Aquaphobia
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WARNING: There will be a MalexMale romance in this fanfiction, concerning the persons of Razputin Aquato and Sasha Nein. If you dislike this kind of romance, Do Not Read, Do Not Think About Reading It, and Do Not Review Harshly. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but I've heard enough and I don't want to hear anymore.
There may be mild swearing, but nothing much, I'm not a fan of cussers.
I do NOT own any of the characters in this story, they belong to Tim Schafer and the fine companies that have produced this amazing videogame.
It's been seven years since the incident that gave Razputin Aquato his Psychonaut status. As a teen going into young adulthood, he's taken up work at Whispering Rocks Summer Camp, loving to have been here opposed to being at the circus all year round, it's an oppurtunity he won't give up. Razputin works with new responsibilities and new campers, or Psi-cadets.
All the while, he's learning of a love he's never felt before for an older man, or perhaps something that's always been there, and just grew from mild admiration to hopeless devotion. Of course, he's learning to get along with other people such as the cadets he supervises, trains, and messes around with, all the while trying to survive day to day love with the other part-time counselors who he's been battling with since they were campers themselves.
Summer has never been better, and with all its ups and downs, he enjoys the friendships he has with the other agents, and even the little sprouts he's in charge of via the boys' cabins. Even when they do all abuse their pyrokinesis, and get him in absolute trouble.
However, a fateful day when he's left alone in charge of over twenty campers, things can go horribly wrong, terribly fast, when you're not expecting it.
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"...-ey, no! Get back here!"
It took only seconds for his concentration to break-- an event Agent Nein would probably be very unhappy to hear about-- but just as fast, the control was regained. A raging inferno of fire dying down to a hiss of smoke in that instant. Due to the chaos of a student, Nayte Diimehnlife, a group of fourteen eleven year olds sat in a heap of dizzied mess. And oh boy, the Psychonaut standing above the group was going to get in a world of trouble for it, if they still had their minds in tact.
Being abruptly ripped away from his own, it was lucky enough his sanity still teetered on perfection.
Bright, grassy eyes glanced at the collection, worry actually consuming him whole for a good couple of seconds, until they all stopped spinning in wild circles like rogue tops, at least. Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn! With a quick snap of his neck, the mentor glanced back, catching a glimpse of the brunette-headed twerp vanishing behind a nearby set of trees. He couldn't really just run off by himself, could he? That could be seriously, seriously, bad.
"Stay here!" In a state of panic, the teenager abandoned his charges with the command, taking off with wings on his feet down the pathway that was only leading deeper into the dense forest. It wasn't hard to locate the boy, thankfully, the psychic energy bouncing out with no place to go in its own free, panicking state. But that kid was fast, and it wasn't their first time going out like this, to put it. Oh good, at least Nayte knew he was in trouble, but it wasn't good for him to run off like this-- There could be bears out here!
Sneakers and pant legs were soon caked with mud in his trek, as he followed obvious footprints out of the flourishing greenery and through the goop of the bog. Up one hill, down another, tripping over that root and ducking below this overhanging branch-- It was a good hard chase, but at last satisfaction was met as padded digits sunk into the cloth of an identifiable jacket. Those fingers were wound so tightly in the fabric, it almost looked like his knuckles had turned white, right through his gloves.
Easing the child to an immediate stop, the older male fixated a hard, cold gaze upon the youth. His once bright eyes narrowing to darkened slits, irritation seeping into the air. It was more than evident how much trouble the young Psi-cadet was in, and it was visible in those dark-coloured eyes that he knew it. He could even see the regret staring right back at him, and it was satisfying, in a way.
"Never, ever, do that again." The elitist warned, pulling the child back, and hooking his other hand around a quaking arm for a better grip. Time to go.
It was quite the catastrophe. A lesson in Pyrokinesis, one that he was given special permission to direct the class after many, many, long hours of preparation and accommodating. The plain of his mind was finally considered 'child safe', circus tents littered throughout the jungle, no leftover signs of emotional baggage or vaults full of secrets, mutilated bunnies nonexistent; indeed, he was trained well for this.
It was just that he wasn't trained for kid-care. Although he had been working at the camp for the past two years, he didn't give lessons alone, or rather, wasn't allowed to very often, and usually it was a less-then-most-likely harmless subject, like Levitation or even Clairvoyance.
But this particular ability was a big deal around here, for its harmful use. And for the last two weeks he traded work time with Agent Vodello, (from anything too time-consuming for him, like patrolling the grounds, taking out bears, collecting Psitanium, for anything like kitchen duty, or working the camp shop) so he could re-explore his own head in the free time of it, lock everything up, and all around be absolutely sure his inner-world was safe enough to explore.
