Buzz Lightyear of Star Command
Psyche
(Disclaimer: I own no part of the BLoSC show or the Disney company. I apologize that I changed the title but haven't edited the first three chapters; I've been away from FF dot net for several months and all my documents have expired. I do not know when I'll make the edits, but I will take care of them in time. Thank you for your patience! Reviews are appreciated.)
Imprisoned in Warp's safe-house, a bare mattress her one companion, her sense of time thrown sweet-mother-of-Venus-knew-where, Mira grew more desperate for a change. She performed basic exercises and stretches to keep herself fit, these workouts interspersed with Tangean meditation techniques, but her mind craved real occupation like her body craved phasing through energy.
No cafeteria, no cards, and no gym – even her quarters on Star Command came equipped with a digital terminal and vid-screen for stars' sakes!
She stayed clean and fed at least (Agent Z kept a few decent standards, thank the stars) though Warp ensured she received her pre-prepped showers, in which she also more-or-less washed her clothes, and meals without risking himself whatsoever. The first time her food entered her room via a slot opening slightly above the threshold of her room's door, Mira sent her captor a stinging remark concerning cowardice, but he waved her off.
"What you call cowardice, I call practicality, princess. Potato, po-tah-to," he said, leaving her to take out her frustrations on an innocent, defenseless salad.
Maybe her subconscious mind did hold a weird grudge against produce.
Her lunch annihilated, Mira retreated into herself, questioning the universe over topics she queried many times already. How was Buzz doing? Had he woken up yet? What about Booster and XR? How were they coping, especially now that Mira was MIA? And her father: How badly did he react to the news of his only heir – his only child – going missing? Did they, or anyone else from Star Command, or Tangea, or maybe the Rhizomians pick up her trail? She must have left one; she was hardly an actual ghost - when last she checked anyway. Maybe the Rhizomians poisoned her on accident and she now suffered through a surreal post-life fantasy?
Mira laughed. Nah. As if a stupid door could stop me if I was dearly departed. Besides, no dying fantasy of mine would have anything to do with Warp Darkmatter, even in his dreams.
Yet, Mira dared not shake Warp's story. The man was a born liar, no doubts there, but the fact remained that Mira's Tangean powers somehow phased her through Tefloid 14 or an equivalent material without alerting any security measures or afflicting her with adverse effects (of which she knew, at any rate). Plus, where did "Buzz's" psychic trail come from; how could she sense the trail since her captain lied comatose literal light-years away and she'd never felt anything like it before; and why, oh, why did her journey lead her to Warp Darkmatter?
A tiny voice gave its opinion from the back of her head, but she shut up the little nuisance.
"I am not getting myself shot dead over guesswork," Mira declared. "Until I find bona-fide answers, no more 'herbal tea' for me. You'd think the people of Rhizome would know about any 'natural' foods and drink mixes that aren't fit for Tangean consumption… After I'm out of here, I'm giving Professor Triffid an excruciatingly thorough pop quiz on the subject."
"I hear you talking, princess, so I guess that means you're awake."
Mira sighed. "Speak of the devil… What do you want, Darkmatter? Just so you know, this mattress is fit for royalty; it sings me a free siren song whenever I'm feeling tired and blue."
"That was bad, and you should feel bad. But if you'd rather nap instead of getting a good stretch outside your room for once…"
Every particle of exhaustion abandoned Mira for parts unknown.
"You'd let me out?"
"I figured that might get your attention. Sure, why―?"
"Whoa, Darkmatter. Don't think I'm not on to how your schemes work. What's the catch?"
"Same catch as with the food and showers: Behave yourself like a nice guest―"
Mira snorted.
"―and you'll find I can be a reasonable host; this is a safe-house, not a dungeon on Planet Z. Anyway, I imagine you're probably bored to tears penned up like a Moozle, and I hate dealing with crying women."
Mira slapped a hand over her mouth.
"Wow. I gave you that one. Maybe I will have you fully trained before the year's out."
"Don' puf yur lu-h."
"Sorry, I don't speak 'Talking-Through-Fingers'."
"I said don't push your luck, Darkmatter."
"Excuse me, princess, but which of us is in the better position for negotiating right now?"
"Are you going to let me out or not?"
