And here we go...
Chapter I: How It All Began
It just didn't make sense.
Dipper Pines sat at the kitchen table, looking over a collection of scraps and notes he had made over the past week. All of it was related to very strange goings on in the town – even by Gravity Falls standards.
It had begun about five days ago, the day after Woodstick. Stan had been answering difficult questions from the police about his hot air balloon, so Dipper and Mabel had ventured outside to do some exploring. When they'd returned, they had found that Dipper's notes on the Author's identity had vanished.
That was only the first in a line of odd disappearances around the town. The next day, the library had been robbed – the day after that, it was the museum, and the next day it was the Northwest manor. Naturally, the last one was the only one that got any serious police attention. In every case, there was no sign of a culprit, no sign of any disturbance – even security cameras never showed anything out of the ordinary.
This made Dipper's attempts to find the culprit rather difficult, to say the least.
Dipper chewed on his pencil as he grasped in his mind for any possible explanation. Nothing immediately came to mind.
"Hey bro, what'cha doing?"
Mabel sauntered into the room, carrying Waddles in her arms. She sat down on the other side of the table, looking over Dipper's work.
"I'm trying to find out who stole my notes," replied Dipper, wearily. "But so far, I've got nothing! It's like we got robbed by a ghost or something..."
"You gonna need me to get out the lamb costume, Di..."
"No."
Dipper sighed and rubbed his temples.
"I just need to know where my notes are," he muttered. "I mean, anybody could be reading them right now..."
"...yeah, and they might find those letters you wrote in the..." Mabel began.
"Mabel," grunted Dipper.
Mabel chuckled.
"Don't worry, Dipping Sauce," she reassured. "Whoever took them probably forgot they had 'em ages ago. Besides, you can replace them, can't you?"
"Yeah, but...but this guy got into the Shack without anybody noticing," reminded Dipper. "They got past Stan, Soos and the co...Stan and Soos! They've gotta be some kind of genius, or a cat burglar..."
"...or a cat person!" exclaimed Mabel.
"You might have a point, I'll check the Journal," mused Dipper, reaching for it and opening it up.
"Kids! I need someone to do manual labour for me!"
Stan walked into the room, carrying a small basket.
"Not it," said Dipper.
"Not i...ah, dang it!" exclaimed Mabel.
"First come, first served," shrugged Stan. "Mabel, I need something to fill up the gift shop. Go out and find some berries or something. Try to check if they're poison, but really I don't care."
"Can I take Waddles?" asked Mabel.
"Sure, why not?" shrugged Stan. "Gets him out of my hair for a while."
Mabel cheered and ran up to the attic to fetch the pig carrier, Waddles at her feet. Stan raised an eyebrow before leaning over Dipper.
"Any luck finding the guy that robbed us?" he asked.
"Nope," sighed Dipper, "nothing."
"Well, tell me when you've got something," replied Stan. "I want him found before he tries to steal something important, like my merch!"
He walked away, arms crossed.
"Gee, thanks, Grunkle Stan," muttered Dipper.
He sighed again and looked over the notes once more.
"Come on, there's gotta be something in here," he muttered.
He stared down for a few seconds before growling and clutching his hair.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "I need some air."
He got up and walked outside.
Soos was at the grocery store, picking up Shack necessities that Stan was too lazy to collect himself. He was humming merrily to himself and making a little dance out of packing his cart with tinned meat.
"Do de do de do," he hummed, "putting the groceries into the cart, singing about it for no reason..."
"...no, no, I don't think you get what I'm saying, you dunces..."
Soos heard a voice from not far away. Slowly, he backed up to the end of the isle, leaning out towards the registers. A man in a grey suit was gesticulating wildly at Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland.
"I'm looking for someone," the man was saying. "Black hair, black clothing, black everything..."
"Y'all mean like some kinda Men in Black thing?" quizzed Durland.
"No, she's a woman," replied the man, his tone testy. "My benefactors in the Bureau believe she's responsible for the robberies you've been experiencing."
Soos suppressed a gasp.
"Sorry," shrugged Blubs, "we ain't seen nothin'. Right now we're chalkin' the Northwest robbery to marauding beavers."
"Marauding beavers?!" exclaimed the man.
"Saves time on investigatin'," shrugged Blubs.
The man pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Alright," he grunted, "clearly you're not going to help me. Is there anywhere I can go for answers on this?"
"Well, there's the Mystery Shack," shrugged Blubs. "Reckon you'll get some help from that there Mr. Mystery fella."
"Plus you can see the Sascrotch!" exclaimed Durland.
The man shot Durland a glare.
"Well, I'll take what I can get," he grunted. "A pox on both your houses."
He turned and walked away.
"What a nice man," said Durland.
Soos raised his eyebrows as the man left.
"Gasp," he said, vocalising the word. "A clue."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Time for me to practice my tailing skills," he declared.
He walked after the man, singing quietly to himself.
"Secret Agent Soos, Secret Agent Soos..."
Dipper sat on a tree stump out in the woods, reading through the journal with the black light. It was a nice day – the sun shone, the birds sang and the air was clean. It was doing wonders for Dipper's mood, but he still felt a mild frustration at his lack of leads.
