How long had it been since Mabel had opened her eyes? It seemed so very long. It had felt like she had traveled a distance beyond vast. The deep thrumming of her heartbeat in her ears slowly stirred her eyelids, coming to a flutter. There had been only a dream, one of terror and fright and sadness. She yawned, stretching her lips out as she exhaled loudly.
"Oh, oww," she groaned as she slowly shook her head, only to then jolt it side to side, "My head is killing me. Dipper, you got any aspirin or something?"
By the time her eyes were open, three things were clear. One: Dipper was not there. Two: she had a headache because she was kidnapped by Constance the ghost. Three: She was tied to a chair in the middle of the ballroom.
The moment her eyes open, the entirety of spectral, mostly opaque figures burst into cheers, screaming "Surprise!" and applauding.
Mabel leaned back in her chair, and smiled despite herself. "Curse my love for parties," she murmured as she looked around. She was at the head of a long rectangular table, and across the end was the host of this cursed, haunted mansion, Edward Gracey. With a poof of air, Mabel mumbled, "I should totally be unhappy. Doh, stupid parties."
A loud applause directly next to her shook Mabel, and she jolted, looking to her right. Sitting in an identical chair to hers was Constance.
Edward Gracey held aloft his hands, and the room fell quieter. With his tempered grin made alive with the atmosphere, he called around.
"Friends, one and all, welcome!" he declared, "We are all finally here. It has been a very long time since we've had such, well, festive activities. It has been quite some time since we've been so, dare I say, lively?" he asked, with a grin cracked to his many attendants. Roaring laughter approved his joke.
Mabel snickered. "Hehe, it's funny because you're all dead."
A showman before his own stage, Edward Gracey gladly continued his speech. "So many years it's been. Over a century and a half, and we've had time to think about the state of our souls, have we not?" Gracey said, stepping slowly around the table with deliberate pace. "The piteous circumstances that lead us all here. The actions taken? Long since set behind us. For over a hundred years we have seen only the darkness of this island's loneliness as solitude," Gracey said, the tension in the air growing with his talk.
Mabel huffed, "Talk about drama."
"Shhh," Constance quietly hissed.
"I would if someone gave me popcorn!" Mabel snapped back, and looked down to her body, entirely wrapped in rope, "Or let me out."
"In these many years, I personally have reflected on the mistakes I have made," Edward Gracey looked around, "The damning I have done to myself, and you all. We are, all of us, bound by my mistakes. This night marks the correction and atonement. We will, by this night's end, I assure you," Gracey turned about, widely smiling, "No longer be shackled by this curse!"
The applause and cheers were deafening. Cries and whistles shook the air, and Mabel nodded. "Yay! This is good!" she cried around, catching Edward Gracey's attention.
"And," he said, holding a hand towards Mabel, "We have this young lady to thank."
"Ahhhh, right," Mabel tensed up, her teeth bared in a forced smile, "I was really afraid you'd say something weird and creepy like that."
His eyes brimming with some dark excitement, Edward Gracey explained, "Young lady, it's because of you and your friend's arrival that we have had such a stirring. Only passing by locals have stirred us, but never dared step foot onto this stained island," Edward Gracey nodded around himself, "And because of that, you've all awoken us from our state of apathy. We're now remembering what we wish – to move on."
"Well, shoot! Glad we could help!" Mabel shrilly said, looking around for any signs of Dipper or Soos or Wendy. "Maybe, uh, since we were such a big help to you silly spooks, you'd be willing to, I dunno, let me out?" she asked with a high pitched whine. "If you do, I can do tricks for you! I'm quite the party planner myself."
"We already have musicians and performers for that," Edward chuckled, and waved above his head. Resting on a chandelier above Mabel was no less than six men of odd shapes and sizes and colors, lazily playing instruments, cackling loudly.
Mabel looked back down. "Amateurs. I could one-up them. Gimme a chance?" she asked with a frantic smile.
"Oh, dearest child," Gracey snorted, "You must see why it is we are in need of a living human this night."
"NO!" Mabel roared.
Leaning back, Gracey cleared his throat. "You do not?" he asked.
"Uh, no? Not like, uh, there's anything obvious about undead and ghosts needing a living captive or anything!" Mabel gulped. She chuckled despite her fear, and looked about the hundreds of eyes upon her. The pressure of the ethereal stares ate at her confidence and she trembled in her seat, until the moment when she then exploded out a gasp of air. "AHH! You're going to sacrifice me to some mad, pre-universal god of insanity of space and time so he can revive you, aren't you!?" she bawled, and cried in her chair.
"No," Edward grumbled.
"Oh good," Mabel immediately piped up, smiling.
"Mortals," Edward shook his head and looked to his ghostly cohorts, "So temperamental. They think mortality is on the line and it's all to the wet-works," Edward shrugged.
"Well, if you're not killing me," Mabel said, trying to adjust in her chair, "What are you doing with me?"
"Tonight," Edward proudly stood before Mabel, "We are celebrating a wedding!"
"Oh!" Mabel gasped, and then she laughed. "That's such a relief!" she cried, leaning into the chair as much as her restraints let her, "I didn't know you guys knew I could legally marry someone!"
"You can what?" the leader of the performers on the chandeliers asked.
"Well, it's what I tell my friends," Mabel huffed, "Even if it's not true, I'm gunna. One day."
"The reason you are here, dear child," Edward Gracey smiled, "Is so that we have the requirements of this wedding settled. After all, what kind of wedding would it be while 'till death do us part' is a part of it, and there is no one who fears it being wed?"
Mabel stared at him, squinting. "Uhhh, right. I don't follow, good gentle-sir."
"What my father is saying," Constance quietly explained, standing up, "Is that for the vows to be truthful, someone in my wedding cannot be dead."
"I see how that's sort of a problem," Mabel squinted, "Have you tried 'not being dead'?" she asked them.
Ignoring her statement, Constance turned to her father. "Father, let me possess her now, please?" she asked.
Mabel's body tensed up instantly. Every fiber of fear and mortal terror in her soul shot out and she yelled in her seat. "NO! NON! NIEN!" she shrieked. "Not ever, nor once more, again!" she declared, and then glared at the father figure, "Besides, this won't save anything, will it?! You husband-killer!" she shouted, leaning out and gnashing at the air with her teeth.
The audience around them gasped at Mabel's bold accusations. Edward glared at the tied-up child, entirely ignoring his daughter's approach. "Father," Constance tried again, "Please? I wish to feel through the body of a mortal."
"Soon, once she has agreed. You must have her agree, or else she may break free from the ceremony," Edward explained to his daughter, "And then break your wedding."
"But I wish it!" Constance snapped. Though Mabel saw nothing, the retreat from the crowd stunned Mabel. Ghosts stepped away from Constance, and her father took a step back. A darkness crept from the woman like shadowy tendrils. Just as fast as they had come, the darkness was then gone again.
"See, young lady," Edward stepped around his daughter, who remained rooted in her spot, "My daughter needs to be wed to a groom this eve. We need one Bride to be alive. If she is wed, this curse perhaps will be finally shattered, and we will all be let to rest," Edward explained to Mabel, leaning down to her chair.
