*KA-BOOM!*

A neon fireball raced down from the ceiling, providing the only source of light throughout the darkened arena. It exploded into a literal shower of pyrotechnics; its noisy finish was evenly matched by the thunderous roar of the surrounding audience.

*KA-BOOM!* *KA-BOOM!* *KA-BOOM!*

Three more blasts trailed downwards, each adding to the multi-colored fountain stemming on the stage entrance. Dozens of stage lights beamed on, giving sight to the thousands that traveled near and far for tonight's event. A mounted fifty-foot video monitor instantly sprung to life, displaying a circling shot of the countless fans waiting for the action to begin.

The state-of-the-art surround speakers started to boom, as the evening's commentators opened the show:

"Welcome one and all, to the greatest display of Sports Entertainment today!"

The camera focused on a kindly, middle aged man dressed in black sitting at a plain wooden table covered in a cheap tablecloth. He tilted his beige cowboy towards the viewer as a sign of respect before adjusting his thick coke-bottle-rimmed spectacles.

"This is ol' trustworthy Chuck Andersen, joining you on another exciting Oregon Championship Wrestling event…"

The shot panned outwards, revealed that he was joined by a fellow broadcaster. Unlike his partner, this slightly older gentleman was dressed in more comedic garb, with a shiny metal crown on top of his head, and his shorten body draped in royal purple.

"And as always, I am partnered with former OCW superstar, Hoss "The Mad Tyrant" Taylor…"

The faded wrestling icon offered a gentle wave to the gathering behind him.

"I tell you what, Hoss. We are in for a heck of a night, aren't we?"

"You betcha, CA! All of the OCW's shining stars are here and waiting to battle it out for all that precious, precious gold!"

"Darn straight, Ty! Every championship belt is on the line tonight; you have the Lightweight, Cruiserweight, US Title, US TV Title, Hardcore, European, Canadian, French-Canadian…" The announcer took another deep breath, "…Smoky Mountain, Ohio Valley, Women's, and Heavyweight up for the taking!"

"Is that all? Phew, what a mouthful!"

"And don't forget! OCW will proudly present a never-before-seen style of match as our main event. No hints to be given, I'm afraid. The way to find out what it is exactly is to park your keister, meister, and stay tuned!"

*R-RING – RING – RING!*

"And there's the bell, CA! Our first match is slated to begin…right now!"

"Here comes our first contender!"

As the contest began, the sea of rowdy Oregonians cheered and booed the vying competitors displaying their awesome skills. Amongst them, in the upper-right bleachers, a young, green flannel-donning ginger cupped her hands against her mouth as she roared alongside her much-smaller charge.

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!" Wendy Corduroy screamed at the top of her lungs. "KICK HIS SCRAWNY-BUTT!"

"WWWHHHOOOOO!" Mabel Pines stood on her seat to try to match her friend's height and followed suit, "WHAT SHE SAID!"

The girls laughed out loud as they collapsed back into their seats.

"This is so awesome!" Wendy exclaimed with pure excitement. "I didn't think we'd be able to get tickets in time."

"You're telling me…" Mabel sat back and used her palms to level her head as she stared deeply at the two muscular athletes duking it out in the center of the squared circle. "This…is…a lot better than I'd thought it'd be…"

The redhead smiled and shook her head. She lightly slapped her co-worker's arm to regain her attention. "Don't get me wrong, Mabes. That is awfully nice to see, too, but this show – this place is so much more than that."

"Huh?" The love-struck tween awoke from her spell and sat up. "Whatdya mean by that?"

The fifteen-year-old used her arms to highlight the thousands of fellow fans, "I mean, there's a reason they call this the "OCW Universe.""

"I'm still not following you…"

"Like, you have all these people here for a variety of different reasons…" Wendy's green eyes scanned the arena for a split second. She pointed down towards the front row, where a set of drunken men howled as they held up colorful posters made of crepe paper. "For example, those lame-os down there are what you'd call "marks."

"Marks?"

"Yep. A mark is someone who believes that everything that happens in wrestling is one-hundred percent real."