After a thorough examination by Agent Cruller, it was confirmed that he was good to go, without supervision. He better not screw this up!
Guess what? Somehow, he managed to do just that, in a big, horrifying way.
After drawing the curious minds of Psychonauts-to-Be into his own, he allowed the privilege of the most well-used and classic training technique of psychic abilities: Giving a quick tutorial, then letting little kids run around his head aimlessly and, hopefully, understand how to use the power of Pyrokinesis by hitting the appropriate, set-up targets. It seemed like they were doing pretty well, it wasn't their first time inside someone's mind, so hope was pretty good for them.
However, exactly twenty-six minutes into the class, all hope was truly lost. The second a misplaced rabbit, (if Nein ever heard about this, he'd get the boot) which hadn't ceased to exist in his jungle of a head, was burnt instantly to a crisp. This seemed to be the cue for all children to set anything they wanted on fire, and before he knew it, every tree and every tent went down in smoke. As one group who were already ahead in the test panicked, he snapped each and every mental figure right out of there.
It was probably too quick, too unexpected, and he would be lucky if they could still remember their names by the time he got back to them.
So now he had to run as fast as he could after the spare lamb, really quite truly hating how they had made this new rule at the camp. By say so of Agent Cruller, they were asked to insist and reinforce the idea of not using your abilities at every given chance for the second year and above campers. This fact, was carefully programmed into each working counselor and agent's mind, pounding it down to not be forgotten. So much so, that he had already grown used to climbing trees on his own all the time, rather than levitate. And to follow along this irking rule, he had to chase down this trouble maker on foot and get a hold of him, somehow.
Good thing he was always a fast kid.
"We're going to Oleander, you twerp. I've had enough of this from you all summer!" Three weeks into the summer, and it was already heck from this boy. After a moment of begging and pleading, he felt a more satisfied smirk twist onto his face accidentally, as he 'led' the boy away by the arm. It was okay, he always told himself loosely; he didn't have to behave all the time, he was younger than all of the other teachers. A teenager, and as such he justified that sometimes he picked on the kids, but normally just the ones that had no trouble picking on him.
Strolling back to the campgrounds felt a lot easier than running away from it, when he wasn't gasping for breath and searching in a frenzy. It was nice to relax, staring lazily at the forestry and the cracks of blue sky: Yeah, camp was amazing. It had to be, considering he stayed for seven years.
Although he was certified a Psychonaut at age ten, he stayed around in camp, going on the occasional mission when called on. Truthfully, he stayed to hone his skills, taking up time with Agent Sasha Nein, the tutor he devoted himself to, to make every ability precise in their actions. He liked that he could spend a few months away from the circus too, and just take the train back to wherever they roamed without him.
It took virtually forever for summer to come back around each year, by then.
About two years ago, upon a casual invitation from Agent Vodello: "Wouldn't it be fun if you worked here?~" he did ask to work here as he got older, rather than go into missions all the time for when he became an adult. It was a surprise from the young prodigy, for his talent to be 'wasted' on something so inferior, compared to saving the world, that is. But it was what he really wanted, really, really wanted, and somehow that was enough (his skills, of course, seemed to help) to give him the job and a permanent bunk.
Indeed, the brilliant mind was given the chore of taking care of the boys' cabins.
To work at the very camp he saved from utter destruction years ago was something he took with great pride, and it was a joy to spend time around persons who felt the same as he did, minds that worked the same as his, activities and games (like The Great Bounce) he could participate in and have a mind-blowingly fun time. Which, he found, was a perfect term for the occasion.
Interrupted from his thoughts, he faintly recalled his name being called.
"Aquato! Raz! You bugger... Hey! Raz! You even listenin'!?" Blinking away his confusion, the teen smiled lop-sidedly, pushing Nayte closer to the near beet-red Coach Oleander. It took next to no time to deposit the trouble-maker in the man's care, explaining the story along the way as they walked back down to the camp grounds from Oleander's 'perch', of sorts.
During their discussion about the class, about his own personal technique and the behavior of the other children, the teenager's mind drifted. It was so weird he found, to be addressed in his family name the older he got, rather than his first, for a majority of the time. It was almost depressing, the way it reminded him of being an acrobat more.
However, almost only one person called him by his first, one hundred percent of the time. And even so, it was his full first name, which, when he was a child, he never really liked much. Preferring that they called him by his nickname, the first three letters, 'Raz'. But whenever he said it, it didn't sound so weird. His name only ever sounded good to him when leaving those lips.
