Chapter 1:

In which Razputin learns that corny lines of dialogue are better left unsaid, and that some hair-do chairs can be sinister.

Razputin found himself flung down as Boris's bony fingers twisted into telekinetic shapes, finally making a pulling motion and flinging Raz across the tiny office. Oleander hid behind the desk readying his psy-blasts while Milla Vodello and Sasha Nien attempted to block Boris's mind. The mastermind laughed as he countered all of these attempts. The team had been fighting the word renowned villain Boris Murgrundo for over thirty minutes now, after discovering his location upon destroying one of his bombs. Yes, so far it had been a standard Psychonaut mission, and to be honest, Raz was still excited by the whole thing.

Maybe it'd be best if I explained. You're probably all sitting there going 'what on earth is going on between these characters that sound like species of turnip and one Russian circus elephant?' If you're not, then read on anyway. It's good for the unknown to be known. That, and I have a train to catch at five. Anyway, Raz was once an ordinary psychic-hated by humanity, distrusted by his family. At least, that's what he'd thought. He'd run away from his circus home to escape the harsh training he had been put under, and ended up at a camp for psychics. It's not every day that you not only make many friends, but also end up stumbling upon a plot to enslave humanity. It's best not to get too into it-It did involve a man who thought he was an arsonist milkman and a turtle who thought he was Barry White. To cut a long story short, reconciliation with his father had finally earned him acceptance as a Psychonaut-something he had always dreamed of. It was the kind of thing all young boys dreamed of, to be a hero of any kind. He was sad to be frequently leaving the camp (Except for the gravy. Raz knew that if there was ever a time in the lodge he would never miss, it was the copious amounts of gravy the absent minded Cruller would pour onto the steaks…and desert. Gravy ice cream was not a particularly pleasant experience, and neither was later learning that the gravy was not gravy after all…well; I did say that Cruller was absent minded, but moving swiftly on. Actually, it's quite fun to get involved with most of the dialogue as the author now. Perhaps I'll write a book. But getting back to the subject of Razputin and being a Psychonaut.) The missions had been coming in steadily, what with the Psychonauts back in action after the betrayal by one of their own teammates. And why was Raz enjoying it so much? Simple: not only was he working with his heroes, but he was also fighting against some of his favourite villains.

"Nice try, Psycho-freaks," scoffed Boris, " but my blocking techniques far surpass yours. You don't think I trained myself to block every move and power in those frozen wastes for nothing did you?" He gave an evil laugh as Sasha covered his face with his free hand, and Milla nodded in agreement.

"You know, darling, if there's one thing I'll never get used to is those good old villainous monologues."

"Hey!" Yelled Boris, lowering his hands onto his hips, "I have to fill my time somehow. Or would you rather we just fought each other in silence? All the cool comic-books have them, like issue 51 of true psychic…" He gasped as agent Cruller, who'd proceeded to tie up the villain in invisible knots, quickly gave him a hefty kick up the backside.

"Don't suppose I'll ever get used to their hineys getting' kicked to Alabama neither!" The Psychonauts laughed as Raz rubbed his aching head. So much for 'a piece of the action'. Boris had looked so easy to beat in the hallowed pages of true psychic tales. Why now did he choose to run at the problem recklessly? Still, the time had to be used for congratulations now, so he picked himself up and joined his teammates. Boris lay on the floor, groaning relentlessly.

"To think I almost got away with ruining the presidency," He sighed, "And I would have done it too, if it weren't for you meddling psychics and your useless soldier over there!"

Oleander peeped from behind the desk, "Yeah…well…at least I gave …uhh…psychic support! A few more minutes and you would have been sneezing out your brain like…" He sank behind the desk as agent Cruller approached him.

"Now, now," said Cruller Sternly, "What did we say about making people sneeze out their brains?" Now Oleander was standing away from the desk, his hands behind his back and his face looking at the ground as he kicked his heels awkwardly.

