WEEWAWEEWAWEEWAWEEWAW-

"Get outta the goddamned way, you frickin' joker!" Stan yelled, shaking a fist out of the window as he caused an ancient Buick to veer off of the road and into the Gossiper's headquarters. "Sunday drivers, jeez!"

"Okay, left on this road."

"Left?"

"No, no, wait - right."

Stan growled and did a u-turn, ripping out another mailbox. "How the hell did you navigate the multiverse when ya can't even read a map?!"

"I am trying, Stanley!"

"You're trying my frickin' patience!"

"Just keep going down here and you'll hit the sewer grate. Soos said they'd cut it in advance."

"Let's hope he got the measurements right." Dipper winced.

"Wait, what did you- HOLY PALOOZA!"

WEEWAWEEWAWEEWAW-CRUNCH-WEEWAaaaaawweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

The jagged metal bars of the sewer grate dug deep into the firetruck's roof and ripped it off, missing the Pines by mere centimetres and ripping every fitting from its rear. The siren continued lamely as the vehicle veered into the concrete tunnels, its sides grinding against the shaft's curved walls.

The steep slope caused them to only accelerate faster as they descended down towards the Crawlspace on the crippled - and now roofless - truck.

Waddles covered his eyes with his little trotters and squealed. Pacifica gripped Dipper and screamed as they flew towards the end of the tunnel, where the tunnel split. There was no opportunity to stop, no escaping the collision and no way of knowing what would happen.

"Please say that's a fake wall! Please, please, please say that's a fake wall!" Mabel squealed. "I don't wanna be a Mabel pancake!"

"This is why we needed seatbelts!" Dipper added at the top of his lungs.

"What if Soos got it wrong?!" Pacifica yelped.

"I'd trust him with my life, blondie!" Stan replied. "Brace yourselves!"

Stanley put his trust into his handyman without hesitation, jammed his fine brogue shoe against the accelerator and raced against the wall with everything the battered old jalopy had. With the distinct smell of burning rubber and the roar of the old truck's motor, the entire family yelled in horror as the vehicle careened towards what appeared to be a concrete barrier.

It was just as well that while the town's cryptids were very paranoid about being discovered, they were equally lazy and inept. The concrete barrier, it turned out, was simply obscuring the outflow into The Crawlspace.

Indeed, were it not for the dim light of the sewer's bowels, they'd have noticed what appeared to be the grit and dimpling of the concrete was actually the grain of balsa wood.

Really, really cheap balsa wood.

The battered truck piled through it like a bolt through - well, balsa wood, but it was enough to fatally knock it out of balance. The truck began skidding wildly left and right, throwing the kids against eachother as they screeched almost as loud as its tires.

It roared through the sewer outflow, hit the smooth gold surface and rapidly went into an uncontrolled spin. The screaming of the tires, roaring of the motor and yelling of the family created a bizarre cacophony that filled the Crawlspace like a horrific choir. Inside the tenement, it quickly ripped the townsfolk from the well-meaning decorating session.

The freedom fighter group ran to the entrance of the tenement and watched in awe as the spectacular scene unfolded.

Aboard the screaming vehicle, things weren't going particularly well.

Ford gripped the dashboard and yelled at the top of his voice. "Handbrake, Stanley! Handbrake!"

"It has a handbrake ?! Man, what kinda new-fangled fancy motor is this?!"

Ford barked at his brother fiercely. "Just do it! "

"Aight, aight!" Stan yelled back, ramming the handbrake down. It bit hard into the wheels and tightened the spin, but it did little to stop it from sliding on the giant metal ice rink. It was only due to the sheer confidence and strength of Manly Dan Corduroy that disaster was averted.

The lumbering man of timber ran towards the vehicle and grabbed its rear bumper with a roar of either anger, exertion - or both. With the added bulk and friction of his size eighteen forest boots, the vehicle began screeching to a halt, dragging him behind it like a trailer.

Leaving trails of black rubber behind them, the vehicle and lumberjack finally began losing inertia. In what felt like hours - but in reality, was little more than a few seconds - the hulking cavalcade came to a grinding halt, giant clouds of steam erupting from the radiator. It felt eerily similar to their experiences aboard the locomotive a few days ago.

The firetruck groaned on its bent, battered chassis. The rumbling, the rattling, even the screaming - all finally died out, leaving a sweaty lumberjack, a very dazed family and a very sick-looking pig.

Waddles fell out of the vehicle and stumbled away to lie down with a dizzied grunt.

"Thanks, Dan. We owe ya." Stan said, peeling his sweaty hands from the steering wheel.

"We owe all of you." Ford agreed, climbing out of the passenger seat. "Grief, I thought I wouldn't get into worse than the crash into dimension Flegglequax, but…"

"Not my best bit of getaway drivin', but hey, we survived, huh?"

"Next time, seatbelts."

"Yeah, yeah."

In the back seat, the town's prime (and now on the lam) power couple were still fixed in place, both gritting their teeth and looking distinctly frazzled.

"I think I'm gonna throw up." Pacifica groaned.

Dipper gurgled, held in his girlfriend's panicked vice grip. "Pacifica, you're c-crushing me."

"You want me to let go?"

"N-no, just- loosen up huh?"

"G-gimme a sec-"

The group that had sprung them flocked around the vehicle and helped the battered, bruised, and still partially burnt Pines from the hissing truck.

"Man…" Mabel groaned, resting her head against Kevin. "This is way too much for me…"

Kevin smiled as he carried her towards the tenement. "Don't worry hon, we have it all set up."

The usually chipper Pines twin was drunk on adrenaline and dizzy as hell. She slurred her words as she spoke to the boy with the pompadour and looked through half-closed eyes. "Whaaat, my coffinnn…?"

"Well, maybe if the cops are desperate enough- no, of course not!"

"I thought you were an aaaaangel…" She gurgled, holding his cheek.

"You're crazy."

"Crazy like a fox-" Mabel said until she promptly threw up on the floor. Not quite the romantic reunion she had been hoping for, admittedly, but she was still super smooth. Unlike the contents of her stomach.

The Pines trickled into the crumbling brick tenement, confronted by empty wooden floors, makeshift beds and barred windows. Soft furnishings and a BBQ grill were scattered around with care, even a family portrait hanging from the wall.

It was barely an improvement, in practical terms, upon the jail cell.

In emotional terms though? It made all the difference. Pacifica and Dipper sat down on one of the cushions and smiled. Even the slightest home comforts - real home comforts - made all of the difference.

"Is it uh - is it alright, dawgs? Susan brought some cheesecake and Bud brought some of his coffee and-"

"Soos, it's perfect, kid. You did me proud." Stan beamed, patting his back.

If Soos could give any wider a bucktoothed grin, it'd come right off of his face. The portly young man, without the slightest hesitation, took his surrogate father into a tight hug.

"We appreciate it. From all of you." Ford said, hands on his hips. "It's nice to know the town hasn't completely shunned us."

"Of cooouuurse!" Susan smiled. "We know you're innocent!"

The Pines went quiet and exchanged an awkward glance.

"...Yes, well." Ford said, clearing his throat. "I suppose it's time we explained a few things…"