Chapter 1: The Dorm Guys

Disclaimer: I don't own Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, or some of the places, titles, and objects, but I do own the storyline, which I'm really, really having a good time with.

Rated T for the kinds of "adult themes" that immature middle or high schoolers might joke about, plus a couple of bad words that are mild compared to what you might hear in a day at my middle school. Baisically, it's as bad a rap song.

I do mean to use paragraph format. Just clearing that up before you start writing mail. That's what everyone mentioned in my last story, so… here's this one.

Sasha looked at the door, then at the piece of paper in his hand. Same number, but completely different from how he'd thought it would be. He inspected the door handle. That was "Sillystring," all right. He turned his key in the lock, sighed, and entered the room. The two psychic men inside turned to stare at him. One had light blonde, straight, slightly mussed hair and hazelly-brown eyes. The other had brown hair and green eyes. They were in mid-air, they looked like they'd been in a bit of a tousle, and they were completely surprised to see him. They were supposed to have been warned that he was coming…

"I'm Sasha Nein…" They stared at him blankly. "Your new dormitory partner."

"The brunette one (is that a masculine adjective, or just feminine?) spoke first. "The 'hot, blonde, German chick who was going to change your sex life forever'? I kept thinking, 'Oh, Joey's read her file. I'll bet he knows everything about her.' But I guess I was wrong." At that, they began wrestling again. Sasha went to his room, the only one that wasn't in complete chaos.

He was just finishing setting up his desk, feeling doomed already, hoping that he could get a transfer to a different dorm. You only had to be in one dorm for a week. The Psychonauts knew that in some people, familiarity can only breed hatred, and it's worse with Psychonauts. He was just beginning to get a little bit of delight at the idea of a transfer when the two sophomoric idiots (sophomoric is like dumb, in an inappropriate way) came in. He cast shields in front of them, just for fun. If asked about it, he could just say that he was testing their reflexes. While they were recovering, he stuck his psitanium earplugs into his ears. It would protect both his brain and his ears from their moronic ideas. The blonde one, Joey, snuck up behind him (this is the untrained Sasha, remember) and pulled them out of his ears. "There's a dance over the roof tonight. There's great stereo up there. You should come. You could meet girls. That's what Mike and I are doing." "But only if they're hot," the brown-haired Mike put in. "So," said the fair-haired Joey, "You coming?" "I don't dance. And I refuse to think of women as objects. My mother was second-in-command of the German Psychonautics Core.

"Oh, well. In that case, Joey, I get Milla."

That changed things. "Milla Vodello?"

"Oh, so you do like women."

"Not like that. She's supposed to be the best at tricks and levitation."

"Jeez, can't you lighten up a little?" These boys were annoying. Joey had already left. "It's not all so serious. Lighten up!"

Joey ducked his head back in the doorway. "If he's not coming, that'll just make the party better. I get the shower first."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

Sasha sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he prepared for the longest week of his life.