"That taking peoples brains, good or bad, is wrong," He recited monotonously, "Especially making them sneeze it out, and especially young children. And it's especially bad to get caught…I mean, to do it at all." He looked up and smiled as Cruller gave him thumbs up.

Now, for those of you who don't know, Oleander was once a young boy who was forced to watch his butcher father slaughter his young pets for meat. I suppose it's what comes with the inflation of income tax and a whale of bills to pay. To this day, for all we know, the father Oleander knew could have been a hardworking man who often scared his son psychologically. Anyway, the best thing to imagine is that Oleander was a bit of a Sassenach (A Scottish word for non-kilt wearers. No, I'm not Scots, but Oleander may secretly be. Or not. Whatever floats your boat. ) Any way, after being rejected from the army, young Morry grew personal demons (Yes, you can grow them, just like potatatoes) and began detailing plans to rule the world. Not recommended when you're a thirty-year-old camp coach who enslaves lungfish and dreams of eggs. But these things happen. Anyway, listen to me drone on. Back to the story.

Oleander now rushed over to the gang who watched him in a confused way as he kicked Boris and put his foot on his head. "Well done, Psychonauts! I never thought I'd…I mean we'd do it." Sasha and Milla gave each other shrugs as Oleander attempted to carry Boris to the Jet. Ford felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned round to see a worried Raz pointing towards a door. As Ford went over to investigate, Sasha, Milla and Oleander gave yelps of pain and clutched their foreheads. Ford had already opened the door, but he quickly turned round and cut off his comrades psychic connections. They fell to their knees, panting heavily. Raz was looking extremely confused.

"Okay," His face turned to Cruller, "What just happened?" Cruller pointed inside to the room, his face now serious. Inside was the president of Psychic affairs, bound and gagged, in the middle of the dustiest and dirtiest room Raz had ever seen. Junk lay on either side of the walls, each seemingly sorted into pots, pans, basins and the like. Cruller ran forward to untie the President while Raz inspected the room. He soon spotted what had made his comrades wince in psychic pain-an antennae, attached to an object buried under the pile. Raz had already recognised it-an instigator, as depicted back at the camp in Oleanders latest training. He used his psi blast to destroy it instantly. He was just about to return to the group, when an even stronger force took control in his mind, bringing him to his knees. The pain was unbearable. As it subsided, he turned in the direction of the force to see a door half covered by the junk. Approaching it, he noticed the sign 'Psychic affairs lab-keep out.' Raz decided it would be best to ignore this and began to turn the handle. He suddenly found himself lifted into the air as Ford Cruller used his telekinesis to hoist the boy into the air. Raz was struggling frantically. "Let me go!" He cried, "I can do this myself, you don't know what's down there!"

"First, young Razputin," Lectured Cruller, "That powerful force is far too strong for you to be dealing with, and second...I do know what it is." And Raz was lifted out into the main office. He looked on as the rest of the team grabbed Boris and took him out into the jet.

The sun was setting as Raz sat on a log back at the camp, his head in his hands, thinking about what could have been down in that lab. It wasn't fair that he couldn't see it-he was a fully-fledged Psychonaut, after all. Lili and Doegen were too busy on the camp outing with the annual Psychic tour band (The Psycosausage) to talk to him, so he sat and consoled himself. He suddenly noticed Ford Cruller give him a wave, motioning for him to come over. Raz did, and Cruller pointed to the inside of the jet. Raz followed Ford. Inside was the hull of the jet, and right in the middle was a strange contraption. It looked like a hair-do device, a chair with a dish attachment that would obviously be placed over the head of the one who would sit in the chair. The constraints and straps suggested some kind of torture, and the metallic framing made it look like an electric chair. A large R was imprinted on the dish in the middle of two lights (Now deactivated) that resembled two sinister eyes. Cruller bent to Raz's height and looked him squarely in the eye.

