Razputin was fine. He was definitely unconscious, but still…fine. Augustus let out a sigh of relief he had no idea he'd been holding. There were no more threats here. His son would be alright.

He cast an anxious glance back at the caravan behind them. This must be the entrance to his son's mind, surrounded by the thick fog. No doubt it was part of his mental defense. Sometimes trying to get into his son's mind felt like he was slamming up against a wall of nails, others it felt simply too far out of his reach. Then again, maybe the fog represented something else.

And the caravan…something pulled his attention to it, demanded he come closer. He should have already known what was inside, but there was something else that pulled at him. Concern, perhaps? No…it was something else: Curiosity. Another trait Razputin and his father shared, it seemed.

Well, it couldn't hurt. Making sure his son's mind was still intact after that scuffle was important, after all. After a final glance back at the two boys and the bunny, Augustus ducked into the caravan (who made doors this small, anyway?) and passed through the hall.

Inside, there were still posters from the circus for several of their attractions, but most of them were faded, torn up, peeling off, or had already fallen to the ground. In their place were posters depicting various scenes from True Psychic Tales, although one circus poster remained: the one depicting the Aquato family.

As Augustus made his way out of the hallway, he found nothing but a mess of debris waiting for him, the tornado still picking it away from the mindscape, albeit much more gently this time. Augustus gave a quiet sigh. What he had seen before the mayhem must have been Razputin's reflection on the circus. It was no secret that the boy found that life painfully dull at times, entertaining the notion of living the life of a hero straight out of a comic book.

There were bits and pieces in place already, slowly revealing Razputin's newer psyche. It was eerily silent, and although remnants of the circus still refused to be permanently removed from the boy's psyche, it had for the most part disappeared.

There was, however, one tucked away corner that didn't quite fit. The colors seemed to shift to different hues, and even the light seemed to dim. The lively air of the circus - much less twisted this time - still remained, and there stood a single, small tent. Augustus turned away from the central ring and made his way into the darkness.

The moment he pushed his way past the cloth door, the scenery changed entirely. No longer were the cloth walls dull; instead they were warm, colorful and inviting. Although this room was still as silent as the rest of Razputin's mind - at least at the moment, it was silent - it wasn't the kind of eerie silence that had been in the rest of his mind. This silence was a peaceful one; the kind Augustus was usually fond of after a long day of performing in front of particularly enthusiastic crowds. Yes, this room was much nicer than the rest of the place was.

Although it closely resembled Razputin's tent from the caravan, certain aspects seemed different. There was a bunk bed in place of his sleeping bag, at the feet of each bunk a small chalk board. At the top, someone had scrawled "Raz" on the chalkboard, while the bottom one remained blank and clearly unused. The bed looked as though it had been recently used; the pillow was lying off to the side in the middle and the blankets were pulled mostly out of place.

What Augustus noticed more than anything, however, were the posters and mounds of books lying about the room. The books were all, of course, issues of True Psychic Tales, and the posters depicted the comic's characters in glorified and adventurous ways. Most of them depicted three of the people he'd seen unconscious in the real world: Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, and Ford Cruller.

One poster, in particular, stood out. It didn't seem professionally printed; rather, it looked more hand-painted, or even hand-drawn. There, standing on a cliff's edge with a fist held triumphantly in the air, was a boy. Clad in a leather jacket and slacks, a familiar green turtleneck, an old aviator hat and a pair of goggles, with a satchel slung around his back and a fierce grin on his face. The poster was captioned, "True Psychic Tales! Introducing Razputin Aquato, the world's youngest and greatest Psychonaut!"

Augustus squinted. The more he looked at the poster, the more he realized that it was transparent; he could clearly see through it to the wall. Odd… was the poster not truly there? Or was something else at work?

Augustus sat on the lower bunk, taking a deep breath. This room felt like a safe haven, even though the door was little more than a flap of cloth. And yet…something seemed oddly out of place.

He glanced to the side and found it. There was a small door that hadn't been there before, just off to the side, neatly blending itself with the poster-covered wall. It opened slowly, as though inviting him in. With a cautious last glance around the room, Augustus walked forward, pushing the door open a bit more and stepping inside.

This area…it was different. It wasn't tangled with the rest of Razputin's mind, and Augustus could tell that this wasn't something Razputin unwillingly let happen, which seemed odd considering how out of place it was. It was a small, simple room, with books lining the shelves and a few computer screens displaying vague information on criminals and happenings around the world. Beneath the glass floor was a pulsing violet stone, and when he looked up, he could see it occupying the ceiling as well. It was as though someone had built a library in a cavern of some kind of crystal.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Augustus took a closer look at one of the screens that, for whatever reason, was glowing much brighter than the others. There was a list of badges, with details scribbled beneath all of them as to what they did, what augments they all held, and when they had been obtained, though oddly they seemed to have the similar and close dates. Next to them was a figure of a boy, naming several of his characteristics - his age, height, weight, several details (one of which listed "DO NOT TAKE SWIMMING"), and a name: Razputin "Raz" Aquato.

"I was wonderin' when you were gonna show up."

Startled, Augustus turned around to see an old man standing behind him, his hands calmly crossed behind his back, a knowing smirk on his face. What stood out more than anything, however, was the emblem on his green sweater: it was the symbol of the Psychonauts.

"So you must be Razputin's father," The man said, rather cheerfully. "I heard a lot about you from him. Can't say it was all nice, but you know how kids are these days. Heheh."

