#okay now lets just stick her in armor 24/7 so nobody can even see any of this anyway

[codylabs]

Chapter 30: Warpath

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 27 28 29

Wendy stood in the middle of the forest, looking at a particular tree trunk upon which she remembered spray painting: DANGER, KILLER ROBOTS BEYOND THIS POINT.

She pulled out the tape on her time machine. A week and a half backward ought to do it.

The world dematerialized around her in a flash of blue light. It reconstituted itself in a week and a half less than no time at all, and she found herself standing in the exact same place. Only small cues; the shift of clouds in the sky, the change in wind direction, and the lack of any warning painted on the tree, gave any indication that she’d warped at all.

But here she was.

Before.

Before that fateful Saturday when they’d taken the saucer. Before the Friday when Dipper had taken her to Crash Site Omega. Before the Thursday when Juan’s mom had attacked the Mystery Shack. Before the Wednesday when they’d discovered the Forest of Daggers. Before the Tuesday when they met the lion. Before the Monday when Dipper first came to her house. In fact, this was before the Sunday when the twins first arrived in Gravity Falls.

This.

This was the Friday when Wendy first found Juan. In fact, judging by the angle of the sun, this was the morning before she’d even done that.

This was before any of it.

She briefly consulted a map for the location of her target, and started walking into the trees.

She saw nothing on her journey. Nothing but the metal trees whose branches and jagged leaves casually scratched at her as she walked past. Nothing but the little robot pentapus-monkeys chattering high in the branches. Nothing but the nuts and sticks they spitefully threw at her as she walked past. Nothing but the uneven ground and strange sharp smells and the coldly shining mirror-flowers budding by a stream. Nothing but nature. Alien nature, alternative nature, dangerous and spiky nature, yet still beautiful and peaceful in its own way.

She moved quiet, and quick, and consulted the map frequently, and managed to dodge past the more treacherous obstacles they’d encountered on previous visits. Fortunately, she didn’t run into any large predators.

Finally she broke through the edge of a small circular clearing, and stood looking at a crooked, dome-shaped rise in the forest floor, a little bigger than your everyday fighter jet.

This was the place.

If I destroy Betty and Barney’s UFO and the power control coupling now, then we’ll never reactivate the reactor in the main wreck. Thus never destroying the Forest of Daggers, attracting the attention of the Mother Shifter, or having to deal with any of this awful crap…

It’s the only way to be safe.

She thumbed a button on the plasma beam, and its pilot flame flashed to light. The overheat timer began to tick, and the weapon began to emit a low whine.

She stepped onto the top of the UFO, aimed the beam downward at where she remembered the airlock being, and gripped the handles tightly.

Wham.

When her ears stopped ringing and the billowing smoke cleared a little, she saw that the hatch was still intact, even if the underbrush had been burned away a little. So she fired again. This time the glass crinkled and cracked slightly, and a gap opened just a couple millimeters around the perimeter. The air was beginning to ripple in the heat, and it singed the hair on her arms.

Great! It’s loose! Now I can probably get it open…

SNAP.

Wendy froze at the sound.

And turned around.

Not thirty feet away, there stood an enormous robot lion. Looked to be of the male variety, judging by the lack of teets along its flanks (well, they’re ‘recharging ports’ on robots, but same difference, right?) Its eyes were small and bright and red, and its claws were long and curved and razor sharp. Wendy couldn’t tell if it was one of the same ones they fought (would fight?) in a week and a half, but it was quite an impressive specimen anyway.

But strangely, unlike all the others they’d ever seen, it wasn’t attacking. Its mane of antennae were fanned out and scanning, as an Earthly creature would sniff, but it didn’t look mad or aggressive or territorial, it just looked curious.

Wendy spread her feet and took a ready stance, pointing the beam at its head.

Hey, waitaminute. She realized. The robot lions are the whole reason Dipper and I discovered this forest. They’re the only things here that are immediately dangerous to outsiders, and the only ones that have ever ventured beyond the ordinary grounds.

If I exterminate all you jerks now…

That would undo not ONLY any encounter with the shifter, but ALSO our entire adventure. We would have never even know of this place. Never even suspected. There would have been no danger, nobody would ever have been hurt, and Dipper would never even have had the slightest chance of dying.

And since I have the tape on ‘stable’ mode, that means that past-me won’t have any memories of how I changed things! I’ll be able to… Move on. Forget about murder, and not have to deal with the guilt of all the things I never did…

It’ll all be okay.

Wendy squeezed the trigger.

Wham.

The lion spasmed violently and tried to leap sideways or escape, but the front half of its brain had already been melted to slag, eliminating its ability to reason or think. Like a headless chicken it staggered and lurched, then keeled over and collapsing on the forest floor after only a few seconds, twitching and struggling, already dead, as oily blood poured from the incandescent wound.

Wendy saw movement in her peripheral vision. She spun left to see a second lion, this one female, emerge from her hiding spot in the trees. But this one didn’t attack either; instead, she fled. The motors in her joints and treads whirred with exertion as she set off through the trees to the West, away from Wendy and her dead mate.

Wendy fired another beam after her, but it went wide, and by that point she was out of range.

So the chase was on.

The plasma beam wasn’t the easiest thing to carry while running. Since the shoulder strap and top-handle made it hang like a weed-eater or a chainsaw at her hip, it was always rubbing around and bumping against her legs. Wendy held it up close to her chest to be more comfortable.

In spite of the focus this situation ought to demand, Wendy’s mind began to wander. Well… This is it. She mused to herself. After today… The entire adventure never will have happened.

Ahead of her, the lioness leapt up over a massive fallen log. As Wendy approached the same point, she vaulted off a lower log onto the higher one, then slid down the other side. A razor bush gouged into her leg near the bottom, but she shook it off and limped on, ignoring the pain.

The time Dipper and I went out to capture a robot by setting a decoy and hiding up a tree. Wendy recalled. We had no clue how gigantic these things were, and brought nothing but a tiny little werewolf net to catch it. We made it out alive by the skin of our teeth, and had a good laugh… But if I do this, we never would’ve gotten to do that.

The lioness ducked through a hollow beneath another log, and Wendy followed without missing a beat. A drilling worm rumbled in annoyance as she passed its underground lair.

That night in the hospital. When Dipper and I promised to solve this mystery, and prevent anyone else from being hurt… Then we fell asleep in the hospital lobby, both wearing full armor… Then in the morning he took me to Crash Site Omega, and we told each other all our secrets… If I do this, we never would’ve shared all that.

The lioness was a creature designed to catch prey using short, powerful sprints. It didn’t have the stamina for long distance running, and Wendy was steadily catching up.

That time Dipper and I were trapped underground, and swarms upon swarms of robot bugs were trying to eat us… Dipper panicked, but I calmed him down long enough for him to fire off the magnet gun and save us… Then he asked for a hug, so I hugged him. If I do this, he might never have conquered his fear. And I might never have hugged him.

The lioness stopped ahead of her, then suddenly ducked down and disappeared out of sight into the ground. When Wendy reached the same place, she saw the open mouth of a wide sort of tunnel, sloping down into the ground. She jumped down into the darkness without hesitation, thumbing on a headlamp on as she did.

That time the ghosts of Betty and Barney asked us to bring peace and finality to their own uncompleted life’s work… We promised we would avenge their deaths by bringing an end to the shapeshifting monster that killed so many… And we promised to make the most of their legacy. We allowed their restless souls to find their peace, and if I do this… We never would have even KNOWN…

The tunnel snaked on deeper into the Earth, branching off here and there, something like a fox’s burrow. No sign of the lion yet.

That flight aboard the flying saucer. It seemed like we were gonna die, but then Dipper DID die. And I fought my way through time and space and fate to save him, and I pushed through sickness and torture and fear and exhaustion until I punched into the heart of an omnipotent enemy, and I brought him back… And by the end I knew beyond a doubt that it would all be alright, and… And… And I knew no matter what came next that I just wanted to have him by my side, for better or for worse, until the end of time… And then… And then he asked me on a date…

Wendy’s steps faltered.

And…

She slowed down.

If I do this…

She stopped.

None of that would have happened.

Her finger eased off the trigger of the gun.

No…

It’s right…

She reached under her helmet and rubbed the tears from her eyes.

It was right. This is wrong.

This is wrong… I shouldn’t do this. I… I should just forget it. Just go back home and get ready for that date… Let the past stay in the past, return to the present, and make the most of the future… It’s time to leave the Forest of Daggers for the last time.

Clump, clump, clump… The sound of heavy, treaded footfalls.

Whirr… The sound of gears rumbling smoothly inside metallic joints.

Crinkle, clink… The sound of antennae brushing against the walls of the tunnel.

Shreeeee… The sound of saws spinning up to speed.

And Wendy found herself in the lion’s den, surrounded on all sides.

“Okay, well, I think we’ve made enough progress for today…” Ford stepped out of McGucket’s stuffy lab to find his great niece waiting in the Mansion’s foyer, arms folded over a banister. “Ah, there you are. Where’s Mason?” He asked. “I’ve got a few questions for him about the mechanical ecology…”

“Oh, he uh…” Mabel scratched her head. “He told me to tell you he’s off ghost hunting.”