Mabel began to ask, "You mean, there are people pathetic enough not to know any better?"

"Oh, you bet." Wendy went on. "Of course, not everything is completely fake, like when they take certain shots, or when a cool-looking stunt suddenly goes horribly wrong. Even then, these guys are pretty good when it comes to not breaking kayfabe."

"Breaking kay-what?"

"Kayfabe." Wendy repeated. "Like, how those two fighting in the ring don't really hate each other. Heck, just check their social media, and you'll probably see them hanging out together."

"Ohh, that's kinda sweet…"

She moved her finger towards the other end of the ringside. "Now, do you see those serious-looking dorks sitting calmly on the other end?"

"Yeah…"

"Those are probably a group of "smarts." Smarts are fans that not only know the results are scripted, but go as far as to find out all of the spoilers from magazines and websites to ruin the surprises for themselves."

"Well, that's no fun…"

"Tell me about it." Wendy lamented. "These guys think it's cute to try to wreck things for everyone else. Though to be fair, sometimes, smarts are those that work behind the scenes with the crew. They even sit in the audience to try to sway the crowd a certain way to help make the show flow better."

"Oh! So, they're planted out there to make things look more real…"

"You got it, munchkin."

Mabel paused for a moment as a confused expression appeared on her face, "But Wendy, what would that make us?"

"Hmm…" The lumberjane rolled her eyes as she thought. "Well, I guess that would make us smarks – fans who know the truth, but go and enjoy the story anyways."

"And the hot-looking guys…"

Wendy laughed, "And the good-looking dudes don't hurt things, either." She sat back in her seat as she continued with her impromptu history lesson, "You see, a lot of those hardcore fans are still sore about something that happened when my dad was a kid."

"What happened?"

"Back then, there wasn't one big wrestling group. Instead, they were split into different territories, where they each had their own superstars and big-shots. But, as the years went on, one man bought them all up, and rebranded it under a single nation-wide, corporate-based company."

Wendy leaned forward and used her fingers as air quotes, "He decided to make everything "family-friendly," tone down the "excessive violence and action," and called the shots on what wrestlers were to be "buried…"

"Buried?!" Mabel's eyes grew wide. "You mean, he buried them alive?!"

"Nah, silly." Wendy gave her a gentle love-tap on her shoulder. "Buried" means that he purposely made some wrestlers look stupid or ridiculous, so they wouldn't be as popular with the fans. Rumor has it that he liked to do this to a lot of the older fighters to get them out of the limelight or especially those that once belonged to a rival company, as a form of prolonged punishment."

"Whoa…" Mabel was blown away by Wendy's story. "Their boss sounds really mean…"

"Well," The redhead sunk back down. "That's Victor Leopold Macallan for you. A genius businessman and mastermind to some, and to others, he's said to be the devil himself…"

"BAH!"

"Oh, he speaks!" Wendy's attention turned towards her partner in crime, who had remained silent until that very moment. Dipper Pines ducked down into his chair as he crossed his arms and pouted. His face was twisted into an annoyed and somewhat bored appearance.

"So, how are you diggin' things, buddy?" His not-so-secret crush patted his front as she flashed a smile. "Are you getting into the action?"

Dipper threw out his arm, "Are you kidding? This is the stupidest thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"I know, right, I – " Wendy's face instantly fell, "Wait, what?"

He continued on, using his hand as a highlight, "I mean, look at this! You got two no-mind muscle-heads trying to beat themselves up for absolutely no reason whatsoever! And I say "trying," because I can see how phony their punches and kicks are even from all the way up here in the nosebleeds!"

The teenager was taken aback by all of her friend's negativity. "Well, Dip. Keep in mind, the first couple of matches kinda stink because of all the jobbers and – "

"- I'll bet the so-called superstars are even worse! A bunch of fake wannabe athletes that are stuck in this place because they couldn't cut it in real sports." Dipper slid down further as he used a fist to hold up his wary head, "I tell you, Wendy. Someone would have to be completely brain-dead to enjoy this utter nonsense!"

