The Pines' were only half-way through their breakfast when the call came, an unwelcome stab of sound piercing the calm of the diner Dipper, Mabel, and Stan found just a few miles up the road from the dumpy motel they left in the rearview. Drawing his phone from his pocket, Dipper answered quietly, anxiously, eagerly, and after a brief exchange of words, he clicked the "end" button and looked up at his family.
"She's awake."
As they drove into the hospital parking lot, mired in silence and exhaustion, Dipper bit his lip and tapped on the dashboard in anticipation. He didn't dare tell his sister or great uncle that the woman who called him related the fact that Pacifica's condition was unchanged. But maybe… maybe she just needed some familiarity.
The building loomed in front of them, faceless and tall, and dourly cast against the gray skies. As they got out of the car, one, two, three, Dipper couldn't help but look at the hospital and feel a chill run down his spine. He'd never liked hospitals, no, but he never disliked them either. This was a new feeling though, and it froze him to the asphalt while his sister and great uncle slowly plodded on through the puddle-filled parking lot. A chilling breeze pushed him into moving at last. But in his gut, he felt like something worse was in store.
The sliding glass door hissed as they approached, a burst of cold air issuing from the hospital's lobby that seemed entirely contrary to the needs of those within compared to the weather outside. It was almost cold outside, the storms having grown quite bitter overnight and wrapping the state of Oregon in an unseasonable coolness imported from parts most unknown. It did little to help Dipper's state of mind; the weather and building together made him feel worse.
"Can I help you?"
The attendant was bubbly, almost too much so. This was a hospital, not a candy store. But the brunette clerk did not seem to receive any such memo, and even the grim and tired demeanor of the company collected before her did little to derail her enthusiasm. It was a little grating, actually.
"Yeah, you can tell us what room we need to go to." Stan growled after glancing at the unresponsive boy. "Pacifica Northwest."
They were directed to the elevator, told to go to the fourth floor, and given a list of perplexing instructions on how to find the needle that was room 428 in the haystack of the hospital halls. The Pines' decided almost silently that they'd just figure it all out as they went. Once in the elevator, Stan crossed his arms and grumbled noticeably.
"What's up, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked cautiously.
"What's up with your brother? He's been a dead fish since breakfast." Stan said with a frown as he glanced at Dipper. "What's on your mind kid?"
Dipper only stared at the LED display as the elevator drew them up and up, a process that seemed painfully slow with Stan throwing him sideways looks while Mabel tilted forward to peer around her uncle's body.
"Dip?" Mabel asked quietly.
The doors opened following the ping of the lift as they arrived, and Dipper exited first, walking briskly and silently out into the hall. He stood still just outside the doors though, staring at the tiles and clutching his fists for a few seconds.
"It's nothing." He said at last. "I had a lot of nightmares. Nightmares that made me feel like there's nothing I can do. Because there's nothing I can do."
The elevator doors slid shut behind them as they stood together. Though his fists were unclenched, Dipper still stood defeated, smothered by his own worst fears. He blamed himself for his failures again, sighing before peeling off his hat and scratching his scalp.
"What a waste of time this all was… I'm sorry I dragged you two into—"
"Hey." Mabel interrupted him with a tight hug. "Shut up, Dipper. You didn't drag us into anything."
"Speak for yourself." Stan commented with a hidden smirk. "Whole thing makes me wish you twerps could drive yourselves."
"Ok. You didn't drag me into anything. Also, Grunkle Stan's here against his will, but that's still good, right?"
Dipper remained unconfident, but at least he lifted his head with a tired breath. Mabel's hug continued for several moments until he managed a small smile.
"Besides." Stan added. "Her stay here is on Preston's insurance. No skin off my nose. Come on, let's get on with it."
Stan started on his own, leaving the twins to their own devices for a moment. Though somewhat relieved, the boy couldn't shake the chill from his bones; it haunted him even now, the image of Pacifica slumping over in the rain, rendered helpless by a dirty trick taken way too far.