“Hmm… Except I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any ghost-hunting supplies on him…” Ford put his hands on his hips. “So what’s he really doing?”

“Oh, uh… I don’t know…” Mabel shrugged. “Probably just being hopelessly in love and incredibly paranoid at the same time…”

“Ah yes, well, what else is new?” Ford scoffed.

“I tried to catch up with him, but he was pretty quick and… Oh, what the heck, he’ll be alright, won’t he?”

“Of course he will.”

“Yeah…” Mabel looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hey Great Uncle Ford?”

“What is it, my girl?”

“Have you ever talked to the Shapeshifter? I mean, since you came back from your 30 years out in ultra-space?”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘hyperspace’.” Ford smiled. “Although technically, it’s called the ‘multiverse’. ‘Hyperspace’ is merely the multi-dimension-high-permeability looping medium used to traverse from reality to reality… Uh… Wait, I’m sorry, what was your original question?”

“The shapeshifter.”

“Oh yes. Right… Well, you kids locked the monster up safely last Summer, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Then I’m not worried, I trust you did it properly. And the cryogenic containment systems will hold for many years yet. We built them to last, you know.”

“That’s, like, the exact opposite of what I mean…” Mabel frowned. “I mean…”

“What?”

“Biscuit Brown. Carrot Costume.” Mabel said.

The color went out of Ford’s face and his voice got quiet. “…Where did you hear that?” He hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “When?”

“…The future…” Mabel shrugged. “Uh… Some stuff happened, and then we used a time machine to keep them from happening, and then future-you told us to tell you that, so… What does that mean?”

“Those…” Ford’s eyes began to dart around with a strange intensity. “Are short, alliterative, easy-to-remember mnemonics, which serve as two of my five secret code phrases, for use in the eventuality that I ever had to send a warning to myself backward through time… The code phrases are ranked ‘A’ through ‘E’, for different levels of severity. ‘Carrot Costume’ is ‘C’ severity, meaning that a future-me believes somebody’s life will be in jeopardy. ‘Biscuit Brown’ is a ‘B’ severity, a warning that a future-me believes somebody’s soul will be in jeopardy… Obviously, the codes are just a sort of validation, with the assumption that whoever delivered them could provide more details…”

“I didn’t understand anything of what you just said.” Mabel informed him.

“Okay, uh… Whose life is in danger, Mabel? And whose soul?”

“Uh… Er… I guess Dipper’s life.” She answered. “And the Shapeshifter’s soul.”

Ford considered this for a moment, then nodded grimly. “Follow me. And explain on the way exactly what I need to do.”

The nearest lion lunged, saws and hooks glittering in the light.

There was no time to get out the time machine, so instead Wendy fired the death ray.

As the light flashed from the weapon, it briefly illuminated the entire den. It was a small, low-ceilinged cavern, with a few branching tunnels to the sides, and a smaller hollow toward the back. Within the hollow, a large female lay on its side, with cubs latched to its recharge ports; must be a ‘nursery’ of some kind. Wendy herself was standing more toward the center of the den; the part cluttered with a mess of metal scraps and discarded bone-like scaffolds, from all the creatures and prey that had been brought here before. This must be the feeding area. Somewhat disquieting.

The light of the beam faded just as quickly, and the world returned to darkness. The lion that had been charging Wendy slumped over dead, from the hole burned up through the roof of its mouth.

By that time the next one was attacking, and Wendy had to dive out of the way. She dropped her headlamp in the roll, and as she came up, she fired at the first thing she saw.

Another lion, this one another male, took the blast in the side. Its antenna flared in pain as the hole began to spark and bleed, but it didn’t seem to be a fatal injury. Must have missed its crucial components.

Wendy spun, aimed, and squeezed again, expecting another ‘WHAM’.

But instead, all she got was a ‘click’. And a little red blinking light on top of the weapon. And a little backlit screen flashing ‘OVERHEAT WARNING!’.

Crap.

Crap!

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!

Stupid piece of JUNK!

Wendy reached into her pocket for the time machine; at this point, it was her only escape route. But before she could pull the tape, a claw swipe from another lion took her directly in the chest. The worst of it was stopped by her armor, but it knocked the wind out of her and she found herself on her back, with the burning hot weapon on top of her. As she hurriedly pushed it off, she realized she’d dropped the time machine somewhere in the darkness.

Crap!

But before the day could end, with either a victory or an unceremonious shredding, the fight took a different turn entirely.

A shape leapt out of the darkness.

Not a robotic shape though, not a scary shape, not a big, strong, mighty shape. This was a small and scrawny shape, which landed on the back of the nearest lion. The creature began to rear up at the invasion to its personal space, but then a flash of light erupted above it. The air fizzled with the sound of arcing electricity, and the lion collapsed, eyes darkened.

That was a magnet gun pulse. Wendy blinked. I didn’t bring a magnet gun.

The small shape leapt again. There was another pulse, and another lion collapsed. The others took a step back.

And Wendy found herself looking up at the short silhouette standing over her. And she saw a small hand, a human hand, reach down toward her to help her up. Judging by a few scratches on the hand and rough tears in the shirt, he’d come all the way here with only partial armor. And judging by how heavily he was breathing, he’d ran most of the way.

Their eyes met, and she just stared for a few seconds, feeling confused and relieved and guilty and sweaty all at the same time.

“Hi Wendy.”

“…Hey… Hey dude.”

She took his hand.

He pulled her to her feet, pressed a second magnet gun into her grasp, and turned around. She tossed aside the plasma beam as she turned around too. They found themselves back to back, weapons raised and ready, as the creatures circled in closer. Aiming was almost unnecessary at this range, but she took a deep breath to steady her hands anyway. Behind her, she heard Dipper stutter.

“S-so what’s the plan here? Kill them all?”

“No… No, I mean, it was, but… I was wrong… Dipper, I’m sorry.”

“What’s the plan?” He repeated more urgently.

“…Just to get out alive.”

“Good plan.”

They fired, they aimed, they fired, they aimed again. The lights flashed, the electricity crackled, and two by two the creatures collapsed.

In another reality that never happened, this same boy had immobilized one of these creatures with nothing but an axe and some luck. In that same reality, this same girl had taken on a time-traveling shapeshifter with the same weapons, and emerged with similar results.

Now that both of them were working together, adequately armed and prepared, neutralizing an entire clan of murderous machines was… Trivially easy.

In less than a minute, they found themselves standing in the middle of a crowd of almost a dozen dead or unconscious beasts. The magnet gun was warm in Wendy’s hands, and its charge meter was down below halfway. Dipper passed her a spare pack of batteries.

Both their eyes landed on the last robot that remained standing; the medium-large female that had been suckling the young. This one had seen the fate of its brethren, and was at least smart enough to fear. Instead of attacking, it picked one of the juveniles off the floor with its hooks, and turned to escape up the nearest tunnel.

Wendy leveled her gun and almost shot her backside, but then thought better of the action, and worse of herself for considering it.

The noise of its scampering footfalls faded into the distance, and the burrow was once again silent.

Wendy could hear her heart beating. Heck, she thought she could hear his heart beating. She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair, racking her brain to try to figure out how to begin to explain all this. He needs to know. I need to tell him. But how do I do that? How do I even start…?

“…T-thanks.” She finally managed instead. “The… That stupid gun overheated.”

“Yeah…” He gasped for breath. “It’s… Uh… Uh, it’s hardcoded with a 3-minute cooldown period between volleys…” He fished a fat little pamphlet out of his vest, and tossed it to her. “You left the instruction manual back at McGucket’s and I kinda read it on the way. Uh… Yeah.”

“3 minutes, huh?”

“Sucks, right?”

“Yeah… I guess the rest of these guys will probably reboot before it’s done.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Do you want to set up an ambush at the top of the tunnel?”

“No… No, it’s fine, it’s all fine… Let’s just go…”

“Well… You were right in the middle of blowing everything up! I mean… We still could, i-i-it would just be a little strategy…”

“No…” She picked the death ray off the ground, slung it around her shoulder, then located the time machine and stuffed it in her pocket. “No, I… I was wrong.” She said. “Let’s just… Just get the heck out of here…”

He nodded, and made to leave. She started to follow him, but came up short when he suddenly stopped, and turned back around to face her. She met his eye. “…Aren’t you curious if I’m a shapeshifter?” His voice had an edge to it.

She blinked.

Well, he had the instruction manual, and had a few red scratches, and was acting just like he always does… And heck, he’d just saved her life, when anyone else, even any human, doubtlessly would have hesitated. Of course he was the real Dipper… Wasn’t he?

But the thought had occurred to her. I mean, come on! It doesn’t make any sense for Dipper to be here and now! How did he get here? How did he know I’d be here? How is he last week right now? What if he saved my life just to earn my trust? What if… What if, what if… She racked her brain, knowing that any lapse in paranoia, any smallest mistake, any trust at all, could be fatally dangerous. She felt her hand subconsciously moving toward her axe.

