HERE WE GO! Sorry this took a bit, but we've finally arrived at the penultimate chapter of the fic! This chapter was a monster to write and a monster to edit, but here it is. Hope you're ready!
Huge thanks to Jaywings and Pinky G Rocket for helping me beta-read.
Enjoy!
A dark sky and dried plants taller than he was surrounded Oleander. Invisible crows cackled and a chilly wind rustled the dead flora that sprouted from either side of the foggy path ahead. Otherwise, this place was barren.
Oleander hesitated. "Milla...?" he called. When she didn't respond, he winced. "Sasha? Did you come to join me again?"
No response came. Instead, the wind blew again, carrying the stench of rotten eggs and spoiled meat. Oleander gagged. "Eugh! Who didn't clean the fridge?!" he cried as he plugged his nose.
"I believe that was your duty this week, son."
Oleander whirled around and took a psychic stance in the direction of the new voice. But he faltered as dread and shame filled his stomach.
Agent Cruller stared down at him with narrowed eyes and furrowed, bushy brows. "Don't try to point those psychic powers at me unless you wanna lose your other eye."
Not him, Oleander thought. He dropped his psychic stance and took a step back. It was one thing to have his coworkers examining his head. It was another to have the former Grand Head of the Psychonauts poking into his mind. "Uh. Agent Cruller," he said, managing an awkward nod. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"Hmm, no?" One of Cruller's eyebrows raised. "You didn't think I was gonna let Sasha and Milla have all the fun, did ya? Besides, I had to step away from the campers for a while." He shook his head. "I can only take so much cheering." A shudder ran through his body (or was that just the tremors he got from time to time?) before he went still again. "Anyway, I decided I wanted to take a look at this for myself."
Oleander relaxed a little. "You did?"
"Sure. It's not every day a Psychonaut turns traitor," Cruller snapped, glaring down at him again.
Wincing, Oleander forced himself to meet Cruller's gaze. "All right, I get it," he grumbled. "Mistakes have been made, but Milla's already gone through this stuff with me. And Sasha too, a little. I think we've already hit the root of the problem."
"Oh, have we?" Ford gestured to the dim world around them. "Looks like there's a few more roots here, too."
"Yeah, rotten ones." Casting another gaze about his surroundings, Oleander tried to make sense of it—he didn't remember anything looking or smelling like this. The humid air did remind him a bit of the lake, but otherwise... "I don't know what any of this is," he admitted. "Where are we?"
"That's what we're here to find out," Ford remarked. He began marching through the path into the thicket. Oleander begrudgingly followed, looking up as the dead vines around them choked out the sky, leaving only the barest amounts of light.
As they moved forward into unknown territory, he sighed. "I'm tellin' you, I've traveled through plenty of battlefields in my day and none of this is fami—"
"Unless you're talkin' about the battlefield in your classroom, Morry, kindly keep your trap shut."
"Why should I—oh." Oleander buried his head into his hands.
It had been ages since he'd had a real conversation with the real Ford, and he'd forgotten the Psychomaster was one of the few people he didn't talk to about the "war." That was one thing he'd promised himself—he wouldn't talk about it to the people who were involved in the real thing. Especially not Ford Cruller.
"...Sorry, Cruller."
"Hmph."
As they moved forward, more objects stood out from the withered forest—giant white fragments littered the pathway. They were smooth and slightly curved, and Oleander couldn't identify what they were until something massive appeared in the darkness ahead. In front of them was a giant, cracked egg that blocked the path. It was taped together with haphazard strips of clear tape and had some pieces of it missing.
"Interesting," Cruller said as he rubbed his chin. "What do you make of that?"
Oleander tipped his head back to regard the giant egg, and found himself lifting his helmet to scratch the top of his scalp. "I'm wonderin' if we're still in my head," he replied.
"Oh, this is your head all right. That thing bears a striking resemblance to your bald noggin."
Oleander clamped his hat back over his head and growled. "You're one to talk." Not keen on wasting any more time, he reached out with TK, trying to lift the egg. It rattled in his grip with some of the fragments threatening to fall off. "Hm..." Letting go, he stepped closer to the obstacle and assumed another psychic stance. This time, he pulled his fist back, and swung it forward in a psi-punch. A gigantic green fist swung in front of him and knocked into the egg. Rather than shattering, the whole egg rattled in place again.
"Ugh. What now?" Oleander crossed his arms. On cue, one fragment dropped off the egg and landed on his foot. "AAAGGRRGHHH!"
While Oleander hopped on one foot and unleashed a torrent of words that weren't allowed to be spoken within thirty feet of campers, Ford rolled his eyes. "You ever try fixin' things instead of breakin' them?" Assuming a psychic stance, he TK'd the fallen fragment back up to the space it had originally occupied.
"You're just makin' it more of an obstacle." Oleander looked up at Ford as he spoke, stooped down on one knee to rub his foot. "How's that supposed to help?"
"You gonna find out, or are you just gonna sit there yappin'?" Ford asked, stepping back and crossing his arms.
While they were in Ford's sanctuary, the one place where the old Psychomaster retained his sanity, Oleander wondered if he wasn't losing it anyway. Even so, he rolled his eye and turned around, reaching out with TK to snatch up another broken piece of the shell. He moved it back to the egg, taking a moment to figure out where it went before inserting it back into place. It did stay, as the piece Ford had returned had, but nothing else happened. Still, he continued slotting the broken pieces back into place until the giant egg was whole again. The cracks were still visible.
"...So what was the point of that?" Oleander asked, crossing his arms. "It's still in the way! Still broken, too."
"Right," Cruller said, looking up at the egg. "Can't always completely fix everything you break. Even when you patch it up, there'll always be cracks."
"Why would I wanna fix an egg anyway, except for breakfast?"
"This is your mind, Morry," Ford said, looking back at him and tapping his own head. "Don't tell me you've never used that code word before."
Eggs? "Oh!" He jolted at the realization. "All those kids' brains though—they got put back, right? They'll be fine!"
"Yeah. I'm sure gettin' eaten by a fish and gettin' sent to that cuckoo you hired ain't gonna scar them for life," Ford replied with a glare.
"W-well—" he stammered. He felt a wave of heat against his face. "What'm I supposed to do about that now? You think I got a time machine on me, Cruller?"
