Is that what you expected, darling?

He's such an egoist, always thinking about himself when he should be thinking about me.

No one said it was going to be easy, there is certainly some obstacles blocking the way. Nothing impossible to overcome.

Giggle.

Everything's swirling!

The mind is but a plaything of the body.

Order...Balance...Creation. Are these sustainable?

Giggle.

Death is true source of power. Is there anything else?

Giggle.

Like, sure, as long as you wish you're my guest.

Perception effects the nature of things. Is red really red when no one exists to classify it as such? Reality, the small, individual perception, is a created thing that comes with the mind, not a pre imposed order.

Birds of a feather do flock together, and they have more secrets than all the cats could ever wish to know.

There is no getting along.

Giggle

Giggle

On my left side...severity

Giggle.....

The tiles were so clean she managed to catch a reflection of herself on  the floor. A twisted, repulsive, distorted image which only gave a false sense of self.

That was the reflection in the mirror.

With the doctors scrambling around the latest car accident victim, the nurse paging for a certain doctor to deliver a baby, the phones ringing off the hook, and simply the anxious ramblings of people in the waiting room there was no silence to even hear herself think.

Perhaps that was for the better.

The psychic double checked the bandages around her hand and shoulders as the doctor had ordered her. She waited for them to give her the final confirmation and simply get out of this place. There was nothing else to do here.

Estimated time: 17:30
Reason of death, Unknown

That was what they said on his deathbed as they silently placed a sheet over him. A battle to save his life was futile, Rose knew that from the start. The psycho ball drove itself inside his subtle bodies where medical science had no hold.

The police did not take long before they hovered around her for questioning. She did not mind, and insisted that they continue much to the protests of the doctor who claimed she was still in shock. But the psychic was perfectly ready to confess, to be punished for the horrible and malignant crime she had committed.

The policemen were not so convinced.

"I'm sorry ma'am but I certainly have a hard time believing that story. The bruises are all over you, the boy found-"

"His name was Gregory," she said solemnly.

"Okay, if you say so, we can't put that on record cause there is absolutely no documents. But anyway, the boy was fully clean. There was only an arrest in his heart. How can you explain that?"

"I did kill him! I did! I did!" Rose did not try to explain the method of murder. The policemen probably thought her insane enough already.

"Get away you vultures." The doctor intervened. "Can you not see the poor woman is delirious? Who can blame her, after being attacked by that slum  kid and watching him die under mysterious circumstances and-"

"!" Rose was prepared to shout, to tell them all. It did not matter whether they thought her insane, it would probably lock her up in the mental asylum. Either way, she was locked up, away from human life and that house. But she decided to close her mouth.

So, that was it. The most tragic way to die, by the person you trusted most. And to add further insult, they did not even have his name. No records whatsoever found. Just another slum kid in a tragic unknown accident. Something for the Sunday night movies, or nothing at all.

"Oh My God. Glad I came here in time, Rose? Rose?"

She looked up and saw a familiar face. It would've been a relief it were  any other time. Sandra, co partner in her old job at the Psychic Shop, her American Beach Bunny style betrayed her age, acting as though she were still sixteen and in California.

"I'm all right."

"Like, what happened here?" While concern was exaggerated, Rose knew she  was sincere. "Oh my God, you're bleeding."

"It's nothing to worry over." She had trouble stringing words together.

"Really, I'm....I'm fine."

"Is that a tear?"

"No!"

"Hey, I can totally see a tear when I notice it. Come on, no ifs or buts, I'm driving you home. Gosh it's been a while, hasn't it?"

She looked at Sandra, "How did you know I was here anyway?"

The blonde shook her head, "It was all over the news, about how some house had been totally trashed and there were scary birds all over it. When I  saw who was dragged out I said to myself, 'Oh my God, that's Rose?' I couldn't believe it. Now, get your coat, or whatever, and let's go."

The psychic took her 'coat' (in fact the shawl) and hesitantly dragged herself off with the well meaning but ill timed Sandra. She could hear the people whistling at the blonde beach bunny, much to her oblivious attitude of course.

