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codylabs · 6 years ago

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Chapter 27: Farewell Savage Fate

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 2:50pm (you don’t really need to pay attention to the times, they’re there for MY benefit.)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (control room)

-Warning: Intruders have begun Reactor 5 startup. Power output: 5% and rising. Coolant levels sufficient.

-Warning: Intruders have access to all remaining ship systems and engines.

-Input: Assign bioforms 3 and 4 a threat level of 20. Combat preference: Immediate lethal force. You are clear to engage. Take no survivors.

-Threat reassessed. Antimatter pellets loaded and launchers charged. Drones 155, 157, 158, 163, 164, 174, 175 and 179 engaging.

The 8 drones did exactly as they had been instructed, without a briefest moment’s hesitation. They hovered quietly out of the darkness, their eyes fixed on the entrance to the control room, their weapons hot, their minds already visualizing the battle.

Intruder 3, whom friendly faces knew as McGucket, was still busy at the computer, and would not be able to react in time. A single antimatter round could penetrate his torso and explode, killing him instantly. Stan, identified as intruder 4, remained catatonic in the chair; even if he were to wake up now, he would not be able to offer much resistance. Another antimatter round would terminate him.

Two shots. That’s all that was needed. Each drone loaded four for good measure.

But then something happened.

A brilliant flash of blue light lit up the control room. McGucket jumped backwards from the controls, startled and frightened. Did I just do that? This alien tech must be touchier than it looks… But then when he looked hard at the readouts, nothing seemed to have changed… All the settings and feedback were just where he’d left them… But then he noticed something really quite odd: The plasma beam weapon that had been leaned beside him was no longer there. He glanced around. Stan didn’t have it. Where did it go? What happened? It was right he—

The sound of eight simultaneous explosions echoed through the room. He heard debris rattling against the walls from outside, saw a scrap of burned wreckage bounce in past the doors, and shards of plating and chunks of robotic innards clattering to the ground outside.

Stanley was awake in an instant. “HI HEY NO PLEASE SUSAN I COULDN’T…! *Snrf* …Heeeey, can’t a fella get any sleep around here?”

“I dunno whatappened!” McGucket cried, rushing toward the door with Stan on his heels. “Whasappenin’ whatwassat noise whosthere whereintarnashin my death ray run off to?”

They looked out. Stan didn’t remember it being quite so warm and smoky. McGucket didn’t remember there being quite so many burned, smashed piles of robotic wreckage.

He also didn’t remember leaving his death ray out here. Yet there it was, sitting on the floor at his feet, that very same tool he’d misplaced seconds ago.

McGucket picked it up and found that it was lighter; its fuel tanks were nearly empty. And a quick check of the electrical charge revealed that the batteries were almost wasted as well.

The ignition chamber was still warm.

“Well I’ll be a pork-bellied feather-hearted dingleberry… What in the name of me Pappie’s gibberflunked bramblesnippin’ Mississippi combine just happened?”

“You need to keep better track of that thing.” Stan told him.

“Did you just do that just now?” McGucket asked.

“Did who do huh? Did something happen?”

“Wha--? But… The thing…? Oh my, lookit these poor robits…”

Stan made a long string of confused grunkley noises. “Welp, I’m in over my head. You got a brother I could call? I mean… A phone I could brother? I mean… Agh, can’t talk today. Hey waitaminute, where are the kids?”

“Yeh can’t get service down here…” McGucket reminded him. “Oh yeah, and them two teenagins said they’s was curious ‘bout somethin’, and ran off that-a-way.” He pointed off into the darkness.

“…Aaaagh. Dumb kids. Don’t they know there’s killer robots down here? …Okay; so you’re sure something blew all these things up?”

“Well yeah, an’ I think it may’ve used my plasma beam ta do it!” McGucket objected. “But I can’t rightly figger how they got it right out from under my nose, or ‘ow they did it so fast. Y’know this thing needs a moment to prime, a little bit ta charge, and even longer ta cool down, so it woulda taken a while ta do all this, but I believe I heard the events occur simultaneously, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, listen, pal I’ve been living in a cramped ship’s cabin with my nerdy brother for the better part of a year now, and I have developed an extremely short fuse for technical mumbo-jumbo. So here’s how it is: if somethin’s weird, you say ‘somethin’s weird’ and stop there. Savvy?”

“Err… Sorry… Somethin’s weird.” McGucket said.

“Great. Weird. We know weird. We can handle weird. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with weird.” Stan pulled the doors closed behind them as they stepped into the control room. “Now. In case some maaaaagical death-ray-stealing mischief fairies wanna pay us another visit, I’ll leave it open a crack so we can hear ‘em coming.”

“Sounds good…” McGucket wrung his hands together as he stepped back up to the console. “Well… Actually, I think I got the programmin’ all finished. The reactor should be workin’ again. The gravitational nacelle has been calibrated to focus on the Forest of Daggers, and-”

“So what yer SAYIN’ is…” Stanley crossed his arms. “This whole joint’s gonna get weird once ya push that big red button.”

“…Yeah.”

“Better wait ‘till the kids are back then.”

“…I could run it through a test sequence…” McGucket scratched his chin. “Bring the core up to 50% output ta test for malfunctulations and stir up some noise; get ‘em back here faster.”

“Yeah. Great. Do that.”

McGucket hit the big red button.

It started quiet and built in intensity; an enormous, rumbling sort of hum, which thundered through the frame of the ship, shaking the walls, steadily overcoming all lesser noise.

McGucket turned it off again after a minute.

Stan adjusted his hearing aid. “That was a little loud.” He understated.

“Yeah, well, I reckon the coolant compressors had some corrosion, and the hydraulics were nearly rusted shut, so that’s my guess as to why…”

“Geez, you just take any little thing as an excuse to start in on it, don’t ya?” Stan grunted.

“Sorry.”

A noise from beyond the door interrupted them. It sounded like gunfire. From a raygun. Raygunfire.

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” Stanley picked up a weapon, and marched for the door. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

But when he levered the hatch open, he froze in surprise.

“Ford?”

“Stanley?”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 4:30pm (it doesn’t really matter when this was, but plotwise it happened before.)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack (time and place where Sam happened to locate Ford)

Mabel stared up at the shapeshifter for a minute. Then she blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. Yeeeah, that’s him alright.

She didn’t know why he was here, who let him out of the bunker, or what he was doing here. To be honest, she hadn’t even a faint inkling of what the heck happened at all while she was asleep. Gee whiz, spend one afternoon in a coma, and now the single nastiest and scariest monster I’ve ever met is right in here in the Shack… She had quite a lot of questions, but Great Uncle Ford or anybody was nowhere around to answer them. There was only this creature, this hideous, frightening… Thing.

Oh well.

She may as well just ask.

“Hi guy!” She smiled, forcing a smile onto her face. Be Mabel. She thought. Just like Dipper told you. Be Mabel. Think good thoughts… This IS gonna end up okay. One way or another. “How’s it going?” She asked, as her cheery words forced past her fear. “When did you get here?”

Sam hadn’t been expecting a question like that. In fact, he hadn’t expected even a hint of this cheery disposition. Unsure of how to react, he found himself answering candidly. “Twenty minutes ago…”

“Okay! Uh…!” She hopped down from her chair and stretched her sore neck as she glanced around the room. “Have you seen my Great Uncle? He was just here I think.”

“…He’s gone.”

She blinked. “Well yeah, I can see that; did you see where he went?”

“I think I kindnapped him.” He heard himself answer truthfully again.

“Whaaaat…?” Mabel frowned up at him skeptically. “How in pig’s name are you not sure if you kidnapped somebody?”

“Well, I…” Sam blinked down at the little girl. “…He disappeared. I’m sure it was me who did it, or who will do it. And… I… Uh.” He looked down at the yellow time machine in his hands, and felt himself descending ever deeper into confusion.

Mabel followed his eyes. Her jaw dropped and she gasped loudly. “What…! You! Wha! That’s no tape measure! THAT’S A TIME MACHINE! You have a time machine! You really have one! For real! Where’d you get it?”

“Y-yes. I… My mother gave it to me, I—”

“You have a mother?!? What’s she like?!?”

“I-wha-hey!” He finally found his focus again, reminded himself that he was in charge, and drug the conversation back on-topic. “YES. I have a time machine.” He repeated, clicking his teeth. “And I’ve been using it to remake my life as I will… I took Ford, I outsmarted all of you, and now, I have everything I want…”

Before she had time to feel intimidated, Mabel started talking again. “This is so awesome…!” She smiled, as her brain but together a plan. “Yes… YES! With a time machine, we can save him! It’s perfect! This fixes everything! We have a TIME MACHINE! Man, your mom must be AWESOME! Is it your birthday? Or is it Christmas? Do aliens have Christmas in June? Summermas? Where did she buy it?”

“…Calm down.” Sam frowned at her.

“Saaaay new friend, could I actually borrow that thing for a minute?” Mabel pleaded. “It’s really really reallyreallyreallysuperduper important.”

“Calm down.” He repeated.

“I’ll give it right back and everything!” She promised as she reached for it. “But my brother kind of died a couple days ago so I really need to save him. It’s really kind of urgent so would that be alright? You could come too if you want!”

“QUIET!” He reached out a hand and pushed her away. She stumbled right over on the floor, and almost hit her head on the corner of a table as she went over. Sam blinked, surprised. Oops. She’s weaker than I thought. I almost hurt her; I didn’t mean to hurt her… Wait, why DIDN’T I mean to hurt her? Of course you mean to hurt her! You’re HERE to hurt her…!

“You’re a fool.” He growled out loud. “You’re asking me to loan you this? To save your brother?…” I’m here to hurt her. “Don’t you know who I am and what I’ve done?”

She stared at him blankly. “Well… Yeah, you’re the shapeshifter guy…? You kinda--”

“My name is Sam, and I’m your enemy.” He explained. “And as for what I’ve done, did you know your brother’s death was no accident?” He held up the machine. “I just used this to kill him, stupid. He’s dead because of ME. And I’m proud of it. Because I hated him.”

Mabel eased slowly up to a sitting position in one corner of the room, and then even slower to her feet. “Oh…” Her voice became small and flat, as she considered this latest revelation for a minute. “Oh.” She finally repeated.

He nodded. “Now what do you think of that?”

“Well… Uh…” Mabel’s shoulders shuddered briefly. “That’s… Kind of… Mean.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he’d heard that right. “Mean.”

“Yeah, pretty mean…” Mabel informed him. “Like… Pretty selfish too… Most people would be… Nicer than that.”

The two little orifices on the top of his head emitted a snort. Mabel supposed that they must be his nostrils. “Are you… Brain dead?” He asked, as his fangs clicked in amusement. “You do realize what I’m saying, don’t you? That I killed your brother in cold blood? That I’m going to kill your uncle? That your own fate is subject to my whim…? You do understand… Don’t you?”

Mabel wrung her hands inside her sweater sleeves. “…Yeah.” She said. “I get it.”

“…Then why aren’t you thinking dark thoughts?”