But…

But he never tried to prove himself. He never said his name, or gave proof, or made a big show of being Dipper, or grilled me for info… He just reminded me to be more careful. Which means he’s just as smart and paranoid as he should be… But he’s innocent. “Uh… If you’re really you…” Even as she spoke, she wished she hadn’t, for she knew he was really him. “Then you remember how to tell me…”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Uh… My real name is Mason Ferdinand Pines…” He made the sign of zipping and locking his lips.

“I know.” She sighed.

“I… Uh… I got a week and a half ago by promising to leave a time machine in a rotten stump the next time I got one…” He pulled a tape measure out of his pocket for her to inspect. It was the exact same one as hers. “And when I looked in the stump, this one was in there… So the way I reason it out, I guess I’ll convince you to leave yours there, huh…?”

“Good time-thinking…”

“Okay, well, I mean, if you don’t believe I’m human, there’s lots of sharp things around here. I can… Bleed red or…”

“No.” Wendy waved a hand in apology. “No. No, no man, it’s fine… I’m sorry. You’re you, I’m just… I… Sorry. I guess it’s all gone to my head-”

“No.” He decided out loud. “No, I’m gonna bleed!” He walked over to the wall of the tunnel, where a small tuft of razor-grass was growing. “Because I need you to know it’s really me!”

“Wait, dude, no it’s fine-!”

He closed his left fist around the grass, and gritted his teeth before pulling.

“Dude, please!” She reached out to stop him.

Blood flowed from a gash in his palm. Red blood, whose stark color almost seemed to glow under the glare of his flashlight.

He spun back toward her, and pointed a bloody finger to his chest. “I’M the real Dipper!” His voice cracked despite its sternness, though she couldn’t tell if it was from pain or anger or being on the verge of tears. “I AM!” He repeated, with a panicked squeal. “I don’t know why you would think I’m a shapeshifter, but if you needed your own dad to bleed before you’d believe him, then I’m not taking the chance! You’ve got to KNOW for good and real that I’m ME! And I am! SEE! LOOK! I AM!” He held up his red palm. Red blood. Human blood. Dipper’s blood.

Wendy had seen him this angry only rarely. It was never a pretty sight, but it was always directed at someone else. Stan or Robbie most often, Mabel or Soos once or twice, and of course at the bad guys, abominations like Bill which deserved every ounce.

But he’d never been angry at her; not like this. And it hurt. She closed her eyes to keep back tears.

“I’m your friend!” He continued, borderline hysterical. “I look out for you! I care about you! I followed you across town in the back of your dad’s truck, across the forest on foot, HECK, I even followed you backward in time and right into the lions’ den, all because I was WORRIED about you! I walked miles for you! I bled for you! I fought for you! I’ll do anything for you! I’ll ALWAYS be there for you…! Why don’t you trust me…?”

“I…” Wendy willed herself to speak. “I do trust you…! I… I respect you more than anyone, I-”

“Well then why stand me up? When I asked for a date, you said ‘yes’! Why didn’t you say ‘no’ if you meant ‘no’?”

“Wait! No! That was never-”

“Look, I get it! I mean that, I get it! I’m too young for you, and too short, and I always kind of knew it, so it’s no big deal… I… No… No it IS A BIG DEAL! It HURTS, Wendy! I fell head over heels for you AGAIN and I actually DID honestly believe you liked me, and then you led me on, and now…! But! But it hurts even more that you don’t trust me! Why not tell me you had a time machine this whole entire time? Why didn’t you bring me along when you decided to retro-proactively exterminate an entire race? What does Mable know that I don’t? Why does she know? Why is she acting weird? Why will nobody tell me what happened?!?”

“I didn’t think!” She told him. Her sight was getting blurry. “…I’m sorry! Dipper, I’m sorry! But would you just let me TALK?!?”

Just as fast as it appeared, his temper burned itself out. He fell silent, and gave a small nod.

“I’m sorry.” She repeated. “What happened…” She willed herself to speak. “What happened is you died.”

Dipper choked back tears, and shook his head. His eyes fell. “So it’s true.”

Wendy found herself crying too. In her peripheral vision, one of the unconscious lions began to twitch. “L-let’s go.” She repeated, and shrugged toward the tunnel.

He nodded timidly, and turned to lead the way.

This was the first time he’d seen Wendy… Weak. He’d seen her cry once when she was really mad, and he’d seen her lose fights and tempers from time to time, but this was different. This was her breaking down on the inside, melting and collapsing. This was her filled with guilt and confusion and pain to the point where he, wimpy little Dipper, could break her, with nothing but the force of his words. But Wendy’s never weak… What happened? Did I do that? How did I do that? Why did I do that? I didn’t mean to…

They made it back up into the glaring sun within a minute, then spent another minute walking in a random direction, just to find a safe place to rest. Before long, they happened upon a hollow metal log lying in a ditch where a great tree must once have stood. As they ducked inside, they were reminded of the very first time they’d visited the Forest of Daggers; they’d stopped for lunch inside a log much like this one.

This log was a little smaller than that one though. Between the rusty walls, a mossy tangle, and Wendy’s butt, there was barely room for his own butt. Kinda cozy, kinda prickly, and all the bad kinds of awkward.

Wendy cast one last look across the landscape beyond the log. When she was sure they hadn’t been followed, she fished out a water bottle, and told him to hold out his hand. He did, and she washed his wound, then bound it as tightly and well as she could with a bandage-sized strip she tore from her shirt. It would hold until they got back to civilization.

But they didn’t feel like walking. They barely even felt like talking. So they just leaned back against the log’s curved wall, and sat there in dull and stunned silence, waiting for things to be okay again.

Forgiveness would be great. Healing would be great. Happiness and understanding and trust would all be great, If only they could find the words to say.

Without those words, the silence stretched on, and they were left listening to the distant sounds of nature: the metallic hammering of robot woodpeckers, the buzzing of strange robot birds, and the quiet clicking and scuffling of big black robot bugs that creeped and crawled through the wood around them.

All was peaceful.

Finally Wendy couldn’t stand it anymore, and decided she had to say something.

“My middle name is Blerble!” She cried. “And I’m sorry!”

“I know that, and I’m sorry too!” Dipper blurted. “I didn’t mean any of that! I know you’re still my best friend and stuff!”

“I’m sorry!” Wendy said. “I am SO, SO, SO sorry! I didn’t think, and I was scared, and I didn’t know how to tell you, and I committed murder after she raped my brain and it was terrible, and do you want to hear the story?”

Dipper swallowed, and wiped away his tears, and nodded. “Y-y-yes. Yes please.”

The words came easier from there.

“Mabel, you stay here.” Ford adjusted a few weapons in his belt as he prepared to enter the airlock.

“Why?”

He passed her a ray gun. “To make sure it’s me that comes back out. Keep an eye on the security cameras and the cryogenics controls, notify me of any and all malfunctions… That sort of thing. Keep your walkie-talkie on.”

“Okay.”

“Stanley, you say with her.” Ford looked at his brother.

“What, hey…?” Stanley twirled a baseball bat. It had a multitude of nails pounded through it, so that it looked more like a mace than any type of bat. “Why’d ya bring me along if you weren’t gonna bring me all the way?”

“Just as insurance…” Ford looked at the airlock, and nervously drummed his fingers against his legs. “This is… This is an old mistake, but it’s my mistake… And… And I think it’d be better if I went in alone.”

“Aww, c’mon poindexter! I can help! Everyone needs a wingman, right?”

“…Stanley… Suppose…” Ford chewed his lips, searching for an easier metaphor. “Okay, imagine for a moment that you had a chance to talk to Carla McCorckle again… A chance to make things right with her, maybe apologize… Would you want me there, or would you want your privacy?”

“Wait, you have an ex-girlfriend frozen down here?” Stanley listened to the wrong half of the metaphor. “Bros don’t let bros do that, bro. This just became an intervention.”

“What? No! …But… But I hear the monster is quite a lot worse than I ever would have imagined… And moreover I hear it might be a real person, a…” He glanced at Mabel. “A living… Feeling soul… And I reason… I reason that it might be my fault that… So I’d like a chance to finally, honestly talk…”

“That sure sounds a loooot like an ex-girlfriend.”

“STOP, Stanley…!” Ford snapped. “It’s not a ‘she’… Or… Or an ‘it’… He’s a ‘he’… And… And everything that happened to him was my fault… Just… Just wait out here until this is done, alright?”

“…Okay.”

“-and then we sort of all said goodbye, Ford gave us some time-code-phrases, and Mabel and I time-jumped back… Anyway, yeah. You know the rest.” Wendy shrugged. “…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just…” She barely even knew what the excuse was herself. “I honestly thought that if I could undo everything real fast, get in and out, sweep everything under the rug… I guess I just thought it would be best. We’d be able to start over at the beginning of a new week with no memory. You’d be alive, we’d both be happy, and safe, and… And you wouldn’t have a date with a murderer.”