'Razputin,' Sasha would say, almost devoid of emotion. Controlled. But if he was angered, there was that certain force, that slight emphasis on the 'pu', as if he was trying to cut it out of the air with the sharpness of his annoyance. How when he was disappointed, he sighed and the 'in' was drawn out, slowed down.
It may have seemed creepy, to anyone in their right mind, how fascinated he was by the sound. But it was, bizarrely enough, just that special for him to hear it, how special it was that only the german said his name in such a way, and so he took extra care to pay attention every time it was uttered.
"Then, where are your other cadets?"
"Cadets, sir?" Absent-minded again, he found himself. He had to snap out of these certain bouts of practical 'day-dreaming'.
"The rest of your class, Aquato." The younger Psychonaut couldn't recall the last time he turned a further shade of pale. "Where are they?" Oh, crap! He hadn't actually left them alone in that clearing, did he? Apparently, memory seemed to serve that he had, in fact, deserted the children that had been placed personally in his care. Perfect, he was wracking up quite an impressive bill for Agent Nein to look over later.
"Uhm..." Fidgeting, leafy eyes took a glance at the railing, then off in the distance in the supposed direction of his charges. "I've gotta' go, coach!" Swiftly, gloved hands met the bar, and in one effortless motion, he was up and over. Falling away from the sputtering confusion of Oleander, the boy revelled in the feeling of gravity pulling him downward, as the length of his open coat caught in the air around him.
It was almost a magical feeling. His stomach jumped into his chest, his heart to his throat and the oxygen right out of his lungs. Arms outstretched above his head, holding onto absolutely nothing at all as he all-over enjoyed the feeling of letting go, for this instant that took a lifetime to describe. Wild, like fire, red hair whipped aimlessly at his face, whatever that wasn't secured back by the pair of goggles that is.
Those silly goggles, that he still liked to wear around camp, when he didn't have to wear his Psychonaut uniform. Now, that wasn't to say he didn't like it. He felt great pride in the uniform, that he earned it, but it grew boring to wear, the novelty wearing off. Bit by bit, he changed one thing to the next until the only thing remaining of the look was that he didn't wear his helmet-like hat. His new outfit was his favourite, and wore practically all the time, depending on the weather and occasion and dirt status, of course.
He couldn't just wear it filthy, but was prone to stand by the camp washing machine until that nasty stain came out.
A long, midnight-shaded coat draped over his frame, replicating Sasha Nein shamelessly. However, high up on the back, decorating the lines of his shoulder plates, was every single patch he earned at camp, sown delicately into place in the same pattern he had on his sack once. Never would he get rid of these, each a great accomplishment he would never forget.
A burnt orange sweater below this, hugged at his frame cozily, but was loose enough for him to breathe and possibly grow into it a bit more. This seemed to be a never-ending fad at camp, these unnecessarily-warm sweaters. Beneath, plain, loose black jeans: because they were on sale, durable, his size, and the store was closing in two minutes. To complete this 'look', of course, were worn, padded brown gloves, and sneakers that had been worn so often in the dirt, you couldn't really define that green from this purple.
Of course, he did change depending on the weather, like deadly heat-wave afternoons, casual supervising, formal parties, insanely themed parties hosted by Milla-- but this was all random information that didn't really have any place to be.
It was, perhaps, a twenty, twenty-six foot drop to the ground from here; but not a blade of grass was disturbed as he landed soundlessly, the aid of a faint orange glow halting him from bone-shattering impact. One foot slowly planted itself on the ground, accompanied by its brother, before deciding without a seconds notice on a race together back to the open meadow he had left his assigned cadets in.
Passing through the main campsite, he was almost caught not once, but twice, by both Agent Vodello and Agent Cruller. It was a close call, but he managed to sneak back away, barely escaping their questions by the skin of his teeth. But he knew from the second he had seen Vodello, she knew, and he knew she knew, and he knew she knew he knew she was going to tell on him, to the the original care-taker of his group for the day, Sasha Nein, and there was no way he could stop her.
With a groan of displeasure from this knowledge, he pushed his way through the last of the brush and branches, standing at the edge of the lovely, slightly charcoaled clearing. Hoping beyond hope the kids were all still there, and only peeking one eye open to check. Dejectedly, his shoulders slumped, and it took all the will in the world to keep him from turning right back around to those four bears he encountered before he got here. There, standing in the middle of his field, in the middle of his mess, his responsibility, his cadets, was Agent Sasha Nein.
He didn't look very happy, not really, not at all. Nope.