"Wow…" Unbeknownst to her admirer, the copper-haired tomboy sat back down with a shattered heart. She stared forward, not as much as blinking her eyes as she struggled to find the right words. "I – I'm sorry, Dip – I didn't know you – "

After trailing off, Wendy remained motionless as she gathered her thoughts. After a moment of quiet reflection, the lanky girl stood up and stretched her limbs. As Mabel watched the scene play out in silent awe, Wendy bent down and whispered, "Hey, Mabel? I'm – I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head. Y'know, get some snacks. Or maybe try to sneak in back to get an autograph or two."

Her eyes glanced towards Dipper as he remained unaware in his own little world. "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

Mabel nodded, understanding that a little bit of space could ease the current tension. As soon as Wendy disappeared from sight, the pint-sized matchmaker hopped into Wendy's seat, so that she was now next to her twin. She picked up a fallen program from the floor, rolled it into a tight bundle, and cracked it into the back of her dozing brother's head.

*WHAM!*

"OWWWWW!" Dipper came back to full attention as he grabbed his sore spot. He turned towards his sister. "Mabel? Why – What do you think you're doing?!"

The tiny defender refused to back down, poking Dipper's stomach with the still-wrapped newspaper. "What do you think you're doing, Dipper? You totally broke Wendy's heart with your smarty-smart mouth!"

"I – What?" He sat up erect in his seat. "I didn't – "

"Oh, no?" Mabel demanded as she curled her fists against her hips. "Is that why she just stormed outta here?"

"I thought she went to get more food?

Mabel's disbelief grew with every passing second. "What the – Dipper. Didn't you hear anything of what Wendy was saying a few minutes ago?"

The embarrassed detective slumped back into his chair. "I – well, I was sorta zoning in and out…" He gave an unnerved look. "Besides, Mabel, I'm sure Wendy isn't bothered in the slightest. It's like when we rip on those old crappy movies during our movie nights."

The metal-mouthed pixie dropped onto her seat in exhaustion and started to give her sibling the cold shoulder. "Jeez, Dipper. You're such a mark for yourself!"

"I'm a what?!" He shook off his confusion and began to argue his case. "Mabel, I – so I don't like this garbage. Big deal! Just because I love – I mean, I feel the way I do about Wendy doesn't mean I have to like every single thing that she does."

"And that's okay, Dipper," Mabel tried to reach him one last time. "Just like I'm sure that there's tons of super-boring things that you drag Wendy through – "

"Hey, hang on a sec!" Dipper protested. "I show Wendy nothing but the coolest stuff!"

"Oh, yeah, Dipper," she said. "I'm sure it's every girl's lifelong dream to go out in the deep, dark woods and collect spores for countless hours – "

"Ah, ah, ah!" He held up a finger in correction. "They were ancient alien spores…"

"That's not the point! Wendy puts up with such malarkey because it's important to you! So, when she worked her freckled butt off to share this with us, what did you do? You not only told Wendy how much you hated this, but you went on to say how dense she was for liking it in the first place!"

Dipper was struck somber by his sister's argument. "…whoa…" He lowered his head in shame as he inched the edge of his seat. "I – I really screwed up, didn't I?"

"Yeah, dummy." Mabel concluded. "You really did. Thanks for finally joining the rest of us."

He began to twist his hands as his natural nervousness took over. Dipper looked at Mabel out of the corner of his eye. "W-W-What should I do now?"

"Hmm…" The self-proclaimed matchmaker held her index finger against her dimpled cheek. "Well, normally, I'd say to make it up to Wendy with flowers and chocolate, but considering where we are…" She opened her arms to highlight the surrounding arena. "…I'd say to bribe your way back into her good graces with tons of junk food."

"Lots of food…" Dipper nodded as he rose to his feet. "Got it…"

"You know the stuff." Mabel added. "Popcorn, nachos, maybe one of those pepperoni-and-anchovy pizzas that she loves so much. And lots of soda pop!"

