Psych pov
The sun was high in the sky as Shawn and Gus found themselves in the middle of a dense forest, gathered with the rest of the team in a clearing for a briefing. Chief Vick was at the front, her usual no-nonsense demeanor in place as she started the discussion.
"A plane went missing this morning," she said. "The plane belongs to a billionaire named Mr. Clayton. It lost contact with air traffic control around 8 AM. We need your help, Spencer, Guster. i need to know if there is anything you pick up from this place."
"No problem, Chief," Shawn replied with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can already feel the pull of nature calling me."
Shawn walked away and shot Gus a look, with his usual smirk spreading across his face and pulls out a map from his pants. "See, Gus? I told you I had a map that could help us with this."
Gus looked skeptical. "Yeah, but what about all those other 'maps' you had? The ones that turned out to be grocery store parking lot layouts?"
Shawn raised a finger. "Those weren't maps, my dear Gus, they were artistic representations of potential parking spaces. But this map—this one—is the real deal. It came from my dad's old hiking buddies."
Lassiter sat on his police quad and saw Spencer and yelled, "You will have a nice walk, right Spencer?"
Shawn grinned, not at all deterred by Lassiter's sarcasm. "I knew it would come in handy someday. And today's the day. They will see."
Gus was still unconvinced. "I don't know, Shawn. This sounds like another one of your harebrained schemes."
But Shawn was already holding up the map with an air of triumph. "This, my friend, is the map. We're going to find that plane, and Chief Vick is going to have no choice but to put us on the job."
The group was still digesting that when Shawn noticed Lassiter looking enviously at a quad bike parked nearby. "You know," Shawn said, "I bet if we find that plane first, you will let me take a spin on that quad. All you have to do is let us do our thing."
Lassiter shot him a look. "You've got yourself a deal. But if you're wrong…"
"I won't be," Shawn cut him off confidently.
The team split up to search the area, but Shawn and Gus took the lead. Gus, still doubtful, couldn't help but ask, "So how are we supposed to find a plane on a whole mountain? You know you're not really psychic, right?"
Shawn laughed, holding up the map with exaggerated flair. "Look, Gus, it even has things like 'North' and 'Longitude' on it. Fancy that, right?"
Gus sighed, shaking his head. "I swear, sometimes I think you just pull stuff out of thin air."
As they walked through the forest, they continued on, Shawn teasing Gus about his skepticism. Eventually, they heard the sound of a metal "bonk," followed by a strange noise that made Gus freeze.
"A bear!" Gus screamed, backing up.
Shawn rolled his eyes. "What bear makes metal noises?"
Suddenly, they both stopped, their attention focused on the wreckage in front of them. There, in the clearing, was a plane—crashed, smoking, and battered. It wasn't hard to figure out that they had found the right place.
The two of them rushed forward, adrenaline pumping. As they neared the wreckage, Shawn glanced over at Gus with a grin. "Well, what did I tell you? I told you this map was going to work. And now, Chief Vick has no choice but to have us on this job."
The sight before them was unmistakable—a small, private plane, crashed and crumpled on the ground.
They both ran toward the wreckage, cautiously approaching the scene.
The wrecked plane lay silent in the clearing, its nose buried deep in the ground, smoke curling from the damaged engine. There was a large dent in the side, and pieces of metal scattered across the area. They walked toward the open hatch, peering inside.
"Guess we're not just the 'Psychic Detectives' for nothing," Shawn said with a grin.
Samuel POV
Samuel stood just outside the wreckage, hidden behind a tree. He watched Shawn and Gus enter the cockpit of the crashed plane, his mind racing. No way, right? he thought, blinking in disbelief. This can't be happening...
Samuel's mind raced as he watched Shawn and Gus move around inside the cockpit. No way, right? he thought, blinking in disbelief. This can't be happening...
Samuel stayed low behind a tree, his heart pounding. I know them... not know them, but when I was in high school and liked to get high, this show was amazing to watch. And now, they're here. This is so weird.
But then, something shifted—something deeper. A twinge of excitement welled up inside him. After 11 years of living in this world, it finally clicked. I didn't just get weird things from TV shows... I'm in a world with TV shows.
Was I really in a world with TV characters? he thought, staring at the wreckage. This could be great.
In my past life, I watched TV shows out of boredom and for the worlds they created. And now... I'm in a world with psych.
He sprung up from behind the tree, adrenaline surging.
And then he ran straight into the cockpit.
Inside, he heard Gus yelling at the dead man slumped in the cockpit seat, "What are the great stock tips this year?!"
"Gus, stop," Shawn said, nudging him. "He's already dead."
But then Shawn froze. He turned his head slowly, sensing something—or someone.
Standing at the entrance to the wrecked plane was a boy. A good-looking boy, about 170 cm (5'7") tall. He had blond hair, piercing green eyes, and a rugged, outdoorsy look, like he belonged in the forest. A bow was slung over his shoulder, and his clothes had holes in them, torn and worn in a way that screamed tree climbing and survival.
"What is this, Tarzan in LA?" Shawn muttered.
"Hey Tarzan, what are you doing here?" he said, raising an eyebrow.
I laughed and smiled. "What am I doing here? I live around here. I saw the plane and started running."
Spencer looked over at Gus and said, "Kid, even if that was true—who runs after a crashing plane? You must've run for hours."
I just walked over to Spencer and Gus and said, "So... we should really call someone and tell them a plane crashed here."
Spencer looked around, then quickly pulled out his phone and started calling Chief Vick.