"You been listening to me or what? You do what you can." Sighing, Cruller turned to face the egg again. "Dependin' on the mess you make, sometimes there's no fixin' things at all." He paused, lowering his head, then shook himself. "But that's not the case here, luckily." Raising his hand, he nudged the egg with TK. It rolled out into the forest, the nearby vines and trees edging themselves away to let it pass before springing back into place.
"Hm." Oleander eyed the spot where the cracked egg had disappeared into the forest, his thoughts on the campers. Some of them could barely handle Basic Braining—why had he thought they'd be a good fit for those tanks, anyway? Heck, why had he gotten into all this in the first place...? Shaking his head, he looked back to the path, and gave a start.
A rabbit stood where the egg had been, small and frail and trembling. When it met Oleander's gaze, it hopped up to him, standing up on its hind legs. Everything's different here, the rabbit whispered into his mind.
"Mister Bun...?" Oleander whispered back, stooping down to pet the animal. "When did you get so small?"
Mister Bun ignored the question. The others are here too.
"What others?" Oleander asked. But by the time he had gotten the question out, the rabbit had already turned tail and was hopping away, heading further down the path and disappearing into the shadows ahead. "Hey, wait up!" He hurried after his old pet, Cruller not far behind. As they moved through the forest, they could see more dead plants, some of them reminding him of the mutant rabbits he'd seen when his mind had meshed with the kid's. He wasn't upset to see them shriveled.
"Hmm, looks different from the last time I was here," Cruller remarked.
"What?" Oleander blurted, spinning to face Ford again. "When have you been here?"
"Just yesterday," he said, tipping his head back to regard the dried vines and thorns around them. "'Course, you weren't here... not knowingly, anyway."
Oleander bristled. "What're you talking about? You weren't—"
"No, I wasn't invadin' your mind in your sleep," Ford said, waving a hand dismissively. "Nah. I was hitchhiking in Razputin's head when he was here."
"When was that kid here?!" Oleander cried, throwing his arms out in exasperation. "Even when our minds were merged I never saw this place! Did he toss a Psycho-Portal when I dozed off?"
"Nope. You projected your own mental world when you conked out." Cruller resumed walking down the path, where the rabbit waited some distance off near what appeared to be a small waterfall. "You always had powerful mental defenses, Morry, but every defense has its cracks." He paused a short distance from the water, gazing upward at a gigantic bathtub lodged in the narrow valley. The cascade leaked out of a small crack that ran across the bottom. Mister Bun sat just behind and to the left of the water, his ears swiveling.
Hurrying after him, Oleander rubbed a hand against his temple. "I... I projected this place in my sleep? But how did—" He remembered it before he finished talking, and shook his fist in frustration. "That blasted radio! Rrgh, Cal never answered me on it half the time anyway."
Hearing the name, Cruller turned back to him. "That was your co-conspirator, right?"
"Eh, that's giving him too much credit," Oleander grumbled, finally stopping by Ford's side. "He was a hired goon, is all."
There was a loud tink nearby. Oleander whipped his head around to look for the noise, but Ford didn't even blink at the sound. Instead, he frowned down at Oleander. "Was that all you saw him as?"
"Look, I just needed someone to help me build the tanks and to handle some of the dirty work at the start. That's it. Nothin' more than that." He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Ford. For some reason the sound of the nearby water was irritating him. He ground his teeth before going on: "Why do you care? I thought you were supposed to evaluate me, not that brain-surgeon-for-hire."
Tink-tink.
In the distance, Mister Bun huddled down on himself. Something is wrong...
Meanwhile, Ford turned away from him, his eyes growing unfocused. "You think he had a family, Morry? Friends? Maybe some kinda hope for the future?"
Oh, this was some time for Cruller to get wistful. Oleander bristled. "You sure care a lot about some weirdo who de-brained a bunch a' kids."
T-tik-tink.
For a moment, Cruller's eyes went back into focus, his bushy brows narrowed as he eyed Oleander. "Sure. I care about you, don't I?"
Oleander held up a finger and opened his mouth to protest, only to shut it and let his hand drop to the side. "I... uh." Was that a good thing or a bad thing? He tried to think it through, past the strange static noise that was starting to fill his mind, only to shake his head. "Yeah, but you know me," he went on. "You never even met that creep."
Tink—crack.
Mister Bun turned tail and ran. Before Oleander could follow, Ford continued:
"No, but you did." His eyes unfocused, and he stared off into the distance again.
"Why's it matter?!" Oleander cried, stepping closer, but Cruller's gaze did not change. The static had turned to a faint roar by this point, and Oleander half-wondered if Cruller heard it too. "Why do you care how much I know about the guy?"
Ford's eyes snapped back into focus, glaring through Oleander's own and stabbing like a bayonet through his heart. A pit sunk in his stomach, and he took several steps back as his former mentor advanced on him. "Because you sure don't know much about his life for a guy who just ended it!"
CRACK.
Cruller's narrowed, hardened gaze melted, his eyes growing wide and face pale, as the bathtub above them shattered. Oleander realized that the sound had been the roar of water leaking through the growing crack in the giant porcelain tub, and now erupting out into a flood.
Oleander was yanked off his feet, hauled through the air and up to a rock ledge high above the raging water. His legs felt like jello, and he collapsed upon touching the ground again. He barely registered Ford landing next to him in a psychic attack pose, his posture tense and his hand and eyes frantically searching for something that wasn't there. The old man's chest was heaving and his entire frame was trembling. But Oleander couldn't call out to him that this wasn't the Deluge, couldn't even speak. The roar of the flood filled his mind, and his limbs tingled like radio static.
I hope you're ready, the kids are starting to arrive... You hear me Loboto? The kids are arriving! Do you copy? Loboto? Cal! I said do you copy?!
I hear you, but I wouldn't copy anything of yours, general. You have terrible taste!
The cackling on the other end of the radio dissolved into...
Ford sank down to a seated position next to him, shutting his eyes, the bags under which looked darker than usual. Below them, the flood had stopped, but the waters were still abating. The sound of it flowing through the forest was quiet and gentle, in sharp contrast to the fearsome roar moments ago. The calm waves filled the silence that hung between them.
