A/N: Aaaaaand we're back! I hope everyone's coping in these troubling times, and with any luck, I might be able to bring some levity to them in my own horribly awkward way.
Anyway, without further ado, the latest chapter: read, review and above all, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Gravity Falls is still not mine.
"You want to do what?"
"Relax, Quattro, it'll make sense in a couple of days. I know I'm asking a lot of you and Tracy, but-"
"No, no, I get that: I'm okay with that part. It's just that... why the heck would you want to do this? What are you supposed to do once you're inside?"
"I can't explain everything in case the Queen finds out. All I can tell you is that it's the only way. Grunkle Ford told me to only do something like this as an absolute last resort, and right now, we are deep in last resort territory – major "here be monsters" country. It's a long shot, but it's the best one we've got right now."
"Oh great! The only approach that's going to work is the crazy one! I feel so much better about this!"
"Pipe down, Tracy."
For the second time that summer, Mabel found herself racing through the forest in a golf cart with an army not too far behind. Admittedly, it was the first time she'd done so with two copier clones bombarding her with questions from the luggage compartment and the army was nowhere near as bearable as the gnomes, but as far as Mabel was concerned, you couldn't have everything the way you wanted it.
Mabel was well aware that what she was about to do was perhaps the second-most insanely risky thing she'd done to date, outdone only by the attack on the Fearamid, but by now she was used to this. In fact, she was so high on adrenaline that she was barely even considering the danger to herself anymore (not to mention barely staying in her seat); the only thing that had her slightly worried was the danger posed to everyone else involved with this spectacularly madcap plan. In the end, she could only hope that that Quattro and Tracy were fast enough to outpace the Mabels when it mattered the most; with any luck, the same would apply to the reinforcements she'd soon acquire, as well as…
She shook her head absently. Ah, we'll cross that bridge once it's on fire and about to collapse, I guess.
By now they'd been driving for a little over two minutes, and though they hadn't run into any patrolling Mabels yet, she had a feeling that it would only be a matter of time before the Forger Wasp swarm showed itself: they were heading back to the Mystery Shack, after all, and even if the wasps weren't using it as a base of operations, they'd be keeping an eye on it – especially with all the equipment that Ford had been forced to leave behind there.
They'd taken as many precautions as they could: Mabel had changed her sweater and wore her shirt inside-out, so hopefully any patrols that happened to see them would think she was just another Mabel, while Tracy and Quattro were hunched down low in the luggage compartment with a blanket slung over their shoulders; if they sat still enough, they'd hopefully look like ordinary cargo – and not something likely to drive the Forger Wasps into a fit of rage.
But in the end, the disguises didn't matter all that much – or rather, her disguise didn't matter that much: as long as the blankets stayed on, the cart kept moving and nobody noticed the two copier clones ahead of schedule, and as long as they got there in the next couple of minutes or so, they'd be fine. The key thing was to make sure that the Queen didn't figure out what was going on before Mabel was ready for it, so they had to be constantly racing against the clock in order to stay ahead of her access to Mabel's memories.
So far, everything was going perfectly – or as perfectly as it could, considering the plan hadn't even gotten past stage 2 yet. All in all, there were only two things that had Mabel ever-so-slightly worried, things that this slapdash scheme unfortunately depended on... and both of them were in the Mystery Shack, probably right in the heart of Forger Wasp country. If the Forger Wasps had destroyed either of them, the plan would be ruined.
The first of them was the copier; the second-
"What the hell is that?"
It took Mabel a couple of seconds to recognize what Quattro was talking about: perhaps thirty yards ahead of them, something brightly-coloured was gleaming in the sunlight just past the lowest branches of the nearest trees. Even from here it was immediately apparent that it wasn't anything that belonged – after all, even the gnomes didn't wear anything that garish – but it wasn't until she'd brought the golf-cart to a stop in the undergrowth just to the left of the path that she finally saw what it was.
By now, they were nearing the very edge of the forest, and as the pines gradually dwindled, the three of them saw that they'd finally reached the Mystery Shack: less than twenty feet away, the familiar old building was already creeping into view, resplendent in the morning sun. Under normal circumstances, Mabel would have found it reassuring, even comforting to see the shack still towering proudly over its potholed parking lot, plastic totem pole and mangled lawn. But these weren't even remotely normal circumstances, and as their eyes adjusted to the dazzling sun, it became clear that this was Forger Wasp country, just as Mabel had feared it would be.
