Hundreds of people crowded the halls, swaying lazily to the music with drinks sloshing in their hands. Dipper was temporarily blinded by the strobe lights that lined the walls, giving everyone a purple shine. The doors shut behind him, and he began to squeeze through the crowd as quick as he could.
Hank had pointed directly to the car park, saying that was where the parts were. Dipper hoped his direction was accurate – he didn't want to spend the rest of the night searching for car parts in an overcrowded night club on an inter-dimensional planet.
At least he could say the noise drowned out his worries for the time being. It was hard enough to even walk in a straight line, staring directly at the ground. He occasionally sneaked a few glances up at the crowd, noticing something unsettling.
There were no actual faces to every person, in a sense. Everyone was wearing a large, leather mask, each styled to be the head of an animal. There were well made, shining finely in the bright lights, and Dipper realised he must be sticking out like a sore thumb without a similar getup.
There was no time to attempt to find a mask, however. Finally, he had reached the back door after weaving through countless crowds. With a grunt, he pushed the doors open, slamming them shut again after him.
The music was once again quietened, the wind tousling his hair in greeting. Dipper sighed in relief of escaping the crowd, dusting himself off.
"Now…what did he say it was?" Dipper muttered to himself, beginning to stride across the car park. "A red van?"
Luckily, he found the vehicle quickly under the flickering street lights. At least, he hoped it was the right one, or he was going to break into a car for nothing.
It wasn't like breaking into a car was a problem, thanks to his Grunkle Stan. The older man had made sure that, during the third summer at Gravity Falls, Dipper and Mabel had learnt to not only break into a car quietly, but hot wire the entire thing for a speedy escape. Chuckling slightly at the memory, Dipper hoped he wouldn't have to make an escape similar.
One of Mabel's hairpins was still stuck on his jacket (somehow they were everywhere he went). Mentally thanking her, he began to work at the lock with the small tool, giving a small smile when he heard a click.
"Okay…" he had chosen to open the boot, assuming the parts would be stored there. He pulled up its door, frowning when he found old blankets and boxes. Dipper peered further into the van, spotting a metallic box sitting in the back seat.
"That's gotta be it." He looked around, checking no one was in the car park, then dived in through the boot and into the car. He cursed as his shin hit the metal, biting his lip to stop a yell of pain.
Wasting no time, he shuffled into the back seat and yanked the box open. With relief, he found that all sorts of engine parts were crammed into the box, and shut it again with a snap.
"Now I just need to get out of – " Dipper turned around, cutting off as he discovered he had actually acquired an audience. He froze, eyes widening.
"- here." He finished lamely. Three creatures that looked similar to Hank were watching him, their arms folded. Each had suits on, dressed for the occasion.
Each of the thugs pulled off their masks, revealing their sharp eyes and wide grins.
"What do we have here, eh?" The front of the group said teasingly. Dipper gulped, giving a wave.
"Hello…I'm Dipper Pines…" He began cooly. He lifted the box in the air. "..and I need these, if you don't mind…"
"Really?" The spokesman of the three said, giving a larger grin. "I don't think so." He snapped his fingers, and his two henchmen began to slowly close in on him. Dipper looked between them both, slowly grabbing the knife in his pocket.
"Are you serious? I just want to pay my fucking fare and leave!" Dipper yelled in frustration. "Just my luck."
All three aliens suddenly lunged towards him, tearing open the car doors. Dipper swiftly kicked the closest in the face, pushing himself into the driver's seat.
"Kill him!" One of them ordered. Dipper muttered another curse as they pulled out long guns, pointing them at his head.
"Oh no." Dipper said, staring into the barrel of the gun. He ducked as they began to fire, curling under the seat.
The bullets shattered the windows around him, slicing one of his arms. He bit out a yelp of pain and chose to suddenly jump out of the now glassless window. He slid off the bonnet of the car, ducking as more gunfire scattered into the metal.
"This is bad, this is really bad…" Dipper muttered as footsteps ran closer to him.
His eyes widened as he felt the cold barrel of the gun press against his head, breath hitching.
