"Well alright then, thanks for chattin', Candy! Hope to hear from you again soon!"

Mabel watched with mild amusement as Candy ended her call and threw Grenda's phone down onto the carpet with an angry groan, fresh off her latest prank call dare. She, Candy, and Grenda sat in a circle on the floor, surrounded by snack food. They hadn't moved from Grenda's basement den in hours, and the empty wrappers and chip bags were beginning to pile up around them, giving Mabel a gnawing feeling for a change in scenery.

She checked her watch, and the plastic cat face on her wrist read 2:45 back to her. Soos' Mystery Shack party didn't start until 5:30, but given they were more or less party VIPs, she didn't feel like arriving early was off the table. And besides, she reasoned that there was only so long that she could spend speculating about Dipper's misadventures before checking in with him. "Girls, we ready to take this party over to the Mystery Shack?"

Candy immediately jumped to her feet, more than ready to end their game, but Grenda pulled her back down. "COME ON, WE GOT TIME FOR ONE MORE ROUND!"

"But the last one was so embarrassing," whined Candy, throwing her head back in frustration. "When I signed up for Truth or Dare or Don't, I didn't think you'd make me call Gideon and ask him about his hair products. And pretend I was interested in listening."

"Come on, that would have been worse for me and you know it," laughed Mabel. Part of her wondered if she had inadvertently created a future problem for Candy, but frankly, that was half the fun of playing a game like truth or dare in the first place. "Alright, my turn. Lay it on me, girl!"

"TRUTH OR DARE OR DON'T," shouted Grenda, "DO YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND BACK HOME?"

"Dare," came Mabel's all-too-quick reply, and her cheeks flushed red. She feigned embarrassment, considering the specifics and details of her personal life in Piedmont were somewhat complicated, but she couldn't deny that she enjoyed hearing the reaction from her friends as Candy and Grenda gasped. "And before you ask, you know Dipper has my phone and I can't remember his number."

"FINE…" grumbled Grenda, handing over a popcorn bowl fully loaded with folded pieces of paper with numbers written on it. "CALL ONE OF THE WILD CARDS."

Mabel picked up Grenda's phone, pulled out a phone number from the bowl, and started dialing. When she finished and turned on speakerphone, the purple rectangle began loudly playing outgoing ringing sounds. One ring, two rings, three rings…

"Hello?" replied a tired-sounding man as the line finally connected.

"Hello sir, I've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty…" boomed Mabel in a fake deep voice. On the other end of the line, there was a sigh.

"I'm not in the mood for buffoonery, I've had… a very trying week."

"Buffoonery?" asked Mabel, holding her mouth to stifle back a giggle. "Why, I'm just trying to help you, sir."

"Is that so? Then I have a sincere question," the man on the other end asked. This time, in addition to sounding tired, his speech slurred as well.

Mabel snorted, looking at Grenda and Candy with a look of confused amusement. Grenda and Candy, by contrast, exchanged a worried glance. "And I've got a sincere answer for ya!"

"How can one prove to their family that they're not a washed-up failure? That they can change the future for the better?"

Mabel's face fell immediately. Without the speaker on the other end having to say it, she was now keenly aware that she had prank called Preston Northwest. From her conversations with Dipper (and her own personal experience earlier in the break), she knew that Preston had done many things to make him worthy of ridicule. But hearing the bleakness in his voice over the phone, Mabel's bleeding heart dropped in her chest, and the prank calling immediately stopped being fun for her. She looked expectantly at Grenda and Candy, who looked back at her equally unsure of how to respond. Mabel gestured to the phone, silently yet insistently.

"Sir, are you okay right now?" Candy nervously chimed in. The three girls leaned into the phone, waiting anxiously for the response.

"Oh capital, there's more of you," the voice laughed and hiccuped. "Priscilla should be home soon, and the constra-... the confra-... the contractors are here fixing the walls. I'm quite safe, except for my feelings. Never liked those. Father always said, 'feelings are for the poor.' Fine fellow, he's dead now."

The drunken words hung in the air, leaving the trio with nothing to listen to but scratchy static through the phone and the droning of a furnace from elsewhere in Grenda's house.

"Well, if you think you'll be alright," said Mabel cautiously. She held out the phone to hang up, but just before she did, she relented and moved the phone back up towards her face. "Mr. Northwest, I think your family loves you and needs you to be there for them. Not as a bank account, but as a dad."

There was silence on the other end for a long pause. "I just don't know how," came the eventual response, followed by a digital tone as the line was terminated from the other end.

Mabel, Grenda, and Candy stared at the now-silent phone, each wordlessly questioning what they were even doing.

"So," began Candy, slowly stretching out the sound, "how about that Mystery Shack party?"

The other two girls mumbled in agreement, and the three got up from the floor to start getting ready. Mabel retreated to a bathroom, located adjacent to the den, and started to toy with her hair slightly as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. But despite her general enthusiasm for parties and the way that her hair looked perfectly Mabel at that moment, she found herself unable to get Preston Northwest out of her thoughts. 'I wonder if there's time left in the break for me to help him,' she thought absently.

With a look somewhere between concerned and frustrated, Ford looked out the diner window for the tenth time in nearly as many minutes. With a sigh, he finally said "Alright, I think we're safe to begin talking about what we overheard."

"Finally," grunted Stan, aggressively rolling his eyes. Dipper wasted no time, handing his notepad over to Stan to review. Squinting at the uneven handwriting through his glasses, Stan nodded along to confirm Dipper's suspicions as accurate. "Pretty good, kid. Honestly, pretty shocked to see Janice Valentino there. They're all kooky but in completely unrelated ways. Hard to wrap my head around."

"And you're sure you didn't recognize the last guy? The one with the unremarkable voice?" asked Dipper.

"It's weird," said Stan, "I feel like I've seen his face somewhere before, but I can't remember where, or have any idea what his name might be. It's killing me."

