"ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP!"

So it was time for summer camp once again. It was a bit chillier this year than last, with most of the kids wearing sweatshirts or long sleeves along with their gaudy yellow Whispering Rock t-shirts. The crowd of children were busy milling around the parking lot, some clutching onto parents who would've rather not have been there, and others chasing friends and fellow campers around, pestering one another with whatever bits of psychic prowess they had managed to learn.

Morceau Oleander was trying desperately to get their collective attentions, but even a loud voice was nothing when it was up against a buzzing swarm. Sasha was no help – raising his voice wasn't quite a specialty, and at the moment, he was a bit pre-occupied with carefully detangling a new camper who had gotten themselves caught in the basketball net – so it was then up to Milla to use her child rearing skills and get everyone quiet and focused.

"Children – children, if you please -"

The problem with her method was that it would've worked wonders had they been amongst non-psychics. Milla was levitating around in swift strokes, sending out little sparks of psynergy here and there, but when there were a dozen children doing much the same, paying attention to the adult woman flying around was difficult. She'd catch the attention of four kids, and they would gape in awe and wonder, but then quickly get distracted by a peer sparking someone's shoelace on fire.

Sasha finally succeeded in unraveling the child, though admittedly the task would've been much easier had the kid stopped flailing five minutes earlier. Sasha turned him upright before slowly lowering the two of them to the ground.

"I would advise not performing such stunts until you have your levitation merit badge," he said dryly to the boy, who had his eyes still clamped shut, fists clenched and raised tightly to his collarbone. He opened one eye upon realizing he was being spoken to, and nodded quickly at the German before scampering off to two other boys.

The number of campers this year had increased by probably 50%; something about being kidnapped and having your brain removed seemed to garner more attention from kids than less. And somehow, through some bureaucratic magic, and probably a lot of late-nights from the not-so-public PR department, parents had been assured that 'no really, the camp was safe'. Sasha wasn't particularly eager at having to look after what amounted to 29 campers – some new, some returning – but when viewed with the prospects of potentially having new test subjects, it wasn't so bad.

There were two key differences between this year and last. Number one was Razputin, who was playing the role of 'peer counselor', acting as the link between the campers and the counselors. The logic was that he would be a friend to the kids and a messenger for the adults. (There was also the desperate plea for a bit of roleplaying – Raz, having experienced summer camp for the first time in a highly unusual way, begged to to be allowed back so he could live through a more usual summer.) The young agent stood proudly at the edge of the parking lot that led into the camp, wearing the same outfit he had been sporting the previous summer but having swapped out his striped sweater for the regulated Psychonauts one.

And the second key difference was related to the rabbit that had hopped out from the forest and planted itself on Sasha's shoe. He looked down at it, it up at him, before it suddenly opened its mouth and let out a loud, commanding yell of a voice that didn't belong to it:

"LISTEN UP, CADETS!"

The parking lot instantly hushed, although at least one camper started crying while another two screamed. Sasha winced but otherwise just looked for Milla, hoping to get a reading on her reaction. She sat atop the large tree stump in the center of the parking lot, a rabbit in her lap and an amused smile on her face.

'Were you scared, darling?' came Milla's little astral voice.

'Not exactly the word I would use,' he responded, frowning.

Oleander next decided that a bit of height was probably in order, so he levitated himself a few feet off the ground, his arms folded across his chest. "Now that I have your attention...WELCOME!" His arms flung out, and on cue, the swarm of rabbits all stood on their hind legs. "Today...you embark on the first step...into the UNKNOWN! You are here because you posses unique gifts, and here, in this dojo – this psychic dojo! - you may find yourself on the verge of GREATNESS!"

Milla started clapping like a hummingbird, quite pleased with the new format of the opening speech. Sasha, admittedly, was liking this year's version of Oleander better than the previous models. The kids seemed captivated, the parents split between being nervous and being intrigued.