"I... I can't say I didn't mean for it to happen," Oleander found himself saying. He felt like he was listening to himself talk from a battlefield away. "I can't. It didn't happen in the way I'd planned, but... I planned it."
"Didn't feel like the way you thought, hm," Ford said, his eyelids sliding open. He did not face Oleander.
"I didn't think it'd feel like anything," he admitted, holding up a numb hand before letting it drop. "Was just part of the plan. To get him out of the way before he could turn on me. I didn't think about it past that."
"We psychics can do a lotta things. Help people, heal 'em even." Cruller shut his eyes again. "But we can't bring 'em back from the dead."
While the feeling was returning to his limbs, he found his hands trembling again. He clenched them. "Well uh... well, it's... it's not like I chose a bad target for that, right?" He sat up straight as a manic energy filled him. "The guy was a criminal; he worked for tons of other criminals, even ones who opposed the Psychonauts! And I–I took him out, didn't I?" Cruller didn't answer him. Oleander shakily rose to his feet, starting to pace. "Truman's gotta give me credit for that, right? I took out an enemy of the Psychonauts! Heck, you understand that, don't you, Cru—"
He looked at Cruller, and the words died on his tongue. The gaze of a man who had seen war, seen death, and had killed, stared back at him with hollow eyes.
"Killing doesn't make you a hero, son." Ford rose to his feet, keeping eye contact with Oleander. "It makes you a murderer."
The word settled over him, sinking into his chest, a weight on his heart. He lowered his gaze, no longer able to meet Ford's. After a moment, he felt the old man's hand on his shoulder, but only for a moment.
Cruller walked to the end of the ledge, staring downward, and Oleander trudged after, leaving behind the frantic energy that had filled him before. Following Cruller's gaze, he found himself staring down at the shattered bathtub and the mud it had sunken into.
Dependin' on the mess you make, sometimes there's no fixin' things at all.
"I think we've seen all we need to here. Come on." Ford leaped off the ledge. Oleander swallowed, then leaped after him. While Ford floated gracefully down, Oleander zipped to the ground like a poorly-aimed cannonball, gathering his thoughts at the last moment to bounce just above the ground and come to an awkward landing at Ford's side. His feet sank into the mud, but Ford seemed less bothered by it.
"Isn't that... it, then?" Oleander asked, looking hesitantly up at Cruller. "Are we done?"
"Only in this corner of this part of your mindscape," Ford replied. "But we ain't done here yet." He nodded toward something up ahead, and Oleander followed his gaze. In the path ahead, the white fur of a rabbit stood out against the bleak surroundings.
Eyes widening, Oleander rushed to meet it, and scooped a sopping wet Mister Bun into his arms. The rabbit shook himself, flicking water and mud all over him. "Y-you all right?" he asked, then cleared his throat.
Mister Bun squirmed. The others are here, but something is wrong.
"What? What's wrong?"
The rabbit finally kicked his way out of Oleander's hands, hopping further out into the mental world.
"Well?" Cruller asked, startling Oleander as the old man appeared at his side. "Let's go see what it wants."
They continued to follow Mister Bun further down the forest path. A few censors rushed out to meet them, but Ford's psi-blasts took them out as soon as they appeared. Deeper and deeper they went, until the forest finally opened up into a giant clearing. A gigantic mound of rubble and crumbled plant matter greeted them.
"Ah. That's what I thought," Cruller remarked.
"What are you talking about?" Oleander asked, looking back at him.
"This pile a' rubble used to be somethin' else... Specifically, a thorney tower."
"Geez, rub it in, why don't ya," Oleander muttered, looking around the ruins.
"I don't think I need to."
His eyes fell on the figments, and he gave a start. He recognized the one closest to him: Boyd, standing with a molotov cocktail raised above his head. As for the others, he only needed to glance at them to recognize the other inmates: the actress, the former orderly, Crispin, Sheegor, even the dangerous painter he'd only caught a few glimpses of. The figments shimmered in and out of view, a taunting vision of the ones who were probably collateral damage of his plan.
"I think your mind's doin' a pretty good job of that itself," Ford finished. When Oleander turned to face him, feeling his face start to go numb, Ford only shook his head. "No, they're fine, according to our sources. Might not've been, with the dangerous nonsense you were meddlin' with, but they got lucky."
Heaving a sigh, Oleander wiped his brow and turned back toward the rubble. It wasn't hard to spot Mister Bun's bright fur against the glum surroundings. The rabbit sniffed at a section of the pile. "What's the matter? This place is a wreck," Oleander remarked, stepping closer. "I don't think it can hurt you."
The others are here, Mister Bun answered. He began digging at the rocks.
"What others?"
Mister Bun paused to stomp one of his back feet. The other rabbits.
"WHAT?!" Immediately Oleander began helping his pet, heaving rocks out of the way with his own hands. "Why didn't you say so, soldier?!" After a minute of digging, he spotted something white among the rubble. Oleander lifted the rabbit out, brushing some of the dirt out of its fur coat, holding as if it were fine china. Even knowing these were simply mental figures within his mind, not real animals, his heart ached at seeing them trapped like this. "Are you okay, little—?"
The rabbit lifted its head. Rather than the military helmets these mental bunnies tended to wear, this one wore an aviator hat and goggles.
"What the—?!" Oleander lifted the rabbit up, eyeing it critically. "I don't remember giving you gear like that!"
Sorry, Coach.
He spoke in the same soft, slightly-high-pitched voice rabbits tended to have, but this one's voice sounded different. Not to mention these rabbits never called him "Coach"—
As the puzzle pieces came together in his thoughts, a bolt shot down Oleander's spine. He dropped the rabbit, watching wide-eyed as it hopped over to Ford, sitting at his side. Ford simply stared back at Oleander. "Something wrong?" he asked, tipping his head slightly.
"No, it's..." He looked back at Mister Bun, whose ears drooped. "It's nothing. C'mon, soldier, let's find the rest." When the rabbit nodded, he followed him to another spot in the ruins, and the rabbit began digging once more.
Oleander pulled more of the rubble away until he spotted another patch of white fur, and reached in to pull out yet another rabbit. This one seemed oddly lanky, almost like a hare, and its tail was a mess of long, untamed fur. When he reached out to brush the dirt out of its coat, the rabbit whipped its head around and bit him with a pair of overgrown, crooked teeth. "YEEOUCH!"