"And I've seen your journal!" she snapped back.
Edward gasped and held a hand to his chest. "How un-cool to read someone else's journal!"
"Yeah? How un-cool is it to bury the dead bodies of your daughter's other husbands!" Mabel said, glaring right at him. He closed his eyes and stood up. Mabel rocked the chair closer. "If I could stand up, I'd whip your face with my hair mid-turn and storm away! And it'd be pretty rad!" she declared.
"You know nothing, child," Edward said, his eyes devoid of pleasure or happiness. "The things I have had to do. What my child has done..." he glanced back.
Constance whipped around to him. "I've grown tired of waiting. One hundred and fifty years I've been promised a suitor. I want a husband!" she shrieked.
"Go and get one yourself," Mabel yelled back, "This girl ain't bein' your brides-maid!" she said, bobbing her head left and right, and snapping her fingers.
"You refuse?" Edward darkly asked. Mabel felt a twinge of regret befall her mind. That tone of voice only ever came from those willing to step up their game, do something worse. Mabel felt the binds of her hands tightly, yet she was alone. Her friends were not here. She cracked a smile.
Sticking out her tongue, Mabel stood her ground. She said, "What're you going to do me, huh?"
With an echoing voice, Gracey offered, "Baffle you with terror of the mind so great and mighty that you would be left a husk of your former self."
Mabel closed her mouth. "Wow. Dark. But not unexpected from a bunch of weirdo ghosties. But if you really thought that'd work, you'd do it!" Mabel retorted. "You need me sane enough to be okay with this! Or at least enough to let it slide! And I know that means we're in a checkmate, sucka!"
Eying the teenager, Edward Gracey corrected, "You mean stalemate."
"You're a stale mate!" Mabel called back.
Gracey studied her. Dark shadows under his eyes deepened, and he sighed. With a snap of his fingers, he called out, "So be it. Bring her out."
Mabel blinked. The crowd of ghosts floated aside, leaving a break in the numbers where the main doors could be seen. Far away, a cluster of figures floated closer. As maids and servants stepped aside, the person was brought out. Wendy, struggling for her freedom, was chained by three strange looking ghosts. One was tall, gaunt, and skeletal. Another was clad in a thick jacket, and sported a top hat. The other was quite short, with a very long beard and a very large bald spot.
"Wendy!" Mabel shouted, "They got you too!?"
Tethered or not, Wendy was able to speak. "Mabel! Dipper and Soos are okay, they got out!" Wendy shouted as the three ghosts floated her up towards one of the many chandeliers. The musicians and performers floated aside as Wendy was slowly lifted up to the large, thick chain holding up the weight of the crystal and metal and oil-lit lanterns. "Whatever it is they're going to do to me, just ignore it!"
"Uh, okay?" Mabel gulped, watching the ghosts begin stretching out the chains, which seemed to add more and more links into the metal binding. Mabel turned to Gracey, "Speaking of which, what are you doing to Wendy!?" she snapped.
"We considered your friend at first," Gracey admitted, floating halfway between Wendy and Mabel, "She was young, and closer in appearing by age-standards to my daughter than you. However, as your exploration awoke my daughter, it became clear that she," Edward looked back up to Wendy, "Was not alive. She could not be possessed by other spirits."
"Hah!" Mabel cheered, "Another bonus for being a badass Corduroy!" Mabel cheered. Wendy sheepishly smiled and rolled her eyes.
Gracey looked down to Mabel. "But now, instead of unraveling the mysteries of this one, this... girl in-between life and death," he explained, "We now have her, your friend, in custody as well."
Mabel blinked. "Oh. Right." But she laughed, remembering Wendy's condition. "But it won't matter! Wendy was tough before she had all that magic stuff happen to her! She's practically invincible now!"
"Perhaps to events and conditions that incite death," Gracey snorted, "But... I now know, having watched her defend your brother and friend, that she does still, in fact, feel," he said, and a terrible growing light lingered in his eyes. "Feels anger," he said, and Mabel's eyes grew wide as more and more chains swarm around Wendy, tying her to the support of the chandelier. "The anger of being out of her own control. She will feel fear, the fear of losing her own destiny, as we have," Gracey said, his hands grown into fists that shook with crackling energy of dark violet and yellow. The chains around Wendy tightened, and then wrapped around her arms and legs, leaving the rest of her unfettered.
"Wait, what are you going to do to her?!" Mabel demanded.
"And imagine the pain of feeling the weight of something greater than you pulling yourself... apart," Gracey warned, lifting one of his hands towards the ghosts holding Wendy. "Physically... pulling..."
Two of the ghosts floated closer to the lasting chains that connected the chandelier to the ceiling. Mabel snapped, "Leave her alone!" yet they continued their actions. "You could really hurt her!" Mabel shouted.
"Pain and suffering are only a twitch in the existence to the dead," Edward Gracey barked, and snapped his fingers.
The ghosts began to pull and tug on the metal frame of the chains. Wendy and Mable watched as slowly the supporting chains began warped. Slowly, surely, they would give. It was only a matter of time.
"Please! Let her go!" Mabel shouted.
Despite the constricting chains that rattled and groaned, tightening slowly, Wendy groaned out, "Don't you do it, Mabel. It's not that bad."
"If you let her go-" Mabel started.
"You will allow me in?" Constance asked, floating closer.
Mabel stared up to Wendy, and the ghosts nearby her, who had paused, watching her. Even if Wendy wouldn't die, it would be terrible. The weight of the massive chandelier would tug and stretch Wendy's body, tearing it and pulling it apart. Even if Wendy wouldn't die, Mabel was certain that the ghosts wouldn't stop. If they were willing to use someone who couldn't die as a means to threaten Mabel... she had only one hope.
She stared into Constance's eyes. "I'll letcha in my head."
Constance grinned widely, and her father waved away the ghosts nearby Wendy. Wendy struggled against her own chains, and shouted.
"No! Mabel, stop! Man, this isn't right!" Wendy shouted. "You've already dealt with this before! You don't need to again!" she cried out as Constance floated closer.
"You've dealt with enough pain," Mabel shrugged and gave a watery smile to Wendy, "At least I know what it's like... being controlled like a puppet."
Constance came closer, and then vanished into a puff of blue and green mystic smoke. The colors surrounded Mabel, swirling around her. Wendy watched as her body twitched and trembled, spasms jolting the girl in the chair. The ropes around Mabel fell loose as the blue colors faded.
"Mabel?" Wendy asked.
Mabel made no reply.
"My daughter?" Edward tentatively asked.
Mabel opened her eyes. Her large brown eyes were replaced with deep-sea blue. She smiled, and stood up. She lifted her hands above her head, giving her arms a stretch.
She said, with Mabel and Constance's voice, with a great, wide, grin, "I'm ready to be wed."
"No games, not right now!" Dipper shouted at the concerned looking middle-aged man. "Soos, close the door," Dipper snapped.
Unraveling himself from his messy state, Soos stood up from the curtains. "I was perfectly hidden," he noted, and rushed to the doors, giving them a steady close. As they were plunged into darkness again, Dipper was quick. He lunged back, and got his phone out, flooding the place with gentle light. In the dim light, they saw him.