"Well, it doesn't make our lives any easier, but I think we have to accept a new theory," began Ford, staring at his notebook, "Based on what we've learned, we're not looking for one Herald, but two. Like the man had said after the group dispersed, the Disciples social media group predated the first post from the Herald. Someone laid the tracks, someone else is driving the train."

"I'd at least feel a bit better if I thought we were any closer to knowing who one Herald might be," groaned Dipper, absently chewing on his pen.

"Oh, I can think of two," said Wendy darkly, stabbing a fork into the remainder of her taco. "Sorry Dipper, I shouldn't have dismissed it when you brought it up in the wine cellar, but if they're chasing spray-painted Bill Ciphers around town and it's a joke at Janice Valentino's expense? It's either Robbie and Tambry or Robbie on his own."

"It doesn't quite add up with everything else we've learned though," said Dipper, shaking his head and biting harder into the pen. As Pacifica passed by with a pot of coffee for another table, she stopped momentarily to swat the pen from Dipper's mouth. "Right. Sorry."

"Dork," Pacifica chuckled under her breath before continuing on with her duties.

Wendy scoffed, throwing her arms up in annoyance at Dipper's reversal. "What do you mean, man? It's obvious, and it was your idea in the first place."

"Robbie definitely could have started the group, I'm not ruling that out," explained Dipper. "But keeping all this going, just to play a prank on his mom?"

"Dude, he hates his family."

"If he's the one spray painting Bill around town, why would he suddenly stop using Bill in the posts once he starts up the Herald account? If Robbie's not behind that account and we focus all our energy on him, the real Herald could do more damage and we'd be back where we started." Dipper turned to the elder Pines, looking to gauge their reactions. Ford returned his expectant look with a grin, impressed. Stan, on the other hand, stared blankly into a cup of coffee, looking exhausted.

"Dipper's right," said Ford, "We still don't know enough to know for certain. But there's one thing that's gravely concerning. Stanley," he turned his attention to his brother. Stan continued looking down, staring past his coffee and into the patterns on the table. "That photograph you saw, it showed the pages from my journal, didn't it?"

Stan let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "If only. It's worse and weirder. The plans from your journals were etched into a rock in the woods."

Ford blinked. "Pardon me?"

"I said what I said."

"I don't like the sound of etched," said Dipper, cautiously taking a drink from his mug of coffee. "Everything else we can explain away as a prank by an internet troll, but... who would know enough about the portals to do something like that? I don't know... that level of effort tracks a lot closer to possession."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," replied Ford, holding out his hands as he backpedaled. He sat still for a moment, before picking up his pen to absently draw circles on his notepad.

Dipper watched Ford as he pondered, feeling a growing sense of frustration with his great uncle. Ford was willing to listen to and agree with his theories regarding the Disciples group, but even when evidence seemed to suggest a larger problem that related back to Bill in some manner, Ford refused to even consider it. 'Why is he being so weird about this? Is he still beating himself up about summoning Bill decades ago? Or is he too proud to admit that we could have failed to defeat him?'

"Maybe at some point during Weirdmageddon, Bill left those carvings around the Gravity Falls area, like as some kind of contingency plan," Ford finally spoke, wondering aloud. "Or it could have been a residual effect on the nearby environment from using the portal in the first place. Or maybe my journals fell out of the Bottomless Pit somewhere nearby."

"Sixer," pressed Stan, "it's stupid to dismiss it entirely. You were afraid to tell me anything about Bill for months out of fear that I'd remember him back into existence."

"Yes, and I dismissed that fear as irrational," countered Ford, glaring at Stan. "You're sitting here talking about him right now, and nothing has happened. It's not possible."

"Maybe," countered Dipper, "but what if you're wrong?" Dipper stopped short of voicing his full thoughts - he had also wondered what would happen if Stan's memory of Weirdmageddon had returned, and if that would create a backdoor for Bill to return from oblivion. Whether or not the theory had ultimately been proven incorrect, he strongly disagreed that it had been an irrational fear.

"Whatever the case," continued Ford, pointedly ignoring Dipper's question to his visible annoyance, "our next steps are clear. We need to-"

"Go find Robbie and force an explanation out of his stupid face," interjected Wendy, nodding.

"And," added Ford, annoyed, "we need to investigate this rock carving of my journals, as well as warn Soos and Melody that there may be party crashers tonight. Stan and I can head to the Mystery Shack, you and Dipper find Robbie and figure out what he knows."

"I know exactly where he is too," chuckled Wendy, cracking her knuckles. Dipper laughed nervously at her eagerness, hoping that wherever Robbie was, it was somewhere he could duck for cover. But his momentary response to Wendy's rage faded and he was left once again wondering about the carved rock in the forest. More specifically, he couldn't shake his frustration that Ford refused to even consider Bill playing a role in this.

'Maybe,' he thought to himself cynically, 'Bill being a part of this would make him second guess returning to portal research, and he doesn't want to give it up again.' But he forced the thought from his mind. Ford might be determined to crack interdimensional travel, but he wouldn't willfully ignore facts that didn't support his desired conclusion. 'Right?'

The party exited the booth and proceeded towards the front register to cash out. As Ford and Stan began to squabble over who should pick up the tab, Pacifica rushed out from behind the counter, catching up with Dipper.

"You're leaving?" she asked in surprise. "I thought you'd stay and hang out until it was time for the party at the Mystery Shack."

"I wish I could, Pacifica," replied Dipper, watching as his response sent Pacifica's gaze to the floor. "But we've got a lead to follow and if we don't, a lot of people could get hurt. Or worse."