Stupid! the rabbit hissed as it hopped out of his hands and away from him.
Meanwhile, Mister Bun hopped closer to him, nipping at his pant leg. Come on, he urged, but Oleander hesitated.
"What's the matter, Morry?" Cruller called out. "Ain't you supposed to be good with animals? That last one didn't seem too fond of you."
"Have you gotten a good look at these ones, Cruller?!" he snapped, shaking the pain out of his hand. "These aren't normal rabbits!" His eye twitched when he looked back to find Cruller wasn't even looking at him, instead regarding the helmet-and-goggles-wearing bunny that seemed to be staring up at him adoringly.
"Rabbits are rabbits, ain't they? Unless you got some other problem going on."
At the word "problem," the goggles-wearing rabbit's ears perked, and he hurriedly hopped back over to Oleander, standing up on his back legs. I can help, sir!
Oleander dragged a hand down his face. "Right. Sure. Go on, soldier." He watched the rabbit shake his ears before hurrying off to another part of the rubble pile. After that, Oleander looked back to Mister Bun. "Do you know where any of the others are?"
Yes.
Once more he followed his pet out to another part of the pile of rubble, pulling stones and crumbled plant matter away before spotting another bundle of fur. Upon pulling it out, he winced. The rabbit's ears were as big as its head, looking more like a rat's ears. This one also struggled out of his grasp. After hopping a short distance off, it paused. It looked back at him for a moment as though considering something before scampering back off in the direction the lanky rabbit had gone in. Oleander watched him go before kneeling down toward his own rabbit. "This can't be right, Mister Bun. None of these are the ones I looked after."
The rabbit stared back at him, perplexed. Yes they are, he said before scurrying off to another spot. Oleander stared after him in disbelief, hesitating. What was going on in this place?
When he finally trudged after his pet, he found the goggles-wearing rabbit helping another out of the rubble, this one a lop-eared bunny, with the top of her head and ears colored a dark reddish-brown. She turned her gaze over to Oleander for a moment, and Oleander flinched; it felt like he had just touched a hot stovetop. The lop-eared bunny pulled her ears back before hopping off to inspect a withered plant. Mister Bun, meanwhile, had his head underneath a tangle of dried thorns, struggling to lift it. Oleander quickly TK'd the bramble away, finding yet another rabbit beneath. This one wore a large fishbowl-shaped helmet that nearly obscured her face.
"Rrgghhh, Cruller!" Oleander cried, turning to glare at the old man. "What the heck is going on here?!"
"It's your mental world," Ford remarked, raising a bushy brow. "You tell me."
"These aren't my rabbits! I trained those ones myself—gave 'em gear to protect 'em from danger. And none of them looked like... this!" He gestured at another rabbit that the goggled one pulled out of the wreckage, this one bearing an overly-wide mouth and a small hat.
Wow, the rabbit remarked in a grating monotone.
"Things can change in mental worlds, especially when a lot's happened in your life. I don't see a problem here, though, other than the rabbits that need rescuing." Cruller's mustache twitched; beneath it was a faint smile. "So what's stopping you?"
"These... these aren't rabbits!" he finally cried.
"Took you a while to figure that one out, huh."
Growling, Oleander surveyed the landscape again, seeing more "rabbits" than before. The goggled one and the lop-eared one were helping more and more out of the wreckage, aiding Mister Bun themselves. Like the others before them, the ones being rescued all had strange quirks. One wore a giant hat, another had a set of headphones, and a third had its ears tied back in a ponytail. They were all quirks he recognized, but not in rabbits. "But why?" He gestured toward the hoard of rabbits with both hands outstretched. "Why do the campers look like..." He trailed off as memories of an earlier conversation returned to him.
I told you before, they weren't hurt.
A low rumble filled the clearing, and the rabbits, all twenty-two of them, stood on their hind legs, ears perked.
No.
The rumbling was now an all-out earthquake. Ford stood calmly at the edge of the clearing, hands behind his back. Meanwhile the rabbits, wide-eyed, began to scatter.
They were scared.
Oleander staggered backward as the rubble he'd been standing on began to lift up of its own accord. Stones, boulders, withered briars, and vines rose into the air and twined around each other, but not in the shape of a tower. An earsplitting crash rang throughout the clearing as a massive dead tree collapsed behind Ford, who stepped away just in time.
Now hang on, I wasn't gonna kill them—
The rabbits were bolting back and forth, screaming and running without a destination. The stone and briars surrounding them were too thick to escape through, and the fallen tree now blocked their only escape. The screams nearly plunged Oleander straight back into some of the worst memories of his childhood, but something else kept him firmly grounded in the present: the once-ruins of the tower, now formed into a replica of something he was very familiar with.
No, you weren't.
The stone-and-plant brain tank groaned to life, rolling forward.
You just had a job to do.
A hand, formed from a boulder and several oversized thorns, rose up from the tank, hovering at its side and beckoning with a finger. "Hey... how's the weather down there?"
The words rang through Oleander's head, filling his mind as they once had in the weeks leading up to the start of camp. He had heard those words throughout his life, from kids in elementary school, high school, and even in the Psychonauts. Sure, the latter had probably been meant in a teasing way then, but after years of hearing "short" jokes, he had been very ready to hurl them back at those who had (literally) looked down at him.
And now they were being hurled back at him. Again. By his own voice.
"Well, uh, it'd be a lot better if you weren't blockin' out the..." Oleander blinked up at the darkened sky above him. "...sun."
In response, the stone-and-plant hand that had been hovering at the tank's side swiped at him, and he tossed up a shield to block it. The sensation of the claw striking it still jarred him, but he was left undamaged. Undeterred, the tank summoned more rubble from the ground, creating a shield from a few fallen boulders. There weren't many for it to use, most of the rubble having already composed its body, but it would be enough to make this fight more of a pain than it needed to be.
The tank whirred, its front growing bright green before firing a psi-blast. Oleander dove out of the way, landing badly and skidding through the dirt. Groaning, he lifted his head just in time to see several of the camper-rabbits scurrying past him. He watched them dazedly for a moment before his eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. "Hey!" he called, pointing an accusing finger at the tank. "Watch the collateral damage!"
"They'll be put to good use when I'm through with 'em. Hah!"