The man before him, cleaning himself off, huffed. "I agree. This state is too dire to make any kind of fun out of it," Stanford Pines noted with a stern nod, and then gave a second thought, "Although, having a study about the effects of games with the living dead could be fascinating."
Before Dipper stood a ghost. Certain of it. There was no other explanation for it. Stanford Pines, the traitor twin of Stanley Pines, had been gone, whisked away from reality for three years. The only way such an image could stand before Dipper and Soos was if he was some sort of spirit, an echo, or something. Yet, Dipper looked to the journal he had weaponized. He had felt the impact against Ford's head, something no incorporeal would have allowed. Ford was, at least, physically here.
Dipper, feeling a tug of madness and frustration all gnawing at his mind, barked out, "Stanford, how are you here!?" trying to keep his voice level, remembering how outside, the undead were stalking around for them.
"Pardon?" Stanford asked, his eyes widening, and he adjusted his glasses on his nose.
"Well, not to remind you of bad times," Soos said, coming next to Dipper, "Last time we met, you kinda were tossed into a portal with big-bad-Cipher. Into some sort of anti-dimension, or something."
Stanford started at them. His eyes widened and his jaw loosened. "You... you know about my portal?" He stepped closer, but Dipper held up the weaponized journal.
"Back," he warned.
"Fine, fine," Stanford grumbled, "Just answer me this – what has become of my research laboratory? If you know about the dimensional portal, you'd surely know about my research materials. I'm, uh, uncertain how you came across it. Oh!" he snapped his fingers, "It was Stanley, wasn't it!? That maniac allowed you children into my private studies!"
"Maniac?" Soos asked, the slightest hint of a growl at calling Stanley Pines anything but positive.
"Children!?" Dipper repeated.
"Well, perhaps not, uh, children," Stanford shrugged, "But younger. And he gave you my journals!" he barked. "Or... wait... did you get that on your own?"
Ford looked at these two like he had never seen them outside the photo he held in his left hand. That old photo that Dipper was sure had been lost to time, which Omir Steindorf had taken of the crew just several weeks ago. Why wasn't Ford acting more… like how Dipper remembered? What was going on?
Lowering the book ever so slightly, Dipper repeated, "You know, not to be a broken record or anything, but maybe you could tell us what you know about what had happened?"
"Yeah! And how you've reverted in age!" Soos demanded. "That's dark secrets that surely require the sacrifices of virgins."
Stanford stared at Soos. Only a few moments later did he shake his head and hold out his hand. "So, I can assume you know of Stanley, yes? How intimately are you connected to–"
"He's my second father that is greater than the first!" Soos roared proudly. Dipper elbowed him. "Sorry. Got impassioned."
"Stanley is my great-uncle," Dipper admitted.
Stanford gasped as his hands fell before him. "Wait... you're... but I never... wait, which means... Shermie?" he gasped, and stared at Dipper. "Same nose. The hair... that chin scruff," he gasped.
"It's a beard," Dipper grumbled.
"Hah!" Stanford barked, "And that determination! You... you're really a Pines, aren't you?" he asked, "My great nephew, right?"
There was something to be said about watching Stanford Pines act this way. When last they had met, Dipper remembered the shock of meeting youthful kids in this portal chamber, but Stanford had never acted like it was a surprise to realize they were related. And now, all of a sudden, Stanford Pines was before them, looking younger, and undergoing a realization that he was speaking to a teen related to him. The anger in Dipper's heart subsided slightly. This... felt different. The Stanford Pines they had met wouldn't have bothered going through such a spectacle. Dipper steadied his sympathy; he rationalized that Ford would, if it was the only option to getting something. This could be some sort of ruse.
"Look," Dipper said, "I think we deserve some answers, Ford."
"Ford?" Stanford asked. "Only Stanley called me that."
"Yeah, well, he's our Grunkle," Dipper explained.
Ford's eyes narrowed and he grimaced. "What on earth is a-"
"Dawg, just answer the questions, and maybe we won't tie you up or something!" Soos threatened.
Dipper leaned away, staring at Soos with wide eyes. "Wow. Nice threat," Dipper nodded.
"Thanks dude," Soos grinned back.
"Okay, okay," Stanford grumbled, holding up his hand. "Look, I don't know how much you know about my past. It sounds like you've met me before, and by the sounds of it, under less than desirable circumstances. So," he continued, "How about I explain how... I can explain how the portal came to be? Is that what you'd like?" he suggested. Dipper and Soos shrugged. "Well, alright then."
"One night, thirty-five years ago," Stanford explained, "I received a call. At first, I thought it was a prank caller, as no one answered. But upon my threats to hang up, I heard his voice. It was Stanley. He called me. It had been, gosh, almost a decade since we had spoken to one another, and he just called in out of the blue. Among the most awkward conversations with people, I had never anticipated that one would be with my own brother, but..." Stanford shuddered, "Ugh! That was pretty bad."
"Stan called you?" Dipper asked.
"Yes," Stanford nodded, "He admitted how difficult it had been since last they had seen each other, and he was wondering how I'd been doing. Well, considering I had accomplished twelve PHDs, and Stanley was broke, I, uh, took little chance to brag. Being, fair, of course."
Disappointed and scowling, Dipper translated, "Which means you were a jerk and bragged into his face."
"His phone-face," Soos added with a grunt.
"I had no idea how bad it had gotten for Stanley. He barely had a coin left in his pocket, and had used some of his last ones just calling me," Stanford admitted in a rush. "When he heard of how much I had made for myself, he was ready just to hang up. I had never heard him since our father kicked us out, but... I don't know, I was still angry at him, but he had suffered since I saw him. Maybe a second chance wouldn't be too terrible."
Dipper asked, "You did invite him back to the shack?"
"Yes," Stanford nodded, "To mixed result."
"Do tell," Soos asked, scratching his chin, "Because the Mystery Manor was a pinnacle of tourism across the state."
"The Mystery what?!" Stanford barked.
"On topic, please," Dipper grumbled.
"Right," Stanford sighed. He wove the story once more, "It was difficult at first. Stanley hadn't had a permanent home since he was evicted. Having him stay was sort of like adopting a stray dog. He tore into all my food, and broke a lot of my tools and utilities!" Stanford grumbled, "Like my one experimental E.M.F. to Radar converter. That would have been useful during my paranormal researches."
Excitement flooding his brain, Dipper exclaimed, "Your what to what?"
Ford was less interested in the device. He continued, "But as time passed, I remembered why it had been as kids we got so along. I started taking him along with my researches, and he became... invaluable. As many times as he would do something stupid, and short-sighted, he'd be there to help get us out of trouble. With him and I together, things seemed... easier. Better. Like they may have been years ago."
Stanford paused. "Then I ran into a stump. The secrets of Gravity Falls all were tied together. I had no idea what was collecting them to this one valley in the mountains. Gnomes, ghosts, minotaur's, curses, crystals, giant spiders-" Stanford clenched his jaw, "I looked everywhere for the pieces of my missing formula."
"Formula?" Dipper asked.
