Aggressively whipping out onto the main street of Gravity Falls, Wendy pounded twice on her horn. The car in front of her, whose only crime was making their turn a second too slowly, meekly pulled out of Wendy's way. She responded by stomping down on the gas pedal, roaring towards the rustic diner straight ahead. Tuned to a local radio station that hadn't yet switched from the Christmas music rotation, the swanky opening swell of a traditional carol began to play through the cab.
'Hark! The herald angel sing...'
"Ugh," groaned Wendy, immediately shutting off the stereo as soon as she processed the lyrics.
"What's gotten into you?" cried Dipper, clutching onto the handle of the door. Wendy said nothing at first. But a moment later, she let off the gas pedal and applied the brake in an effort to return to a more normal speed.
"Sorry, Dipper," replied Wendy, finally calming as she took in a deep breath. "Just… the entire reason we found out about this Herald thing is because my dad shared one of these posts. I love him to death, but he falls for every stupid thing he sees online. And now I have to wonder if he's one of the people who will end up going along with whatever this Herald has planned." Wendy tightly clenched her fists around the steering wheel as she angrily stared forward. "Again, sorry. But if someone is putting garbage in my dad's head, it's personal, and it's gonna get violent."
Wendy turned, and while her face was still wrapped up in anger, Dipper could easily recognize the fear and sadness in her eyes. He nodded silently. She had his back, he had hers. That silent acknowledgement was enough, and her face slid back towards her usual laid back smirk.
By the time Wendy's truck pulled into the Greasy's parking lot, the afternoon lull had firmly set in and they had no trouble finding a space up front. Through the windshield, Dipper could see through the rustic diner's windows and immediately spotted Pacifica as she brought a tray of drinks to a new table. He watched while she distributed the glasses, lowered the tray to her hip, and laughed in conversation with what appeared to be a group of regular customers. Her wrinkled uniform and coffee splattered apron made it all too obvious that the lunch rush had been brutal today. But from the looks of her face as she talked to her customers, she had become a pro of putting on a happy, customer facing facade. 'I guess all those years of smiling alongside her parents made for great practice,' thought Dipper.
"Come on Dipper, I'm starving. You can see her better inside anyway," said Wendy as she pushed open the driver's side door. While it was certainly a sign she was feeling better, Dipper groaned at Wendy's return to teasing him about Pacifica. But he followed suit and exited the truck himself.
Shortly afterwards, an old red beater with the license plate STNLYMBL pulled into the adjacent parking spot. Bursting out of the driver's side door, Stan stomped through the parking lot slush, approaching the pair with a frown on his face.
"Trouble in paradise?" joked Wendy. Stan rolled his eyes.
"If I had known how much of a backseat driver Ford would be, I would have stuck him with you. It's like he's never seen a man drive through a red light before, big whoop."
"Stanley, I didn't mean to irritate you," said Ford, exiting the car and joining the group. "Though I maintain that the meaning of a red light can't possibly have changed that much in the years since I last drove a car."
"And another thing," grumbled Stan. "Don't think I'm too pleased to be your resident kook. I like to think that I'm more, you know, kook-adjacent. Someone who only speaks enough of their language to figure out how to take their money."
"In any case, you're exactly who we need right now," said Ford, giving Stan a friendly pat on the back of his tattered jacket. Stan begrudgingly smiled at the recognition. "We'll go on ahead and tip off Dipper's girlfriend to get them seated nearby us, you wait for our signal to come and infiltrate the group. If you recognize any of them, greet them by name."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it," replied Stan with a dismissive wave, while Dipper buried his face into his gloves. Stan wandered off towards a bench outside the diner, while the remainder of the party climbed up the porch steps to reach the front door. As they entered, a small bell hung above the doorway chimed, alerting the staff to the presence of new customers.
"Welcome to Greasy's, party of three?" greeted Lazy Susan as they approached the hostess stand.
"Yes, and can you put us in Pacifica's section, please?" replied Wendy. Dipper scratched the back of his head absently, but since Lazy Susan recognized him immediately, it wasn't exactly a mystery to her why he was at the diner. She grinned widely in response.