Oleander's chest constricted as the words echoed around him. He'd never said that, but that was what he'd told himself whenever he questioned his own actions of plotting to steal the campers' brains. They'll be put to good use. This thing wasn't just parroting his words—it was parroting his thoughts. At least, the thoughts he'd had while he was planning his takeover.
This was shaping up to be a real mess.
"Cruller!" Oleander called, whipping his head around until he spotted the Psychomaster sitting atop the fallen tree. "We got a problem here!"
"Yep, sure looks like it," he said, and made no effort to move.
The tank spun on its treads, facing Ford with a low rumble. "Cruller..." It was still talking in his voice, and Oleander felt something tug beneath his chest. If his worries about what the tank was saying were right, that meant—
The brain tank rumbled closer to the fallen tree. "You left—"
Panic jolted through him, and he frantically TK'd one of the hovering boulders at the tank. It crashed against it, smashing a hole in its hull. "Hah! That did it!" he cried, puffing out his chest. But he deflated when the rubble simply returned to its original place, held together with vines. Not only that, but the fragments of the boulder joined back together, hovering next to the tank once again. "What?! You've gotta be kidding me!"
While he focused on where the tank had just repaired itself, he noticed a shadow falling over him. He tossed up a shield again before the thorny claws could strike him. It bounced off the shield, nearly breaking it, and he felt the world teeter for a moment. Still, he tried to keep an eye on the tank, looking for some sort of weak spot on it as it began to turn. If this thing was like the real brain tank, then if he could pull out the brain, it should stop working entirely. He couldn't really see a brain at the front of this thing—it was made out of rock and plants, after all—but surely it worked the same way, right?
Shaking off his dizziness, he charged at the tank, stopping and skidding closer to it as he assumed a psychic pose. This time he used his telekinesis to squeeze between the rock shields and grab the front of the tank, where the brain would normally be, and tugged. After a moment the chunk of the tank came loose, and he chucked it across the clearing.
"HAH! Let's see you work without a brain!"
But to his surprise, the tank resumed moving. Even as the rubble returned to where it was before, the tank still continued operating as though nothing had happened.
"Wha...?! How's that supposed to work?"
Meanwhile, the tank had turned to face more of the camper-rabbits that were huddled together in a corner of the clearing. "Bah, who needs their brains anyway? Who needs any of 'em? If they're not gonna help me, they're not gonna help these kids either. They can go ahead and stay brainless!"
Oleander shuddered as he stared at the tank, then looked over at the wide-eyed, terrified rabbits that the monstrosity was looming over. While he remembered thinking something along those lines, hearing those thoughts voiced loud and clear was...
Something glowed within the front of the tank, and Oleander bolted toward the rabbits without another thought. "Move it!" he shouted, manifesting enormous green psychic hands that shoved the herd of rabbits out of the way of the supercharged psi-blast. The blast left a shallow, smoking crater in the ground. Meanwhile, the rabbits scattered at his touch, bounding and hopping all in different directions—some even running blindly toward the tank. "Wait, no! Not that way!"
"They'll be sorry..."
"No, you'll be sorry if you get anywhere near the rabbits again!" Except these ones weren't really rabbits, except for... Oleander looked around the clearing frantically, scanning for one particular animal. It took him a moment to spot him—the smallest of the litter, his fur pure white, with no extra hats or glasses or anything else weighing him down as he bolted erratically throughout the clearing. "Mister Bun!" Oleander cried, charging toward his pet. He went into a dive to grab him, skidding across the dirt, but came just short of reaching him.
"They'll all see what I'm made of!" the tank's voice boomed as it grabbed at a few camper-rabbits with its claws. The rabbits managed to scurry out between the gaps in the claws, a fat one with a tinfoil hat managing to wriggle out just before the hand closed.
"Nggghh—FORD!" Oleander yelled as he shoved himself up to his feet. He looked up to find Cruller still staring down at him from his seat on the log, his bushy brows furrowed. "Aren't you gonna do something here?!"
"Me?" Ford returned, raising an eyebrow. He then leaned forward on his seat, frowning. "I thought you said you didn't need the Psychonauts."
Well, it looked like the tank wasn't the only thing parroting his words back to him. Oleander stepped back, rubbing his head. Of course, that was why Ford wasn't helping. They weren't here to just fix everything themselves—they were here to evaluate him. Which meant...
"...You're right!" he shouted, facing Cruller with a determined grin. "I did say that! I don't need the Psychonauts—I am one!"
Ford gave a start. "Now wait a second, Morry—"
"No need to wait! I got it now, Cruller." Spinning on his heels, he faced the tank again with newfound determination. "I'll take care of this!"
"I'll show them!" the tank roared, and for once Oleander found himself agreeing with it. If the Psychonauts wanted to evaluate just how capable he was, he'd let them have it!
The tank rose its stone-and-thorns hand once again, preparing to strike at a couple rabbits who were huddled against the wall. It was too far away to tell if one of them was Mister Bun. Oleander responded by manifesting a psychic hand of his own, grabbing at the tank's oversized hand and pressing against it like a psychic arm-wrestling contest. The claw struggled against him long enough for the two rabbits to scurry away, both of them bolting past Oleander. His brow furrowed when he saw one had a yellow collar and the other had a scarf. With a growl, he released the hand, letting it slam into the ground. "That's not him—where the heck did—"
The tank spun in place again, facing the opposite side of the clearing and locking onto something else—too far away for Oleander to see. Other rabbits were scurrying from its view. "I'll show all of them, even you."
With a deep whirr, the malevolent green light of a charging psi-blast glowed within the tank. Oleander ran as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him around it. Upon seeing a plain white bunny sitting before the tank, huddled down low, his eyes wide and unseeing, Oleander's heart leaped into his throat. The psi-blast was a second from firing, and he had no time to think.
Oleander dove, snatching the rabbit in his arms and rolling badly just as the psi-blast hit directly behind him. The force from it sent him flying across the clearing, and he kept Mister Bun tucked against his chest so he would take the worst of it. Moments later, he slammed against the rock wall lining the clearing.
Stars erupted in his vision like distant figments. He felt the world spinning, and saw little else. That blow had nearly knocked the mental energy right out of him, but he fought to hang on—he wasn't going to lose this fight.