Pacifica said nothing for a moment, considering her options. "Could you at least hang on a sec and see if Susan will let me go early?" she finally asked, her voice masking just a hint of nervousness. While the idea of taking Pacifica along for the ride certainly thrilled Dipper, the mystery of the Herald was getting more dangerous, and he wondered if bringing her along was a smart decision. However, when Pacifica looked back up to meet his eyes, raising her eyebrows as if to say 'I can handle myself, you know,' he found himself nodding. Immediately, Pacifica's face brightened again.

"Great, wait here," said Pacifica, wandering off to meet Susan near the refill station. Dipper watched as Pacifica explained her case to Susan, was met with a smile and a pat on the arm, and reacted to the good news by leaping in the air and taking off for the back for her things. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, and suddenly became aware of the gift box in his pants pocket. 'Right. That still needs to happen sometime tonight.'

"I don't care how many times you paid for us back in the old neighborhood," bellowed Stan, "the pizza on the boardwalk was 60 cents a slice!"

Grimacing, Wendy turned back to Dipper. "We don't need to wait around for this to play out, do we?" She gestured towards the Pines twins behind her, bickering in front of the cash register while Lazy Susan stood idly by, patiently waiting for them to decide who was going to pay the bill. Dipper shook his head, and Wendy motioned for them to exit. As she turned towards the door, Pacifica snuck back next to Dipper, bundled up and with a grin plastered on her face.

"Thanks for visiting Greasy's, don't forget to like us on Snapagram!" Susan called out to Wendy and Dipper, raising her voice above Stan and Ford.

Wendy turned to hold the exit door open for Dipper, expecting him to be immediately behind her, and suddenly became aware of the additional member in the party. Pacifica returned her surprised glance with a grin. "Huh. Alright, you get the middle seat," she said, suggestively raising her eyebrows when she made eye contact with Dipper. Awkwardly, Dipper turned to Pacifica, and she winked back.

Dipper had once wondered if his close friendship with Wendy would ever be an issue for Pacifica, as he had assumed her privileged upbringing and competitiveness would add up to her being prone to jealousy. But during one of their late-night gaming sessions, Pacifica had pried the story of Dipper's embarrassingly one-sided summer romance out of him, and that was more than enough for her to conclude Wendy wasn't her romantic rival. While he was glad Pacifica wouldn't feel threatened or uncomfortable, she laughed just a bit too loud at the story. And that stung a bit.

The three of them piled into Wendy's truck, with Pacifica struggling to get comfortable in the center of the bench seat. "So where are we headed?" asked Dipper as he pulled his seatbelt across his chest.

"Gravity Falls Mall," Wendy replied with disdain.

"Oh, I appreciate the thought, but that's not necessary," Pacifica politely declined. "I'm not that kind of Northwest anymore."

"It's not a trip for you, Princess," snorted Wendy. Pacifica wrinkled her nose in annoyance, glancing over at Dipper to ensure he noted her displeasure. "It's for me."

The Stanmobile clattered to a stop just a stone's throw away from the Mystery Shack, crunching into a snowbank along the side of the woods. As Ford and Stan emerged from opposite sides of the car, the sun was beginning to sink to the treeline. Given that it was the towering Oregon treeline, they still had more than enough light for their work, but it was still an ominous sign that they were running out of time.

"Any idea where we should be looking?" Ford asked, taking a moment to scan the underbrush with a bulky handheld device, complete with awkwardly large antennae.

"'Five minutes away from the Mystery Shack' can mean a lot of things," grunted Stan. "I interpreted it as a five-minute drive, as I can't imagine walking five minutes away from the Shack in this weather. Hopefully I'm right."

"Agreed," nodded Ford. The device in his hand made a warbling sound briefly as Ford turned in place. He turned back in the opposite direction, slowing and calibrating as he pinpointed the direction the signal was coming from. "Looks like we've got something. This way."

The elder Pines began to trudge slowly through the deep snow, Ford carefully watching to ensure they were still heading in the direction prescribed by the monitor. While the crunching of the snow and dead leaves was loud, it wasn't loud enough that Stan couldn't hear his brother muttering to himself under his breath. 'That can only mean two things,' Stan predicted. 'Either he's building up the courage to talk to me about his feelings, or he's so into his machine that he's forgotten I'm here.'

"Listen, Stan," said Ford, "about earlier in the wine cellar…"

'Door Number One it is...'

"Forget it," dismissed Stan. "I'm over it."

"Yes, but I'm not," replied Ford bluntly. "I should have been more forthright about my intentions. It's not fair of me to try and keep something of that magnitude away from the family."

Stan said nothing in response, continuing to crunch his way through the snow. Ford sighed, abruptly stopped, and turned around to face his brother. Stan stubbornly looked away.

"Stanley, I don't want this technology to fall into the wrong hands. But I also don't want to lose my family ever again. If continuing portal research makes you uncomfortable, I'll give it up." Ford extended an arm out to clasp Stan's shoulder, prompting a disheartened glance back.

"You've always been the brains of the operation," said Stan, allowing his voice to soften slightly. "If you say that there's a way to build that thing so that it's safe, I shouldn't pretend I'm smart enough to disagree. I'm…" he paused awkwardly, having to overcome years of bullheaded pride to continue, "...sorry I was so quick to assume you'd cause another disaster."

"Don't be sorry, be the one there to keep me from doing it," chuckled Ford with a kindly grin.

"But since we're on the subject, you gotta answer me one thing," continued Stan, his voice hardening once again.

"Anything. Name it."

"Why are you suddenly going cold on Dipper?"

Ford scoffed and shook his head derisively, crossing his arms. "What do you mean, going cold on Dipper? I'm doing no such thing."

Frowning back at his brother, Stan groaned in annoyance. 'Typical. Sixer's gonna deny everything until I cajole it out of him. For a smart guy, he's pretty predictable.'

"You don't think I noticed when you flat out ignored his question back in the diner?" Stan gestured backward with his thumb to punctuate his remark.

