"Make way, make way!" Stan called out. "Dangerous criminal coming through!"

Just as before, the temple plaza was packed with people. At the sight of Stan in his grey robes, the crowd parted, gasping and whispering among themselves. Ford mustered his best glare—which wasn't that hard considering how annoying it was, to have all those people staring and pointing at him like he was some curious specimen on display.

The kids—again wearing their ludicrous 'disguises'—had tied his hands with some cloth they'd ripped from a spare uniform. They followed closely after their uncles, faking a smug sense of satisfaction. Of course, the twins' chutzpah had nothing on Stan's, who was so giddy he was having trouble keeping character.

The crowd's scrutiny grew more intense—and more irritating—the closer they got to the temple. Up this close, its height was even more daunting. Something pressed down Ford's chest at the sight of the great pyramid—a real, almost tangible sense of dread.

One terrible possibility kept rearing its ugly head from some corner of Ford's mind. Gnashing his teeth, he shooed it away. No, it was better not to waste precious energy on pointless conjectures. Ford had already let too much of his life be dictated by fear.

Two sets of stairs separated them from the great arched entrance of the temple. By the time they had climbed them all, Stan was puffing and cursing the guy who had designed the place. The two grey-robed people standing guard glanced at him. Even with their faces hidden by masks, the depth of their contempt was plain to see.

Stan pushed his 'captive' forward. Again, Ford tried his best to play the part of the defiant and hardened criminal. The guards nearly dropped their spears from shock, one even letting out a gasp.

"I know, I know," Stan said, smug. "Y'all wonderin' who's the handsome devil who managed to snag the guy you're all looking for, huh? Well— "

Ford kicked at his brother, his annoyance only half feigned. "Unshackle me, foul fiend!" he exclaimed. "You won't get away with this!"

Stan stared at him dumbly, while Mabel hid her mouth, probably to stifle a chuckle.

The guard on the left quickly regained her composure, before pointing at the twins. "Wait, why have you brought these children as well?" she asked Stan.

"We're the ones who caught him, actually," Mabel said. "We found him in our backyard. He was rifling through the vegetables in our mom's garden pretty fast and—"

"Right," Stan interrupted her. "Uh, you gonna let us in or what? Got a prophesied hero who needs to save the world, y'know."

"O-Of course," the guard on the right said, motioning for them to enter.

"Thanks," Stan said, shoving Ford through the opening.

Dipper and Mabel went to follow, only to be stopped by the one on the left. "That's as far as you two can go," she said.

"Hey!" said Mabel. "We're the ones who found him, you know!"

"Yeah!" her brother added. "We're supposed to have a reward, right?"

The two guards exchanged a look. "Alright, alright," the one to the left said. "Get in before I change my mind."

"Thank you." Mabel offered her a little bow. When the woman's back was turned, however, she stuck out her tongue at her.

Inside, they found a large, circular hall, everything made of pale stone. Hanging on the walls were six banners of different colours, all depicting the circular symbol they'd seen before. A stairway twisted around a darker pillar in the middle; even if he'd craned his neck, Ford couldn't see the top of it. Several people in robes of different colours scuttled about, too caught up in their duties to pay them any mind. Ford pointedly noted that there weren't any worshipper or supplicant at any of the six altars placed under the banners.

Of course, none of these details caught Stan's eyes.

"Holy… holy shit…" he said. "Is that real gold?!"

On each altar there was a golden statue, again depicting a circle divided by a vertical line. The Eye of Dawn, most probably. A large bowl had been put in front of each statue. Priests and priestesses clad in a wide variety of colours filled those basins with objects made of gold—trinkets, ornaments, even what seemed to be a hairbrush.

Stan's excitement was almost palpable. "Heheh! How 'bout we try to bring one of those statues home… as a souvenir, I mean?"

"I thought my wanted poster was all the souvenir you needed?" Ford said dryly.

"Could be a late birthday present," Stan said. "From me to me an' all that. What's the use of wearing a stupidly poofy robe if I can't use it to hide stuff I steal?"

"Stanley, please."

"Awright, awright. So, uh, anything's pinged on your radar thingie?"

Ford inspected his watch while Stan and the children looked at him expectantly.

"It's as I feared," he said. "The signal's coming from above us."

"From the top of the tower?" said Dipper. "Bummer. Then again, I've been wondering… if the dimensional tear is up there, why did we show up outside of the city? I just don't get it."

"Neither do I," Ford replied.

"Time to find out the truth of the matter, huh?" said Stan. He gestured at a counter in front of them. A blue-skinned woman was sitting behind it, looking bored. "Lemme talk to the receptionist. She's a lady, and ladies love me, right?"