"Agent Razputin Aquato will now take you on a tour of the camp!" A wave of excited whispers broke out, Sasha catching a few of them being "True Psychic Tales 618!" He could only assume that said issue had something to do with Raz's adventures last summer, since reading the comics (for research, of course) had taken a backseat to work and prep for camp.

Raz leapt into the air eagerly, managing to stay afloat momentarily before slowly wafting back down (he still hadn't mastered hovering solidly yet). "Follow me!" he half-greeted, half-ordered, the campers heeding his beckon and eagerly following after. Their parents stayed a few paces behind, with Milla floating down from her perch and leading up the rear of the group.

The rabbits scampered from the parking lot as the visitors did, leaving Sasha with just their commander for company. He joined the man near the head of the trail, the two watching the group be led up the path towards the main lodge.

Oleander let out a sigh from his nose before grinning. "I've got a good feeling about this year."

"Oh?" Truth be told, Sasha hadn't had a whole lot of time to talk with the coach, but from what he had heard and experienced so far, things were...different...but still very much the same.

There were core facets of a personality that were engrained in a person. That was how they were, and no matter the circumstances, there were traits that were never going to change. It was how one applied their personality that made their behavior be seen as either a positive or negative. Oleander was always going to be loud, forceful, and commanding, but this time, there wasn't a threat of global psychic war. That was good.

Honestly, the man had never seemed terrible. He was sort of like that really great uncle who had a weird life outside of normal life but took you to the movies. (This was an assumption Sasha gained through hearing others talk about their relatives and reading books with characters who had better familial relations than him. His uncles weren't of the 'really great' variety, from what he could remember.) There was a reason he was in charge of Whispering Rock, nefarious plans excluded. The man liked to teach, to help shape the minds of young psychics. He knew what it was like to not be nurtured by ones parents. He knew what it was like to be alone and an outcast.

Think about it too hard in one direction and it was easy to forget the side of Oleander that was, quite frankly, rather manic. He just had...lots of feelings about things, and it came back to his personality that never changed. Forceful was definitely the accurate descriptor.

"I sense good things, Nein. Good things!"

"I'm interested to see how you'll be teaching clairvoyance to the children." Sasha looked to the ground as a rabbit hopped by, stopping at Oleander's feet and staring up to him with an odd glimmer of loyalty in its eyes.

Oleander scooped up the rabbit, patting it on the head. "Eager to teach it myself! I bet some of those rapscallions are ready to move on beyond the obstacle course. About damn time for a few of them."

Sasha chuckled, reaching into the depths of his pockets for a cigarette but coming up empty handed. He grumbled, squeezing his hand into a fist, but shook off the frustration. "Urgh."

"Somethin' ailin' ya, Nein? Don't tell me you're wussing out on me already, camp's not even started!"

"No," he said, his voice hollow. "I am more than ready for camp, but it may be slightly more taxing for me this year."

Raising an eyebrow, Oleander eyed him suspiciously. "You didn't break your collarbone again, did you? Pulled another Chattanooga?"

If there was a skill Sasha got to exercise more often at Whispering Rock, it was frowning. "I was nowhere near Georgia this past year," he answered dryly. "Switzerland is at fault."

The other man laughed, his gruff burst of five ready to pounce on the words he spoke: "Switzerland was BAD? Of course YOU would have thought that!"

Sasha narrowed his eyes. "Are you implying something, Morry?"

"Nothing out of the usual. Let me tell you, an international mission with three women doesn't sound bad to me."

"Like you would know," Sasha snarked, and was immediately pounced on by the rabbit in Oldeander's arms. "ACH!" He swung his leg out, telekinetically ripping the creature off and dangling it mid-air, before glaring at the coach, who was clapping his hands approvingly.

"Impressive maneuver, Havoc!" he called out to the rabbit, who attempted to swing its foot (could it salute? what had Morry been teaching these animals?) but was prevented from doing so by the psynergetic grip. "But you need to sharpen your aim!"