Standing there with his arms crossed, Sasha looked quite fierce, and he didn't even display so much as a frown. Even through those sunglasses, you could feel how much trouble you were in. It's enough to make one wish they could join the circus, or go back to it, and never, ever, come back. Suddenly nervous, the teen despised how much he suddenly felt like a little kid, but with that almost had enough childishness to run away-- The conflict in his head was the only thing keeping him rooted to the spot.
"Razputin."
Startled, said boy nearly jumped. Holding up firm eye contact with the man across the field, keeping his knees from giving out with the strength of the gaze. Oh no, what was he going to do? What was he going to say? 'It's not my fault!' Not taking responsibility was, well, irresponsible. And highly frowned upon. 'I ditched them for the bad apple, the bears don't go to the field so...' No, he shouldn't have let it get out of control at all. 'I screwed up?' Much, much too honest.
From where he was standing, the red-head passed off a goofy, awkward, possibly apologetic smile and lifted his hand to give a small wave, wiggling his fingers nervously. The campers were so quiet, too quiet, but they looked like they were in their right mind, (or someone's who they liked, he could barely tell) so it couldn't be too bad, rig---
"Razputin."
Called on a second time, the acrobat automatically, and obediently walked forward with a strong stride. This kind of thing hasn't happened to him for almost three or four years, and the tension alone between the two was intense enough for him to feel as old as the persons surrounding his mentor. Coming to a standstill, shy a few feet before the older agent, the ex-teacher looked up, (up, because Sasha was at least a head taller than him and he wanted so much to grow those extra inches now) and tried to keep a straight, calm face.
He really, though, couldn't hold his emotions like the man before him. Hard as he tried, he found it too irresistible to smile a lot, but you can't just pick one emotion to keep, it's all or nothing, as he learned. Life wasn't the same without all of them, he didn't feel the same without all of them, and so, gave himself the will to feel- under control, of course, most of the time, usually... Kind of.
Shifting from foot to foot, emerald orbs darted from side to side, checking the eyes of every kid within seeing distance. Seeing this identical look in every single set, one that sing-songed 'you're in trou-blllle', he confirmed for himself that they were doing perfectly fine. Returning his eyes to the one who concerned him the most, he anxiously began to nibble on his bottom lip, abusing the fragile pink flesh. Why did Sasha's brow have to be furrowed like that? So irritated?
"Not keeping proper control of the campers, have a camper run off on you, and then abandoning the other campers-- Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?" A small, noticeable pause. More of a hesitation, really, as though the superior agent didn't know what to do. The teenager was almost tempted to give a smart-assed 'Yes', but he really didn't need to dig a deeper grave at that point.
"They could have gotten hurt, physically and mentally, so I do believe I'll have to take this responsibility away for awhile, and no more lessons will be taught by you." With a memorized action, Sasha Nein had pulled out his infamous cigarette pack from his pocket, carelessly placing the small, rolled up tube of tobacco between his lips. Just as quickly, the pack, one ounce lighter, was placed back in its assigned pocket. "It'll just be safer, for the campers, and for you."
This was the worst. The Psychonaut could just feel his heart sinking, knowing that he had let Nein and possibly, the entire camp down. But, he did say for awhile, didn't he? Perking up slightly, hopeful, greenland orbs turned their gaze upward, watching noiselessly as the cigarette was lit, seemingly by itself. But really, it was the ability he had just attempted to teach to this group of cadets, only executed far, far more skillfully.
"Alright?"
"Okay, Sasha."
"Now, take them back to camp, the mess hall specifically. It's almost dinner time, correct?"
"Yeah." At ease, the younger man nodded in his response, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. After instructing and gathering up his little Psychonauts-To-Be, he marched them back through the density of the forest, parting ways with Agent Nein. Luckily enough, they hadn't run into the telekinetic predators he had encountered earlier, but something told the counselor that a certain agent had gone ahead and taken care of them.
Returning to the main path, he strolled along idly, keeping himself a few feet behind the chattering group. It was more than beyond funny, the scene that unfolded before him in mere moments on their walk back. Smoking, fluffy tails of the primary wildlife; squirrels, would burst into spontaneous flame. More than one at a time, more than one time, and the little squeaky cries drowned out in the forest as they scampered away frantically.
Oh, sure, he probably shouldn't have let it happen. But after the first little critter to be harassed ran off, silently encouraging the other children to cause the same hectic response from many little critters, he made them swear an oath of silence. This one time, they could have fun and screw around and he'd take the blame if they got caught, but if someone told, they would be in serious summer camp hell.