"Now Razputin, I know that Boris is a slightly unpredictable and annoying foe..."

"Yeah," Interrupted Raz, "I guess that's what happens when your mother treats you like a poodle and you gain a fondness for biting cats tails and get schizophrenia and join the criminal organization S.H.E.E.P (Supervillainous haters evading every Psychonaut)."

"Yes, yes, that all helps." Cruller shook his head and continued. "But you tried your best, just as you have against most of our foes that you've faced so far. But this...this... monster of a machine stands for something far worse...it was part of a project. Something called the Rabooki project. Come here a minute," He sat Raz down next to him. "During the seventies, the Rabooki project was set up. Some...people weren't too happy with the amount of Psychic activity going ion in the world. This was something I've sworn never to ever fully talk about again, so you'll just have to live with what you know for now. Soon it won't even matter and...Hey? What are you doing in my lodge? Now Get!" Raz sighed. The psitanium strapped to the old mans back had worn off, and Cruller had reverted to one of his other personalities. Raz left to the camps, while Ford attempted to find his broom.

Oleander paced up and down Sashas lab, mumbling to himself. Sasha and Milla stood around the supercomputer, wondering what their next action should be.

"Well, we can't let the Psychic Governmental department know about this. The last time we reported a false Rabooki situation every Psychic on the planet nearly went public. Not to mention the paperwork awaiting us on our return."

It's true ladies and gentlemen. A couple of years ago, there had been a fallout with the government on the subject of Psychics. Many had gotten nose jobs to disguise a few wee things (Again, I'm not Scots…maybe a tiny bit.) To once again cut a long story short, Sasha had returned from a mission to discover a high level of psychic activity being uprooted (To go public) and had to sort the whole problem. It was he who had been forced to do the paperwork, and he wasn't exactly planning on doing five-hundred useless essays on cows again. Would you?

"If what you're saying is true, darling" said Milla thoughtfully, " Then what are we supposed to do? What if it really is as powerful as the original thing? Who do we tell? And what if we have to leave, who would look after the children? I mean, you do remember the last time..."

"I heard that!" Oleander had now stopped pacing and was pointing accusingly at Milla. " I've learnt my lesson! Besides, I trust the Psychic governmental department about as much as I trusted my dad-I wouldn't put anything past them. It's not unheard of for corruption to take control, y'know. They could have taken possession of the machine for private usage. I think we should..."

"Nothing." The three looked up to see that Ford now had a recharged pack of Psitanium on his back, and was standing with a stern look in his eye, something they had never seen before. "Nothing is going to happen. The machine has been locked away in my base, where we will never talk of it or see it again. It's bad enough that I had to endure seeing it being used back in the seventies, and I never want to see it in those hands again. We move on, we shape up, we swallow our pride. Now, Sasha, I want you to get Sheegor to see me-I need to lay down a few ground rules about using that room and protecting it." And with that, he walked up the stairs to the exit. Oleander turned to the others and tapped his head.

"Guy's as paranoid as a mongoose. Not that mongeese get paranoid, but, y'know...dislodged one too many pieces of Psitanium with his head." Mongeese? Not paranoid? You'd be surprised young Oly…(Actually, Oleander has a gripping fear of Mongoose. Gets it from his dad.)

"Unfortunately, he's right," Sighed Milla, "But he keeps forgetting that he's not the only one who had problems with the Rabooki project. I mean, they commissioned every psychic child in the country and…" She trailed off, staring at the floor. Sasha nodded and handed her some coffee, leading her out of the lab. Oleander quickly looked from side to side to make sure nobody else was around, and grabbed the Psy-com-link. He tapped out a message and left the machine on as he ran out of the room to follow the others. The machine continued to hum, until a strange buzz sounded. Lights sparked. The buttons flashed across the keyboard, as it to form a pair of evil eyes... and then the machine went dead. And that, my dear readers, is something we should all be afraid of…..