[Drama] Hung a sign on a torn screen door

[Victor Freud]

More than a week had passed since the X-men had returned from the adventure delving into the space between realities. The ordeal had sent almost everyone to the infirmary, and depending on how one described it speedy recoveries were had by all.

Well, all except one.

Victor Freud's broken arm was mending well, but the young man had been unconscious since before he was recovered from the endless astral sea that existed between dimensions. Physically, there was little wrong with him, and no obvious trauma that would caused him to remain in a comatose state. And yet he remained unconscious; that suggested that the cause may have been mental, or something beyond that. While his body was responding to outward stimuli, the results were gradually becoming weaker. The pupils remained fixed, contracting and dilating slower every day, and involuntary muscle response to pain stimuli was becoming weaker and delayed. The doctor estimated that it would only be a few days before they would have place the patient on intubation and move them to Muir Island.

But they hadn't tried everything yet.

[Emilie]

Rolled into the Infirmary and monitored heavily, the entity that Sam had patched together from two halves was up and moving about, and frequently found itself arriving to Victor, only to be shuffled away again by a nurse with instructions to keep them apart.

But she was tricky, and she knew how to circumvent eyes. And so she found herself here again, looming over the unconscious boy, even though she couldn't explain why. She was drawn to him, captivated by him. She didn't know her own name, but she knew his without even needing to read his chart.

[Samantha McManus]

"You shouldn't be here, you know." Sam says from the doorway.

[Emilie]

She also knew the voice of Sam, and how angry it made her feel inside. She didn't budge.

"There's lots of things that shouldn't be, and yet, are.

You want something?"

[Samantha McManus]

"We're just... concerned. Part of you would never hurt him, but part of you very much did."

[Emilie]

"Well mother, you'd be the authority on DID in these neck of the woods.

Have you come to do something about this, or is there nothing to do?"

[Samantha McManus]

"...why is it when I discover I have children, it's always after they tried to kill me and I didn't get to do the fun part of having them?" She mutters.

"I was going to see if I could unravel just what the damage is, since the doctors are stumped."

[Emilie]

"If you think I'm going to let you go in there alone, you're even more mental than your multiple personalities would suggest."

[Samantha McManus]

"I feel like I should remind you that at least part of you did him dirty."

[Emilie]

"A part that came out of you. ."

[Samantha McManus]

"...look, maybe it's easier for you right now to blame all of this on me. If that's what's working for you, go nuts."

[Emilie]

"yes, you're right. Someone buried deep inside of me hurt him. But not me.

I don't mean to be a scratched record, but I feel like we had this conversation three seconds ago.

You're not going in there without me."

[Samantha McManus]

Sam pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment, taking a breath.

"...you know what? I've made worse decisions."

[Emilie]

It took most of her strength not to comment 'definitely'. But Sam knew that anyways.

"Let's do this."

[Victor Freud]

For Sam and her passenger Emilie, getting into Victor's head was incredibly easy. Being comatose meant that his mental defenses were at a minimum, and even had he been awake he was no psychic and had little resistance training, so the two of them were able to cut through them like a hot knife through butter and get themselves into the gooey nougat center. First, there was darkness. And then their surroundings began to form around them, spreading outward as more details took hold.

The pair were standing on solid ground, each in one of the well-worn tracks of a dirt and grass road. The sky was overcast and cast a subtly gloomy greyness over the normally vibrant surrounds of the crops. The fields stretched on for what seemed like forever in almost every direction - for Sam the crops could have been just about anything; corn, wheat, sunflowers... whatever her mind filled in the blank with the concept of a farm field, that was what she would see. For Emilie however, the plants were something different, drawing upon those latent memories of multiple moments across multiple lifetimes on a particular piece of land. The longer they stood in place, the more details began to materialize, beginning as foggy concepts before they became more defined, though some were more abstract than others. Behind them, in the distance, the little worn path road intersected with a larger two-lane dirt road that disappeared over the horizon in both directions - the end of the property. And far off ahead of them in the distance were the vague visages that one would expect to see on a farm; what looked be a white farmhouse, a red barn, and other buildings - but either so far away or so abstract that they waived and broke up like a mirage on a desert highway.

[Emilie]

She took in her surroundings quickly, studying what Victor had laid out as his mindscape. Once what was going to materialize had, she began walking towards the mirage in the 'distance', not even waiting for Sam really.

[Samantha McManus]

"I can already see some signs of damage," Sam says as she also heads in the direction of the obvious landmark.

