seems like there's a show every night — iii
At first, Pacifica isn't sure what Dipper is gaping at. He's obviously startled by something, but when she looks up, the sky is mostly obscured by the glare of the sun. She steps back into the shade of the stand behind her and shields her eyes with a hand. That's when she sees it, whatever it is. There's a black splotch in the middle of the bright blue sky, an irregular object too far away to be identified.
Her first thought is that it's an air show, like the balloons. Whatever she's looking at is too high up to be a balloon, so maybe it's a formation of planes, and the sound that ripped through the festival was the sonic boom of their acceleration. The thing in the sky is approaching at a tremendous rate, so it could be a bunch of jets. This strikes her as kind of showy for a mid-tier festival like Woodstick, but maybe jets are in this year.
But as the splotch becomes clearer, it seems to be more of a cluster than a formation. Its edges are shifting, sort of fluid. Within the next few seconds, it gets close enough that it's now obvious it's a swarm—a huge cloud of whirling dots. Her chest tightens with anxiety; nothing good comes in swarms.
The other patrons of the festival are beginning to notice. People are stopping to stare upwards, a collective concerned murmuring growing more and more pronounced. No one appears to know what they're looking at. Pacifica decides the best thing to do is what they always do when something unknown and probably dangerous is coming at them, which is to start running. The question is where to run to, as the festival offers little in the way of cover.
"We should run, right?" Pacifica says, gripping one of Dipper's hands.
"Yeah…" Dipper says slowly; he stops looking at the sky and starts looking around, probably doing the same thing she is and attempting to locate the nearest copse of trees, "…we should run."
Hand in hand, they start to run, heading in the general direction of where they came in. Woodstick may be in the middle of a field, but this is Gravity Falls—it's never too far to the next section of forest. Pacifica can see the tree line out past the fence that surrounds the festival.
They make it about halfway to the exit when there's a tremendous woosh of air, buffeting her like shoving arms, and Dipper's hand is torn from hers. She hits the ground hard and stays down, dazed. Unable to trust her legs, she rolls over.
They're robots… like, jet-powered robots! The swarm is comprised of machines that are each roughly the size of an SUV. They are painted white and blue and are all sharp angles and long, pointed beaks. They look like giant, steel hawks; but impressionistic, slightly abstract hawks, without detail or physical accuracy. Like… origami! That's what they look like—they are huge, metallic, origami hawks. They have no eyes or cockpit that she can see, just solid, angled metal sides and triangular heads above their humming wings. They don't fly by flapping, but through some unseen means of propulsion.
The origami-hawks are taking people, swooping down into the fair and snatching victims up in their metal claws. Pacifica watches in horror as one of them grabs the nearest person. It bends its claw around and inserts the screaming unfortunate into a cavity in its torso that reseals once the person is inside. Is that what just happened to Dipper? Where are they taking them, and why?
She scampers to her feet and searches the sky in vain for the robot that took Dipper. They all look exactly the same, and she doesn't see him dangling from any nearby claws. She fights down the fear. He can handle himself. He'll use that big nerd brain and figure out how to escape. Which means she needs to escape so she can meet up with him.
A strange calm descends on her, one which is becoming more familiar as the summer goes on. Okay, so a bunch of awful origami-hawks are kidnapping people. That's bad. But it's still not as bad as an evil triangle almost ending the world. She can do this. She needs to find Dipper, or, failing that, find Mabel so she can help find Dipper.
Pacifica gathers up her courage and sprints for the trees.
Dipper is about a hundred feet in the air before he can grasp what's even happening to him. He can't see; the wind against his face is so violent that keeping his eyes open is impossible, he's fighting for breath. Something is holding him, carrying him into the sky. He has the impression of metal sides and a big, blue claw.
They begin to slow and he's able to open his eyes again. He is trapped in the talons of a robot that looks like the stealth fighter version of a hawk, all hard angles and sharp points. Clearly a radical, morphing robot of some variety, his battered brain supplies with more than a hint of hysteria. Straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon. He's eaten cereal shaped like this.