"Of course, dears, right this way!" Susan led them to a booth nearby one of the windows, setting menus in front of them as they sat down. Dipper and Ford entered one side of the booth, seating Wendy alone across the table. "Paz will be right with you, okay?" added Susan as she walked off to another section of the diner.
Dipper pretended to read the menu as he watched Pacifica wrap up an interaction with another customer. She turned to Lazy Susan, who said something indecipherable before pointing over to Wendy and Dipper's table. Pacifica turned, and Dipper could see her face brighten immediately when she saw him. As far as he could tell, he didn't see any sign of lingering animosity from Pacifica over the photo he sent earlier.
"Dipper!" greeted Pacifica excitedly, and she quickly moved towards his table. A customer seated at the counter turned, curious to see why his waitress was in such good spirits. Catching herself, Pacifica slowed down and pared her excited grin down to a sheepish smile. Watching this play out, Dipper felt his cheeks flush slightly, and he hoped that no one else noticed. Not many sensations could make him forget about a potential fringe cult threatening the safety of the world, but whatever he was feeling in that moment was one of them.
"Hey," he replied warmly, standing up from his seat. As she looked at him expectantly, he awkwardly moved his hands together and sighed. "About earlier-"
"It's fine," replied Pacifica, with a firmness that told Dipper it definitely was not fine. "Let's move on, okay?"
Dipper looked down at his hands, then opened his arms in invitation. "Still need that hug?"
Pacifica pressed her hand to her forehead and sighed, letting her smile fade a bit. "Yeah. Honestly, it's been a really rough day." Pacifica stepped forwards into Dipper's arms and squeezed him back tightly. As she rested her chin on his shoulder, Pacifica noticed Wendy and Ford for the first time. Wendy returned her gaze with a cheesy grin, while Ford stared intently out the window, orienting his body as opposite from Dipper and Pacifica as he could manage in a diner booth. "And you brought company. That's new."
Dipper broke off the hug and sat back down in the booth. "Unfortunately, we're here on business. We've uncovered a disturbing group on Snapagram that's obsessed with Bill Cipher."
Pacifica's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, I've heard of that!"
The entire party turned at this admission. "You have?" asked Ford, the first to break the stunned silence.
"It's surprisingly easy to pick up gossip working here,' added Pacifica, flipping her hair back to punctuate her remark. "Anyway, there's a group of regulars who come in every week talking about it. It's this weird little club where they share the messages they've found online and try to figure out what they mean. It used to be kind of dorky and light hearted, but it's taken a darker turn lately. Susan wanted to post about them on the Greasy's Snapagram page and it took a lot of pleading to convince her that wasn't in her best interest."
Dipper nodded along as Pacifica spoke, before a sudden spike of anxiety reminded him that they had rushed here to beat the Disciples to the diner. He quickly checked his watch - 1:55pm. "Uh, huh. Great. So you've seen them before, right?"
"I mean, yeah, but…"
"Can you make sure they're seated next to us so we can listen in on them?"
Pacifica's smile turned uneasy at Dipper's request, and he watched her hand move to absently clutch the side of her apron. She looked across the diner towards the counter service area, just in time to see Lazy Susan 'wink' at her. Taking a deep breath, she brought her gaze back to Dipper and leaned forward.
"You've got to promise me you're not going to cause a scene," she whispered. "If they're up to something, I'll help you any way I can. But you can't put my job at risk, clear?"
Dipper studied Pacifica's face, trying to understand where her change in tone was coming from. Her eyes pleaded for him to take her seriously, and as he glanced down at where she rested her hand on the table, he noticed it was shaking. 'She wasn't kidding about having a bad day,' he thought. 'Hopefully we'll wrap up the mystery here and now so we can still enjoy the party tonight.' He solemnly nodded in response. No matter what they heard, they weren't going to interfere. Yet.
Pacifica leaned back, offering Dipper a relieved smile for his reassurance. "Did anyone want anything while you waited?" she asked, looking around the table at the rest of the party.
