One of their own hides a dark secret.
Corduroy blood.
Wendy tapped her fingers on the desk, her handcuffs clinking against each other.
Corduroy blood.
She and her family had been locked in separate interrogation rooms as soon as the evidence had been found.
Corduroy blood.
Gideon hadn't been released yet, as he was suspected to have at least conspired in the murder. The interrogation had been ridiculously boring; it was just the same questions asked over and over again, just phrased slightly differently.
Corduroy blood.
It had been about two days, and no new information had been discovered.
Corduroy blood.
She knew who it was. Her mother was alive. Wendy didn't know why she killed Tad, but she knew it couldn't have been her father or her brothers.
If it was them, there would've been a lot more noise.
Corduroy blood.
As the words echoed through her head one final time, a laser shot through the cell door's lock. Mabel pushed it open, holding both Wendy's shotgun-axe and a laser pistol of her own.
"I knew you'd come through," Wendy remarked.
"You're welcome," Mabel said. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a set of keys. "That letter you slipped me was not subtle." She handed Wendy the keys, then continued. "There's a manhunt for us out there, and Brantley's leading the charge."
"I hate that guy," Wendy muttered, unlocking her cuffs. "That's better." She rubbed at her wrists for a second, before hearing the sound of gunshots being fired.
Stan rounded the corner holding two pistols, firing them down the corridor in quick succession. "Come on!" he shouted, running into the cell. "We haven't got all day!"
Wendy grabbed her weapon from Mabel's hand and ran her finger across the blade. "You're right."
Wendy poked her head around the corner. The three of them were in the process of sneaking through McGucket's mansion, and thankfully, hadn't been spotted so far. They'd escaped the prison with relative ease, their only roadblock being – ironically- Blubs and Durland. No one had been overly comfortable stunning them (those lasers hurt a lot more than you'd realise), so Stan had resorted to distracting them long enough so they could make their escape. All he'd had to do was mention Weirdmageddon, which had caused Blubs to tell him to 'not mention Weirdmageddon.' Durland had immediately tased him whilst shouting 'never mind all that!' (so maybe the 'don't hurt them' plan hadn't worked out exactly as they'd wanted it to).
Once that had been dealt with, they'd formulated a plan to steal one of McGucket's many planes. The first thing they did was talk to Pacifica; she knew the place like the back of her hand, and had agreed to help them sneak in. That was when they met up with Henry, one of McGucket's many butlers. He'd been in the main hall when they'd entered, and had been immediately briefed on the situation. He'd been intent on helping them, so much so that he pulled one of McGucket's old pilot-bots out of storage to fly the plane (her name was DIANA, with stood for Digitally Intelligent Artificial Navigation Automaton).
"Takeoff in T-minus sixty seconds," DIANA warned. She was humanoid in shape, bright, spotless white plating covering her body. Her eyes glowed a bright blue, her robotics barely visible behind them. "For your own safety, I'd suggest using the harnesses you call 'seatbelts' that are designed to keep you safe."
"This could be a bumpy ride," Henry warned, doing as he was instructed and fastening his belt.
Stan sighed as he, Wendy and Mabel leaned over the monitor. "Who we lookin' for again?"
"Jane Corduroy," Wendy said, her arm being slightly jostled by Mabel's.
Looking up, Mabel responded, "You last saw her in Australia, right?"
"Yeah," Wendy replied, handing Mabel a photo taken on that very holiday. Then she caught herself. "Wait… how do you know that?"
Mabel abruptly stopped typing, as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Oh," she muttered, her voice losing it's happy tone and switching to a more somber one. "Dipper told me. I don't know how he found out, though."
Wendy mused, "That's odd. I don't remember telling him anything about that."
Dad could've told him, the voice of reason inside her head whispered.
The other voice, the more narcissistic one, decided to chip in, saying, What if she's lying?
Mabel chuckled slightly. "Yeah, you know Dipper. Always looking for answers and mysteries and all that junk. She typed for a minute longer, before a familiar image popped up on the screen. "This her?"
"That's her," Wendy responded, choosing to ignore the fact that her mother was using an entirely separate name now.
"She got caught by a security camera going into a bar twenty minutes ago," Stan said. "It's called the Prancing Pony, it's in Scotland."
"DIANA!" Henry shouted. "How far off are we?"
"About fifteen minutes and thirty-six seconds, sir."
The Prancing Pony was a small, middling bar that sat to one side of a busy Glasgow street. The pavement was new and shiny, matching the relative nobility of the establishment it sat in front of. Inside the bar, the patrons – of which there were many – were anything but noble. They were loud and boisterous (despite this fact, the place was actually relatively clean). The black and white checkered floor was bright and radiant, the bar top missing the usual puddles spilled there. At the very back of the bar, there was a woman sat at a booth. She had shoulder length brown hair and wore a tan long coat, her eyes covered up by a pair of aviator sunglasses. In her hand she held a glass of wine, taking sips out of it every now and again.
