The Journey of Many Paths, or abbreviated 'the Paths', is a school that preaches the ability for anyone of any walk to be able to use their skills to defend themselves. The Paths, compared to many modern martial arts, has been linked more to a philosophy than a system of combat- but none the less useful. With the powers linked two four schools, anyone seemingly could find their niche and become a student of the Paths.
For those who sought the means to cleverly disable and weaken a foe, the Path of water was the clearest choice. It enabled those who walked it to become fluid and adapt to the situation, learning as they fought. To these students, the battle is something that is less about defeating a foe with fists than it is answering their strengths by exploiting their weaknesses.
Those who would endlessly evade and doge their opponents, outlasting them on every turn, the style of Air was their choice. Swift and effortless allowed for speed and mobility. Those who followed the wispy trails of air would let themselves know that their strength was in the fastest of evasion. To these students, a battle was never inevitable. They can flee, or find a better instance to find the struggle: on their terms.
Of the students of Earth, the battle was never something to win, but to outlast. The enemy was a brief blip in the turmoil that is life, and to win was never tied to the battle at hand- but the war in the long run. To those who perform the feats of Earth, he or she who withstood their trials could withstand the greatest foe.
To the rare person or woman who studied fire, the dangerous, unpredictable, and hungriest for glory of the four, the battle was a dance. Competition, friendly or otherwise, is encouraged and appreciated. Fire burned bright and faded fast, engaging in a true test of heat; to see who would singe and become ash first. The Fire, the heat of the moment was test of character, and the greatest outcome was to defeat the enemy directly.
Yet to the common eye, these people who practiced the dangerous art of the Journey of the Many Paths appeared as perfectly normal. They did not wear silly clothes, or monk garb, or speak in hidden codes or riddles. Only their grand-master, a mysterious figure that the oldest and most trained of the students called 'the Teacher' or 'the Master', was such a sight. To anyone passing by one, they may not have known that they were next to such a figure. Someone who could warp fire around their hands, or lift stone with a stomp against the earth, or jump unnaturally high, or even weave and twist with the grace of a river.
In the late evening in the western side of Jacksonville, a cluster of these people had come together atop a rooftop. This roof, sitting on a small hotel building, was dwarfed by the nearby larger establishment hotel. There were six hidden there. One wore a large cloak and hood, black as the night around them. They stared at the building. Some were more at east than others. All the same, the party present was one of quiet.
Of the five not-cloaked people, there was a man with a bald head. Wearing a brown leather vest and jeans, he stepped away from the ledge. "They've been sleeping for at least an hour," the man confirmed to the others around. Giving the one in the black cloak a shake of his head, he announced gravely, "If something is going to happen, it'll be soon."
A teen, lying by an air-condition vent, plucking strings on a guitar, asked, "And we're certain it will?"
"It will," a woman nearby said, adjusting her short red hair. She was coming carefully, using a small hand-mirror to check her appearance. "Oh yeah, they'll remember that," she told herself quietly, smiling at her handiwork.
The young boy sighed, and lifted his guitar over his shoulder, holding it over himself as an oversized weapon. Drew Alto, the youngest of the crew present, stepped closer to the edge. Looking down, he stared at the tan-lights below that hummed in the late evening air. After a sigh, he adjusted his head. He stood next to another man who stood, sentinel like, staring down at the street with his arms crossed.
"I'm still uncertain how we found out what the Warlock is up to," he said, looking to the cloaked figure, standing on the edge of the rooftop.
The crossed-arm man, who also happened to be Drew's personal teacher and master, cleared his throat. "It's not our job to ask how right now," Nadan calmly told him.
"Why not?" the younger asked, sliding down his guitar as he shook his head. "We're not doing anything now, are we?"
The bald man, Darren snorted. "You're not doing it right if you think we're doing nothing," he said with a amused tone.
"What?" the younger grunted.
The man next to drew faced him. "Drew, focus," he told him.
The guitar-wielding kid grumbled. "I've been focused on that window," he turned and pointed to a window seven stories from the ground, with it's lights dimmed, "For the past hour. Why can't I ask how we know to be here now, and not some other time?"
The corners of Nadan's lips twitched. The impertinence of his student was clearly something he was not enjoying. With a tad more force behind his words, he started saying, "Because-"
From behind both of them there was a loud rustling of cloth. The cloaked figure had held up a hand. The voices of the rooftop went silent. The teenager, only noted as 'Drew' realized he was now the closest one to the mysterious person, and gulped.
Mask across his face of near-featureless silver, the Master of the Paths stared at him. The voice, a cold, monotoned thing, said, "In the north, I know a woman who has seen things. A woman who saw the events of this summer nearly a year ago."
Sitting very still, the tallest of the group, the woman known as Rin, quietly stated, "The Seer."
"Really?" Drew gasped, looking from Rin to the Guardsman. "And why don't we meet her?"
"She doesn't know who we are," the voice of the Guardsman stated. "For her security, I have kept her at a distance. But," the man turned to the others, "It was because of her information we gained the knowledge that Omir Steindorf would begin his plans for magical experimentation again, and that his doing, intentionally or otherwise, would bring about the return of the Dream Demon."
"Which is great," Rushtar shook his head.
"Is it really that bad?" Drew asked. The voice behind the mask chuckled, and turned back to the building. "Really?" he asked those behind him, his eyes meeting with a few of the other, more quiet members. "But he's just a triangle!"
"From another dimension," the woman with short red hair named Maureen stated, "Or something worse. He's creepy. Also not fond of our master, and by proxy, us."
"Why?" Drew asked.
The mask glanced to Drew, and the teen stepped down from the ledge. The dark slots for eyes in the mast seemed icier than all of the lands of Antarctica. Yet he spoke quietly. "He is not fond of humans, and even less of humans who can defend themselves."
"And this has to do with him?" Drew asked.