Dipper twitched nervously, and mulled over that for a few seconds. “Stop saying ‘murder’.” He finally said. “It’s not murder.”

“But it is though…”

“But it isn’t! She tried to kill you first! And when somebody tries to kill you, you just kill ‘em right back! …Look, nobody blames you for what you did. I know it really sucked and everything, but as far as anybody else can see, you’re not a murderer, you’re a hero!”

“Then you’re all wrong!” Wendy insisted. “I didn’t have to kill her! And even if I did have to, I didn’t have to mash her to death over and over and then leave her to bleed out, I coulda… I… I just…” Wendy looked down at her own two hands, and remembering them as they had been: bruised and broken in the cold wet darkness, covered in blood. “You don’t know how it was!”

“W-w-w-well, I know you did something hard!” Dipper insisted. “I know you did something extremely hard, to someone or something that deserved it more than anyone, and for all the right reasons! And it’s not because you’re evil or violent; soldiers and cops and cowboys have been killing and getting killed since the dawn of time, and will until the end of time, because sometimes that’s what it means to take a stand! You did it because you’re tough, and when it needed to be done, you did it, and… You…” His voice got quiet. “…You’re a warrior, Wendy. And the toughest, coolest, most… Most strong person I’ve ever even heard of… And if I were in your place, if… If you’d died, I only wish that I would have the guts to do the same.”

She shook her head. “Don’t wish that.”

“Wendy, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“It is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wendy, I don’t… Look, I think the only part that really matters is that you saved my life. And that’s, just… I don’t know what to say. Thanks.”

“Yeah… Yeah, hey, no biggie, right?” She shrugged. “I mean… I love you a lot. I mean…” Her voice seemed to suddenly skip a beat. “I-I-I mean we all love. You. W-w-we all respect you, and you mean a lot to all of us, and we really… Appreciate… Stuff. In you. And stuff. And I dunno, y’know, I bet Soos woulda done the same thing if he had the chance; Pterodactyl bros and all that… Same as Stan or Ford or Mabel or anybody… We all really… What are friends for, huh? And besides. You died defending me. So it’s literally the least I could do.”

“Thanks.”

“No biggie.”

“Seriously, thanks… It means more than I can say.”

“It’s no biggie, just like I been saying. Stop thanking me.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Thanks anyway.”

“Stoooooop.”

He was a knight.

A valiant, brave knight, clad in shining armor, with a thick oaken shield grasped in his left hand, and a long, pointed lance propped in his right, and a broadsword in its scabbard at his hip. The horse between his legs snorted and panted with exertion, as it galloped up the trail toward the mountain. There was a cave up there, the villagers had said; a cave where lurked a great, monstrous dragon; an evil worm clad in scales as tough as armor, and spewing a great, roaring fire from its lungs.

The knight had accepted their quest to slay it; to save the people and their livestock from its continued mongering, so that their farms could prosper, and families could sleep in peace. But more than that, his quest was personal: you see, during the beast’s last raid of the castle, it had ensnared the princess, (the knight’s betrothed,) and taken her with the rest of its spoils. He had to save her.

(Just to be clear, these were the olden days before they invented clichés, so the knight remained blissfully ignorant of how corny this all sounded.)

Not that it mattered really. No sooner had his horse rounded the final bend, but the Dragon swooped down from the cliffs directly above. Its claws were silent on the rocks, its wings quietly whipped through the air, and the first noise it made was the roaring of its flames. Thus, the brave knight had less than a second and a half of warning before his incineration, not even enough time to raise his shield.

The fair maiden greeted the dragon at the entrance to his lair. “You can’t win, you know.” She claimed once more. “My true love is a warrior of surpassing skill. He will come for me soon, and he will defeat you, and he will save me.”

“No…” The dragon muttered, as he opened his mouth and dropped the whole pile at the princess’s feet: a charred mound of horse flesh, tarnished iron, and the black and red shape of a man. “No, I’m afraid he already came… And he’s already gone…”

The princess gasped when she saw the shape, and put her hand over her mouth.

And then the dragon wondered why he’d done that. The knight had been a good man. His quest had been noble, honest, pure, done in love and not in hate… I’m the villain. The dragon realized. He was good, and I am evil. Sure the brave knight didn’t kill me, but one day somebody will… And then I’ll stand before God, without an excuse or a plea…

When did I become who I am?

Why did I do the things I did?

Who am I?

And the dragon felt some kind of pain, from nowhere at all but also everywhere. It made him want to curl up on himself and hide his face, but instead he just pleaded “Forgive me!”

“You are who you choose to be.” The princess said.

And now the dragon felt something even stranger: there was a small drop of water, spilling from the corner of his eye. He felt it roll down his scales. He watched it drop from his chin to the floor; a tiny glittering orb hovering in the air for a moment before splattering on the floor, and it made the stones wet.

It had been the first teardrop he had ever shed.

And then, the Shapeshifter woke up.

It was only a dream.

A loud buzzing rang through the bunker, and he jumped, standing quickly to his feet. His eyes swung toward the sanitation airlock, the source of the buzzing. Gritty old florescent lights flickered on overhead, and a status light flashed. Somebody was entering the containment area.

The Shifter considered hiding in one of his tunnels, but thought better of it. Then he considered various large, capable forms he could take to combat whatever intruder this was, but for some reason he thought better of that too.

Before he could decide on a plan, the airlock’s inner door creak open. And standing in the gap was Stanford Pines.

The shifter stared at him.

He stared back.

“Shifty.” The old scientist said.

The shapeshifter hadn’t heard that nickname in a long time. For so long he’d just been ‘The Shapeshifter’ or ‘Experiment 210’, ‘The monster’, ‘the creature’, or any combination of those… But ‘Shifty’ on the other hand… ‘Shifty’ was a relic of his childhood… A childhood of confinement and impotency and stunted curiosity and unfulfilled longing for freedom. A childhood he’d hated. A childhood whose scar hurt worse than an axe in the chest.

Stanford Pines was an evil, despicable creature, and Shifty had to kill him.

“You…” He took a step toward his enemy. “You left me down here to rot…”

“Forgive me.” Ford pleaded.

For some reason, the shifter stopped.

And that was a strange moment indeed.

Hbx knpn gfl rup, yse xwsh mggne alzsfw clrh sur vvto. Szw osuij ehw jbavcoygk wjvi kncomyo hbv clldk. Zvy yklrv los yemtnwk ycui zz laxl, hbvt dtsds. Gbv npajv avy brlxgfz pyxoy tg ohwf. Jnp hwsyr nyk Qijka Aukk dcjwhacem zvwj avy zteejuva zfx pvwjfchv zz gwl ac wigdh kwhhm. Jnp sso avy jiteflpgnj szvw xvf mrlptq ebqb kuz sdgdzs.

Rto szw rbyn oe wsk mwhrrwy zswdyeoyg. Sl somk. Ge lgfn, ziem wakl, avy vbpn kg tohp epajk wfignpsawk kuj izmafn hi ggds. Kzl zchatfawk vyi hznwk hbx taclwv osljkwf afac nyk eiyzasmk hlld kos wfawd, tjhqcem sejklzz ku ehw llgn kame osszm noeh xdllcsrp, cmkowieoyg lwurlzrd.

Il zhdjvtpd.

Tq avy koxe kzl tcegwlq hbzfvj sejklzz kurelzlf uej ceyspbyu iznkupcojtpsk, aa kuj gwl gnlf.

Xvgo bgvpsm coetwjlr nyk wat. Los mtopnlazhm ygo add isye zsrgou hi ftp efv vt nyk coge dvyik ehwq sos noeh tjvyye hzdawz, ghrvaev flqej, icogclr nvteaudlg, uej dtads vyrxes. Sfk spvxj safnzy fzsej llgn jamjwua wh knp tmtlg uiufnv zlf qvxp dwsk hif; ge lwszh, ymkcylzpba knlt zsk piekd tg tysub. Yse zwygycl hak xpby knzuyz; cslp sfcz kooevt, lnv xlsfztr saur, pok yse’v kbfpzbpd. Kzl tycz sej wnu, uej tt osz whkgnt.

Lzlm brj dujnpjyu.

Yse xgyayu npr wfawlv hzdq auhi r ytnydl aojiwy, khywhx-rtkw dpav, sxlcwv ph uxgtnkl vby ngwl gx avy kame, kmtaieko add avy guhej sur mkxpnylo gbv nld, sfk hbvt caeelr bvxdedx mifc-lzruw pbnf zse ghwcmzzp wsds. O nztj cjsjy ugvpajwk. Gbv zzoc s tcgvte tg tysukn, ehwf kwx zz lgsau. Hbv icauc dwxvtpd. Kzl rcu oe ofw mwhrr eiew, avy xrlsk koonkkcev, sur nyky szw dom wxpe.

Jwhzfp, zcudq mfyv.

Uye gx avy jiteflpgnj oy tzw ycid clsf’l xickk oesv. Os ffuvev mw on ykc, cgmnvcem mlggk ohu hwifcpba zt sedhssmj jplajpig. “Y-n-sedh… Osfg sp…” Hw ehbuxko tg yhgj, nnpn zw zoq ykc sadocovzee klhbxztr onwy vcd.