Dipper opened his mouth but didn't have a chance to speak before Wendy exclaimed, "I would literally kill for a taco right now." Pacifica scribbled onto her notepad, mouthing along as she wrote.
"Coffee, Dipper?" she offered, but she knew well enough to preemptively begin jotting down the order on her pad before he could reply.
"Please," he replied, looking up to see her customer service grin slide ever so slightly to a smug half smile as her prediction came true. Pacifica then turned to Ford, who politely shook his head and returned to staring out the window.
"I'll let you know when they're here," Pacifica added in a sotto voice as she leaned in to collect the menus from the table and walked off.
Dipper watched her as she left for a moment, before turning back to Wendy across the table. Leaning her head on her hand, she grinned cheekily back at him. 'Mabel treating my relationship as a spectator sport is bad enough, now her too?' he thought to himself. He furrowed his brow and tilted his head slightly, trying to silently convey 'Really, Wendy?' She appeared to get the message, as she immediately straightened up and looked away.
He didn't have long to dwell on the exchange, however, as the ringing bell above the front door indicated that a new group had arrived in the diner. Pacifica wasted no time, bounding to the host stand to greet them and show them to their table. As they made their way through the diner, Dipper held up his phone and pretended to text, trying to sneak a look at the members of the group through his peripheral vision. Unfortunately, their coats largely obscured their identities from his view, and the only thing he was sure of is that there were four members of the group seated behind him. He turned to Ford and nodded.
Ford opened his jacket and pulled out a walkie-talkie. He quickly pressed the talk button twice, then immediately switched it off. Returning the communicator to his jacket, he then produced three small notebooks and distributed them amongst the table. Dipper took his and produced a pen from his pocket, prepared to make note of any clues he overheard.
"Can I start everyone off with drinks?" Pacifica asked cheerfully. Dipper was mildly amused by the fact that her customer service voice was slightly higher pitched than her regular speaking voice, but he shook his head to try and refocus his mind on the mission.
"A pot of coffee for the table and that should be it for us," an unfamiliar voice replied, a man that sounded overconfident and snarky. Dipper heard the scribbling of a pen.
"Sounds good, I'll have that right out!" said Pacifica. She turned away from her new table, and immediately stopped again once she reached Dipper's table. "And how is everyone doing here?" Pacifica placed her hand on the table, covertly sliding a page of her order pad towards Dipper's hand. With his pinky, he snuck it underneath his palm.
"We're great, thanks," replied Dipper. Pacifica winked and walked back towards the refill station to prepare coffees. Dipper lifted his hand to reveal the message left for him on the other side of the paper:
THREE MEN. ONE WOMAN. THEY LOOK FAMILIAR, DON'T KNOW NAMES.
Dipper stashed the page in his pocket just as the bell at the front door jingled again. Stan had entered the diner, and was looking around at the different tables. He briefly made eye contact with Dipper, but continued to scan the restaurant. Pacifica walked to greet him, and while Dipper couldn't hear what she was saying, he could certainly hear Stan's loud reply.
"I'm looking for… uh… the Herald group."
Behind him, Dipper could hear the shifting of fabric as the group turned around.
"Over here, Stan," a second voice called from the table, a reedy-voiced man. Oddly enough, this was a voice Dipper knew he had heard before, but he couldn't place the face or name behind it. 'Hopefully, Stan knows who some of these people are,' he thought to himself as Stan strolled past him to join the group. For now, he jotted down a numbered list and left it blank.
"Welcome," greeted a third voice, this one belonging to a cheerful woman. "Maybe grab one of the bar stools, the group's getting a bit too big for the booths here." Stan obeyed, pulling one of the wooden stools to the edge of the booth and taking his seat.
"I'm sure you're all familiar with Stan," began the reedy-voiced man, "former owner of the Mystery Shack, runner up in the Gravity Falls mayoral election, and all around man about town."
"Please, Bobby, you're embarrassing me," laughed Stan. Ford, Dipper, and Wendy looked at one another in excitement. 'Wow, this is actually working,' Dipper thought to himself. 'That's got to be Bobby Renzobbi, the weird infomercial guy. How did I not recognize that voice?' Dipper scribbled down his name onto his notepad.