Dark thoughts…

Mabel recognized those words. Robbie once said those words. The day that Dipper died, Robbie had stolen her joy with those words. The day she’d brought Robbie along on her happy little adventure, and sent him down into the bunker, he’d come back with those words… Mabel finally put it all together.

“Oh…” She said. “That wasn’t Robbie, that was you… That was when you got out…” Her voice got small. “I let you out.”

“Give the young lady a prize.”

“Uh… Oh… I’m really sorry… I mean! Uh, no, not sorry, I mean good for you! Hi! Welcome to the surface world! Uh… Ooh. Gee. Awkward…”

There was silence for a moment in the room, as the girl and the monster looked at each other, neither one precisely sure what next to do or say. Finally Mabel spoke up again.

“So… Uh… Besides for killing people, what are you doing?” The girl asked. “Like… I’m still kind of confused, and time travel is really complicated so… What’s going on?”

Sam looked at her.

“Well…” He started. “I was just taking care of some business. Making sure that things happened the way they were supposed to. Making sure I got to where I am today. Controlling your very lives.”

“…You can’t control my life.” Mabel frowned.

“Oh, but I can. In fact, I already have… Do you remember this?” He produced a small metal box, popped it open, and removed the robot kitten, of all things.

“Oh… Uh… Hi Juan!” Mabel waved at the little metal creature.

Sam stuffed it unceremoniously back in the box. “You loved it so much that I can use it to manipulate you. I saved it when your family tried to kill it… And now… Oh, I have a wonderful idea! What if I were to give it back to you the next night, with a note attached to it that said you needed to take action? What if that was the spark that lit the fire inside you? What if that were the reason you first launched on your hairbrained quest and accidentally freed me? What if…”

Sam walked over to one of the computers in Ford’s study, and booted it up. When a data entry program appeared, he began to type. “How about it? Am I talking nonsense, or truly writing history here?” He finished typing, and hit another button.

A nearby old-timey printer began to chatter, and it noisily emitted a single small piece of paper. “There!” Sam held up the note and shoved it in Mabel’s face. “Is that the note? Does that sound like something nice enough to get you to do something stupid?”

Mabel read it.

Enjoy the time you have with him.

Because it’s not right for him to stay here long.

Find a good place for him, Mabel. We believe in you.

Be wise and loving. Be his hero. Save his life.

Mabel read it a second time.

“Uh…” She mumbled. “Yeah… That’s the note… Hmm. Oh.”

“Well then.” Sam pulled out the time machine, and disappeared in a flash of light.

Mabel blinked and stared at the place where he’d been standing.

She took a step back, and found herself all the way in the corner of the room.

I always just thought it was an honest, well-meaning invisible wizard who did that. She pounded her forehead with her fists. I just thought ‘hey, there must actually be some decent, happy people somewhere in the world’… But it was all a lie. Everything I did, it was just a random, convoluted, pointless wild goose chase that accomplished nothing except ruining everything.

But… Wait… If Sam DIDN’T give me that note, then I WOULDN’T have done anything, and I WOULDN’T have freed him and he WOULDN’T have given me that note! …But since he DID give me that note, I DID free him, so he DID give me that note… It’s just a weird random circle that happened for no reason except itself! Dang it time travel! Why you gotta be so complicated?!?

…Well… Actually, this entire thing relies pretty heavily on me being stupid. I was so bent on being kind, so determined to find niceness and happiness where there was none, that I turned my brain off entirely.

So if at any time I’d just decided to use my head, then that would’ve been it. And it wouldn’t have happened.

If the time loop ever DID had a cause, then that cause was me.

…

Dipper, what do I DO?

There was another flash of blue light, and Sam was standing there again.

“And that’s it.” He spread his arms grandly, like a magician would after the completion of a spectacle. “I’ve been hopping around doing whatever I please, killing whoever I please. And that’s why your uncle’s gone too. Soon as I’m through with you, I’ll head back in time, take him away, and do as I will…”

“Yeah…” She whispered. “I see.”

“It all fits.” He told her. “I did it. It’s been a complicated equation, but I’m the answer. I’m the end. And that’s what’s happening.”

Mabel bit her lip and squeezed back tears.

You need to be stronger, Mabel. Dipper’s words whispered in the back of her memory. No matter what happens, to me or anybody else, we need you to be strong. Strong enough to hold together when something hits you. Tough enough to take a thousand hits and never break. Be hopeful. Be loving. Be cheerful, and caring, and good… Be that way forever. With or without me. That’s what we need you to do…

Mabel took a deep breath. In an instant, she knew exactly what she had to do. I have a job. She remembered. Fate has a job for sweet, happy, trusting little Mabel, and I’m the only one that can do it.

Time to do it.

“Hey Sam.” She said.

“What?”

“I’m…” She wiped her eyes and struggled to hold her voice steady. She really was afraid. “Uh… Why you haven’t killed me? …Do you like me?”

“I— What?” He grew a couple inches taller and snarled. “I don’t like you.”

“Eh… Well! I mean!” Mabel stuttered. “I mean you must have hated Dippingsauce a lot to kill him, but with me you’re just standing there, so that means you don’t hate me. I mean you don’t have a reason to hurt me and you don’t really want to. And that’s why you don’t. So yeah, so right, so there.”

There was silence for a minute in the darkened room.

Sam hadn’t thought about it like that before. But now that it came down to it, he realized it was true… He didn’t hate her.

He remembered his mother. How she treated everything like an object, or a tool. In all things she acted shrewd, cruel, pragmatic and level. She hurt and killed anyone that ever crossed her, never hesitated to stoop to the sickest, most murderous depths to gain any advantage. Power was the name of her game, and strength was its only rules. That made sense to Sam. That fit with what he knew and had seen. That was the only way it ought to be.

When he realized that he himself didn’t hate somebody… It felt like weakness. Why don’t I hate her?

Why AM I even talking to her, anyway?

What am I trying to do?

He’d come here for revenge; to destroy even the memory of everyone who’d been responsible for what happened to him: Stanford Pines, Fiddleford McGucket, Dipper Pines, Wendy Corduroy…

And he’d also wanted to find his people, so that he would no longer be alone. But now that he knew what it meant to be a part of his own family, now I know what his mother expects of an ally, Now… It seemed to him that he hated her as much as he hated the rest of his enemies.

But that was also none of Mabel’s business.

Sam opened his mouth to growl something, but the girl was already talking again. “I dunno about you, but I want a happy ending!” She stated. “And I bet deep down you actually want to help me! Because really everybody wants everything to turn out alright. So do you think there’s any chance you could have a change of heart and start being a good guy instead of a bad guy anytime soon?”

Sam blinked as if in shock, having a hard time believing that such a train of thought could even exist. “…Really…?”

“Come on!” Mabel pleaded. “I know you can’t be all bad! You let me sit on your lap and drive when you were pretending to be Robbie! And how about Tambry? She’s been on her Facepage account, and her Bumblr account, and her Chirper account, and all her accounts all week really, talking about how great the concert was and how great Robbie was but you were Robbie!”

“I had to learn to operate a vehicle.” He explained. “You were the only one around with a rudimentary understanding. That wasn’t you sitting on my lap, that was me tricking you into teaching me. And as for Tambry, I needed to blend in. Killing and eating her wouldn’t have blended in.” Wait, what am I doing? Sam demanded of himself. Am I trying to justify myself to HER? Trying to convince her that I AM a monster?

If you want to convince her of THAT. Another thought intruded on his mind. Just kill her. Remember who and what and where you are. You’ve got places to be and things to do. Standing here chatting with a teenage girl is wasting precious seconds. You were right in the middle of your revenge!

“Well yeah but you still did let me sit on your lap!” She once again interrupted him. “And you still were extra nice to Tambry even when you didn’t have to; so how about it? Maybe you were even happier when you were nice to people! I don’t know, but maybe down deep inside you’re actually a nice person! And the only little problem is that you’re just really angry and mean and evil and think it’s alright to do terrible things, but you’re actually nice… You know, like Beauty and the Beast or Doofenshmirtz or Count Bleck!”

Sam stared at her.

Mabel swallowed quietly.

I have a job to do.

It all led up to this. It all wraps up in this. It all ends now.

She told her foot to take a step forward, but it hesitated. Come on, move you stupid leg! She silently shouted. I need you forward! The place where you aren’t! Just move movemove come on move! Sure it looks like a monster up there, but it’s really a person somewhere inside, a person who needs his justice too! Come on, this is it! Take a step! Her leg wasn’t used to being yelled at, and finally obeyed.

Then she told her other foot to take a step too. It hesitated as well, but obeyed just like the other. She could hear her own heart beating, and knew she had to keep talking so that fear wouldn’t drive her right back.

“S-s-so how about it, Sam?” She asked, and with a monumental effort forced a smile onto her face. “Maybe… Maybe we could work together to make everything right again! Maybe you don’t have to be the bad guy, maybe you don’t have to be alone, or sad, or angry… Maybe everything could be okay if you just stop thinking dark thoughts…”

She was close enough to touch him now. Close enough to smell his breath. Close enough that he could injure her by no more than flinching. Close enough to make out every detail of his creepy, slimy body. Close enough to even hug him.

“Come on, Sam…” She said. “Don’t you want a happy ending?”

In spite of himself, Sam considered it.

He weighed all sides of the issue. He remembered all the evil that had been done between him and this family he was killing. Stanford and Fiddleford’s experiments, and the years spent locked underground. Dipper and Wendy’s attempts at his life… But in return… There was everything he’d done back to them… So Sam then wondered about forgiveness: could this family forgive him? And could he forgive this family? Was forgiveness possible after things such as this? Could there ever be peace?

…And were friends something he ever wanted? He remembered the time spent with Tambry. Indeed, the best week of his life had been the one where she loved him; where he had people around to laugh and joke and eat and sing with. Nowhere, in all the revenge and violence or deceit since, had he ever tasted anything as sweet as love…

…But would any of it be worth it, to forsake the destiny his mother had laid out for him? She would have him live a life of lies, violence, malice… And with that life would come strength, power, greatness… A chance, perhaps, to one day return to his people, even earn their respect. He could earn allies, powerful allies. He could have anything he wanted…

Anything he wanted…

But what if peace was what he wanted?

Sam thought about these matters.

And then he made his decision.

He raised his hands in the air, and brought them down hard. Mabel’s body broke and twisted and came to pieces as he smashed her to death. And each blow brought more resolution, more clarity, more confidence to his soul, as he knew then and there exactly the type of man he was. But it also broke his heart, for he knew that he was throwing away what could be his one and only chance at honest friendship.

In that moment, he hated himself more than he had ever hated another, so that he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and longed more than anything in the world to change his decision. But there was no going back on it now; he had sealed his soul and his fate, with a sin so cruel and monumental that could not be undone, even within his own mind. And with this burden on his heart, he turned and left the lab, to continue a life that led ever deeper into darkness.

At least.

That’s exactly what would have happened.

But instead, before he made his decision, while he still thought about these matters, he was distracted. And while he was distracted, Mabel’s hand darted forward, and plucked the time machine out of his hand.

The action was so quick, so nimble, and so utterly unexpected, that he didn’t even have time to react until she was already gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

Already gone.