Everywhere she looked, her clones had left their mark on the Mystery Shack. The parking lot was now layered in scaffolding, forming crude guard towers and gates all around the building, and each one of them was occupied by a team of grinning Mabels. Razor wire had been spooled along the outer perimeter of the property, and several sections of chain-link fence had already been erected; as for the shack itself, almost every window except for the attic had been covered with a set of thick iron bars, and another team of Mabels were currently fitting the front door with a security gate. And were those bear traps being set up on the lawn?
This wasn't a charming tourist trap anymore, but a fort. Or, if Mabel was right about what her doubles were up to, a prison.
But by far the most unpleasant new addition to the building was the flagpole now topping the highest of the guard towers, for the flag atop it was by far the most infuriating thing Mabel had seen in entire life: it was bright blue and marked with a pair of shooting-star symbols identical to the one Mabel had on her favourite sweater – except one of them was black and neither of them sported the familiar rainbow tails.
The Forger Wasp kingdom now had a national flag.
"Oh man," Quattro muttered. "You're actually planning on going in there?"
"If we're gonna get everyone back to normal, sure."
"How are you even going to get in, though? I mean, I know how we're going to deal with all the defenders, but that still leaves those gates and the bars on the windows."
"The attic window hasn't been barred yet."
"And what if they've put locks on the internal doors as well?" asked Tracy.
"Well, I'll just have to hope I learned enough about lockpicking from Grunkle Stan. Are you ready?"
Quattro took a deep breath. "No," he said grimly, "but we'll do it."
"Just one other thing, Mabel," Tracy added. "What happens if there's still Mabels inside the shack? You'll be caught right away!"
"Well, I guess we'll just have to hope that the Mabels hate you almost as much as Grunkle Ford says, because if we can't kickstart a stampede, we're dead."
"Seriously? And you're relying on us for this?"
Mabel offered a mad, exhilarated and ever-so-slightly desperate grin. "This is your chance to save the world, guys. If Dipper can do it, so can you."
She checked her watch: a little over a minute to go before the Queen figured out what they were up to. "Okay, you two," she said hurriedly, "you've got this. Just make sure they see you and keep driving for as long as the golf cart can keep going. Wish me luck."
Barely pausing for breath, she leaned over and hugged the two copier clones tightly around the shoulders; then, she flung herself out of the golf cart and into the bushes.
A moment went by, as Tracy and Quattro doffed their blanket, clambered into the front seats, and steeled themselves for the biggest challenge of their entire lives. Watching from the undergrowth, Mabel was very glad that the copier clones couldn't sweat, because both of them would already be dead by now. Then, taking near-perfectly synchronized breaths, they gunned the cart's engine and roared towards the Mystery Shack.
Skirting the razor wire and circling the compound at high speed, they roared across the edge of the parking lot, both of them making as much noise as possible – in this case, by singing Ride of the Valkyries as loudly and tunelessly as possible. As expected, Mabels all around the area immediately downed tools to stare at the golf cart as it rocketed past them, and several actually left the Mystery Shack itself to get a look at the intruder (though not before closing the door behind them). Screaming blue murder, Tracy and Quattro thundered along the border between the asphalt and the grass until they were absolutely certain that all eyes in the area were on them.
Then, they ground to a halt.
"HI GUYS!" they roared cheerfully, grinning mirthlessly at the onlookers.
There was a pause, as the guards took in the sight of the two figures sitting in the golf cart; even from here, Mabel couldn't miss the spark of recognition in their identical eyes. Then, as one, the automatic smiles on the faces of the Mabels slowly faded, replaced by uniform glares of something not unlike hatred. In perfect unisons, the lips pulled back, the teeth slid into view, the brows furrowed with rage, and from somewhere behind the gleaming, braceless teeth, a guttural, animalistic snarl issued forth in a blood-curdling chorus of enraged voices.
And with that, Quattro hit the gas pedal, sending the golf cart rocketing across the compound – and not a moment too soon, for the Forger Wasps were already in motion, launching themselves away from their stations and flinging themselves at the cart. They no longer snarled: they screamed, howling at the top of their lungs, blaring an unearthly, metallic shriek of all-consuming, unreasoning hate as they charged after the fleeing copier clones. Even Mabel, who thought she'd seen the worst the Forger Wasps could do, found herself instinctively ducking as far out of view as far she could go. By now, the pursuing Mabels weren't even running on two legs, but galloping on all fours, no longer perfect clones but nothing more than ravening monsters wearing her face.