[Victor Freud]

Walking toward the house in the distance, the two would be able to see the field began to sway and move in gentle ripples like waves coming in toward a sandy beach. The "crests" passing on either side of the road should have brought with it the feeling of a gentle breeze, but the air was still unnaturally calm. It was clear that there wasn't something sinister moving through the crops, it was too uniform and spread out for that. And even though the crops sometimes bowed out over the road the two were walking along, it never appeared to be trying to reach out to try and grab them - if anything there were several near-misses, but the waving of the tall crops that way made something a little more apparent; the crops were moving past them faster than they should have been for the speed at which they were walking. It was like the entire field was on a big conveyor belt, but even that wasn't true, because as more details became clear so to did the waving stalks, and some were remaining steadfast where they were while others flowed around them like rocks in a river.

One of the stalks briefly brushed up against Emilie's arm - the moment it made contact with her skin the farm and everything around her was gone. She was looking down at a plate of breakfast food in the familiar university cafeteria, and poking at some beans with her fork. Then she heard her voice, despite not thinking of what she should say, or even opening her mouth.

"...you put them on your plate you goof." Her vision moved to the side to look at herself. Not like in a mirror or something, but her orange-haired self, sitting beside herself, with her own tray of food. And Samantha was sitting across from them, her focus being shifted to look at the other redhead as she spoke.
"If you ask for a full breakfast, that's what you get."

And just like that, she was back in the field, still in mid-stride.

[Emilie]

Before she could respond to Sam, she was sat in front of a blood pudding breakfast and being berated by her body double.

Then again, back on the dirt road with Sam. It was disorienting to say the least.

"... You mean like that?"

[Victor Freud]

Sam would not have any idea as to what Emilie was referring, because they had been the only one to experience it. By her perception the two would just be walking and Emilie would have said what she did. And it might have been a bit confusing if left at that. But since it wasn't obvious what Emilie was referring to, and she hadn't been warned, Sam wouldn't have had any reason to be careful and avoid one of the stems that bowed out onto her side of the road and brushed against her leg in it's passing.

As it had been with Emilie, for Sam the farm and surrounding countryside were immediately replaced by a different scene. She was staring down at the large paper cup she was holding as a machine mixed together what looked like vanilla soft serve with pieces of chocolate. It all just played out before her, arms that weren't her own taking the concoction, sticking a spoon in it, and turning to face the counter and the seating area of what looked to be a fast food restaurant. A small group of teenagers stood on the other side of the counter and were talking amongst themselves, a couple of they playfully pushing each other.
"Come on, you gotta do it, it's the law." One of them complained, which resulted in Sam feeling the shoulders slump a bit before the cup was turned upside down, then right-way up and set down on a plastic serving tray. One of the others, a young woman with short blonde hair and pink braces, opened her mouth to say something but before Sam could hear it she was back in the middle of the road running through the field. Exactly where she left Emilie, as though not even a second had passed when clearly she'd been gone for nearly a minute.

[Samantha McManus]

Sam's avatar blinks in confusion for a moment, something not strictly necessary in the realm of the mind, but some things are habit.

"These... these are memories. All of them. Right out here in the open. I didn't think they'd be so close to the surface."

[Emilie]

"Prolly a side effect of the breakage, eh?"

[Victor Freud]

"'course they grows 'bove ground. If'n they di'nt, they'd be taters."

Oh, good. The two of them weren't alone in the field of dreams memories.

[Emilie]

She knew enough about this sort of thing to know that this was not necessarily Victor. But also, it wasn't not not Victor.

"Well hello Slick. What's cookin?" She addressed the entity, hoping to give itself a sense of who she was if it didn't already know.

[Victor Freud]

The entity, as Emilie turned to face it, was standing on the worn and rotten covered porch of an equally ramshackle shack, the roof of which was bowed in and the windows so filthy that the inside must have been quite treacherous to navigate. Not that she would likely set foot inside willingly, for the subtle hint of noxious odours was evident; dirt, mold, and other foulness. The place was just... there, barely off from the little dirt road, sitting amongst the flowing stalks with it's own little dirt path to meet them. It hadn't been there before, it would have been impossible to miss, especially with all of the warning signs lying about; the severed pig's head just sitting out in the sub along with various empty mason jars and rusted tin cans strewn about, and a rather macabre windchime made from bones and other unsettling objects.