Despite the intensity of the flight, the robot's grip is incongruously comfortable, and just loose enough for some wiggle room. Dipper turns over and watches, half-stunned by the wind shear, as a piece of equipment pops out of what he thinks is the machine's chin. A bright green light is emitted, passing over him quickly, and then the device (a scanner? A camera?) folds back into the metal carapace. Dipper turns back around, wanting to see where they're going. Their flight speed diminishes even more. The roaring of the wind calms; he thinks the robot is now gliding.
Then it dives.
They fall straight towards a vast silver mirror, and it takes Dipper a few seconds to realize he's looking at the midday sun reflecting off Lake Gravity Falls as he plummets towards it. There's no point in fighting to get free. Even if he succeeds, he'll just hit the water at terminal velocity.
At what feels like the last possible moment, the machine swoops upwards again, its momentum arrested by the maneuver, transforming the fall into a float. Dipper is only twenty, maybe thirty feet from the water. They are now moving slowly enough that the surface of the lake glides past in a shimmering wall; from his angle, facing downwards, it's like the lake has become a waterfall. Despite the circumstances, he can't help but be moved by the beauty of the spectacle as their glide takes them ever lower, sinking towards the mirrored sky.
His appreciation of the view ends quickly enough when the machine unceremoniously drops him. "Hey— AAHHHHH—"
He hits the water at an angle and rolls across the top of it like a water skier in mid-wipeout. Within the next second, he loses enough speed to make a final splash and quickly sinks. He surfaces a moment later, coughing and wiping water from his eyes. It's a short swim to shore and he splashes up the beach, wringing water from his hat, trying to figure out exactly where he is. He knows he's somewhere on the interior shore because the cliffs are at his back, which means the town is somewhere ahead. That's lucky, but he still has ground to cover.
He can't fathom what's happening. A year ago, he would have assumed that McGucket built an army of robo-hawks for some deeply personal and possibly mildly nefarious reason, and they just got away from him, as robo-creations are wont to do. But McGucket isn't in the mad scientist business anymore—or at least not in the public endangerment version of it. Besides, these new machines are too neat, too symmetrical, too austere. They have none of McGucket's homemade charm or the accompanying jank.
No doubt Great-Uncle Ford either knows what's going on or has an idea or two, but Dipper can't go to the Shack, not yet. Mabel and Wendy are at the festival, but they can handle themselves; no doubt Wendy will regroup with Mabel and her friends and present a united front. But Pacifica is not only still there, she's also alone, and Dipper has his doubts as to how well she was listening when they were all discussing the plans for meeting up. Still, the meeting spot is his best chance to find her, or at least the best place to start.
Clothes still heavy with lake water, Dipper starts to run.
Mabel's day has already been pretty stressful and shocking, and that was before it started raining giant metal hawks.
She and Brendan are at the edge of town, about to start up Gopher Road, when an enormous boom rips through the air. Within the next minute, robot hawks are swooping through the festival and over the town, shooting through the air and diving to grab people. Mabel grabs Brendan's hand and pulls him into the limited cover of a nearby entryway, its flimsy cloth awning providing little protection should they be seen. Mabel tries the door, but it's locked.
"What are these?!" Brendan yelps as one snaps past their alcove, its wing coming almost close enough to touch.
Mabel had kind of been hoping he might know what's going on, but obviously not. That makes sense, though. These things look like robots, so if anyone knows what the deal is, it'll be Grunkle Ford (or maybe Old Man McGucket).
Mabel hazards a guess. "Another government thing?" She sticks her head out far enough to see some more of the hawks circling at a low altitude and revises her assumption. "Mmm, nah. If they were government robots, they'd be painted black."
Brendan is pale, but he's taking this sudden invasion surprisingly well. She must have prepared him with all her stories. "What do we do?"
Despite this bizarre turn of events, Mabel figures their goal remains unchanged. "Grunkle Ford will know what's going on," she says. "We can help him stop it!"
Brendan looks at her with fearful eyes. "Yeah, but… Dad will be alright in the cave, but Mom and Benji are at the festival."
Mabel isn't too worried about her friends and family; they're probably already together and fighting back. They'd be better off if they had her and Brendan, but they'll all be even better off if they can get Grunkle Ford and his equipment, much of which is, she assumes, perfect for robot fighting. She hadn't thought of Brendan's family at all, which she feels bad about. He's right: his family needs help.
"Do you know where they are?" she asks.
