A/N: Just as a reminder, I do not own anything of Gravity Falls, especially its characters. If I can claim ownership for anything, it would be aspects of the later plot that I cannot actually describe to you at that moment. This is an alternate universe to some degree, and those bits that differ (or should I say... Dipper?) from canon are purely my own. Again, I thank ChaosInventor and WyvvernTooth for inspiration and writing help. As I write this, my dear cousin is withholding a baked good until I write sixty words. So, if the ending of this chapter is a little rushed, it is for the love of a baked good.
Gravity Falls, Oregon was a quiet town when it came to news that reached the outside. Nothing seemed too extraordinary about the place, having only a limited amount of crime or scandals that spread somewhere outside the reach of an early grave or a convenient bribe. If anyone would say that the town itself was abnormal, no one on the outside would be inclined to believe it. As for the residents themselves, they would not be able to reply with anything more than a stiff smile and a sharp nod. After all, no one from the outside would believe what they had to say, and they wouldn't survive the telling of it.
The only place in the town where tongues could afford to wag and secrets could afford to spill was Kristy's, a run down little bar that had been there longer than most of the residents, and whose drinks were only proven legal after four years of debate. It was Friday, and the busiest day for the small business. Townsfolk that hadn't been seen in weeks would pull themselves out of their huts and slip into the bar for the weekly special, no matter what mind-numbing substance it contained that week. On bad weeks, where the town had put significant stress on the residents, people would pop in and out of the rickety place all day and well into the night as a celebration of the weekend. That particular week was definitely a bad week.
A beautiful woman by the name of Kristy Evans worked at the counter of the bar, serving up drinks almost before the customer had ordered them. Kristy definitely caught the attention of many customers without even trying, and she didn't bother hiding that her help brought in much more customers than had come in before. Although she had been a wild tomboy as a child, the young Kristy had grown into quite the seductive woman. She was tall, with olive skin and sleek black hair that fell down her back in natural curls. Just a look at her blood red lips, pulled into a small smile, would make many a man's heart skip a beat. Despite having the looks to seduce an army, however, the young woman preferred the latest gossip and town worries to sex.
"Hey Stan," the raven-haired woman called over the early evening crowd, turning towards the door. Her emerald eyes twinkled as a customer slipped in the door, stumbling slightly as he entered into the bar. "Did you hear that Tad's business trip has been extended?"
The man known as Stan wasn't as attractive as the lovely bartender behind the counter. In fact, anyone who claimed such would immediately be taken in for a mental examination. Instead of a young, energetic man walking through the bar, there was an old man with gray hair and thick glasses. A too-wide, sleazy smile slapped was across his face almost permanently as if it was its job to be there. No one in the bar seemed too surprised at the man's presence, merely shaking their heads and returning to their conversations.
"Good morning, Kristy," Stan said with a laugh. "Yeah, I heard about that from Lazy Susan. You have any idea what a guy like that would be doing away from town for so long?"
"I have no idea," the bartender said with a shrug. Despite her casual tone and behavior, worry sparked beneath the surface of her eyes. "But i'm sure everything is fine. I mean, he's the most normal guy around, right? So maybe he just missed his flight."
"Missed his flight? I don't think so. The guys up top have been pretty stirred up recently. Something about a failed experiment, or something. And Tad was acting kinda weird before he left. So..." The man let his words hang in the air for a moment. The true meaning hit home in the heart of the young woman without any additional words needed.
Making sure to seem casual, the raven-haired woman reached for another glass. "Oh, so you think they're trying that thing again?"
"I wouldn't put it past them," interjected another voice from the right of Stan. The newcomer was thin with lanky black hair that was riddled with gray streaks. Black bags hung under her eyes from years of overwork and fear. "Bud has been much more aggravated lately,"she continued in a wavering voice that could barely be heard over the noise. "If they were going to do that again, then it would most likely be today."
All around the bar, clever people with sensitive ears nodded along with the older woman's words. "It makes sense," an elderly old man warbled from his corner. 'They have been a bit shifty lately."
"Oh, right, I just remembered," Kristy chirped, suddenly distracted from the somber conversation. "Hey, Stan, weren't your grand-nephew and niece supposed to be coming to stay with you today?"
"'The Mystery Shack'? What kind of place is this?" Dipper stood outside an old cabin boldly emblazoned with the words 'Mystery Shack' upon the roof. A calculating look shone on the small boy's face as he stared at the building.
