When a battered, window-cracked, tires-nearly-empty-looking bus pulled into a parking lot off in Chicago's Near West Side in the mid-morning, a few people admittedly turned their heads. It wasn't unusual for a metropolis region to suffer the lack of fundings to repair public transport. It was, however, unusual when said bus was not that belonging to the public transportation system; nor was it part of any school system. It was also unusual when the recipients looked as roughed up as their bus.
With a loud squeal, the bus came to a stop. The driver and riders within jolted as the breaks applied, and the vehicle finally stopped. A young man, with a guitar case strapped over his shoulders stood up, rushed to the exit. The doors swiftly opened before him. "Finally," he mumbled, passing by several other members of the Paths.
The driver, a tall woman with jet black hair, opened the door from her driver spot, allowing the scrawny boy to step out. He began pacing in circles in the empty parking lot belonging, to what seemed as, some sport center. More riders of the bus stepped out as well, their cuts and bruises across their face evident of some trauma. There was a shorter woman with red hair, who looked more tired than injured, save for a cut across her cheek. Coming up closely behind her was a man of paler complexion, who had several visible bruises on his shaven head. Next was a man with recently shaven hair, and much darker skin. His wounds were plentiful, but he carried himself well, despite them. Last to leave the bus was the driver, a very tall woman who, up until recently, had very long black hair. Now she had shoulder-length hair.
"That drive was awful," the black-haired kid moaned as he adjusted the wear of his worn looking trench coat. Turning to the first member he found, he added, "We really should get, I don't know, a rest? I'd take a vacation if I could."
The shaved bald man wearing a simple button up shirt and jeans replied quickly, "What, was traveling through four states too short a rest for you?" he asked with his wide, trademark smirk.
"It would have been if we were in a nicer ride!" the kid snapped.
"Calm down," a woman with short red hair told him, patting his shoulder as she passed, "We're all tired. Darren is just teasing."
"Which is why we need to reserve our energy," Nadan, carefully assessing his wounds, said aloud, "I am certain you're tired, Drew. But unless there is an immediate solution to that problem, we must act to conserve our emotions, not act upon them."
The teenager, Drew, sighed and nodded, stretching his neck.
The driver, an imposingly tall woman named Rin craned her neck. She cracked her neck side to side, echoing throughout the air like a firecracker. Those who had stepped outside stared at the macabre display. Stretching her knuckles in similar fashion, she finally noticed the attention. "Uh..." she said, her words quiet and deep, "Sorry," she said, and reached to play with her once long hair. She found half of her remaining bands of hair, and sighed. "Stupid fight," she said, and leaned against the side of the bus.
"Are you okay?" the woman with short red hair, Maureen, asked. Rin nodded but said nothing else. Maureen, the redhead, told her, "Sorry about your hair. We can get it all gussied up later?"
Rin shrugged. "Thank you," she simply said.
Rushtar, turning away from Drew the grumpy, looked to the once-long-haired woman. With a shrug, he said, "Besides, you'd probably look great bald."
With a quick-grown fury, the short redhead spun about, and snapped at him, "Really?"
"What?" he said, glaring at her, "Is there something wrong with being bald?"
"Calm down," Nadan said, approaching the two, giving each a stern look. "We are to take this moment to stretch our legs, or until the Gaurdsman is ready with our next instructions," he said.
Rushtar nodded, turning away and sighing. Maureen turned to Nadan, worry in her eyes. "I'm not sure what else we can do," she said, "It's one thing to fight some cultists with knives and clubs, or to ambush mercenaries. You know, the ones before – they'd run," she added, "When it was clear we had the upper hand. Now they don't care how many teeth they've lost. They just keep trying."
"These new cultists do not seem to care about personal safety," Nadan admitted with a worrying look to the sky. "It's problematic. Dire."
"You're not kidding!" Drew called, marching over, "There was, like, a hundred last time! And each one of them wanted a piece of us!"
"There was no more than forty," Nadan reminded him with a bored look, "But numbers aside, their clearly fanatical devotion is wearing us down. Or, I should say, their devotion is letting them stand up to our efforts more so than before."
"And it was just one attempt," Maureen added, playing with her light jacket, "Just one small attempt to divert this guys forces. And he still went and took the fight to the Gravity Falls survivors."