Realizing he wasn't going to get an apology, Sasha dropped the rabbit a few inches above the ground, glaring as it scampered off towards the campfire area. The German turned to the coach, his expression still sour.

"Do I have to add rabbits to the list of deadly animals here?"

"Not if you respect them." Oleander was grinning, clearly delighted at the attack. "Don't worry Nein, no real harm will come to ya if you just act natural. Should be easy for you - I thought nonchalantness was your specialty."

"My specialty is focus and control," Sasha drawled, feeling as if he was giving a profiling report. "And between you and Agents Vodello and Aquato, that is sorely needed around here."

"Lemme tell you something Sasha." Oleander suddenly took on slightly different air, one that was more pensive and even, somehow, restrained. "When you're down there in the mud and the muck and trainin' those kids, you have to be on their level, you hear me?" He began to enunciate his points with a wag from his index finger. "You don't just match their energy, you exceed their energy – you gotta be one of them, but authoritative to them."

This was a prime example of why Morry was in charge of Whispering Rock.

It didn't take away the sting on his thigh from the rabbit bite, but it did ease the scowl from Sasha's face. He inhaled before sighing, sagging his shoulders and straightening himself up (when Oleander started doing one of this 'quiet moment' speeches, it made people subconsciously scoop down to his height).

"I wasn't complaining, merely stating my role," Sasha said with a shrug, habitually reaching into his pockets again and once again returning empty handed. This time, Oleander took notice.

"No cigs?"

"No."

"What happened, you run out again? You've had plenty of time to 'prepare'," (he said the word with added air quotes), "Nein. Or do you want me to cover for you while you make a run into town?"

"I ran out last week," Sasha stated, the sentence pained.

There was a pause before Oleander tilted his head. "Ran out, huh?"

"Yes."

"You 'ran out'...because..."

Ohhhh he was doing the thing. He was doing the 'lead the speaker on so that they'll answer the question for you and you get to make them feel stupid'. This was a game Sasha could play for hours (and he had), but not when there was a schedule to keep to.

"Vodello."

"Vodello?"

"Vodello."

"Startin' to not sound like a name anymore."

"She's been after me to quit for years."

"Not a shocker."

"She made me promise when we were in Switzerland that I would quit whenever the last of my stock was gone. I rationed them as long as I could and ran out the night before coming to the campgrounds. The withdraw was at its worst during all of the prep week."

Before he'd even realized it, Sasha had rambled off the complete story. The words felt like hollow echoes from dreams – had they really happened? Keeping focus was his talent, of course, but the subtraction of one of his vices had made everything feel a bit more ethereal. Choosing to offset this with an even higher rate of coffee consumption helped, but his more frequent trips to the bathroom were not very welcomed additions to his routine.

Another stray rabbit came hopping out onto the parking lot, though taking a clear intent on following the path up to the lodge (was it a spy? was it going to send messages back to Oleander and – oh no, the rabbits were going to drive him mad all summer at this rate). It suddenly gave Sasha an idea.

"Morry, I have a favor to ask."

"Huh? A favor?" Oleander stuck out his bottom lip, brow furrowed. "What's this about, Nein? I ain't gonna start messing with Vodello on your behalf, if that's where you're going with this."

"No. Well – not quite." Sasha pushed his glasses further into his nose bridge, the thoughts of the words he was about to speak filling him with dread. "If Vodello approaches me and starts talking about 'detoxing' or 'cleansing', I'm afraid that in my current state, I might eventually experience enough of a lapse where I'll believe it to be a good idea."

The coach cradled his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Hrm. Okay. And?"

"If such were to happen..." Sasha took a breath, speaking the words as clearly as he could, "I request for one of your rabbits to bite me until I come to my senses."

A silence came between them, and the more time passed, the more Sasha began dreading the response. It was an odd question, he knew, especially coming from him. He hated germs, and animals carried germs. The bubonic plague was spread on rats. Lord only knew what those rabbits had on them.

But instead of laughing, or even questioning, Oleander nodded solemnly. "Understood."