"Drop the box." His opponent snarled. Dipper quickly went through possible solutions in his head, only finding one.
It was dumb and would probably end in death, but he really had nothing to lose at this point. It was either die on a cold tarmac or never live and see Mabel again, or anyone he loved.
"I said drop it." The alien ordered, pressing the gun harder into his head. "Do it and I might kill you quickly."
"I don't think I will."
With one fluid movement, Dipper span himself around and stabbed his knife into the alien's eye, dragging it down his face for good measure. As his opponent released his tight hold, Dipper turned and fled. He slammed into the back doors, entering the nightclub once more, and ducked behind a table. His dash to freedom was hindered by the huge crowds that had gathered around every area of the floor – escaping was almost impossible.
There was another, louder bang and Dipper looked up briefly to see his pursuers standing in the back entrance. The boss now had blood dripping down his face, puddling on his suit.
"Where is he?!" He yelled, shoving his way through the crowd. With alarm, Dipper noted they were quickly coming his way. He ducked under the table again, brainstorming.
Beside his hand, there was a mask similar to the ones at the club, abandoned on the floor. It was the face of a fox, delicately decorated with stitches and studs. Without thinking, he placed it over his face, tucking the toolbox behind his back as he stood once more.
Hoping to blend in, he pretended to busy himself at the table, leaning against it and grabbing a glass that had also been left on its surface.
"Please work." Dipper muttered under his breath, eyeing the gang carefully as they closed in on him.
"Find him now!" The boss yelled as he walked past Dipper, clutching a hand over his damaged face. Dipper forced himself to relax, keeping his stature loose and uncaring. He kept his gaze down at the glass in his hand, twisting it in his fingers.
After a tense pause, the boss continued to push past, barely glancing his way. He knew they were looking for his human face, something that he could already tell was not common in an area like this. He hadn't seen any other human-looking thing since he arrived.
Slowly, he placed the glass back on the table, straightening from his slouch. Pressing the toolbox close to his chest, he began to exit the building, trying to blend in the crowd.
Music faded from his ears, his foot finally stepping out onto the rough concrete sidewalk. Dipper let out a sigh, looking behind him cautiously.
Satisfied that he hadn't been followed, he began to walk back to the bar. He kept the mask on for a while longer, in case the gang spotted him once more. The mask helped him blend in with the other creatures – he had already learnt that his human face was like a beacon amongst the crowds, possible causing in more unwanted attention.
"You made it!" Hank laughed when he entered the bar again, holding the toolbox out in front of him. Dipper gave a short nod, sitting back down in his previous seat.
"Nice mask. Probably a good idea in an area like this." Hank advised. Dipper nodded again, pushing the box towards the trucker.
"You didn't tell me there was going to be others guarding it!" He said as Hank opened the box. The trucker gave a low whistle.
"I expected 'em to be drunk outta their minds, trust me dude." He replied. He gave a short bark of laughter. "You really struck gold here though!"
Hank held one of the parts to the light, twisting it in his hands.
"This is probably worth more than your fare." He stared.
"So I don't owe you anything now?" Dipper clarified. Hank stood, downing the last of his drink.
"For sure, man." He replied. He shut the box with a snap "Well - I best be going."
The trucker held out his hand to Dipper, who shook it gratefully.
"Thanks for helping me out back there." He said. Hank chuckled.
"No problem." The trucker suddenly paused, frowning. Dipper watched as he lowered his hand, tucking the toolbox under his arm. His expression became more serious than he had ever seen it.
"Be careful out there." Hank said in a low voice. "Somebody is out to get you, if what you were sayin' really was true. Someone powerful enough to drag you into Universal Limbo." He warned. Dipper frowned at the memory, letting out a shaky breath.
"I will." He said. Hank gave a short nod, turning his back on him.
"Good luck!" He called over his shoulder as he left.
Dipper, now alone at the table, slumped forward and rested his head on the wood.
"What am I going to do?" He whispered to himself. He had no money, no adequate weapons and no place to stay. If the darkening sky was anything to go by, it would be night shortly. He didn't want to stick around to see what awaited for him if he roamed the streets at such hour.