"Yeah, yeah…" He walked past his twin as his mind raced at the horrid possibilities. "I gotta – gotta find her…"

Mabel called after Dipper as he walked down the stairway leading back to the outer arena. "Good luck, Romeo! You're gonna need it!"

Once she was all alone, the small pre-teen shook her head in disbelief, "Oh, those two lovebirds. What would they do without me looking out for them?"

Her sights soon focused on a beefy, oiled-up wrestler, flexing and posing in the center of the ring as the second match was about to begin.

"But in the meantime…" She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and her palms holding her head steady. "I might as well enjoy the show…"

"Gotdangit!"

*BLAM!*"

Deep within a hideaway office in the back of an arena, a middle-aged manager violently slammed his fists against his fancy, high-quality, handcrafted wooden desk as his assistant watched on. The growing stress forced the businessman to readjust his tightening collar, and patted down the creases chasing up on his custom made, Italian darkened suit. His silver hair reflected the lighting beaming down from overhead.

With his anger managed, the man threw his hand towards the countless bundles of paper before him. "Just look at these numbers! The house take is down! The Pay-Per-Views are down! And even the Network's numbers are down! Every month, they only sink further and further into the red!"

"Well, what do you expect?" The booker commented, pushing his thinning brown hair away from his forehead. "Look at what all the dirtrags and websites say about us. That we're getting old and stale!" He bent down further, making sure not to ruin his yellow-canary suit as he met his boss's gaze. "I'm telling you, the only way we can get ourselves out of this mess is if we go back to the way things used to be – "

The elder replied in a calm voice, knowing that his cohort only had the best of intentions, "We've been over this, pally. The business has changed. It isn't just us on our own nowadays. We have sponsors we have to answer to, and – "

*KNOCK – KNOCK!*

A security guard tapped his knuckles on the partially-opened door. "Hey, boss?"

"What?!"

"We – We had a situation in the back…"

"Huh? What kind of "situation?""

The officer stepped to the side, leaving the doorway open. With a nod, two more guards brought a much smaller teenage girl into the room with her arms held behind her back as she kicked and squirmed in protest. "Hey! Let me go! I told you! I didn't mean to go backstage! I just got lost on the way to the bathroom!"

The manager's eyes lit up upon seeing the feisty ginger dressed in lumberjack gear, "What in the world?"

His associate chuckled, adjusting his glasses, and whispered into his administrator's ear, "Maybe it's one of the "rats" getting too crazy in the locker room?"

He swiped him away, "Don't be naïve. It's only some kid."

"I said, let me – " Wendy stopped struggling as she finally spotted the two men on the other side of the room. "Wait, I know you. You're – You're Victor Macallan! You're the creator of the OCW!"

"That's correct, young lady…"

Her eyes moved to the other man, "And you're… Russell B. Cornfed, the brilliant wrestling booker and the most infamous tag-team manager in history!"

"In history, eh?" Russell stroked his chin. "I think I like her already, Vic."

Vic Macallan remained somewhat stern in his mannerisms. "What's the story with this one, chief?"

One of the guards holding Wendy in place began to explain, "We caught her trying to sneak into the back and score herself some autographs. When we tried to accost her, she took down two guards before we were able to secure her."

"This little thing?!" Cornfed pointed at Wendy. "Heck, I don't know if we should sign her or get ourselves some new security guys…"

"Corny…" Vic held a hand up towards him. He folded his hands together and placed them on the desk. "Well, miss. You seem to know who we are, but I haven't the slightest idea to whom you are…"

"Well, my name is W – "

"But I can already tell who you are." Macallan interrupted. "How's about "spending-the-weekend-in-juvie-for-breaking-into-private-property" sound?"

Wendy's mouth dropped, "Wait, I didn't – "

"But that might seem too harsh; even by my standards." A devilish grin slowly began to form. "And it's more than obvious that you are a fan, so let's try "banned from all OCW events for life!""

"No!" Wendy squirmed, making the security guards tighten their grip on her. "Look, I know – I know I screwed up royally, but let me explain! Please?!"