The being behind the mask gave the smallest of nods, and said, "So, my source says."
Drew pointed below, "And these kids-"
Darren 'Rushtar' snorted. "Drew," he chuckled, "they're as old as you, or older."
"Fine, fine," Drew nodded, "The people we're watching – they can help us defeat Bill Cipher? Stop him from destroying the world?"
The Guardsman nodded.
Nadan frowned. "I still don't understand how that could even happen," he said quietly, working his way into conjecture, "That demon can't control anything more than someone's dreams."
The mask turned to Nadan. "Dreams are important," the voice behind the mask proclaimed, "Without dreams," he paused, staring at all those around him with a long pause, "Men and women lose themselves to despair, or even madness."
"Doomed with a dream demon, doomed without dreams," Rushtar noted, shaking his head.
"But the end of the world?" Drew asked, "Could he really do it?" The man in the mask said nothing, and instead tilted his head to the side. Drew, his instincts sharp, turned his gaze downward. "That's a lot of vans," he muttered, and focused on the five white-paneled vans that had shown up at the front of the hotel across the street.
"What?"
The host on the rooftop joined the two on the edge. Unflinching to the coming traffic, the Master of the Paths nodded down, and the eyes of five others looked down. They all saw them: men and women in all black. Black sleeveless vests, black short-sleeved button ups, and dress pants. Each of them, however, had a small bulge along the side of their hips where the vests covered. Those were certainly concealed weapons.
Maureen, her eyes focusing, declared, "They have some sort of badge on them."
The master of the paths let out a low, drawn-out sigh. "As she predicted," his raised voice startling those around him, "They would come with the mark of the Warlock."
"What?" Drew asked, "Kinley's cult made it here already?"
"Looks like it," Rushtar sniffed and shook his head. "Six going inside, packing heat. Maybe two dozen outside? Thirty total."
"That is many to harm or capture four unarmed people," Rin said, a tall, lithe woman with jet-black hair and a men's-style suit.
"The Warlock doesn't see this war as one with casualties of war yet," the Master of the Paths noted. "These people are those he's brainwashed. They will try to kill us, and the four. And their pig," the man added.
Maureen the Menace groaned. "I hate breaking the faces of brainwashed people. Apologizing to them when they wake up is always so awkward."
"We don't have that luxury to say sorry," the Master said. "We're needed."
Nadan looked to the Guardsman. "Then just say the word. We're ready."
As they all looked to them, a terribly bright light was flooded over them. All but the master flinched and spun about. Hovering above them by fifty feet, a pair of helicopters hovered, searchlights tuned on them. As Drew focused his eyes, he saw who was driving them- people with the same badges.
All the Guardsman did was flick the wrist of his right hand. A spear-like shape nearly the size of his body shot out from his cloak and into his hand. With the noise above, one normally wouldn't be able to hear him. Yet, he needed only whisper his single word response.
"Go."
"I've told you once, madam, and I'm totally going to tell you again," Soos declared, "I'm not interested."
Sitting in a lavish chair of violet and silver, a triangle with a flat head and single eye stared at him, wearing an elaborate hat and holding before her as a cane a similar elaborate umbrella. In the sight around Soos was the memory of his old house with his Grandmother, who had long since been laid to rest. Yet the woman was walk about the home as if she was still alive, humming to herself as she cleaned with a vacuum cleaner.
"Soos, dear child," the cool tone of the being known only as Kelly said back, "I do not attend to those I've known to not seek what I offer."
"Come again?" Soos asked, "You always talk sorta weird."
The single eye in the silver-lined triangle rolled in exasperation. "I said I know that's not true. If you didn't want me, I wouldn't be here."
"Yeah right," Soos crossed his arms and pouted.
"Soos," the triangle floated up, moving herself closer to the man, "Why do you trust me so little?"
"Dude, not to be racist or anything, but I've had bad experiences with demons," Soos stated worriedly. "Like, bad times, dawg."
"Racist, indeed," she snorted, and floated back to her seat.
"I said I wasn't trying-"
"Sweetheart," Abuelita, Soos's grandmother suddenly interrupted, "Do you want me to pack a sandwich for your day at work?" she asked, her thick accent cutting into her words.
"Sure thing!" he chirped happily. The grandmother nodded and strode out of the room, easily hoisting the vacuum cleaner up as she left. Soos smiled as he watched her go, happy to see a memory so vividly.
"Your heart is so pure," Kelly sighed.
"Hey, what?" Soos cringed, and lifted himself away from her. "Don't be touching my heart or anything, dude!"
"I would never remove your heart from your chest. Such vulgar actions," the sides atop her triangle shivered, "I am a woman of class, after all. No, Soos, I truly meant it. You have a pure heart."
"Really?"
"Really," she nodded gently.
"Huh," Soos sat back down, his suspicion-filled eyes never leaving the demon. After he finally was unmoving, he managed, "Thanks."
"It's one of the reasons why I'm here still, you see," she explained, waving her small, thin arm through the air, and a gaudy, flowery kettle and two small cups popped into existence. "You see, I am a lady with a job," she wove her hand about further, and the drink poured itself into the cups before they floated to her and Soos.
"A job?" Soos asked, now staring at the floating cup next to his head.
"Oh yes. I am not one who merely finds people at random and provokes intellectual conversation," she chuckled, and sipped the tea with her eyelid, "Ahh, quite gentle. It's Cordovian Moon-Tea. Try some?" she offered.
"Uh, maybe," Soos worriedly stared at the cup.
"But you must understand Soos, it was your character that allowed me to come and find you in your, well, memories," she said pleasantly.
"What do you mean?" Soos asked just as the tea began to orbit his forehead.