"Uh, I sort of know where they were," Brendan says, which is admittedly about the best anyone can do right now. "Look, I know your uncle is our best bet of stopping… whatever this is, but I need to find my family. Then we can find your uncle, I promise."
As much as she wants to talk to Grunkle Ford right now, he's safe down in the lab, and so is everyone else at the Shack if it's also under assault. If they hurry, maybe they can bring Brendan's family to safety down there too.
"We can run from shop to shop," Mabel says, leaning out from the awning again. The sky is momentarily clear of robots.
"What about when we get to the festival?"
"We'll figure it out," Mabel tells him, hoping she sounds confident. She backs up and firmly grabs his hand. "Follow me!"
They sprint from cover to cover, knocking open the doors to shops with bells jingling, trespassing through rear corridors and behind counters to find backdoors. Many of the stores are full of people hiding from the sky, cowering behind shelves and occasionally daring a peek outside. It's funny how easy it is to tell who's a tourist: they're the ones panicking, clutching non-functioning cellphones and talking loudly about how this can't be happening. In contrast, the natives of the valley are relatively calm and seem to view the robots as mainly an inconvenience. While dashing through the ice cream shop, Mabel even sees one of the bikers from Skull Fracture checking his watch like he's waiting for a bad bout of rain to blow over.
Weirdmageddon did a number on the town. (She can relate.)
The woods bordering the festival grounds provide adequate concealment, allowing them to reach an entrance. Security has long since abandoned it, as have any attendees lucky enough to be so close to a way out. Those not fortunate enough to find shelter in town are now hiding in tents, trailers, and if especially ill-fated, portable toilets. Mabel notes that the robo-hawks appear unwilling to directly attack any structures, even ones as flimsy as tents and t-shirt stands. They circle overhead, waiting patiently for targets to appear. She doesn't see anyone being carried, which makes her wonder what happened to those already captured.
Not far from the tree line, a big piece of cardboard is lying on the matted grass, dusty with footprints. It must have been torn free from something in the panicked rush. Mabel looks at it, and then looks again at the people cringing beneath nothing but a layer of tent canvas, somehow untouched by the hawks.
"I got an idea," she tells Brendan.
It's nervous work crossing all the open space of the festival with nothing between them and metal claws but a sheet of cardboard. They quickly discover there's an art to it; the hawks will take interest if they move too fast, beginning to swoop overhead to investigate. So, they stay low, stopping whenever they hear one overhead, occasionally hugging the wall of a tent or stand and propping the cardboard up like a lean-to, pushing it out slightly to create a small gap and look upwards.
They creep towards a burger truck, the last place Brendan saw his mother. Mabel presses against its side and shimmies upwards, bringing the cardboard with her as Brendan steadies the bottom. Through the counter she can see two women crouched in the back, away from the window.
"Hey!" Mabel says. The women both jump, startled. "Have you seen my friend's mom? Oh, um… I don't actually know what she looks like, but I bet she's really pretty. Oh, and Native American. That probably helps more, heh."
"Do you know what's going on?" one of the women asks.
"Yeah, these big metal hawks are kidnapping people," Mabel says. "It's pretty cray-cray, I must say-say."
The woman's fear becomes tinted by concern and maybe a little exasperation. "I think you should stay in here, sweetie."
"Nope, gotta go, bye! I might come back for a burger later!" Mabel ducks down beneath the cardboard and shakes her head at Brendan. "No dice."
"Maybe they tried to get to the cave," Brendan reasons.
"It's worth a shot!"
As they move, Brendan tries to ask a few more of the people they run into if they've seen his mom and brother, getting a lot of staring back in response. Most of the festival goers obviously think the two of them are insane, moving around like they are. Sometimes they try to get the kids to stay. Once, Mabel has to quickly back up when someone tries to grab her and force her into the sunglasses tent.
As much as she wants to help Brendan, her concentration is divided. What's happening with Grunkle Ford and the others? Has Dipper already returned to the Shack? Does Grunkle Ford have a plan? She's been half-expecting something to happen, like all the robots dropping dead from another EMP or maybe an epic battle between the hawks and a robo-dinosaur built by McGucket.
Brendan's sudden grip on her arm pulls her attention back to the task at hand.