Friendly or not, a father couldn't help but be suspicious when a stranger spoke with such familiarity concerning his son. "Who are you?" Augustus demanded.

"No one you need to worry too much about," the old man replied, grinning. "I've been keepin' an eye on your son while he's been in this camp, makin' sure he doesn't get himself into too much trouble."

That's when it hit him. Augustus had seen this man unconscious outside, with a violet, glowing stone strapped to his back. "You're one of the camp councilors, aren't you?" He asked.

The man shrugged. "Eh, somethin' like that. Name's Ford Cruller. No doubt by now you've probably already heard of me from your son."

"He does mention you quite a bit," Augustus replied. From time to time, he'd catch Razputin talking about the man with great reverence; Ford Cruller was supposed to be the greatest leader the Psychonauts had ever had. "But what are you doing in my son's mind?"

"I just told you, I'm keepin' an eye on him!" Cruller replied. "With all that was goin' on, I wanted to make sure he didn't get himself into too much trouble."

"And now there are unconscious people outside, and my son's brain is floating in a tank." Augustus crossed his arms, glaring at the man. "What sort of trouble were you trying to keep him from?"

"Psychic death tanks," came the casual answer. "Well…that, and giant lungfish, telekinetic bears, cougars… I never made a list, but I'm pretty sure it's long by now."

It wasn't an answer that Augustus liked. He took a firm step forward. He wasn't quite as tall as this man, but he liked to think that his stance made him seem gigantic. "I want you to leave my son's mind," He stated firmly. "I appreciate the help you've given him, but—"

"Don't you worry about it!" Cruller replied. "I'll be outta here once we're all awake again. I was only stowin' away in case he needed some help, after all. And at this point, he's proven himself more than capable of handling himself out there. You oughta be proud, Augustus. That young man's got heart that we don't often see in our ranks."

For that moment, Augustus's heart swelled with pride. His son could be selfish and perhaps arrogant, but he'd seen those times when he'd defended his siblings when they were getting made fun of, or when he'd settle fights between his brothers and sisters. When you got past it all, Razputin was actually quite thoughtful. Whether it got him into trouble more often than it got him out of it was debatable.

"He's probably gonna wake up soon," Cruller continued. "What do you plan on doin' now, Augustus?"

"Take him home," the man replied sternly. "He's in enough trouble already. Running away, for a start…"

Cruller looked…oddly disappointed. "Really? After all that trouble he went through, he's going back to jumpin' through hoops and swingin' on trapeezes for the rest of his life?"

Augustus narrowed his eyes. "Yes, he is. It's certainly less dangerous than what he's been trying to do for the past week."

"I see," Cruller replied, sighing. "I guess it can't be helped. I'll sure miss seein' him around. Remind me to thank him when he gets back up."

Something about the way Cruller said it made Augustus pause. "Thank him…?" He echoed. "For what?"

"What, ya couldn't tell?" Cruller grinned, crossing his arms. "Who do you think took out that tank while all of us were unconscious? And I couldn't re-brain our staff and campers all by myself, you know. I needed someone to help me out, and that son of yours was the only one willing and able to do it. We may very well owe him our lives. Maybe even more."

It was then that Augustus looked more closely at the monitor. It didn't show Razputin in his favorite blazer and aviator hat. Instead, it featured the boy wearing what appeared to be a green turtleneck and matching slacks, with a familiar symbol emblazoned on his chest.

"Would you believe the kid almost gave it all up?"

Augustus looked back at Cruller, confused. "What?"

"The moment he saw we were in danger - 'specially that lady friend of his - Razputin hardly paid that dream of his any mind. Sure, he still brought it up every so often, but I could tell his focus was on settin' things right. When he's got people counting on him, there's nothing that can get in that kid's way."

The monitor flickered through several scenes, presumably from Razputin's point of view. Spying on a speech over a campfire. Leaping over chasms and dodging land mines in a hellish battlefield. Evading a blast from an animated blueprint of the tank outside. Confronting an enormous, mutated fish that held his friend captive, only to be swatted away. Being tossed aside by a giant, angry bull, only to rise again and press on. Climbing up a twisted tower, shaking angry rats off his trail. Shielding his friend from the falling debris of the crumbling asylum. Each time, an obstacle in his way, a danger faced, only for him to stand right back up and face it down once again.

"Actions speak a lot louder than words, Augustus," Cruller said. "And your son certainly isn't all talk."

Augustus sighed. After all that, was it really right to deny his son that dream? To take him back home and have him perform for the rest of his life, when here he saw the boy really did have the heart to put everything on the line for those he cared about? He'd said before that Razputin was always full of surprises, but this… This was beyond anything he'd ever been shown.

"Perhaps…it is time for him to move on."

Cruller arched an eyebrow. "Hrn?"

"I won't be here to protect him forever," Augustus explained, sitting on one of the benches. "I've told him many times before. Our family has many enemies. We can't keep hiding like this forever."

"You don't have anything to worry about," The old man said, grinning knowingly. "From what we've seen so far, we already know that boy can take care of himself."

Augusus looked away. He felt defeated, but oddly satisfied, not to mention proud. He began to walk away, but before he left the room, he cast one last look at the old man behind him. "Cruller?"

"Eh?"

"Thank you. For protecting my son."

"Anytime!" The man replied. "Now go on, git! Your son needs you more than I do!"

Giving a curt nod and confident smile, Augustus exited the strange room, barely noticing as it faded from existence behind him.