"It's an honor to have you join us," the snarky man added, "I'm sure you've got some great theories."
"You know it, Gary. If there's one thing I'm full of, it's theories," Stan replied.
Dipper looked to Wendy and Ford in turn, trying to gauge if either of them knew who a 'Gary' was. Wendy shrugged and Ford shook his head.
"By the way," added Stan, "sorry about that whole thing with the robot badger."
"Water under the bridge, my friend," replied Gary smoothly, "Not many outside the animatronics game know this, but accidental sentience insurance is a lifesaver. I made more money from the claim than I did all last year running the pizza arcade."
"That's smart. Smart thinking," muttered Stan in appreciation. Apparently, this was someone Stan had a history with, even if none of the rest of the group were aware of it. Pacifica returned with four mugs of coffee for the table. Dipper heard the clattering of china on the wooden table as the guests took their mugs from their serving saucers and took their first sips.
"Anything for you, Stan?"
"No thanks, Blondie," he replied. Pacifica walked off again, and the Herald group was clear to speak freely again.
"First thing's first," the fourth voice finally chimed in, sounding utterly unremarkable. Dipper's immediate first thought was this was the voice of Tad Strange, one of the most unremarkable and normal people in Gravity Falls. But he knew Tad was a regular of the diner, so Pacifica would have been able to identify him immediately. "You've picked a great day to join us, Stan, because we've discovered something. Something big."
Ford anxiously drummed his fingers on the table in anticipation. Pacifica briefly returned, just long enough to silently leave a cup of coffee in front of Dipper and immediately depart again. Dipper didn't have the opportunity to show it, but he was appreciative that he finally had something to stare at silently other than the blank notepad and the worn linoleum table.
"It's my lucky day," replied Stan. "Hit me with it, I'm ready." Wendy and Dipper exchanged a look - apparently this voice belonged to someone Stan didn't know.
"Alright," said the unremarkable voice, pausing for effect, "It's about the symbols."
"Symbols? What symbols?" asked Stan.
"You don't know about the symbols?" Gary asked suspiciously. Dipper and company exchanged nervous glances.
"Look, guys, I'm new to this. I came here to learn, I didn't think I had to do homework first," Stan deflected. The table fell silent for a moment, broken only as one of the group members sighed.
"No, he's right," added Bobby, "if we want people to discover the truth, we're only hurting ourselves by gatekeeping people who are curious."
"It's just a little fishy," hissed Gary, "that he doesn't know about-"
"The symbols," interrupted the unremarkable voice, "are artifacts we've been finding around town. Most of them are just spray paintings of C that have been sighted around Gravity Falls, but we've found one that's… well, see for yourself."
Unable to see what Stan was seeing, the party waited in silence. They could hear Stan lean in on his stool, and lean back a few seconds later. "Where was this picture taken?"
"You'll never believe it," the cheerful woman teased.
"It's creepy how cheerful you are, Janice," grumbled Stan, to which Janice immediately responded with a bubbly laugh.
Wendy's eyes widened as she suddenly recognized her voice. Wendy quickly scribbled something onto her notepad, covertly turning it around for Dipper to see: ROBBIE'S MOM.
"This photo was taken five minutes away from the Mystery Shack," said the unremarkable voice.
"You're joking!" Stan gasped in mock astonishment.
"So you can imagine how excited we are to have you here today," the unremarkable voice continued. "It's no secret that there's always been something funny about the Shack."
"I mean if you ask me, the guy who built it could have done a better job on the finishing work," Stan joked, forcing Ford to stifle a snort, "but it's not all that mysterious to tell you the truth. It's just your regular old, straightforward, rinky dink tourist trap."
"But look at that photo, Stan. Really look at it," pressed the unremarkable voice. "Look at those intricate hieroglyphs, the detail. And look at the center. That's too weird to be a coincidence, right? These are instructions that clearly correspond to C somehow. "
Ford clenched his fists and took in a deep breath. It was his turn to scribble into his notebook and carefully reveal his message: PORTAL PLANS FROM MY JOURNALS. After he was sure both Dipper and Wendy saw his message, he flipped to a fresh page.