"So… what's really bothering you, Dipper?"
He looked into his sister's eyes now, the reassuring embrace now several moments over. Her concern shook him a little, if only because he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to serious Mabel. Or maybe it was the twin sense he refused to believe was real, and it was telling her that something was wrong, a thought which made him feel exposed.
"Mabel. I didn't want to say anything earlier. When I got the phone call… Pacifica's condition is unchanged." He shook his head and growled before continuing. "I mean, of course it hasn't, right? She's not in shock. She isn't hurt or sick or anything. It was dumb bringing her to a hospital… we should've just taken her back to Gravity Falls. Our best odds of fixing this sort of thing are in town."
"Yeah, well." Mabel replied while scratching her ear and glancing at Dipper's wounded face. "I think that would've been bad too. She was all crazy and stuff."
"I guess so." He ran a finger over the injuries on his cheek, still tender from when Pacifica haphazardly slashed his skin away. Weird that she did that… but the circumstances were to blame, he assured himself. Dipper turned and started walking side by side with his sister down the hall that Stan had ventured to just a minute before. "Besides… I guess that would've been kidnapping, my plan."
"Especially with her baby brains right now."
"Wha…? Baby brains?"
"You said she forgot everything." Mabel said through a sigh. "Kinda' like she's a baby now. Creep. Being in love with a baby."
Dipper only shook his head; though he smiled as though a chuckle wasn't too far behind, such an expression never got past his lips. Part of it was that the joke was somewhat in bad taste, and part of it was that as they approached the nursing station, they could see Grunkle Stan at work arguing with hospital staff. The conversation was more or less hushed, no angry outbursts, but based on gestures alone Stanford was far from unagitated.
"I don't like this…" Dipper said in hushed tones. "Come on."
They picked up their pace, reaching the desk in time to hear unsettling words: "Oh come on! You guys just called us a half-hour ago! What happened since then that we can't visit!?"
"What?" Dipper began. "Can't visit?"
"What's going on, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked.
"This chuckle-head says we're barred from visiting your girlfriend, kid." Stan grumbled with an accusatory tone and a gnarled, pointing finger. "But guess what? They won't say why. Or who did it."
"Sir." The nurse began, looking rather frazzled herself and not wanting to deal with a mad old man with too much time on his hands. "I'm not at liberty to tell you anything. The girl's family is here, and they're the ones who don't want you visiting."
"What!?" the twins bellowed in paired disbelief.
"I'm sorry." She continued, looking more frustrated than sympathetic. "But there's nothing more I can do. You'll have to take it up with them."
"Oh, we will." Dipper muttered with some venom.
"Will you now?"
That voice made him shudder where he stood, not from fear but bitter and unbending anger. His eyes were shut tight, vaults against the sight of the man and against the wellspring of blinding emotion that the sight would almost assuredly bring.
"By all means, Pines." Preston said with an icy chill. "'Take it up' with me. Appeal to my good will."
"What's the big idea, Northwest?" Stan spoke, hiding his own disdain much better than Dipper. "Shuttled off your kid, but now that there's a potential scandal you drop everything to be at her side?"
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, Mr. Pines." Preston answered huffily.
"Don't you?" Dipper spoke up at last.
The boy's eyes met his, and all they could see in each other was venom. The moment ground on and on with the deathly intent of an ancient glacier, poised and ready to grind to dust whatever lay in its path, neither Preston nor Dipper willing to step away from that doom. Until the silence was broken, and Preston Northwest smirked.
"Go on then, boy." He said with a chuckle. "Appeal to my humanity. Make me your brother."
"Why are you doing this?"
"She's my daughter." He closed in with a scowl, pointing a finger that shook with silent rage. "I told you to leave her alone. But here you are. Stalking her no matter where she goes. I have no choice but to let the law step in, since you won't behave rationally."
"You're calling me irrational? It's your fault she's here at all! Bill erased all her memories because of you!"
That shocked the previously confident man, who stood tall once more with a brief look of disbelief.
"I haven't a clue what you're talking about."