Stepping out from the bus and catching the attention of all the present, remaining, members of the paths, was the cloaked image of the Guardsman of the Paths. His mask of silver stared out, impossible to read. After a moment of being watched, he reached inside the cloak and withdrew a cell phone. "I'll be back," he said, and walked away, flipping it open.
Watching the Gaurdsman walk around the bus, Drew huffed. "Would it kill him to include us into his conversations?"
Pocketing his hands, Darren 'Rushtar' sighed, and said, "That's sort of who he is – a secret agent to everyone."
"But we're involved in all this," Drew said, moving up to Nadan and Maureen, "And we should know what we're about to get involved into."
"We already know what," Nadan replied quickly, "We're a band of vigilante martial artists fighting against a notorious supernatural terrorist organization. Simple," he said with a tiny smirk.
"It sounds cool," Marueen added with a smile.
Drew chuckled. "It, yeah, does sound cool."
Calling out in her level, dead tone, Rin, the tall, dark-haired woman, announced, "Listen – the death count at Niagara is now seventeen, including the explorer."
From those listening, the smiles faded quickly. From their wounds, most small enough to be considered scratches and bruises, the gang felt the weight of their actions. Whatever they could accomplish was dire, and whatever they could not... was fatal. If they failed at tasks, it meant people may die. As they now understood, people were already dying.
The last mission that they had undergone had gone smoothly. They distracted and drew the attention of the Warlocks forces. As expected, the cultists were loud, brash, and mostly untrained. But when the strategy of hiding in buildings and forcing the enemy out of their cars came, everything went downhill. The cultists just crashed through walls, exploded gasoline canisters, set entire blocks on fire to flush them out. The Paths hadn't killed a single person by their own actions, but with the consequences of the fight, several lives had been taken in Mississippi.
Drew fidgeted with the strap of his guitar case. "He's a monster," he said, "A real monster."
"Could use some super heroes right about now," Maureen said with a sad chuckle.
Nadan turned to her, and with a tired smile, said, "I heard that France just got their first real-life superheroes." Maureen and Drew both stared at him. He added, "Happened less than two weeks ago. Paris is being affected by the surge of magic severely. A giant creature made of stone just started rampaging around the streets."
"But that's one thing," Drew whined, "The warlock and his freakin' cultists are trying to hurt people! That thing is just probably running amok. There's a difference."
"That's right," a darkly voice spoke from around the bus. The five turned. The Guardsman approached. He said, in a dark, deep voice that rivaled Rin's, "A true monster isn't determined by your birth, but by your actions; your choices."
Nadan nodded, and spoke for the group. "What news?" he asked.
The Guardsman looked about the five, and then explained, "Aside from the news abroad, the reporters on air weren't wrong. Graupner Kinley isn't just a mass-murderer, he's the first ever modern magical one. During the latest encounter he had with the Gravity Falls survivors, he used fire to burn alive more than a dozen officers."
"And the government?" Rushtar asked, leaning in, "What's their word in this?"
"Mobilization," the Guardsman stated easily. "The National Guard and Coast Guard are on high alert. I wouldn't be surprised if they take a stance the next encounter with the Warlock."
Drew took a deep breath and sighed. The other four tensed at the news. "Great," Drew gently cheered, aware of the silence from the news, "That means less for us to deal with, right?"
The Guardsman shook his head. "No."
"W-what?" Drew stumbled for words. "Why?"
His hands held out, wide and operatically, the Guardsman explained, "They'll anticipate fire. They've seen him use it. They'll even anticipate fatalistic fanaticism from his cultists. They will, I'm sure, even come to realize who he's chasing, based on contacts within cities the Warlock made moves upon. Philadelphia only a few days ago, and now Niagara. But..." he turned his masked head, looking to the distant downtown city, miles away, "They have no means to stop him. Nothing they have stops a wraith. He will walk through all their offensive capabilities and send their soldiers, their officers, their equipment into ruin. They'll all burn."
"Man," Rushtar whispered, his gaze falling slightly, "And to think that fire is one of our ways," he added.
"His flame is magic," the Guardsman reminded him, lifting his palm out, "Remember: we only use it. Those with the skill to materialize flame through their body's energy still make natural flame."