- Time:

- 2013 A.D. (somewhen)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack

The ethereal blast of the time-jump left her disoriented as her feet touched down in Ford’s study in some other distant time. She wasn’t sure exactly when she was, she just knew that she was safe.

It worked. Mabel gasped.

As soon as she was sure, her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the cold wooden floor, crying and shaking and maybe even laughing just a tiny little bit. “I’m sorry…” She blubbered. “I’m sorry Sam… I’m sorry… I lied… You…” She choked. “You don’t get a happy ending you gross, fat, lying, murdering, poop-headed JERK! …You killed my brother… Nobody… Nobody gets to do that… Nobody… Nobody… Nobody…”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 2:50pm (about the same time, maybe a little before)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (some place on the way back from the Shifter’s lair)

The close metal walls of the alien ship creeped with slime, rust, and decay. In every direction they stretched, great decrepit monoliths interwoven with deliberate purpose by beings long since dead. The trusses and members of the walls curved over and beneath and around the hallways, like the uneven, bloated ribs of some monstrous, shapeless corpse. The rays from the headlamp reflected strangely off the faded metal surfaces, casting shadows shaped like reflections, and reflections shaped like shadows.

It was a scary place on its own. Human minds have always guarded a natural fear of the strange and unknown, and this environment seemed designed to foster such unease. Any pillar might seem to hide an enemy. Any dark area might conceal death. Everything but the very nearest walls were a mystery, forgotten since time out of mind.

Wendy should have been afraid.

But this place wasn’t strange or unknown to her any more. She understood it, and the very real, very dangerous threats that inhabited it: the cold reckoning and electronic reflexes of patrolling security machines, and the wily, bloodthirsty intelligence of a timeless, formless beast. There was a reason, she knew, that this place had gone unnoticed for so very long: everybody who ventures inside was killed. Murderous natures did lurk around every corner. Fear was never irrational.

Wendy should have been afraid.

And yes, she did want out of here.

Yes, she wanted nothing but to return to peaceful places, to be reunited with loved ones, and to lie quietly at home in the light, far from harm and the burden of destiny and violence.

Yes, she was in phenomenal pain.

Yes, she was probably bleeding out.

Yes, she was trying very hard to keep her eyes open, because she knew that if she bent over and fell asleep now, she would never awake.

But she wasn’t afraid.

Not even a little.

Not anymore.

Her slow, limping trudge was interrupted by a quiet noise from somewhere up ahead. A pair of security drones hovered around a corner and fixed her with their unwavering red stare. Beneath their smooth surfaces, all manner of weapons charged and readied.

But their sensors swept her, and found none of the usual chemical markers of hostility. They saw her calm. Perhaps one of them sent a request to the security officer, asking for input on how to deal with this subject. But the officer never responded.

“Don’t even try it.” Wendy muttered up at their unhearing stares. “She’s already dead. And I’m already gone.”

She never stopped walking. And the drones did nothing but watch as she approached, watch her pass between them, and watch her backside as she continued on her way.

Soon now… So soon, and it would all be over. Once she finished her tasks and closed all the time loops, she would be free to undo all of history. Return things to the way they were supposed to be. Return to peaceful days free of sickness. Return to the nights when she could sleep easy. Return to a time when killer robots were the worst she had to deal with.

Return to the mission.

Return to him.

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 4:28pm (less than a minute after Sam’s appearance)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack

Ford didn’t honestly have time to put together what all was happening. All he knew was that somehow, the shapeshifter was right here in the Shack, his niece was helpless and asleep behind him, and this thing is a much faster than I…

Strong hands grabbed him by the collar and hurled him headfirst toward the wall. He winced instinctively to prepare for the impact, as he reached for a weapon hidden in his coat.

Then there was a flash of blue light, and he didn’t hit the wall; he hit Mabel.

They both went into a pile on the floor.

“OOF! HEY! WHAT?!?”

Mabel stood back up unharmed and ecstatic. “It worked! It worked!” She blared like a siren. “I saved you! It worked!”

“Umm! Uh! Agh! What’s happening?” He staggered to his feet and drew the gun. He saw the shapeshifter standing in the middle of the room, frozen mid-throw… And he saw that Mabel was still where he’d left her, asleep in the chair. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure who he should be aiming at: the frozen shapeshifter, or the mysterious second Mabel?

Before he could do either, the mysterious second Mabel had her arms wrapped tightly around his hips, squeezing him in a tight hug and jumping up and down at the same time.

“I can’t believe I did it! It worked! It worked! I time-traveled like an expert pro and I froze time and I saved you! At first I was confused because time machines should just have only two buttons, for forward and backward, but instead it had a bunch of other buttons and one of them said ‘FRZ’ which I first thought stood for ‘Fat Rolling Zebras’ but then I realized it stood for ‘FReeZe’ as in ‘freeze,’ so I tried it out and time froze so here we are, and I’m sorry when I’m excited I tend to deliver exposition in really long unbroken sentences!” She finally took a breath. “But anyway it’s like destiny or something! IT WORKED!”

Ford poked his fingers up under his glasses to rub his eyes, then tried to compose himself as he waited for the spots to clear. He took a deep breath. He was still sick with a high fever, and still running on about 2 hours of sleep; not the best conditions to go on any type of adventure, let alone making sense of whatever the heck this was. “Okay.” He said anyway. “I think I got it, but just in case… Would you remind repeating all that again? Significantly slower this time please.”

Sam stared at the place where Mabel had disappeared, having taken his fate, his hope, and his one possession with her.

He had been tricked.

But he was not unintelligent. He was not unfamiliar with the way time travel worked. He knew in an instant what this meant.

It meant that she was going to save her uncle. That had been the real reason he disappeared. It was her who’d taken him, not to kill him as Sam would have, but to save him. Now that Sam’s greatest, oldest enemy had access to the tape, Sam realized that he could be easily killed at any time. Just as I killed the boy. At any point they could freeze the flow of time, and appear among that breach in the flow with a deadly weapon at the ready. I won’t see anything. I won’t feel anything. At any moment now, any moment at all, I’ll see a flash of bluish light, and when it fades, I will stand with a mortal wound.

Any moment now…

Any moment now, and the good guys will win.

Any moment.

Sam stared at the place on the floor.

He imagined Mabel standing there again, and tried to think what he might try to say to her if he could. What could he say? Could he apologize? Could he beg? Could he undo time and give her back her beloved brother? No… Yes… No… Perhaps… If only she were here again… Oh, who am I kidding? If she were here again, the only smart option would be to kill her again…

Then he imagined Stanford there, and tried to rehearse what he might say to him. Could he reason with him? Could he accuse him? Or just beg for mercy all over again; beg to be consigned to another terrible life in a cold prison beneath the ground? It would be so much better than death… ANYHING was better than death. Anything but that cold, dark, mysterious hell… No… No, if Ford were here, I would just attack him again. Because I will not suffer prison again. Never, not again, not one minute more. Death, any death, would be better than that.

He imagined Tambry there. What the devil could he say to her? Perhaps, before he died, he would have liked to tell her that he really did love her. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but he wished so badly that it was. Most of all, he would’ve just liked to thank her for loving him, and for leading him through the one beautiful week he’d ever had in his life; the one he’d spent in the light. That, he knew, was true. Oh, Tambry… If you were here… I could tell you that I did indeed love you… But if you were here, you would finally see me for who I really am, and then you would hate me, just like all the others. You would hate me for being a monster. And I would kill you and possibly eat you, because… Because…

Why? Why are you so bloodthirsty, Sam? Why is every inclination of your soul only evil all the time? How did you come to be the monster that you are? What foul soul did you inherit from that psycho mother of yours? What black deeds must she and her kind have done, far away and long ago, so black and pitiless and cruel that they echo right down to you…?

Then he imagined his mother there.

And he couldn’t imagine a single thing he could possibly say to her. He couldn’t even bring himself to meet her eyes. He bowed his head.

“You’re weak.” In the back of his mind, he heard his mother’s words whispering down at him. “If you were strong, you could have killed him when you were a child. If you were strong, you could have escaped. If you were strong, you could have killed them all. If you were strong, you could have been worthy to stand, worthy to be called my son. If you were strong… If you were strong… If you were strong…

If I was strong…

Sam couldn’t cry. His eyes didn’t naturally have any tear ducts, for his body was slimy enough already. And he couldn’t’ scream. He’d never screamed before, only roared or snarled. But those were sounds for anger, for fight-or-flight, for pain of the body. He didn’t know what sound to make for this pain of the soul, or for this incredible, overpowering mortal fear. He knelt down on the floor and he wondered if he could pray at least.

Dear God.

Dear God…

…

God, I hate you too.

There was nothing else to say, nothing at all.

But a song did come to mind.

It was an old, classic song, one that McGucket used to play 30-something years ago, down in the lab on an old record player. It was long ago in Sam’s youth, and he hadn’t quite understood the meaning of the words back then. But he recalled them now, and now he understood. Indeed, it seemed as if it had been written for him, so he quietly recited it.

“Well, my name, it is Sam Hall, Sam Hall.

Yes, my name, it is Sam Hall, it is Sam Hall.

My name it is Sam Hall, and I hate you one and all.

And I hate you, one and all,

Curse your eyes.

…

I killed a man, they said, so they said.

I killed a man, they said, and I smashed in his head.

And I left him lying dead,

Curse his eyes.

…

But a-swinging, I must go, I must go.

A-swinging, I must go, I must go.

A-swinging, I must go while you critters down below,

Yell up, “SAM I TOLD YOU SO!”

Well curse your eyes.

…

I saw Mabel in the crowd, in the crowd.

I saw Mabel in the crowd and I hollered, right out loud,

“Hey there Mabel, ain’t you proud?

Curse your eyes.”

…

Then the sheriff, he came to, he came to.

Ah, yeah, the sheriff, he came to, he came to.

The sheriff, he come to and he said “Sam, how’re you?”

And I said, “Well, sheriff, how’re you?

Curse your eyes…”

…

My name is Samuel, Samuel.

My name is Samuel, and I’ll see you all in hell.

And I’ll see you all in hell.

Curse your eyes…”

He shifted one of his hands into a long, bony stinger. And he placed it under his chin. He lowered the bone density in his skull so that it would be easy and painless.

“…And I’ll see you all in hell…

…Curse your eyes…”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 3:05pm (one hour previously)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (last known location of Wendy, Stan, McGucket, and Robbie)

A short time jump, a two-mile walk, and a seemingly endless ladder later, Ford and Mabel found themselves slowly and stealthily progressing through the engine room of the alien spacecraft. Mabel’s story mulled around in Ford’s head, while worry and anger built up in his chest.

“Wow, this place is creepy. How come you never brought me down here? Are there lots of aliens? It’s dirty down here. They must have run out of soap. And did they invent sparkles on their world? We need to take them to our glitter. Wow, di-”

“And you’re sure the Valentino boy was replaced?” Ford interrupted.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “You’re sure that he went down here with everyone?”

“Yes…” Ford hissed. His worry increased with the darkness and the silence and their depth beneath the ground, and his anger increased with Mabel’s constant talking and chattering and cheeriness. Why couldn’t she just calm down and be quiet? Didn’t she realized the danger wasn’t yet passed?