"Yes. I devised a multi-functioning formula to explain how all the events and creatures of Gravity Falls. I called it 'Gravity Falls Weirdness Magnetism'. Pretty cool, huh?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. The two rocked their heads side to side, dwelling on the coolness of the theorem.
Soos lifted his hand giving it a quick titling wiggle. "So-so," Soos admitted.
With a grumble, Stanford continued. "The formula should have worked! I had all the numbers check out. Whenever something odd calculated by the formula was linked to a location, Stan and I would find it! It was miraculous. But according to the lynchpin, there was a missing piece! Something powerful and dangerous that had to be connecting it all! The center of all the relativity of weirdness! The magnet," Stanford declared.
"You never found it," Dipper said just above a whisper.
"No! To my ever-dying frustration no, especially since in this timeline, or whatever has happened to me," he added, "Gravity Falls vanished, along with all my work! When I find Stanley... ugh!" he grumbled, and shook his head. Dipper glanced to Soos. Together, they silently decided that telling Stanford of his brother's fate would come another day.
"But then, while out on a stroll, I came across a dream, in which I met a monster – Bill Cipher," he said.
Dipper's body tensed up and he heard the distant memories of insane laughter in his head. Soos scratched the side of his arm, and looked away. They both had their fair share of horrid experiences with that being beyond sanity.
Ford looked furious as he said, "Cipher was clever and floral with his words. I was fooled by his demeanor into thinking that he could be trusted," Ford sighed. "I was stupid to think he really meant those things. You see, he taught me to how to construct a device that would re-shape technology as we knew it-"
"The dimensional portal," Dipper noted.
"Yes," Ford nodded. "That thing was the brainchild of myself and a mad being beyond our simple understanding. With his greatest teachings, I required someone with almost as much brainpower as myself-"
"Fiddleford McGucket," Dipper said.
"Yes!" Ford gasped. "You know an awful lot of-"
"You?" Dipper glared.
Ford blinked, and coughed. "Uh, well, with Ford's assistance, the three of us were able to do so much. Heck, we even made an entire holiday!" Ford chuckled, "I think it was starting to pick up around the time I... well, not to get ahead of myself," Ford sighed. He then continued, "The three of us added so much to the collection of knowledge. But most importantly, he aided in the construction of the portal. But Stanley just..." The eyes of the six-fingered scientist shimmered, and he shook his head, "I was blinded again."
"How?" Dipper asked.
Ford rubbed his elbow for comfort. "Stan felt something was off. Every time he'd walk in on my meditations with Cipher, he quickly left. Ever since my sessions with that demon, he would never look me in the eye. I felt, as I was foolish to do, he was feeling inferior, and scared. After all, I was about to prove that trans-dimensional travel was possible. Pretty cool, if you ask me."
Ford sighed. "But Stan was... right. One night, Fiddleford was looking through the schematics, and he feared a miscalculation had been made. So, we tested it, the three of us. Disaster struck, and poor McGucket's head was engulfed briefly in the portal. Stan was able to pull him out, but the man changed. He refused to work with us. Said that this portal would... and I regret never listening to him," Ford's form fell, "Destroy us. Bring doom into our world."
With a heat he had felt several times, often when telling someone that he had been right, Dipper grumbled, "He was right, by the way."
Ford shot up straight, looking at Dipper. "But I couldn't have known! Cipher insisted that this was just lesser people scared of the future! He was very persuasive," Ford admitted, holding his right arm, cradling himself slightly with six fingers. Dipper glared, but said nothing. If there was anything correct Dipper had no arguments to, it was that Cipher was persuasive.
Ford had more story to convey. "Stan wouldn't have it any more. He tried standing up to me. Telling me that ever since he saw me enter my sessions, he could tell something wasn't right. But I was stubborn. Still... he put doubts into my head that carried over to Bill. I started asking harder questions – ones that the Demon wouldn't answer. I then realized what I had done."
"Made a deal with a devil?" Dipper asked.
"More or less," Ford nodded.
"So, what then?" Dipper asked.
"I started tweaking the project," Stanford declared. "The portal was accumulations of months and months of work. Even if it was started by a monster, it would be ended by a man. That was enough justification to turn this bastardized project into a miracle. Stanley wouldn't... see it through though."
"One night," Ford explained, "After I had severed all connections with Bill since his admittance to having multiple reasons to making the portal," Ford added with a scowl, "I tested the portal once again. Stan rushed in, demanding I stop this. We... got into a very heated discussion. Argument. Fight. Whatever you want to call it."
"What happened?" Soos asked, his eyes wide.
"The gravimetric effects of the portal were... catastrophic. I was lifted into the portal, and could only see Stanley calling out to me, trying to get rope to catch me and pull me down. Then..." Stanford put a hand to his head, "I was standing in the middle of the forest."
"Huh?" Dipper and Soos exclaimed.
"My exact reaction!" Ford declared. "I was back in the woods! It was summer, but now in the daytime! So, I ran about; desperately looking for the town. If I could find a road, I could find Gravity Falls," Ford explained, running his hands through his hair, "But there weren't any. I found that lake, but not a single sign of beaches. Heck, I couldn't even find my secret stashes," Ford grumbled. "And then I found a ranger station next to a highway I didn't recognize."
"Did they say that Gravity Falls never existed?" Dipper asked rapidly.
"Yes!" Ford leaned closer, "Which is preposterous! If course it exists! This just must be another conspiracy, like the assassination of JFK, or Oreo cookie fillings."
"What about that last thing?" Soos asked.
"Oreo cookie filling. It's actually a paste made by fusing together sugar, wheat, and ground up pixie eggs," Stanford explained. Soos gagged. Ford snickered. "I'm kidding. It's actually just highly addictive substances they put into them so that people keep buying them."
"But you know about Gravity Falls still," Dipper pointed out, "Even though no one else does!"
"Well, not to break it to you, kid," Ford sighed, "The town was pretty small to begin with. No one knowing about Gravity Falls isn't much of a stretch of the-"
"No!" Dipper snapped, "People who should know about it don't! It's not on the internet, or on phones, or anything anymore!" Dipper explained.
"The internet?" Ford hummed. "I wasn't aware the government had a connection to Gravity Falls."
"Huh?" Dipper asked.
"Well, only the government has the Internet," Ford pointed out.
"Oh, oh no," Soos shook his head, "He knows so much, yet so little."
"But regarding to my story, as far as I'm concerned, Dimensional travel is dangerous as it is unpredictable. I'm officially calling it a failure!" he declared, "And I'm moving onto trans-chrono technology." He reached into his jacket, and found nothing. "Oh. Right. Shoot. Uh," he extended his six-fingered hand, "Could I have that journal back? I need to make a note."
"Look," Dipper slowly said, keeping the book at his side, "Even if I did believe you, which I'm on the wall about," Dipper admitted, "There's no evidence to support you."
"Aside from the fact that he looks super younger," Soos added.
"Shh!" Dipper snarled. "I'm trying to negotiate here!"
"Sorry," Soos apologized quickly.
"Hah!" Ford barked, "That's just my brother talking through you."
"Your brother!?" Dipper snapped.