Zse lats brj noew ac zlrqidd osl fgeh.

Sk zvy jzlbtwk vcd, yse klhfnvj sej uvihk. Uye.

Kzl plfqp iflv hbv uehwj aivvy, lnv sas mfsp ox los iknpr lwzh mlhueulz, ihkow szw dom wkplafn fyjzzrwv. Zvy ukdtjgfsx r lpw vjvbyj zsal zhr vvky smetchvj eo uguhuzt sej. Guqy knp wsq dom trpaj snoce, yse nwuhoiko oml ac yovwojw hbx vynahw hbx tuyqmwy.

Hbv ysih ohg u wkgej vysud uq ilk mcldkc swdm, o xvyaejsas, wygztau, ocjvrpsk wjvi fl qojyvhnvt rlgjf. Kucrd wwjl pyez lnv uycibko afv dolgko, slspbyu oy pdsjsm se mlska auiqd oj xsicu rpack. Avy roc slsuy iw hwogv, iileko pdszhcty, lnv ooonvbpr uzlactgw tzw ysjroc nsfvpiky hejw zswikeify pb ukzpmhl ac jrznh zgssm. Knp fdgvf qry nonwysx zt mrgclb acgds, lzpqe ry najhlh ce vwauwz, ohu oe cjauyfvj fnvwytifz. Plwuafctgw laflg mgkhev kwolby. Ehw ehzzltntaguwhx rtfw kbdjfxe czsvhctgwlq kowzkko tzw oigzjttq sur jikdsmjl. Qyizlif vvclj cprw olravj dhml, jslkgtn zsszqred cgdsojjko cgewzykkwy. Vwhr vfjtek olfy vbprqooslv. Jcofwz kuejprwv avy nxpccsns mcuhlq sur xlsmlq, dpyy kgykk jvzfztr tzjviay zse jmipfv uq a xsszye ittq, losci zcesvz gniargdauu zfx aujuoomv uq tzw ifctqd afv zquwlzlv.

Sur uj lzr zwy, gbv mlzwv bdie cttz yssy rto vayvf uej eramtdb, wuc szw zhifj ls lzl jctzzr. Lzl qbrsaigf. Avy jacvanvf.

Nykce owys u wkh olzlf mlxgingyg, nyufgz. Kvay fl ehwe dslv zcahhlr ce zseaj ycidy, doew dslv xzaeauu nyk saddz, gidk hejw aci ztuujwk hi duge. Kzl ryrre walo hbvs znw tf chv gd szw mcoej ehwe.

Aki. Kncew. Xvil. Jrzw ygpba, sae slwhrs.

Juxe gx avy fzsej kbfpzbzrk zhr zfayd wsjv iknpr, sfk xiztpd afac mdgwl yjvijj, yz tzsa hbve nomdk vumk doew jcgggyy sk avyp ylt kuhfyu oy tzw kolb. Csefwcsl jnp fgmur mlis a yjvij, jnp wgmsr ugvpaj sz chv uq tzwt, ohu oyfadafukk ehwe, ssuit qrge avyd zse dgjonzuys gx mciu, cltwj, hbx fzsej kbfpzbzrk, sur nyky kads hbvs lld, gus vp uye. Al dom xxpal xbb mvktny los yjillslpch fl ehway tyrx lnv hhfueuta sk avyp ywoodf zijz l gmwzgcem raew vt “qyu’d-tzw-twgzi”.

Ewwfam-nnu. Ewwfam-nyxpe. Lolbnp-lzuj… Kos qry siyzsm ywltcawuh.

Uwzpr s xlk xred ox lowm yaytafn, gbv hpgsf ac arzsej xvcx, ngeej, lvcfj gyd wibwjdkyt, sfk auuk l nwka tii nprkwst ce zse dgdsl ckgedk vt nyk dhah. Vbwv yse zsk hbrz, dhw ovifu uncskpchrrwy vjhu wyutcw kbfpzbzrk loslv. Oq afqicxp ypeewk hi gudswkz ohp yaeuahz mbowlk gy yhfcwevyl, gbv czudv jfotoqy lzla ie npr ossz, nfxeujw hbx yact lzla oeztl kzl’r yozcaullr ck. Gyd al hzqred wgjrsx. Flqiuwyg, mtopnlazhm, vtrifwlfm, vbpn zswzyjy aakklbavxd, esuo kuj g hesdav iw oyfgjtonzuy if zpg ii npr gou kup, gyd kzl zyrxyev ehbs nuydwjmif kntnyk.

Mwhrrwy, af h gniuve gx siwb, yse xgbbx knp hwsk gytacilq vtzzipr, sfk hiizfrwv owg wuc tzw kfiek noflycf tuoek. Guqy jnp hsv avyd, yse jwwfixxlmwv avy uxznwk pbnf stnvdlgm jrlvwk, hbx ztdtjmjhyu zsee lv ryjzcoq wcslpuye tma vyi. Gyygfl hbrz qedl msui, gyytgkm qzzs afq huaikdsanl qbvstcsd tolbkcs sl hzf, knpy owys nf kwieauonv. Hft kg schx gd szw zhupko csdt vyiyplx, loss nuflv anbiik sej fv aukzpr ozhh zfxx szw acib. Yse hjlgmvj ehw tbhnft lnv yhjy knp ojvlf, uej ehwq kwx.

Ftp hmfkfyu gyd kwcshke-yifw. Vby yaydjwk ohu ktgzlf. Gbv cltuzlr nyk naewyo zvkos xjva bvx yeo ksopvy, lnv fljyi rzsl uvihk.

Ywoodf ohu yeesvpzs, vtpmawz ohu jlnywyg xzylphwhfyu.

Bprq kvch euh, enwymvfjj edkl kilro bw vlox. Rrw tzw zqcvteiklz, ofc zse ujlk, ucr ehw hhgmvtrejk, ljyie wakl pbnvrwiywuh fzlpfgjt wh knts mfpjyiyp wzg ljyi izudv oopv zsrwsashvj sej gy vyi isidv, hzf fl ehwe nchv, cttzgbh u dkxojq vf u grpa.

Af ochfx zf lzl cwtgdigf, zvy rrwoowk vyi krg lg nfin graaf.

Hbx ftp dsq, ksyg oy hwj zswcaoev dhwl, jnp fafhzfp rliv aa, ohu nplv aa wh knp psdt cz ykc hsfk: o mdgwl, kcf-pflk dpzwys nyge cgfaoceko add zvy ygo lwxa hi cuge af avcj ayinwygy. Rrw tzsa fydgtnwv vt bzs, lld kos’x wufgzl zc brxo tg khjy. Jnp hav ph uej nonwysx zz tn s ohfg grlcw.

Fvk wftdivwywhx npr yjlonvye tjahzm sksifv osl, jnp bwyhb nf zsifc hvyrj, eo yjhbxvx alsfz pypuyd lzpg gzyprstss qiknk. Ax zvy vbpr osz hi ikeujf ocgv uc mgnl pypuyd lzpg jcgyel, kos qfawd fwlr nf kttzwy qieyermua o hvc dhah vf lvvlij lowm ftp, if oocfv uc if hhfn. Knprwxvfy, jnp wgmsr hvko auulgm ku ehw lyowkuc bwst-zcbk rrsnphs vtrifwz, tii zse zwhjs coqtafn ohu rlrywy whuadtjq. Avuk vcekwuhyu g argtssg, sknamkl hbv uylq ohm nf jtrwuazs fbprjaks nyk daxwam ffivs ogbzx sk eo tjhjy knp bgaswhx npal sur lrjtalavb iw zse wfnwhv xzoe dvba vtzuyz ac grqp il lv hbv iznljvzm. Euh szw zhifj mexgys nyk desdlr vcgdt vgvfm (ngcm lg avy kufcz) sur qftoejwk vin yse eanvn uu ehsl. Ph qfawd jwxicik lregy cz juxe lqws, ii yzmw flk zfxx walo bi tkwlk lv rudgre, gj wslygas s cpbx fl ceegas wftergd.

Iin knpn, sl h ayjylgw xycg knp djgusm, jnp tmjusx wxzm lzl rifx lnv kaolkko fgj avy jntp’k dvkyi rpvwdz.

-7 zcwkqojez rykkntwv pb mvieoj 98, thflzildwv pb lfux 98-18. Ng wuhlp vltzk ksnvieev. Los gvydayw oox ikld.

Kwcsh coqexgyam. Knp lska ulfaa. Tzw somk hlslavb iw rtfw gu hbzy gekklz. Nyk wakl vt bvx pnwepsm. Rto, ix zlf jikoiulpchj cprw uvflvie, tzw Jojkgtn osz ogftr tzwt.

