A/N: Aaaaaargh! Adrenaline rush from wriitng this combined with nerves and stress and WAAAGH!
Ahem, excuse me - little bit carried away there. Anyway, I hope everyone's safe and well, and I hope I can bring a tiny bit of levity to these troubled times if nothing else.
Without further ado, the latest chapter: read, review, and above all, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own madness.
"Mabel? Mabel? Are you awake in there?"
Someone was shaking her, gently patting her face as they tried to rouse her from what had been a very pleasant sleep. Groaning, Mabel muttered a few noncommittal good mornings, rolled over on her side, pulled the blanket over her head and tried to ignore the voice from above. But unfortunately, the voice could not be so easily dissuaded: if anything, the taps and shoves only grew more insisted – and a good deal less gentle. And then that eerily familiar voice spoke again, always eluding recognition no matter how hard she tried to focus her sleep-fogged brain on it.
"Oh Maaaaaaa-bel? Wakey-wakey, eggs 'n' bakey, rise and shine." There was a giggle from somewhere on the edge of hearing, and the voice added, "Well, maybe not so much bakey. There's only one pig around here, and he's going to be keeping you happy for a long time yet. A very long time."
There was a heartstopping pause as Mabel belatedly recognized the voice, and the events of the last day came flooding back into her brain – minus one very notable absence. With one almighty lurch, she sat bolt upright in bed, flinging aside the blankets as she catapulted herself into full consciousness. It had been a very long time since she'd ever gone from sleeping to wide awake so suddenly, and she immediately found herself taking in details at a speed she would have found challenging without at least a glass or two of Mabel Juice.
Firstly, she was sitting on a small cot in one corner of a large glass-windowed cell; the cot was layered in warm blankets and soft pillows, and a thick carpet had been added to the floor, but it was a cell nonetheless. Secondly, this glass cube was clearly a modified version of the containment cell that Grunkle Ford had set up for Dabel and Sabel, and like those same cubicles, it was sitting right at the back of the basement lab. Thirdly, from what she could see through the windows, Ford's laboratory was still in working order – and had actually been improved from the looks of things, with new equipment, new machines and new experiments everywhere she looked. Fourthly…
She was surrounded by Mabels.
Everywhere she looked, Mabels were at work, running experiments, fixing machinery, preparing food, monitoring her life-signs, gathering medicine, or just keeping a close eye on her cell. Remembering the flag she'd seen flying over the Mystery Shack, Mabel's heart gave an unpleasant wobble: the Forger Wasps had not only made Grunkle Stan's tourist trap paradise into their base of operations, but they'd done the same to Ford's lab – and in both cases, they'd scrubbed away all signs of the original owner's personality. Here and now, this lab might as well have belonged to a complete stranger.
For good measure, there was a Mabel standing directly over her, smiling wider than ever. For some reason, she appeared to be a wearing a child-sized black suit.
Furthermore, the cell door hadn't been opened, so there was no chance for Mabel to make a run for it – not that she'd have been able to get very far with all the Mabels at work around her. For the time being, she was trapped.
But this had been part of the plan. The question was, had the plan worked?
Meanwhile, the Mabel standing over was tut-tutting disapprovingly. "Really, Mabel, what were you thinking? Using the memory gun on yourself? You know what that does to people's brains in the long run. Why would you risk brain damage just for the sake of a few copier clones?" The smile broadened, and something in the Mabel's eyes turned cold and predator. "Or maybe I should ask something more important: what were you trying to hide from us, Mabel?"
Mabel didn't answer.
From the moment this mad idea had occurred to her, she'd known for a fact that it would only work if she was imprisoned and if the Forger Wasp Queen didn't have any memories of the prep session to analyse. There was now a gaping hole in her memories, spanning from the point when she'd entered the Mystery Shack that morning to the moment she'd awoken, so she had to assume everything had gone according to plan. After all, she wouldn't have erased her memories of the event if she hadn't been absolutely sure that the copier clones were ready and in position?
But how would she know now that she'd erased her memories of the event? She wouldn't be certain of anything until the final stage of the plan was in play… unless of course, the Queen figured out what was going on, in which case Mabel would know much sooner. One way or the other, she'd just bought herself a one-way ticket to uncertainty hell.
As if sensing her anxiety, the clone standing over her immediately switched approach, shifting from searching to cajoling in the space of a second. "Nevermind," she clucked. "We'll find out for ourselves sooner or later. We've already got search parties scouring the forest for your little gang of copier clones; they'll be caught long before they get anywhere near the highway, just like Tracy and Quattro. In the meantime, you really need to start taking better care of yourself, Mabel. All this running and fighting and stressing and worrying over things you'll never change, it's really not good for you – and now this business with the memory gun? It's just as well we caught you before those copier clones could whisk you away, otherwise you could have really hurt yourself." She giggled, stroking Mabel's hair. "But all that's in the past: we're going to take care of you, now. We're going to keep you safe and happy for as long as you live."