"Well, we demons cannot interact with mortals usually. For the past, goodness – how long has it been? Five, maybe? Almost six hundred years? Hm. Well, for many centuries, Earth has been a difficult place to navigate. It has been difficult to interact with memories and the past, and since Bill took over that spit of land," she sighed and adjust in her seat, "It's been rather hard to get any human interaction at all. But now, since things have changed, I can find men and women recalling something vividly, like it was before them, and then," she snapped her fingers, and the image around them vanished into a white space, "I am here."
"Aww, bring it back?" Soos asked, looking around himself. "At least the chair is still here," he admitted happily, sinking into the chair. Kelly the Demon sighed, and then snapped her fingers, and the chair vanished. Soos fell to the solid white ground with a gentle thud. "Aww, really?!" he demanded.
"Soos, I am here because I was asked to find you," she said, "And I would have left the moment you woke up two nights ago. But I see you are desperate for help."
Soos crumpled in on the accusation. "Well, you're wrong," he pouted.
"Am I?" she asked him.
"Yeah, dawg!" he shouted.
"Soos, as the Demon of the Past, my power does not come with how I effect the present, but the past," she explained floating closer, "My abilities can change that what is by removing, or adding, something to the was. And I know that is what you wish."
"You're just saying that because you demons love deals," Soos pointed out, "Just like Bill."
That ruffled her ruffles. The triangle shifted in her spot, clearly displeased with the likeness. "I am nothing like my brother," she scowled.
"Wait, your brother?" Soos gasped.
"Yes. Bill is one of my brothers," Kelly nodded.
"A family of triangles? Well, that's weird," Soos shrugged.
"Soos, please, focus," she growled, "You have the potential to change so much in this world. For better. For worse. All you need do is ask me," she said, her size growing drastically larger as she peered down on him.
"A-Ask?" Soos repeated as he stepped back.
"Yes," her distorted voice commanded, "Ask. I will change the past. Warp it. Twist it. Make it how you wish, and change the horrible situation you're now in. If you think yourself so useless," she added, and she floated away, "Why do you not jump at the chance to change it all?"
Soos's mouth was agape and his words failed him with short stuttering. She was now retreating, the single eye peering so endlessly upon him. The further she floated away, the heavier Soos felt himself growing. Slowly he fell back and sat, his head swimming.
"Soos, you and your friends are in danger," she said, "And it was because you did not take the chance and ally with me that they will continue to be in danger. If only you were braver." The darkness grew like ribbons from her, engulfing the world at large. Her voice echoed as a wind, a crashing wave, and Soos felt his eyes closing. "If only you had..."
Black abyss wrapped around him, all Soos could see was a simple image- Bronze in color and in make of metal. Two hands, coming together to hold a four-pointed star that burned with some sort of fire.
Then Soos opened his eyes in his bed, sweat pouring from his face. He gasped as air escaped his lungs.
Looking to the ceiling, Soos jumped as he heard movement coming right for him.
"Dude, you okay?"
Soos spun to the words, and saw her, the only person who would always be up. Soos gasped, and then let out a big, heavy sigh. "Wendy. Oh man, dude," Soos sighed.
"Nightmare, huh?" she asked him, standing above him.
"I, uh," Soos blinked. He looked over to the window, his eyes now seeing what his ears heard. Helicopters were buzzing around the building, making odd, jerky paths through the night sky.
"Yeah dude," Wendy nodded, noticing his eyes, "Like half a minute ago, these choppers just showed up and started buzzing around the place."
Soos pulled himself up, and looked to Wendy. "Hey, uh, totally not being weird here, but could you check the door and see if there aren't people outside or anything?"
At his sudden request, Wendy cocked an eyebrow. She glanced at the door, and then shrugged. "Uh, sure," she nodded slowly, and left his side. As she did, Soos quickly reached over and slid on his T-Shirt, and began to pull on his pants. All his instincts, untrained as they may be, told him he was in danger. A moment later, Wendy ran back into the main room, her eyes wide. She urged Soos, "There's, like, six dudes outside the door! With guns, and stuff!"
"Crud!" Soos swore, and clapped his hands, "Dipper! Mabel!"
The twins, each to their side of the bed, jolted and awoke.
Mabel shot upright at the hip. "Say the word, my mas-" Mabel said, and looked around. "Oh. Less cool."
Dipper, rubbing his face, grumbled, "Wassit?"
"I think we got company outside," Soos shoved a thumb at Wendy, nearest to the Door.
"Yeah," Wendy said, "We should probably call the cops or some-"
BANG.
Something solid and sturdy collided with the hotel door. Wood splintered and fractured at the sides, caving in the door slightly. Waddles squealed and dived off Mabel's bed, scrambling underneath the lifted mattresses.
Mabel shrieked and dived for her clothing. "No way am I actually going to be fighting with nothing but a night-shirt and underwear!" she growled.
Dipper, having rolled off the bed, was desperately clawing at his backpack. "Number two, c'mon," he muttered.
As the twins and Soos prepared themselves, Wendy improvised a response. She shouted at the door, "Get lost!" She leant over and grasped a vase on one of the dressers. "Err- we're armed!" she lied angrily.
The last moment of real peace before everything went bad, Soos could only hear one realization in his head.
"Kelly was right," he gasped.
CRASH.
The door was knocked off the hinges and fell to the floor. The moment it fell, a man stepped in, wearing black fabrics and simple protective gear. In his hands, at his hip, he held a shotgun. Wendy was faster, and the moment he stepped over the threshold, she tossed the solid art-piece. With a crack and shatter, the pieces of the vase scattered past his head, and he fell aside into the bathroom next to the door.
Wendy barely got out of the way in time before pistol fire echoed into the room. Mabel was already on the ground, and rolled aside; desperately wiggling her legs into her pants as bullets soared over her head. Dipper, across the other side of the bed, felt fabric tear and land nearby, and he ducked even lower, aware of the danger around him.
Soos pressed himself against the wall, next to Wendy.
"Dude, they're shooting at us!" Soos gasped.
