A/N : Yellow everyone. Welcome to my first Gravity Falls fanfic. (Midnight's Haze bullied me into uploading the prologue. *shakes fist* I'LL GET YOU BACK FOR THIS HAZE!) Before we get started (in other words: where you start reading) lemme explain this prologue just a bit. I have an OC named Bill (named 'im after Bill Cipher I did) who will occasionally make appearances. He is the Master of Thought Process in my head and has similar reality altering powers that Bill Cipher does. Similar. Not exactly the same. Cipher is a dream demon, MY Bill is not. So in this story they're gonna be sort of like business partners. Hope that's clear. Also, it's hard to write both of these guys in a single scene (same name and blahblablah). I hope you don't get very confused. That's all from me right now. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I am a 17-year-old idiot at a laptop, and have no official rights to the original characters created by Alex Hirsh, our Lord and King. All of the characters are copyrighted to him, and I have no ownership of them. Only my OC's and crazy plot lines. Let's get this party started.

Prologue: An Emergency Tea Party

Bill never expected house calls. After all, he was the Head of Thought Process (literally). How in the hypothalamus did one get house calls or regular calls anyways, especially when you're a figment of someone's thoughts? You didn't, pure plain and simple. Yet, on one of the few days off that Bill had, his phone rang. It was an old rotary (Bill was an old-fashioned kind of guy, even for tech that was only supposed look showy- like a damn phone) he picked up at a thrift shop. It wasn't supposed to ring. But it was now.

Bill's obsidian eyes stared angrily at the object as the receiver end rattled against its stand. The book he was reading snapped shut (a copy of Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman) and he approached the phone, gingerly picking up the receiver. He first heard static on the other end.

"Hello?" he said into it. There was no answer. For Conscience sake there shouldn't be in the first place! It wasn't a real phone! Bill considered hanging up. The static on the phone cleared a bit. Then there was a voice.

"Bill? Hello? Damn it stupid connection, nothing works anymore," it said. If Bill had any blood (he didn't) it would have run cold. The speaker on the other end sounded almost exactly like him. A more…mechanical and auto-tuned version of his voice, granted, but still too similar.

"…Bill?" he said hesitantly. The static amount lowered again before his correspondent answered.

"There we go, sorry 'bout that buddy. Cross-dimensional calls aren't exactly working properly here," Other Bill said. Bill narrowed his eyes in confusion. Original Bill, mind you. The one with the "phone-that-works-but-shouldn't-cause-its-not-a-real-phone". There hadn't ever been any connection trouble before. Then again, no one ever called him on his non-home phone before either. There were firsts for everything he guessed.

"Bill, what do you want? No, more importantly how the hell did you get this number, this isn't even a real phone it shouldn't have a number!" He said angrily into the device. There was a sigh on the other end as Other Bill replied, "I know, and I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't important. Look, we need to talk in person. You gotta trust me on this." Bill pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

"Damn it, I'm on vacation. This better be big Bill," he said.

"It is,"

Bill found himself half an hour later sitting at a nice outdoor-type café with a porcelain cup half filled with a dark brown tea. Across from him, was his…sort of friend (more like business partners in actuality) Bill. This Bill however, was a dream demon. Both Bills were at a place the dream demon had conjured up in the universal mindscape. Everything else around them was mostly abyssal white, with odd bits and ends floating randomly around. All of those objects were devoid of color, including the café. Bill sipped at his tea thoughtfully, savoring the bitter taste of it. An old radio (1950's era he guessed) floated by him, giving out the occasional blip of radio static and some broadcasts in between. Through the static one could vaguely hear, "but first, predeceased, I give you the weather" in a menacing tone before it passed out of hearing range. Bill swirled his cup, watching the old radio move along.

"Alright, so what was so urgent you called my vintage and non-working phone and got me out of a well-earned vacation?" he said taking another sip of his drink. The floating triangle in front of him snapped his fingers. A screen appeared beside them, showing some old town. It was daytime in the footage, and little dark figures that appeared to be people where going about their usual business. Nothing unusual it seemed.

"What am I looking at Bill?" the figment of thought asked in a tired voice.