"That's right," Maureen nodded, "The Warlock is using this Blackfire stuff."
"Not last time," The Guardsman said. "The reports said fire, but when I saw some pictures taken from the incident, that was no blackfire. That was... well..." the Guardsman looked towards the distant downtown, "Something new."
"As in... something new for the Warlock?" Drew asked.
The Guardsman spoke as he looked at the city. "No. I've never seen fire like that. Green." He finally turned, "But not only that," he said as he approached the listening group again, "The report showed him approaching a cultist that Mabel Pines had knocked unconscious, which I confirmed the story from her while we drove. Yet all he had to do was speak a word and the woman stood."
Morbidly curious, Nadan asked, "What kind of power is that?"
"One that wasn't frequently taught," The Guardsman quietly said, his head tilting in a lowered glare. "I've known a few in my time who could use that power, to various effect. If the Warlock is able to learn that high level of magic as quickly as he has, then we need to act even faster."
"Wh-what?" Drew gasped, "But how is this... this punk getting so strong?!"
Stepping closer to the young man, the Guardsman told them all, "He's taking advantage of the new terrain. The world is filling with magic that was drained from the world long ago. When I still combated Omir Steindorf, his learning process was stalled greatly from the Great Siphon," he explained, "What would have taken a year to learn took him five. But that's changing. It'll only get faster and faster. Remember," He held up a finger, "This isn't just the world regaining the magic that was lost over four hundred years ago."
Rin spoke up from the bus, "It's all the magic that would have been growing along with time since then."
The Guardsman gave the woman a curt nod. Looking to the group at large, the man spoke again. "This isn't just about stopping the world from going mad with magic. It's about stopping people like him. The Warlock is just the first of many. The future is no longer certain. People, soldiers, families; all of them could be next. Graupner Kinley, the Warlock, will likely not stop now. If we have the option to stop him or slow him down, then it is our responsibility to act as such." He stood tall, his form creating a large shadow as he spoke. "If it means I die to save this world... then I take that chance."
His words rang true throughout those still standing around him. The remaining members of the paths, the four adults and the teenager stared at their leader. Dark and mysterious as he was, his decision rang loudly. With a heavy, sigh, the teenager stepped past them, catching their eyes as he climbed back onto the bus.
When they did not follow, he turned. What was a clear, unspoken message, suddenly faltered. Drew, now fidgeting with his fingernails, asked, "So, uh, where to next?"
There was the smallest of chuckles from the Guardsman. "The Gold Meridian. It's a hotel by River North. We're meeting important people there," he said, and turned to the rest of the group, "Saddle up."
In a tall, city-line view of a prestigious hotel known as the Golden Meridian, a reporter spoke through a television.
"-with no further developments regarding the strange phenomena that is leaving linguists broken across the globe, we turn to more domestic troubles. Even with the governors statement earlier this morning, many are still feeling unsafe since the massacre at Niagara. According to the records of Channel eleven news, the terrorist group now known as the Rising Grasp had appeared entirely undetected and vanished rapidly after a fire-fight erupted last night at the Niagara observation tower, destroying much of the structure and killing more than a dozen people. This unprecedented movement from these extremists has the national guard ready, taking to scanning highways and beginning patrols across the United States: one of the most prominent mobilizations in the country's history."
Another reporter spoke from the TV, addressing the beautiful and modern decorated room. "Do the Rising Grasp have any statements?"
"So far there have been no statements," the prior reported explained, "Official, or otherwise, about the intent or goals of the Rising Grasp. Regarding their actions, the pentagon is preparing a crisis meeting this afternoon to address the concerns of national safety against such a seemingly mobile group of active terrorists."
Within the room, someone loudly declared, "I think that's enough of that." A man with six fingers strolled by the television, squatting in front of it, and reaching around the device. "Where is the darn button to this thing?" Ford growled, the glare of the electronic device flashing in his glasses. "Is there a button to this thing?!"
"On the side," a hallow voice belonging to certain redhead said as she passed him, walking towards the large windows overlooking a city.
"What?" Stanford Pines looked around the side, and rolled his eyes, "Why would you move a button to a location you can't even see it? The whole point is to know where to find it!" he sighed, and pressed the button, turning off the commentary. Standing up, he faced the room.