Wendy, pulling Soos against cover as best she could, heatedly agreed, "Yeah, I noticed!"
Movement was around the corner, and the gunfire was gone. Wendy shook her head side to side for a single moment before she rolled around the corner, reached out, and yanked into the room a woman only a few years older than her or Soos. The woman, wearing the same kind of appeal that the first did, stumbled.
Mabel was quick, and kicked out a foot, having the unknown woman fall back. Two more bullets shot out and into the ceiling as the woman fell onto her back. Dipper, at her head, made a quick jab out, striking her temple before she fell unconscious.
Wendy turned just in time to see another rushing in, gun drawn; pointed at Wendy's stomach. The gun fired. One, two, three shots into the redhead, and Wendy just grunted each time. As she reached out and kneed the attacker in the gut, he cried aloud, "The redhead is the undead one!"
Grasping him by the chin, Wendy delivered a haymaker to the man's face. He fell back, and Soos lifted an end table. As he did, the man rolled further inside, and Mabel kicked out, now dressed with pants, kicking his hand aside. As the pistol freed itself from his grip, he reached out for Mabel's neck. Dipper, however, was on the aggressive. He dived out, yelling as he collided with the man's side and tackled him into one of the two beds.
"Dipper, dude, move!" Soos pleaded as he swung down the end-table onto the man's head. Barely in time, Dipper rolled aside. The end table collided like a meteor. Fragments of wood and nails exploded around him. The man, now blooded in the face and unconscious, went limp and fell to the ground.
Wendy fell back into the room as Soos stood up. Riddled with bulletholes, the red-head gasped as she held her stomach for a moment before trying to stand back up. Yet someone rushed inside, and swing a powerful kick straight into her face, knocking her back across the room.
"Hey!" Dipper snarled and jumped at the man, driving his own kick at the man's gut. A mistake, as only then did Dipper realize that the man was easily taller than Soos, and muscle bound. Dipper stumbled back, and gulped as the figure raised a pistol to Dipper's face.
Soos rushed in with a loud, "NO!" and he tackled the huge figure. Regardless of the man's physique, little could withstand the entirety of Soos crashing into someone instantly. Up against the wall and onto the floor the two spilled, and Soos hastily climbed onto him, and slammed an arm onto his chest. "I made a promise, dude! I'm going to keep it!" he shouted down onto the man, and slammed into his chest again.
At the door, two more rushed in. Their focused trained quickly onto Soos, who continued to pound his fists onto the slowly failing movement of the musclebound man. Guns raised, they barely had a moment's hesitation before their aim was onto Soos.
"Soos, move!" Wendy rushed forward again, diving into the hail of gunfire. There, in the barrage of sound and metal, she stumbled and fell to their feet, her jacket and shirt torn to shreds. Even as she hit the floor, the wounds she gained closed quickly, not a drop of blood or gore coming of them. She was, at it would be, perfectly fine.
From behind Wendy, Mabel roared, "Twin double take down!" and leapt into the air, driving her two feet into their chests. Stumbling back, Wendy scrambled ahead, clawing at the feet. Her grips proved as anchors, and they fell back. As Mabel landed to her feet, she nodded. "Dipper! Your go!" she looked about, her brother still missing. "Dip?"
"I'm working on something!" Dipper shouted, on the ground, scrounging for this things.
"What? Just do it," she pointed, "Knock 'em out 'n stuff!" she declared.
"I got it!" Wendy shouted, already clawed up next to the two, and drove her elbows into the two.
"I got–" Dipper stood up, one of his journals open by his feet.
The fight was already done and over. Five bodies, each dressed in the same manner, lay scattered about the floor. The walls and ceiling were covered in holes barely centimeters in width.
Wendy turned about, examining the damage around her clothes. "Really?" she growled, "That's another new coat. How the heck do superheroes and nineties action dudes use leather coats if they keep getting torn up like this!?" she snapped.
"A little slow on the end there, bro," Mabel sighed, ignoring the clattering crash as a generic painting from the wall fell to the floor.
"Sorry," Dipper said, shaking his head, "I'm was just trying to-"
"Soos!" Wendy called out, ignoring the damage on her coat.
The three turned to Soos. He was still, albeit weakly, pummeling the already unconscious man into the ground. Wendy came to him, attempting to adjust her shredded clothing to accommodate her modesty, but otherwise approached Soos. "C'mon, big guy," she said to him, "Ease off him."
"I made a promise," Soos repeated.
"Everything is fine," she reminded him, "No one is hurt. 'Cept my clothes," she added as a grumble.
"I can't let anything happen," Soos re-stated, and closed his eyes, doing as Wendy suggested and leaning back, "And he was gonna-"
"Soos," Mabel chimed in quietly, her voice frail with worry, "We're all okay. Right?" she asked, as the scared pig nudged Soos with his nose.
Soos nodded. His frantic breathing, already coming to a respectable control, slowed and he focused. The handyman, watched by his comrade, pointed to the fallen man by the floor. "Look dudes," he said, "He's got a thingy on him."
Dipper quickly passed his sister, desperate to involve himself in the action, even after the heat was gone. He reached down to the unconscious man, finding a strange pin. "It's a icon."
"Lemme see!" Mabel demanded, pushing aside her brother slightly to see for herself. Wendy then reached over and tore it from the vest, ripping fabric and bending the metal broch.
"I've never seen anything like it before, man," she muttered, holding it up for all to see.
"Two hands? Are they holding fire?" Dipper asked. "Maybe one of the journals has something about that, but I've pretty sure I've never seen that before either."
"It's an alien cult!" Mabel declared.
"Really?" Dipper asked her with a glare. "Aliens again?"
"I was right before, wasn't I?" Mabel pointed out.