Despite the peaceful look of the clearing surrounding the shack, the actual building seemed to be either an absolute mess, or just a bit creepy. Most of the windows on the house had the shape of a triangle with an eye worked into them, as if it was completely normal. Rather than normal, it made the poor place look like the ideal house for an Illuminati member, or just a believer. On top of that, the entire place looked worn and beaten down by time.
The once-clean porch was dusty, although not so dusty that it was clear that no one went in nor out. The door barely hung on its hinges from the brutish crowds that came in without any regard for the property of another. Stains from grubby hands and dye-filled sweets plagued the wood on the outside of the home, and anything else children could touch. Time had won the war against the old house, even when it still pulled in crowds like a magnet. Looking at the place from that perspective, dipper couldn't help but feel almost pity for the place, even if it wasn't sentient to feel pity for.
"I think it looks great," Mabel chirped optimistically from behind Dipper.
Startled, the boy whipped around to face his sister. Grass was stuck on her sweater and in her hair as she lay on the yard in front of the shack. The grass on either side of her was flattened down, as if the girl had rolled over it for some time. It wouldn't have been out of character for her to do so, Dipper mused. After all, she often acted far younger than she actually was.
"Great?" Dipper decided not to comment on the wild girl's behavior in favor of addressing her delusional words. "It looks about to fall down. I know you're optimistic, Mabel, but look-" As he spoke, Dipper had turned around to face the little wooden house again. However, what he saw stopped him from even completing his thought.
Now Dipper was certain that he was either seeing things or just plain insane. he was certain that he had seen warped wood, chipped paint and crumbling tiles adorning the house. However, there was no such thing on the place that he saw right at the moment. In fact, the wooden structure was positively sparkling. everything was in top shape, and meticulously cleaned. It made no sense how in the world the appearance of a place could change so quickly. however, some part of Diper didn't want to question it. Did it really matter in the long run, anyway?
"Uh... Never mind. I guess it does look nice, Mabel," Dipper conceded. Try though he did, he couldn't keep the shell-shocked tone out of his voice. He wasn't yet that good of an actor.
"It looks so homey! I bet that a lot of cute guys come to shop here! With a trap like this, I'll have a million hot vampire boyfriends!" Mabel laughed out loud almost manically at her statement, something unnameable shining in her eyes. "This is great!"
"Uh... Good luck with that Mabel," the calmer twin said worriedly. The creepy things about cheerful Mabel stopped getting to him, even after twelve years of living together.
"Oh, so you like the old place, huh? I try to keep 'er fixed up!" Suddenly, a third voice had joined the conversation, even though no footsteps preceded the man's entrance. The voice was loud and excited, and definitely that of a man's. Unfortunately, the sudden appearance of the speaker nearly scared the poor boy out of his skin.
With a pounding heart and crawling skin, Dipper whipped around to face the newcomer, eyes wide with fright. "Oh! Um- Um, hello! Who- Who are you again?"
Mabel, not paying attention enough to notice her brother had spoken, bounded up to the man. She barely came up to his waist, but her cheerful nature created an aura that made it seem as if she dwarfed the gray-haired man. Dipper doubted she could even see up to his face, but she didn't seem to care at all. Instead of showing any apprehension, the girl seemed to be familiar with the man. A bright grin lit up her face like the morning sun lit up the sky at the break of dawn.
"Hi Grunkle Stan," she said with a wide grin. "My name is Mabel, and that's my twin brother Dipper! We're your great-niece and nephew, remember? Mom gave me a picture of you, but it was a really, really old one! Look at this!"
The poor man in front of her opened him mouth in response, but didn't get far enough to actually form a single word. His bushy eyebrows had shot up to rest above his thick-rimmed glasses, uncertainty lurking in his expression. Seeming extremely unsettled, the old man finally grabbed the picture out of Mabel's frantically waving hand and held it in front of his face. The man squinted at the picture, holding it even closer to his gaze for inspection. After a mere moment, however, it was roughly shoved right back at Mabel.
"Yeah. Well, that was a long time ago, like you said. Come on kids, let's get inside. Sorry I wasn't here to meet ya. Your room is open for you to dump your stuff."
With that, the man known as Stanford Pines sharply turned on his heel and strode into the immaculately clean Mystery Shack. An excited Mabel quickly followed, dragging her bright pink suitcase behind her. Dipper, however, didn't follow. The boy stood in the wake of his family members, staring blankly at the pair as they went. Behind the blank expression, gears were whirring a mile a minute. It was almost inhuman, the speed that the young boy's mind worked. After all those calculations and double-checks, there was left only one thought in Dipper's mind:
Something is going on, and I need to find out what.