The two men looked at each other for a split second. Macallan slowly offered his arm towards the chair in front of his desk. "Okay, then. Let it not be said that I'm not a fair man."

The guards released Wendy, as she stumbled forward. With all possible exits blocked by beefy lookouts, the girl had no choice but to accept the offer. Once seated, she remained on edge, and let out a huge exhale.

"You have one minute."

"Okay…okay…" Wendy patted her jeaned knees as attempted to explain herself. "You're right. I am a fan of OCW. A huge fan. Been ever since I was little kid and used to watch you guys on TV with my dad and little brothers. So, when I heard OCW was coming to town for the first time in years, I was ecstatic!"

She took a breath, as they hung on her every word. "In fact, I used the last of my savings to grab some tickets not just for me, but a couple of my buds as well. I thought that they would love this stuff the same way I do, but instead – my one friend – my boy that I'm super close with – told me that they hated it – that the show was nothing but fake and phony."

"You see, Vic?" Cornfed exclaimed. "From the mouths of babes!"

He lurched forward and rested his cleft chin on his fingertips, "Let her finish…"

Wendy's demeanor grew grim as she told the rest, "…And even worse, he pretty much said that I was a moron for liking it as well…" She looked up to meet Macallan eye-to-eye. "So, I admit it. I acted out. I tried to sneak into the locker room to meet the guys. I mean, I know they're the real deal, and to be honest, I don't know what I was thinking. It's just…"

Her head fell as she mumbled, "It's just…I wish that I had a way to show my little guy how awesome you guys really are; that he could see things the way I do…" Wendy looked upwards, "So, that's it. If you still wanna ban me forever, I totally get it…"

Vic Macallan resumed his prim and proper posture, "Well, that certainly was an interesting tale, missy. And if I may say, it is somewhat…inspiring."

"It's what?!" Wendy and Cornfed said at the same time.

"It's what you were suggesting earlier, Corny. The problem with wrestling today isn't that we need to take it back to the extreme. It's that people don't believe that we're real anymore."

The somewhat-built owner stood up and began to pace behind his desk with his arms crossed behind his back. "When I first started this company decades ago, our motto used to be "where anything can happen." Now, look at us. The damned internet and reporters know our next move before we make it public! How would anyone expect us to convince the harshest of skeptics otherwise?"

"That he is, Vic." Wendy agreed. "That he is."

He stopped in place. "It's Mr. Macallan to you, missy."

"Oops, sorry…"

"As I was saying. What we need tonight is a surprise that'll floor everyone here. Have them talking about this event for weeks! Just imagine the replays on the Network, yet alone the home video sales alone."

Cornfed's face turned a shade of red. "Wait, tonight? Vic, we can't make changes – "

The leader threw his fist on his desk again, making Wendy flinch slightly. "Dammit! Don't tell me what I can or can't do! This is my damn company with my damn wrestlers on my damn show, so I'll do what I damn well please, dammit!"

Russell knew better than to argue. He simply held his hands up and took a step back.

"Okay, then…" Wendy went to stand up. "It sounds like you two have a million details to work out, so I'll see myself out…" She didn't notice that the two guards were standing behind her. They each grabbed a shoulder and pushed her back down into her seat. "Hey! Watch it!"

"Oh," Vic wagged a finger at her as he returned to his fancy-leather chair, "Don't think you're getting off the hook that easy, my dear – pardon me, but I didn't catch the name…"

"Wendy…" she admitted. "But come on! Isn't there anything I can do to get outta this?"

The two entrepreneurs shared another glance before Vic asked, "Anything, you say?"

"Yeah, man." The high-schooler relented. "If it'll get me out of this mess, all you have to do is name it."

Cornfed covered his mouth as he chuckled lightly. Macallan placed his elbows on the desk and moved closer to the unsuspecting intruder.

"Well, then." He fiddled his fingers together as he presented a Cheshire grin, "Perhaps we can make some sort of deal…"

"Alright…" Dipper carefully moved between the rows of seats as the leaning tower of junk food in his hands blocked the majority of his sight. "We got popcorn, peanuts, nachos with extra cheese and jalapenos, a personal pizza with tons of pepperoni, and three extra-large Pitt Colas…"

He sat down, proud that a single ounce hadn't spilled under his watch, and let out a sigh of relief. His sister hastily took a soda from his grasp. "That's good and all - *SLURP!* - but aren't you forgetting something important?"