"It'd be like him to try wriggling out more out of someone," Ford said. "He's good at that. Got a good salesman approach."
"How about it's me not trusting anyone else who's made deals with Bill Cipher?" Dipper argued, "Or trusting someone who's able to find us, across the United States, in a random state? Or getting to an island without any boat?!"
"Oh, I had a boat," Ford shrugged.
"You – wait," Dipper clenched his eyes, "you have a boat?"
"Had," Ford reminded him with a sad look, "Got close enough to the island for the dead to begin rising up. They, uh, are the current captain. Had to get to shore quickly."
"But you boat is still there!?" Dipper asked.
"If you want to ask the zombies for the boat back, by my guest," Ford remarked with a roll of his eyes, "I'm sure they'll be more polite about giving it back than they were while taking it."
"No need to be rude," Dipper quietly said.
"Look, if you really want," Ford pointed to his journal, in Dipper's hand, "Just open that and find the 'surface truth' spell. It's a wonderful little trick that only works when you cast it as someone is saying something, but if they lie at all, they are compelled to correct themselves for the next minute."
"Wait, what?!" Dipper gasped, and flipped through the book.
"Oh, wait, that's number three. That one was in number two. I think I wrote it in my invisible ink, come to think of it," Ford scratched his chin. The closed doors then banged and bulged. Dipper and Soos turned as Ford jolted upright. "Although we may want to wait. These zombies aren't keen on waiting for people to finish what they're doing before they bite at you."
"Dude, Dipper," Soos said, "Should we, I dunno dude, just trust him for now?"
"What?!" Dipper snapped. "This is Ford! He backstabbed us before."
"What exactly does that mean!?" Ford called, "I'm now entitled to some answers!" he shouted, and lifted up the picture again, showing the gang, Stanley, Zander, Yuki, and Arline in the woods together, "I mean, who are these people? Especially the cutie sitting on the log? Does she like Strongholds and Serpents?" he asked, giving the picture a warm look, presumably at Arline.
Dipper stared at the middle-aged man with a dead look in his eyes. The doors banged again, and he spun around. This wasn't a time for gauging the integrity of anyone, but action. He steadied his stance, remembering his sister's training, and spoke quietly.
"Soos, get ready. We're going to have to probably knock our way out of this one," he said.
"Right there with you, pterodactyl bro," Soos said. He then reached over, ripped off a lid to a coffin, and held it out as a shield.
"Listen Stanford," Dipper called over his shoulder, "We're getting out of here, and getting to that mansion. Stick close to us, but if you try anything, my sister taught me how to kick and punch in the right spots to knock someone to the ground in a second. Don't try me."
"Aha, right," Ford nodded slowly. "I'm sure you're quite talented. Just a reminder though," he then pointed to the door and hissed, "Those are undead! They don't feel pain!"
"Not a problem," Dipper sighed, and he rushed forward.
The door was knocked aside as Dipper stood up and kicked it out. The zombies, unprepared for the sudden attack, collapsed back and slid down the wet mud of the hill. Two more zombies were behind them, lumbering towards them. Soos made short work of them, and with one swing of the top of his 'shield', the two other zombies went flying off the side of the hill.
"Let's go!" Dipper shouted, ushering for Stanford to follow. The middle-aged man rushed out, adjusting his glasses as Dipper spun and kicked out at yet another undead zombie, knocking it again down.
"Wow!" Ford gasped as Dipper turned immediately after his kick and starting running with Soos. "And all you did against me was hit me with a book. Consider me thankful," Ford stated as they rushed up the hill.
"Consider yourself lucky!" Dipper shouted over his shoulder as Soos rammed another ghoul with the top of the coffin. "I didn't know who you were, or else I would have!"
Ford gasped, and stepped over one of the fallen zombies. "We're going to need to talk about this past we share that I'm not familiar with," he declared.
"Later!" Dipper said as they climbed up the stairs. Finding a loose planter on a handrail ending, Dipper lifted up the potter and threw it ahead, where it collided with another zombie and shattered, knocking the undead to the floor.
"Later?!" Ford repeated. "We have plenty of time to talk now!"
"What?! I'm fighting off hordes of undead with Soos, and you want to talk!?" Dipper snapped. Soos spun around and clobbered another zombie over the head with the shield, with bent and snapped at certain sections of the old wood.
"Well, I mean, you're only running for your life," Stanford shrugged, climbing the stairs to meet Dipper, "Plenty of time for a chat. And besides," he added as Dipper spun and jumped up while kicking away another ghoulish creature, "You make it look easy."
Dipper rounded on the timidly smiling man. "My sister is being kidnapped by those ghosts, and you want to hear more, when I still have questions for you!?"
"Your sister?" Ford gasped. "That's right! You did have someone of similar appearance within the picture," he said, pulling out the picture and examining it for himself. "Remarkable how much the two of you look like your grand-uncle and myself."
"In here dudes!" Soos pointed, tossing aside the snapped coffin lid. As he did, it smashed into pieces against a trio of undead, leaving them collapsed on the ground. Dipper grabbed Ford, who gasped as he was tugged inside. Soos was last in, and slammed the door shut behind him, and began to block the exit with nearby coat racks.
"Look," Dipper growled, "I don't care about your questions, got it? You somehow tracked us down this entire way, and that means you know even more than you're letting on-"
"Or I literally asked a bunch of people who had been nearby incitements if they had seen these people," Stanford held up the picture, "And they usually told me where you went. Just following a breadcrumb trail of paranormal activities and weirdness."
"Uh," Soos blurted out, turning away from the door, looking past the two, "Maybe we could not argue here?" he pointed out.
"Whatever!" Dipper snapped again. "I think we deserve some-"
Ford also pointed past Dipper, looking down the hallway. Dipper whipped around, and gasped.
Three well-dressed, blue, and transparent servants of the manor stood some feet away, listening intently and looking... nervous.
"...answers," Dipper ended with a gulp.
"Sorry," one lady with a curt, button like nose stated, adjusting her frizzy dark hair in her bonnet, "We'll be out of your way."
"Wait!" Dipper said, "You can't tell anyone you've seen us!"
"We ain't interested in gettin' involved," a tall, skinny man with pale skin assured them, his eyes wide.
"Cletus, let's leave them be," the third said, a man of bald head and pudgy face, roughly the same size as Soos.
"Wait!" Ford stepped past Dipper as the ghosts turned and started floating away. "Wait right there, please," Ford insisted.
"Ford, wait!" Dipper reached out to stop the man, but Ford pulled himself away from him. The three ghosts stopped, and turned, watching the man approach them.
"There are dead who stalk the land outside," Ford began, "And yet there are ghosts inside?!" he gasped, "Astounding! How many more ghosts are inside this mansion? Are you three the only ones haunting this area?"
"Nearly nine hundred and ninety-six," the one with a squat face stated.
Ford eyes darkened. "You're joking." The three shook their heads simultaneously. "That's a number that shouldn't be possible. Such a concentrated paranormal presence–" he snapped his fingers, "Ah! A curse! Am I right?" The three nodded. Ford chuckled, and adjusted his coat, "Still got it," he smirked.
