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om_mainQuentin gets his revenge. Unfortunately for everyone, it doesn't go quite as planned.
Disclaimer: Plot involves mental manipulation, both intentional and accidental. Log contains various Disney songs, which deserve a warning all their own.
Quentin leaned back in his desk chair, his feet up on his desk. And smirked. It was perfect - all the preliminary tests had been huge successes, and he felt confident about moving on to the next stage. Okay, granted, Becky wouldn't be happy about him messing with Illyana's friend or brother or whatever the weird relationship the girl had with Rankin was, but whatever. He hadn't come this far to back off now, and what better subject for an unwilling-participant test run than the guy who’d set him up and told him to come up with a plan that he was just going to mock anyway?.
Besides, it wasn't as if he was going to hurt the guy. He was just going to have him make an ass of himself in the privacy of his own mind, and leave him scratching his head and trying to figure out what had happened.
He closed his eyes and focused in on what passed for Rankin's brain, his smirk widening as he realized that a) Rankin wasn't alone, and b) demon-girl was chattering about some sequel to a musical she'd seen watched on TV, and how it didn't measure up to the original. Without skipping a beat, he switched over to her head, and nodded slowly. Not what he'd had in mind, but honestly, how could he pass up an opportunity to cast Rankin as a singing idiot surfer kid?
Answer: He couldn't. Carefully, he plucked first Illyana's consciousness, then Rankin's into the scenario forming in his mind. Granted, he'd never done two simultaneously, but hell. It wasn't as if they had a whole brain between them, and he'd need Becky's friend's knowledge of the movie to plug in the details. It'd work. Piece of cake.
_______________________
Cal blinked as Illyana's room was suddenly replaced by a sunny beach. He'd gone from sitting on Illyana's bed to sitting in the sand, and he got to his feet immediately, watching the same confusion he was feeling displayed on Illyana's features. "Becky?" he ventured, wondering if there was any reason why she would do something like this. Not that he minded being on the beach (fuck, he missed it), but this was way out of the blue.
And what was with this dude watching them pointedly as he walked past, playing the ukulele?
Illyana frowned, feeling just as confused as Cal as she got to her feet. It didn't feel like one of Becky's daydreams - she wouldn't have been anywhere near as confused if it had been - and something about the guy with the ukulele...
Oh shit. She opened her mouth, prepared to tell Cal that while she wasn't sure how, she definitely recognized where, but what came out wasn't what she expected.
"What's going on?" she sang, forehead furrowing as her hand rose to her chest.
"This can't be happening," Cal countered, right on cue.
"Don't tell me it's a song." The response was immediate, and heartfelt. Because honestly, why were they singing music from Teen Beach Movie, anyway?"
"It's a song," Cal confirmed, as gloomily as he could pull off in semi-song.
"This wasn't how I planned it," Illyana went on, "Can't you see that this has gone too far?"
No, but seriously, what the fuck. "Please just pause the DVR," Cal went on, singing more properly this time. "Someone won't you make it stop?" That bit, at least, was 100% genuine. He'd really like for this bullshit to stop, especially since he was now trying to stop himself from going through a choreography to... whatever this was.
"I'm losing my mind!" Illyana protested, throwing her arms up in the air as she headed over (unwillingly, but she didn't seem to have much choice) and plopped down on a bench.
"I don't see your problem," Cal sang helpfully. Despite his words, he at least sounded no more enthused than she did as he plunked down next to her on the bench
"Everything I say it rhymes." And now their feet were moving, in some kind of synchronized...non-dance. "Here comes another line..."
"Just close your eyes if you don't wanna see," Cal went on singing, covering her eyes with his hands. When she pushed them away, they both broke out into jazz hands. "What's this choreography?" Their feet were moving again, and why did this have to happen right when he didn't currently have any psi defenses in his arsenal? This had to be psi. "Someone won't you make - it - stop!" As Yana opened her arms on his last word, he was thrown back off the bench and rolled in the sand, immediately coming to his feet.