"Look!" he says, pointing to a tent near the east exit. "I think that's Benji!"
Mabel can see a kid near the edge of the shadows cloaking the tent interior, right before someone yanks them back into the safety of the canvas shroud. Now that they have an actual destination, Mabel and Brendan speed up as much as they can, scuttling towards cover like a cardboard crab. They reach the tent and let the cardboard drop, standing up with relief.
Mabel knuckles her lower back. "So this is what Grunkle Stan is always griping about," she says.
"Mom!" Brendan says.
Brendan's mother is a woman of medium height who looks to be about the same age as Mabel's mom, maybe a little younger. Her long, glossy black mane makes it clear where Brendan gets his gorgeous hair from, and she has a kind face, though it's currently creased with worry and fear.
"Brendan!" She runs forward and captures him in a fierce hug. "Where have you been?! Your father is out looking for you!"
"I was in town, uh, just for a minute. Are you guys okay?" Brendan asks, reaching out to ruffle Benji's hair.
"I don't know what's happening. We're supposed to take shelter with the rest of the Conclave, but your father wanted us to try and make it together. Thank god you're safe," she says, hugging him again. "Did you see Dad anywhere? He can't have gone too far, I hope…"
Brendan looks like he's about to say something else when a familiar voice barks his name as if on cue. "Brendan!"
Brendan's dad comes sprinting into the tent, ducking in from where he's just run from another nearby stand. Mabel only saw him from the back before, but now she knows the resemblance to his son extends to more than just his hair. He has the same jawline, aquiline nose, and honey-brown eyes; but where Brendan's countenance is open, unguarded, a bit unsure and awkward, his father's face is commanding, ascetic, almost grim. Despite this, there is clear relief in his eyes as he approaches his son.
"I'm glad you're alright," he says, squeezing Brendan's shoulder. "Now come on, we'll be safe in the cavern."
"Yeah, you'll be safe there," Brendan agrees. "Me and Mabel need to find her uncle and help him stop the robots—"
"Wait, what? Slow down," his mother says.
Brendan points back the way he and Mabel came from. "Uh, the robots. Her great-uncle knows about stuff like this, I was going to—"
"Who is this?" she says, pointing at Mabel.
"My… friend, she's— look, you should go, you'll be fine if you hide under something and don't move too fast, that's what we—"
"Brendan." His dad's voice cuts through Brendan's babbling and silences him. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're coming with us to the cavern. We'll talk about the rest of this later."
"But…" Brendan looks helplessly at Mabel. "I promised I would—"
"Brendan." His father's voice cracks like a whip, and Brendan is instantly cowed. "Your friend can come with us. Come on."
"Yes, sir," Brendan mumbles, shoulders slumping.
Mabel backs away, towards the edge of the tent. "I can't," she says. "I need to help stop these robo-hawks."
"Stop them?" Brendan's mother says, looking at Mabel like she's insane. "No, you need to listen to the adults."
"You show her the way, Brendan," his dad orders. "Let's go."
Brendan reaches out and takes Mabel by the arm, but his grip is loose. His eyes are wide and conflicted.
"Come with me," Mabel whispers. "We can stop this!"
For a moment, she thinks he's going to do it—a hint of determination steals over his features. Then his father's voice barks again, telling him to follow, and his expression becomes resigned.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, his eyes filled with shame. His fingers close on her arm; but as he turns back towards his family, from the corner of his mouth he says, "Just run."
There's no time to say anything else. She wrenches her arm away and he lets go; she bolts for the light and scoops up the cardboard, taking shelter by the edge of a soda stand. Getting her bearings, she heads towards the meeting area and the west exit, hoping to encounter the others or at least make it back to the Shack alone if she has to.
Her heart pounds as she scurries beneath the ever-present threat of the hawks, now so much more ominous now that she's alone.
Pacifica is keenly regretting not paying much attention during the kids' meeting.
It's not accurate to say that she can't remember where she's supposed to meet up with the others because that would imply she ever knew in the first place. She planned to rely on Dipper's memory and hadn't taken into account the possibility that a stupid origami-hawk would swoop from the sky and kidnap him. She's had no luck discerning where the hawks might be taking people. Once someone gets scooped up and imprisoned inside a hawk, the machine returns to flying and it's too easy to lose track of which hawk is which. Sometimes the hawks will kidnap more than one person, though she's never seen one take more than two. Maybe they aren't taking the people anywhere; if so, then how does she get Dipper back down?