Something was calling, soft and distant, but he couldn't make out any words, too focused on keeping his mental energy together. He wasn't going to fail this test.
The voice called again, too distant to hear.
He wasn't going to let them think he was weak.
...ly...?
He wasn't going to lose Mister Bun again.
Oly?
The world slowly came back into view: a green meadow, a blue sky, a circle of hutches, a small rabbit sitting before him.
Oly, can you hear me?
"Yeah..." he murmured, pushing himself upright, the grass tickling against his arms. As his mind swirled in a haze, he thought that this wasn't where he'd been before. But he wouldn't question it right now. The sun was warm against his skin, and the breeze gently ruffled Mister Bun's fur. "Yeah, I can hear you." A smile worked its way across his face, and he reached out, brushing a hand over the rabbit's head. "You okay, soldier?"
No.
Smile fading, he lifted Mister Bun into his hands, eyes scanning for where the rabbit was hurt. Or maybe he was scared? "Hey, nothin's gonna hurt you. I've got you right here."
Oly... the rabbit whispered in disbelief, head tilting and ears drooping.
"What? What's wrong?"
I'm dead.
The meadow, hutches, sun, and sky shattered into a million fragments and fell away like glass, plunging them into dark, icy numbness. Oleander felt himself suspended over nothing, floating in an empty void, still holding the rabbit in his shaking hands. "Wh... what?"
You knew that, didn't you, Oly?
Something hitched in Oleander's chest, and his lip wobbled.
I've been gone a long time.
"I... yeah," he managed to squeak, feeling tears spill down his face. He sniffled loudly. "I know. But I just..."
Mister Bun nuzzled into one of the hands that held him. I don't need to be protected now.
Oleander held the bunny to his chest with one arm, scrubbing at his face with his other hand. When Mister Bun began to shove against him, he pulled the rabbit away, looking down into his face once more.
I don't need to be protected, he repeated, then turned around, his ears pulled back. ...But they do.
Following Mister Bun's gaze, he found they were back at the clearing. The rock-and-plant brain tank still rumbled in front of them, the camper-rabbits still fleeing from it—fleeing from his disastrous plan.
You couldn't help me, but you can help them, Oly. Mister Bun faced him again, and leaned forward to rub his chin against Oleander's face. You're strong enough.
And the rabbit hopped out of his grasp, fading from view like the ghost it was. Oleander stared at his empty hands.
"You're all gonna pay for what you did to me!" the tank cried.
His head snapped up, fists clenched at his sides. "Oh no you don't—you're gonna pay for what you did to them!" Oleander charged at the tank, grabbing one of the rock shields and chucking it back across the clearing. Then, he pulled back his fist and sent it forward in a psi-punch, aiming for one set of the treads. As his fist made contact, chunks of the tank went flying. Knocked off-balance, the monstrosity teetered briefly, trying to reassemble itself.
"There's our opening!" he called to the rabbits that would listen. "Retreat before it can attack you again!"
While some of the camper-rabbits fled, the goggled one scurried up to him, standing up on two legs. I want to help, sir!
"If you wanna help, soldier, learn how to follow orders! Get outta here!"
The rabbit's ears drooped. Regardless, he hopped back toward the others and motioned with a nod of his head for them to follow. C'mon, this way!
With a growl, the tank turned its newly-repaired treads toward the group of rabbits the goggled one was attempting to lead. "I'm stronger than any of you realize! Can't you see that?!"
"Yeah, already figured that one out!" Oleander cried in response, charging in front of the rabbits and forming a psi-shield over both himself and them as the tank threw one of its boulder-shields at them. His own shield shattered under the blow, leaving him dazed, but so did the rock that hit it. "I... I can do this..."
But the tank was already turning away, facing a couple camper-rabbits that had strayed from the other groups. "You're not gonna sideline me any more after this!"
"N-no, they won't!" he stammered as he TKed the lanky rabbit and big-eared rabbit away before the tank could claw them. "You—you see this, Cruller?" he called out, unable to spare a glance to see if the Psychomaster was watching. "I can do this!"
Just as he moved the rabbits to a safe spot, the tank turned again, charging a superpowered psi-blast. "I'll show you how powerful I can be..."
Oleander let out a gasp of exhaustion, shoving the targeted rabbits out of the way with TK before the blast fired. "I-I can, just as soon as I find an opening..."
Before he could even look for one, the tank turned yet again, facing the goggled and lop-eared rabbits. "You'll never stop me!"
Panting, Oleander charged forward to toss a shield over the rabbits. As soon as it went up, however, the tank turned on its treads to face a different group. "No...!" he gasped, tugging on his helmet. The battle before him was starting to feel distant as the horrible realization washed over him. "I... I don't think I can...!"
"Finally."
Oleander blinked. Cruller was between the tank and the camper-rabbits, reaching out toward the tank as it swiped its own hand at him. Before the claws struck, the thorns composing them were suddenly lit ablaze, and the whole hand yanked away as though in pain.
"Thought you'd never figure that out," Ford remarked, rolling his eyes at him.
"Cruller!" Oleander stumbled up to him, looking from the tank (which was now waving its hand around to try to put out the blaze) and back to Ford. "What are you...?! I thought—"
"We're not here to test how strong you are, Morry," Ford said, looking him in his good eye. "There was never any doubt about that one."
"But I—"
"CRULLER!" the tank roared, and Ford assumed a psychic pose toward it once more.
"We can talk later! We have to take care of this mess first."
"Uh... right!" Wiping his brow and feeling his second wind, Oleander turned to face the nearby group of rabbits. A high pitched whistle escaped his lips. "March formation!"
The camper-rabbits exchanged glances, ears twitching.
"Ugh—get behind me! Forward march!"
As he led the rabbits away, the tank kept its focus on Cruller. It raised its hand, now missing a couple thorn-claws, and took a swipe at him. But at the last moment, Ford teleported away. The hand slammed into the ground, its remaining charred thorns breaking away.
Meanwhile, Oleander kept moving around the clearing, bringing the other rabbits into his formation as he encountered them, casting occasional glances at the tank. It was harder to keep an eye on Ford, who was repeatedly teleporting around the tank to disorient it. Finally, the Psychomaster stood in one spot, assuming a psychic pose. The tank attempted to raise what was left of its hand to attack, only to howl in pain as the ash-covered stone crumbled away. Before it could attempt another attack, Ford's eyes narrowed, and the tank began to glow—not green, but red and orange as Cruller's pyrokinesis set the plant matter within it ablaze.