Ford stared back at him for a moment. But as he opened his mouth to reply, he struggled to meet Stan's gaze and turned slightly. "I didn't mean to ignore him," he muttered quietly. Buried below layers of stubborn pride, Stan heard in Ford's reply a hint of hurt. 'Time to lean in.'

"You know how he is. He's going to play that moment in his head over and over and come to the conclusion that you don't want his help anymore."

"Nothing could be further from the truth."

Stan threw his arms up, ratcheting up the intensity of the conversation with exaggerated annoyance. "Then why can't you answer the question? What if you're wrong about-"

"Because I don't know!" cried Ford in a sudden outburst. Stan took in a startled gasp of cold air, which sat uncomfortably in his chest as Ford's exclamation echoed through the empty woods. After a few heavy breaths, visibly hanging in the frigid air, Ford collected himself. "You remember what I was like on the Stan O' War after I finally told you about Bill, don't you?"

"Of course. You were a nervous wreck for weeks. Made the journey back home kind of a bummer if we're being honest here."

"Thanks, Stanley," replied Ford tersely, before diving back into his recollection. "The only way I was able to get over the fear of the possibility that Bill could return from your memory was to mock and belittle it, to make it small enough to free myself from the adrenaline long enough to intellectualize it. And I'm afraid that if I entertain the idea for too long, I'll end up wallowing in my fear and guilt over Weirdmageddon all over again."

Ford turned back to Stan, the regret and sadness plastered across his face. While he preferred to make snappy retorts than relitigate the past, Stan remembered the trip home from the Arctic a bit differently. He remembered many evenings in the bunk of the ship, sitting patiently while Ford lay under the covers of his bed, immobilized by his fear and anxiety. And as Ford voiced his worries to Stan, he didn't contradict him, he didn't argue. He didn't even joke, at least at first. He just listened, acknowledged, and said that if his worst fears came to pass, they'd face them together. And then he'd brew Ford a cup of chamomile tea and read until he fell asleep.

"Look, obviously I don't want that to happen," sighed Stan, "but you can't take that out on the kid. It isn't right, and without explaining what you just explained to me, you're either going to make him feel dumb for suggesting the idea, or make him feel dumb for being afraid. And I know signs aren't really pointing towards the worst-case scenario right now, but if we act like it's taboo to even discuss, it's just going to make it all the more horrifying if it does happen. God forbid."

"You're right, Stan," admitted Ford. "I owe Dipper an apology when we see him."

"Good man," smiled Stan, pulling his brother into a quick hug. After the obligatory back pats, they separated, and Stan could tell the weight of Ford's fear had lightened again.

With a thin smile and a leading gesture with his arm, Ford spun back around, recalibrated his handheld device, and continued to lead Stan deeper into the woods. For a moment, the only sound was boots crunching into the snow and the swish of wind-repellant fabric. But just as Stan was ready to refocus on the mission, another strange, unresolved thought entered his mind.

"Okay, one more question," inquired Stan. "I gotta know about those pictures you had on your mission control screen of my ex-wife. What was that about?"

Ford laughed, shaking his head knowingly. "Trust me, Stanley. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Wait a minute…" Ford stopped again as the handheld device began to warble and beep louder.

"There it is," cried Stan, pointing towards a rock peeking out through the snow. It was roughly the size of a bowling ball, but was shaped so that it was slightly wider than it was tall. Clearly burnt into the side of the stone were the schematics Ford had drawn of the portal, decades ago. With effort, Ford hoisted the rock up into his arms and stared at the image intently.

"Let's see what we've got," observed Ford, sticking his handheld device up to the rock.

"What's that going to do?" asked Stan, frowning. "I thought that was some kind of scanner, or compass or something."

"It's all of the above and more," Ford explained absently. "Kind of a multi-tool I learned how to build on my interdimensional travels. I can scan things, look for evidence, unlock doors..."

Stan's ears perked up. "Can I borrow that later?"

"No, you may not. According to this…" Ford trailed off, squinting at the device. His eyes darted from one side of the reading to the other, reading it multiple times to ensure he was seeing it correctly.

"What is it?" Stan asked, growing uncomfortable the longer Ford waited to fill him in.

"It's not good," Ford admitted, his voice low and solemn. "These carvings are only a few days old. I disposed of the journals in the Bottomless Pit months ago, and these are a perfect rendering, carved into solid rock like it's made of styrofoam."

"How is that possible?" asked Stan, leaning in to look at the stone himself. Ford was right, not only were the portal plans carved into the rock, but they looked identical to the way Ford had drawn them inside his journals. Having spent a good portion of the summer pouring over the plans in the laboratory under the Mystery Shack, he found himself drawing connections between the components depicted and pieces of the portal he had repaired. 'Though,' he thought, 'maybe it's part of that hole in my memory, but something about this feels... different. Somehow.'

"I don't know," replied Ford, "I had really hoped that this would end up being a relic from Weirdmageddon, but something here isn't adding up, and I don't like where the numbers are trending." As Ford's face fell, Stan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Lost in thought, it took him a moment to register the gesture, but as soon as he did, he shook his head to recenter himself and squinted back at his readings.

"So what do we do now?" asked Stan, looking from Ford back down to the carvings in the stone.

"Well, a good place to start would be to start looking for clues around here. If…" Ford suddenly stopped, almost unable to verbalize what he considered impossible. "If... Bill is possessing someone right now, he's doing it in some way that my equipment at the Manor isn't able to track. If we're going to seriously consider this lead, we'll need a direction to follow."

Ford turned, expecting to share a reassuring glance with Stan, but instead found him missing from the spot he had been standing in. After pivoting around and squinting through the rows of trees, Ford finally recognized Stan's weathered jacket several yards away, and drifting further into the distance.

"Stanley!" he called out. Stan, hearing his voice, turned and waved Ford over. Grunting as he carried the weight of the stone through the deep snow, Ford slowly made his way over to where Stan had relocated. "Why did you…" he began, before taking stock of his surroundings.