Illyana's expression switched rapidly from dismay to amusement as Cal regained his feet, and despite lingering confusion, she was grinning as she got up and threw her arms out side. "Ohhhh, I can't stop singing," she sang along with Cal, then began, for no reason she could determine, tossing her head from side to side. "Make it stop, make it stop, am I real or just a prop?". Cal, fortunately, actually did stop her head simply by clamping a hand on either side for a moment, and when he let go she bent over, nearly double, just in time to avoid his leg swinging over her head. She came back up a moment later, grinning. This was weird, definitely - but she had to admit, it was kind of fun.
Cal wasn't finding it very fun to get his mind fucked with - although the back flip he'd just done to get down from the bench was pretty cool, fine. "Ooooh," they sang on, "I can't stop singing..." They jogged up to a cardboard cutout depicting a mermaid and triton where they could stick their heads and arms in. "So let's just talk... Talk, talk." They started to do a weird little half-assed choreography with just their arms as he went on on his own, "It's just a song... An inefficient way to move the story along..."
"I'm done!" Illyana covered her mouth with her hands, and the next line, fortunately, was garbled into incoherence. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to break whatever kind of spell they were under, because Cal chimed in, right on cue, with "You're just being cynical."
She wrinkled her nose at him, but grinned. "No, it's just the principle. Someone won't you make it, make it stop?"
"Don't make it stop!" Cal protested as they pulled back from the cardboard cutout. No, seriously, make it stop.
"Ooooh," they were back to singing together, "I can't stop singing. Make it stop, make it stop, am I real or just a prop?" There was a cheesy backdrop behind them now, blue sheets waving about to represent the sea, and they swayed in tempo with the music. "Ooooh, I can't stop singing, so let's just talk. Talk, talk, talk. Talk, talk, talk. Talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk."
"We're trapped inside a musical revue." Illyana turned towards Cal, grabbing his arms for a moment as if there was some possibility he hadn't noticed that, and then swinging sideways, her arms spread wide.
"At least I'm here with you," he countered, swinging her arm up and spinning her underneath it. "I don't want to make it stop."
The people holding the sheets behind them scurried away, and Illyana grinned impishly as the surface beneath them changed from sand to a yellow, polka dotted solid surface. Okay, maybe this was horrible, and she did want it to stop, but...
Yeah. She definitely remembered what came next in the movie. No way she wanted it to stop now.
Cal frowned down at the floor, and only then noticed that his shoes had very much changed. To tap shoes. Before he could properly curse whoever it was that was responsible for this, they'd started singing the chorus again. While tap dancing. "Ooooh, I can't stop singing... Make it stop, make it stop, am I real or just a prop? Ooooh, I can't stop singing. Does it stop? Does it stop? Is it ever gonna stop? Oooooh, I can't stop singing, so let's just talk."
Illyana stood, trying to catch her breath, then burst out laughing as the guy with the ukulele walked past once more. She turned back to Cal and grinned. "Okay, no idea what's going on? But tell me that wasn't fun?"
"Someone's fucking with our minds and you think it's fun?" Cal retorted, glaring at the guy with the ukulele until he hurried past.
Illyana's grin turned sheepish, and she shrugged. "I always wanted to be in a musical?" She paused for a moment, and shook her head. "I don't think it was Becky, though. It would've ended by now, and anyway, she'd have put us in Once More With Feeling, not Teen Beach Movie."
"I'd better have been Spike," Cal muttered under his breath, still glowering as he looked around the beach. "Okay, whoever? This isn't fucking funny!" Whoever it was was doing it from far enough away that he couldn't lock on to their mutation, too.
"Maybe we should go to the next scene?" Illyana asked doubtfully. The problem was, she couldn't really remember what that was. She grinned a little. "Or, y'know, I could try thinking about another movie. I was thinking about this when we came here."
"Do you think it might be another baby animal fuck-up?" Cal asked, looking around and trying to do his best not to think of another musical.
