it was psychic intuition. Maybe it was everyday mundane intuition. Maybe it was Norma thinking herself more clever than she was—

But something wasn’t sitting right with her. She’d heard Raz’ report about what he’d seen in the imposter’s mind. His descriptions could use work, sure, but Norma was certain that the kid hadn’t been lying.

He wouldn’t lie about something like this.

But his description of the memory vault just didn’t sit right with Norma. The senior agents had inferred from it that the imposter had swapped bodies before, and Norma agreed with that assessment wholeheartedly. It was something else that was bugging her.

There wasn’t much in the way of formal studies on the removal of brains from bodies, with the oldest dating back little more than two decades ago, but Norma had read the reports on the Whispering Rocks Incident. She knew how Helmut returned from the dead, and was distinctly aware of why her going to the “Grand Head” to snitch on Raz had backfired on everyone so spectacularly.

Sasha Nein himself had done further studies on the subject since the Green Needle Gulch Incident, with Malik’s… mostly willing help. He hadn’t found a safe way to test it, yet, but—

But the theory, pioneered all the way back when the Psychonauts were just a group of friends exploring the unknown, and somewhat supported by the post-mortem brains currently in Otto’s lab, held that a brain wouldn’t last forever once the body was gone. With enough stimulus one could return some activity to it, but eventually the dead-end connection to the original body resulted in the brain becoming inactive.

And no body, no matter how carefully kept alive, no matter how well it was paused in time, be that through ice or psychic power, lasted forever.

Then again, maybe Norma was overthinking it. It felt like she was right on the verge of a conclusion, right at the edge of an answer that would satisfy her misgivings. But she’d felt this feeling before, and she hadn’t always been right.

It was just a theory, after all. None of the brains in Otto’s collection had truly stopped working (yet, some part of Norma’s brain supplied), so it could very well be possible that any psychic brain, no matter how long since the body’s death, could be kept going with enough stimulus. And stealing new bodies throughout history should certainly qualify as more than enough stimulus.

Furthermore, the memories Raz saw? They could have been fabricated. It wasn’t hard to create a false memory vault—it could even be done unintentionally; memories were very malleable things.

But Norma could feel that twinge in her gut that told her she was missing something. That itchy heat under her scalp that said to pay attention to every detail lest she miss the crucial puzzle piece.

Norma huffed, setting aside the cap she’d been stress-knitting. The senior agents were already working on tracking the imposter down. Anything she did towards that end would either get in the way or be unnecessary.

She barely even knew Dion. She’d prodded him, before, on his beliefs about psychics, but beyond that she saw fit to ignore the acrobat. The feeling had been mutual.

But Dion was Raz’ brother, and Norma could admit to caring about the kid. She’d known Raz for more than a year, now—it would be childish to claim indifference, at this point.

The urge to get involved and investigate battled the desire to stay out of things that weren’t her business, to not be a problem. Should she dig deeper into what was bothering her, in the hopes of answers? Or would doing so get in the way of what was already being handled?

As usual, it was hardly a fight.

+=+=+=+=+

Adam was searching the cabinets in the communal kitchen for the pancake mix when Norma found him, clearing her throat to get his attention.

He turned to face her. “Hey.”

Norma inclined her head in greeting, then—

“I need your help with something.”

Adam’s eyebrows raised. It wasn’t often that Norma asked for help. “What did you need?”

Norma wrung her hands to dispel some excess energy. “You’re better with history than I am.” She started. “And something about the memory vault Raz described has been bothering me.”

Adam pulled out his yoyo, toying with the strings. “Let’s start with what’s been bothering you, then.”

Norma moved to sit at the table. “The first slide Raz described. With the soldier. Where would you date it?”

“Hmm,” Adam contemplated as he moved to sit across from her. “I’ve only got Raz’ description to go off of, and I’m not well-researched in every period of history, but…” He made a cat’s cradle with the mental string between his fingers, his yoyo spinning just above the surface of the table.

“The formation Raz described sounds a lot like a phalanx.” Adam offered, his yoyo reversing direction. “Commonly used in Ancient Greek warfare.” Which was definitely not his area of expertise.

Norma hummed, considering. “What about the weaponry? Would that tell us anything?”

Adam winced. “We’d have to do some research for that.” He fiddled with the strings of his yoyo. “I’m not exactly an expert on ancient weaponry.”

“That’s fair.” Norma responded. Her brow furrowed, mouth pressed into a thin line.

Adam switched the mental string from cat’s cradle to Jacob’s ladder, letting his yoyo spin a few inches forwards before reeling it back in.

“Adam…” Norma began, “How long do you think a brain can last without a body?”

Adam stilled.

“That’s… a good question.” He said slowly. If the brain in question was really as old as the memory vault claimed, then—

Then why was it still around?

Norma shifted. “There’s something else.” She started. “If the imposter murdered the previous body, then—”

“Then there might be a path we could follow.” Adam concluded, wheels spinning rapidly in his head. If they could identify the path, they could trace it back, figure out how the imposter operated.

Norma nodded, clasping her hands together atop the table. “The senior agents are busy trying to find the imposter.” She offered. “I say we figure out who, exactly, this imposter is.”

Adam grinned. “Then let’s get to work.”

#psychonauts #zaz writes #buried beneath au #morris martinez #sam boole #lili zanotto #gisu nerumen #lizzie natividad #norma natividad #adam joseph gette #razputin aquato #tw murder mention #did i do the interns justice?#i sure hope so!#either way #plot is moving forwards >:]#also about the murder:#arc is a little bitch okay #he's lived for more than 2000 years so ofc he is

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