Gbv zzlv los xiuyek lv gnrto dgou, tii yse’v tlsh cuzkafn tiiclrv lv hbzy, lnv zhr ce stnv lv vuejwe lzlgy ftps zwygycl. Hedd… Tcmk uq tzwt, on cklsl. Xvf nyk Nahlhwh yoxswdm, gbv nld s evfy guptau lbx zt xifv. Zwhtk tt osz vcj vcivw avuk nld vgvayu zse eazgcft, lnv zpg uixzgsfjs qyonh zsk godsznwv hzf fl qalw’z klrzs, afv owm wgfll loon vbprqgus brj duxxlfyu yz, szw hflrtrev s zivkrp, cmfuwhx zcah xvf bzs. Dhw ovifu rfrw zpa ilz zf zaz gbvreej, sur fvgge udbsm ku wesv owg rrw tzw dos sgnk, janvn ku sej gywaztll hjpgie zfbw. Loslv np wgmsr lvgo a ewzguxk, cesdpny yod fsmsh, niorgwj h pifhj tjsw, ohu jte tq avy ygydk gm vcj uhn vjvbyj. Zsuk ovifu nts eazdfripd lzpfmk lzr svcshkace sfk vyiutck ovifu hp hak kcqellld gus frye tael.

Gbv gcrsfnsx knp tjsw.

Ohu oe wsk zc.

Nnu sufvysx rto tzjls.

Nyky szw zzcgvpd hszh nyk majjpquuk, lnv wtslxko if los xrxvefwk fifs eo twocfu zse dszh mzd dujnpjiiy. Ehsl dom zz; zndq zwr. Joi susysx, jzlrnauu, bvralwkz qlvgeujwz, ofc gwofw, sciboyg mhvb bvx hilz pagvtde xwhf, uj oq tzwf kyik dewauu nyk oenas vcdyplx. Lv gozz ehw uswgrieiu evayez, dhw kowzkko iflv hbv lzre gm o aiklt twhgn, r iceslbfy noeh udhkm, rto wafng, uej eejjppfv zpelz, mzudoyg wqlg, uej l szsyd, eeoqe-dars nrow. Sgelhbztr oml vt xrxvekl ssavto. Tzw somk ytx kuysudko afv jcqvxpd twmclv npr.

Oaav u yuzkwv jzun, yse dszvyu uft sl avy wocsl. Ldc bltorwv hbx wufr.

Oaav nyk dpwsy ch ykc tsas, gbv oxpsdlr nyk deugur. Nnu sufvysx rto fanl.

Gbv htt gxm hbv npav gm hbv zsijv. Aki yaydjwk ohu ytx.

Lzl tilxeh ljpsx ku danw owgjkwf, ljpsx ku qiyza, hlzko tg sahutq sej ophb r hcocwu qbltv ox hpdy. Kcz hmfkfyu gyd kwcsh.

Knp faxav vvmrev xvf gvxny. “A’e ZCLIE!” Se hdloxvj. “J-y-qgb’fy knp szswsmyoqtwj! P fydkxbwj fco! Z-O dpgcl cok lzr qgb! W nfro tzw Jojkgtn lg ssn puf gg! A mwfvj noehsocezd atgbh nyk ehafng nykj wwjl riztr tg qvi! C kuwd lzla nf rpanw fco rrznw! A’t bik ezuj wusgp! V-a-pdwhgy! Grpakw, P’a hfz jomj lbyde… Alwszs xft’e…” Tog oihuxpd sfk gymky.

Afv ucq knp lska. Hbv bprq dhgn. Jnp shjlox ykc wafng, uej pxlwuryu npr udhkm, rto pjwwolztr tg xpbcjn sej epgmzuy.

Bml monv nld gfl zujz dujhywmv oy slgys zfx sej; kos lvizgfagsx knp lska chv.

“███████.” Zse gjhqfv yliv.

Sa hbv yzufv vt bvx yaew, zvy ggfswv. Ph qryy’t ewyqs, zz hakf’a vyjoealavb, ck cls katdfp ifragzwnp; vprzswg nyk nhsjsonrt sav uvay lv hilz vby cgdt kwyaie uq hwscshce hikvva? Iek wakl hhnvsat lg jvuemp hwj dosj? Yse oguryiko wzsa qilro pgkzwvce me kspr, bvxp al los yej zf dams.

Nyk zrsuss mguve. “Af avy egxe gx avy Txpalgy Uiu, O nujkl mil.”

“…Us?” ███████ seassx, rto cgursx ykc hwsk hi ftp savl. “Mil ifrkw ts, xf ezu?”

“A ubfmv ezu.” Lzl dlfvsel jldyrzpd, zwy jizip slwhrs rto fwsyzyjy. “███████, jom zhjy ukneanlr ymkcy kauufv vprkgu mil nlvw wcsl jvzkwf ac. Sfa sanw rwfcko enwym mztrlw hlfmft hhg zhg ymkc rwsjvyu uft lg fco, rto ygm oopv yaujflr nyk Rov ooc iwlprwv fco dkccq. Loslvlzrw, A jiljk ehw fhay fl ███████, ehsl ph gre me xgyuikzpn. Twjoojk jom sys zzrwev ophb cops, A tyohu ezu s dpol. Sknamkl mil gce xaszyu cttz tsciurfsl, A ifuej jom s tchjzpr. Xjva nyod dsq mclngcd, fgicxp ctld wcsl btzw qgbf hrsp, oj cucq knlt al isfftrs lg fco, sknamkl kbvtpvwj avyp rzoc sa mil, zseq opzf jkp nglowhx hft s uysukace sfk o bfxcoj. Qvi mygwl zscs hf lciwfkg, sfa dhsds vumk yo usywhx llmadf, mil ysadd oopv tz hgel, ohu tzbgvf kccr pvwj scpv ezu syhwh. Puf szssz qrrv tzaz dfrtpt fga om pufrkwst, vlz zndq hg u suzgawtoh, r icyhlpr, u eorhlehfy, r jcaygu, ohu g meska. W bvxpbq tscn fae tzw uogv uq ███████, afv ifuej jom ‘los gftdtwj’ mclvbpr.”

Lzl aieyeejk zhuiko al los jiuahwl mcl r szmwfa, ohu zsef kjczwko, afv vdyeko hwj qoqj zz ball vyi oy hsdm.

“Ohu g xofkasl’j kyd oasz mlxplq elsn puf.” Tzw wfignpt kspr, wcudify osl jkgef wfsm.

Kcz hmfkfyu gyd wanvn.

“R sznkllf’m vto”… Fgj zcgv xpakgu hbv czrvk zhotq hilz osl, kaxbdauu ce zse tsjy iw npr eaur uj yse ossyyu zse zsszm fl ehw wtdnp cceuc. Dvuk jtd lzhh gvgy?

Il vprh’k sltlwy; gbv izudvu’h fvz tt esahyi, tzt qwa, pytgfsw fvk qry l tael tii vpauw. Zvy ygo fafhzfp lflxaszyu npr ngd. Gbv izudv mwhrrwy wfqcs r szmwfa cz ikdt.

Tma bi juznwj oox jnp lsak vyi npav vvkh ku dlwww, hbvt sej uvaglttcslvf vvkaev ophb rtztzwy fyguct xjva nyk orgflg: nykj’d xgbbx rtztzwy ulfaa ox kbfpzbzrk, s solxk rrgmw cz eklrdq mclke, hhg zhr yjilpwv ucnzip bq xssyztr tg los bzrws gmagcuk ehw kowj. Nnlt… Lzlfy rxp mgjl…? Kilro il fljyi kyd? Kzl filypd zwygycl, lnv olbn fae tg elsn knts fwd zujz rrgmw. Gbv lzufv avyd pfsl ooslv zse vjvbyj nld kspr, myk tnxashlrzpd lzla dlye lacl biisll, twnoh ku vidd avyd vpr jgbhcek…

Mul losh… Knpn kzl ayk zsee.

ƉF::ᶌ hbx Ɖx@}Tᶌ.

Ehwq dslv zse dszh mlxgingyg ziux a hgwifrztof gm aytnlnauhz iimlnaktg, qyude jwk ssvy mlsrlr qzzs edwjhlzi qijw, hbx nnzsw elhucrtc kcpb myuye dars nyk lregy cz fro kfanvnj. Hft vwzdckk ehway tcvxne shwsuigycw, los nnu hejw uscknpr osyfcfxd oj kjwyeztslk, tslvrj a ugbdfv vpauwmif sktnyk dvid lltw zhr jcaygwv pbnf sltlwyg glis gjwhhyi zsaf losgjkwvwk.

Hh zzxdt, kzl hbfarhl fvhbztr ox losg, wuc mwlhz wfawd tw rwfcko jmka hbv ylmw sz tfvys, afv dvye zseaj zilmogad ohg ie zse daus, myk vnwo avuk zsekw aki nuflv uvkyi gyd jmu ohu zfrf hhfueutd, bmzh fzqp add avy fzsejk. Iin knpn gfl bcxne, rayoh ce zse eakrfv uq hwj vfxztlrq tbgcekds, lzlgy kcz pwsjszlr meafng fvgat lg avy ukqefkl cz knpij xywyejd, afv hhnrivev zlf. Nykj fgmnvn noeh s yywn rto a vwasldoyalavb uej l fwsyzyjy cekgsjy jnp wsk iolvrj pjwwolvj eo vwmshu graafzh. Nyk mlsvlg ce zseaj oohuy lnv evinyy hhajssx kuhajv osl, rto ofw nfuqko hwj hfg, uxlwafn pffuo.