"Maybe?" Illyana considered it, then frowned and shook her head. "Wanda moved into Tony's after graduation - Pietro told me. There isn't anyone else who can do that, is there?" Her lingering amusement drained away, and she shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. Being in a musical was fun. Being stuck in one was another thing entirely. "Maybe we can fast forward to the end? I remember the end. We just need a thunderstorm and a surf board."
"I vote no on the t-storm," Cal stated immediately.
"Well, I'm not sure what to do, then." Illyana made a face. "I don't remember what happens next in the movie."
_______________________
Quentin groaned. Right. Just what he needed; Becky's demon-girl friend apparently only paid attention to the parts of movies she liked. Not only were they aware that something strange was going on (Had Becky been aware that she wasn't actually part of her episode? He'd never thought to ask her), but trying to keep both of them seeing the same thing was giving him a splitting headache. He wasn't ready to give up, though. This was a brilliant idea; it just needed a little fine tuning, was all. He dug around in Illyana's head a bit more, trying to find the movie's next scene, and instead found a mash-up of various Disney movies he was pretty sure didn't fit together at all...
With an evil grin, Quentin adjusted his position a bit and re-closed his eyes. They knew something was off anyway, right? Might as well make use of it. Tossing them from one Disney musical to the next would work just fine. He'd just use whatever popped into her head next.
_______________________
Sometime later, Illyana found herself sitting on the grass in what appeared to be someone's backyard, and sighed. Right. Next movie. She didn't even recognize the setting of this one, but at least she wasn't pitching baseball again while Cal bemoaned his inability to dance, on stage diva-ing, or defending the status quo over lunch in what had looked way too much like her old high school cafeteria.
She glanced around to see where Cal was this time, and let out a sigh of relief when she found him seated next to her holding a guitar. He looked frustrated, though, and she leaned over to squeeze his shoulder. After all, it could be worse.
She opened her mouth to say as much, and instead (and was it sad that she no longer even felt surprised?) found herself singing.
"I can't pretend to know how you feel
But know that I'm here, know that I'm real
Say what you want or don't talk at all
I'm not gonna let you fall."
Tilting her head, she offered a crooked smile and reached over to rest a hand on his knee. As songs went, this wasn't so bad, really. She'd been wanting to say some of it, anyway.
"Reach for my hand 'cause it's held out for you
My shoulders are small but you can cry on them too
"Everything changes but one thing is true, understand
We'll always be more than a band."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Cal sang after her, as if confirming what she'd just said. He was about ready to punch someone over this whole bullshit, although he was trying to keep his cool. It was probably just another accident, after all.
"You used to brave the world,
All on your own
Now I won't let go do it alone."
At least he was playing the guitar, which was way better than some of what they'd had to get up to since that first tap dancing horror show.
"Be who you wanna be
Always stand tall
Not gonna let you fall"
And he had to admit that corny though this song was (seriously, couldn't they do some Tommy or something?), the lyrics kinda hit the mark when it came to Illyana and him, apart from that 'band' bit. He was holding her gaze as he kept on singing, frustration warring with the honesty behind the lyrics.
"Reach for my hand
'Cause it's held out for you
My shoulders are strong
But you can cry on them too
Everything changes
But one thing is true, understand
We'll always be more than a band"
Illyana's offered a genuine smile, and she shrugged and admitted, "I never knew you could take me so far,"
"I've always wanted to hope that you are the one I need," Cal countered, and she chimed in for the refrain.
"Reach for my hand
'Cause it's held out for you
My shoulders are strong
But you can cry on them too."
"Everything changes
But one thing is true, understand
We'll always be more than a band"
"Reach for my hand 'cause it's held out for you," Cal sang on his own, fingers strumming on the guitar.
"My shoulders are strong but you can cry on them too," Yana went on, and then they sang in unison again.
"Everything changes
But one thing is true, understand
We'll always be more than a band"
Cal was grateful for the end of the song as he let the sound of the last chord fade away, and very characteristically chose to ignore how much they'd just said to each other that was actually true. Instead, he focused on his ongoing anger as he set the guitar to the side and got to his feet. "Seriously, there's gotta be a way to make it stop before we're flying on a carpet singing about a whole new world."