"Hmmm… Maybe I will. On the other hand, maybe I…shouldn't? You might rush me and try to pick my brain with your creepy Tangean powers once you're out – it wouldn't end well for you, but you might try. Then again…"
The hand no longer covering Mira's mouth curled its fingers, its nails itching for a nice rake across Warp's smug face. And, oh, how hard she bit her lip…
Footsteps walked away from outside the door, and silence reigned until Mira's pent up aggravation released itself. The mattress endured the (muffled) force of a ragged yowl, and if not for the door opening―
She slammed her temper to a screeching halt.
The door was open.
The door. Was. Open.
Mira stared at what appeared to be part of a living area beyond her room, and after a good minute, she rose to her feet. However, she stood motionless; she knew "too promising" when she saw it. Warp's sense of humor could make him shut the door at any time, most likely when she came within a single stride of relative freedom.
"I can say this much for Zurg's dungeons: they don't play with my expectations," Mira groused.
Steeling herself for disappointment, she walked forward, measuring steps in inches, but her way out remained the farther she ventured. Feeling fresh(er) air blowing softly on her face, she stopped a single footstep before liberty and gave Warp every chance to deliver his cruel punchline.
The door remained open.
Partial disbelief floating around her mind, Mira crossed the threshold and pinched herself twice for absolute certainty upon hearing the door slide shut behind her. She walked free of that bland, depressing room at last. At last!
Yet Mira's joy revived her caution. Warp Darkmatter's domain surrounded her, and she, weaponless, without even a shred of protective outerwear, now needed to navigate unknown territory at least twice the size of where she stayed before. No way could Mira count herself safe until she ditched Agent Z's lair and returned to Star Command.
"Mira to mission log: Miss you, Buzz – more than ever," she said under her breath, giving herself a moment before looking around.
The one most obvious thing she suspected already: A good deal of well-spent unibucks financed the safe-house's design. Top-grade materials formed the floor, windowless walls, and ceiling, and they looked sparkling clean. None of the color or pattern choices made for eyesores either; complementing shades of blues and grays blended nicely with one another―
―and a multi-layered, multi-armed security system waited within the whole artifice. The faster she discovered how she ghosted safely through it, the faster she could scram.
Clues. Piecing together the puzzle of her prison required clues. The safe-house's schematics would make a nice if rather improbable discovery…
Taking a better view of the living area, Mira found it surprisingly smaller than her initial estimation. Most of the space held different furniture pieces – a recliner, a couch, a small beverage table between the two, a lamp resting on the beverage table, and a couple of full bookcases – sitting on a plush carpet. A vid-screen rested inside the wall on the bookcases' right side, embedded shelves beneath them holding several cases of movies, games, and music CDs.
"Actual cases with CDs? Talk about old school," she whispered.
Aside from three closed doors other than hers, Mira saw nothing more to the living area. No gaudy adornments of wealth hung on the walls or sat on display, and the word "luxurious" described the furniture and vid-screen to but a limited point.
One nearly empty room and a rather normal-looking main space – not what Mira expected from a conceited soldier of fortune who "earned" enough personal income to buy his own moon.
"Probably saved any tricking-out for his bedroom, if his precious vase is any indication." She shuddered. "No, Mira, do not imagine anything more than that."
Clues. What clues could she find here? Nothing leaped out at her yet, but maybe the humble surroundings themselves spoke volumes. This safe-house appeared way too ordinary upon first glance, enough that Mira suspected everything linked to the hidden security system somehow.
Mira's compilation of secret escape routes found typically within villain strongholds ran through her mind. Might she find a hidden doorway behind the bookshelves? Perhaps she would stumble upon a hatch beneath one of the furniture pieces?
After a moment's consideration, those ploys seemed more characteristic of a second-rate crime boss with a flair for trite dramatics, and, though Mira hated admitting the reality, Warp operated beyond schemes so obvious when dealing with experienced adversaries. The first twenty passageways Mira reviewed on her list, including the two she already considered, probably ended in incinerators - or a fireweed pit; Darkmatter built this safe-house on Rhizome, after all - or sent victims straight into space. She could not afford underestimating the gimmick-savviness of the double-agent who worked with Buzz Lightyear and Evil Emperor Zurg and lived long enough to enjoy over twenty years' worth of profits from both.