Slick, as she had called him, looked like Victor; at least there were elements of him in it. But those features had been warped and twisted into an insulting parody of himself. His skin was about as dirty as his clothes, especially his bare feet. His posture had him hunched forward with his arms hanging, bringing to mind images of less-evolved man and man-like creatures. The black hair was greasy and molded to his head. And those grey-blue eyes stared straight at the two women in a very unflattering manner - not even hiding that he wasn't looking at their faces.

"You girlses lost?"

[Samantha McManus]

"...okay, most of this I'd chalk up to insecurities, but the knife is worrying."

[Emilie]

She side-eyed Sam for a moment before addressing 'Slick' 's question.

"Naaaaaaaaah. We're right where we mean t'be. But if it bothers you that we're here, we can go."

[Victor Freud]

"Is you now?" The man asked, lifting his non-knife-wielding hand to scratch at his neck with dirty, cracked fingernails. "No, it's no botha'. I'd never put two purty girls like you'se out. 'specially since you came all this way just to see l'il ol' me." That was a bit presumptuous, and perhaps he suspected they thought as such since he didn't give either of them a chance to respond. "'cause you ain't come to see nobody at the house, or they'da come to meetcha instead of makin' you walk all this way. Couple'a pretty city-girls like you, you'se can walk 'til yer legs give out and you won't be a lick closer. And you certainly ain't lookin' to join the rest'a th' chaff."

He cocked his thumb back toward the way they'd come. At the edge of the property, between themselves and the fence that separated the field with the outside world, was a massive beast of a machine. A combine harvester, red with rust and weathered from countless seasons, was making it's way back and forth along the fence line, chopping down the stalks of hemp (or whatever it was that Sam interpreted them as) and spewing little fragments out through the long chute sticking out of it's back. Of course, on a real farm it'd be traveling over the entire field, but here the flowing stream of vegetation was moving to it instead. A field of memories not yet forgotten, and the means of freeing up space for new ones. While the crops flowed toward it, the two women remained fixed on the road, as did the musty shack and it's occupant, so there didn't appear to be any danger of them being swept back into the harvester's blades.

[Emilie]

"City girls?

Oooh now Slick. You'a all people should know not t'judge a book by it's cover." She replied, mimkcing his country-esqe accent. It would be obvious to Sam (and hopefully only Sam) that she was distracting this new entity to give Sam a chance to analyze him and the situation.

"I've picked chicken shit out th'treads of my Docs so often, I know to soak them in dish soap first. I got me a fishnet sunburn from ridin' the combine too long, n' I even been gored for gettin' too close to a red dog after havin' helped bring it inta' th'world."

[Samantha McManus]

"Don't tend to leave much in the rear-view, do we?" She arches a brow, letting Emilie do most of the talking as, one by one, large black birds step out from her shadow and start to scout around.

[Victor Freud]

Sam's birds, and her experience in the mental realm, would give her a better understanding of where they found themselves. The energy radiating from "Slick" and his abode was primal, base, tinged with almost feral influences. And it was old; older than the field or the surrounding landscape.

Another feathered friend could make out something taking shape in the other side of the field, opposite of the shack. Many of the crops were twisting their stems around one another to create thick trunks, leaving their leafy upper parts to fan out in all directions. These combined efforts seemed steadfast, resisting the flowing river of greenery, and their positioning suggested that they ran along a path that also led to the farmhouse. Unfortunately, the path itself had yet to be revealed.

And thirdly, the farmhouse remained foggy and distorted, even as one crow tried to venture closer. But from it's vantage point it would be able to make out a cloud of dust traveling the road in their direction. It seemed that they had attracted the attention of at least one other resident.

Meanwhile, Slick was slapping his hand against his thigh and stomping his foot. "Ooo'eee! Well I sure did paint you wrong, di'nt I girly? You're a real peach, that's fer sure." The twisted form raised his dirty hand to wipe some of the spit off of his chin as he stared at Emilie in a very unsettling manner. "An' I could eat a peach for hours...."

[Emilie]

"Yea, I know all about it." She replied, tilting her head slightly and smiling sweetly. She was doing a fantastic job of covering her disgust with this crude being, all to buy Sam more time.

If she noticed the new entity clearly making it's way towards them, she gave no hint to such.

"But nothing comes for free, Slick. A good country boy like you should know that. Nurishment costs. What do you have to offer?"

[Samantha McManus]

Once out of the boy's field of vision, the birds take flight, circling around the dust cloud and trying to take stock of it.