Directly to Stan's left was one of the county roads that crossed through Gravity Falls. Absent of traffic, the road was eerily silent and open, just a long scar through an otherwise endless expanse of trees. Besides the woods, the asphalt, and the Pines twins, there was only one other thing in the immediate vicinity, and Stan was staring right at it.

It was the Speedy Beaver bus stop, where Dipper and Mabel's summer in Oregon had started and ended. Right now it was empty, but the way Stan was staring at it, Ford could tell that he was currently remembering a time when it was occupied. "Stanley?" he asked quietly.

"Five minutes away from the Mystery Shack," repeated Stan. "Not by car, but by bus. I think I know where I've seen the man with the unremarkable voice."

As if by cursed ironic timing, the Pines twins could hear the rumbling of an engine from up the road. Echoing off the icy pavement, the sound grew as a Speedy Beaver bus emerged from around a bend in the road. The bus approached the pair, engaging hydraulic brakes with a hiss and slowing to a dead stop in front of them at its designated space.

Even after the gift-giving holidays of winter had passed, the Gravity Falls Mall was still a hive of activity. Shoppers still clamored for the holiday decor and candy now being sold at a discount, children could be seen running and laughing in the newly refurbished arcade, and teenagers awkwardly held hands on their group dates to the food court.

It was hard for Dipper to believe that the last time he had seen this place was when it had been reduced to a post-apocalyptic ruin in the time of Weirdmageddon. He shuddered to himself at the memory, but shook the thoughts from his mind. 'Stay focused, Dipper,' he repeated to himself. He glanced sideways towards Pacifica, watching as her eyes quickly scanned the mannequins and outfits in window displays that they passed. As much as her values had changed, Dipper noted, she still had a discerning eye for fashion.

As Dipper and Pacifica struggled to keep up with Wendy's grueling pace, they realized they were approaching Edgy on Purpose, an alternative apparel store that marketed a corporate-sanctioned version of counter culture to teens. For the longest time, Dipper had assumed by looking at the store from outside that there would be nothing inside that would appeal to him. But as they passed rows of t-shirts and collectible toys from major brands and Saturday morning cartoons he recognized, it dawned on him that there really wasn't much "edgy" happening inside, whether by accident or on purpose. Overhead on the television screens, a pop punk band performed in front of the symbol Dipper recognized from Robbie's hoodie. 'Huh. I guess that tracks.'

Wendy strolled up to a pink-haired girl working the counter, idly flipping through a magazine. "Yo, is Robbie here today?" she asked. Without looking up, the girl pointed towards the back of the store.

"Yeesh," breathed Wendy to Dipper as they continued deeper into the store. "Is that what I'm like?" Before Dipper could respond, the party noticed Robbie standing in front of a display of bland vinyl figures made to look like various characters from media franchises. Robbie bobbed his head back and forth to the music playing throughout the store, carefully rearranging the boxes to create an attractive display.

"Robbie!" Wendy called out, angrily striding forward. Robbie turned and immediately recognized the group, greeting them with a smile and wave. While he largely looked the same as usual given the lax dress code of Edgy on Purpose, he still looked strange to Dipper as he sported his customer service smile and a tagging gun on his hip.

"Hey there," he greeted. "You here for our eternal buy-two get-one-a-third off sale? I should have guessed you were a Junko collector, Pines."

"Don't change the subject!" shouted Wendy, continuing to stride forward and raising her fist, forcing Robbie to take a nervous step back. He turned to Dipper, looking for some kind of explanation for what was happening.

"What's her problem, Pines?"

"Someone's been tagging Bill Cipher on walls in Gravity Falls," explained Dipper, "and since that's your medium of choice, we figured we'd give you a chance to explain why."

Robbie laughed in recognition, turning back to Wendy. Quickly, his customer-facing smile had morphed into a self-satisfied sneer. Not expecting this reaction, Wendy lowered her fists, the anger draining from her face into a look of confusion. "You're upset about that? Seriously?" taunted Robbie. "Learn to take a joke." He turned back to the figure display, shaking his head.

"Excuse me?" exploded Wendy, pushing Robbie towards the towering display. Dipper's eyes widened, expecting him to crash into the tower of figurines, but despite teetering backward, Robbie managed to regain his balance before falling into the display and defensively raised his hands up, preparing for whatever was coming next.

"Why are you so mad, bro?" Robbie scoffed, stepping to the side to avoid being pushed again. Wendy lunged, but Robbie was too quick, and she charged into a rack of band t-shirts. Growling in frustration, she caught herself before fully crashing into the rack, spinning around to try again.

Pacifica turned her gaze to the front of the store, where several other customers and employees looked on with interest and fear. She turned back to Dipper, her lips pursed as she tried to verbalize her confusion. "Was this what we wanted to happen?" she finally asked quietly, in the hopes that Wendy wouldn't overhear her. "How is this helping?"

"It's not... ideal," replied Dipper diplomatically. "I'd prefer we'd get answers before we get thrown out by security." Pacifica returned to observing, carefully watching Robbie as he continued to duck and weave his way through merchandise to keep away from Wendy.

"Admit it!" accused Wendy, "You're the one posting the weird messages online making the town go crazy!"

"You've lost it, Corduroy," Robbie shouted back. "Get away from me!" Thinking quickly as Wendy lunged in his direction, Robbie grabbed a plush toy of an octopus off a shelf and tossed it at Wendy's head. With fuzzy tentacles obscuring her vision, she crashed headfirst into the display of Junko figurines, sending the tower collapsing on top of her.

Robbie winced as he watched his hard work disappear in a moment of cascading vinyl figures, his head immediately swiveling towards his co-workers in a panic. But he quickly bounced back into the moment and, having secured a moment of safety from Wendy, Robbie rushed back over to Dipper and Pacifica. "Pines, you've got to help me. She's gone crazy!"