"Bill Cipher." Dipper continued through grinding teeth. "You sent that monster after me. Then he went after Pacifica! That's why she's in the hospital at all. You've visited her already, right!? Wonder why she's acting like a baby? He erased all her memories! All of them!"
Preston scanned the nursing station; a great many people were looking at them, and it seems as though security had been called, as two gruff, pudgy guards had made the scene and were being filled in by one nurse or another. Taking the moment to advance his agenda, Preston cleared his throat and raised a hand in expectation.
"Francis, the documents please. The Pines' are almost through here, I want to make sure they're informed before they're ejected."
"Of course, Preston." A well groomed, middle-aged man spoke up, emerging from what felt like pure shadow in a crisp, dark grey suit, perfectly pressed white shirt, and copper-red tie. With a swift, smooth flick of the wrist, the gentleman named Francis deposited a thin set of documents in Preston's hand before he looked at the motley crew assembled here. He paused when he saw the eldest Pines.
"My, my." Francis said as he grinned ear to ear, his slick-backed hair shifting slightly with the expression. "Hello again, Stanford. Staying out of trouble, I hope?"
"Wha…?" Dipper asked, somewhat bewildered. "You know each other, Grunkle Stan?"
"Yeah." Stan grumbled as he crossed his arms. "Preston's pet, Francis Mangels. Corporate tort lawyer, right?"
"That's right, Stanford, though I have been known to handle vandalism and slander suits." He continued, grinning all the while at Stan as he did. He paused to look at Dipper next, and his shark-like smile disappeared. "Though today, I'm helping my good friend deal with a stalker."
"These very, very legal documents, Dipper Pines," Preston said matter-of-factly, holding them point blank in front of the boy as he spoke loud for all to hear. "are a court order. You are not to be within a hundred yards of anyone in the Northwest family. Now, consider yourself informed."
"What!?" Dipper growled, lunging forward and grasping the paper aggressively.
"You can't do this!" Mabel interjected, much more emotionally.
"Dirty trick, Preston." Stan added, balling his fists. "And I know dirty tricks!"
"Yes, I'm sure you do. But that's all now, Pines. Security? Please escort these three out. They are presently violating a restraining order, but I'd rather not bother the police if we don't have to."
Nurses and patients passively watched as security slowly, deliberately, forced the unwanted Pines' from the hall, a sight as grossly enthralling as a traffic collision. Dipper and Stan voiced a lengthy din as they were escorted, making as memorable a scene as possible before they were driven into the elevator. Mabel silently followed, being pushed along briskly by a third guard while his burlier companions wrangled the noisome duo. Once their shouts were silenced, Preston huffed quietly to himself before turning around and walking back to his daughter's room, Francis Mangels in tow.
"That went pretty smoothly, I think." Francis said with a smirk, straightening his tie.
Preston didn't answer; his thoughts flashed back to his unscheduled meeting that morning, wherein Bill Cipher delivered news of his successful mission. Successful… right. That damned imp made a fool of him! Ignoring his best instincts, Preston chose to believe in Bill's recounting, believe that he wouldn't have pulled a fast one on him. And now he was down an heir in addition to his payment to that wretch Cipher. At the door, Preston growled and gripped the handle tight.
"Little bastard…! Damn him!" he whispered acidly.
"The boy, Preston?"
"No." He answered. "Not the boy."
"Do you mean what he was talking about? Bill something or other…? Preston, what was that about?"
Preston didn't answer at first, but did loosen his grip on the door handle.
"We can speak inside."
They slipped into the room quietly, having learned earlier that too much noise would end up upsetting Pacifica to the point of bawling and screaming. She lay in bed, hooked up to an array of electronic monitoring devices, her limbs bound to the bars by sturdy, cushioned straps. Her face was bruised and scratched, a result of her relentless thrashing. As Preston and Francis stood at Pacifica's bedside, the girl looked at them with curious, empty eyes, as though she had no clue what these two creatures were. As though she were an infant all over again. Preston cursed himself for so hastily destroying the memories…
"So." Francis asked casually. "What was the boy going on about?"