For the gang, it was a first. Since leaving Gravity Falls, the group had come to adjust themselves to the ever-changing flavors of awful motel rooms. Yet, after a long drive around the great lakes, and a few suggestions from Ford, the gang came to the glorious and expensive suites of the Gold Meridian. It was beautifully decorated with lavish decoration and amenities that make even the rich blush. Then again, it didn't matter with a credit card that seemed to have no limit to the price.
Aside from the TV, which Ford had said aloud to the quiet room would be a good chance to break the silence, the room was... well, silent. It was a large lounge like room, with several doors leading to bathrooms or separate bedrooms. Ford walked back to a large U-shaped couch before the television, where Soos nervously picked at the spine of several provided magazines. Wendy now stood at the tall, wide wall of windows with golden curtains on either side, her arms crossed tightly. Dipper was on the other side of the couch, leaning off its back support and watching his sister. Mabel was by the kitchen, holding an empty glass. With small, slow movements, she poured herself enough glass of orange juice, and chugged it. Next to her was a small wooden box and a worn looking key.
"Well," Ford stood and looked around, "At least we won't have to worry about Graupner thinking we're here!" he declared forcing a smile to his face.
Reception to his words were anything but warm. Soos looked to him, and gave his best attempt at a grin. Dipper looked over his shoulder and nodded. Wendy and Mabel never even looked back to him. Ford's own grin faltered, and he walked towards the kitchen.
"Maybe someone wants some food?" he asked, looking around, "I'm no chef, but I think I could whip up an omelet pretty good."
"No thanks," Wendy grumbled.
"Ah, well how about you two?" Ford turned to the twins. Dipper made to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was a throaty gurgle. "Mabel?" Ford asked. Mabel slammed her head into the counter she sat at. "Great," Ford mumbled, "Soos?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah dawg, I'll take some food," he said, waving from the couch.
"Ah! Excellent. I'll get it cooking-" he said, turning to the refrigerator and opening it, "-When we have... eggs. There are no eggs in here."
"Oh," Soos sighed, and fell into the couch.
"Sorry, I would have thought they'd store eggs here, considering we're in a nice... place..." Ford closed the door and ran a hand through his hair slowly. Turning back to the group, he groaned. "Everyone, please – don't lose hope."
"Huh?" Dipper asked, looking up again from his lean against the couch.
"I know it hasn't been the best couple of days," he said firmly, looking from one to another, "But we can't afford to let ourselves feel this way."
Her face sealed onto the countertop, Mabel groaned, "I dunno, feels pretty right to feel this awful." Ford frowned, but said nothing to her. She looked back up, and looked to her brother. "This is really cruddy."
"Which part?" Dipper asked, "The part where we endangered a bunch of people at the campus, or the part where we endangered and got Montana killed, or the part where we had more than a dozen people involved with our trouble die?"
Wendy spoke up from the window. "I vote 'all the above'."
"Yes, Mabel the fool agrees," Mabel said as she slid off the stool from the counter, and walked over to the couch, slumping onto the couch pillow. "Sweaterville has never called me louder," Mabel said, as she slid her arms into her sleeves, and popped her head back under the fabric.
"That won't be too helpful to you," Ford told them as he stepped closer to the group.
"Does it matter?" Dipper asked, watching his sister for a moment before slumping again. "This sucks."
"Yes, it does suck," Ford nodded, and approached him. "None of this is any good. I don't want you to think like I'm trying to convince you otherwise."
"Then what are you saying, Ford?" Wendy said, turning away from the view.
Looking to the four younger people of the room, he put his hands into his pockets. "That we can't let this feeling take you down."
"Why not?" Dipper grumbled.
"Because our job isn't done," Ford replied quickly, stepping around to take a seat in one of the corners of the U-shaped couch. "And also as importantly, letting yourself feel this bad won't help."
"I'm not trying to feel this way, dawg," Soos said with heavy words, "I'm just am, you know?"
"I do know," Ford nodded.
"Do you?" Dipper asked pointedly. Ford looked to Dipper, blinking. Giving the recently returned man a heated glare, Dipper repeated, "Do you actually know?"