Details. She needed more details.
Mira's next, more cautious steps led her past the outwardly mundane couch, around the possibly treacherous recliner, and toward the simple-seeming vid-screen, her interest piqued by the CDs – hopefully real ones and not triggers for any traps.
"Having fun making the most paranoid Ranger proud, princess?"
This time, Mira's refused jolting; she sensed Warp's presence when she stepped outside her room, and her peripheral vision caught sight of him the moment she passed the recliner. He lounged while thumbing through a book, so it appeared.
She deigned replying, "Practically anything is fun after being freed from a jail cell."
"A jail cell with a comfy mattress, three square meals a day, and access to a nice bathroom and shower. Also, no psychotic cellmates – always a bonus, though the crazies do keep you on your toes."
"Speaking from experience?"
"You can't find every one of Zurg's contacts stinking up the seedy bars and back-alleys of Tradeworld."
"Here I thought stinking up Tradeworld further wasn't physically possible. Don't tell me that cybernetic arm of yours has an 'escape from prison' button."
"…and where would the fun be in that?"
Mira let out a puff through her nose and began reading music CD labels. A few titles she recognized, mostly rock and roll albums Buzz loved playing at his backyard barbecues.
"Didn't peg you as a fan of the classics, princess. Can't blame you, though; 'Free Bird' is super catchy."
Catching herself mid-hum, Mira blushed.
"What?" Warp chuckled. "It's not a bad thing."
"I-I never said it was!"
"Sounds like a classic case of denial."
"That was bad, and you should―"
"Don't wear out one of my lines, princess."
"Even Norbert Klerm doesn't have the money or connections to copyright a universal phrase, Darkmatter."
"Ugh. Here's an extra caveat to our deal: Remind me of that wimpy geek sometime around the fifteenth of Never." Warp flipped a page. "His type of slime is just pathetic."
Limiting her response to, "No arguments there," Mira resumed reading. Rock and roll transitioned into metal, then jazz, and then actual classical music.
Surprise after surprise… Was it Thursday already?
Mira shrugged and examined more CD cases. For all the things she and her father disagreed upon when discussing "outsider inferiority", she hooked King Nova with one listen to her favorite bits of Beethoven. That said, the big B settled into a comfy niche on this shelf, and Mira picked out some other composers she enjoyed: Bach, Mozart, Korsakov, Vivaldi, Tchaikovsky, Mussorgsky, and…Debussy?
"'Clair de Lune', Darkmatter? Awfully soft and romantic…"
"Not stereotyping me over the classical music in general?"
"I have the card if you want me to deal it."
"Personally, I'd discard and draw; you don't have a strong hand keeping ideas that conventional, princess."
"Mm. Maybe not," Mira conceded. She glanced back over the other titles. "Toccata and Fugue in D minor, The Rite of Spring, Beethoven's Symphony No. 6, The Firebird ballet… You've got some grand pieces here."
"Yup." Another page turned. "I know."
"Found a nice little retreaux hole-in-the-wall that was all stocked-up?"
"Nope. Black market."
"You did not," Mira scoffed.
"'S true. I traded twenty menthol KOOLs for the whole batch."
"If that is true, that's the cheapest—"
"Oh, come on, princess. Me, cheap? Remember the private moon? The asteroid summer home? The very well-paid bikini-clad floozies under my employ? I have the cash for a few old CDs and to spare. And menthol KOOLs don't even exist."
"Well, if you haven't already guessed, recreational drugs aren't really part of my spheres of expertise – or practical choice."
"But I can see it now: Your Highness soaring higher than a Roswellian weather balloon thanks to your 'practical' knowledge of illegal, addictive substances used during down-time at Star Command or another one of Tangea's excruciating galas." Mira heard the smirk in Warp's voice as he jabbed, "Gotta have something to take the edge off if there's no one serving wine, right?"
"I think I'll stick with the occasional glass of wine; less likely to get me arrested, humiliated, my brain degenerated, etcetera. In vino veritas, in aqua sanitas and such, you know."
"Eh, not much fun, but if you don't have your health…"
"Like that time you decided to test the 'beer and liquor' theory at your twenty-third birthday party, ended up hospitalized for three days, and almost got discharged from Star Command? Oh, and that's not counting you upchucking on Buzz. Twice."