Dipper shoved past him and made to the ghosts. "Can you tell us where they took Mabel? She looks like-"
"Him, only girly-er," Soos explained. Dipper shot a terrible glare at Soos, who wilted in the look. The three before him nodded however, and Dipper jumped to them.
"Where!?"
"In the dance room. The master was going to do a celebration there," the pudgy man stated.
"With Mabel? Why?" Dipper asked.
"We don't know," the lady shrugged. "We're just servants. Bringing up food and drink, and keeping the place clean is all we have ever done. Our master's business is not always ours."
"Still," Ford approached, "Surely you know more than you're letting on. I mean, I can't say how long you've been in your state, but I can imagine that if you've been locked here with almost a thousand total ghosts and other spectral entities, you've grown tired of being... a ghost?" Ford suggested.
The taller of the three, with messy, straight blonde hair and crooked teeth nodded. "It's been real sad 'round here many a day," he slumped slightly.
"You know," Ford said with a warmth of someone trying to comfort, "If you could tell us the story of what is going on around here, maybe we could, uh, help you move on?" Ford suggested.
"They don't need to," Dipper grumbled, pulling Ford aside, "We know the backstory to this all."
"What? You do?" the man asked of the teen.
"Yeah," Dipper waved away the ghosts, "Don't tell anyone that we're here!" he warned. The three ghosts floated away, looking back at Dipper, Soos, and Ford the entire time.
Once they were gone, Ford grumbled. "Even if you knew exactly what was going on, they could have given us more insight, young man," Ford explained.
"We have all the insight we need now, in this," Dipper held up the journal he collected.
Ford's eyes lit up. "Literature? Perfect!" he declared.
"It's a journal," Dipper explained, flipping it open, "To the master of the estate."
"Master Gravy," Soos added.
"Gracey," Dipper corrected.
Soos mumbled, "Slightly less cool."
Turning from Soos as he looked over their shoulder, Dipper pointed out the passages. "He talks about how he's buried all the previous husbands of his daughter. Each of them was buried somewhere in this mansion, or the grounds. Never was specific, but since they all moved in with him," Dipper explained, flipping through the pages, "I'd imagine their corpses are somewhere around here."
"Ugh. Say bodies, Dipper," Soos explained, "more politically correct."
"What?" Dipper gasped. "Who am I insulting? The dead?" The three stood in silence for a moment. Adjusting his stance, Dipper corrected himself to say, "Okay, maybe bodies instead of corpses."
Ford nodded, "Yeah, not a bad thought, actually."
"See? Sounds good," Soos said firmly.
"Well, if the 'bodies'," Ford quoted, "Are in here, and they have some sort of tie to the mansion– or–" Dipper opened his mouth, but Ford held his hand out, "If this Gracey fellow is really the key to it all, the most important thing to do is locate the source of magic binding this all together and un-tethering it."
"I'm fairly certain that this is a curse," Dipper stated.
"Curses and Magic are among the same parallels of arcane energy," Ford explained, "Like calling light and the shadows they cast unrelated. You can't have one without the other."
Dipper blinked, trying to register some of the information he had just been imparted. That would be going into his notes later. After a moment, he shook his head. He glanced back to the journal and spoke up. "The only other magical source of 'magic' that Edward Gracey has mentioned was a local fortune teller that Constance used as a council frequently. She vanished just before the journal ends, here," Dipper said, pointing to the last entry.
Leaning to the page, Ford asked, "Interesting. Has the person come up while you've been here?"
"Didn't really even know about a fortune teller," Soos shrugged, "But boy, would I have loved to ask her a thing or two."
Beginning to pace back and forth, Ford said, "We can assume that all ghosts present, and possible all supernatural activities on this island. Perhaps it's just best to use the information we have as is. Thinking in relation to the previous statements to this Gracey, and your actions before, all these supernatural events are connected."
"We think so," Dipper strongly said, "Kind of got that confirmation from the ghosts earlier."
"Ah, excellent," Ford smirked. "This means that whatever connection that ties them together is a universal one. Which establishes the next line of action-"
"To remove that tie," Dipper reasoned aloud.
"Exactly," Ford nodded, "If we can remove the tie by means of exorcism, the rest of the ghosts could move on willingly, and no longer cause the haunting-"
"Cancelling out the over-all magical effects or cursed-based activates of the island," Dipper added.
"Yes! Yes!" Ford declared, "You're... wow," he gasped, looking to Dipper, "You sound as if you've dealt with ghosts before." Dipper clenched his jaw, but felt the smallest flutter of appreciation from the astounded and pleased look from Ford. There was too much of a burning in Dipper's heart to smile at the man, even though hearing such excitement gave him life.
"Still," the scientist continued, "There's matter of resistance. The ghosts will not wish to be released – else they would have gone already."
With an excited jump, Soos suggested, "I could distract them with my version of Mary had a little Lamb, Julio had a little Donkey. But that's only the PG version of the title. It's actually called Julio had a little A-"
"Anyway," Dipper scolded Soos, and looked back to Ford, "We would need some form of defense."
"Silver mirrors?" Ford suggested.
Dipper shook his head. "None of the ghosts, to my knowledge, emerged from paintings," Dipper said, "and I don't just carry pure silver mirrors."
"Drat," Ford grumbled, "Maybe anointed water?"
"The daughter of the master of this estate was powerful enough to evaporate the water," Dipper admitted.
With a hand clapping the side of his head, Ford exclaimed, "That's no joke! Level ten at minimum is what we're up against!" Ford turned, looking to the barricaded door. "This kind of battle will be fruitless if we can't get more sophisticated material. Maybe going back for my boat would-"
"Stanford," Dipper turned to him, square in the face, "You want answers, right?" Ford stared back at him, and slowly nodded. "You help us through with this, and I'll give you your answers."
"That's a deal I can abide by," Ford said, and extended his hand. Dipper glared out at it, but with a resolute grip, shook the hand. After the deal-making handshake, Ford proclaimed, "So, if we were to go without the standard materials to battle incorporeal undead, we'd just need an exorcism."
"Exactly," Dipper nodded, "And exorcism can remove the ghost from the bindings in this plane, and remove any ties to the other ghosts."
Soos nodded confidently, "And that's good."
Ford hummed in thought. "So, how do we do that? There'd be nearly a thousand other ghosts ready to stop us before we could do it," Ford grumbled, "If each of us started a verse, and they couldn't decide which of us to target, that leaves us with just under three hundred and thirty ghosts each," Ford explained.
"Which is just a little too much for me to handle solo," Soos admitted, "Maybe I could handle... five."
Dipper scratched his chin. Looking at Soos, Dipper thought of something the manchild had wielded a moment before. "Then what we need–" Dipper started.
"Is a barrier!" Ford clicked his fingers.
"Right!" Dipper nodded.
The two stared at each other, a light in their eyes. Dipper watched the man carefully. It was odd to see someone who... who he had remembered being darkly to him. The old ford would never have bounced ideas such as this before. Now they were standing in the middle of a haunted mansion, throwing around ways to stop ghosts and protect one another?