Ford's reply was simple and categorical, "No."

"Grunkle Stan, Susan at the diner isn't representative of all women," Dipper added.

"Why d'you break up with her, anyway?" asked Mabel. "We never got the full story—"

"Welp!" Stan said. "Let's go! Time's a wastin', people!"

He walked—no, strutted would have been a better word—toward the counter. The blue-robed lady had five eyes and a perfectly coiffed beehive hairdo. She pinched her mouth at the sight of Stan.

"Heeey," Stan said, and Ford could almost picture him wiggling his eyebrows. "Didja miss me? Admit it, you missed me."

Her five-eyed gaze was stony. "No. I don't know which of you idiots you even are."

Stan slapped Ford's back. "I'm the one idiot who actually managed what everyone couldn't do!" His voice was dry as sandpaper as he added, "Does that answer your question?"

By now, a small crowd was starting to form around them. Ford could hear them whispering.

All five of her eyes grew wide. "Is… is that…?"

"The hero promised by prophecy? The savior who will bring about dawn?" Stan gave a deliberate, dramatic pause before adding, "The man who will change the world?"

Ford felt a disquieting chill. Someone else has said those words about him once…

"Oh my!" she said. "Lord Tappaz will be so pleased!"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely. Lord Tappaz. Yep." Stan shuffled for a bit. "You know me, I live to make 'im happy."

"As do I!" Her sudden liveliness stood in dire contrast to her previous dour demeanour. "As do all of us!"

Ford startled, finally noticing just how many of these nutcases in robes were now surrounding them. Eager grins were plastered on their faces, their whispers growing into excited chatter. Stan edged closer to Dipper and Mabel, and the twins exchanged a worried glance.

The blue-robed woman held out a hand toward Ford. "Well, dear sir, let us escort you to Lord Tappaz. He is most eager to make your acquaintance!" She snapped her fingers, and two men in yellow approached, grabbing Ford by the arms.

"Wait a damn minute—" Stan said.

Her smile grew cooler when she looked at Stan. "Your job is done, soldier. Scoot along, now, scoot along!"

"Hey!" said Mabel. "Why can't we come with him? Um, I mean, we really want to meet this Tappaz guy too, you know!"

"Oh dearie me!" The woman actually laughed. "He's a busy man! You should be thankful that he already takes the time to talk to the uninitiated every week, you know!"

Lemon Guy, Ford thought, not even keeping the scowl from his face. It had to be him.

"C'mon!" Stan said. "You can't bring him there without me!"

"And why is that?" the woman said. "We'll handle it from there. Go do… well, whatever is it you lot do in your spare time."

Before Stan or the children could place another word, the yellow-robed men dragged Ford into the twisting stairwell. As he had expected, it led into the tower he'd seen from the outside. To his surprise, they did not climb to the top. Instead, the guards brought him to a small room—or an office, more precisely. Its tiny size was made worse by how cluttered it was. Gaudy statues and ornaments littered the place—hell, the walls were painted gold. Even Stan would have called it tacky.

Waiting for them inside was a man wearing yellow robes with stupidly pointy shoulder pads.

"My, could it be?" Lemon Guy stood up from his desk, gliding over to Ford. "The man of the hour, in the flesh! What a sight for sore eyes!" Glancing at the rags binding Ford's wrists, he added, "Goodness me, you've been treated like a prisoner, haven't you?"

"Isn't that what I am?" Ford said.

"Oh, no! You're our… esteemed guest." Lemon Guy took an affected pose as he added, "Please, call me Tappaz. I am the head priest of the Yellow Clergy." As Ford stared blankly, he added, "That's the upper echelon of the faith of the Eye of Dawn."

"So you're the leader of those lunatics?"

Tappaz's grin twitched a little. "Of course not. And I'm hurt that you think so little of us! You're among friends here." He motioned over to one of the yellow-robed guards. "Remove his restraints, please. And send for the tailor."

"The what?" Ford said, rubbing sore wrists. "What do you need a tailor for?"

"Oh, you. You're not going to bring about change upon the world wearing those… old things." Tappaz flicked a finger at Ford's collar, and the latter tensed, scowl deepening. "That dreadful sweater is much too bland for our purposes, for one."

"My twin bought it for me," Ford spat. "And don't touch me."

Tappaz frowned. "Twin? What's that?"

Ford remained silent. He was starting to regret leaving his weapons in the care of Stan and the children.

"Oh, well," Tappaz said, rolling all five of his eyes. "That's not important."