Mira, now examining the video games, none of which she played or even knew, heard the book slap shut before Warp exclaimed, "Oh, for cryin' out loud, does the entire Galactic Alliance need to know that story?"
"It's a rather effective cautionary tale. I prefer the unabridged version Buzz brings out for the first-year rookies. Nice and gruesome."
"So, imagining unholy taco and snow-cone abominations nauseates you, but not the joys of my experience with alcohol poisoning? Tch, I'm glad my suffering amuses you, ya little sadist."
Oh, how she contemplated reigniting the argument from the Altair Rigel affair…but upon remembering her lack of escape-helpful clues and details, Mira stood, stepped back two paces, and switched tack.
"You haven't answered my initial question. Clair de Lune?" she asked, her line of sight tracing the wall before her and a patch of ceiling above.
"Don't have to answer anything."
"Ooh." Mira brought forth her best nosy tabloid reporter impression. "Am I scratching the surface of the Warp Darkmatter's true psyche? Have I, perhaps, caught sight of the dark-enshrouded phantoms of your surely haunted, woeful past that maybe, just maybe drove you to consummately adopt the dreaded persona of Agent Z?"
"Yes. From finding atypical musical compositions on my CD shelf, you're so close to unraveling the haunted, woeful mystery of me, Princess Nova. Bravo. I simply cannot wait for you to blind the Galactic Alliance with your clarifying discovery."
Mira couldn't help a brief chuckle. "There is such a thing as too much sarcasm, Darkmatter."
"Not in my house, there isn't."
"Hmph. On your part."
"Exactly. You catch on quick when you aren't chomping through your bit."
"Certainly not a bit of your design."
"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it, princess."
"Not happening."
"Which part? Knocking it or trying it?"
"What do you think?"
"Man, this whole hypothetical you-and-me thing really bothers you, doesn't it?"
Mira wheeled around. "If you'd stop being such a shameless fl…"
No female Space Ranger, not even the most sheltered first-year rookies, avoided getting an unexpected eyeful of shirtless man at one point or another; and those ladies who ran patrols on trash-heaps like Tradeworld saw far worse. Mira never hardened herself fully to either eventuality – her nature didn't work that way – but she adopted tried and true coping methods and moved on.
Then there occurred nastiness like Zurg's "Green Winds of Change" mutagen or the devolution gas incident and the aftermath. Or that one time Booster and XR forced the former into a Ranger suit about three sizes too small. Just…ick.
Although, in this moment, "ick" failed phasing into Mira's mind at all. The reverberating voice of Cirra Mistral, Star Command's ruling Queen of Flings, let fly her trademark phrase instead, a languid, drawling "Smokin'."
Warp didn't even bother looking up from his book.
"My face is still up here, princess. Hasn't moved or anything."
Blushing furiously, Mira felt torn between three opposing options: suffering through her embarrassment with royal dignity, letting a punch loose at Darkmatter and suffering the consequences, or, the more appealing choice, saving her dignity and his security system the effort and slugging herself instead.
Buzz Lightyear, her captain, her inspiration as a Space Ranger, her friend, lied on death's doorstep because of this career criminal who viewed the Galactic Alliance and everyone in it as sources of entertainment and exploitation. Stepping onto Karn while naked and holding bloody steaks held more logic than Mira allowing her ridiculous, adolescent sexual tension to continue any further. What would Buzz even say if he knew?
He needed no words. Merely seeing her friend and captain's disappointment at her stupidity would suffice.
"The pwincess get her widdle feewings hurt?"
The condescension – the audacity – of the question shot through Mira's chest. Did she…get her feelings…hurt? Hurt?
"Huh?" Warp gave her a strange look. "Is that a trick question?"
"…excessive emotions…impair your judgment…"
Excess emotions? Of course she had—
—lost control, screaming while hurling everything she could grasp between her fingers at her father, through whom the projectiles phased harmlessly. Gripping nothing but air at last, Mira ran to King Nova and began pounding her small fists against him.
"Stop it! STOP IT, IT'S NOT FAIR! She's gone, so STOP IT! LEAVE HER ALONE!"