"Pacifica's condition is a result of some outside help I hired to stop the Pines boy from violating my daughter any further."
"You hired someone to do this? Preston…"
"This is far from what I asked of him." The shamed plutocrat said with a growl, turning sharply to look his lawyer in the eye. "I hired him to deal with Pines, not my daughter."
"Where on Earth did he find the time…?" Francis wondered aloud, looking at Pacifica's voided eyes and battered face.
"He always finds a way." Preston muttered. His eyes glanced past Francis a moment, seeing a mirror on the opposite wall. A faint glimmer had caught his attention, but all he saw was himself there, and Francis still looking at Pacifica.
"Well, no one will believe him." Francis calmly filled the silence, adjusting his tie. "Not once I'm done with the gag orders. But what about your daughter? Will she recover?"
"No."
"How do you know that?"
"I just do, Francis."
"Pity. That would work in your favor. Anyway, I'll give my partners a call and get the appointments with the judges in order—"
"Wait." Preston murmured as he grabbed Francis by the arm. "There's another matter. A tad more desperate…"
Preston whispered now, almost inaudibly for some reason, until such time that Francis took a step back in shock.
"Preston, that's…! Are you sure about this?"
"I am…"
Their conversation continued for several moments, occasional pauses breaking the hushed conspiracy as the men shook their heads and gestured hastily with their hands. Neither noticed the mirror as it did behave oddly for a mirror; neither man saw what seemed to be Preston's shadow as it stood back from its owner, a hand lifted to its chin without consent of the body casting the shade, pondering silently while Preston and Francis argued. Nor did they see it turn and walk away, fading into nothingness.
· · ·
· · ·
The drive home… that was probably the worst part of this whole ordeal, now. The apprehension from the night before? That was bad. The plunge into the abyss when Pacifica fried her own brain for who knows what reason? Much worse. Driving back to Gravity Falls with their tails between their legs, beaten by happenstance and devious legal torts, stripped of all hope of reversing the tide? Yeah. Yeah, that was the worst part.
Stan was belligerent as they pulled onto the freeway in Portland, nearly sideswiping a sedan as the Pines' vehicle veered into the lane out of nowhere. But an hour or so into the trip, Stanford Pines seemed to have beaten his swords to plowshares, his fury having been burnt away and only a silent, glaring old man being left in its place. The twins sat in back, Mabel to the left, Dipper to right, pushing himself as far away as he could from both his elder and his sister. He had spent a great deal of time tearing through the pages of the restraining order again and again, never once conceding that this was the end for the full length of time it took Grunkle Stan to cool his jets. But now he was silent too, seeming like a statue propped against the window as he stared out into the landscape.
Mabel watched him closely, wearing a frown very much as gloomy as her brother's, not sure what to say to him anymore. She'd tried being supportive. She'd tried being optimistic. But with hope so thoroughly dashed, what was there left to try? He looked defeated, because he was.
She opened her mouth to speak, but there were no words. No words that describe how much she hurt for Dipper, no words that could be used to console him. No words. She looked away from him, not wanting to see any more of those pain-marred eyes.
"What good am I then?" Mabel cursed herself inwardly. "I wish I could do something…"
There was a noise to her right, a recognizable, low thrum like water pouring down a drain. Mabel looked again to her brother, who in his torment, seemed eager to ignore his own borborygmi, let himself wither and perish.
"You're going to eat some lunch." She told the Dipper in her mind. "And you're going to think of something. You always do."
She leaned forward in her seat, coughing to clear her throat.
"Grunkle Stan, can we—"
"No."
His sharp response cut her to the quick. Seems he wasn't handling the stress any better than the twins.
"Grunkle Stan, we barely had breakfast. Can we just stop for a quick lunch?"
"No, Mabel."
"A gas station, then?" She started to whine a bit, desperate to do something besides let Dipper drown in sadness and hunger. "Dipper's stomach is louder and more obnoxious than me."