"Huh?" The boy carefully set the food down. "Well, to be honest, when I asked for anchovies, the pizza guy swore at me, and told me to "git.""

"No, doofus! Wendy!" Mabel said. "Didn't you find Wendy?"

"Find Wendy?!" With his sights cleared, Dipper looked to his left and saw that his secret love's seat was still empty. "Wait, you mean she never came back?"

"You were supposed to look for her, remember?"

"I did, Mabel! I really did." Dipper replied. "But I couldn't find her anywhere out there. I thought she might have come back here."

"No…" Mabel shook her head as scooted back and placed the gigantic soda between her legs. "I hope she's okay…"

With those words muttered, another layer of guilt was added onto Dipper's psyche. He wondered if this was another instance in which his big mouth had gotten him into a world of trouble.

"HA!" He forced out a quiet, nervous laugh. "Of – Of course she's fine. T-T-This is Wendy we're talking about here. We – We haven't the slightest to worry about…" The following sixty seconds without his favorite cashier at his side felt like an eternity. The boils in Dipper's stomach swiftly grew to a prickly feeling that traveled along his skin.

With that, Dipper stood back up, and tried to play it out as nonchalant. "You know that, on second thought, maybe I'll take one last look around…"

Just as he was about to leave, Dipper noticed something going on in the ring below. He raised an eyebrow as countless maintenance men and women were tirelessly building several different structures in and around the main stage.

"Whoa…" He overlooked the strange display. "What's going on down there?"

"Oh, that…" Mabel muffled through a mouth filled with popcorn. "The show's on intermission. They said something about setting up for the main event later tonight."

"Huh…"

The chaotic scene looked as if someone was trying to build a pseudo-building all around the ring. A metal scaffold had been placed on opposite sides of the squared circle. Reaching upwards to over twenty-five feet in the air, the inquisitive boy noticed that there weren't any ladders to climb upon.

Strangely enough, three layers of legless wooden tables held in mid-air beneath the scaffolding platform by heavy-duty steel cabling. Each level consisted of three individual tables tied together from metal railing to metal railing.

In the center of the ring, there were three sets of industrial-sized ladders reaching towards the first set of bound-together tables, hinting at being the only way of accessing them. Across from them, a iron-cast holding chair had been placed in each corner, just below the individual turnbuckle.

Most curious of all, Dipper noted, was that there was a silver metallic ladder on top of the scaffold's platform, reaching out to open air.

A chill raced down Dipper's spine by simply looking at the towering piece of twisted metal and faded chipped wood. He clutched his shoulders, "Ohh! I'd hate to meet the poor sucker that has to climb that thing!"

His thoughts were interrupted by the slight buzzing growing from the speakers that had been placed around the arena:

"And we're back! And wowwy-wow, CA! Just look at that thing!"

"Wow isn't even close to the word I'm looking for, Ty. A horrifying thirty foot monstrosity towering over us and the worst part is that it's not even done yet!"

"It's not what?!"

*WHRRL!*

From the very top of the arena, a four-sided steel cage was lowered down for the world to see. Dozens of workers stood on the scaffold's platform and began to secure it in place above it. Within seconds, the attachment was preciously lined with the ladder protruding from the platform's middle.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the OCW is proud to present in its entirely for the first time ever: the Triple Decker!"

"Triple Decker? Ah, gee, CA. That name gets me in the mood for some old-fashion hamburgers!"

"There'll be time for that later, Ty. This is the idea, folks. Our selected few will begin their journey in the ring, using one of the many ladders given to make their way upwards to the swaying chain of tables hanging overhead. But they'll have to beware. Their opponents have open access to the four folding chairs placed in the stage to aid in preventing their ascension.

"Tables, ladders, and chairs? Oh my!"