Fortunately, the two Dippers had a headstart of about thirty feet, and while the golf cart wasn't a patch on the Stanmobile, it was at least fast enough to stay ahead of the swarm. Hurtling across the lawn, they circled around to the Mystery Shack's back door; from here, Mabel couldn't see what was going on, but judging from the distant roar of the engine and the cacophony of voices beyond, she had to assume that the golf cart had plunged back into the forest as planned.
Mabel swallowed hard, hoping against hope that they'd be able to outrun the swarm – or at the very least that they wouldn't kill Tracy and Quattro right away, that the Queen would be able to reign them in just long enough to try and find out what was going on. In the meantime, now that they had done their part, she had to make sure that she did hers.
So, getting to her feet, she made straight for the Mystery Shack, breaking into a run as she reached the perimeter: hopping over the loops of razor wire as best as she could, she wove around the half-finished scaffolding gates, dodged the bear traps and sprinted towards the Shack.
As expected, the doors were both locked, so she simply aimed her grappling hook at the attic window and fired; thankfully, Stan had been as cheap as ever about replacing the glass, and the whole thing shattered instantly on impact. As noisy as it was, at least she didn't have to worry too much about cutting herself as she zipped up the side of the building and scurried into the attic.
Immediately, she saw that the room hadn't been touched: the beds hadn't been made, the belongings were still in place, and – most importantly – nobody had cleared out the junk surrounding her bed. Hopefully, that meant that the second-most important element of the plan was still in place… unless Dabel had pinched it the night before last (but why would she have done that? It wasn't as if it would have been a danger to the clones, right). Almost too nervous to look, Mabel knelt down by her bed, and peered into the gloomy mass of dust bunnies under it.
And there it lay, exactly where she'd left it after Weirdmageddon had come to a close.
The Memory Gun.
Score one for the Gravity Falls, Mabel thought. Let's hope I'm just as lucky when it comes to the next stage of the plan.
Pocketing the gun, she made for the door and headed downstairs. Fortunately, most of the renovation efforts had been focussed on the exterior of the Shack, so none of the doors had been fitted with locks or bars.
Plus, the air vent covers hadn't been bolted down.
No Mabels could be found anywhere in the building, and judging by the open vending machine, most of them had been at work in the basement lab – and Mabel had a funny feeling she knew what they were up to down there. After all, this place already looked like a prison from the outside, and it wasn't as if they'd have gotten rid of Ford's quarantine cells while they still had some use for them, was it?
One look inside Grunkle Stan's office confirmed that the most vital part of the plan was still in place: the copy machine was in place and untouched.
It made some sense to Mabel – after all, the Forger Wasps had destroyed Grunkle Ford's prototypes, but they hadn't destroyed his tools or his laboratory, so maybe it was only the sign of a robot or rival clone that could drive them mad with hatred. For now, though, Mabel wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth; it was time she got to work.
Pausing only to check that there was paper in the machine, Mabel lay down on top of the copier, hit the copy button, and waited for the first of her clones to finish printing. A moment later, one newly-created copier clone was springing to life on the ragged office carpet, wrenching herself free of her sheet of paper and clambering to her feet.
"So this is what it's like to be a copier clone," she said, blinking rapidly as she took in her slightly pallid hands. "Being made of paper feels… I dunno, really lightweight."
Mabel coughed loudly. "Hate to be rude, but there's a plan we've got to talk about."
"I think I know most of it already; I'm you, remember?"
"And you're okay with what might happen?"
"Sure. It's either that or let the Mabels take over the world."
"Great! Then let's keep printing! We've only got a few minutes before the Queen figures out what we're up to, and we've got to have everything ready by then; you keep watch by the windows while I keep printing..."
It took a little over a minute for the copy machine to churn out enough clones for Mabel's purposes, and by then, Mabel knew she had to prepare for next phase of the plan.
So, as the twenty-five copies took up their positions around the Shack, Mabel found herself a comfortable chair and readied herself for the worst. This was the part she really hadn't been looking forward to, but frankly, it couldn't be avoided. This had to be done: everyone was counting on her now, and if the world was to be saved, she'd have to take this final step.
Hopefully, she wouldn't end up too messed-up by what she was about to do next…
Something was wrong.
By now, the latest data pouring in from Mabel's long-term memory was finally trickling in, and the Queen found it extremely troubling: Mabel had been with the two copier clones, had travelled with her to the Mystery Shack, and though she hadn't shared any of the details of her plan with them, the lack of current information was all the Queen needed to change tactics.