"There's gotta be something in here," he grunted. "I mean, this Journal's never failed me before..."
He rubbed his hand through his hair.
"Ugh, if only there was some kind of sign!" he groaned.
Just then, in the breeze, he heard a faint whistling sound.
"Well," nodded Dipper, "that was convenient."
He got up from the stump, looking in the direction of the whistling. Slowly, he crept up towards a tree and peeked out from behind it.
A large man in a fireman's jacket was walking through the trees, an axe axe over his shoulder. He was whistling to himself, glancing left and right as he disappeared into the growth. Dipper raised an eyebrow.
"Well, that's not suspicious at all," he muttered.
He followed the stranger into the bushes.
Stan stood beside the counter at the Mystery Shack, reading a newspaper as he waited for a sucker to arrive. Next to him, Wendy was slouched over the counter, tapping idly on the wooden surface.
There was a dull oink, and Waddles jumped onto the desk.
"Hey dude," said Wendy, rubbing Waddles' head.
"I thought I said that pig wasn't allowed on the counter," snapped Stan. "I don't want his pig germs on my money..."
He paused, scratching his chin.
"Wait, if Waddles is here, then...then who's with Mabel..."
His eyes widened.
"Oh no!" he exclaimed. "We have two pigs!"
Mabel was rummaging through a bush, picking random berries and alternating between throwing them in a basket and eating them. One or two ended up in Waddles' mouth.
"Ah, what a beautiful day," she sighed. "The sun is shining, Waddles' flesh is rippling in the breeze, the grass is..."
She trailed off.
"...wait, what?"
Her eyes widened as Waddles began to change form, standing on his hind legs as he grew taller. Like a grotesque mockery of a claymation, he formed into the shape of a woman.
The woman was tall and would probably be described as immensely beautiful, were it not for that fact that her skin was a bit too pale. Raven-black hair ran down to her ankles, and she was clad in a dark grey dress. Blood red eyes gazed down into Mabel's, whose mouth hung open.
"Oh my gosh," she breathed. "Waddles is a werewoman. All my dreams have come true."
"Mabel Pines," said the woman, her voice laced with an Irish brogue. "Finally, we meet in the flesh."
"Ooh, and you're so creepy, too," nodded Mabel. "Is this your Summerween form, Waddles?"
"That is not my name," replied the woman. "I am the Morrigan."
"Can I call you Morrie?" asked Mabel.
"No," replied the Morrigan, "You may not."
She sneered.
"Actually," she said, "you may call me something else."
Her form began to shift again. Mabel's eyes widened as the Morrigan took on a very familiar form, her height shortening by half in the process.
"You may call me Mabel," said the Morrigan, her voice and body a perfect imitation of Mabel's.
"Wow," breathed Mabel. "Now I have a real twin! ...Sorry, Dipper."
She skipped over to the Morrigan, putting an arm around her shoulder.
"So, what're we gonna do, Mabel 2?" asked Mabel. "Go freak out Dipper? Cover the whole Shack with stickers? Prank call Gideon in jail?"
"Actually, Mabel, I'm afraid I've made you a little...redundant," replied the Morrigan, her face twisting into a very uncharacteristic sneer.
"Redundant?" quizzed Mabel.
"Oh, I assure you it's nothing personal," replied the Morrigan. "It's just that I need something from your little Shack...and someone out of the way."
"Out of the way?" demanded Mabel. "Wait, no, that's not how a Mabel works! Waddles, you stop this right..."
"My name is not Waddles," reminded the Morrigan. "In fact, right now it is Mabel Pines."
"But I'm Mabel Pines!" exclaimed Mabel.
"You were," nodded the Morrigan. "But not anymore."
"What do you..."
The Morrigan pointed and uttered something in a language Mabel didn't understand. There was a sudden bolt of purple, and Mabel was blasted against a tree. Strangely, the impact didn't hurt, and when she landed, everything seemed much larger than it had been before. The Morrigan towered over her, crossing her arms as she looked over Mabel's slumped form. Mabel tried to ask what had happened, but her mouth would not move.
"Although you do make a good impression of me," the Morrigan sneered.
She conjured up a mirror and held it up. If Mabel's jaw responded to her commands, it would have dropped.
She had turned into a small plush doll, apparently hand stitched, with no fingers. Her eyes had been replaced by small brown beads, and her mouth was nothing more than a stitched black line. Her hair was made of the same kind of fabric as her body and shaped into a reasonable facsimile of her normal style.
"Well," said the Morrigan, throwing the mirror away, "I must be off. I'm sure someone will claim you eventually, if the birds don't eat you first. Nobody will miss you, in any case."
She turned around.
"Anyway, back to the Shack," she declared. "Stanford Pines won't kill himself."
She chuckled as she vanished into the trees, leaving a scared and stranded Mabel alone.
Still, she thought, At least I'm adorable. Glass half full, you know?
JVY KOOK GVO ROHYZ QY - AOQUPW KOOP JO JVYCJLYK PYCL EOI
AN: On the bright side, at least it's not Mark Hamill this time.