"Please don't even say that," Illyana begged. She got to her feet and stretched, also glossing right over the song's meaning. They'd sung it, end of story - it really didn't need to be discussed. "I loved that movie, but if someone forces me to ride around on a flying carpet, they're seriously going to pay for it when I find out who they are. Assuming I don't panic and fall off."
"I don't think this fucked up... thing would let you," Cal pointed out, running a hand back through his hair. Whatever it was was using them like puppets, after all.
"Mmm, point. Still." Illyana frowned. "It's weird. All the movies we've ended up in? We're always in the scenes I've watched over and over, trying to figure out the choreography. Well, all but that last one. I'm not sure where that came from." Okay, she knew the movie, yeah - she'd watched the YouTube for Breakthrough a few dozen times, at least. But it definitely didn't fit the trend.
********
It didn't fit the trend. Quentin groaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His face had gone pale, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of trying to keep the sim under control and the other minds at the school out. All of which was easier said than done, and he was starting to wonder if he should just shut it down. He hadn't actually set that last scene, just sent a general compulsion for them to spill their guts in song. Which - yeah, okay, it'd been amusing, but there'd been a definite lack of dancing involved, and his head was killing him, and...
"I CAME IN LIKE A WREEEEEEEEEEEECKING BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL!" The voice didn't so much as enter Quentin's mind so much as barrel through the unlocked door, like Kramer on an episode of Seinfeld, except it was an operatic Santo Vaccarro, jamming out in his room.
"Arrrgggh!" Quentin grabbed at his head as Vaccarro's mental voice slammed through the tatters of his shields, and the delicate balance he'd been almost managing to maintain between the sim and the inanely banal minds of Rankin and Rasputin exploded. On a positive note (because honestly, he'd had enough of their minds to last a lifetime), it catapulted both of them out of the sim and back into their own heads.
On a negative note? The compulsion he'd been forcing upon them, to sing whatever they were thinking, projected to whatever minds had been encroaching on his subconscious.
Quentin, much to his relief, knew of neither. He'd already passed out.
Disclaimer: Plot involves mental manipulation, both intentional and accidental. Log contains various Disney songs, which deserve a warning all their own.
Quentin leaned back in his desk chair, his feet up on his desk. And smirked. It was perfect - all the preliminary tests had been huge successes, and he felt confident about moving on to the next stage. Okay, granted, Becky wouldn't be happy about him messing with Illyana's friend or brother or whatever the weird relationship the girl had with Rankin was, but whatever. He hadn't come this far to back off now, and what better subject for an unwilling-participant test run than the guy who’d set him up and told him to come up with a plan that he was just going to mock anyway?.
Besides, it wasn't as if he was going to hurt the guy. He was just going to have him make an ass of himself in the privacy of his own mind, and leave him scratching his head and trying to figure out what had happened.
He closed his eyes and focused in on what passed for Rankin's brain, his smirk widening as he realized that a) Rankin wasn't alone, and b) demon-girl was chattering about some sequel to a musical she'd seen watched on TV, and how it didn't measure up to the original. Without skipping a beat, he switched over to her head, and nodded slowly. Not what he'd had in mind, but honestly, how could he pass up an opportunity to cast Rankin as a singing idiot surfer kid?
Answer: He couldn't. Carefully, he plucked first Illyana's consciousness, then Rankin's into the scenario forming in his mind. Granted, he'd never done two simultaneously, but hell. It wasn't as if they had a whole brain between them, and he'd need Becky's friend's knowledge of the movie to plug in the details. It'd work. Piece of cake.
_______________________
Cal blinked as Illyana's room was suddenly replaced by a sunny beach. He'd gone from sitting on Illyana's bed to sitting in the sand, and he got to his feet immediately, watching the same confusion he was feeling displayed on Illyana's features. "Becky?" he ventured, wondering if there was any reason why she would do something like this. Not that he minded being on the beach (fuck, he missed it), but this was way out of the blue.
And what was with this dude watching them pointedly as he walked past, playing the ukulele?