"Now, Morry!"
Oleander gave a start before charging up behind the tank, his right fist pulled back, and swinging at it with a psi-punch. Chunks of stone were knocked away, and this time did not return. The charred vines tried to bundle the stone back together, only to crumble away with the effort. "Cruller..." the tank rumbled weakly, and Oleander froze.
"Keep at it!" Ford called, still concentrating his pyrokinesis. Oleander grit his teeth, throwing several psi-punches in quick succession, knocking more and more of the tank away each time.
"Cruller..." the tank gasped. "You left me alone!"
The flames that engulfed the tank flickered as Ford's head snapped over to Oleander, brows raised. But he went right back to concentrating his powers while Oleander pushed himself to punch faster. Come on, come on, shut up...! he thought frantically.
The voice, once angry and booming, was now weak with despair. "You were the only one who took me seriously... and you left!"
Oleander's fist shook as he threw another punch at the tank. "That wasn't his fault—I knew it wasn't!" he protested, but it hadn't stopped the thoughts of betrayal from coming. With another blow, he realized he had knocked away about half of the tank, its charred stones falling away and black thorns crumbling to ash.
"I had to prove I was a real Psychonaut all on my own... and they—they didn't believe me. Didn't see me as anything but a hot-headed runt... and they sent me here..."
Even though Oleander wasn't hitting the tank with his own fits, his arms felt tired. He realized the tank had long since stopped fighting back, but he continued to swing at it anyway, shutting his eyes as the thing laid his heart bare.
"I didn't get a real chance to prove I could be a true agent, or a soldier, or anything..."
The tank collapsed. Laying forlornly on one side, it was now nothing but the front brain case and a single set of treads. Oleander pulled his fist back one last time for the finishing blow.
"If I can't do this... I'm..."
The psi-punch slammed into the tank, and the last bits of stone and plant matter crumbled away.
"...nothing..."
Where the tower once stood, where the brain tank once sat, was a broken pile of rubble once more. Cruller and Oleander both lowered their hands. When the former looked at the latter, he turned away, scratching the back of his head. Behind him, the camper-rabbits were either watching with a mix of concern and confusion, or pawing at the fallen log that had closed off the clearing.
"You mind, uh... removing that for them?" Oleander muttered, gently pulling the rabbits away from the log with a telekinetic hand. Cruller obliged, reaching out with his pyrokinesis and burning the log away quickly. For a brief moment, the rabbits hopped in place, then bolted back through the thicket, leaving the wreckage behind.
Ford and Oleander were alone. The mental world, once filled with the sound of wind and rustling trees and cackling crows and hopping rabbits, was now eerily silent. Oleander shifted his feet, the scraping of his boot heels against the dirt near-deafening. Time had gone still until Cruller shattered the illusion.
"Huh."
Oleander whirled around to face him, holding up his trembling hands. "Listen, what that thing said—I know that wasn't really—"
To his surprise, Ford waved him off, heading out of the clearing. "Eh. You wouldn't be the first person I let down."
Days ago—hours ago, even—Oleander would have probably felt vindicated at hearing Ford take the blame for something. But now it sat in his stomach like sour milk. He stumbled after him, and when Cruller took a seat on a nearby log, Oleander sat next to him. He kept his gaze on the soggy ground beneath his feet. When Ford didn't speak, Oleander sighed.
"Really, I know it wasn't your fault. Not your fault that—er..." For a moment he picked at a loose chunk of bark as he considered his words. "That what Maligula did finally caught up with you."
If it were possible, Ford looked more tired than usual as he kept his gaze forward. "You can go on thinking that if you want."
As hotheaded as Oleander was, he wasn't about to fight with an old war veteran over this. "Point is, I'm not really angry at you." He rested his chin in his hand. "Wasn't really before, until you stepped in."
Now, Cruller did look at him, his face scrunching up in a frown. "What in sam hill'd make you think I wouldn't step in?"
Oleander scoffed. "Come on, Cruller. Don't tell me you're not mad at them too."
"Angry at who, 'bout what?"
"The Psychonauts?" He turned to face him. "You founded the blasted organization in the first place! You killed Maligula and brought the Grulovian War to an end! And what do they do to thank you?" Oleander swung his arm out in a wide gesture. The mental world here wasn't the camp, but he figured Cruller would pick up on it anyway. "Write you off as a loony and toss you out here."
"They 'tossed me' out here because of the psitanium deposit. It's the only thing that's keepin' me together these days," Ford said, tapping his own head.
"Yeah, and how have Hollis and Truman been treatin' ya since then?" Oleander raised a brow. "Write any mission reports lately? Send any commands to them from your sanctuary? Enjoying that 'Grand Head' title—"
Ford stood up so fast that Oleander tumbled backwards off the log in surprise. "The way I'm treated ain't none of your concern, Morry!" he snapped. His glare was so fiery, Oleander swore that he would be the next target of that pyrokinesis.
"...Should I be sorry for caring?" Oleander asked, clambering back up onto the log.
"You got a funny way of showin' you care about people if you attack their friends over it."
"I—well—ah." He dodged Ford's gaze, and felt his nonexistent tail tucked between his legs. "Right, got me there."
"Don't use me as some kinda warped excuse to hurt people," Ford said, and sat firmly back down on the log.
Oleander bit his lip before glancing back at Ford. "...You really aren't angry at them, though? Forsythe and Zanotto and...?"
Shoulders drooping, Ford shook his head. "If I were in their shoes, I wouldn't trust me either." He heaved a tremendous sigh. "The Psychonauts ain't perfect, but neither am I."
"Pshaw. You're better than—"
"Can it!" Cruller snapped. "You're the one we're evaluating, here!"
Slumping in his seat, Oleander gestured back toward the clearing. "Right. Well, you saw all of that, back there. And heard it. Consider me evaluated."
"Do you even know what we were lookin' for, Morry?"
He paused, brow furrowing. "I thought I did. I'd thought it was about if I was strong enough. I'd have to prove myself."
"That's what got you into this mess in the first place," Cruller remarked dully.