"Gravity Falls," Bill replied. Another snap and the screen cut to an old house in the woods. Bill the Figment placed his cup on the table, narrowing his eyes at the image. It was vaguely familiar.

"I've seen this somewhere before," he murmured, racking his brains to remember where.

"I'm sure you have. Now, the images that I've shown you are from a few days ago," the demon said. More images flicked one after another on the screen. Same town, same normalcy.

"Then what's the big issue?" Bill asked. There was an unnatural pause. Bill looked over at the triangle demon, who seemed…distressed. No, he didn't look distressed. He looked concerned. Was this Bill even capable of feeling an emotion like concern? He was capable of anger, everyone knew that. The demon even had a strange sense of humor. But concern didn't seem like it was part of the spectrum.

The look was gone in a flash, and Bill snapped his black fingers again. This time, there was static on the square screen.

"This is real-time footage of Gravity Falls. For once, I can't see what's going on in real-time," Bill said. His fingers tapped against the table. The other Bill was simply staring at the black and white spotted screen, color inverted eyes blank.

"You've always been able to see real-time haven't you?" he asked. The demon nodded, still drumming against the table.

"What about other places besides the town," he continued. Bill shrugged. "They're not as interesting, but I'm getting the same kind of static, just in less focus. If I were to change to say, Burma," the screen changed to said place. A jungle setting could be seen, though there was a less opaque smattering of the same black and white static.

"I've done some checking. The farther from Gravity Falls, Oregon, the less amount of static. There's always some, but it's more concentrated the closer you get to the town," he explained.

"So you think something's going on in the town?" Bill asked, still staring at the screen, which had switched back to the heavily spotted one that should have pictured Gravity Falls.

"I know something's happening. I've always been able to see that town Bill, always. There has to be interference of some kind that's counter-acting my powers," he said in frustration. His black fingers tapped against the table harder. The other Bill had leaned forward in his chair, intent on the screen. The demon rolled his eye and continued his tapping. Tap, tone. Pause, tap-tone-tap. Another pause, and the same rhythm repeated. Tap tap, pause, and three taps. The other Bill's eyes widened.

"Bill, why are you tapping that rhythm?" he asked quietly. The sound stopped. Both Bills looked at each other, one with growing understanding, the other a little confused. He looked at his black hand and said, "I don't know,"

"You have a remote for this screen thing?" The other Bill suddenly asked. There was a flash of blue fire, and he was holding a small black remote. Non-Demon Bill fiddled with the buttons on it, until the sound of static was slowed down considerably. Both could make out a bunch of tones, long and short, in the background of the static. It was a message. Out of his black waistcoat, the non-demon extracted a pen and pad, and began jotting down the tones. There was nearly a minute of silence from the screen. Then the rhythm started again. Bill put down dots and lines on the pad. The screen once again went to a minute long lapse of silence. That must have been the message. Demon Bill floated over the table to look at what his "friend" had put down.

.- .-. .-. .. ...- .- .-..

"I don't get it," the demon said after a while. Bill face-palmed, wondering how he could even call himself "all-knowing".

"Its morse codes you Dorito," he explained. The other rolled his eye in exasperation. "Yeah, yeah, but what's it mean?" They both stared at the series of dots and lines scribbled on paper. Both of them tried deciphering it mentally, coming up with different answers, none of which made any sense. As they worked (not exactly as a team, mind you) they failed to notice a darker blotch of static slowly appearing on Bill's real-time Gravity Falls channel. It grew bigger, taking on a human silhouette. The tones started again, but unbeknownst to the Bills, it was different this time.

- .. - . / ... ... .- .-.. .-.. / . -. -.. / .. -. / -.. .- .-. -.- -. . ... ...

A/N: I love cliffhangers, don't you? Alright, tell me what you think. I've been paranoid about this prologue for ages, so give me some mental relief guys. Next chapter will be up when I've completed my second mental paranoia, and it'll get into some other characters as well. First person to identify the radio station that transmitted the "but first predeceased I give you the weather" quote, and deciphers my messages gets a high five and a mention in the next update. Thank.