"Fine. Last stop before home, though."
Despite the concession, it was a full twenty minutes before there was even a store of any sort to disembark at. When Stan finally pulled off the freeway, it was to draw the car toward a rundown diner and gas station. Thunder loomed in the distance, warning the party of the closing of the storm's narrow window of safety. Stan busied himself with gassing up the car, tapping the glass of Mabel's window to bring her out. Since she requested this pit stop, the girl had spent almost all of the time between then and now staring at Dipper. He hadn't moved an inch of his own accord, and if anything, his posture had decayed with every little bump until he was barely even sitting up anymore. Even now, all he did was sigh and stare out the window, pathetic and grey as the sky he was cast against.
"Dipper?"
"Hey, come on, Mabel." Stan yelled as softly as he could, tapping on the glass again. "Run in and get a table. I'll bring him in when we're done gassing up."
She whimpered a bit and reached for the door handle, but before she went inside, Mabel slid close to her brother and wrapped an arm around him, cradling his chin and pressing her forehead to his hatted head.
"It'll be okay, somehow." She whispered before kissing the top of his head. And with that, she left him.
Dipper's thoughts were dark and deep and fleeting, each one giving rise to scores of ideas and plots that would endlessly murder themselves in his head, leaving behind only the single feeling, the one thing that for some reason just wouldn't, or couldn't, destroy itself: Dipper Pines, this is all your fault. He didn't notice when Stan finished pumping the gas, or when the car pulled closer the dingy diner. It was, at first, a dramatic act of human puppetry to stop Dipper's body from spilling to the ground when Stan opened the door, and equally so just to get the boy to properly stand on its own. He remembered looking Stan in the eyes while the grump spoke to him, but the words were lost in the ringing in his ears. Eventually, though, Dipper found himself inside, sitting at the booth, staring idly at a menu placed before him.
He couldn't, however, force himself to eat. The thought alone nauseated him, so much so that without a word, Dipper rose from his spot and lurched to the bathroom. It was a single stalled cube of a room, stank of stale water, and had the overall look and appeal of an abandoned outhouse. Turning on the faucets and splashing cold water on his face, Dipper spat out the acid that accumulated in the back of his throat and breathed as voraciously as if he had just swam up from the bottom of the sea. After a few moments, his hearing returned, as well as his overall sense of self. Of course, the ebb of the numbness brought on the flow of what his mind was trying to force out. Looking at his dampened face in the foggy mirror, Dipper noticed his eyes had grown red, and his vision was blurring up by the second.
"Don't." He whispered to his reflection. "Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't—"
He screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, refusing to look himself in the eye while squeezing the round, porcelain sink tight enough that his hands ached. Struggling to hold himself together, Dipper ran his hand up his face, pressing his fingers hard against his eyes, though that didn't help. He gripped his hat and threw it to the floor with a loud growl, but that didn't help either. At last, he stumbled back a bit, falling into sitting on the toilet and burying his face in his hands. With a deep, shuddering breath, Dipper exhaled out a series of sobs as his very last bit of mental fortitude caved, breaking down after hours of holding back into crying.
"It's all your fault. You know that, right? It's all your fault! You're the one who had to go back to Gravity Falls! You! Everyone would've been fine if it wasn't for you!"
"It is." He whimpered more than realistically stated. "It is my fault. Pacifica… I'm sorry. I don't know… I don't know what to do… "
Leaning into his hands, pressing hard against his eyes, Dipper wept out all his anguish, until at last all he felt was the empty cold at the end. He sniffled a great deal, blindly reaching for paper towels to clear up his agony. It was an annoying process of batting at the wall without looking up to aid in the search, until he heard one pulled from its resting place and felt it in his hand.
"Yeesh, kid. That was quite a girly little cry. Feel better now?"
"Bill?"
"Yep." the demon replied, seemingly with a great deal of joy in his wicked little heart. He waved the paper towel in Dipper's face. "Here, take it. You were way off, they're on the opposite wall."