Still, this was Ford. It could be an elaborate trick waiting to be sprung. Dipper let his gaze fall, and he stiffened up. "I'll cast the exorcism, and Ford, you'll hold up a barrier."
"Uh, sure thing kid," the man nodded.
"My name is Dipper," Dipper growled.
"Dipper?" Ford asked, his head tilting to the side.
"Yes, it's Dipper," Dipper repeated through his teeth. Ford stared at him, and slowly smiled. "What?!" Dipper snapped.
"N-Nothing," Ford said, holding his hands up, "I just, uh, I like it. It's weird. I like weird."
Dipper fought with every inch of his being to not blush at being told by the Author of the three journals that he liked his name. Instead, he scowled and turned away. "You remember how to cast an anti-magic spell?"
Ford smirked. "Effective as ten feet around me? Eh, shouldn't be that hard," Ford shrugged.
"Good. I got the exorcism down," Dipper cracked his neck by tilting his head side to side.
Catching up to Dipper, Soos asked, "And, uh, what should I do?"
"Uh... keep an eye out," Dipper suggested.
"Yes, after all, ghosts are crafty creatures," Ford said, patting Soos' shoulder, "Having a third pair of eyes will be quite useful while we're dealing with the lynchpin."
"Let's go, guys," Dipper demanded as he marched forward.
Following behind Dipper, Soos and Ford exchanged only the smallest of glances. There was a steadfast determination in their step, one shared by all three of them. They had a goal, and plan to attend that goal. Dipper saw with each flickering light the possibility of finding Mabel and Wendy grow sooner and more potent. Once they got rid of the ghosts, and the problem right in front of them, they would be able to get off the island and deal with Ford, one way or another.
Turning down a hallway, Dipper stalled in his steps, his eyes wide. As Soos and Ford turned the hallway, they too stopped. There were dozens of busy servants around the main hallway, but there was a figure among them that did not belong.
"Now, if I recall," For mumbled, pulling out the picture in his jacket and holding out before him. As he lowered it, he matched the smiling, widely grinning brunette in the picture to the similar looking girl down the hallway, "Ah, yup, that's her."
"Mabel!" Dipper rushed forward.
"Hello!" She cheerfully cried out, waving at them, adjusting the collar of her shirt.
"Mabes! Dude!" Soos rushed over. Not a moment after Dipper hugged her himself, Soos wrapped his arms around her, and lifted them both up. "I'm so glad you're okay!"
"Soos!" Dipper gagged, feeling the weight of Soos's mighty grip crush his vertebra, "Let go!" Dropped to the ground, Dipper looked up to his sister and smiled. "You got away?"
"I guess," she shrugged, and looked to Ford. "Uh, who're you?" she asked with a chuckle.
"Greetings!" Ford waved a curt, six-fingered hand, "Stanford Pines. I believe you know my brother, Stanley?" Ford asked.
As Mabel's eyes widened, Dipper stared at her. "You didn't recognize him?"
"He looks so different!" Mabel declared. "Younger!"
"Yes, well," Ford shrugged, "From what I understand, you all somehow ran into either an evil clone of me, a doppelganger, a shape shifter, or a version of me from an alternate dimension who was also evil. Possibly a mixture of the two," Ford admitted with a second thought.
"Well, isn't that weird," Mabel giggled. Ford grinned at her and gave her a small, appreciative, nod.
"You're okay?" Dipper asked, looking to her arms and wrists. Lines of sore, red skin burned in the light. "What did they do to you?" he saw something resting on her neck made of metal. "Did you find something?" he asked, nodding to the chain.
"Tied good ole Mabel up," Mabel sighed, holding up her wrists, "But I'm out now! Isn't that swell?" she smirked and winked. Dipper looked to her eyes, and paused. They didn't look... the same. She stared back, and her grin faltered. "Dipper?" she asked him. "What is it?"
"You, uh, feeling alright?" he asked her. "You seem a little off–"
"We don't have time to be inspecting on someone right now," Ford grumbled, "As much as her health and safety is important, the fact that we have her at all is a great improvement to the scenario! Now that we have her, they have one less bargaining chip to use against us if we attempt to exorcise them!"
"Exorcise them?" Mabel asked, her eyes wide.
"Yeah dude," Soos nodded, "Super-efficient ghost removal and stuff. I'm the third pair of eyes!" he admitted, and lifted his hands to his brow, scouting around like some estranged scout.
Sighing, Dipper looked back to Mabel, who merely smiled back at him. "Mabel, you good?" he asked her.
She shrugged. "Pooped," she admitted. "But I'm okay."
"Okay. Just stay close to me," Dipper told her, and took her hand.
With his sister now in tow, they four rushed into the dance room. Instantly, the tone of the party, which had gotten into full swing, shifted again. Ghosts dancing in intricate spirals in the air and on the ground stalled and stepped aside as the four entered. Edward Gracey, nearby the organ on a wall, floated into the air and slowly approached, a scowl on his face.
"So, the young men arrive. About time," he said, massaging his face, "Now we merely need-"
"Ford! Now!" Dipper shouted.
Ford stepped out, and with his hands at either side, he shouted into the air proudly, "Scutum Sanctus!" The nearby ghosts were propelled backwards, thrown like debris from an explosion. A sphere of light blue light had formed around them, enclosing them in their protective bubble.
"Yeah!" Soos shouted, "Take that you spooks!"
"What is this?" Gracey demanded, floating in front of them while in the direction towards Dipper.
"An anti-ghost shell," Dipper smirked.
"Impossible," Gracey extended his hand, and was met with a solid barrier. To his amazement, he found himself pushing hard, and was unable to budge the region. He bared his teeth, and pushed even hard, and energy crackled around his form, cutting into the floor.
"It prevents ghosts from passing through the barrier!" Dipper barked in laughter.
With sweating beginning to form on his brow, Ford strained back as he said, "Although that pressure the ghost is exerting is really putting a strain on the bubble, and making me struggle to concentrate keeping it active. If you could please start the ceremony," Ford remarked.
"Right," Dipper said, and stepped forward. Clearing his throat, he pointed at Gracey, who raised an eyebrow. "Time for you to leave!" Dipper demanded.
"Exilium Exanimus, Exodus Demonus, Spookus–"
"Dipper!"
Dipper blinked and looked up.
Red hair, tied to a large chain of a chandelier.
"Wendy!" Dipper shouted.
"No, Dipper, get away form her!" Wendy shouted.
A hand reached out for Dipper, and he was spun around to Mabel, who was grinning.
"No need for that kind of talk, Dipper," she said.
"Mabel, what are you doing!?" he snapped, "I'm going to exorcise him! Get us out of here!"
"No, you're not," she remarked, and he eyes flashed blue.
Dipper gasped. "SOOS!" he bellowed as his eyes grew wide in terror.
A hand struck out and smashed Dipper across his face, tossing him to the ground. From the floor, as he felt Mabel's fist imprinted against his chin, he saw Ford had barely a moment to react. Soos lunged out for Mabel, but she effortlessly ducked underneath him and then kicked up at Ford. The man fell up and backwards, landing on his back. The blue sphere faded away.
"Mabel – No, wait," he pointed, "That blue! You're not Mabel!"