Illyana frowned, feeling just as confused as Cal as she got to her feet. It didn't feel like one of Becky's daydreams - she wouldn't have been anywhere near as confused if it had been - and something about the guy with the ukulele...
Oh shit. She opened her mouth, prepared to tell Cal that while she wasn't sure how, she definitely recognized where, but what came out wasn't what she expected.
"What's going on?" she sang, forehead furrowing as her hand rose to her chest.
"This can't be happening," Cal countered, right on cue.
"Don't tell me it's a song." The response was immediate, and heartfelt. Because honestly, why were they singing music from Teen Beach Movie, anyway?"
"It's a song," Cal confirmed, as gloomily as he could pull off in semi-song.
"This wasn't how I planned it," Illyana went on, "Can't you see that this has gone too far?"
No, but seriously, what the fuck. "Please just pause the DVR," Cal went on, singing more properly this time. "Someone won't you make it stop?" That bit, at least, was 100% genuine. He'd really like for this bullshit to stop, especially since he was now trying to stop himself from going through a choreography to... whatever this was.
"I'm losing my mind!" Illyana protested, throwing her arms up in the air as she headed over (unwillingly, but she didn't seem to have much choice) and plopped down on a bench.
"I don't see your problem," Cal sang helpfully. Despite his words, he at least sounded no more enthused than she did as he plunked down next to her on the bench
"Everything I say it rhymes." And now their feet were moving, in some kind of synchronized...non-dance. "Here comes another line..."
"Just close your eyes if you don't wanna see," Cal went on singing, covering her eyes with his hands. When she pushed them away, they both broke out into jazz hands. "What's this choreography?" Their feet were moving again, and why did this have to happen right when he didn't currently have any psi defenses in his arsenal? This had to be psi. "Someone won't you make - it - stop!" As Yana opened her arms on his last word, he was thrown back off the bench and rolled in the sand, immediately coming to his feet.
Illyana's expression switched rapidly from dismay to amusement as Cal regained his feet, and despite lingering confusion, she was grinning as she got up and threw her arms out side. "Ohhhh, I can't stop singing," she sang along with Cal, then began, for no reason she could determine, tossing her head from side to side. "Make it stop, make it stop, am I real or just a prop?". Cal, fortunately, actually did stop her head simply by clamping a hand on either side for a moment, and when he let go she bent over, nearly double, just in time to avoid his leg swinging over her head. She came back up a moment later, grinning. This was weird, definitely - but she had to admit, it was kind of fun.
Cal wasn't finding it very fun to get his mind fucked with - although the back flip he'd just done to get down from the bench was pretty cool, fine. "Ooooh," they sang on, "I can't stop singing..." They jogged up to a cardboard cutout depicting a mermaid and triton where they could stick their heads and arms in. "So let's just talk... Talk, talk." They started to do a weird little half-assed choreography with just their arms as he went on on his own, "It's just a song... An inefficient way to move the story along..."
"I'm done!" Illyana covered her mouth with her hands, and the next line, fortunately, was garbled into incoherence. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to break whatever kind of spell they were under, because Cal chimed in, right on cue, with "You're just being cynical."
She wrinkled her nose at him, but grinned. "No, it's just the principle. Someone won't you make it, make it stop?"
"Don't make it stop!" Cal protested as they pulled back from the cardboard cutout. No, seriously, make it stop.
"Ooooh," they were back to singing together, "I can't stop singing. Make it stop, make it stop, am I real or just a prop?" There was a cheesy backdrop behind them now, blue sheets waving about to represent the sea, and they swayed in tempo with the music. "Ooooh, I can't stop singing, so let's just talk. Talk, talk, talk. Talk, talk, talk. Talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk."
"We're trapped inside a musical revue." Illyana turned towards Cal, grabbing his arms for a moment as if there was some possibility he hadn't noticed that, and then swinging sideways, her arms spread wide.
"At least I'm here with you," he countered, swinging her arm up and spinning her underneath it. "I don't want to make it stop."