"What you're feeling exactly?" Ford asked. When his words were met with more silence, he shrugged. "No, I suppose not. That doesn't mean I can't-"
"Why do you think then you can just tell us not to feel this way?" Dipper quietly said, a warning growing in his tone. Wendy looked to him, and Mabel poked her face through the neck hole of her sweater.
Dipper continued. "From what I remember of the first time I met you, regardless of who you are now," Dipper added hastily, "You just look for the result. The world could have ended three years ago, and it was all your fault then!"
"And that wasn't me," Ford rolled his eyes, "As I've explained countless times!"
"Yeah?" Dipper snapped, "Well Grunkle Ford told us that was typical you!" he added, and Ford flinched. "Always caring about the result of the test, or the experiment, working to learn more, regardless of the consequences!"
Age or experience be damned, the scientist was shaken. "He said- I- That's cold!" Ford snapped. "I do care about more than just the result!"
"You're really not proving that now!" Dipper yelled, standing up and facing the older man. "Was 'we still have a job to do' what you said?"
"By attempting to remind you four that you shouldn't put yourselves down, I'm being too, what, exactly?!" Ford shouted back.
"Maybe let's not fight," Wendy started to step towards them.
"No, please," Ford held out a hand to Wendy, "If anyone else thinks I'm forcing you all to feel a certain way that isn't helpful, let me know." He asked her. Wendy stared at him. Ford then looked to Mabel and Soos. "Either of you two?" he snapped. Mabel pulled the sweater over her face, and Soos pulled the cap down. Ford turned back to a red-cheeked Dipper. Ford, his voice growing still, shouted, "Dipper, face it, you just don't trust me!"
"For good reason!" Dipper yelled, and yanked out the third journal. "Trust no one?!" Dipper shouted at the researcher, who stared at the book, "And, of all things, when we finally met you, the person who I ended up trusting the most, was the most dangerous one of us all!"
"I-" Ford sighed, and closed his eyes, "I honestly have... no idea what you're talking about. You keep holding this event over my head like I was the version of that person who did it!" He said, and then sat down. "I don't know what happened. I remember the test with the portal after Fiddleford left, and I remember the fight with Stan. After that, I was just standing in the woods, with no Gravity Falls to even think of."
Before Dipper could jump at him, Ford continued, "Your tales about an older me, and the journal you have?" he said pointing to the held aside Journal in Dippers hand, "They're tales from someone who I'm not anymore. Whoever I was, to you, I'm not. I can't keep telling you this," he added, and rolled his eyes, "And this is exactly why you can't let your emotions get the better of you!"
"Why?" Dipper sneered, "So that we can't yell at you to tell the truth and-"
Out of the couch, a previously timid girl screamed, "STOP IT!" Mabel shot up form her seat. Her face was red, her nose wrinkled in an intensive fury. It was like steam rose off her, and both Pines took a step back. Soos nodded, giving her an inspective look.
"A nice interjection," he said with appreciation, "Solid nine outta ten."
"Thanks," she snapped, and spun to her brother, "You!" she said, pointing to him.
"What?" he barked, holding his hands up before him.
"You have my permission to be sad!" Mabel roared, "But not whatever-you-two were feeling!"
Ford poked his head around Mabel. "I do not give you my permission, just so that we're-"
"SILENCE!" Mabel yelled, and Ford shrunk back, "I'm getting to you," she warned him. Looking back to her brother, she had more to say. "I don't like the old Grunkle Ford any more than you do!" she said, "He acted normal for long enough – helping the town, all that good person stuff. When this Ford came into our lives, I gave him a chance, and Dipper," she added, taking a step into his personal space, "He proved it to me! This person," she pointed to the nervous man behind her, "Has my Mabel seal of approval. But you, Dipper? You've never let him prove a thing to you because your still stuck there! Stuck in the past, with old Ford! So cut him a break, and think about all the help he's given us since then!"
She whipped around. Ford stepped back, his eyes wide.
"And you," she said, glaring at him, "We all just saw a guy who we trusted and worked with get killed because we asked him to help us!" she scolded him. Ford cupped his elbow with his hand. She continued, "I know you don't want us to feel sad forever, but Dipper is right – how could you possibly feel this level of bad?" she asked him.
Ford swallowed. "Because- because I could have kept my family together!" he shouted.