Again, he felt the need to be beside his family, seeking their support. He turned to the chair beside him, so used to Mabel sitting next to him, and felt his heart twist at the sight of the empty seat.
"Have you noticed I've gone yet?" He asked quietly, looking out of the window. He sighed. "I already miss you."
The stars began to make their marks in the sky, slowly turning it into a glistening carpet across the landscape.
He remembered he and Mabel doing the very same thing just a few nights ago – staring at the stars through the triangular windows of the Mystery Shack. He recalled her smiling face, eyes shining in the pale moonlight as she retold tales from childhood. Dipper had been happy to listen, always happy to listen.
"I need to get back." He muttered. The memory brought a new determination to the hopeless situation he was in. He abruptly stood from the chair, staring around.
Firstly, if he was going to catch his rift again, he needed to stay close to this area. He also noted that he would need a much more advanced weapon, suspecting his plan would not go smoothly.
Upon entering the bar for the second time, he noticed a sign advertising work in exchange for room and other payments that were unspecified. Dipper looked around once more, spotting the bartender standing at the counter.
It was a start.
"Hey." Dipper lamely greeted as he walked over, rubbing the back of his head. He never fully mastered introductions, even as an adult.
The bartender raised their eyebrow. They looked mostly humanoid, with pale blue skin and an extra eye positioned on where the throat would usually be. Dipper tried not to think about it too much.
"Hey." They answered, waiting. Dipper coughed, clearing his throat awkwardly.
"I saw that you needed someone for a job? For a place to stay?" He asked. The bartender nodded, giving a brief smile.
"Yeah. You interested?"
"Yeah, I –"
"Good. You're hired." The bartender said, leaning closer. "You up for this? It's kinda personal."
"What?" Dipper caught up with the conversation, blinking owlishly. "Oh – yeah. I need a place to stay. And weapons." He asked. He watched as the bartender walked to a back door, twisting it open with a key.
"Spare room down the hall and to the left. If you see the barrels you've gone too far." They told him, then paused. "As for weapons - let's see what you can do first."
Dipper was pushed through the doorway, stumbling. He span around, facing the bartender once more.
"What exactly do you want me to do?" He asked. The bartender sighed, rolling their eyes.
"It's a long story. One I'm not willing to get into for the morning." They must've caught his tired expression, because they added, "Don't worry, your job is a quick one. And I'll give you enough to get back on your feet, human."
"Err – right." Dipper let the door be shut on him, running a hand down his face. "Right."
He followed the bartender's directions, stepping warily around the rotting floorboards and creaking staircases. He pushed open the door on the left as he had been instructed, frowning at the size of the room.
He hadn't been expecting anything fancy at all, but this room wasn't even tall enough for him to stand in. It reminded him of Soos' boiler room.
"If Soos could sleep on a literal boiler I can sleep in this." He reminded himself, ignoring the tightening of his chest at the thought of his home. Stooping low, he squeezed himself onto the rickety bed that lay on the floor. Sighing, he pulled off his jacket and used it as a blanket, draping it over himself in a swoop. As he stared up at the rotting ceiling, he could briefly pretend that he was back in the attic room once more.
Dipper rolled onto his side, curling up into a ball as he fought to stay in control of his emotions. He needed his medication, he needed his family, he needed Mabel –
"What am I doing?" He muttered, staring back at the ceiling. Watching flies hover above him, he let out a long sigh.
"I need to focus. I'm never going to get home if I don't stop dwelling on what could have been." He said to himself. "I need to focus on what I need to do now – for Mabel, if not for myself." He paused. "She needs me. And I…I really would like to see her again, not stay trapped like Ford for thirty years."
He closed his eyes, imagining that the familiar walls of the Mystery Shack surrounded him. Sound began to fade from his ears as he drifted into an uneasy sleep.
For a moment, Dipper thought he heard something fill the silence, faint but familiar.
Manic laughter, crazy and unhinged, echoing around the room.
However, before he could process the sound, he was plunged into sleep.