Eventually, the walls began to shake, and a great noise filled the air. Ford pulled Mabel for cover, and they sat there together in the dark, waiting for the noise to pass. Ford realized that it must be McGucket; he must have gotten the ship’s reactor working again… At least he hoped it was him… He hoped his friend was still alive, still in control… One worry on top of another.

“So what are we doing down here, again?” Mabel asked.

Ford’s patience was growing dangerously thin.

“We.” He growled. “Need to find the others, and warn them about the shapeshifter. There’s no telling where and when it has been, or what it did, before you trapped it. It could have been here right at this very moment…!”

“That last sentence was pretty confusing, but okay, I’ll be quiet!” Mabel whispered a little too loudly. “Wait, hold on, when are we right now? Are we in the present?”

“Every time is the present when you’re in it.” Ford rolled his eyes. “It’s a subjective term.”

“Brain hurting…”

“To answer your question, we’re about an hour before you stole the time machine from it. With any luck, that will prevent it from seeing us coming.”

“Hmm… Okay, yeah, but actually, I think he’s a ‘he’ not an ‘it’. I mean since he has a soul and everything.”

“What?”

“Right? I mean, living underground for so long probably made him really sad and angry. And now that he’s out, he got a name, and a mom, and he really started to… You know, really become his own person and everything… Like, his revenge is wrong and everything, but it still makes sense…”

“The… The… The ability to think…” Ford stuttered. “D-d-doesn’t make you a person. Neither does the ability to lie. But that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that we find everyone else, get them to safety, and get out again without being seen by something worse…”

“Stealth mode… Activated.” Mabel pulled her sweater up over her nose, and combed her hair into a ninja mask.

Ford paused to stare at her. “…Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better at least!” He suddenly burst. “You know, for a girl who just lost her brother to a murderous monster that she unleashed herself, you’re acting awfully chipper, you know that?”

That hurt.

But Mabel was used to hurt after all this. She’d already reached rock bottom today. Rock bottom was a terrible place to be… But Dipper had met her there. He’d still loved her there, and he’d helped her rise back up.

“He forgave me.” Mabel said.

Ford lost his temper as he stood up and continued down the passage. “Then he’s a BETTER MAN than I!”

That hurt even more.

Mabel was silent from that point on.

And Ford pushed onward, trying to ignore his own guilt, as he wondered if perhaps he was the one the shifter truly hated. Perhaps all of this was just an elaborate, contrived ploy to get back at him… Perhaps it’s all my fault. Perhaps that really was an intelligent creature I locked in my lab for all those years. Perhaps if I’d treated him as an equal, or a friend, or a child, then… No. NO! It’s an ‘it’! It’s evil! It killed! And it will kill again! Ford pushed his guilt, and his doubt, and all other cluttering, pointless thoughts toward the back of his mind. And he promised to think about it later; sometime when everything was safe. Sometime when he could afford to waste even a single moment on such thoughts. Sometime when real people, when humans, when family, weren’t in danger of death.

Finally, a dim yellowish light appeared not far ahead, reflecting green off the bluish walls. They rounded one last corner to find the light shining out through a crack in a heavy metal door; Ford recognized it as the entrance to the control room. Somebody must still be inside. Please be Fiddleford and Stan. Please be alive…

But then Ford noticed something very odd: this hallway had been rather empty the last time he’d been down here. But now it was messy; cluttered with debris and broken machinery and thousands of shards of shattered glass. He motioned Mabel to a standstill, and pulled out a magnet gun as he bent to inspect the wreckage. He recognized a lot of these parts; fusion pulse weapons, tentacled robot arms, and scraps of spherical glass shells, perhaps 2 meters wide.

“What’s all this clutter? Was this an alien attic or something?” Mabel whispered from his elbow.

“No, these are security drones… Or they were…” Ford poked at it with the barrel of the magnet gun.

“Are they all dead?”

“Well it definitely appears as if… Wait.” Ford’s eyes swept the carnage. Toward the opposite end, a single motor twitched. One of the red triangular eyes lit up briefly to look at him.

Ford flipped the gun to its pulse setting, and shot it. The red eye flashed, and sparks arced across its body, frying and scrambling its circuits. The remains of its artificial intelligence realized it ought to send some manner of report back to the central mainframe, but it was so frazzled that its last words ended up being nothing but an incoherent string of nonsense: “INTRUDERS DETECTED INCONCLUSIVE REFERENCE CODE RETURN THREAT LEVEL UPGRADED TO JELLY ROLL ONE: ERROR 443\]kl;/oij#JE’~~3Dde~~~…” It broadcasted with the last of its consciousness.

“Now they’re all dead.” Ford answered confidently.

“Okay. So-”

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” A new voice spoke up, coming from the control room entrance. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

Ford spun on his heels. The narrow sliver of light creaked open to its full width, and the silhouette of his twin brother was suddenly standing in the gap.

“Ford?”

“Stanley?”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 3:05pm (concurrent)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (Wendy)

It seemed like hours of walking, with the pain burning through every wound in her body, blood pooling from the spike in her stomach, and her legs stiff beneath her. It was probably only 20 minutes or something, but still.

Finally, she reached the control room at the ship’s center, and pulled the tape to jump back to right before she’d heard the ship’s engines going off; back when she’d first realized drones were being sent to kill McGucket and Stan.

She hit the ‘freeze’ button on the tape as she appeared, and took a moment to look around. Sure enough, there were no fewer than 8 drones approaching the control room, and sure enough, the old men had no idea what was coming. Stan was even asleep.

Ugh.

Well, they’re too high of the ground to use an axe… And I left the ray gun somewhere… Ugh… Oh hey, wait, McGucket brought that new death ray of his, didn’t he? Yeah, he has it down here…

She stumbled into the control room, unfroze the massive weapon, and brought it back outside.

Okaaaay, soo… How do you turn this thing on?

She messed with it for a couple seconds, flipping this switch and that, pulling the trigger, and scratching the record (why is there a record player?) Eventually she found a switch that made it make a whole lot of funny noises, and another one that turned on the ‘ignition’ light. The weapon roared to life in her hands, and a swirling, glowing pink ball of pure sci-fi-ness formed a few inches from the tip. She aimed it upwards at the first drone and pulled the trigger.

Wham.

The time-frozen room glowed with brilliant pink light for a moment, as the superheated beam tore through the robot’s shell. The grass cracked, the metal components melted, and its batteries violently burst.

But time was still frozen, so its debris just hung motionless in the air, mid-explosion, as Wendy aimed the weapon at the next drone.

Wham.

And the next.

Wham.

Finally they were all dead, and Stan and McGucket were safe.

Huh. Wow. She looked down at the death ray. I actually REALLY like this thing. She unfroze time just long enough to watch the robots’ wreckage clatter to the ground, and catch the stench of warm smoke. Then she dropped the death ray where she stood, and stepped back into the shadow of a nearby pipe to think through strategy: Okay, so they’re safe, that’s a real load off. But now how do I find Sam? How do I get myself medical attention when I can’t trust anyone? How do I keep him from killing Mabel and Ford and everybody else? Where do I go from here?

Oh man, I’m still bleeding…

Every time she thought about her injury, it seemed to be getting worse. And always she seemed to be getting tired faster. Things were getting… Weird… And every time she sat down, it was harder and harder to force herself to stand back up.

After 10 minutes of balancing torture and sleep, she was forcefully drug out of her brooding by the sudden loud discharge of a magnet gun.

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” Stan’s distant voice mirrored her thoughts. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

Wendy forced herself to an upright sitting position, and peaked around the pipe to see what was happening.

Much to her surprise and suspicion, she saw two guests that she’d presumed dead.

“Ford?”

“Stanley, is that you?”

“Bro, why are YOU down here? I told you to get some rest!”

“The real question is why y’all’re down here!” Mabel piped up. “It’s colder and creepier than the county jail down here! Heck, creepier than a unicorn dungeon! Dare I say, even creepier than a gnome drunk-tank!”

“Mabel!” Stan noticed his great niece standing there with him. “Sweetie! Are you okay? What’re you…? What’re you both doing down…?”

“Stanley give me your hand.” Ford commanded, rushing up to him. “Here. Now. Give it. Quickly and quietly now; we haven’t got all day. Mabel, stand guard, would you?”

“What woah hey what’s the matter with-” Stanley began to protest as Ford grabbed his wrist, drew a small knife, and pricked a hole in Stan’s palm. Stan drew his hand back as fast as he could react, and clutched his wounded fist to his chest. “OW HEY GEEZ FORD WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!? YA COULDA KILLED ME!”

“I… I was just…” Ford looked at the drops of red fluid trickling out of his brother’s fist. “Red blood. Good. My apologies, it was a necessary evil. Stanley, we’ve got a-”

“Look poindexter, I don’t gotta put up with this! I’m OLD!”

“We’ve got a problem.” Ford continued. “Where’s Robert?”

“I said I’m too old for this!” Stan gave one last try at driving the idea appropriately far into his brother’s brain. “TOO. OLD… And wait, who in Stalin’s pits is ‘Robert’…?”

“The Valentino boy! Shaggy, gangly little creature. Wears a hoodie? Eyeliner? Human, I believe.”

“…Oh you mean Robbie? Yeah, he was here earlier. McGucket said he ran off with Wendy about an hour ago. Thought they’d be back by now.”

“Oh, blast it all…” Ford nervously glanced about.

Wendy sighed, and drew her axe. If Ford and Mabel were real, then that was 4 of her friends accounted for, and she could get their help. But if one of them was the Shifter… She didn’t know how she’d face him in her current state, but it would be better to get it out of the way now than later. “ALL RIGHT YOU TWO…” She announced, as loudly and strongly as she could muster. “HERE’S HOW IT IS.”

Everyone turned about, looking for the source of her voice. Ford drew a ray gun and pointed it toward her hiding place in a fit of panic.

“Stan 2…” She struggled upright, using her axe like a walking stick. “You… You know about the shapeshifter… Which means you either beat him, or you are him. So… So prove the first one or I swear I’ll, like… Do something bad…”

“Uh… I can vouch for him!” Mabel spoke up. “He ain’t been out of my sight!”

“And I can vouch for Mabel…” Ford said. “But now YOU… Uh… You’d better be the real Wendy…!”

Wendy figured that was proof enough. Or maybe it wasn’t… Oh, heck if she knew. And even if it wasn’t, she couldn’t fight like this…

She stepped out into the light.

She was bleeding the color red from enough places that they no longer found her suspect.

“Geez, girl, you alright?!?” Stan took in her injuries. “C’mon, sit down! What got ya?”

“Uh…” Wendy finally seemed to partially relax, and let Stan lead her over to a big, round alien chair in the control room. “You… You guys are all okay… You’re all alive. I thought…”

“Wendy, I’m dreadfully sorry, but we have bigger problems!” Ford told her. “We have reason to believe that the Shapeshifter had a parent, likely possessing time-travel capabilities of far-reaching extent. Have you s-”

“Neutralized.” Wendy collapsed into the chair, while Stan fumbled with a first aid kit. “I… T-t-took care of it.”