"She's known to do that when someone is messing with her dad," Dipper replied dryly, looking down at his nails absently to ensure Robbie understood that he would not, under any circumstances, step between him and Wendy. He shot a quick glance to Pacifica, hoping that she would be amused by his response. But instead, she was staring in the direction of Robbie, deep in thought. Suddenly, Robbie grabbed his shoulders, pulling his attention back towards him.

"I didn't set out to screw with her dad, honest!" he pleaded, turning to see Wendy pulling herself to her feet from within the pile of figures, seething with rage. "You gotta believe me, it was just a joke!"

"What's the joke?" asked Pacifica, in a disarmingly calm voice.

Dipper turned to Pacifica, surprised that she had chimed in. Robbie turned as well, letting go of Dipper's shoulders and tilting his head in confusion. Even Wendy, who had been readying herself to lunge at Robbie again, stopped in her tracks. It wasn't just her question to Robbie that pulled their attention, however. Pacifica's posture had shifted from a leisurely stance to leaning in, arms crossed, eyes staring daggers in Robbie's direction. Dipper had become numb to the phrase 'it's just a joke' from years of hearing it thrown his direction in school, so to see it get this kind of reaction from Pacifica was a shock.

"Well?" Pacifica chided, with no change in expression.

"What are you talking about?" mumbled Robbie. He seemed genuinely confused, but Dipper also noted a bit of defensiveness beginning to creep into Robbie's body language. Almost like he was beginning to feel self-conscious.

"Explain it to me," she repeated, her tone eerily sincere and her expression blank, "What's the joke?"

Robbie looked around, scratching the back of his head. "I mean… I guess it's…"

"See, I think you're struggling to answer the question," continued Pacifica, the sincerity in her voice giving way to an icy scold, "because you know this wasn't a joke. You knew you were doing something to hurt people. Maybe you found it funny because you're, like, a social wretch, and projecting your pain onto others makes you happy in some sad little way."

"Hey!" cried Robbie, looking back and forth for someone to chime in and defend him. When Robbie looked to Dipper, he just smiled and shrugged.

"But now that you've been caught, you either have to face the harm you caused and accept how pathetic you are for taking enjoyment from it, or you have to wrap it up in irony and pretend that anyone who took you seriously was being pranked. That's the bonus joke for you, isn't it? Gaslighting them, like they're too stupid to understand your brilliant, groundbreaking sense of humor. What a wonderful way to prove how alone you really are."

With every word, Pacifica tore into Robbie's soul with surgical precision. If his attempts to interrupt and protest didn't convey his pain, it clearly showed in his body language as his posture slumped and he stared at the floor. At the start of her diatribe, Dipper had thought that maybe Pacifica had been just venting over something on her mind, but the longer she spoke, the more it dawned on him that she was just incredibly skilled at reading people, finding their weaknesses, and tearing them to shreds without mercy.

Wendy, who had just finished tiptoeing out of Pacifica's line of fire, leaned in close to Dipper. "Dude, she's terrifying," she whispered.

Objectively, Dipper could agree with Wendy. But for whatever reason, he found himself absolutely hypnotized by the skill with which she deployed her words. Even more bewildering, he found the confidence and ability she was demonstrating to be incredibly alluring. 'Wow, I really don't have time to unpack that right now,' he thought.

"Nobody's laughing at your stupid jokes, Robbie," said Pacifica, going in for the kill. "How about you tell us what we want to know, so we can go clean up your mess for you. And then you can get back to the real joke here: your sad, creepy life."

"Alright, you win," mumbled Robbie, his voice low and defeated. Pacifica beamed in triumph, turning to Dipper with an excited thumbs up. He laughed awkwardly in response, left even more confused by her rapid shift of mood. He couldn't even begin to understand the amount of emotional control and willpower required to pull off that kind of reversal.

After a long moment of trembling silence, Robbie began. "Sometime around November, Tambry and I got really bored, and I was doodling a bit in one of my journals. For whatever reason, I can't remember, I drew Bill. Tambry said that it would be a punk 'screw you' to the town if we painted him everywhere. You know, because we're not supposed to talk about it? And he's a lot easier to paint than a mushroom cloud, so we hit some spots. Here…"

Robbie pulled out his phone and held it out to Wendy. She scrolled through the gallery, frowning at picture after picture of graffiti Bill Cipher in various Gravity Falls locales. "So when did you make the Disciples of C group?" asked Dipper.

Robbie's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you figure out that was me?"

"Lucky guess, keep going," ordered Pacifica.

"I don't know," shrugged Robbie. "I was on my mom's computer changing all her passwords when I saw the discussion on the community message board. People who weren't awake during Weirdmageddon, trying to figure out why they're all dreaming about a dancing triangle. I thought it would be funny to make a group and then post my tags in there, get them riled up over nothing."

"Are you behind the Herald account too, then?" asked Wendy. Alarmed, Robbie immediately raised his hands up in protest.

"No! That wasn't us, honestly. We were weirded out by the people in the group by then, and that was the last straw. It was just like, Herald would post a picture of a bird and all the comments were about how it made them want to overthrow the government because it was looking in one direction or another. I'd say it was a joke but you're right, we realized something was super wrong about it and just walked away. I'm... I'm sorry."

"Alright, so let's shut down the group right now and end this," said Dipper.

Robbie shook his head. "We can't, Tambry made it with her account and she's working a pool party at the community center tonight. Her boss is this total spaz who makes her lock up her phone." Dipper and Wendy exchanged a grimace, as they had first-hand experience with the level of devotion the local lifeguard brought to his work.