Relieved of that burden – should it come to pass – Sasha cleared his throat. "Good."

The coach gave a few more affirmative nods. "I thought somethin' was a bit off about you, couldn't really place it."

"You didn't notice?" He figured maybe the absence of the cigarettes would be enough of a clue.

"Prep week is busy week," Oleander growled in his all-knowing tone. "Not my fault I don't see you. I have a schedule to keep to – every day, up at oh-five hundred hours, and you can be damn sure I'm trying to get sleep while I still can; before those little buggers got here and start havin' their little spats and hissyfits during the night."

True enough. And to be fair, the little mental-Milla in Sasha's head (not literally, just the little voice of the woman he had developed by one, spending far too much time around her, and two, having her actually be in his head now and then) was going on about him 'checking his ego' and whatnot. The world didn't revolve around him, et cetera et cetera. It wasn't his ego, it was just him thinking that something that had become iconically associated with him would be easily noticed were it to be gone. Perhaps that wasn't the case.

"You have any actual bets?"

"Hmm?" Sasha looked down at the other man, in time to see him pick up yet another rabbit (this was going to be a very long, very animal-infested camping session). "Bets on what?"

"How long it takes you to go back."

The German scowled. "Ranger Cruller already got to this. He said three weeks."

Oleander laughed, the boisterous waves making Sasha's eye twitch. "Three? He's got too much faith. I give you 'til the end of this first week with the kids."

The frown deepened, but if this was going to happen, then so be it. "How much?"

"Let's see...how 'bout...I'll do ten dollars and a week of your lifeguarding rounds."

"That's it?"

"Hey." Oleander held up his hands, shrugging. "I'm makin' a wager, I'm not an idiot. Any stakes higher than that and you'll be intentionally trying to sabotage me."

Sasha smirked. "Okay, fair point."

"...So."

"So?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"Give up smoking?"

"No, hike the Himalayas – of course give up smoking, you knucklehead."

That...was a good question. He supposed it originated in Switzerland, where he could blame it on being disoriented from jetlag, or from the pressure that came on having multiple agents gang up on him, or by just having a change of heart along with a change of continent. But in the end, those were simply shells of excuses, none really fitting the answer.

He didn't really know why. Milla had been asking him since almost day one of their friendship – not even their partnership; this was the part that went pre-agency assignment. He had just told her to get used to it, and although she did, she never gave up. What made it different now?

"Eh. Trying it out. Time for a change."

Oleander rolled his eyes. "That's a bull-headed lie if I ever heard one."

Well, at least they agreed on that.


"Pleeeeeease?"

"Pretty please?"

"Puh-lee-hee-heeeeeeese?"

The sweet, sweet relief of Friday night was being offset by three campers practically attaching themselves to Sasha's ankles. They had seemed to grown fond of him during the course of the intro week, though at this point it was difficult to determine if it was genuine liking or an unfortunate impression left from the True Psychic Tales comics.

"No. Go to the campfire yourselves, you don't need me."

"But we want to hear a story!" pleaded Lorenza, a short girl with bushy brown hair and a penchant for accidentally starting fires.

"I'm sure Agent Aquato will have something to share."

"But we want to hear something from you!" was the next baiting from Darien, a stout boy who already had two penalties against him for misbehaving.

"Yeah, you and Agent Vodello!"

Sasha shot his glare at the third child, an overly-freckled girl named Nora. In the dim light, she couldn't see his annoyance, but did take a step back at his action.

"No. That's my final answer. Now please." Sasha telekinetically began pushing the children from his table in the lodge, forcing them towards the main doors. "Go to the fire. Have fun." The last two words were added on, probably noticeably forced.

The three gave him one last lingering look of determination before giving up, hopping ahead of his push and shoving the doors open.

"Man..."

"We'll never hear about Budapest now..."

"Geez, way to go Renza..."

"Hey, you came with me!"

He was going to have to talk to Milla about that one of these days...