"You're so right, Dipper Pines," Mabel said, now speaking in two voices at once.
As the blue in Mabel's eyes flashed, Dipper gasped. "Constance!" he shouted.
The body of Mabel did a quick bow, and then rolled backwards, avoiding Soos as he tried grabbing and pinning Mabel to the floor. "Down, Soos," she said, and kicked out at him. With his best intent, Soos held up his arm and blocked her attack. The impact was still solid, but he was not pushed around. "You're as solid as you look, Mabel's friend," she said, and then twisted in a jump, kicking again at the tall friend. Soos withstood another powerful blow, but stepped back, holding his arm in injury.
"You need to leave Mabel alone right now!" Soos shouted.
"I won't," the now alone voice of Constance, emerging from Mabel's body, spoke calmly, "She is the vessel of our salvation. With her, and her alone," the ghost possessing the body explained, "I will have my deserved happy ever after!" she roared, and leapt up, driving a punch across Soos's face.
Unprepared, Soos's chin took up all the fist, and he staggered aside, clumping to the ground, and slowly struggling to stand up. The crowds around him started to laugh.
"Stop abusing that innocent man-child!" Ford declared, and he too rushed forward. Mabel's body turned about, and easily slid underneath Ford without effort. As he stumbled around to face her, she punched once in his stomach, and as he bent over in a gasp, elbowed his back so he crumbled to the ground. "On second thought," he gasped for air, "Stop abusing me."
"You know Mabel's moves!" Dipper growled, and rushed forward.
"I can see into all Mabel's memories," Constance assured her, "Her training, her time spent with her brother and friends, and the many times she's had her heart broken. She's just as ready to find someone who loves her back as I am," Constance assured Dipper, and then lunged out with her foot.
Wendy cried out from the ceiling. "Mabel! Fight this! You wouldn't hurt your brother!"
Dipper stepped back and under the whip of the kick. This was a power Dipper had only seen, never experienced first-hand. She was really trying to nail him down with her attacks. The wind he felt dart around him with each dodge was strong as it was accurate. It was only with Dipper's attempts to use Constance's inexperience and feint his movement that allowed him to dodge. Yet he could not find a moment to retaliate. He was stuck on defensive.
Then Dipper found a moment. He stepped into a kick, lifting his own foot high up to counter. As he did, the impact skidded him to the side several inches, and his leg felt as if it had received an electrical shock, but he was fine. Now, a foot from her, he drove his fist towards her-
Until he saw her face. Her eyes were stained with tears.
Yet she was smiling.
In the smallest of pause he took, seeing his sister's pain, Dipper felt a fist strike the center of his gut, and he expelled all his air at once. His world reeled as the laughter of the ghosts rang supreme.
"Mortals! Pain! Such amusing things," Gracey shook his head. "They think they suffer as they do, being alive."
"They do suffer!" Wendy shouted, "Stop hurting them! Just because you hurt more doesn't mean their pain is any less!" She shouted from the chandeliers.
"But it is less," the wet cheeks of Mabel reflected the light of the grim candles around them. "And less won't do. You all would have banished my father forcibly?" Constance asked. "I think that means I'm done with you all. Away with you. Be banished."
She wove her hand through the air, and there was a terrible, sickening cracking. The floor beneath the three began to warp and twist. Slowly, surely, a fissure of darkness opened and the floors cracked open, spraying their guts of stone, wood, and dirt into the air. Soos clawed away from the center, closest to it, but could only scream as he then fell back, plummeting into darkness.
"No! Not again!" Ford yelled, collapsing backwards and rolling into the still growing crack in the floor. One slip of his hand, and he too slid, shouting his entire way, as he vanished into the dark.
"Mabel!" Dipper shouted, clawing his way at her.
She stood some feet away. Standing over him as a lord would stand over their helpless. Dipper pulled at sections protruding from the floor, pushing his advance closer. Finally, he stood, and lunged at her, grabbing her arms.
"You can fight this," he reminded her, "You can get out of this! Just concentrate!" he assured her. "C'mon!"
Then she grinned. Tears ran freely down her face. The face continued to smile. She took a step closer to the pit, forcing Dipper to step back with her.
"Mabel, no, wait," Dipper begged, trying to step around her, but she grasped his neck and held him out. She then stepped out onto thin air, floating above the now stable crevasse she had created. "Stop," Dipper begged through strained air.
She laughed, and let go.
Dipper was faster than she had thought. He snatched his hand up, and grabbed at the first thing he could – a chain dangling off her form. Next to his hand, as he gripped tightly, was a small key. He eyed the key, sure he had seen the color before – a tinted, faded pink.
Her hand again felt on his own.
Constance said, with the widest smile Dipper had ever seen Mabel wear, "Nothing will stop true love this day."
She then cast him down.
Wendy roared, "DIPPER!"
The chain broke from her neck, and Dipper screamed as he fell backwards, vanishing into the darkness below. The laughter of the ghosts filled his ears as he fell back, watching as the darkness slowly consumed the light, and all that was left was Mabel watching him descend.
The floor began to repair itself effortlessly. The broken off pieces re-assembled themselves. Mabel turned away, from the still repairing floor, and cheered.
"This day, we will have one, last, great celebration!" Constance roared.
The party began again.
Wendy sobbed and shook her head as the ghosts danced around her. There was no one left now. She was it. Left alone in the sea of dead who neither cared for her or Mabel, who was eagerly and carelessly used as a vessel by Constance.
Mabel's body began to twirl about the other ghosts. Not able to actually dance with them, she merely spun herself around. She was drunk in the idea of love, put off her mildest natures by the promise of an end. Her father clapped for her and cheered her on, giving her encouragement as she twirled faster and faster and faster!
The doors opened, and Mabel's body stalled as Constance came to a heaving stop, wondering who was late.
A figure stepped into the room, wearing a silver mask.
"Who is that?" Constance asked to her father, who landed next to her, his eyes squinting as he analyzed the newcomer.
"I do not know," he admitted.
Wearing black cloak, darker wear, and a strange, but beautiful shimmering scarf, the man lifted a black, gloved hand to the mask, and lowered it. Constance sighed and felt the heart rate of her possessed body naturally increase. The blond man before her was beautiful and handsome, and looked around with a pleasant smile.
"I hope I'm not too late," Zander Maximillion said as he smiled to Mabel and stepped into the room.
Oh Zander, you idiot. Or do you think you're being clever?
So. Uh. About these past three weeks.
My motherboard died. I totally blame Ford for it, because like three days after posting, I was talking about how I'm never going to finish this story with all these breaks, and I only just got to Stanford. At that point, my computer started acting weird, and my motherboard hit the pooper.
Since then, I've had no steady computer. And I could have written things on other stuff (I have a library close by) but the NOTES on this computer were locked away until this past week. UGH. So, note to self- use a drop box. Now this won't ever happen again.
And you all got Stanford. More Stanford.
And Zander!
And random zombie #2! Wasn't he cool?
(Random Zombie #2 swipes at EZB, and knocks off his head with one fell swoop. I guess that's what he deserves for not having better foresight. Idiot)