The answer lies, as it usually does, with Ford. Or at least it had better, because Pacifica has zero ideas for how to deal with this.
She made it to the questionable safety of the trees and is now trying to determine her next move. The best way to help Dipper is to find Ford, but Pacifica doesn't like her chances of getting to the Shack alone, even if she tries to stick to the woods. She also doesn't much care for the idea of hiding. Dipper needs her help.
Her train of thought is interrupted by the sound of yelling echoing over the nearby festival fence. She crawls out from under her protective hedge and follows the noise, trying to stay in shadow, always aware of the hawks circling overhead. Most of them seem to be over the town at the moment, but there's still more than a few above the festival.
Large holes have been knocked in the festival fence by fleeing patrons, trampling or even disassembling sections of it in their haste to escape. Something is happening near one of these gaps, shouting and banging noises. Looking upwards to make sure it's momentarily clear, Pacifica runs to the edge of the festival and peers around the collapsed fence section.
It's Wendy and her friends. They've gathered near the fence, right next to several large trailers that look like they probably belong to some of the music acts. Wendy, Nate, and Lee are jumping up and down, slamming metal poles against the side of an RV. What the heck are they up to?
The answer comes a moment later when the inevitable occurs. An origami-hawk, attracted by the commotion, plunges towards the three friends. As its claws open to grab one of them, they throw themselves to the side.
"NOW!" Wendy bellows as she dives to the grass.
Robbie, Tambry, and Thompson emerge from behind the festival fence. In their hands is a long section of the thick plastic netting used in some areas of the fencing. As the hawk awkwardly slows and begins to turn in the air to face Wendy again, it hovers only a few feet off the ground. The ambushers throw the netting over the hawk; the second it catches, Wendy and the two boys jump up off the ground and rush to help. The teens grab both ends of the makeshift snare and pull, tangling the hawk in the plastic as it stretches over its angles and knots in its joints.
The robot may be able to carry two people inside its shell, but six prove to be too much for its engines. It sinks to the ground and skids into the broken fence, knocking another section of it down and flipping the hawk over into the dirt. Several of the teens are pulled off their feet; Wendy goes down hard and comes back up spitting grass.
She's also spitting mad. With a war-scream of pure adrenaline, she leaps onto the downed hawk and begins slamming a hatchet into it. The hawk struggles in a mechanical way, moving its limbs up and down and only getting more tangled. The other teens pile onto it, beating at it with metal poles from the fence.
Suddenly, there's a loud pop. A shower of sparks emerges from the gash where Wendy is hacking the hawk's neck, and the machine freezes in mid-motion, going still.
Lee backs away, lowering his bent fence pole. "I don't know what you hit, but it must've been something important!"
"Yeah, eat it! Eat it, you… hawk!" Robbie yells at the unresponsive machine. He gives it a kick for good measure and immediately doubles over in pain.
"Robbie, take my picture with the dead robot," Tambry says.
"I told you they aren't made of steel. They have to be light," Wendy says in a pained voice, sliding off the hawk to sit on the ground. "Dude, I think I just got electrocuted."
"One down, uh… a lot to go," Nate says, giving Lee a tired slug on the shoulder.
Lee laughs breathlessly. "Yeah, at this rate we'll be done by Christmas."
"Right on, man."
"Hey, guys?" Thompson says. He leans over and presses his ear to the deactivated hawk. "I think someone's inside this one."
Wendy pushes herself to her feet and starts feeling around the robot's chest, looking for a way in. "Tambry, I need your tiny fingers."
As Pacifica approaches, she's disappointed when the hawk opens to reveal a woman she's never seen before. Wendy helps the woman out of the hawk and points her to the woods, noticing Pacifica a second later.
"Pacifica!" Wendy says, her face lighting up. "You made it!"
Pacifica has never been so glad to see the older girl before. Unfortunately, neither of the twins is at the meeting spot. "One of the robots took Dipper!" she tells Wendy.
Wendy's smile collapses. "Oh, crud. Is there any way you can tell which one?"
Pacifica shakes her head. "No. Have you seen Mabel?"