Soon, three scurrying figures in pale blue were brought into the room. Their heads were bent as they presented Ford with clothes and, to his horror and bafflement, what seemed to be a collar and a pair of bracers, all made of gold. The ensemble was completed by a hat that looked quite like a graduation cap, except the top portion was triangular instead of shaped like a square.

Ford just stared at the rainbow abomination in his hands. It was a multicoloured tunic, one that probably came at the knees at the bare most. "I'm not wearing that," he said.

That bastard Tappaz just kept grinning. "And why not? We tend to favour colourful fashion. It brings about more… joy into the world, don't you think?" With feigned sadness, he added, "And you wouldn't want to make poor Marines cry, would you?"

As on cue, the one who had given Ford the tunic sniffed, crocodile tears filling her blue eyes.

"We've planned your coming for so long!" Tappaz said. "She was looking forward to being the one to design the outfit of our prophesised savior, you know."

"Alright," Ford snapped. "I'll wear it. Just keep in mind that I'm putting my own clothes back on as soon as I'm finished with… whatever idiot thing you want me to do."

"Why, thank you for your cooperation."

For a moment, Tappaz simply stood and stared at Ford, stupid grin still plastered on his face. The guards and servants seemed similarly rooted to their spots.

Ford threw them a revolted look. "The least you owe me," he said through grit teeth, "is a bit of privacy, I think."

Tappaz gestured with his chin at the wooden screen behind his desk. "Please take the time you need," he said. "Afterward, I'll… introduce you to my superior."

Ford clenched his jaw tighter. Forcing him to put on those stupid clothes was certainly a good way to make sure he hadn't smuggled any weapon. "At least make your goons wait outside."

"Of course, of course." With a wave of the hand, Tappaz ordered the guards and servants to leave the room.

Ford slipped into the multicoloured atrocity behind the screen, inwardly cursing all the while. He pointedly chose to not put on the bracers and collar, and it took all of his willpower to keep himself from flinging them across the room.

With a sigh, he glanced at his watch. The signal had grown more intense, indicating that he was indeed growing closer to a dimensional anomaly. And yet he had no means of contacting Stan or the children. He had to find them, and fast.

Ford took one of the golden statues lying about the room, hiding it in his bundle of clothes. When he emerged from behind the screen, Tappaz eyed him critically.

"Well," he said. "I guess that'll do. Say, why aren't you wearing the hat?"

In response, Ford just took a swing at him with the statue.

The man went down like a stone, and Ford rushed forward, knocking another statue in the process. He managed to take by surprise one of the guardsmen at the door, kicking him in the torso. The other whirled toward him, readying his staff. Before the man could attack, however, a grey-robed figure rammed into him, screaming all the while.

"Great Uncle Ford!" a familiar voice shouted. "There you are!"

Two small figures were rushing toward up the stairs. "Kids!" Ford said. "How did you get past the guards?"

Mabel simply pointed next to him. Stan was grappling with the guard; with a roar, he grabbed the guy by the front of his robes, twisting on his feet and sending him flying. With a yelp, the guy tumbled down the stairs. His screams grew dimmer as he rolled out of their sight. Ford was briefly seized with the urge to go back into Tappaz's office and throw him down the stairs as well.

"He'll be fine," Mabel said, in a strangely forced tone. She glanced at the guy groaning at Ford's feet. "He's gonna be fine too."

"'Course they'll be fine, pumpkin," Stan said, panting. He removed his mask to breathe better. "Oh, I hate the guy who came up with the idea to put so many stairs…" After a slight pause, he added, squinting his eyes at Ford, "And how in the hell can you kick so high? We're the same age, dammit…"

"As the youth of today would say," Ford noted dryly, "I haven't skipped 'leg day'."

"Oh my gosh, Great Uncle Ford, what are you wearing?" Dipper said.

Everyone turned to face Ford, to his great horror. Stan in particular goggled at him. Ford didn't how it was possible for a sixty-year-old man to look so much like his sixteen-year-old self. It helped than Stan was grinning like a madman.

Ford glared at his brother. "Shut up."

Stan let out a bark of manic laughter. "But I didn't say anything!"

"Well, I think it suits him!" Mabel said brightly. "The colours are so pretty! But that skirt-and-boots combo is not a good look. They could have given you a nice pair of sandals, at least—"

"Mabel, please," Ford said.

"Aw, poor baby," she said. For a disturbing moment, she looked quite like a miniature version of her uncle Stan.

"Why did you take the time to put it on if you going to make a run for it?" Stan asked.

Ford blinked. "The possibility… just hasn't crossed my mind."

"Oh boy. You really are the dumbest genius I've met."

"Anyway," Ford said gruffly, putting back his sweater over the tunic, "how did you find me?"