Sandra took out her keys and opened the door, letting Rose enter first.

"By the way." Rose was curious. "Did they say anything about....a death?"

"A death? Ick. But." She slammed the door and turned the engine on. "Yeah, I totally remember something like that. The police assume some little slum brat tried to break into one of the house and attacked, or slipped or something when the owner chased him. Was that your house?"

Rose sobbed, "What have I done?"

The ride home could not have gone worst. The psychic spent all the time brooding as Sandra blabbered about business in the psychic shop and the past. Rose couldn't care less at the moment. She watched the rain tickle down the car window, whizzing past familiar streets that seemed all too glum now.

Sandra had, Thank goodness, not ask anything about her earlier breakdown. She had the empathy, certainly, and knew better than to ask such questions when it was apparent that there was no way she'd ever get an answer.

A new indifference took over Rose, that of emptiness. She did not even care anymore about what happened, or so she thought.

She realized it was just repressed when she reached 'the house'.

"Well Rose, guess it's time I leave no eh? Like, nice talking to you again, we should do this again."

The psychic was overcome with terror, the impressions in the house were so incredibly evil breathing in the air choked her with dark energy of death, betrayal and astral monsters. Worst of all was that they were all responsible by her.

She took two steps back, Sandra came to the rescue.

"Oh my God, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Stop that, there is something wrong, again. Why do you always conceal the obvious."

"You're right." She sighed, "I guess I shouldn't....say, is there still a place open in the Psychic Shop for a wayward?"

"Sure! Of coruse! Gosh, we can have slumber parties and stuff and read cards and contact spirits and-!"

"Sounds terrific." She sighed again.

Rose was actually amazed at how much the old shop looked the same. Sandra really had not made that much drastic changes that it took her time to realize what little renovations there actually were. Except for the Roswell Truth poster Rose did not allow to be posted in her time at the shop which
now hung there it seemed exactly like home.

"I'm so glad you decided to come visit me again. The shop totally hasn't been the same. And giving Tarot readings and astrological charts is like, HARD!"

Sandra whined some more. "But Rose, are you sure you don't wanna go back to get your clothes, or something?"

"No no! It does not matter, I will not be here for long anyway."

The blonde frowned, "That's totally a shame, I was looking forward to spending some nights up, laughing at those totally stupid inaccurate movies like The Craft and stuff. But as long as there's tonight."

Rose tried to open her mouth but was interrupted with the jingle of the door.

"Oh! I'm like, so sorry but we're closed right now."

The psychic could not believe who walked in. It was Lemya, the violet-haired young girl who would sneak in the shop to spend the afternoons helping with the shop and clean up and get the occasional Tarot card reading and scrying. But she was grown up now, she had to be at least seventeen. The same age as he was...

Stop thinking about it.

The regression would probably do her some good. Getting to the pre-Third Eye days and re live the past experiences. It felt like coming home.

"Is that.." Lemya apparently had a hard time believing it too, as she rubbed her eyes. "Rose! Rose! You're back! Wow. Hey, can I have a card reading like-"

Sandra frowned at her and she backed down. Rose intervened, "No really, Sandra, thank you but I think I can do it..."

"Oops. My parents are calling. Drat. But hey, let's meet tonight." She had the same mischievous child smile, at least. "In the astral plane, that is!"

Rose smiled weakly, "Sure."

Sandra agreed too.

"See ya there!!"

Easier said than done. Which was really odd since it used to be easier done than said. But Rose could not believe it. Whatever she tried to do, she simply could not astrally project.

Close eyes, imagine symbol, go with the sensation of rising up.

See the accusing eyes of dead boy and fall to the ground.

Close eyes, imagine one of the energy fields and attempt to levitate.

See the energy arctic ball heading straight for the neck of said dead boy.

Close eyes, visualise a place you want to be to-

Home. Where the body was carried away under a sheet.

Close eyes, imagine the free floating love-

Of someone who died.