"We've been waiting for you, Candy and Grenda, and the twins," Wendy says, gesturing to the group. "Shoot, we need to talk. Come on, everyone get back in the RV before we get another hawk! Nate, Lee, watch the windows."
The vehicle is surprisingly luxurious; it must belong to one of the bigger bands. Wendy sits on a plush bench opposite of Pacifica, wincing and rubbing at her arm. "That hawk-bot shocked me good," she says. "Totally worth it, though."
"We need to find Ford. He can figure out how to get Dipper back," Pacifica says.
"You're right. This is some straight up science biz." Wendy frowns. "Dang it, I wish Mabel was already here. At least she's with Brendan. Candy and Grenda are probably sticking together; we saw them right before things got real, but I don't know where they ended up."
Pacifica knows they need to get to the Shack but leaving feels wrong. "I'm not leaving without Dipper."
Wendy nods in understanding. "Okay. We'll probably have to split up. Ford's got that busted leg, so he'll need help with whatever he's doing."
"We got company!" Nate yells from the driver's seat.
As if to emphasize this, the shadow of an origami-hawk flits over the RV windows. Wendy picks up her hatchet and bolts for the door, the RV filling with the sound of clanging as everyone grabs their weaponized fence poles. Pacifica is acutely aware that she's unarmed. She turns in her seat to look out the side windows.
One of the robots is circling overhead, its attention concentrated on someone who is on the other side of the fence, moving towards one of the gaps. They must be using it as cover, because the fence, broken in so many places, now has a distinct lean to it, enough that it can shield someone from the sky. The person pauses at the edge, then rounds the corner and sprints into the open.
It's Dipper! He runs as fast as he can towards the RV; the origami-hawk circles once more, then begins to close in on him.
"COVERING FIRE!" Wendy yells, bursting out of the RV with her friends at her back.
As the hawk gets close to the ground, a barrage of fence poles is launched in its path. A few of them make contact—they bounce off, doing only cosmetic damage, but this seems to be enough to dissuade the hawk, at least temporarily. It peels off and resumes circling overhead. Dipper runs up the RV steps, the group folding in behind him. Wendy is the last one in, closing the door with a bang.
As soon as he's safely onboard, Pacifica hugs him, sighing into his shoulder with relief. His clothes are wet, for some reason.
"You did remember where to meet up," Dipper says, holding her tightly. "I thought you weren't paying attention when we talked about it."
Pacifica sidesteps that topic. "How'd you escape?" she asks.
"It let me go," he says.
She leans back to look at him. "What?"
"Yeah, it dropped me into the lake. I didn't see anyone else there." Dipper shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe it malfunctioned?"
Wendy frowns. "No, dude, that happened to Tambry. Right?"
"One of them grabbed me, but it let me go after it took my picture," Tambry says.
"Took your picture? Like, with a green light?" Dipper asks.
"Yeah, and it had better not post it," Tambry says huffily.
"Huh." Dipper's brow is furrowed as his giant brain goes into overdrive. "Are they looking for someone specific?"
"We just helped some rando lady out of one, so I don't think so," Wendy says.
"But there must be a reason why they didn't want me or Tambry…"
Pacifica appreciates the mystery, but there's some more important stuff at hand. "Have you seen Mabel?" she asks Dipper.
"No. I was hoping she was here," Dipper replies.
"Well, we can't just sit on our butts and wait," Wendy says to him. "How about this: me, you, and Pacifica will head for the Shack and get in touch with Ford. Everybody else can stay here and watch for Mabel and Candy and Grenda."
Dipper reluctantly nods. "Yeah… Yeah, alright."
Wendy turns to Robbie. "Don't leave the bus unless you have to. If Mabel and the others show up, take everybody to the Shack if it's clear. Cool?"
"Cool," Robbie says. "Just watch yourself out there."
"Pffft, I got a hatchet. Those robots better watch out for me," Wendy says. "Okay, let's kick it."
The single hawk circling near the RV has since left to rejoin the majority of its fellows, winging off towards the town. Wendy pokes her head out of the door, then looks back at Dipper and Pacifica.
"Sprint for the trees, then we'll go from there," she says.
They follow her out into the bright light of the day, the ground thumping beneath their heels as they run.