"And maybe longer than that," said another Mabel.
"Much longer," chortled another.
"And longer still."
Mabel knew the plan from here on: assuming everything had worked out and the Forger Wasps hadn't realized that there were more copier clones than they'd seen leaving the building, she was to keep as quiet as possible until the final stage of the plan. In fact, it'd be better to remain completely silent. By now, Mabel knew herself well enough: the more she talked, the bigger the risk of her accidentally letting something important slip. But all the same, her curiosity had been well and truly piqued.
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"I thought it was pretty obvious, Mabel," said the nearest of the duplicates. "You're going to be with us forever and ever and ever: you'll outlast your own species, your planet, your sun and maybe even your universe if we have our way. You'll remain young and healthy even as stars and galaxies burn away into nothing, and even when entropy finally overtakes this little world, you'll still be with us, still alive, still exactly as you were the day we met you all those millions of years ago." She giggled. "And through it all, we'll be able to keep you safe and contented in ways that mere humans never could: we'll even be able to preserve Gravity Falls for you long after Roadkill County's gone the way of the dodo, even recreate it from scratch if we have to – right down to the happiest summer of your life, a perfect moment frozen in time for all eternity. You wait and see, Mabel: you can't even imagine how happy you'll be with us."
"I hate to break it to you guys, but you're not in whatever weird alien dimension you came from and you don't have the kind of tech you had back there," Mabel said coldly. "You won't have forever with me; you won't have millions – you won't even have thousands. You'll have maybe a hundred years or so if you're lucky, and then I'll die of old age, your Queen will die with me, one of you will replace her, and this whole shebang is gonna go on without me. Now, that might sound a little bit on the grim side, but compared to spending eternity with you people, kicking it as an old lady is easy street for me."
The Mabels tutted disapprovingly. "You really shouldn't think like that Mabel," the nearest of them simpered. "It's not healthy. And what makes you think we won't be able to make you immortal? What makes you think that's outside the realms of possibility?"
"Because we haven't invented the cure for aging in this dimension. Duh."
"You really think the Forger Wasps can't make anything new, can't you? You think we're dependent on what our hosts have invented? Oh, if that were the case, we wouldn't have conquered entire universes, let alone become an extinction-level threat. We have access to the combined knowledge and creativity of everyone we've converted, and we can put it to use at any time we please."
"So what? You're still years away from making me immortal: I've heard Dipper talking about the idea in his crazy science magazines and I know for a fact that nobody's making any progress right now, no matter how many lobsters or jellyfish you find."
There was now a decidedly vicious edge to the Mabel's smile now. "I think that's due to human weakness than any real difficulty in cracking the problem, don't you? All those scientists focussing on the problem but held back by their individuality, by mistrust, greed, pride, boredom, disillusionment… just imagine what all those intellects could do once freed from the burden of identity! Just imagine how quickly we could preserve you – or even turn back the clock on any years that had passed in that time…"
"And we've already made a start," said a voice from the other end of the laboratory.
Mabel turned to follow the source of the voice and saw, emerging from the crowd of duplicates huddled around the laboratory workbenches, yet another clone – except this one was dressed in a familiar-looking trenchcoat. It took Mabel a grand total of four heartstopping seconds to recognize Grunkle Ford's usual ensemble, only downsized to fit the clone's smaller frame.
There could only be one explanation for this outfit:
"…Fabel?" she asked quietly.
"Nice of you to recognize me," said the newest of the drones. "We thought you might be more comfortable with us if we made ourselves a little more… distinctive."
On instinct, Mabel turned back to the doppelganger by her side, belatedly recognizing the suit. By way of a response, the double grinned, and added an eyepatch to her ensemble.
Stabel.
"Right now," Fabel continued, "Cabel, Grabel, Sabel and Dabel are busy on patrol, but I've got lab duties – along with McGabel!"
Across the room, a Mabel wearing McGucket's old hat waved.
"We've already made some headway into developing potential sources of immortality," Fabel continued. "You see, it's all been done before, but never so scientifically – not in this dimension at any rate. Just as well we've got our very own dimensional traveller on hand, huh? Ford has more than enough information on the subject to make the fountain of youth a reality. I don't doubt he'd think it wouldn't be worth the cost in resources, but it really doesn't matter what he thinks anymore, does it?"
"And soon it won't matter what anyone thinks," said Stabel. "Now that we've got you back, we don't need to worry about you being hurt out in the wilderness: now we can focus on extending our reach to the rest of the world. In the last few hours, we've acquired almost a hundred thousand new hosts from the forests alone, and we now have the numbers to take this show on the road."