Dipper rolled his eyes, and reached forward to the pin. Yet it wasn't his hands which were faster – Soos had snatched his arm out, and pulled the metal piece away from Wendy. Dipper turned, surprised to say the least that Soos could move that fast at all- let alone for a small pin.
"I've..." Soos started, his eyes wide as he examined the metal object.
Scanning Soos from a distance, Dipper carefully asked, "Soos, what is it?"
"This isn't good dudes," Soos gulped as he held up the pin.
Dipper and Mabel's eyes ate up the image. The small pin, barely the size of a quarter, was of a simple enough image – two crossing arms holding up a star. The star, or star thingy, was burning with fire, and it floated just out of reach of the two hands and the fingers in each hand.
"Do you know this, Soos?" Dipper asked, shocked at Soos's apparent recognition.
"Well, uh," he muttered, and then lowered the pin to the ground, "Not really dudes, but I got a bad feel, you know? Right? Like, when you see that one name from a company and just go 'huh, totally up to no good'."
"Like the Umbrella-Stand Organization!" Mabel declared.
"Exactly!" Soos proclaimed.
Dipper looked to his friend. It had never crossed his mind, not in the longest time of knowing Soos, that the Handyman was capable of lying. Soos was always direct and, well, blunt about things. Heck, even if he was hiding out of sight, he tended to let people know he was doing so.
In Dipper's recent exposure to hiding secrets, he had come to see the face of a liar a lot. Each time he glanced in a rear-view mirror, he saw that look in his eyes-burying regret. The struggle of keeping something so important away from someone so close. Soos, for the first time since they had known him, had that look.
Dipper cleared his throat and looked directly to his friend. "Soos, are you sure you don't know where that's from?" Dipper asked.
The large man stared back, his eyes widening. "Uh, well-"
"Shh," Wendy suddenly hissed.
"What?" Mabel asked, and the four went quiet. Only Waddles gently oinked, nervous about their silence.
Running. From the hallway, footsteps were coming closer.
"Uh," Wendy gulped, and her voice went squeaky, "I'm not an expert on the matter, but I think we got more company."
"Hide!" Dipper ordered, and grabbed the pistol on the floor himself.
The four stood and rushed away. Wendy instantly ran for the corner bathroom, kicking aside the legs of the unconscious one inside. Soos dived for the corner, and stumbled back up to his feet, holding his own suitcase, ready to swing it in action. Dipper and Mabel took cover with Waddles next to the bed side. A hand reached over to Dipper, and slowly tugged the handgun down.
Dipper looked over to his sister, who's hand was on his gun. "Mabel, let go," Dipper growled at her.
"No guns," she whispered.
"What?"
"No guns," she hissed.
"Really?" He hissed, "The ones coming in won't see it coming. We could use the advantage."
"You want to sink to their level?" she pointed out.
Dipper looked at her, her brown eyes peering into his. Was it an order? No. Yet Dipper felt, as much as he hated to ever admit it, she was correct. They were able to win one fight before, they could do it again. He dropped the pistol down the ground, but not before disarming it and letting the clip rattle to the ground.
The footsteps were just around the corner. Tense could not describe the feelings that washed over the four. Shadows around the corner heralded the coming figures.
A voice, all too familiar, came around the side. "Mabel! Dipper! Guys!"
"Zander!?" Wendy gasped, poking her head around the corner. No sooner had she done so then the image of a man, shrouded in a cloak and hood while wearing a silver mask burst in, sliding to a stop just before Wendy. She cried out, "Oh man, it's you!"
"He's here!" Mabel shouted, leaping onto one of the unconscious men on the bed and spring-boarding off him.
From outside in the hallway, a voice asked, "Who's Zander?" as the hiding twins inside the room stood, finally viewing the coming group.
The head of the Paths himself, the Guardsman, or Zander Maximillion, or the Master, or the Teacher, was before Wendy; his height casting a shadow in the doorway. Sliding next to him just a foot away was one of the path members who the four had seen by Mister Pine's home- a boy who carried a guitar case on his back. A pair appeared behind Zander Maximillion, until there was four.
The shorter of the two women behind the Guardsman announced, "They're alive," massaging a bruise across her cheek the size of a fist.
The teenager with the guitar asked again, a tad loud, "Who's Zander?"
The Guardsman stepped inside, sweeping past Wendy and into the room itself. The direction of the face looked to the wall and ceiling, directed toward the bullet holes all around. As he looked about, several of the members, including a very tall, slender woman woman, stepped inside. Wearing a tailored suit that was styled for a man against her thin, muscular body, she looked about, her sharp dark eyes scanning the sights.
At the cloaked man, Mabel beamed. "You showed up," she swooned, her eyes shimmering as she looked up to the masked man.
"Surprising, too," Dipper pointed out, "Considering we were just attacked."
The taller of the two women stated mathematically, "We were to intercept them," as she pushed past the twins, towards the windows. Pulling aside the curtain, she scanned the skies. "The helicopters are still looking for Darren and Nadan. We have time."
"Good," the voice of the Guardsman emanated as he nodded. He turned half way, indicated the those before him, "Secure the hallway." As he said this, Maureen darted back towards the broken door and left it vacant. "Rin, Drew, the bodies please," the man asked of the two in the room with him.
"Wait, are they d-" the teen named Drew gasped.
Wendy assured him quickly, "They're unconscious, dude."
As drew took the chance to sigh, the tall woman declared, "Irrelevant. Drew," the tall woman strode next to drew twins, "Move them into the bathroom."
"Okay," Drew sighed, and made for the tall, thick-bodied man with more muscle to spare. Though a trained combatant he may be, the teen named drew struggled to lift the man up. He enviously watched as Rin easily lifted two unconscious people onto her shoulders, and strode past him.
Zander walked past his disciples, to the twins and Soos. "Are you four okay?" he asked.
"Duh," Mabel grinned, "We are the human equivalent of the titanium! Or the plagues!"