"What are you doing here, you rotten little bastard…"
"Wow. Know what? Ow. That hurt. No, wait, no it didn't." He admitted with a chuckle. I can't lie to you, kid. Actually, I'm here to show you something. Look in the mirror."
"Fine." Dipper replied, gripping the paper towel viciously and wiping up his tears. "Already lost everything today. The fuck is another awful trick gonna' do?"
"Trust me, this is something you'll wanna see."
Dipper stood grumpily and crossed the two foot space between the toilet and sink, looking into its murky surface. With a snap of his little digits, Bill washed out the image of Dipper, replacing it with a view of Pacifica's hospital room, as though through a window. He watched as Preston and Francis Mangels entered the room and set to conversing, though he gasped when Northwest leaned over and looked at the mirror, dead into Dipper's eyes.
"Whoa! Can they…?"
"Nah, he saw me moving a little while I spied on them." Bill answered. "Oh! Pay attention here! This part is important!"
"Wait." Preston murmured as he grabbed Francis by the arm. "There's another matter. A tad more desperate…"
He leaned in closer to his confidant. "I need you to get to work on termination of parental rights. I'm officially removing this troublesome girl from my line."
"Preston, that's…! Are you sure about this?"
"I am…"
"Preston." Francis seemed to be bargaining with him. "You cannot disown your daughter. It'll destroy your reputation."
"I really doubt that." Preston replied casually. "Now, will you do this? Or do I have to find someone who will?"
The image faded away, leaving behind a view of Dipper tearing up with renewed vigor.
"He's… he's disowning her?"
"Yep." Bill answered coldly, filing his imaginary nails. "Seems he doesn't wanna' invest in building his kid again. I guess he'd rather start from scratch, or something. That's a bitch, isn't it?"
Dipper sat again, running his hands through his hair while staring at the worn out floor with a renewed feeling of complete loss.
"What's going to happen to her…?"
"Mmm, probably psych ward after psych ward. Of course, we both know they won't fix what happened to her… but, uh, maybe you can."
Dipper remained silent, but he was listening, at least part of him anyway. Drifting in close, Bill prodded Dipper's head and continued.
"If you traded something for it, I could probably restore Pacifica's memories. All I need is… hmm, how does your soul sound? Whaddya' say Pines? I can have her back to normal in no ti—"
"No."
"What?"
"I… I don't want that anymore. I can't do this." Dipper lifted his head, eyes filled with anguish, and something else, something bitter and smoky. Hatred. "I can't keep feeling this way with her. I don't want her memories back. I want to never have met her again. Can you do that?"
"Oooo, look at you." Bill mocked. "But no, I can't. In exchange for your soul? No, I can't do that. That'd screw up the timeline, make a paradox. Worse than that? I wouldn't get your soul."
"A paradox."
"Yeah, you know, an event where mutually exclusive events coexist."
"So what you're saying is I need a paradox-free wish." Dipper's eyes narrowed a bit, taking the demon by surprise.
"Yeah."
"I know where to get one of those." Dipper whispered as he rose to his feet, a devious look in his weary eyes. "I'll give you my soul, Bill Cipher. In exchange for a meeting with the Time Anomaly Removal Crew."
Dipper offered his hand to Bill, who glanced at it nervously. This was a golden opportunity, to be sure. The Pines family had long thwarted his plans and efforts, and Dipper was likely to be the next in a woefully long line of interlopers. Plucking this thread now could prove… wonderful. But if this worked, a Time Wish was what Dipper would get. Dangerous things, those wishes.
"What's wrong, Bill?" Dipper asked, casting an icy glare. "Isn't this what you wanted anyway?"
"Yes it is!" Bill hissed and took the boy's hand, which came alive with blue-green flames.
"Good." Dipper answered. "Now, take me to Blendin Blenjamin Blandin!"
The fire spread between the two of them, devouring the impish triangle and the boy alike and vanishing in a silent instant. All that remained was Dipper's hat, and a loud knocking at the door.