Ford blinked. “You… Did? It’s captured?”

“Dead.” Wend winced as Stan lifted her jacket to inspect the wound. “She’s dead.”

Mabel put her hand over her mouth. “You killed her?”

Ford frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeh.” She grunted quietly.

“Uh…” Ford noticed the greenish filth covering her shirt and forearms for the first time, and was shocked to realize it was all blood. “Uh… Y-y-yes…” He stuttered. “I should think so…”

“Where’s…” Wendy grunted. “W-w-where’s the other one? The first one? Has anyone seen him?” She fixed her eyes on Ford and Mabel. “YOU’VE seen him. Where is he? I’m going to kill him too…”

“The heck you are!” Stan growled, as he kept pressure on her wound with one hand, and rustled through the first-aid kit with the other. “I ain’t no doctor, but you’re in a real bad way, so you’re staying right here until we get ya patched up. You shouldn’t even be walking!”

“Yeah… Yeah I am…!” Wendy pulled a time tape out of her pocket, and coughed. “I know I am, because this one just came flying out of the air at me at the start of the battle, and there’s no way for me to get it except prying it from his cold dead hands and that means I-”

“Wait…” Ford snatched the machine from her grip, and inspected it closesly. It was perfectly identical to the one they’d taken from Sam, right down to the same exact dents and scrapes. He pulled its duplicate out of his pocket. “No, we already did… It’s the same one…”

Wendy stared. “…You mean… You got him…?”

Ford nodded. “Neutralized…”

Wendy blinked tiredly. “Oh.”

“And so if I’m understanding this right, this one a past version of this one…” Ford held up the two tapes. “You have to help me understand this, I-”

“Ford.” Stan growled, as he glared at his brother. “I’ve got my fingers in this girl’s INNARDS trying to pull out a HARPOON, and you’re trying to TECHNOBABBLE with her. Stop talking.”

“…Well. Wait…” Ford scratched his head. “Okay. I know how I can help. I know what I can do… I just need to know where this ‘fight’ is…”

All of a sudden, there was a flash of blue light, and another Ford appeared standing in the room, looking as if weary from a journey. “Well, that’s that…” The second Ford sighed. He glanced at present Ford. “Take the Norther cargo doors out of the engine room, then follow the 3rd hallway on the left as far as it goes. You’ll reach a loose hatch in the left wall near where it’s collapsed, and you can find your way from there.” She pointed to the tape he’d taken from Wendy. “Use that one to return to now.”

“Got it.” The first Ford nodded.

“Also, don’t interfere with anything!” The second Ford added. “DON’T interfere. It already happened the way it did. She got hurt, but she won, so you don’t DARE even RISK messing ANYTHING up…”

“Understood.” Present Ford disappeared, and everybody was left staring at the second Ford: the one who’d just come back from completing the final mission.

“That… That’s that…” Ford sighed.

“That’s it…?” Wendy whispered, scarcely daring to believe it. “That’s it…” She realized it was true, and had a feeling as if a great load had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders.

“What’s it?” Mabel scratched her head.

“I’m kinda perplexified by what gist happened…” McGucket admitted.

“I’ve learned to accept my confusion for what it is.” Stan had totally ignored everything in the past two minutes. But now he sat back, wiped his hands on his shirt, and looked at his brother. “Okay, I think I got the bleeding stopped; least until we can get back to the Shack. So. Now we can talk.”

“Okay… I’ll see if I can put this into simple words…” Ford adjusted his glasses and prepared. “So… Wendy… Ah… Wendy just got through with a… Fight. A very… Intense fight; I watched the whole thing. And… I now no longer doubt Stanley’s claim that her father can wrestle a bear. Also… Wendy, I have to say that you’re much smarter and tougher than I ever gave you credit for. And I don’t doubt that your grit, ingenuity, and unsettlingly high tolerance for pain just saved all our lives.”

“Gee thanks.” She mumbled. “But you coulda helped out too while you were there…”

“Couldn’t risk it.” Ford stated briefly. “Now, moving on. A number of… ‘Stable time loops’ were employed during all today’s events. Things happened the way they did because time travel forced them to happen the way they already did. Information and persons traveling backward through a stable time-like curve result in recursive causality.”

“Ford.” Stan frowned. “Yer technobabbling again. We’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry, sorry… Anyway… To summarize, things were weird.” Ford summarized. “But now… To the very best of my knowledge, all those time loops are ‘closed’. That is, we’ve completed all the actions needed to make things happen the way they have. And, by some miracle of either talent, intelligence, luck, or all three, the way they happened is that we won. It’s all done. We are now officially free to live out the rest of our lives without fear of the Shapeshifters.”

“You mean Sam and his mom.” Mabel corrected him.

“I…” Ford considered that. “Yes… Yes… Sam and it’s… And his mom. We are free to live without fear of Sam and his mother.”

“But we won’t.” Wendy muttered.

“Hmm?” Ford clarified. “What did you say?”

“We won’t.” Wendy repeated. “Dipper’s dead. And we ain’t gonna leave him that way.”

“Oh, and also Robbie!” Mabel added. “Robbie’s probably dead too.”

“And Robbie.” Wendy agreed. “Right… Keep forgetting about him. But anyway, we’re going to save them. And… Okay. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I’ve got a good plan. I think that if I went back alone, there’s one single moment that I could change. And if I change it, if I knew then what I know now, then none of this would have happened. I know exactly where I need to go…”

“Well…” Ford winced as he looked down at the tape. “I’m… I’m not sure we can undo Dipper’s death with these. They seem to form stable time loops only and-”

“There’s a switch on the side.” Wendy sighed. “When it’s engaged, you don’t time-travel like normal, it just beams back your brain. It replaces a version of yourself at a previous date. Good for fixing mistakes, I guess.”

“Oh.” Ford flipped the switch, and then stared at the tape again for a minute or so. “But…” His voice was small. “But if we undo everything…”

“Yep. Sam’s mom will be back alive.” Wendy admitted, wishing she could forget that detail. “And Sam will be back in the bunker. It’ll be like nothing happened, because nothing did.”

“You… You saw her though!” Ford wished he wasn’t making the argument that he was. “You saw how dangerous she is! How psychopathic she is! How many people she’s killed! You LIVED through the experience of how MUCH it takes to DESTROY her! We CAN’T risk undoing that! Suppose she catches even the faintest HINT of what happened?!? She could be anywhere, anyone, anywhen…! She-”

“That’s less important!” Wendy retorted.

“It’s not that simple!” Ford pleaded. “Do you have any idea how lucky we were today?!?”

“I have an idea that I didn’t fight across time and space just to hide for the rest of my sorry, miserable life!” Stan tried his best to stop her, but Wendy pushed him aside and struggled to her feet, pressing her arm to her stomach to keep the bandages in place. She stepped right up into Ford’s face, and glared. “I did it because my best friend died, and I want him back…” She told him. “Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m tired, I’m in pain, and I just want to start fresh. So GIVE me back that tape, or YOU are an obstacle.”

“…Ms. Corduroy.” He said. “Be reasonable-”

“Mabel, go for it.” Wendy sighed.

Mabel leapt off a high shelf, and landed on Ford’s back. Her arms and legs all entwined themselves about his face and right arm, and her hair got in his eyes. He stumbled a little bit and almost fell over, so Wendy kicked him in the chest to finish the job, and the time machine flew out of his hand and into the air.

By the time Ford regained his composure, he was lying on the floor, bruised and coughing. Wendy and Mabel were standing over him.

And Stan had caught the tape.

“Stanley…” Ford coughed. “Stanley, you… We… You must realize this is foolishness…! You know we can’t do this again…!”

Stan stared at the tape.

He thought about it all for a good long minute.

“Y’know Poindexter…” He hummed. “When we were out sailing the world this last year… When we heard the siren’s song, did we turn around?”

“We… What?” Ford frowned.

“No. We didn’t.” Stan said. “What did we do? We pulled out our hearing aids, we sailed right in, we kicked their tails, and we found a whole chest of pearls, now didn’t we?”

“Well… Well, yes, I suppose we did, but what does that have to do with-”

“And how about when we ran into that bounty hunter? Did we hide from her? What woulda happened if we hid from her?”

“Then… Then we would have had to leave the rocket launcher behind…?” Ford frowned. “…And… I don’t know, probably would have been defenseless against the cyclocks…”

“And how about that one warlord? If we woulda put up our hands and backed out of that business, we’d be permanently banned from Peru, not to mention never meeting all those babes in that harem of his…”

“We’re in mixed company, Stanley.” Ford glanced toward the children.

“And how ‘bout Bill?!?” Stanley demanded. “When Bill had you during Weirdmageddon, WE were all SAFE! We coulda RAN! Left the town scot-free! Instead these morons drag me along to give up everything for your stupid hide, and wouldn’t ya know it, we just so happened to save this whole lousy dimension along the way!”

Ford nodded.

“And my brain…” Stanley said. “Soon as my mind was wiped, you all started right in helping me back up; mixing up old memories, tickling the old thinker, making me a Grunkle again… Even though ya must’ve worried that you might’ve been stirring Bill up too… Ya coulda left it be, but nooooo, instead you loved me too much, and now we all gotta worry that maybe he’s still rattling around in there, kicking stones and twisting wires…”

“If he ever comes back we can deal with it…” Ford growled.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Stan agreed. “That’s seriously, like, the moral of our entire adult lives; that we DON’T RUN…! Remember, we’re PINES! And Pines don’t leave family behind. We stand by each other through thick and thin… We’re there for each other! No matter what! Seriously, get your head in the game, poindexter…”

Ford’s eyes fell.

The room was silent for a moment.

“All right.” Ford whispered.

Stan handed the tape to Wendy. “Go get ‘em, sweety.”

“But…” Ford implored. “But we don’t know what’ll happen… Nobody can know…”

“HA HA! Well that’s the funny thing, isn’t it?” Stan chuckled. “Cause we kinda DO! Wendy here says she actually once met a future version of herself!”

“Dude.” Wendy frowned at him.

“Yeah!” Stan continued, with a beaming smile. “She was all grown up and everything! And this freaky chick says that her and Dipper are actually married by then! Can ya believe that?!?”

“What.” Ford’s expression went blank.

“EH?” McGucket almost dropped his glasses.

“SQQUEEEEE!” Mabel instantaneously lost all motor control.

“…You did not just say that.” Wendy glared at her Grunkle. “You gave me your word. You scumbag.”

“Wha-haaaaat? I’m rootin’ for ya babe!” Stan put up his hands and took a step back, smiling broadly. “And besides, this timeline is all gonna get undone anyway, so it’s not like I really spoiled anything!”

“This close.” Wendy growled, holding up her fingers to a very narrow width. “This close to having a brick shoved up your nose.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry… Yeah, uh… Okay, that wasn’t cool.” Stan glanced down at Mabel, rolling around on the floor and frothing at the mouth just a little. “Yeah, uh… Hmm… I guess you better get outta here then…”

“Darn right I better…”

“Hey.” He put a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “You done good kid. I, uh… I dunno what to say besides that this reality bites, so you go back and make a better one. You knock ‘em dead, you grow up to be that hero, and watch out for my nephew, hey? Make sure he does the same.”