With a series of emphatic commands rippling out across the webbing of the hive mind, she ordered a small detachment of drones away from the hunt and sent them swerving back towards the Shack.
What could her host be doing in there? Ford's assimilated memories told her that she didn't have the formula for a cure, and Mabel didn't have skills or the knowledge to create one with the instruments locked away in the basement. So what could she want?
Perhaps this wasn't a plan at all, but simply an act of madness. Perhaps Mabel had finally succumbed to grief and returned to the Shack in the delusional hope that she might find her brother and Grunkles waiting for her; in any case, it'd be a pretty sad scene to walk in on, finding Mabel crying into her brother's pillow and wondering where he'd vanished off to. But for now, it was still only conjecture. Ah, sometimes it was a nuisance to have such limits on her vision: she could read Mabel's long-term memories but she definitely couldn't read her mind or-
The Queen paused, and re-read the incoming stream of information, briefly flummoxed by what she'd just seen. For a moment, she thought she'd misread the data, but looking closer at the information, she saw that it was exactly as she'd seen:
The incoming memories were blank.
One moment, Mabel had been making her way downstairs from the Mystery Shack's attic; the next, nothing.
Suddenly nervous, the Queen reviewed her host's vital signs, briefly gripped by the thought that Mabel might have actually tried to kill or injure herself to the point of brain-death. But no, a quick check of her internal senses revealed that Mabel was indeed still alive and still capable of brain activity. So what could have happened?
She was still wondering this as the first of her troops arrived outside the Mystery Shack – just in time to see a small group of Mabels ziplining out through the attic window and into the forest. In total, she counted no less than fifteen of them.
Surveying the scene from several dozen pairs of eyes, the Queen could see at once that none of the fleeing Mabels were her offspring. They had no place on her psychic web of connections, no resonance within the hive mind… and even if, by some impossible stroke of bad luck, they'd been the property of some other hive, the Queen would have known instantly: the scent of fellow Forger Wasps was unmistakable. No, these were another kind of clone, another bunch of those simpering paper-skinned pretenders she'd just been chasing.
On the upside, this certainly explained what Mabel had been doing inside the Shack. This was either an attempt at a distraction, or a desperate attempt at getting evidence of the invasion to the outside world; either way, it was even less tolerable than Tracy and Quattro: after all, the two Dipper clones could be dismissed as identical twins with schizophrenia, but a whole squad of Mabel clones couldn't be so easily dismissed.
Already, the Queen felt the familiar surge of rage at the sight of a rival imitation… and this time, she felt no need to reign in her troops: with her blessing, the swarm charged after the copier clones, ready to tear them to piece. Unfortunately, the fleeing clones had a very impressive headstart, and rather than trying to escape on foot, they instead took up Mabel's grappling hook and zipped away into the branches of the trees; too late, the Queen realized that the paper doppelgangers had the advantage, for though the grappling hook could only support the weight of two ordinary human children, the copier clones were much lighter – and therefore capable of ziplining in larger groups and at greater speeds.
Grappling from tree to tree, the fleeing clones zipped away across the trees, and by the time the Queen's drones had reached the edge of the forest, the rival Mabels were already vanishing into the distance. Furious, they charged after them, some even leaping into the trees after them, but the Queen knew there wasn't much they'd be able to do: continued pursuit would not suffice, nor was it necessary with so many other drones so close at hand. But even if the Queen couldn't corner or ambush them, any attempts to flee the area would only lead them straight into the border guards she'd set up during the night. One way or the other, the rival duplicates would be eliminated long before they found help.
As the hunt went on, a handful of the Queen's drones split off from the main swarm and made their way inside the Mystery Shack, looking for any sign of Mabel herself. By now, the Queen expected to find nothing more than an empty house and an extremely well-used copier; after all, now that she'd made use of her final gambit, she wasn't likely to stick around to admire her handiwork. Logic suggested that she'd either be fleeing amongst her paper doppelgangers, or using them as a distraction while she made her own escape into the forest.
So it came as something of a surprise when her search party found Mabel fast asleep on the couch in front of the TV.
The memory gun was still in her hand.
A/N: Care to guess what'll happen next? Feel free to theorize away!
This chapter's soundtrack is We Go Forward by Marco Beltrami.
And now for the riddle:
Zg ozhg dv szev blf yzxp ztzrm
Dv mld xzm vmw lfi orggov tznv
Hl qfhg orv yzxp zmw hovvk zdzb
Dsrov dv yirmt gsv vmw lu wzbh