Smirking at the assessment, Wend assured Zander, "We can handle some crazy would-be assassins."
"Not assassins," Zander Maximillion said, glancing behind him to the boy named drew, who had abandoned lifting the man for the sake of just dragging him across the floor. Zander told them with a hint of sadness, "These are brainwashed members of a cult."
Soos gasped. "A demon cult!?"
The cloaked man wearing a mask looked back to Soos. "Not unless Graupner Kinley's transcended humanity altogether."
"Wait, you mean Graupner is behind this?!" Dipper gasped.
"But really," Mabel poked his arm, "Who else would it be? Like, the government kind of doesn't care about us anymore I think, and everyone else who doesn't like us are scared of us."
"Yeah," Dipper agreed with a nod, "Graupner is the only one stupid enough to send people to get us for him." Dipper glared at the tall, masked figure. "Still, how did you know to find us? I thought you were too busy to talk to us today."
"Dipper," Mabel smacked his arm gently, giggling. She turned to Zander, "He's just being a suspicious little brother."
"Little!?" he demanded from his sister.
Standing to her tallest, Mabel eyed him and dangerously stated, "Alpha twin."
Clearing his throat with a small, nervous chuckle, Soos asked, "Look, mister Zander, maybe you could-"
"Wait," Drew stopped half way in the bathroom, "That's who Zander is? You guys know his real name!?"
The dark, veiled figure slowly turned to him, slow as a shadow creeping across a patch of earth in the mid-day sun. "Drew," he said calmly, and with tones deadlier than any poison, "Keep working, please."
As if winter river water had been poured down his back, Drew jolted. "R-right, sir!" he nodded and darted back to his chores, red in the face. Bending over, he had to continuously readjust the strap around his shoulder. As he got busy again, the other path walker lifted up another body. While she remained silent, the tall woman with long, black hair glanced at the four. If she didn't constantly look bored out of her mind, one could say she was interested in the conversation.
Turning back to Soos with a chilly aura, Zander quietly said, "Soos, that name doesn't mean anything here."
Though he nodded, Soos' retention was questionable. "Uh, oh... okay. Is that some fancy code or something?"
Dipper explained with a sour tone, "It means he's not happy we're calling him that."
"Dipper," Zander turned to him. "Please. We're on the same side here."
"Then you don't mind saying how you got here when you did?" Dipper reminded him.
The man nodded slowly, checking behind him on the progress of the six unconscious figures. The cloaked being said calmly, "I had a tip-off from a reliable source that you would be found here. The four of you are all being tracked."
"How!?" Dipper gasped as Mabel and Wendy turned to him. "I even got new phones for everyone and everything! If Graupner had found a number to track us, it would have changed!"
"Except for your phone," Mabel pointed out.
"I..." Dipper swallowed his words. He did have a counter for that; he had practiced a small protection charm on his spell, which would alert him to any kind of tracking or scrying. Retorting with the certainty of having a spell on his phone, which prevented others from magically tracking it was a solid answer. Before Zander and Mabel, he would have to refrain from his own personal backing. Zander would hate that answer, and he didn't need Mabel parroting the man. Rolling his eyes in his best attempt at feigning some amount of fault, Dipper finally said, "Maybe they got my phone. I don't know how though-"
Zander cut in, "They didn't."
"They- wait, what?" Dipper spluttered.
"Then, well, how?" Wendy demanded, "That was like our only real trail!"
"I have a few theories," Zander said, looking around to the four. Soos turned away, scratching his scalp as he lifted off his cap. "I think that either he has a crew hacking all cameras in united states street watches, and is using your vehicles as markers, or has something worse."
"Worse than tracking our movement by our cars?" Wendy snorted. "Really?"
Mabel whined, "But I love my motorcycle. It was a present from dad."
As the other disciples of the paths concluded their work with the unconscious bodies, Zander admitted before them, "It wouldn't matter if you traded it for something else at this point." The teen and tall woman stepped out of the bathroom, locking it behind him. Zander glanced behind himself, over the shoulder, "Rin. You know what to do."
The taller, dark-haired woman nodded. Pushing aside bangs by her eyebrows, she grasped the handle and pulled. With a horrible snapping, the metal twisted and broke apart, leaving only a broken door handle in its place. The teen gave the door a check, pushing against itmomentarily. After the door didn't move, he gave a thumbs up.
The Guardsman nodded, "Good. We can discuss this further, but we must go now."
"Go? Where?" Dipper demanded.
Next to him, Mabel said, "Away from here, duh. It's what I'd do."
Though his face was covered with mask, there was some form of a smile hidden away from sight. "A good instinct, Mabel," Zander nodded, "Now grab your things. We'll be seeing you away from here."
"Really?" Soos asked, "Oh cool! Escorted like a king or something."
"If you really think so," Zander's voice said as he spun around, "You have one minute. Wendy," Zander glanced around, "I think you should change. There's more skin showing than you'd probably want." Wendy's face, already covered with tan and pink freckles, went red and she held up her arms over her chest. "One minute," Zander restated, and entered the hallway with his three followers behind him.
Aside from a pause where Mabel helped Wendy change into better clothes, and where Dipper and Soos distinctly turned and stared at the wall, they left the room in a rush. Their bags packed, they left the room a horrid mess, and waddles at their heels. They raced out of the room, following Zander as they swept down the hallway. Behind the four plus pig, the other three flanked their back, providing a safe covering.
"Man, you guys are legit," Wendy commented as they turned to the minor hallway to the elevator.
"Legit? That's a new one. Thanks!" the red-head only inches shorter than Wendy, smiled like she was at tea.
"So, uh," the boy named Drew looked to the twins, "Hey. I'm Drew. How do you know the, uh, master?"
"I'm Mabel! We met on a dangerous date that lead us through a haunted woods where we battled a witch using music!" Mabel cheerfully answered.
"Huh? What?" the teen shook his head. "You did what?"
