Commissioned by Waldorkler.
Unedited.
Original Prompt:
Dipper and Mabel are an act together. Mabel's a human cannonball, and Dipper's the one to light the cannon. During one performance, too much gunpowder is added to the cannon, blasting Mabel over the horizon, where she vanishes with a twinkle in the sky. She returns a day or two later covered in soot and bruises. Surprisingly, she actually liked it, and thinks it should be a regular part of the act
The sudden rattle of drums brought a hush to the excited crowd. The lights scattered throughout the large tent and arranged on the towering metal scaffolds brightened. A spotlight appeared, revealing a large, glittering cannon painted with intricate abstract designs and stylized flames. Soft at first, music began to play, heavy bass causing the stands to rumble and the rings and ropes that filled the big top to rattle. An assorted set of performers suddenly raced out from backstage, a mix of clowns and acrobats who separated into two groups, leaving an open path between the curtain and the cannon.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Mystery's rumbled into the microphone, "prepare yourselves for one of our finest acts performed by one the true heart and soul of this circus! I must ask that those of you who are faint of heart to turn away lest you be- be-"
Spotlights flashed and focused in on the circus ringleader, standing on tall platform just off to the side of the main stage. Smoke began to flow up around him and new lights flashed, alternating green-red-blue-yellow. Music swelled, pounding out a sudden frantic beat. The audience watched with wide eyes as Mr. Mystery clutched at his head and screamed. His gold accented red fez flew up into the air and light blazed around him, temporarily blinding all who watched.
Darkness fell. And from that darkness, came a laugh. It was low at first, soft, floating out of the darkness. Then, as the light began to return, the laugh grew with it, becoming greater and more maniacal with each passing moment.
"Fools, all of you fools!" The lights flared back to their original level and Mr. Mystery . . . had changed. Instead of his dapper black suit, he now wore a torn and stained brown trench coat with a ragged and loose black tied loosely around his neck. Thrusting black gloved hands into the sky, the man cackled. "You are now at the mercy of Professor Pandemonium!"
The crowd went wild.
Backstage, Stan cautiously peered around the curtain and snorted softly as he watched Ford work the crowd. "Poindexter's rushing 'em," he muttered. "The payoffs not gunna be as good if he doesn't get the rubes in the right state of mind. Ah well."
Turning, Stan scanned the small crowd rushing around doing the behind-the-scenes work of running a circus until he spotted the younger Pines twins. Cutting through the crowd, he hurried over. "You two ready?" he asked once he'd reached them.
"Yes! Definitely! Absolutely!" Mabel beamed. She bounced excitedly from foot to foot, her sparkling pink padded suit squeaking with each rebound.
"The improvements Great Uncle Ford and I made to the cannon are going to be great!" Dipper added, eyes shining with excitement.
Stun grunted. "I'm still not happy that neither of you nerds have told me how exactly it's changed," he grumbled. "I do not like surprises."
"It'll be fine, Grunkle Stan," Mabel reassured him. "Com check?" she suggested, knowing how her grumpy great uncle liked to do his own safety check.
Mere minutes later, Stan was watching from the wings as the twins made their way over to the large cannon Professor Pandemonium was hyping up to the crowd. The other performers continued to dance as the twins reached the towering cylinder. Dipper took up his position at the controls at the end while Mabel expertly climbed up to the mouth of the cannon. Then, balancing on top the tube, she posed, bowing and wave at the crowds. Then she slid feet first into the cannon.
Stan's waited impatiently as the sounds of Mabel getting settled inside the dark interior of the cannon sounded over the headset.
"Okay, I'm ready," she announced after taking several calming breaths. She carefully folded her limbs in, legs together and arms against her sides.
"Ready to launch," Dipper added.
Stan listened to the crowd, judging just how excited the crowd was with an experienced ear. When the cheering and chanting finally reached the volume he wanted, he nodded to himself and gave the order. "Launch."
On the ringmaster's podium, Ford heard the order and got back to work, now roaring out a mix of darkly comedic threats and promises.
Dipper, meanwhile, busied himself with the controls. He flipped the protective cover off a button then hit it, setting off the pyrotechnics that sparked and sizzled around the cannon. Then, he grabbed the launch lever with one hand and pushed back the safety that prevented accidental firings with the other. Without any hesitation, he shoved the launch lever forward, timing it perfectly that the springs and compressed air concealed within the mechanism of the cannon to go off in time with the loudest and flashiest explosions.
Mabel came flying out much faster than ever before. As she emerged, she spread her arms and legs, releasing the multi-color streamers that had been wrapped her. In an instant, she went from a sparkly performing to a living shooting star.
A star that kept flying. And flying. She hadn't even started arcing downwards when she reached the inner wall of the tent-
And went straight through the heavy canvas, disappearing into the night's sky as a twinkling light.
The show went on. Backstage, Soos tackled Stan to keep him from running out and beating the tar out of his brother. Dipper was bundled off stage by a pair of quick-thinking clowns. And Ford, swearing and on panicking inside, kept it together just long enough to bring the show to an end. The crowd, delighted and unaware of just how dramatically wrong the final act had gone, filtered out of the stands and started for their cars.
"Beat me after we find her," were the first words out of Ford's mouth as he raced backstage. He already had a notebook in his hands as he frantically started calculating angles and speed and trajectory.
"Murder," Stan growled, his heart in his throat. "I'm going to murder you. Slowly. Violently." He loomed over Ford, staring down at the notebook clutching his arms against his chest.
"Wendy's already taken one of the trucks in the direction she, uh, she flew," Dipper mumbled.
"Map, I need a map." Wordlessly, Dipper passed his smart phone over to Ford, the map app already loading on the screen.
Muttering curses, Ford looked back and forth between the phone and his notebook, using long fingers to manipulate the screen. "Here, she should land here," he finally concluded. A wild grin crossed his face. "There's a lake!" Pressing his finger down on the screen, he set the location and found the "Share" button. "Wendy has her phone?" When Dipper nodded, he chose the "Message" option. "Send this. Then call her, tell her to head straight there."
It felt like hours passed before Wendy finally pulled back up to the circus, a grinning, dripping wet Mable practically vibrating in the seat next to her.
"Pumpkin!" Stan threw the door of the truck open and dragged Mabel out, hugging her tight. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt?" he demanded, suddenly rearing back so he could look her over.
"Psh, I'm totally fine, Grunkle Stan. Actually, I'm better than fine!" Mabel eyes were wider and more dilated than her family had ever seen. "That was AMAZING! We need to do that every show! Did the crowd like? What did they think?"
"I don't care what they thought," Stan snapped. "We're not doing it again. You may be fine but I'm not."
"Aww."
"No complaints. Now go get changed. And see the medic," he added. "Dipper, go with her." Stan watched as the young twins walked away, Mabel excitedly recounting her flight to Dipper. "Thanks for going after her," Stan grunted, eyes flickering over to Wendy.
"No problem, Mr. Pines," the teen replied. Grinning, she put the truck into reverse. "Better go put this back. Good show, all in all."
The night grew quiet once more as Wendy drove the truck back to the vehicle pool. Standing behind the Big Top, the sounds of the circus closing down for the night seemed to fade away. Stan took a moment to stare up at the stars. Risks were part of circus life, especially with human cannonball acts. But there were ways to mitigate the chance of accidents.
"Get over here, Ford," Stan ordered, not bothering to turn around. "We have a lot to talk about."