"Don't you see, Stan? The Herald wants us to go into the Mystery Shack and figure out what this means, so that we can unlock the secrets of C."
"Last I checked, the Mystery Shack was open for tours in the winter now," replied Stan. Bobby and Janice laughed.
"Obviously, we've tried that," sneered Gary. "The new guy was pretty suspicious about the whole thing. Said we were tampering with powers we didn't understand, and that the fate of the world was at stake. Any idea what he means by that?"
"You mean Soos? I've got more suspicious stains on my lounge chair. He's just trying to make you think he has magic powers so you buy more junk from the gift shop. He's a con artist. Learned from the best."
"I asked him if the Mystery Shack had a basement," added Bobby, "and he got all shifty. Has this ever happened to you? You ask a guy if a building has a basement, and he says 'Don't we all have basements? Spiritual basements, in need of cleaning?' I mean, what kind of three easy payments of cray cray is that?"
"The Shack is built on a raised porch, there is no basement," lied Stan insistently.
"Maybe, maybe not," the unremarkable voice replied, "but I think we'd all learn a lot more if we got a closer look. Maybe the original Mr. Mystery could take us on a private tour? Instead of gawking at fake taxidermy, we could solve a real mystery together."
"Sorry, it's not my property anymore. I don't know what to tell ya."
The bell on the entry door rang again. Dipper looked up to see Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland enter the diner, with Durland giving Lazy Susan a friendly tip of his cap. A hushed silence fell over the Disciples table, and two of the members began whispering in a low enough volume that Dipper couldn't make out what they were saying.
The unremarkable voice sighed. "Well, that's an unfortunate setback."
"It's my turn to cover the coffee, right?" Janice asked, though she already knew the answer. After exiting the booth, she made a beeline for the front register to cash out their table. Dipper watched as she avoided making eye contact with the two police officers and started making loud, unrelated small talk with the waitress working the register. The officers looked from Janice back towards the Disciples' table suspiciously.
"So that's it, we're just taking no for an answer?" exclaimed Gary angrily, struggling to keep his voice down, "People's lives could be at risk, and you're just giving up?"
"No," the unremarkable voice replied firmly. "We're just going to wait for the right opportunity to present itself. When we get the signal, we'll find what we're looking for. But we've been together in public for long enough, friends."
The three remaining members of the Disciples group stood up to exit their booth. Stan stood up as well, scooting back his stool in order to give them room to leave. Bobby was next to leave, and as he walked past, Dipper was able to confirm it was the strange man he had seen on television hawking various products and devices. He too tried to avoid eye contact with Blubs and Durland as he quickly departed the diner.
"See you around, Stan," Gary added as he moved to leave, in a low tone that gave his farewell the air of a threat. As Gary exited, Blubs and Durland stepped out into the aisle to block him.
"Well now," droned Blubs, looking Gary up and down through his mirrored shades. "You staying out of trouble, Gary?"
"I haven't done anything," snapped Gary in response, to which Blubs and Durland exchanged a laugh.
"Sparky here's been awful lonely," taunted Durland, raising his taser and attempting to twirl it. He failed, and the device clattered to the floor. "Oh darn it all," he muttered, bending over to pick it back up and raise it once again towards Gary.
"Just remember, what are we supposed to say when someone asks about the unpleasantness?" probed Blubs, leaning in slowly.
Gary scoffed in protest, but as he stared down Durland's taser, his resolve crumbled. Slumping his shoulders, he muttered, "Never mind all that."
"That's right," nodded Blubs. Another waitress approached the two officers, gesturing for them to follow her to the end of the diner furthest from Dipper and friends. Blubs tipped his hat slowly towards Gary as he departed. "You have a good day now, you hear?"
As the two officers were lead to their seats, Gary awkwardly shuffled out of the diner to avoid further confrontation.