The people holding the sheets behind them scurried away, and Illyana grinned impishly as the surface beneath them changed from sand to a yellow, polka dotted solid surface. Okay, maybe this was horrible, and she did want it to stop, but...
Yeah. She definitely remembered what came next in the movie. No way she wanted it to stop now.
Cal frowned down at the floor, and only then noticed that his shoes had very much changed. To tap shoes. Before he could properly curse whoever it was that was responsible for this, they'd started singing the chorus again. While tap dancing. "Ooooh, I can't stop singing... Make it stop, make it stop, am I real or just a prop? Ooooh, I can't stop singing. Does it stop? Does it stop? Is it ever gonna stop? Oooooh, I can't stop singing, so let's just talk."
Illyana stood, trying to catch her breath, then burst out laughing as the guy with the ukulele walked past once more. She turned back to Cal and grinned. "Okay, no idea what's going on? But tell me that wasn't fun?"
"Someone's fucking with our minds and you think it's fun?" Cal retorted, glaring at the guy with the ukulele until he hurried past.
Illyana's grin turned sheepish, and she shrugged. "I always wanted to be in a musical?" She paused for a moment, and shook her head. "I don't think it was Becky, though. It would've ended by now, and anyway, she'd have put us in Once More With Feeling, not Teen Beach Movie."
"I'd better have been Spike," Cal muttered under his breath, still glowering as he looked around the beach. "Okay, whoever? This isn't fucking funny!" Whoever it was was doing it from far enough away that he couldn't lock on to their mutation, too.
"Maybe we should go to the next scene?" Illyana asked doubtfully. The problem was, she couldn't really remember what that was. She grinned a little. "Or, y'know, I could try thinking about another movie. I was thinking about this when we came here."
"Do you think it might be another baby animal fuck-up?" Cal asked, looking around and trying to do his best not to think of another musical.
"Maybe?" Illyana considered it, then frowned and shook her head. "Wanda moved into Tony's after graduation - Pietro told me. There isn't anyone else who can do that, is there?" Her lingering amusement drained away, and she shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. Being in a musical was fun. Being stuck in one was another thing entirely. "Maybe we can fast forward to the end? I remember the end. We just need a thunderstorm and a surf board."
"I vote no on the t-storm," Cal stated immediately.
"Well, I'm not sure what to do, then." Illyana made a face. "I don't remember what happens next in the movie."
_______________________
Quentin groaned. Right. Just what he needed; Becky's demon-girl friend apparently only paid attention to the parts of movies she liked. Not only were they aware that something strange was going on (Had Becky been aware that she wasn't actually part of her episode? He'd never thought to ask her), but trying to keep both of them seeing the same thing was giving him a splitting headache. He wasn't ready to give up, though. This was a brilliant idea; it just needed a little fine tuning, was all. He dug around in Illyana's head a bit more, trying to find the movie's next scene, and instead found a mash-up of various Disney movies he was pretty sure didn't fit together at all...
With an evil grin, Quentin adjusted his position a bit and re-closed his eyes. They knew something was off anyway, right? Might as well make use of it. Tossing them from one Disney musical to the next would work just fine. He'd just use whatever popped into her head next.
_______________________
Sometime later, Illyana found herself sitting on the grass in what appeared to be someone's backyard, and sighed. Right. Next movie. She didn't even recognize the setting of this one, but at least she wasn't pitching baseball again while Cal bemoaned his inability to dance, on stage diva-ing, or defending the status quo over lunch in what had looked way too much like her old high school cafeteria.
She glanced around to see where Cal was this time, and let out a sigh of relief when she found him seated next to her holding a guitar. He looked frustrated, though, and she leaned over to squeeze his shoulder. After all, it could be worse.
She opened her mouth to say as much, and instead (and was it sad that she no longer even felt surprised?) found herself singing.
"I can't pretend to know how you feel
But know that I'm here, know that I'm real
Say what you want or don't talk at all
I'm not gonna let you fall."
Tilting her head, she offered a crooked smile and reached over to rest a hand on his knee. As songs went, this wasn't so bad, really. She'd been wanting to say some of it, anyway.