Wendy, noticing this, made her way over to the table and sat down. Both women knew who the other was, the silence palpable.
"I should've known you'd come," Jane said, finally breaking the silence.
Wendy didn't bother to respond, the shock of the situation already too much for her. She'd told herself she was ready, but hearing her mother's voice for the first time in years made it all worthless.
Okay, she thought. Preeetty sure I'm having a panic attack. Jeez, is this what Dipper and Mabel have to go through every day? Whoa.
"I never should've taken him out…" Jane muttered, shaking her head and smiling. Seemingly unaware to her daughter's distress, she continued, "It was too big a risk."
"What the hell…" Wendy asked, her panic having died down to manageable levels.
"Well, I had to." Jane tapped her fingers on the table, the remainder of her alcohol shaking. Her smile was off – too wide, too crazy. "Let's just say he was a bit of a square, and—"
"No, no," Wendy responded. "what I meant was – what the hell?"
"Oh." Jane's tone was soft and quiet, somber even. Her manic smile dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, being replaced with a more regretful expression. "Do you remember the night I disappeared?" she asked, pulling her shades off.
Wendy's heart pounded in her chest as she was reminded of the night she'd tried so hard to forget, but failed all the same. It was the reason she'd been so casual about Weirdmageddon and all the other life-threatening situations she'd been in over the past few years. Death had lost it's impact that night; because as far as she was concerned, it would've been a blessing to see her mother again. She'd survived the worst life could throw at her, even the prospect of Armageddon hadn't phased her. But now, she was confronted with something that did scare her. She couldn't even bare to fathom the thought that Jane was evil. As far as she was concerned, her mother wasn't doing this of her own accord. Either that, or it straight up wasn't her. Whatever the case, she'd make sure she saved her mother.
"Yeah." The word came out as a hoarse rasp, the emotions bubbling up inside her coming to a breaking point.
To that, Jane sighed and began her tale.
Jane's shivering hands wrapped around her flashlight tightly. She really should've brought her coat. It was freezing. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing her campsite sink under the horizon. Her boots squelched in the soft mud of the track, the trees surrounding her whistling in the wind. She was making a conscious effort to be as quiet as possible, as to hear… whatever it was more easily.
Only then did she realise that she'd been holding her breath this whole time. She let it out with a long, satisfying blow, it being one of the only sounds that could be heard in the silent forest.
Then she froze.
With movements slow and rigid, she pivoted around to the source of the noise. It seemed to be coming from behind a bush not too far from her, two metres at best. Still frozen in fear, she pulled together the manpower to take her hunting knive out of her pocket. It was only then that a thought occurred to her.
What if it was the same monster that had destroyed the hotel?
As it turned out, she was right.
But she was too late.
Jane ran a hand over the thin scars that crossed her face, a stark reminder of that night. Just before she took another sip of alcohol, Wendy spoke again.
"So what was it?" she asked, her mouth agape.
Jane chuckled. "A gremloblin," she responded. "Granted, I didn't know that at the time, but when I looked into those glassy, golden eyes, they showed me the truth."
"What truth?" Wendy inquired, her voice cracking with fear.
Jane leaned forward, placing her hands on the table. "That the supernatural is dangerous. And it will destroy us."
"What?" Wendy exclaimed, standing up and shoving her chair back instinctively. It clattered to the floor, garnering the attention of some of the patrons.
"The end is at hand," Jane muttered. "The end is at hand."
Wendy's eyes widened as she glanced over the bar, to Stan.
Big mistake.
"Oh," Jane smiled. "You've got friends." The off-putting smile returned again, now accompanied by lifeless, unblinking eyes. "I assume that their job is to parent me from escaping?"
Fake confidence flooded Wendy's veins, the familiar sensation comforting. Still, her façade was clearly crumbling. "Yeah," she said, her hands refusing to stop shaking. "And you're coming with us."
Jane chuckled, standing up herself. She was maybe an inch taller than her daughter, but to Wendy it felt like Jane was towering over her.
"Whatever you say, boss."
—Wkh hqg lv dw kdqg
This chapter was really fun to write, if I'm being honest. In the next chapter, I have to develop Davian's character a lot more, since he'll be my longest-lasting and most complex villain. I also have to start developing the Ford/Elsa relationship, because I have plans for the both of them (and no, before you ask, they will never actually get together). Also, I want to see if anyone can guess what the name of the bar is a reference to (it's actually really obvious).