"Dipper." Mabel called to him. "Dipper, are you alright in there!? Someone get this door open please!"
· · ·
· · ·
They were gone. Miles gone. They reappeared together somewhere dry and sunny and brown, thousands of miles away from Oregon. Dropping through the blind infinities, Dipper screamed nearly constantly until landing face down on the dusty ground outside a large, square building made almost entirely of cinder blocks. He coughed a bit as he climbed slowly to his feet, the wind squarely knocked out of him.
"That was…" Dipper muttered between coughing. "That was awful…"
"Pfft, says you, Pine Tree."
"Alright. Where are we?"
"Tijuana, Mexico. Sorta'. Kinda'. Fifty miles south."
"Well." Dipper said with a scowl. "Where is he?"
"He'll be here, sport. Just be patient."
A dry breeze picked up, sending a lonely tumbleweed bounding past Dipper as he scanned the desert in disbelief. Why was there even a building out here? There was nothing else for miles. Certainly no time police.
"Bill, where is he!?"
"Three, two, one…"
A flash of bright light nearly blinded him, but Dipper managed to spy a hole opening up out of thin air, a swirling disc of green and white through which came a strangely dressed man, as time travelers go. He stood tall, over six feet, wearing a black suit and stove top hat that, as far as Dipper could tell, belonged to a man two-hundred years ago. When he saw the man's bearded face, his jaw dropped.
"What in the he—!?"
"Get him! He can't escape again!"
Four officers of a much more familiar sort marched through the portal before it closed, drawing their weapons and firing noisy bolts of deadly plasma at their quarry, who despite his size was nimble enough to roll aside in the dusty terrain and keep himself from being cooked alive. The anachronistic enemy of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squad merely mocked the efforts of his pursuers.
"Four fools! You'll need scores more practice if you hope to catch me!"
The hat-wearing stranger returned fire with his own weapon before turning and pointing a strange device at the wall of the abandoned building, issuing a bright flash much as before and leaving a new portal in time and space for him to leap through.
"After him!" An officer shouted before they filed into the hole. It closed noiselessly, leaving only confusion behind.
"What the hell was that!?" Dipper finally asked.
"Heh heh, neat right? That was Time Lincoln." Bill answered with a chuckle. "Kind of a living time anomaly. Keeps those chumps busy forever. The result of a Time Wish from a bored super villain in the distant future. Oh, oh, here we go."
Another flash of light filled the air, though this time there was no portal; only a chubby, bland little man with a very small, albeit not unattractive, patch of hair. Blendin Blandin, at long last. The portly temporal janitor hummed quietly to himself as he approached the spot where Time Lincoln had rolled through the dirt whilst avoiding arrest. He bent over and plucked up a cuff link from the dust, dropping the minute item into a plastic bag which tucked into his back pocket.
"Cataloguing anomalous item." Blendin's loud and obnoxious voice echoed out. "Time Lincoln's left cuff link. Closed. Returning to base."
"Blendin!"
"What? Who's there! You'd better identify yourself." Blandin shouted as he wheeled about. "Or-or-or-or-or I-I'll…! Wait… Dipper Pines?"
The male Pines stood stark against the desert behind him, tired and angry looking, and he approached the apprehensive agent of the future while wearing his saltiness on his sleeve. He stopped only a few steps away.
"Been a long time, Blendin." Dipper said at last.
"For you maybe." He replied. "It's only been a week since I last saw you. What are you even doing here? Thi-thi-this isn't supposed to happen!"
"I need a favor Blendin. I need you to take me to future. I—"
"No, no, that's not happening." Blendin half-shouted. "I just said you aren't supposed to be here! This is breach of the timeline!"
"He's trying to issue a challenge of Globnar."
Bill entered the scene with a bored expression, looking Blendin eye to eye as the time agent shook in disbelief.
"Oh no." Blendin's teeth chattered. "That's—! What have you done!?"
"I did what I had to do." Dipper said solemnly. "Now do what you have to do. I'm declaring Globnar."