"Reach for my hand 'cause it's held out for you
My shoulders are small but you can cry on them too
"Everything changes but one thing is true, understand
We'll always be more than a band."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Cal sang after her, as if confirming what she'd just said. He was about ready to punch someone over this whole bullshit, although he was trying to keep his cool. It was probably just another accident, after all.
"You used to brave the world,
All on your own
Now I won't let go do it alone."
At least he was playing the guitar, which was way better than some of what they'd had to get up to since that first tap dancing horror show.
"Be who you wanna be
Always stand tall
Not gonna let you fall"
And he had to admit that corny though this song was (seriously, couldn't they do some Tommy or something?), the lyrics kinda hit the mark when it came to Illyana and him, apart from that 'band' bit. He was holding her gaze as he kept on singing, frustration warring with the honesty behind the lyrics.
"Reach for my hand
'Cause it's held out for you
My shoulders are strong
But you can cry on them too
Everything changes
But one thing is true, understand
We'll always be more than a band"
Illyana's offered a genuine smile, and she shrugged and admitted, "I never knew you could take me so far,"
"I've always wanted to hope that you are the one I need," Cal countered, and she chimed in for the refrain.
"Reach for my hand
'Cause it's held out for you
My shoulders are strong
But you can cry on them too."
"Everything changes
But one thing is true, understand
We'll always be more than a band"
"Reach for my hand 'cause it's held out for you," Cal sang on his own, fingers strumming on the guitar.
"My shoulders are strong but you can cry on them too," Yana went on, and then they sang in unison again.
"Everything changes
But one thing is true, understand
We'll always be more than a band"
Cal was grateful for the end of the song as he let the sound of the last chord fade away, and very characteristically chose to ignore how much they'd just said to each other that was actually true. Instead, he focused on his ongoing anger as he set the guitar to the side and got to his feet. "Seriously, there's gotta be a way to make it stop before we're flying on a carpet singing about a whole new world."
"Please don't even say that," Illyana begged. She got to her feet and stretched, also glossing right over the song's meaning. They'd sung it, end of story - it really didn't need to be discussed. "I loved that movie, but if someone forces me to ride around on a flying carpet, they're seriously going to pay for it when I find out who they are. Assuming I don't panic and fall off."
"I don't think this fucked up... thing would let you," Cal pointed out, running a hand back through his hair. Whatever it was was using them like puppets, after all.
"Mmm, point. Still." Illyana frowned. "It's weird. All the movies we've ended up in? We're always in the scenes I've watched over and over, trying to figure out the choreography. Well, all but that last one. I'm not sure where that came from." Okay, she knew the movie, yeah - she'd watched the YouTube for Breakthrough a few dozen times, at least. But it definitely didn't fit the trend.
********
It didn't fit the trend. Quentin groaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His face had gone pale, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of trying to keep the sim under control and the other minds at the school out. All of which was easier said than done, and he was starting to wonder if he should just shut it down. He hadn't actually set that last scene, just sent a general compulsion for them to spill their guts in song. Which - yeah, okay, it'd been amusing, but there'd been a definite lack of dancing involved, and his head was killing him, and...
"I CAME IN LIKE A WREEEEEEEEEEEECKING BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL!" The voice didn't so much as enter Quentin's mind so much as barrel through the unlocked door, like Kramer on an episode of Seinfeld, except it was an operatic Santo Vaccarro, jamming out in his room.
"Arrrgggh!" Quentin grabbed at his head as Vaccarro's mental voice slammed through the tatters of his shields, and the delicate balance he'd been almost managing to maintain between the sim and the inanely banal minds of Rankin and Rasputin exploded. On a positive note (because honestly, he'd had enough of their minds to last a lifetime), it catapulted both of them out of the sim and back into their own heads.
On a negative note? The compulsion he'd been forcing upon them, to sing whatever they were thinking, projected to whatever minds had been encroaching on his subconscious.
Quentin, much to his relief, knew of neither. He'd already passed out.