"Oh my, indeed, Hoss. But we're not finished yet. From there, our brave soul has to manage their footing as they climb upwards towards the scaffold's center using the numerous rows of tables dangling from those cords."

"I don't like the looks of that, CA. Those lines could snap at any moment…"

"It's not the wiring I worry about, Ty. It's the tables themselves. All it would take is one good body slam and any one of those can snap in two, sending whoever's on it tumbling to the floor below!"

*GULP!* "Now, I really wish you haven't said that…"

"But if someone can make it to the halfway point, they'll have a chance in narrowing the walkway and make it to the ladder leading to the steel cage. Now, Ty, it's important to mention that this is the only way to transverse to the cage as it can be electrified at any given time."

"You heard CA, you bums. No cheating, or else – ZZZZZZ!"

"Finally, if our lucky duck can make it to the door of the steel cage and make it to its center, then they win the grand prize!"

"CA, you make it sound so easy…"

"'Fraid not, Ty. 'Fraid not…"

Dipper turned away from the spectacle and scoffed, "Man, this place gets weirder and weirder by the minute! I gotta find Wendy…" He turned away from the sight and headed back towards the staircase leading away from the stand.

"What the – something's happening up there!"

"Is that a walkway?! CA, a new walkway appeared from the rafters!"

"Somebody! Get a camera up there, stat!"

As Dipper walked away, the massive video screen above his head attempted to focus on the commotion happening fifty feet in the air. Upon seeing the now-clear image, Mabel spit out her soda in shock, and immediately gave chase after her brother.

"Dipper! Dipper, wait!"

The unsuspecting pre-teen couldn't hear her cries due to the clamoring crowd all around him. Just before he reached the exit, Dipper felt himself yanked back by his collar.

*ACK!* "What the – Mabel?"

"Dipper! You gotta – " She bent over to try to catch her breath.

He turned around, "Mabel, I just told you I'll be right back. I'm going to look for Wendy again."

"That's…the…thing…" Mabel grabbed her twin's head and forced it upwards. "Look!"

Dipper squint his eyes as the rest of the arena watched the events unfolded alongside him. "What the - ?"

The screen clearly showed that a tall, slender person with flowing red hair and dressed in lumberjack gear being dragged from the highest point in the arena down the gangway by two burly security guards dressed in navy blue uniforms.

"Is that – is that a girl?"

"I think it is, CA. Do you have any idea what's going on? This isn't anywhere on my format schedules?"

"Same here, Ty. I guess we'll have to wait and see…"

Despite her best efforts, the girl was easily overpowered by her captors. They twisted her arms behind her back and literally lifted her off her kicking booted feet. The three shortly made their way from the walkway onto the cage's foothold. One of the guards briefly left their prisoner's side to open the cage's door.

With a stern push, she was sent flying into the cage. The girl tripped and landed hard on her jeaned knees. With a single bound, she hopped back into her feet and rushed towards the now-shut door. She jiggled the handle, finding that it wouldn't respond.

"Uh-oh! Looks like she's in there good…"

"Hey, camera-crew! I think she's trying to say something! Move in closer!"

From the given height, her shrieks sounded only like a distant echo. With the aid of the TV technology, her voice was made audible, as well as her true identity finally confirmed.

Mabel gasped and covered her mouth with her sweater sleeves, "Ohmigosh!"

Dipper didn't as much as blink as he went on staring at the appalling image before him. His mouth slowly fell as one word came staggering outward:

"Wendy!"

The enraged ginger gripped the bars of her cell with both hands and shook them violently as the security officers disappeared from view. The temporary gangway that bought her into the trap was slowly pulled back, leaving Wendy stranded in mid-air.

"LEMME OUTTA HERE! I DIDN'T AGREE TO THIS! THIS WASN'T PART OF THE DEAL!"

"Who is this mysterious young lady? Why was she locked into the cell hoisted nearly a hundred feet in the air? And what deal is she talking about?"

"I'm not sure, CA. But I have a feeling we'll be finding out shortly…right after these important messages from our sponsors!"