"It's a complicated story," Dipper iterated.
With a small squeal, the short pixie-cut woman asked, "Oh my gosh, you like music, master?"
The masked figure shrugged. "I don't dislike music."
When the mouth of the woman Mabel had once called 'the menace' dropped, she marveled, "Wow! He must love music. He talked about Arline like that, and he loved her."
The elevator doors opened, the three stepped into the elevator. The tall women, her eyes sharp as they were dark, looked to the Guardsman before it closed. She declared, "The lobby will be secured."
"See to it, Rin," the Guardsman nodded to her, and the doors closed before him. No sooner had the doors closed than he turned, and tore off the mask. "Really, guys!?" he barked, a irritation within his bright green eyes.
"What?!" Mabel gasped, leaning back and holding onto Dipper's shoulders for support. "What did we do?"
"Yeah, what's eating you?" Dipper retorted.
Lowering the hoodie, the ex-rockstar looked fed up with something. "I'm fairly certain you all know that I have just a few identities," Zander explained, rubbing a hand through his hair, now falling past his eyes, no longer constricted into a pony tail, "And you all should understand, more than others, the reasons why people keep things secret."
"Wait, what do you mean?" Mabel asked as her brother shifted in his stance.
Zander grumbled and rubbed his eyes. "I don't want you all calling me by that name," he said.
"Oh, that was me," Soos apologized, "Sorry. Still getting over the idea that you're even cooler than just being a super rock-star." To his apology, Zander laughed; his eyes locked shut as he bent forward, holding onto his knees. Soos chuckled, and awkwardly added, "Uh, yeah, I guess that's kind of stupid-"
"No, Soos," Zander lifted himself up, smiling kindly, "I loved it. Thank you." He turned to Dipper, his smile, while faded, still lifted. "Look, we're still on the same side. I may hold a secret or two, I want you to know that I'm not going back on you all. Ever."
"Really?" Dipper asked.
"Of course," Mabel answered for him, "This is Zander- I mean, uh- the Guardsman we're talking about!" Mabel winked at Zander, who grinned.
With a warm assurance, the blond secretive man said, "While we're alone, you can call me Zander."
"Thank goodness," Mabel sighed, "I was terrified I'd have to memorize another name to you. Not that it's a problem!" Mabel insisted, "Like, you could be a wonderful James! Or Mark-Anthony! Or Erik!"
"Mark-Anthony?" Zander repeated. He gave the name a thought, and chuckled. "He would have loved that."
"Zander, seriously though," Dipper butted in, his frown still unabated, "Where have you been? Stalking us?"
"He'd never!" Mabel protested, glaring at Dipper. "Don't assume he's doing anything like that! He's helping us!"
Wendy readjusted herself as she inquired, "Then how'd he know where to find us?"
"Exactly," Dipper nodded, and looked from Wendy to Zander, "How?"
Zander nodded silently for a moment, and slowly lifted the mask back on. "Well, I have a friend. She lives north of here, quite a bit. She can see things. The future. The past. The present. And I have worked with her to nip problems in the bud before. I tried being, well, blasé about her warnings. That caused me some grief recently. So, I take what she says very seriously these days," he said as he slipped the mask back on.
Eying the silver mask, Dipper asked, "And she told you where to find us, this psychic or whatever?" To that, Zander nodded. Then Dipper added, "Well, how can you trust her? You already said she's caused grief."
"I trust her," Zander informed him, "the same way I trust you all to do what you must to save the world. Same way I need to protect you."
"What?" Dipper spluttered. Then, somewhere in the set of his mind, something clicked with Dipper as he stared at the mask. The silver before him was a method to conceal his emotions. When Dipper asked these questions, the mask went on. These last questions had all received vague, mysterious answers to which seemed... evasive. Dipper stepped closer. "You're still hiding something from us."
Mabel grumbled, "Dipper, stop being so paranoid-"
"Mabel, no," Zander held out a hand to her, "Dipper isn't wrong."
"He- you- what?" Mabel gasped.
"I do hold things from you. But we all do," Zander stated, "And I would be betraying my friend's trust if I told you anything about... her entire situation," Zander ended.
"I don't... doubt you," Dipper admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, "But there's something else. It's the way you talk about her. That grief," Dipper pointed out, "You usually talk like things have hope, even when it's really bad for us," Dipper nodded to him, "And now you, well, sound like something bad has come up."
The others turned to Zander. As expected, the mask concealed the face of the man, but even then, they could feel the barrier that was the man before them. He stilled himself, staring back down at Dipper from those two slots for eyes, darkness peering into the eager and frightened brown.
Zander however nodded. "It's what I hope to... prevent. Things, well..." he paused, and the elevator behind him opened, "The past sometimes repeats itself."
"Huh?" Mabel asked as Dipper tried registering those cryptic words. "What's happened in the past exactly? Is it Bill?"
Ignoring Mabel's words, Zander spun and strolled into the elevator. "Coming?" he asked them, looking over the shoulder. Despite their curiosity and desire to rebel for more information, they needed to be with him and his students. Traveling with that group was the safest option, not to mention they all were probably strongest people they had ever met. Stepping into the elevator with Waddles in a rush, the doors behind them closed, and the music began to play.
The gentle, bopping tunes started to waft through the air. "Hm. I always liked elevator music," Soos said gently, bobbing his head as the easy tune played through the air.
"Me too," Zander nodded.
"Uh, me too!" Mabel grinned, looking to Zander expectedly.
Dipper looked to the dark cloaked figure. "You still hadn't said what's been making you so busy," Dipper noted.
The shrouded man turned to him, facing him fully. "There are more than just a few Starkissed stones in the world, Dipper," he explained. "The ones I send you to fetch are the ones in America, where I can come to your side fastest. The rest are for me to gather. Also, none of you have passports, and we have enough enemies as it is. Gaining the status of international criminals isn't something I'm interested in."