She simply could. not. do. it. Not even something as simple as astral projection, and worse were that even the techniques of other methods failed to provoke any reactions except dug up memories of that event.

It was useless.

Sandra came back from the inner planes. "Rose, we're like, totally waiting for you."

"I...can't...I can't do it."

"Oh, I see now. You're still in shock...I like totally understand and will talk to Lemya about it. She'll like understand too."

Silence.

"I'll leave you alone, okay? See you tomorrow."

*Tick*, *tick*, *tick*

Rose tried to lose herself in the sound of an antique clock, drown her senses in the simple sophistry of the machine. She absorbed herself in the repetitive motions, ringing and echoing into her ears and sinking into her mind. Anything was acceptable, anything save facing the demons within. Three days she had sat in a secluded corner of the Psychic Shop. Outwardly, she was still the Gypsy Rose. She still gave Tarot readings and crystal ball futures.

In a rare bit of sensitivity, Sandra never contradicted Rose even when she knew that Rose was wrong on the interpretations of a Tarot reading or when a scrying was wildly inaccurate. Although the psychic never showed it, she was grateful for indulging in this fantasy.

The fact was that the gifts that had been hers so long were hers no longer.

Rose found herself utterly unable to use the powers that a lifetime of mystic study had bestowed on her, unable to sense the etheric energies and even unable to astrally project. The simplest of tasks had become insurmountable odds for her now. For the first time since her maturity, Rose found herself lost. She had utterly no idea how to live with "normal" humanity, nor did she want to. All she needed was right here in the clock.

*tick*, *tick*, *tick*

Rose caught herself just before her eyelids closed. There was no rest in slumber. Every time her eyes closed, she would see horrible visions of Gregory's death. No not visions, something far worse. *Memories*. Each time her exhausted body fell into Morpheus' realm from sheer fatigue, the
memories were awaiting her arrival there too. All Rose had now for peace was the clock.

*tick*, *tick*, *tick*........

Rose began to sniffle when she realised that the clock had stopped ticking. It was as if her best friend had died. Rose would know, she had just that experience when HE killed 'Big Sister'. "Oh Myrna , my 'teacher'. Good it is that you are not here to see me today. What would you think of me now I wonder?" Rose said to herself.

Fidgeting compulsively in her chair at the corner of the shop, Rose scribbled a quick note to Sandra, gathered her shawl and left. Without her friend the clock, the Shop was far too quiet. It let the visions come back.

She corrected herself. Reality. Memories.

Wandering aimlessly down the streets of endless shades; Rose tried to lose herself in the crowd of faceless millions, just another drop in the endless sea of humanity. She had long ago lost track of time. In a small portion of her mind she knew that Sandra must be worried about her but the voice of reason was so far away and sweet oblivion so very, very close.

It completely detached. Floating away into Heaven knows where. Someplace she could've easily went to before, but not anymore.

Rose stopped by the window display of a shop as she gazed soullessly at a television set. It was the umpteenth re-run of a golf game but Rose hardly cared, all she needed was a place to lose herself.

She chanced a glance at the face reflected in the glass display window. Dirt-smeared, haggard and gaunt, she hardly resembled the confident psychic who had confronted Cheng lo those weeks ago. Dispensed advice to wayward martial artists or taught a future generation the mysteries of Soul Power.

"Damn, it always came to that didn't it?"

Rose whipped her head wildly. That was her voice but it was not *her voice*. Someone else had spoken in her formerly calm alto.

"In the window, you moron."

As if drawn like a moth to a flame, Rose turned her head ponderously to regard her reflection. Gone was the lost soul, in its place was a powerful mistress of her own destiny. Majesty was draped around her shoulders like  a cloak as the blue glow of Psycho Power illuminated her orbs. A too-wide grin completed the tableau as Rose realised just what this was, Gregory had faced this just a short while before he, before he.....