"Yeah, noticed that." Oleander brushed some of the dirt off of his pants from where he'd slid on the ground. "I guess you were lookin' for a confession?"
"Nope. You already admitted to everything before we jumped in."
"Well uhhh... You're here to help me?" he asked, waving his hands awkwardly. "Not the most enjoyable way of doing that..."
Ford shrugged. "You're partially right. I'll give you that." Shifting in his seat, he turned to face him. Oleander's first instinct was to look away, but Ford stayed silent until he finally looked his former mentor in the eye. "We did this to evaluate if you were still fit to be a Psychonaut."
Oleander's stomach clenched. "Still fit...?!" he asked, and swallowed. "Wait—but I thought you said this wasn't about proving myself?"
"Proving your strength, no. Not the kind you're thinking of, anyway." Ford shook his head. "You've always had a strong mind, Morry. But that's not what we're lookin' at."
"Uhhh..." Leaning back, Oleander turned to cast a glance at the mental world around them. "Sure looks like it to me—"
A pain lanced across Oleander's face, sharper and faster than a whip. He yelped, holding a hand against his cheek.
Cruller lowered his hand. "Would ya listen to me for half a second?" he snapped. When Oleander looked back at him, his expression softened again. "We might jump into people's brains, but what we're really looking at..." He held a hand over his chest. "...is their heart."
"Oh." Oleander rubbed his cheek where it had been struck. "Yeah, that makes sense." Pausing, he looked down at the ground again while his hands anxiously pulled loose bark from the log. "So what did you see?"
"A lot of foolishness, for one," Ford muttered. Oleander winced. "Dangerous foolishness that put more than a few dozen lives in danger, and that cost someone his life."
Feeling his heart sink, Oleander lowered his head. "...Yeah. There's no fixing that."
"No. There isn't."
He heaved a shaky sigh. "I... guess I'll need to turn in my badge, then—"
"I'm not finished."
Oleander looked up in surprise.
"A lot of that foolishness came from a place of pain. It's no excuse for it, but it's the root of the problem regardless—one we had to dig out and uproot. I think you got a good look at that yourself."
"Sure did." Wrapping his arms around himself, he shuddered. "Back at the butcher's shop, and here, too."
"It's never easy to confront, but you did it. And more importantly..." Cruller's bushy brows narrowed, but not in anger. "You saw what you had to change."
"I did...?" He scratched the back of his head. "I guess so, but I didn't do that by myself. You, and Milla, and Sasha, I guess, had to help. ...And Mister Bun."
"Oh? The rabbit that died a good thirty-some years ago?" Ford cocked an eyebrow. "You think he hopped into your mind?"
"I—well, no. I guess not." Oleander heaved a sigh.
"No. That was you, Morry. You knew deep down what you needed to do, at least for that part. Lettin' that pain stew inside you until it boiled over wasn't helpin' anyone, and some part of you knew that. You just gotta redirect that pain into something productive." Ford gave a start, glancing over his shoulder, then shook his head. "'Course..." He reached back to grab something, then brought his hand forward, revealing a small rabbit held by the scruff of its neck. "Doesn't mean you have to forget every little bit that caused you pain, either."
"Mister Bun!" Oleander cried. Ford released the rabbit, which hopped into his arms, and Oleander embraced him.
The others are safe now, Oly, Mister Bun thought, nuzzling into Oleander's chest. Thank you.
"As for the others..." Ford went on, "Psychonauts don't typically work solo. We gotta help each other."
Oleander paused in cuddling with the memory of his pet rabbit. "Yeah, we do."
"...I'm sorry I couldn't keep it together long enough to help you with all this before, Morry." Cruller sighed, his shoulders falling. "I wasn't trying to abandon you."
"I told you, Cruller, that one's not on you. I—I shoulda asked for help a long time ago. But I didn't." He looked up, offering Ford an awkward grin. "Better late than never, though,right?"
"Yeah, or you might've wound up drivin' that tank straight into the lake."
"I—what?"
"Your grand ol' world domination plan didn't have any aquatic transport options for that thing, from what you told us."
"I—!" Oleander held up a finger to protest, only to drop his hand. "Uh... wow. Not sure how that one slipped my mind."
Finally, Cruller stood up from the log, stretching his back. "Well... I think that about settles it."
"Settles what?" Eyes wide, Oleander hopped down from the log, still holding Mister Bun in his arms. "Are we done?"
"Yep." Ford glanced back in the direction of the destroyed tower-slash-tank and nodded in approval. "Finished here, anyway. I think Sasha had a few other experiments he wanted to run in the real world."
"Oh. Eugh." Oleander shuddered. "But—what about that evaluation thing? What's your conclusion?"
"Oh, it'll be all there in the mission report," Cruller said, holding his hands behind his back.
"But Sasha's not here!" He cast a glance around the forest, suddenly finding himself looking for the glow of a cigarette lighting. "...Is he? Or you're... relaying this to him, right?"
"Sasha only writes part of the reports sometimes. He... co-authors them, so to speak."
"But—"
"To answer your earlier question, Morry: yes, I have written some reports lately."
"Wait, but you can't—"
"By the time you've reached my age, you'll have picked up a few useful skills." Ford's mustache twitched in a smirk. "Like forgery."
Oleander stared at him for a moment, jaw dropped, before a laugh bubbled out of his chest. "Hah! Forgot how much of a sneaky devil you could be, Cruller."
"You better forget it if Forsythe ever comes askin'," Ford said, dropping his smile. "I'd never hear the end of it."
"Boy, don't I know that one." Sighing, Oleander looked back down at Mister Bun, petting the top of the rabbit's head. "Well, guess I'd better get going."
Goodbye, Oly. Mister Bun hopped down from his hands, but looked back up at him. I'll still be here.
He gave the rabbit a sad smile. "You go make sure those other bunnies get back to the classroom, all right?"
Right.
"Dismissed!"
As Mister Bun scurried off, Oleander finally turned back to Cruller. "So uh... ready to report back to base, then?"
"I'd say so." Cruller levitated a small object out of his pocket, grabbing either end of it and pulling. "Let's go, Morry." He took a whiff from the smelling salts, and faded from sight.
Oleander cast one last glance at the little rabbit hopping through the woods, and shut his eyes, allowing the mental world to fade around him.