"Uh, right," Dipper shrugged, and turned half away. Despite Dipper's desires to nail Zander for something, anything, his reply was a good one.
Zander then added in a grumble, "Not only that, but dealing with the force that is Graupner's little cult gang, the Rising Grasp."
"Okay, okay, sorry," Dipper sighed.
"Always so busy," Mabel whistled, "You need a break," she winked at Zander.
The masked man looked back to her and shook his head. "Not from this guy," he said cheerfully.
"Zander," Wendy suddenly spoke up, "So, like, I was thinking about something you said earlier," she said.
"Yes?" he asked.
Wendy winced at her own inaccuracy, saying, "Okay, it was a few times, but, uh, you were talking about-"
The elevator chimed the arrival to the lobby, and Zander cleared his throat. "Again, refrain from calling me 'Zander', okay?" he asked of them.
"Sure," Dipper muttered.
"Gotcha, Guardsman!" Mabel cheered.
Zander looked to Wendy, who screwed her eyebrows in frustration at their arrival. "We can talk later. I'm taking you all to safety now," he said around as the doors opened, "Later we can have a full pow-wow."
Mabel whispered, "I love pow-wows."
"This way," Zander stated with authority as he walked forward.
The lobby, currently filled with frightened on-lookers watched as Zander and the four plus pig stepped out of the elevator, and walked through what could only be described as a warzone. Nearly thirty men and women of all walks of life and ages laid on the ground, broken, bloodied, but seemingly alive. The three of the five members of the Paths who had come to aid in the gang's departure stood around, their eyes scanning the crowd like hawks.
"We're going. Maureen," Zander looked to the shorter red-head with a pixie cut, "Get Nadan and Russell."
"Copy that, dark and sinister boss! One bus coming up," she nodded and reached inside her clothing for a cell phone. From a pocket, she withdrew one and called quickly into it. "Rushy! We're ready for pickup."
Staring at the Guardsman, Wendy asked, "You guys have a bus?"
"Fitting the walkers of the paths, and anyone we needed to rescue, into a normal car wasn't going to happen," Zander told her. He started to turn away, only to looked back to the gang, adding, "And, uh, we didn't have a van on hand, at the time."
Following him out of the lobby and by the street, five white-panel vans laid before them on the curb. "Get to your cars," Zander said, "We'll follow you."
"C'mon!" Dipper called, and made his way in a hurry, adopting a job as he rushed away to their parking spot. Next to a pay per night parking place, the two cars and motorcycle were found, and they began to scramble, putting everything away.
"Inside, Waddles!" Mabel pleaded, and urgently hoisted the terribly frightened pig into Soos's car.
"Don't worry Mabel," Soos panted as he slammed the car hood down, and made his way to the driver side, "I'll keep him safe."
"I trust you!" Mabel grinned, and rushed past him and Wendy, who had just mounted Mabel's bike. "Dipper and I will lead!" she called as she saw Dipper rush into the front seat.
"Will you?" a voice called out. Zander was walking up to her.
"What do you mean?" Mabel asked, and noticed Dipper had stalled climbing all the way in, carefully watching Zander.
The Guardsman told the twins, "I want you all to follow the bus, not the other way around. We'll be taking you to a safe area until I can figure out how they're tracking you. Otherwise, this could keep happening."
"Okay, so we'll follow," Mabel nodded.
"Which means I will be accompanying you," Zander said, and made his way past Mabel, moving towards the front seat.
"Hey, wait a second," Dipper shouted at him.
"What?"
"Mabel is my sister," Dipper pointed to him, "And she's been my co-pilot since this all started. I don't care if I trust you or not, I want my sister next to me if we're going to be riding through possible peril or danger!"
Zander's masked face stared at him, again blocking out potential facial reply. He did not speak. A bus then drove by, slowing down to be half a block ahead of them. The faces of four or so members of the Paths were pressed up against the glass, watching them. Zander stared to them, and then suddenly whipped his head and looked back at the building into the sky. Two helicopters were flying around the building, their lights focusing towards them.
With a twirl back to them, Zander opened the door, and waved for Mabel. "Ladies first," he said.
Mabel, blushing beside herself, rushed into Dipper's car.
As the door next to her was shut closed, the back-passenger door swiped open, and Zander effortlessly climbed in. As the door was next to closed, he reached to Dipper's seat, and gave the word:
"Drive."
Oh Zander, you're so Dramatic. I guess that comes from being a rock star. Or leader of a supernaturally inclined martial art group. Or... being whatever he is. Who he is. It. Bleh.
So, I hope my little intro established my views of how the Paths function. I've talked about them briefly in the past, but this episode functions as a real warm up to something that has played quite the role in this story, and yet never really gotten much discussion. That will be changing, in case the title of this chapter hadn't given you a clue.
Also, a huge apology again. I can't believe how many reviews I got this week from you wonderful people! I did that stupid thing were I procrastinated a few days (with the thought that I'd have the time to sort through them all), and eventually I just couldn't track all of them properly. To those I got back to, yay! :3 To those I missed (especially my returning reviewers) You KNOW I love you. Don't ever stop coming back, because then I'll come find you and be sad. (like reverse Bill Cipher)
So... any guesses what has Zander upset? :o I love your theories. Some of you nail it right on the head, and others are even crazier than I could have thought! XD
(Suddenly EZB sneezes, and is in a dusty, orange and tan desert. His desk is still before him, and he seems entirely out of place.) Ahem. And now time for something completely different: a pair of references with nothing to do with one another.
(A horde of cars, all run by very pale and bald individuals or tanned men, wearing crude armors and heavily modified cars flatten EZB and wreck his desk. A huge truck with a man thrashing on a guitar, suspended by bungee cords, does sick riffs as they blast by, leaving a broken EZB in the desert.)