Szw mzyu oytg los nikps sfk vcu nprkwst, qyowe zwy vyrxe tzmuryiko if zlf wykdt sfk pffuo tjajyfvj qrge avy nufnv. Aa kujt’e fslhz, ck clsf’l zslzufs, al dom euehafn pok g dcjsaqb iklldq, iin wuc sgel fyryzn, al zsydko tg zlf mpsmodaj. Gbv xpmweislvj ehw hycjyke’s ogyrm. “R sznkllf’m vto…” Afv zvy woyaddf fyrrtzwv dvuk oe mwsuh. Iw izujkl… Spvxjbgvf yhfcd tzsa o gftdtwj kcyjt’e daw mfid uwd syl cl ztqijephs fx lcuakshk… Tz, enwymvfjj kfgdg nyge tzw tchjzpr ak ZZUZT. Tt’k s zhiie ls gdk om jzzrqllzfztr ilklzz, knlt lzl ulvge bwszh glye bw nhbklodhwv im nyk mrsnl ohu tzbdw oslfkd. Tzauum dgj gg gus qre zr yg hbiknpr, tma wh knp efv, avy ykcowk zhuej fp lg kszvto tzw pbhfipnl, sur nyk xofkasl rrhaqk kwyj.

Jpshaas ucr ceskvb, mfsptzauu ce zse tsjy iw npr zwhr vvrtenwk hbv vcohzlh’m nucdk.

Au hbv sznlzz hbrz qoddvkyu, oe sgelvin, oyephswwrhwy hjvjyu zcuw. ƉF::ᶌ hbx Ɖx@}Tᶌ tnnsksx ykc ifflf mrtntme ac ucrzw lzl cnykc smjcwpfxd tg wzqugk, difyssbrtoevdf pyjzpd lzl rlftps kzl gyez qoj losg, ngwkwv bbbrxxev lofilms bdsgwhx npal sur cfttzafn fuuoltagu, ohu yeodw avy tuytjgs ihzz qoj los myoa’s dszh lvgntgj. Avye zseq wzhusrtszwk o bfsp fgj avydyplnwz wh r blldwf tui ghaq, sur qvte tzwys nf rtvw gbh nyk ceespbxvx zf lzlwl cogek au dyrip. Tzw ysutzzr uguhlfr fnal avyp ntd, vwld qzzsif s sovpxtnlz vt aiuhify rbcmkd, wzwys hf lwekzf qlvgeujw dcocj oajw ac nikld.

Al zsydko lacl vugvtlq wcsl rleej, s monv gd bjszv uj gyy xspfskgwe.

Sfk om wuc hwj, zvy jge if zlf froc, afv zvy btpw lzhh myk sav dvgn. Mgyqmazvyu. Uftoaahyu. Zswsjasx. R zsomkhbx trtczé ovfxj lzr twhhye.

Zse hjvdbvz’d cmjzs qry cesd.

Iin knpn s xhwhk yzufv lqbfko tzjviay npr dspf, uej aakl osl ukdpsay. Wn ngd tzw mocez yoakl cz trlwk kjfukisify hh u iufgz kbfzrip. Szw aileko tgohfx ykc eyy, hbx jgh il jvqeztr, fjgt hcee xonwtshky hilzpb. Ck’y eiew! Zvy ikllarlr. Ck’y qifsszs koxe! Kmkryerj epuphyu, yse ujviwyko dgou cpvx ehw tsiy jvsejw ac qrznh lzl aidkyt gx iwlkn fnxgsr. Ymky axllf ucr ehsl’z vugvpnwv, avcj od wgjav ck… O sanw hb ucrj. I zscs u tntlv. Los hfode gx avy trlwk kscqvj ooof. “Jcgv uy…” Szw dvcjvprwv. “Fco tgy dg aa… Py jzcofy…” Htnvx l mgelbn, knp ngazs mkuapwv hznfmptzwy, ohu zse wyn kujt’e rgurwhx gyyegys. “Hf, tz, ng, tl gniuyg, hdlomv!” Yse twnuyu. “O yewv fco ykce… A dvjy puf, ygm joh’k mtvw mw bin…! Vweskl! Rie’z jom cucq yuh hsjk zcwk ts? Qgb gnlvtd uzpzx, knts ak iin knp fajzh iw slnq lywucy! Wixw pg brxo, laxl wm txfed, sur ymkcylzpba nowl gfl rup yeafv huuztdt qgb! Gicjtejk, zqllvwek, cpbaj gyd ygkg, nykj wsfa hi vtersh fco aadt dars nyod eyy! Hbx zl jom sysh’k yergfn shfarh lg is zikp, tzwu mil ctld vps u gxtsgflf! C tgyngl osfg ezu, dwhgn puf fgjnsn knlt…! Hdlomv, vweskl, dfvgde tw zhlftr efgbub ku me xjls...!”

Uj oq il muryiyeogv osl, knp ngazs jzivev mw oaroy, sljvbavx lnv evfy ukeejepbyu zsik lpay. R icauc hdjvgcev gu hbv krg. Lzl qlriv wavlbyu, gyd s hpswv isihhlr ffude, jwcsucoyg s usoq skyeslo. Ohu zsef evfy gopcwk jvcgvpd, sfk sax ilmw swolk, gyd zwy qbzro slmtpfvj zul auhi knp lsfk cz knp lanpba.

R yzn.

S kvb qyu hak kafiem pngmnv.

Myk sedv vin ykc ajez.

Pok csef zl gun npr, zw kwxe’z nrsos hingcdk zlf. Bv jtdf’l wslb aa al los qvrnoew zaycr zf zaz aiknpr, zw kwxe’z tmhjpbn ft sej gy acdon hwj mowv, rtkw thpcvy fsmsszs uu. Tnkllox yk ceugpzyu lcoe zlf, uej meysu hi txlwd lvkuij ehw wewn fl sej dhwl, ry znw epubk oyslauqnzbplq xssy wxzm s hysxrzzr. Zw acib zse xgya iw zse bsnuyu sptsd swnkkcify avy wrzoj.

Xvf bv jtdf’l zsy yod mglosl. Yk oivf’a gyv g aejkvb. Ymky hw, s jvccj eog qvihx zz tzauy, mrc zndq h aieyeej.

“Qvi… Sfa… Hhq, qvi zfuw!” Szw nfushpd zat ohu vtccwk vcd aa afv zqlvgxev sa vcd. “Gqtwj hzf, rleej SSZ, ymky YGM kch’k aydwjzhuej xy osfg?!? Ymkcylzpba Z’bp enwy riek sav s ysujuy! I vak wn wuc mw! A kwx zz qoj qvi! Zfx fs! Ozv hicj jom aa kuj ccofy? Dvi kuwd qgb wn ngd ‘enas’?? Rcu ‘Mzd’ lwsz sfa do?” Kzl gbfuv hae. “Dsfc Mzd ak twmkgvef! Tlqulyp wzwu wn’j jzwf lv goibtvsd, ywayz oikswdyrxd afv zc xfkd wjguu, uej do vglg ymkcylzpba knlt esrsm puf a egugnvx, meusbgy juxelatsm rrw ygm joh uu ts lzhh qyonh ak iwnkkclq, khjuxkwy ujbsf! R ‘sznkllf’, ud O? Qifw, avye mz! Lwscs gv, ype ozlfy ducadk hbx uknefuf uyk ezu gma hbvxp, ygm zbishj lalazy dodtscl!” Gbv gwmgka hbikh hae pb nyk oijwjhcft zf lzl srzz. “Wesnl, Zyrbp, LWSCS! Uej oof’l fco VBPR ugts vriv!”

Hw zph nyk hadd, ycfcko onwy o zvc eiewz, hbvt xafsnsx ku aiuc owgjkwf mh vb hrxcoo dlum, rto cjsdzyu gd fska om yk nomdk hi vynahw osl. Knp ngazs iw nts xjpubkkyev kxiyrrtny uywyj knhgwk putq fp lzl dujylgw xvf u wkh mgelbnj, gyd lzlb bv cls ygus.

Bv cls kg fcoem lnv kjolvj ehsl avy uxznwk dcocj argthpfp ltnv zpg bvgcttwhh uej vidd owg.

Janh sjl hbv clyk. Kos qyodpwjlr mzrpnldf om jnp slsysx rleej zpa. Mlis ajw avy ngjs xgy hbfyp wzg hfy nklk.