"Make sure she shuts it down the minute she gets off work," said Wendy, jabbing her finger into Robbie's chest to punctuate her demand. He cowered and nodded in defeat. Looking him up and down, she sighed in frustration. "I'm really disappointed in you, man." Robbie opened his mouth to apologize again, but Wendy had already turned back to Dipper and Pacifica. "Let's get out of here."

As the party began to walk out of the store, Pacifica stopped and spun around to face Robbie one last time. He stared back timidly, his hands fumbling as he tried to anticipate what more she had in store for him. Finally, she smiled sweetly and waved.

"Have a nice day," she said, using her customer service voice to full effect, before turning heel to leave with Dipper and Wendy. As they left, they passed the pink-haired girl, who was pushing past racks of earrings in a rush towards Robbie. Dipper listened with mild satisfaction as the girl, who was apparently the assistant manager of the store, started to angrily tear into Robbie over his carelessness with the merchandise.

As they emerged from the darkness of Edgy on Purpose, Wendy strode out in front to face Pacifica. "How did you do that?" she asked breathlessly, and to Dipper's ears, he couldn't tell if she was expressing admiration or fighting back her own terror. To Dipper's surprise, Pacifica wasn't reveling in her success. In fact, she struggled to make eye contact with either of them, and her expression looked pained. Almost... ashamed.

Pacifica took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then slowly let it out. "It's…" she began, now starting to feel self-conscious. "It's not exactly something I'm proud of. Not anymore at least. Being rich is a ruthless, cutthroat sport. But there's an unspoken, golden rule amongst the upper class - you can harm anyone beneath you and the system won't punish you, but if you harm someone rich, they'll bury you alive without a second thought. So when you can't physically or financially hurt someone, you learn how to scar them emotionally. And as you're well aware at this point, my parents pushed me to be the best. At everything. I don't expect you to understand, but..."

As she trailed off, Pacifica stared straight into the middle distance at shoppers wandering throughout the mall.

"Hey, uhhh..." began Wendy awkwardly, "kind of a random thing to bring up, but I'm sorry about calling you Princess earlier. That was lame of me." Wendy's sudden timidness caught Dipper off guard, and he immediately responded with a dirty look in her direction. While he was glad she was apologizing, he knew the only effect it would have right now would be to make Pacifica feel even more guilty about what she had just done to Robbie.

But if it bothered Pacifica, she didn't show it. She shrugged dismissively in response, showing little to no change in her expression. Wendy watched her face carefully for a moment before turning to Dipper instead. "So... I'll text Stan and Ford to let them know that the group is getting shut down at some point tonight. You two want some hangout time together before we head over to the Shack?"

Pacifica again said nothing, but Dipper nodded. "I've got the Hotline," he said, patting his jacket pocket, "just let me know when it's time to go."

Wendy glanced between Dipper and Pacifica, clearly picking up on a change in vibe, but ultimately said nothing as she waved and departed into the crowd of shoppers at the mall. Dipper gently put a hand on Pacifica's shoulder, and she recoiled slightly at the touch.

"Sorry," she added, walking over towards a bench situated between two vacant, unmanned kiosks. As she sat down, she shrank into herself, continuing to look anywhere but at Dipper.

"For what?" replied Dipper, sitting down with her. He watched her expression change several times as she fumbled with her hands, trying and failing to verbalize her feelings.

After a moment of thought, Pacifica turned. "Some parts of the old me are harder to let go of than others."

"I don't know, your intention has to count for something, right?" asked Dipper earnestly, earning a scoff from Pacifica in response. "No, seriously. Wendy's approach might have worked, but it definitely would have gotten us kicked out of the mall. You single-handedly diffused the situation and got him to admit what he knew. Sure it was cutting, and a bit cruel. But compared to how you used your biting wit in the past, this was definitely a case of using your powers for good. And if that doesn't make you feel better, Wendy's been itching for a fight all day. This whole thing has been messing with her dad, and she's been looking for someone to punish for it. Maybe you left Robbie with some mental wounds today, but you definitely saved him from a beatdown from Wendy. And that's something, right?"

Pacifica said nothing, but her face softened as she considered what Dipper said. She reached her hand out onto the bench between them and found his, giving him a squeeze of affection.

"And besides," Dipper continued, his words slowed with careful consideration, "watching you in action like that was, I don't know, kind of incredible to watch."

Pacifica remained silent for a moment longer, before allowing herself to smirk and laugh softly. "You sure you're not afraid now that I'm going to turn that power onto you? Wendy's treating me completely differently now."

"Believe me, that's a good thing," he muttered to himself. "And besides, I've got a foolproof way to avoid it." Pacifica raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?"

"Yup," he replied confidently, cracking his knuckles and channeling his Grunkle Stan's dry intonation, "it's called 'stay on Pacifica's good side at all costs.". His bluntness caught Pacifica off guard, and she burst out laughing.

"I really hope you're joking," she wheezed as she struggled to regain her composure, "because that would be a really concerning dynamic for our relationship."

She turned back to Dipper in time to see his sheepish grin. It wasn't exactly a secret to Dipper that Pacifica mostly saw him at his most anxious and determined, but as he met her gaze, he felt something he could only describe as magnetism, creating a brief but intense moment of connection between them. He was utterly enchanted with Pacifica Northwest, that much he was sure of.

And it must have been obvious to her too, because her cheeks immediately flushed pink as she returned his smile.

For a single, terrifying moment, the bus ominously idled in front of Stan and Ford. But just as Stan was about to make a snide remark, the door swung open with a hiss of hydraulics. Immediately, Ford's senses were assaulted by a gust of warm air that smelled of fake leather seats and greasy metal. Seated in the driver's seat was the bus's driver - appearing vaguely familiar to Ford, but immediately identifiable to Stan. Eyes widened, he turned to Ford. "That's the guy," he said bluntly, but Ford had already come to the same conclusion.

