A little part of Dipper had worried that Farmer Sprott might remember him and the rest of his family being responsible for stealing Octavia the multiple-limbed cow from the petting zoo, and have some kind of posters up advertising a lifetime ban or something.

It wasn't that he had a problem with breaking in, per se, but it would make things a little more difficult, and they didn't have any time to waste if they wanted to get this Zodiac thing done before Bill could notice and retaliate.

But to his surprise, there was no sign of any posters, and one of the farmhands let him through the gate without so much as looking at him funny.

Maybe Farm Sprott had erased his memories of the incident before the Society of the Blind Eye was, ahem, permanently disbanded.

Dipper stood just inside the entrance, waiting on pins and needles, until he saw the familiar dark green form of Soos come driving up in the golf cart.

"Good news, dawg!" he announced cheerfully as he hopped out, "I saw Mabel and Robbie walking back to the Shack as I was on my way here!"

"Robbie. Great." Even if he wasn't dating Wendy anymore, Dipper doubted he would ever be on his list of favorite people.

"Yeah, I know, dude." Soos patted his shoulder. "But we just gotta tolerate his presence until we have this over and done with."

"Thanks, Soos." Dipper smiled.

They headed for the corral, and began searching for any signs of llamas.

Sure enough, after a moment or two Dipper spotted a large brown one, kneeling haughtily at the far end of the paddock and leisurely chewing a carrot.

…What he wasn't expecting was the small blonde figure standing in front of it, feeding it the carrot while gently running a brush through its coat.

"…Pacifica?"

The girl froze like a sparkling purple glacier, before she whirled around in a tornado of blonde hair. Her eyes widened in horror when she saw him and Soos.

"Uh-this isn't what it looks like! I'm just doing this as part of a service project that'll look good for the newspaper!"

The llama grunted indignantly, and she turned and fed it the rest of the carrot. "Sorry, sorry!"

Dipper glanced at the Volunteer Llama Handler badge pinned to her jacket, and smirked.

"…Right."

Pacifica turned a shade of pink he hadn't thought she was capable of, and tried to cover the badge with her lapel. "What do you want?" she demanded.

"…Remember how I helped you put an end to a hundred-year-old curse by encouraging you not to follow in your family's footsteps?" Dipper held up a paper with a picture of the zodiac on it. "We need you to return the favor."

"...So basically, you want me to come back with you to your tourist-trap house, and hold hands with a bunch of people in a circle as part of a weird ritual thing?" Pacifica asked a few minutes later, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, because if you don't, the world will probably end up getting destroyed." Dipper gave her an earnest look. "Think about it, Pacifica. No more mall. No more credit cards, or fancy mansion, or peacocks, or crazy little town for you and your parents to look down on every day. Cuz it'll all be taken over by this megalomaniac-" he pointed to Bill- "and his buddies, and torn to pieces. Forever."

To his surprise, he thought he saw her actually give a little shiver, before she glared at him. "...As horrifying as all of that sounds, you could have just stopped at 'the world will probably end up getting destroyed.' I got the message." She tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear and pulled out her phone, tapping at it with her thumbs. "Hold on, I need to cancel my chauffeur."

Oooof course. But since she was genuinely agreeing to help, Dipper smiled at her. "Thanks, Pacifica."

For some reason, her cheeks immediately turned an even darker shade of pink than when they'd caught her with the llama. "I'm only doing this because I don't want the world to be destroyed, okay? This is not because I like hanging out with you!"

"...Uh, nobody said it was."

She went even pinker, before making an aggravated sound and marching toward the golf cart.

Dipper shot Soos a confused look. "...What did I say?"

The look Soos gave him in return was even weirder-like he had just missed something obvious.

"Oh, dude." And he actually reached over and patted Dipper's head, before following Pacifica's lead. Without the irritated stomping, obviously.

(Just as they reached the porch of the Mystery Shack, Mabel abruptly slapped her forehead.

Robbie gave her a confused look. "Did you get a mosquito?"

"I-I don't know. I just…have the horrible feeling that a perfect matchmaking opportunity was just lost.")

Gideon lay stretched out on his bunk, chubby arms folded behind his head, one stubby foot resting on his opposite knee, glaring balefully at the ceiling.

Usually he would be in crafts class right now, working on his beautiful wedding dress for Mabel when she finally stopped playing hard to get, but the warden had gotten a little bent outta shape after the last riot, and all extracurriculars had been canceled for the day.

Eh, no matter. As much as he enjoyed the small artistic challenges of crafting, he loved even more the opportunities to contemplate in private the revenge he would wreak on his enemies as soon as he got outta here. Specifically, those he would wreak on a certain obnoxious old man with the manners of a Chester White hog, and a nasty, sweaty, noodle-armed boy who kept meddling in his courtship with the love of his life.

For them, it would definitely be something long, and lingering.

But first, of course, Gideon needed to figure out how he was going to get outta here.

It was possible that a window of opportunity would open soon; Daddy had told him during his last visit that Mayor Beffufflefumpter wasn't looking so hot lately. And while he'd always wanted to become mayor hisself, he'd happily settle for being the power behind a puppet mayor-

What was that?

The boy sat up with a little frown, and tilted his head.

Mebbe he was just hearing things, but for a moment he thought he'd heard the sound of a footstep in the corridor.

Normally this wouldn't be quite so strange, except that it wasn't time for the guard to make his inspection of this cell block…and whoever it was had sounded like they were trying to move as quietly as possible.

Around here, that normally meant some kinda jailbreak was in progress, but no one had mentioned anything to Gideon about one, and he thought he'd made it abundantly clear that all plans for escape ought to be run by him first, because his fellow inmates, bless their little black hearts, didn't always think these things through-

Oh great gosh almighty, there was someone standing right in front o' his cell!

A tall figure-not tall enough to be Ghost Eyes or Killbone, but still mighty tall-looming in the shadows like some kinda specter, just standin' there and starin' at him through the bars; and if Gideon squinted, he thought he could make out a strange, pale blue light glowing from its chest.

Maybe those tall tales about spirits o' previous convicts haunting the prison weren't as tall as all that.

A chill ran down Gideon's little ol' spine, and for a long, horrible moment he wished he had his amulet back so he could defend himself against whatever this apparition might try.

But young though he might be, prison had toughened him during his time served, so after a moment he squared his round little shoulders and got to his feet, clenching his fists and jutting his pudgy jaw as much as it would jut.

"Who're you?!" he demanded. "Speak, apparition!"

Or at least, he started to demand that.

He only had time to get the first couple o' syllables out, before FZZZT-ZZZZAPPPP!

…Calm down, everyone, it's not what it sounds like.

It wasn't a perfect hologram-the little beast had spoiled it by getting up like that-but Ford thought it should pass muster if anyone came to check on Gideon before he could put him back.

It was only a matter of seconds for him to pick the lock on the cell door and slip inside, assemble the hologram against the wall next to the door so that it projected the image of Gideon stretched out on the bunk, then pick up the stunned boy and, after placing a neuroparalyzer on the back of his neck just in case, sling him over his shoulder, staggering a little under the unexpected weight (were all nine-year-olds this heavy?) before he managed to adjust accordingly.

He slipped out again as quietly as he'd come, and headed for the Mys-for home.

Who me, having hostile feelings towards Gideon?

Whatever gives you that idea?