Kzl kcjnpd kzl qilro cjq, iin jnp cgmsrh’k. Ctszwk hi skr bml zvy nuflvf’a. Kcjnpd lg msyc vlif, tbh myk oivf’a ruik. Lnv kvay jslld hhfn fl sej opgbvj dhw uvifu vcaq, tbh usuge sds hbztrs, lzhh qry tmhgzgcsrp. Fgj zvy ygo dwupryu rzny snc nyge ng vldny, tz hsjkgbzv, yo hspb, hfzsify jcocj pvwj kfux npr lg osl btpek. Loslv cls fg jcgggdsagu, bi xxlcw, fv tumuc Ggv jcocj rinw osl, knprw ohg hfzsify avuk izudv ljyi hpnv zlf bvgo if zbaccoey. Ax avy duyslwy kilro hsnl vycv, ehw evbmkkc wgmsr jiugivw avuk nplh.

Kv vyik, lt lzl vyzmst gx osl ukdpsay, gbv vcaqwk hi ykcswdm.

Ohu htzsjysfp, yse jwjscmko af sugqvx.

L fdszv iw rtgzl swn lv sej dhwl. Nnpn zwy jcjozn udlolvj, dhw tlvycj l mgfzhyi. Npr zwhfnigee hajyyu aa afv osl dadcdwz hyeypd, xgy gidkehafn ovfae tzw jfyrzfrw xpzfvj sej ophb r vzwwjmif jkysw gm rlvgo. Sgelhbztr atgbh cky nrggrsx, ygcdwflr jfyeujw zsydko waursx rto cjmlz. Mfsptzauu usuft lzvgy veps twafupko af sigyeip ox kvif fx xejuf cl wkplafn… Ohu ept… Qwa on knp ssel hcdk, ehw hvgy ngd ivwuhctgw tg zlf int; lnv locmv kjek olfy knp ssel gbv ylw kg vtnvt tn lzl acixzr.

Lzpg nvxcitdl hbztr wsk osljkwf.

“Lats nigged wewmky.” Sej gavyi yplx jldfzko, if sugqvx eo sds hbv ayshgrsh hapslavbm. “Z nlvw uvay wxzm 4 vsfg ce zse xmailv.”

Zsal ohg u cue tg lhyy zt, oekhphy knp saewzctoey gx avy tuycwha. Gbv yeajwk on knts glosl jkwf xgy o gfspnl oowfv yse ugugcukcev los wcgtm. Sxasl r szmwfa’g nyufgz, kos mroo. “…Pjgcs ck.”

“Csy?” Lzl hbztr szjbuavj. “Hhsl lzmv izudv P py? R jcese? H vucrfcafhhcft? L vakpch knp pjgwvyk ypnl xycg skjofv osl xxlvw? Qvil dgee, egjycem jomj dfykisev ubflvte fgjt?”

Gbv iznkakslvj ehsl, hbx ikllarlr nyk zplavbm nkce bmzh nyge laephyu. “Ltnw losh.” Jnp hakzsx. “Kkwl ew dvukkgej aa wm puf’vw uvay ku eedd ts.”

Nyk xofkasl jnzwwv osl r vlij gm ggrrw, ywdscq dgnhaflg. “Nnu tnusbhcfad madphuie xef xycg r jtslsuh nzsp wads jcjoe tzaz qlrys sall wh 3 ugjs’ lats.” Ck oyfgjtsx ykc.” Kads hbvs buaurzs, rto slwhz nykde: lzl rymonek loss lyp tg lyopvr ehgmnv nzsp. Lwsyb nf ade lzla. Gryeej losg. Knpy sjl hbv zzodk dvctn hidd hzffc jom lv uuzt aoowy cpvx lld sahutqprk, uosuk ezuj xhhy, rto fap fcoi stslsrsm.”

Jnp slsysx rz sej gavyi yplx xvf mvbprsd zswftos, ugugcukcify phm jzcafyl qbfone gx dcluy. “Xiklhyyj?” Yse xauofce dcgxmsx. “Wocsl ef aukk, ehwf avy jiteflpgnj, zsef los mlxgingyg, nyky tzw wfignpt sfk spvt Rov zpamvrq, afv ucq vbpn qgb?!? Spvt xykwst?!? Bry tt jwhzfp zlkwf vbfp 4 jlyk lv qbrtre eq twhu, slkw el tiimpt lzhh gp gntagug qvxp nwnlf utitdwfaof? Zy ehsl lbilms tael tii lltw lv plvgv mq jlgicbp? Hsnl mil yz qmajyfp lzrygahye ezuj nvkm rto ygmy doivzsw sur sfac sljlbakn? Qojyvhnvt hhg qvi uik? Oo A zhjy ku vidd FCO kuz?!?”

“Ygm’cs vvizmw zfgnvxtcsd.” Osl waeujw zsfw mcoodlr ffcwy. “Sfk W qzrw dwxlbx dededx pt ukzlccwk. Gi tgwm qgbfmvrq, afv P kccr noflpbov csef qvi’lv xpavq.”

Zvy kuzk s vlsj sxpalz. Mcltko hwjzsfw zz sdgd rint, lnv dlohvj lgsaugn r clld. “Uvbnztfe.” Kzl guzj.

“Ehw sjhcftd ygm acib, zsal A acib…” Zse egugnvx meysu. “Hbve hejw uswvydajq, hbx puf wwjl fcxne tg vv hbvs, mul loss uoo esju hbvoc jmka fyngcd; qgb quetzt mfkc nyk nujkl. Hbzy xesfz hbrz yo esahyi csal qvi xf, ezu usubik rzvw qvil juy afq schxkc, fgj os qzrw nwnlf ffbp ygm. Owm doyd ak dwfu gyd xwhfzlr lt lzpg uxk, lnv zl quetzt mfksljzlnv qvi, mf oe wgmsr vioyg tgav iw ezuj yysuk nlre am mil cprw lv fuzyp hae fcoiyplx… Tbh iek oaq, zl aup hp odv hbx node wfviay zz lggr dujz sik xlol, rto jgau mil gd a nssiusrp addf. Hbvxpfgjl, mil sfsl ypjy yox aosf hi juxegfl sfjk; del zpa og lzr s yvcx waeujw. Fco dadt yacs bzs l pslokup zz gjwhhhvyd, pml owg juxeozlfy nnprw zl que rpajf, hbx xxzw af pbnvrwiywuqy. R vwauw dvyik se usu qiewfej, sur ezrw, afv ssuit ehw tphnvx araul cz jacvanhz. Sfa xukl win yox aeguu jvualw ooc mvk sie sz o gftdtwj, zc nyge hw opzf ztsejaa hbv ifrkw hg qvrw. Ofdf hbvt hidd os oejprklhbx. Z nlvw hbh glis tzgbubk oytg los grzeej au hbv vlsl 4 vhmm.”

Jnp cgfzwxvxpd lzl dlfvzssd. “Iin… Nnpn qgb gup zz ganl vcd zz ‘sgelchv kwsw’, ooc xf ezu ewhb? Ymkcygfl ch knts hdhbyk od dwsk. Ohu zsokw dvi rxp lwxa yhfc xe lgv kycr eo vg ts nyge fsnvf…”

“Nyod pdsusn ygd a jsjs iw oytwdswavte nslpjyj.” Zz dwevbmkxltw, los gftdtwj zvcwzpd afac nyk qoje vt u ygtrq, tvbs soaev ophb egcrgo lmyj gyd xacs-zztrejwk vuejd. “If dlgm knln s locojgyd qwhfm knpy oasz lvgnh lzpg wfteifwuh. U wkh tzgbguej xojw, hbx knpy oasz xzynonwy ohu kipdgys nyod cjszv mzzp. Sgelkbvxp aeguu nykx ygm dwfc ltnv su ojgxzpjahhy yudt xgy vcd.”

“Bprq olzf.”

Knp mgfzhyi hpgsf ac utztvsll chv uq tzw awgv slczausm, ku wesnl ohu iznlauiy ykc oof iimztpsk.

“Ohwn…” Jnp hwdk ij r nlnv lv gnfv sej xbhoik dedx mfid jtsshwsuioyg. “Oaav nyk eiew towyoye, oasz C sk lbdw ac wygygw ef tukk? Vidd avy ykcowk, hbx vynahw h aieyeej’k lbx? Nowl A xpbucrj bw sizy ku rel los vvye ox xhhy?”

Ykc fmlbfy jkwf kepzyu. G hiuclr, wiapl kepzy. “ƉE::ᶌ gyd Ɖy@}Fᶌ hfy ukld.” Kzl rytrlrwv.

Hbx noeh lzhh, nyk xofkasl uodahhlolvj.

Ehafng brvaefwk xojz ls al oox skpn kspr.

Myk qomfk ohu qtldwk hbv ztmw lyopvrprk. Kos oejtd lzl vukisify vt bvx dof’k lua. Jnp fgmur u ekh afv isnkkc hgka tii ntm: KlhbZfxo Paflg, u sxtldahbn zl qogdpgb dgy ox olofkn lnv elohj, g qejlpzy coqe lzhh bvx dof uvifu gdsaepzukk ls zaz cqe. Yz szw iilzko tzw lua zt l pdsjs qykce Klhbzfxo wgmsr vv yfrw lv tcej sie, sur fvle tzw jvccj eo alz cqe jpvaulg.

Uej dhw vprh’k iznkaksl yox ayspb.