"Dipper remembered that we could track you," said Stan. He patted the boy's head in an affectionate way. "Kid's hella smart, as always."

"Well, we can't always barge in without thinking ahead," Dipper muttered. "Sometimes it's good to plan for contingencies…"

"That's why we got you!" his sister said, poking him in the cheek.

Shouts began to erupt from downstairs. Ford exchanged a look with the others, and they all scrambled up the stairs.

"Oh, I'd almost forgotten!" Mabel said suddenly. She gave Ford his laser gun and glasses. "You can go pew-pew on the bad guys as much as you want now!"

"Thank you, my dear," said Ford. "To tell the truth, I'd rather not shoot anyone…"

"Good thing you've got me, huh?" Stan said. "Punching's not out of the question, yeah?"

Ford never had the time to answer him; the four of them had finally reached the last floor of the tower.

Only to come to a sudden stop.

The top floor had no walls, the arched ceiling being supported by tall columns. In the middle portion of the room, there was an elevated platform, accessible through a series of stairs. On the platform loomed a large metallic structure.

An inverted triangle with a hollowed centre, gleaming a sinister gold.

The entire world seemed to crawl to a stop as Ford stared at the portal. Stan and the children were shouting, but his mind was so numb that he barely registered what they were saying. Other sounds of a distant past—of another life—instead filled his ears.

You're Stanford Pines, the man who will change the world!

One brilliant mind every century—and you're the lucky guy!

See? I did say you'd join the likes of Tesla and Einstein!

…with just a little help from a friend.

WHY, YOU ONLY HAVE TO LET ME INTO YOUR HEAD, STANFORD.

"No," the word escaped Ford's mouth. He clamped his hands over his ears. "No, no, no…"

ENJOYING THE MYSTERY BRUISES, SIXER?

OH, YOU WANT TO STOP ME? IT'D BE FUN TO SEE YOU TRY, CUTE EVEN!

SAY, WHY IS THERE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS? WELL, I'M NOT TELLING!

YOU THINK YOU'RE SPECIAL? WHY, THAT'S THE FUNNIEST JOKE OF ALL!

I CHOSE YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE GULLIBLE!

Ford should have been able to tear his eyes away from that portal, should have been able to gather his wits and get his family to safety. He should have been able to drown the screams and the laughter blaring in his ears.

It was supposed to be over. He was supposed to be home, playing games with the kids, enjoying hikes in the woods, helping Fiddleford with his projects, going fishing with his brother. It was supposed to be over.

Ford was supposed to be free.

"…Stanford?" a voice seemed to come from far away. "Everything's fine, buddy, take a deep breath, it's alright…"

Someone was rubbing Ford's back. Another person was holding his hand. Ford tensed, instincts flaring up. Still, he forced himself to breath. Stanley's gaze was surprisingly soft, and full of understanding. Mabel just squeezed his hand tighter.

"I…" Ford croaked. He took another breath, before clearing his throat. "I'm sorry. We're strapped for time and yet…" He was still shaking, dammit.

"It's okay, Grunkle Ford," Mabel said. "We're here, we're all together, see?"

"It happens to me all the time," Dipper said, somewhat sheepishly. "Don't worry about it…"

"See? Everything's fine, we're all fine." Stan gave him another reassuring pat. After a while, he added, "You think you can focus enough to help us turn that thing on? So it can send us home?"

"I think I can," Ford said. "Thank… thank you, everyone…"

"Hey, no problem. Can't say seein' that thing makes me feel any better. Kinda makes me wanna puke, actually."

"Oh," was all Ford could say. If he'd been a better brother, he could have comforted Stan as well, but right now his brain felt as consistent as scrambled eggs.

"Alright. You and the kids work on that while I take care of—"

Before Stan could finish, several figures irrupted from downstairs. Tappaz was at the forefront, face drenched in sweat and blood. A couple of yellow and grey-robed guards hovered nearby, spears at the ready.

"You!" Tappaz screamed. "Do you have any idea what any of us would give to be in your position?! I kept telling the others that we had to bring you by force, but nooo! We had to earn your cooperation, had to treat you like a precious asset instead of the worthless trash you really are! Oh, I'll fix that mistake right now and claim what's rightfully—"

"Move," said a woman's voice, low and raspy with disuse.

A new figure pushed Tappaz aside. Even hunched over, the green-skinned woman was a great deal taller than him. A thick mane of white-green hair was draped over her shoulders and back. Her body was hidden under a cloak, while her face was covered by a mask, one that seemed to be fashioned out of white tree bark. There was a single triangular hole in the mask, showing the woman's right eye.