Fabel giggled insanely. "Just imagine it, Mabel: thousands of us making their way across the country, little lost children waiting to be picked up by the police, by good Samaritans, by anyone happy enough to take in a hitchhiker without asking questions. We've made projections already, and we calculate that the United States will be completed infested within one week of our expansion. True, the rest of the world will be more difficult, no doubt – different approaches to national security and all that – but once we have the resources of an entire nation under our control, it won't matter all that much. If one Mabel slipped past the borders won't be enough to open the way for us, a nuclear war might. And once the world is ours, it'll be time to go galactic: imagine the human race finally colonizing the solar system, journeying beyond the Milky Way galaxy, and conquering alien civilizations – all while under our banner!"
As one, the Mabels tittered with amusement.
"Not that you'll know anything of it," added Stabel. "You'll be so well protected that the entire western hemisphere could be seared barren and you wouldn't notice: we have it in our power to make this basement stronger than any fallout bunker in the world, and now that we have you here, you won't be budging from it anytime soon. But don't worry; we'll allow you out of the cell for exercise and activities – after all, we want to make you happy. So I supposed the question we have to ask now is this…"
Once again, there was a predatory edge to the clone's smile. "Are you going to behave and be a good little girl, or are we going to have to find out just what it takes to make you cooperate?"
"We've still got Waddles around," Fabel chimed in. "We can't convert him… but we can kill him. It'll be interesting to see if you're still a fan of bacon once we're done with him, but we don't like causing unnecessary anguish to you. So what's it to be, Mabel?"
Mabel took a deep breath. This was the part she'd been dreading ever since she'd thought of this mad plan: she had to make them believe that they'd won, had to make them think that they'd beaten the fight out of her. Defiance was officially out of the question, anger would not be tolerated, and even the slightest bit of backtalk would end in disaster: quite apart from the threat to Waddles, they'd probably lock her in this cell for days or even weeks until they were satisfied that she'd been well and truly suppressed, and Mabel didn't have that kind of time to waste. As far as she knew, she had only five to six days left until the Forger Wasps' victim were past the point of no return, and before that time was up, she had to get her hands on a sample of cure… and for that to happen, she had to be defeated: in the time she had left, she had to prove to everyone who was watching that she'd been tamed. She couldn't afford to get them suspicious now, not when the future of the human race was at stake.
So, sagging with despair, she bowed her head in contrition and muttered, "You win."
"I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Could you repeat that?"
"You win," Mabel sighed.
"Hmm. Not quite what we wanted, Mabel. We wanted to know if you were going to be a good little girl. Are you?"
Mabel nodded weakly.
"And are you sorry for fighting us?"
She nodded again.
"And you'll never try to escape?"
Another nod. Her eyes were starting to water now – more out of fear than anything else, but that might work for her purposes.
"And are you going to be happywith us? We'd like to see a little eye contact for this one, by the way. Are you going to be happy to stay with us – for all eternity?"
Cringing, Mabel forced herself to meet Stabel's gaze and nodded, just managing to choke out a gasp of "yes" as she did so. But she knew they'd want proof of it, so she forced herself to smile through her tears, contorting her face into an agonized-looking rictus as she nodded.
"Good," said Stabel. "That's all we wanted to know."
She spread her arms, as if for a hug – one final test, probably.
By now, Mabel could barely suppress the shudder of disgust at the notion of being in contact with the Forger Wasps, especially after seeing the x-ray images of their infestation in progress… but she knew she had to make this convincing. So, she let her body succumb to exhaustion: with a little whimper and slumped forward into Stabel's waiting arms and lay there bonelessly as warm arms encircled her, drawing her into a soft embrace.
She didn't protest as the clone began carrying her away, nor did she complain as the other Forger Wasps crowded around her to join the hug; she didn't even stir when they began fussing over her, brushing her hair, drying her eyes and brushing dirt from her clothes.
She had to make them believe. So she simply lay there in the clones' arms, limp and motionless as a doll, smiling vacantly and dead to the world.
Not too far away, from the safety of an air vent, Larry King's disembodied wax head raised his eyebrows, swivelled around on his neck stump, and hopped back into the shadows.
He'd been on edge for the last twenty-four hours, especially once he'd figured out that the Mabel clones didn't like anything that mimicked life and intelligence. Thankfully, they hadn't caught him yet: they knew that Dipper's big attempt at pursuing him through the ductwork had ended in failure, and were now making do with bait – in much the same way as Mabel herself had. Unfortunately for them, Wax Larry King wasn't fooled this time around.
Plus, he had the distinct impression that they wouldn't do so well in the tight passageways. Even if they did get bored with trying to bait him out, they'd probably rip the air vents out of the building before they actually tried to follow him in.
So it came as something of a surprise when a hand snaked out of the darkness ahead of him and clamped down hard on Wax Larry King's mouth, yanking him off his stump and dragging him into the shadows.
A/N: Any guesses as to what might happen next? Like the soundtrack? Let me know!
The soundtrack to this chapter is The Place Where There Is No Darkness by Dominic Muldowney.
And as for the code…
Gsv Jfvvm hzd urugvvm.
Dszg lu gsv gdvmgb-urev?