"You will be queen someday, Mira, no matter how you want this to end." King Nova's voice, unbroken by his daughter's attack, exuded an uncharacteristic hush. "You must learn to control these overreactions before then or you will rule poorly."
Mira shouted—
"I AM NOT OVERREACTING!"
The shout's shrillness surprised even Mira when it rang across the safe-house walls, and the following silence hit a point near deafening.
Checking out of reality for a few seconds and then screaming context-lacking ravings into the face of a wanted felon couched inside his own, secured abode… She passed officially from possible-if-extremely-improbable post-life fantasy straight into Crazytown. Mira garnered no mirth at Warp's baffled face, and it seemed neither she nor he knew how to proceed, although Mira's ears might have caught the sound of a mechanical, not-ceiling-fan thing rotating overhead. Though, even if she resisted throwing any punches now, Dr. Animus would still make a field day out of her next psych eval.
"…excessive emotions…impair your judgment…"
"Stop it," Mira commanded, erecting every mental shield King Nova taught her. "Whatever you're doing, Darkmatter, just stop it already. I've had enough."
"Hey, I'm not doing anything except reading this stupid book and trying to hold a decent conversation here, but that last one's apparently me expecting too much." Warp, fixing an incensed glare on Mira, slammed the book shut again and tossed it onto the beverage table. "I, for one, have had enough of Your Majesty's royal Tangean psycho-schizo drama unfolding in my house! Since I have no clue what's going on, why don't you 'just stop it'?"
"One: I am not schizophrenic! Two: It's 'psychic', not 'psycho'! Three: I'm just as in-the-dark as you are with this whole situation and would be more than happy to cut out whatever is screwing around with both of us!"
"One: You could'a fooled me! Two: Same difference! Three: Nice sentiment, but it doesn't buy the bread!"
Running her hands through her hair, Mira growled, "Okay, 'psychic' and 'psycho' are completely different – not that you bother to find out how!"
"The only thing I wanna find out is how you got in here so I can fix the gigantic problem with my security and then launch you straight back to Star Command! Let Nebula and the Rangers have fun dealing with your damage. Or maybe the void of uncharted space would take care of you better!"
"No convenient incinerator or skeletal closet into which you can stuff me?"
"Don't tempt me, princess."
The air between the two of them thickened and shuddered with a charge, their two furious wills clashing into each other.
Besides King Nova, Commander Nebula, or Buzz – or herself – Mira never met anyone with Warp Darkmatter's aggravating stubbornness - but at least she, her father, her commander, and her captain actually cared about others. Darkmatter's sheer selfishness rivaled the entire Tangean royal court! Only the nobles' culturally-ingrained insipidity worked in their favor grace-wise, but Warp, more willfully ruthless and sly than a Karnian viper-toothed vulpid, suffered from anything but. How Buzz could convince himself so thoroughly that Agent Z would someday commit himself toward better things beggared belief.
I want to pull out every single one of Warp's bullheaded hairs by the root – and Buzz's, too! Stupid, persistent Buzz and his stupid, soft, loving heart–!
Suddenly, the edges of Mira's mind prickled.
"...back then...why can't you let it out? ...let it out? …let it out?"
Huh? Buzz? This time, his voice did not come from her memory, and she latched onto the voice with all her strength. Let what out? What do you mean?
"...help if you'd let me! ...let me! ...let me!"
It felt like someone started pressing their fingers into Mira's brain. Buzz's voice sounded so faint, close to fading away altogether, and the more she focused on holding onto it, the more pain and pressure began building throughout her head.
What are you talking about, Buzz?
"...on you alone! ...alone!"
What, Buzz? What's on me alone?
"...their deaths…!"
Ice stabbed her heart, and she gasped -
- which turned into a scream. Her father stood over her, but she could see through -
- green skin to the bone, the remaining pockmarked flesh seared, bloody, and necrotic beyond recognition -
The sentence, "I need to be alone," rushed straight from Mira's lungs, the princess nearly breathless with fear and revulsion bubbling in her stomach. She rushed past Warp's couch to the door of her room, which opened when she reached it, and fell onto her mattress. There she remained, curled into a trembling ball, praying for the all-too-vivid images to leave her alone, until she somehow fell asleep.