“Yeah.”

“And also. You proved me right, kid.” He said sincerely. “This was your day to shine. Even if nobody saw it, you did it, and you proved for good an all that you are that hero. Hope he knows that.”

Wendy nodded.

“…Wait.” Ford said.

They looked down at him.

He stood slowly to his feet, a look of sorrow on his face. “I’m… I’m the villain in this story… I am, aren’t I.”

“The heck are you on about?” Stan frowned at him. “Y’know we’ve got time-traveling booger monsters runnin’ around, not ta mention killer robots up the wazoo…”

“No, I…” Ford rubbed his face through his hands. “I mean… Is it my fault, for treating… For treating ‘Sam’ like I did? Are they just monsters? Or are they people?”

“I treated ‘im bad as you…” Mumbled McGucket. “Like livestock…”

“Hey, what’s done is done.” Stan spread his arms. “Ya didn’t know all this back then, right?”

“But am I still the bad guy?” Ford asked. “Are they people? Do they think, feel, live, choose…”

“I dunno…” Wendy shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Then…” Ford nodded. “That means he has a soul. And that means I misused mine. That means that wrong was done… Uh… Would you mind… When you go back, would you mind telling past-me what happened? You don’t have to tell him everything, just… Just, he would have liked to know what could have been avoided… He’d like to know about the shapeshifter… And about who he is… It occurs to me that I’m sorry for what I did to him. It occurs to me I imprisoned him, and treated him unfairly for many years. If he ever could have been anything more than a monster… I’d have liked to know.”

Wendy nodded again. “Alright.”

“Biscuit Brown.” Ford added. “Carrot Costume.”

“Wait, what?”

“Tell past-me that.” Ford nodded. “‘Biscuit Brown’, and ‘Carrot Costume’… They’re codes. So that he’ll know that it’s serious.”

“Okay…” Wendy repeated the codes to herself with a shrug. They were bizarre, and nonsensical, but that’s part of what made them easy to remember. She fished out the pull-tab of the tape measure. “Guess this is goodbye, then, ish.”

“WAITWAITWAIT *cough* I GOTTA *cough* I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I’VE GOTTA COME TOO!”

“No.” Wendy told Mabel.

“BUT! UH! …But what about Robbie? I gotta stop him from going underground where he could get snagged by the shapeshifter! That means I definitely have to come back with you and uh incidentally know your secret also but that’s just a side detail I mean really who cares…”

“Well…” Wendy knew that, objectively, Robbie’s safety was much more valuable than Mabel not knowing. If it meant him living, Mabel had to come. She glared at Stan. “Now look what you’ve did.”

“Sorry.” He winced.

“Okay…” Wendy realized that she was too tired and worn and injured to even care. She glanced back at Mabel. “Fine… But if you tell anyone else…”

“Even Dipper?”

“Especially Dipper… Ugh… If you tell then I’ll…! I’ll… I dunno, I’ll do something bad… Okay?”

“Okay! I get it. You don’t have to worry. And besides, my vast network of spies would have eventually found out anyway, so it’s probably better this way.”

“…Yeah, I suppose that makes sense.”

Wendy held up the time machine, double-checked that the switch was in ‘unstable’ mode, and gripped her hand around the ‘backward’ button.

Mabel put her hand on the device too, so that the field would encompass both of them.

Wendy checked the time on her phone, then pulled the tape out to 4 days, 2 hours, and 15 minutes, then double-checked her math.

She knew where she was going.

This was going to work.

“Bye friends!” Mabel said. “We go to the past in the name of the future!”

“Adios.” Stan gave thumbs-up.

“Smell ya later!” Fiddleford danced a little jig.

Ford sighed, and closed his eyes. “Farewell.”

“And that’s all she wrote…” Wendy released the tape.

Voom.

Ph qry ermw, zvy ygo lgnlr bzs.

Dhw’v ysfzysev los nyufgzl vt mgkydafn hbv xpsl gm vyi rtfw ophb yox, wgjrwhx cttz zpa, zzmstafn kckn sie, jlgnztr walo vcd… Vprzswg nykj cgmsr lrode s uowfu zzgwlosl, igtsw s mogzrj; a tjlsx knlt ogbzx xxzw dsyuyi gyd klychxkc afv tclv vzwwjmif, lteid los zlzfrw ovifu hp swubfy wuc hwj jvccjcef, sur nykj cgmsr cenlbal h kiiro ox losci uhn… Al dom r jcese avyp nld kzhfyu, gyd vjlog knpy zsk zimko, ak ebqb ry ehwq’k zimko esuo cnykc.

Bml os qry oesv ucq.

Yk hak vlox.

Rto wzwys qry dhw?

Los zfm zf mfjchjitomkusmj ywoodf zcwzpd sfk gbv uaefwk vyi kjek, lv hubk sej xpfmk mzov dvce rz sej flk bfsp.

Il ohg u egcrgo, jmfztorauhz jiodof, oocmv zlld, ktcikn haddz kyik mrgclb ierj bq s zaucr xelss bcgvwe, darsfp csejw mciu czudv is xzyaefklr. Uej ehw xscii cls kdvdyu oywsjk zcbk l szsszin iznw, lvkuij l djspb wfbprwv pb zztp mwko; zcbkwy ewhbn ku noddlqn ykc ujaus uej hakll. Gbv ylt mh hbx dugev sycoej ehw jvcg, rto fgmur ck zz bw kv ggrrw tzsa gbv izudv acotn molz zwxvy lt gfjs.

Myk aewjlr wcudedq hh nyk comfk kucrd, afv mcoej ehsl avyp cprw kswayzwy ljhbmggcefl; hg cw yse owys fzbtny augcuk l gayhbnzi eekl aivv. Uftkaks nyk eutw zhifj wofy swhvy zf glosl kamek au juiozuk kpnyj, gyd af isnnkpn lzlfy nkce ogyyvvtnhwk, sov vwfihelbn, rto sljhbav, zpnlsjzyu iceslbfyj ge wgjr.

Gbv xpcgyuwtvj ehwkl qlvgeujwz; hbve hejw avy jgxe ozpqb ygo ifnhryu npr ogyzx; knp ssel kbzis hsv ksmtkydwv mfid zse kcf hi iulm oaav wrxpfjwl oougnilq; avy jgxe ozpqb ygo kadssx ykc pwgwzy; knp ssel kbzis hsv rwfcko hae.

Hg nyk xifmasm konkwv im uej ehwq wocu npr fg ucnzip, szw zon lv lnv tluue zz wsljv nykx.

Il ibwwbrj bwuhay trpaj lv vyi zsal losmv vlrlajifrx nrwsailvy hejw uscknpr ugueovxprk fvf qrxcigjz, wh wgnt lzlm qvxp nglowhx szrw looh jiteflpgnj, czrcauu nf gyadqgs uej fnvwygnrto add avy kntnyk avyp nld xgbbx. Knpy kwlayu kicallr, okzprdq lbuducev ophb knpij ovfe rto tzwpf wlxtomkphs rto tzw zdyckydav ysmlres gx avyzx dtjsuuy kkdtk. Wphbvx oivf’a yhfc zr vakb’n tgce stvin knp ssnhuy dkehgvz ps nntcz loss’u gnqmaysx knpij kbpdvies.

Wnlbnlgwlq loss dgoe lzlwl ngj dgou hbv rtnw lv vyi zfbw, sur vvmln lg asmk npr.

Lzlm mkank kehzf kuzlk auhi ykc pjazch ku aocw hbx gxzd zwy. Hcjyfe kstdfvy hejw aoevt. Hijwz kyik waav vjyi npr kuhzj ku dcjmawhzfp hwj twhu. Zsejehz, r-igj, afv tcfviflsj kwmgrlcwelbn zslgafn uumk ehwe cwyny lnv yyojyy zf wnlfs jwfajw pbwy uq hwj icxp. Yzmw gm hbv zpslk oilk. Yzmw gm hbvs hejw pbprytvw. Kvay fl ehwe sszk npr laysx rto afyym.

Vlz ehjgbub zz lld, kos hvbpr yscs og npr jwzcfmk lnv zlf wrrx. Afv hg nyk somjz hctqpd tq hbx kacnwv pbnf jlyk, kos qrznhwv avyd, pfsl sz qffyplq sz hbve haluosx ykc. Szw dontnpd lzla fzqp a tayr qrznhwk wfyp, rtkw s nihjrtnywy kukisek s jvucrpnywy, zcbk l dwllqnzbp wsljvyj zse egcsgvte ox s zvuuuhy wflas. Jnp lakashvj eo lzlwl cgygmsns, uej dhw ohhwyko tzwpf avyeujwz ohu zseaj isbrbtojk, hbx jnp csel hi ltoejkaohu zsee. Muryiyeafv avy jizpw sur jlxaokw vt nyktr ogyy, uej ehw kpny rto cgewzyooey gx avcj ysih, sur nyge hwj vkh grlnwl dome’z ehw xpfmk zz rwulwpv yfcz lysukspnl.

Kos ymkytmsszs tgxe lg bbxvxdtsfk hbvs aejxlqnce.

Lnv kos brzpd lzla.

Fftr bwxvfy knp twkag brj noehssnvj, hhadl gbv cls klpzf zt ehw eprmk uq hwj woce, csef kos qry qewdpba ry dmsds ohu gd hwdwzyjy ls kzl spvx, dhw dvcevj zul sa vyi kyeealg, uej xavw osl uknikavb.

Myk xavw hb irzs.

Szw zkiik fpgf owm jufl lzhh myk homdk opvtre zat. Gbv yhojw avuk yse ogbzx fbprugts ucr ehwkl tilr ehafng; mtopnlazhm, juwdawyg, gftdtwjz, ofzkys, sfk shkoce sjtwyj… Yse kovfy knlt kzl kilro gjgd— Ulfc fnlas gbv hpcsel hbv WFEWF vt nyod vwkzsf, rto tzsa gbv czudv RWFC kgejq zwhxrp msf, dcgrt, lnv kuwpvrtny uowfu zsal dpjyu uybgsyr…

Myk dwgjl wn. Lvzn zaz ayducy, sfk ijft lld los xiklmk loon knpy zsk rlvgxt, kzl gqfxp il. Sur qyky szw oox ykc ohhvfnltttq, oosh jknujaam qvte lsp, dvye gwl osz eozke afv avyp gwl zsk hbvoc bsurg nlxyev… Kos qfawd sua ijft tt.

Al dom ftwy s ehhnvx zf lats.

Uej xesfdvcck, dhw ovifu yfrnacs.