"Hello Stan, and… I guess that makes you Stanford," greeted the Bus Driver with his unremarkable voice, stepping up from the driver's seat and leaning down towards the twins below him. He looked down to gaze at the boulder wrapped in Ford's arms. "Glad to see you're taking the symbols seriously."

"Who are you?" demanded Ford, cautiously studying the Bus Driver's face. As far as he could tell, he saw no signs of possession by Bill, and the driver's voice, unremarkable as it was, gave no clues either.

"Cooper Beaumont, Speedy Beaver Lines, at your service," Cooper introduced himself. Ford and Stan exchanged a confused look. At this point, it was clear they had vaguely remembered his voice from when they saw Dipper and Mabel off from Gravity Falls at the end of the summer. But that was hardly enough information for them to draw a clear connection between him and Bill Cipher. "Well since you've come all this way, how about we finish this conversation up at the Mystery Shack?"

"I want to know what you're after first," demanded Ford. He handed the boulder off to Stan, who immediately began to struggle under the weight.

Cooper smiled derisively, raising his eyebrows. "I've already told Stan what I'm after. I'm following the Herald's clues to figure out what C wants, just like the rest of us."

Without warning, Ford swiftly strode up the stairs onto the bus, pulled his homemade scanner out of his coat, and placed it up to Cooper's head. While in his mind, he had pictured the interaction as a non-threatening attempt at scientific inquiry, he failed to account for how much his scanner might look like a sci-fi ray gun to the untrained eye. Immediately cowering backward onto his seat, Cooper's tone and disposition shifted from sneering condescension to trembling fear. "Wait, please…"

"Calm down," dismissed Ford, shaking his head. "It's not going to hurt you, it'll just take a reading." This explanation brought Cooper no comfort, and he whimpered nervously to himself. From outside the bus, Ford heard a loud thump, and he assumed that Stan had either finally set the boulder on the ground, or he had lost his balance and fell to the ground with it. In either case, he wasn't going to let it distract him from his work.

Ford fiddled with the settings on the scanner, switching over from carbon dating to brainwave scanning. Moments later, the miniature cathode ray tube screen began to fill with wavy lines, each corresponding with a different activity wave emanating from Cooper's brain.

Immediately, Ford recognized elevated beta waves, the sign of alertness and elevated concentration, but that was to be expected moments after believing that Ford's scanner was a weapon. That explanation tracked with correspondingly low alpha waves, the wave associated with relaxation. The levels of both gamma and delta waves were consistent with statistical norms as well.

It was the last wave on the chart that gave Ford pause. While they weren't behaving with any sort of abnormal intensity, the overall activity level of theta waves being detected from Cooper's brain was worthy of notice. With a flip of a switch, Ford isolated the theta waves on the graph, allowing him to get a closer look.

After a moment of staring at the screen, Ford put down the scanner. "You've been dreaming about this C a lot lately, haven't you?"

Cooper, nervously rubbing the spot on his head where Ford had previously held the scanner, just shrugged awkwardly. "We all have."

"Maybe, but I think you're having a lot more dreams than the rest of the Disciples, is that right?" Ford pressed the question.

"I had a few dreams when the conversation started," explained Cooper. "Now I'm researching the truth every moment when I'm not working. When you get that deep into studying a subject, of course you're going to dream about it every night."

"Of course," Ford replied flatly, his unconvinced tone at odds with his words. He paused for a moment, considering his options. While his scanner was a miracle of multi-verse engineering, it still wasn't sophisticated enough to tell him much more about what was happening inside Cooper's brain than he had already measured. 'We're going to have to somehow get Cooper to one of my laboratories,' concluded Ford, quickly racking his brain for any other way forward than the one he was considering against his better judgment. When he came up empty, he continued, "Tell you what, it sounds like we do need to get you into the Mystery Shack."

"Wait, you do?" exclaimed Cooper, genuinely shocked by the reversal.

"You do?" growled Stan, sticking his head into the conversation from outside the bus doors. His jacket, covered in snow, displayed conclusively that he had lost his balance and fallen over.

"Let me talk to Stanley for a moment," explained Ford, "then we can get you your private tour. Sound like a plan?" Cooper nodded enthusiastically, puffing himself back up to appear confident once more, and Ford stepped down from the bus. Ignoring Stan's frown, he pulled his brother back towards the bus stop, coming to rest once they were both out of Cooper's line of sight.

"Let's hear it," sighed Stan.

"Cooper's brain waves are indicating that his theta waves are unusually elevated," explained Ford, absently brushing the snow from his brother's jacket. When he was met with a blank, confused stare in response, he sighed. "There are five brain waves, two of which interact with sleep. His delta waves, which are associated with healing sleep, are low. And the elevated theta waves are consistent with his pattern of nightmares about Bill."

"So what, we're bringing him to the Shack to give him a nap?" scoffed Stan.

"Not quite what I had in mind," responded Ford drolly, "but I need you to play along so we can get him down to my old lab without him getting suspicious that we're up to something."

"Say no more," came Stan's immediate reply, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

Ford blinked. "I've got to say, I didn't expect you to go along with this so readily."

"You said we needed to find a lead, and a lead the size of a bus found us. I'm not gonna argue with the brains of the operation." Stan punctuated his remark with a smarmy grin. While the two of them didn't always see eye to eye, Ford had grown to understand that there was no better muscle he could rely on than that of Stanley Pines. He chuckled and patted Stan on the shoulder before leading the two of them back out into the open. Cooper watched expectantly as Ford reclaimed the carved stone from a disturbed snowbank, steadied himself, and then climbed up the metal steps to reboard the bus. Stan followed closely behind, plastering a cheesy grin over his rugged face.

"Alright, Cooper, you've won me over," announced Stan, his voice sliding effortlessly back into his old huckster cadence. Once Cooper smiled back at him, he plopped himself down into the first seat available past the yellow line on the floor. "One last tour of the Shack from the original recipe Mr. Mystery, coming right up."