Uproarious laughter boomed from the entire group, bordering hysterical, as they made their way past benches and other happy-go-lucky campers in groups with assigned counselors, to the mess hall. It only barely died into random giggles by the time they actually got there, leaving each of them perfectly hungery and impatient for dinner to begin. The young agent especially, feeling as though he had more than his fair share of exercise for the day.
Exhausted, he twisted through and around the tables, absently patting a kid on the head here and there, as he passed by. Annoyed faces were shot at him, rude expressions given and tongues stuck out, but would he just return the motion, trying not to laugh his way to the unofficial counselor-taken table. Closest to the stairs, more to supervise than anything, as if anyone was sneaking off to watch the camp's only television set when they shouldn't.
Agent Vodello was usually here, unless she had some other work to do, and sometimes on occasion Nein was, too. That was, when he didn't just make himself something in his lab, which was more than never-- Lucky him, no loud noise or the static of chatting children to interrupt his eating.
"Hey, Milla," The red-head murmured, nearly dropping himself onto the bench beside his female superior, only to proceed to slump up against her in his tiredness. With a high laugh, she exchanged the greeting and they started their friendly casualties, discussing the work of the day and smiling, laughing, and overall visually owning their status as the two most relaxed counselors there.
Milla Vodello was an amazing friend, always there for him and always up for fun. They had grown used to be around eachother, when the cold exterior of Sasha Nein became too much to bear, and the energy of a happy soul was deeply in need. They had amazing trust with eachother, and the teen felt like he could talk to her about anything. Well, except today, where there loomed the high possibility she ratted him out to her partner in crime, or, rather, partner in justice.
"I completely messed up today, you know, but now I'm starving and don't really care." It should be dinnertime soon, the hastily increasing number of little ones rushing into the hall and stealing seats by their friends was evidence enough of the fact. Maybe they would be having hamburgers today, or some kind of finger food, it would be good to just wolf it down and go to bed right now.
"I know, Raz, but we don't improve without making mistakes, darling." They both laughed at this logic, knowing far too well the truth in it. It was relaxing and joyful, their hang-out time, and perhaps he could convince her to let him load the kids off on her for bed early tonight, if all went well.
"I know you're right, Milla, but I hope to improve so much so that I won't have to make those kind of mistakes..." The loud, static-y sound of audio-taped bells rang out in the speakers, causing the majority of cadets to cringe and cover their ears. Dinner was now in session, and with no sight of Sasha Nein, he was going to have a better chance of getting out of the bed watch tonight. However, it did mean he'd have to start some kind of conversation with the other spare counselors here.
That always sucked.
Vodello was kind of enough to get a tray for him, along with dinner on top of it, much to his delight. As other similar aged persons sat around him, poking fun at his mishap, or encouraging him. Making some sort of small talk he didn't feel like participating in. How, distracted, the prodigy suspiciously poked the food-type items with the edge of his fork. The dish appeared to be of creamed corn, purple, creamed corn, mashed potatoes (in the form of not being mashed at all, but certainly not a baked potato) and this strange-looking meat thing.
After a more serious observation, he wasn't quite so hungery anymore. "...This looks like a squirrel." No wonder Nein hadn't shown up.
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Hello there! My name is Eliett.
Here is the first chapter of my first fanfiction, on here, that is. This storyline has been buzzing in my head for weeks, and in the middle of the night, (about 2 : 30 ish) I finally got up to write it. I think such an amazing genre is perfect for my first fanfiction here, and I hope to add onto it more, otherwise it'll seem like such a flop.
Constructive reviews are welcomed, kind of, as long as you're not being super jerky about it I guess. I'm very happy with my writing style and the way this chapter came out altogether, and hopefully I can keep in sync when I move onto chapter two, which, hopefully, should come out this week.
I'd love a nice, thoughtful review, that consists of more than two sentences. The more nice reviews I get, the more inspired I'll be to write this out~
I worked hard to provide the personalities of the characters, but also mature Razputin a little. It'll be a serious fanfiction, splattered with humour of course, in reflection of the game. I want to provide the elements of the game as much as possible, as well as my own, extra splashes of fantasy, and new creativeness.
In case you're all wondering, yes, it's a SashaxRazputin fic. Razputin is seventeen, which should be a more appropiate age, so back off a touch.
Secondly, Nayte Diimehnlife is a name claimed by myself, however, this is no special Original Character of any kind and only one of the few, specially mentioned campers I will scatter throughout the fanfiction as cameos for my friends.
Thanks for reading this, and the fanfiction. I hoped you like it, will follow my works, and hopefully stick around for the next couple of chapters.
EDIT: I fixed some things up for the follow chapter, shouldn't really be noticed, though.
Toodles, Elliett.
NO SQUIRRELS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS FANFICTION.