“Sfac bagscazill kanbukace vglgh’k sltuz dwny gyy gx avy fzsej uysukacek au vyik, lnv gbf hvacodgnwwrr dcsfz whuonalw avuk ezu darsfp vzskwzg mfsp dwyysy fl deflpshtk. Xojwvjyi, ezu zscsh’k xpshguryu zz tzw asmky ls sf hbcdgw wgmsr, fvgoify bg nf hplawcs nyge ygm hfy zteeflpchrrwy zakwhx ezuj siwfzztek sur cezpldanshtk… Mul… Tbh qv’xp ngl oslv zz hmja mil. Cp rwsszs rxpn’l, A dohk ezu lg bbxvxdtsfk hbrz. He bmzh qrte tg cucq puf. Ww’jl qoiozuk, jpubk? Ezu cfvk qyge cmjpcoj od, dgf’a mil…? Yz… Sg am mil iln mfksljzlnv el, cl zl jom’jl qidvcezwurcem lnqlowhx O’x ssqpba, grpakw nwpv yzmw kvfn fl diyf… P fyrrwy vgu’h gvgy ygm hbs ygcm…”

Kzl zifqpd mh hh Xi. &X/\MJ sk os nrrvev, sur myk fnvwygnfuo pwjmswkrj. Sgelvin zse ‘mfpjyiyll ljhbmcgeoj’ (gy kbrzpvwj os wrrwev loon ukgiuw) zsydko tg tl qidsfnauhhcem oijwjhfp oytg zlf vigtn, kg avuk zse ewhbcem mezaur Xi. &X/\MJ’k fhgucrj, slmjy-og bziuw dom zsaokkppfv zz makz. Pok yse vakb’n ikdpgfk myk. Oy ojvlf zfx ehak ac af npr osf, vy ygo tg ylh bzs eo ljbgn ykc. Szw oox ku rel zpa nf rpt zaz uorxo dgou.

“Dfvgde, s kpuh. Rtj sayu on rrw, rwsszs… Puf kfgd, ky ygo ygm zhiiko walo hbv ayifllzfzmpnl uhfaf, jzwf au hbv rzwwj sspvrd. Ix qvi jiuge lg hqnlgwlq tl o mvteiwfa pyztr, ww uvifu aagjsks sfac salbonzuy walo qyizlif sjqidszdslpchj; lfld-kpnyu wfajllfm, modilgyg, u mgciwlf cz dkllk… Qvi xft’e swwt hi cove lzl ofxgw pskas, vlz he usu tusxtcsll ayrz ls owsz, ii… Uc sowlhm? Uu jom dpyy jcpelk? Johue…?”

Ehak dom ftp ox los mtopnlazhm nnz pjgisx ykc (dav avyp zsifc zvy tuflvf’a fyturnarl vcd?). Hft mfswev zse gloslj, np swwtsx boyd. Kzl’r bvgcd zat cvaknt lg h tyn uq tzw tclv oyvskpjy kkdtk, zl’r xiuapwv swnkrp tjwhhm zteo zwy tyvjtny lbpy wxzm lats nf ztmw, sur bv’j lscwk cpvx lnv gcsl wuc tzw jvueip tg kwsub cttz zlf xzxpcldf. Vy iklldq dom rt sofwzh, qvrw-mwsuwhx, qtnvdf cfu sln, oaavilz lnq ehzctozuk auhyeztofk mcl knp cjwhhoikd hw kaixzko.

“Rwsszs…” Yk znuw huuzt cehwhhyu. “Xpaddf, W xf clnl ooon’j hpsl xvf sfa… Oo qgb… Ri puf hsnl o hrsp? Hsnl o avtoej? Kvaykntny qvi qrte? Afq xiyjztofk mcl dk? Lrw qvi nyk daew zdytops sk avy yudtadlg qyonh slaowbko omj lljcucalavb nvgx…?”

Szw nzueipd sl avy fzsej kjwyeztslk, hg cw yse osz ozigtd gx avyd. Jc. &R/\TB mfintpd, jwjcaeokify osl tuycwju. “Ib… Ln, homdk mil stnv kasjgoyg gma cz knp rggt tii g xoewuh, avtelwelb…?” Bv kycgmyoavj sik uvzfvgruwk, dvcck eujflr ungj fjgt hbv stcjgwviek. “T, uz… A oopv gy ivwh. W nyoyk kzl’g dlye susysx.”

Knpy vak om ztdtjmjhyu, gyd Vj. &Y/\PD kacnwv iowb zz hwj. “Ds’lv gwofw ucq…”

“…De… Xy fsts… Gp tlmw az ███████.” Gbv yaocw pb bvx yalacs frtrusyl, hi uodgmazs nyk qudd llnvte ox zlf cezpldanshtk.

“Fh…” Vj. &Y/\PD jkpmwv zvitqpd. “Owsz bvrwo!” Zw isudko. “I-a-aa’g mf bprq fpqy ku xewl fco, ███████! Knlt’k s cslp rzvwdf budk, fh… A’e zc acgo ygm kswzjpd lg afojz xe…”

“Qgb’fy r ttcw ehb…” Myk fswv h ggrrw taepr pfone, dars nyge ox s scmk mtrd, lv rcjmfikw osl dgwiuw. “P’a mfxcy A vprh’k zllc, A dom aadt kg zquiko, afv P kuezpd lg owxv… Gce… Sjl as dux afv kox zt sejw aci?”

Yk rlsfjsx rxzufv uslmufsdq mcl r ypcgfk. “Ob… Nkwl, fg… Uc, C’d yzrjq, iin pufr egavyi gyd xsavyi… Axm… Vakb’n dgve al. Iin nk’ce sds bctk aeghss bvxp! Ww’jl bik mzify ac blxe ygm! Fco tgy hsnl o hvc soew oslv…”

Gwl zaz kiijd wwjl zcvy, mul kos jzknev lvuyknpr kgts mtxlpk gm hllzs. Sg los myoa mmka vumk wexl vil nuclv. Ol aojz lld tl offtp ngo, vin zt ehw efgnvxtomk cccu. Zsejw pg hf nplh xvf gv, hft lzlfy zy llkg uc bvra fgj avyd… “Axm…” Kzl gbllqlwv osl wkpt. A flsx duce afmcldgeigf. P byvj waqgbhm fl oeucz, shxoyek, uoocey zf ugtauej. T nwwk cok. “Yz… Wzsa wm knts hdhqy vdlcldf?”

Hbv qtnv kjwyeztsl ohgnvj yo lats ce ucgsfpncem l tgmy, gi vgrej ohg bv zz fgkasl tuxmmfpqukozn sfk uifjhidd dwny zsik flkfp-jtsugcslvj tnlwszcxkyt damszfxx. Hw zhr bvx alsulr ce g xuuz avcetpr, hgyhusrp cgfaocekc, afv lgwfxeev zlf nyxzuyz avy cuh-swubfcke lrwsz cz knp szaw, gbfctny zlf nyod afv avuk, kipdspbcem soo los aiggilq kfcmk hojclr, uej ehw zfdyijcinw, hbx knp gqjvgwfvps sfk hbv oxpjgiovzrttq uvflvieigf kmhrszs. Sfk gbv gdkwv awgzj willss mkaaiv ibsmkoznk oowwy np afkdslvj eo lzl pyjz zf zaz ovzrttq.

Oosh knprw ohg zztlldq uc gfxp tg tl uuztpd lzycoxn eadc, zvy rieev. Kos mygaekzptnvj qoj los zzxdt lats mztne zwy shkxlpewuh, nrqtny gu o zfxx sljvba vtzuyz ac viklk lzycoxn ehw ysomj.

Yse jawdyu Jc. &R/\TB’z hbiult gma. Gbv gwsg cpzfvj 6 xojw wsigrp wzg oojgkyev lv py jzlnvauu hvgcbq, sur mgxlywv h hioon sdats uiufnv lv rykkc pmjziyiy. Dhw sas bvx qidd mfid zse tgkwyj (oe wsk zc afuo tg zhjy dklt syhwh), knpn vmjyyu oytg los pvteidsawie yjslwt, kbvxp szw oox r isaful hi jntfl auhi knp fgjt cz r jtfxwyshk yniwfawmk, gyd ugtdijk sejklzz nntlw kos jikaajwk hi gxzpwjsm celtlljhhy knp cjwd.

Pok zse kwjhii cpnl auhi cunkvgdb glis fskasl knln kzl srgkntwv, avy mkytadhhcft ouulz gyrrpd gxm, ohu zse kasshk, lwoslpba xalrvk jogv. Gwtzgbub knpsw jvihu, yeajauu grisifwz kyik calzlf mkaaiv au hbvoc oof ywayz, dhw uvifut’e fggs hbvoc bagtsnion swfzclj; zseq olfy nkwl wibwjgko tg kls nyxzuyz osl uodgmazs. Mf, hpfgjl hbvoc msff kyrvznk, kos mlxcefvlfyu gyd dwa vyiyplx tl rycogejwk putq eo lzl hosk.

Tt kwlayu rtkw s zhyg hlcc, tbh ck clsf’l, mcl jnp hsv ssuitpd. Dwhfhvj zf lzl quggmidaawyj uq hwj lbydops, sfk gidkehafn cz knpij oloeekdswk. Hg nyk hewcz ohu zsokw pbnf sznlzz, ohu gd tzw wceztr afv wfiujtny sur jiumify jchkoyuwv dwnyuft uwhgy, ykc pdsug ymuwvwv hbx xxpw. Xjva bvx eiew vin knprw, kos jlz eoywavyi sptzgkg nf uftoaa hbv jcofwz, hi seaakk scwbjzwfk, ac ezrw enwu aiik aeghss.

Myk vnwo ocq.

Jnp wgmsr mlxginw.

#The Forest Of Daggers #wendip #wendy x dipper #gravity falls #scifi #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #fanfiction #fanart #alien #robot #ghost #wendipweek #sorry this is so late I just drew the picture today lol

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solarbird · 7 years ago

Text

Old Soldiers, Chapter 6: Terrifying in Flight (I Just Wish We Had a Sniper)

[AO3 link]

"Letting us take the first shot, then?" Gabriel Reyes asked Venom, eyeing the new intel sent along on sideband. "We got Sombra's location reports - thank you."

The Talon assassin nodded. "Yeh. I..." she frowned. "Gabe, luv, I'm gonna get this out there. I voted no. But I lost, so I'll go along."

"I appreciate that." Reyes gave Oxton a considering look. "You sure, though? The way you stormed out..."

The assassin nodded. "I've got my reasons, and I've made my promises - to Amélie - and I keep 'em." Just ask G/C Henderson, she thought, Oh wait, you can't, he's dead. The memory made her smile, just a little. Small but lasting comforts.

"Glad to hear it. Thank you," replied the tactical advisor. Promises to the Widowmaker? That'd do it. "We collectively - all of us at Overwatch, Tracer possibly excepted - want to bring him to justice, intact. Not just have him disappear again."

Lena "Venom" Oxton snorted, a little. "Might be right about Tracer. But for us - well, it's better than nothing."

Reyes breathed out. Good. "I'm putting together some plans, based upon your intel - and ours." He brought his right hand to his chin, thoughtfully. "I just wish we had a sniper. Closest we've got is Mei, and she's good with that ice pistol of hers, but it's not the same thing."

Venom thought about the problem, and a solution. Would Amélie be okay with it? Yes, she thought so. With the right conditions attached. Maybe even... proud. Let's float it. "You might. Have a sniper, I mean."

Gabriel tilted his head and stared into the screen. "...Amélie's suddenly willing to work with me?"

"No," Venom said. "But I am."