"Died. Oh give it up girl. *This* is your destiny, a place of power in the ranks of the unholy. It is not Bison whom others shall fear in coming times, it is Rose. After all, did you not teach him everything he knows?"

Repulsed beyond any limit of tolerance, Rose screamed in sheer sublime horror. Without any conscious thought on her part, the window exploded into a thousand glass shards. The fragments peppered her skin, drawing blood in numerous places but Rose could not feel the pain. All she could hear was her doppelganger's triumphant laughter.

Violent release of telekinetic power was a discipline of Psycho power.

Rose did the only thing she could when faced with such a situation.

She fled.

More wandering, a longer trip into oblivion sought but Rose found even that was denied to her. All the time, she could see her evil twin out of the corner of her eye. Her dark incarnation was constantly by her side, precluding any attempts at peace. It hounded her, appeared to her every
time she looked into any reflective surface. The truth is in the mirror they say. Rose had become afraid of mirrors. And their truth.

As she walked, she found that her feet had taken her past a graveyard. Pauper's Hill as it were, where the bodies of criminals and impoverished were interred for their eternal rest. Gregory would be buried wouldn't he? Poor boy had been gone for so long, yes it was time to take him home.

Poor boy must be really behind in his lessons.

"Here lies Gregory Matheson."

Well at least they listened to her when she told them his name.

Lacking any tools, Rose simply crouched on the ground and began digging.

A single raven cackled triumphantly as Rose clawed at the barren earth with her fingernails. Her hands were bleeding but she hardly cared. The Mind was a plaything of the Body. Too bad the toy was broken. Easily hefting Gregory's coffin on her shoulder, Rose began to retrace her steps. It was time to go home.

Their humble domicile looked so run-down although she had only been gone for such a short time. Rose resolved to chastise Gregory harshly for neglecting his chores. She giggled as she remembered that Gregory was sleeping on her shoulders. Poor boy needed a break, he was working too hard.

Hauling Gregory's coffin up to her room, Rose collapsed onto the warm, soft covers and breathed a contented sigh. At last they were home. For the first time in a very long time, Rose slept the sleep of the just.

Sunlight streaming through a cobweb-covered window awakened Rose from her dreamless sleep. "Where am I?" Rose asked. All she remembered were hazy pieces, something about a hospital and Sandra. She gasped as she saw Gregory's coffin at her feet. Checking a digital calendar, Rose found that she had lost the better part of two months. Vague impressions of her time spent wandering started to creep into her consciousness as Rose huddled in a corner.

It was so easy to lose herself again but she resolved to be strong. Rose knew that she was walking the razor's edge between sanity and madness; one wrong step and she would plunge into the abyss, never to return.

Rose staggered to the washroom, resolving to at least make herself presentable before committing herself to an asylum. In the mirror she saw a vision of herself in one of Bison's paramilitary uniforms but she fought it off. She knew what it was now, it could not hurt her. She would not let it hurt her. Just a few more hours and she would be in a hospital with doctors and drugs to treat her.........illness. Just a few more hours.

Splashing cool water onto her face, Rose felt invigorated by that simple act. Bison always started his day like this, especially after they.......well let's not go there. Just for a few moments, Rose's mind wandered off memory lane to better, happier times. It was odd that her student was just a tad older than her but he had come to his epiphany late in life. He was such an idealist when he was younger. There were days when he would hold her in his arms and whisper into her ears his thoughts of a brighter future for all. And a special promise for her.

She could feel his arms around her now, smell the scent of his cologne, feel his breath on her neck. She allowed herself to sink into his arms, drowning herself in good memories. Exactly like the old days, a good dose of regression into the heart of her former-

"My teacher, you are not well. Let me help you."

Rose barely understood what he was saying, she just cuddled in his arms, enjoying his warmth.

"Join Shadoloo and I will help you master the Psycho Power before it masters you."

Rose cared nothing for Shadoloo, just that Bison was here, now. She needed this, this return to a time when her world was bright. She covered his mouth with hers and pulled him to the floor.

In Bison's mind, there was only one word.

"Checkmate."