Ford met the newcomer's gaze, and his breath hitched in his throat. A single eye, framed by a triangle. It didn't mean anything, it couldn't. It was just Ford's paranoia acting up. And yet…

"Lady Malakh!" Tappaz exclaimed, his yellow skin growing a shade paler. "I didn't think you'd—"

She ignored him and lumbered toward Ford, her staff dragging on the ground.

"Not another step!" Ford shouted, gun raised. "I won't hesitate to—"

He never had time to finish; half a heartbeat later, and she was rushing forward with supernatural speed. He pulled the trigger, and a blue projectile burst from the barrel of his gun. There was an explosion of light, accompanying by a loud, crackling sound. In front of her, something shimmered, and the energy scattered in a web of blue lightning.

A forcefield? Ford thought with a jolt of panic. Dimly, he heard Dipper crying out in alarm. She was swinging her staff toward him, and it was coming fast.

The weapon caught him in the ribcage, and there was a sickening crunch as the air left Ford's lungs. The blow sent him flying, and he crashed against one column, only halfway aware of the way the children were screaming.

Ford stumbled forward, raising his arms in a half-hearted to defend himself. The green blur surged in front of him. Ford grit his teeth and stifled a scream of agony as the staff struck his forearm.

Something snapped, and Ford staggered on his feet, dizzy with the pain. The green figure towered above him, straightening her spine and finally showing the full extent of her height. She grabbed at his collar, easily lifting him with a skeletally-thin arm. Ford's feet dangled above the ground. Her single eye shone with an intensity he had rarely seen; the woman in front of him was not some self-serving lackey, but a believer.

"STANFORD!" someone shouted in the distance.

Stan's voice seemed to have come from halfway across the world. Ford mustered all of his strength to look at him; his brother's face was pale, stricken with horror.

Malakh tensed, whipping back her head to stare at Stan. It was hard to tell, but Ford was sure he'd seen her eye widening through the single hole on her mask. "Another… vessel?" she rasped.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ford saw Mabel throwing something their way.

"Smoke bombs!" she cried.

Her aim was true, and Ford closed his eyes as it hit Malakh's face. She screeched, dropping him to the ground.

That moment of hesitation was her undoing. "Get away from him, you creep!" Stan hollered, rushing toward her. With a very satisfying crunch, his fist collided with the wooden mask. Malakh stumbled back, staff falling from her hands as she reached for her face.

"I got you, Stanford," Stan said, hoisting his brother up and dragging him away from her. "I got you, everything's fine…"

Through eyes blurred by pain, Ford spied a small figure scooping Malakh's staff from where she had dropped it. A moment later, and Dipper was running toward them. "Great Uncle Ford! Are you—ah!"

He'd been stopped in his tracks by Tappaz, who had managed to grab the other end of the staff. Despite Dipper's effort, the yellow-robed priest managed to wrestle the weapon from the boy's hands. Dipper staggered toward his uncles and sister, while Tappaz held it above his head, shouting, "I've got it, Lady Malakh! I've got your staff!"

He pointed it toward Ford, a predatory grin breaking on his face. Energy gathered at the tip of the staff as he began to draw a glowing sigil in the air.

"Finally, I'll put you in your place, worm!" Tappaz exclaimed. "Why should an outsider be given an honour that should be ours? That should be mine? Our master will be so pleased that I've—wait, why is there two of you?!"

And then several things happened all at once.

As Tappaz spoke, Ford raised his gun, struggling to keep his aim true. In a sluggish motion, he pulled the trigger, and a flare burst out of the barrel. With a startled yep, Tappaz brought down the staff, releasing a wave of energy so potent the air began to crackle and pop.

There was a blinding explosion, and Ford was swept off his feet. Through eyes blurry with pain, he spied a purple, starry sky above him. He managed to summon enough awareness to understand that the blast had been strong enough to send him out the window. It took him a bit more effort to realize he wasn't the only one who had been projected outside. The shock of this revelation was strong enough to dispel the fog from his mind.

Stanford Pines was plummeting to his death, and his family was falling alongside him.

Ford struggled to reach them, his fingers barely touching the fabric of Stan's sleeve. Mabel and Dipper were trying—and failing—to grab each other as well, their faces struck in the same expression of panic. The base of the pyramid was approaching fast. A final scream was wrenched out of Ford's throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to see the violent end of those he loved most in the world.

His body came to a lurching stop.

Slowly, an inexplicable force set him on the ground. Two young faces peered at him; a boy and a teenage girl, their skin a matching shade of blue. More figures stood behind them, their features a blur to Ford's dimming eyesight. Before he could utter a word, everything gave way to oblivion.