"Since when are you a sniper?"

Another snort. "C'mon, mate, how long have I been with the world's best sniper? Like I've told Winston - she teaches me her tricks."

"I can't see how you have the patience for it. How good are you?"

"I'm good, mate. Not Amélie good, but... good. Very good."

Gabe looked dubiously at her, through the screen. "How very good?"

Venom thought about it. "I keep a list of better snipers than me, right? Amélie's on top, of course; Zhanna Orlov's below her, Shimada Hanzo a few steps down, all that."

She's good enough to keep that list? he thought. But aloud, he kept it to, "Sure."

"Everyone on that list keeps a list like it. Amélie's still on top, but theirs has a question mark, down... maybe below number ten? But on the list."

"And that's you?"

Venom smiled. "Can't confirm that, luv. But."

"You willing to demonstrate that at the embassy?"

"Maybe. There's conditions." She looked thoughtful, glancing down to the side. "I have to check with Amélie. She might veto this."

"Why?"

"Reasons."

Gabriel nodded. Talon secret tech, or something like it. Fair enough. "Let me know. It sure would be nice to have a sniper available."

"Aye aye."

-----

Two days later, Tracer appeared on the balcony outside Winston's office, in the usual tangerine and white. She waved towards the glass door, and Winston started to let her in, then stopped, blinked, and stepped back.

"Honest, luv, it's me," came her voice through the door speaker. "Horizon Angle Delta Vector Seventeen Nine Seven Nine Banana Clown."

"Pictograph?"

"Waves."

The gorilla opened the door, still wary, and Lena Oxton stepped inside out of the sunlight. In the office, she looked less blue around the edges, thanks to the warm lighting overhead, but the tint was still there, and her goggles had a fleet of extra red eyes, in mobile plates, along the sides and top. "I wanted to arrive dressed as Tracer, so's nobody'd notice, but..." She pressed buttons on her grapple, now equipped with familiar and frightening extras, and her suit changed to black and green. "Mockingbird reporting for sniper duty."

"Lena, what did you do?!"

She smiled in a broad way, most unlike her spider, and most like herself. It helped, a little. "Nothin' permanent. I swear. This is just what I look like when I'm a sniper."

Gabriel and Angela came up the stairs to the ambassador's office, and froze in their tracks at Winston and Lena. Angela shrieked a little, and Gabriel shuddered. "That... that is... deeply disturbing. Lena, are you still you?" asked the doctor.

Gold-tinted eyes - regular brown still visible underneath, if you looked closely - darted to Dr. Ziegler. "Guess I shoulda warned ya, huh? Yeh, it's still me in here." Her voice was the slightest bit slower and lower than usual, but clearly still hers.

"What have you done to yourself?!" Angela leaned forward, and Mockingbird stepped fluidly back, with an ah-ah-ah finger motion. "Sorry, doc, no scans. That's the rule if I'm gonna be here like this."

"I wasn't going to. Is it, is it..."

"Permanent? Nah. Nothin' to it, really. Some drugs, some other tricks."

That's a lie, thought the doctor. "Why?!"

"All the sniper traits. Night distance vision. Stability, in motion. Patience - well, for me, anyway. Stillness, too - I can stop my heart for three minutes in this mode and be just fine. But I keep my twitch reflex, and the energy I store up is barmy! I won't need to eat for four days. Which is good," she joked, "'cause don't ask me to read a menu in the dark right now."

Gabriel shook his head back and forth. "Your whole organisation is not right in the brain."

Mockingbird laughed, a very Tracer-like laugh, and that, too, helped. "When we're on the range, I'm gonna be even scarier. I'll ramp down my emotions s'more and turn the spider all the way up." She brought up her vizor's extensions, and her goggles' primary field went dark red.

Winston reached out to her, without words, and she took his hand. "Or maybe I won't." She reset the vizor to standard mode. "Didn't think you'd be this fruck out, big guy. It's okay, honest."

"You weren't here when Amélie killed Gérard, you don't..." He felt her hand. "You're cool to the touch," he said, quietly.

"Not that cool. Just enough to avoid bein' picked up on infrared. Won't fool the best models, but it helps."

"Please say you aren't turning into Amélie. I... I don't want you turning into Amélie."

Mockingbird snickered, saying, "Well, they do say married couples start to look alike," and activated the vizor again.

"Lena, no! Be serious! I don't want to lose you."

She smiled, waved the magnifiers away, and held her friend's hand against her face. "Aw, luv, no. I like who I am. This is fun, but not... as fun. It'll all go away later. But right now, you need a sniper." She lowered his hand, and patted his shoulder. "I can shed most of this in about an hour, if I really need to."

"That's all it takes?" asked the Swiss doctor.

"For me? Yeh, in an emergency. I can throw 'bout half of it off in under a minute, if I really gotta - but it hurts like the dickens."

Gabriel shook his head. Crazy people, Talon - all of 'em. "Where's your rifle?"

Mockingbird, it seemed, had Lena Oxton's famous half-grin, and she flashed it, and flipped her pistols. "Right here." She popped them together, they locked, and the barrel extended. From a pouch, she pulled out a surprisingly conventional-looking scope, which snapped right on top. "But: ground rules. One: no scans. Sorry, doc. Two: I'm not Tracer, I'm Mockingbird. Stick to it, I mean it. No "Lena," no "Tracer," not outside this office. Three: nobody, and I mean nobody, touches my tech but me. Anyone does, I walk away completely, and for good. No more Mockingbird, and" - she said this slowly, and clearly - "no. more. Tracer. either."

She waited a moment to make sure all that had sunk in. "These are the terms. Otherwise, I leave now, no harm done, and Tracer comes back tomorrow wondering if she missed anything. Agreed?"

"Le... Mockingbird, this cannot be good for you," said Angela. "I promise, just a circulatory..."

"No," the sniper said firmly. "None."

The doctor sighed. "You are not the only one here who experiments with her body in extreme ways. You are stressing it more than I think you know. I want to help."

"We do this before breakfast, luv. But, y'know, if you ever want to switch teams, you could do all the scans you..."

"I don't think so," the doctor interrupted. "But how am I going to know how to treat you in the field, if necessary?"

Mockingbird tipped her head, and smiled. "I'll give you this." She held up a small memory card. "Complete treatment protocols for anything that has to happen faster than a Talon extraction team can reach me. You can have it once everything's settled."

"I insist that I be allowed to practice these protocols. At least the physicality of them. In battle," she did not really have to say, "it matters."

"Ah, yeah! As long as your nanos aren't taking samples, that's fine."

"And may I please, at least, examine you later? When this is over? To be sure you've handled this well? Your own doctors may want that data."

Mockingbird thought about it. The compassion was genuine, she was pretty sure, but so was the desperate curiosity to know how all this worked. There would be things for her to find, later, but little she wouldn't've had a chance to see before, and she'd be looking in all the wrong places... good enough, she decided. "They'll already have it, but - deal."

"Thank you." The doctor looked a little bit relieved, if still more than a little concerned. "I accept."

"Winston? How 'bout it?"

"Gabriel, are you willing to work under these conditions?"

The former Blackwatch head nodded. "I've worked under way worse than this. I'm good. Uh, I... accept the terms?"

"Oh, right," said the assassin, "This has to be for the whole organisation." She switched to Tracer colours, and said, "On behalf of Overwatch, I, Lena "Tracer" Oxton, agree to the terms of Mockingbird's service," before switching back. "Sounds like a bloody software license, don't it? That just leaves you, Winston. And Mei, but she's not here yet."

"I don't like it," said the gorilla. "But... deal. No scans, no handling, no anything."

Mockingbird smiled. "Brilliant!" She tossed Angela the memory card. "Have fun with that. The rest of us - let's go shoot some wings off mosquitoes!"

-----

"You know, as a sniper, I'll be going for the head shot," Mockingbird said over Overwatch comms, launching herself high into the air with her grapple. They'd started at the indoor range, but she got bored with 50 metre shooting and started coming up with creative ways to undo target clips with bullets, and the army's outdoor range was much more interesting. Still carried by momentum on the way up, she twisted left, and took the head off the first target dummy.

"We've been over this," responded Gabriel, watching as she took the head off a second target on the way down, before even landing on her cliffside perch. "We want him alive." He took notes that started with 'Terrifying in flight.'

"And we want him dead," she retorted. "I want him dead. Don't get me wrong, Gabe, I'm here, I'm goin' along with your plan, but alive's not the sniper's job." From that upper perch, she hit three for four on moving ground targets. Two headshots, one ricochet shot that missed, a follow-up direct shot leaving a grazed neck. That last one would walk away, with medical aid. "Damn."

'Never really stops moving,' the new Overwatch tactics expert added to his notes. 'Highly mobile.' "We just want the tactical visor gone."

She spun around from her nest and ticked a faceplate off the sixth target dummy. "And that's a headshot."

"Tracer, just..."

"Tracer's not here, luv."

"Mockingbird."

"Hiya!" She triggered reload, and launched herself to the second perch. He noted she wasn't jinking at all, no teleports, no rewinds, just running, moving with the grapple, and nothing else. Still all about movement, though.

Bang, target down. "No additional shots after the visor's gone." He could almost feel her dirty look from the ground. Bang, another ricochet shot, target missed.

She landed, swore, and took a second shot on the second target, moving within her section's perch point for a direct shot, taking the dummy down. "Not even to save another agent?" She ran a strafe pattern against moving dummies, bang, bang, bang. Four for three, including a domino shot. All perfect.

Jesus, she's good, Gabriel thought. Maybe not Amari good, those ricochet shots aren't working, but... Aloud, he said, "Except to save another agent."

"Short day for me, then." Another reload, and she launched herself into the air, diving to the final shooting perch. Gabriel surprised her with three airborne targets. Bang, down, bang, down, bang, bang, down. "Seems a shame if I have to get all gussied up." She landed and rolled to the third sighting point.

"A short day would be very, very good indeed."

Three fast targets, running along the ground, zagging, all with faceplates - the most human of them all. Three shots, three faceplates off, all targets down. "My way would be even shorter."

"Mockingbird. Please. I know what you are. Don't make it harder."

Lena Oxton breathed in, carefully. She wondered, occasionally, how long she could make this Talon-Overwatch joint arrangement last, and this was one of those times. It's for the best, she reminded herself. If, occasionally, a right pain in the arse. "Sorry, Gabe. I'm workin' so hard to remind everyone it's me in here, maybe I overdid it a bit. Is that it for the first round?"

"Yeah, that's the first set. What'd you think?"

"I liked the surprise skeet, that was fun! But I was sloppy. I can do better, if I drop the banter. And nothin' returned fire!"

"This is a target range, not a combat simulator, what'd you expect?"

"Might fix that."

"If we had the money. You're supposed to know that."

"Maybe Tracer's supposed to know that - I'm not."

Right, he thought. "Mockingbird, secure weapon, and return to start. We'll reset the range for another round."

"Gotcha!"

#venom #tracer #widowtracer #tracemaker #tracermaker #winston #gabriel reyes #reaper #angela ziegler #mercy #overwatch #overwatch au #also on ao3 #mockingbird

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