The entire scene left Dipper a bit unnerved. While everything they were trying to uncover about the Herald and the Disciples group was disturbing, the power granted to Blubs and Durland to enforce the Never Mind All That law had clearly gone to their heads and wasn't helping things in the slightest. Out of the corner of his eye, Dipper could see that Ford had also been observing the conflict, with a defeated look broadcasting his own displeasure with Gravity Falls' law enforcement. While it may have seemed hard to believe at first that the law had become so controversial, seeing it play out in practice put things into perspective. But that wasn't a problem they could fix at the moment.
Once Blubs and Durland were seated across the diner and focused on each other, the conversation behind Dipper resumed. "Thanks for coming, Stan," said the unremarkable voice. "I hope the others didn't put you off from joining us again."
"Real welcoming bunch they are," muttered Stan. The unremarkable voice laughed softly.
"We live in strange times, my friend. They're just trying to navigate this reality with whatever tools they have. And sometimes, that tool is a healthy dose of suspicion."
"I can understand that," Stan admitted reluctantly. "I half expected they would have stopped using the tasers after the tall one hurt himself."
While staring down at his coffee, Dipper could see that Wendy was peering over his shoulder. 'Hopefully, once this guy moves to leave, Wendy will be able to identify him,' thought Dipper.
"Was there anything else you wanted to know?" asked the unremarkable voice.
"I'm coming into this whole thing pretty late, but I'm still trying to figure out how you all found each other," asked Stan.
"It started with a post on a Gravity Falls community message board. One of the first people to report dreaming about C. A number of us responded, trying to figure out why we all had these vague memories of a major event involving this indecipherable being. But since the city ran the message board, they used the "Never Mind All That" law to justify deleting all of our accounts."
"Yeesh," replied Stan. "Kind of a harsh reaction to a bunch of people talking about dreams."
"Our thoughts exactly. A few days later, we were all invited to a group on Snapagram called The Disciples of C, the one you found, and we started posting our findings there. Shortly after, the Herald joined and began posting his cryptic clues, and ever since we've been building evidence and preparing for the Reckoning."
Ford sighed to himself and scribbled down a note in response to what he heard. Dipper tried to quickly remember the last few sentences in an effort to see if he could pick up on the same clue as Ford, but as Stan continued, he lost his train of thought.
"That's another thing," continued Stan, "who do you think this Herald guy is?"
"We've tried to cross-reference group members with people who've been known to be involved with strange coincidences around Gravity Falls, but we haven't had much luck figuring it out. A going theory among group members is that the Herald is your nephew, Dipper."
Dipper's eyes widened in surprise. Stan burst out laughing. "Oh man, that's a good one. What makes them think that?"
"It's a pretty compelling idea if you think about it. Someone with their pulse on the weird and unnatural, is good at solving mysteries and uncovering hidden clues. The Herald has to be someone on his level at least. But personally, I think if Dipper was the Herald, he wouldn't be doing it under a code name. He's shown time and again he's not willing to bow to the Gravity Falls elite. Someone more worried about the blowback coming with the Reckoning would need to keep a low profile, and I respect that."
Dipper wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or insulted. While it was nice to be recognized for his monster hunting and conspiracy cracking abilities, he certainly didn't want to be attached to the Herald by association. And he especially didn't like the tone the man had given to the phrase 'Gravity Falls elite', which felt like an idle threat towards the Northwest family.
"And you think this Reckoning has something to do with the Shack?"
There was silence behind Dipper for a moment, broken only when the unremarkable voice chuckled knowingly. "Hope to see you soon, Stan." He turned to leave the diner himself. Stan stood in the center of the diner, watching him depart. After he passed, Dipper immediately looked to Wendy, who shrugged in response. 'Someone that neither Stan nor Wendy recognizes. Who does that even leave?'
"Stanley, I-" began Ford, but Stan held out his hand as a warning to stay silent. He continued watching the man with the unremarkable voice until he heard the bell above the front door chime to announce his departure. Letting free a heavy exhale, Stan walked over to the party's table, sliding in next to Wendy.
After a moment of silence, he grimaced and said "So we should probably warn Soos that these maniacs are gonna try to break into his house at some point."