[Victor Freud]

Em probably should have found a better way to phrase that last part, because "Slick" immediately began to start to undo the front of his pants with much enthusiasm.

Sam's ravens were able to meet the dust cloud on it's way toward the trio, and the closer it got the more the thing within it took shape; at first a vague silhouette or a car, and then the sound of a motor and of tires on the dirt road. It was a long driveway, after all. But the actual shape of the car kept changing, seeming to shift between forms that, if she had to classify them, would be considered a sports car. Not exactly what you'd expect to find on a farm.

[Emilie]

Thankfully, Pantsless Vic wasn't a maiden voyage for the girl, and so any scoffing or ridicule one might be inclined to give, she kept to herself. She did however, kick out a foot to press into his chest firmly to hold him at bay and hopefully keep him dressed, and continue to stall for time.

"I meant what were you gonna give me besides that to make it worth my while. Don't think you're the only one lookin' to offer one of those, friend."

[Samantha McManus]

"Well lookie thar," Sam says in an unconvincing accident. "Don't see one of those 'round here much."

[Victor Freud]

A look of consternation came across “Slick’s” face when Emilie held him at bay with her leg, and it might have escalated into a violent anger had his eyes not followed up her boot, making no effort to obscure his hungry gaze. “Oh, I gets it. Yer one’a dem workin’ girls from the big city. Well, don’t you worry none, Daddy’s got all the green you need…”

The misshaped man trailed off slowly when he too noticed the sound of the approaching vehicle, which drew his attention away from the shorter of the redheads. He even stepped back when the car came to a sudden gravel-grinding halt, and the look on his face was possibly the ugliest one he’d shown yet. The dust seemed to reveal the coolest 2-seater sports car that Sam or Emilie could imagine; literally, it was whatever car they thought was the coolest of that type in the whole wide world (though if they weren’t exactly into cars the mindscape did provide one for them). With the engine down to an idle it was easier to hear the music that was blaring through the sound system as the man inside hopped out of the vehicle.

And what a man he was. If “Slick” was a mockery of Victor, then this was the most flattering of caricatures. He was tall, probably hitting that magic 6’ mark, with perfectly coiffed black hair, sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. He was dressed in a tailored 3 piece suit, the Italian cut helping to emphasize his inverted triangle physique. And those blue eyes were shooting daggers at the twisted man.

“Idward Freud! If I find out that you laid one greasy paw on either of these young ladies…” He said in a loud and commanding tone, his perfect white and straight teeth showing as he spoke in a trans-Atlantic accent.

[Emilie]

The feminine entity formerly known as Emilie still had her leg pressed into Idward's chest when the man in white came to 'save the day'. Sam's avatar could feel the smugness dripping off the other interloper in Victor's mind, but she seemed to be playing her cards very close to her vest for the moment. And of course, only Sam had the ability to riddle out why, being that Victor's brainpan was clearly out of sorts.

"No need to worry yourself Big Guy. You're not the only one with experience keeping... Idward in check."

[Samantha McManus]

"Check out the ego on that one, aye?"

[Victor Freud]

Any anger that Emilie might have felt bubbling up toward her for holding Idward at bay was instead directed at the newcomer, the dirty young man looking as though he'd like nothing better than to tear his throat out.

"You've got no right Sully! I saw 'em first, they're mine! You can't have 'em!" He seemed to forget that the man hadn't laid a hand on him, that the one stopping him was one of the ones he considered "his" to do with as he pleased. And for his part, "Sully" didn't look much happier to see him - despite all of his trappings he looked just as ready to throw-down, and likely would have had the two of them been alone. But he quickly regained his composure, straighting his posture and his tie before turning to look at the two redheads.

"You have my sincerest apologies for any inconvenience or discomfort that this... man has caused you; I'm afraid he is of a simple sort, I'm sure you understand. Though it appears that you have the situation well in hand. Though, perhaps it would be more appropriate to say well in foot. But good Lord, where are my manners? Sullivan Egarton Freud, head of PR, Sales & Marketing, Social Media, and brand-ambassador for Freud Farms LLC; at your service." He gave a little bow, pronouncing every letter of every word clearly and precisely, and all with a voice that sounded like it should be coming out of a floor-model radio.

"That's just fancy words to justify him spendin' all day sittin' around playin' that there TickyTocky on his phone while some of us are doin' REAL farmin'."

"And this unique individual is, unfortunately for me, my brother Idward." It seemed as though the mere notion that they were related pained the man.

"OLDER brother. Yer the baby."