The heat off Mabel faded. "Huuhhh?" she asked, her head tilting to the side, "I thought Grunkle Stan said that he messed up your machine."
"Yeah," Dipper added, "How does that make you any guilty?"
"It doesn't," Ford explained, "At least, not for the breaking of my perpetual motion device. And also, why was my brother explaining this to you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Oh," Soos chuckled, "When the old version of you came out, or as I will now call him, Oldford," Soos proudly proclaimed.
Ford shuddered, "Oh god, please don't."
Soos continued, "Mister Pines explained why he was working so hard to get you back."
Mabel spoke up, "That he ruined your fancy science thingy."
Ford looked away, staring at the deactivated television. "He's not wrong. That doesn't mean that's the whole story, though. He might have broken it, and he didn't go to tell me... which I'm still really worked up about," Ford scowled for a split second. He then let his tension drop away, and he began to relax. Ford continued with his story, "When my dad rounded on him, after I confronted him about it all, I could have stopped my dad from excommunicating him from the family."
"Ex-what?" Soos asked.
"Exoskeleton," Mabel told Soos, "Like a bug."
"Oh," Soos nodded.
"Shh!" Dipper hissed at the two of them.
"It traumatized my mother for the rest of her life, and not to mention my father was even more of a miserable stick in the mud of a guy than he had been before. All because... because I could not accept that I was hurt. I justified it all being Stans fault. But my brother, being out of my life for almost fifteen years... splitting my family apart like that?" Ford explained, "That's on me."
He looked around. "The day that I was called by someone, and it turned out to be my brother... It was the luckiest day of my life," He told them. The twins stood up a little straighter. Soos' eyes shimmered, and Wendy smiled.
"I had no idea he even wanted to talk to me after all of that," Ford smiled, and then managed to laugh, "I mean, I had considered what to say if he did, but the phone call didn't go the way I had wanted it to, that's for sure. And when he came to work with myself and Fiddleford, we made quite the team. Most of the journals stranger accounts are all due to Stan just being the kind of guy who'd think of trying something that bizarre."
With a proud shrug, Mabel said, "Relatable content."
"So, of course, as Stan suspects something is wrong when I begin my communications with Bill Cipher," Ford sighed, "I ignored him. I treated him like he wasn't smart enough to comprehend the larger picture. And if I had only just..." Ford's eyelids closed slowly, and he shook his head. "So many times, I had the opportunity not to wrap myself in my own pain, and just move on from what was typically a misunderstanding. Yet each time, I made my own life harder. Do you know that when I went to college, I found that the grade acceptance was so low that even Stanley could have made it into the same year as me?" Ford asked with a laugh.
"What?" Dipper chuckled, "No way anyone's that desperate for students!"
"Ohh yeah," Ford nodded with a grin, only for it to falter, "Imagine if he'd even made it through high school, he could have gone with me. Instead, he never even got a high school diploma." He looked to the pine twins. "My point... my point is just this – we make mistakes, but the worst of mistakes are the ones that hurt others. I... so... I know a bit of how you feel," he said.
"Ohh, Grunkle Ford," Mabel said, her gaze kind and her voice softer, "Thank you for sharing that."
Soos had tears falling down his face as he spoke up. "To learn that his brother cared about him so much," he said, sniffling, "Oh, dawg, it makes me just want to hug you."
Ford gave him a deadpan glare. "Please don't-" Soos immediately was hugging him, lifting him off the ground. "Oof. Okay. So much for my one request."
"Grunkle Ford," Dipper spoke up, adjusting his blue cap with a nervous pluck. Ford was let down from Soos, and the gang looked to Dipper. He finally looked at his Great Uncle. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're right. I... I'm hurt by all of this. I didn't mean to lash out at you."
Ford stepped over, a wide smile across his face. "It's okay, Dipper," Ford said, putting a hand on Dipper's shoulder, "I meant it earlier when I said it's okay to hurt," he restated, "It's only important to not let yourself act on the accord of pain alone."
Dipper nodded, and stepped by, dropping to a seat on the couch. "It's been pretty hard not to do that, you know," he said.
"Yes," Ford sighed, "Us Pines can have something of a temper when it comes to inter-family drama."
"Pssh, Dipper and I never argue," Mabel bragged.
Looking to Mabel, Wendy cocked an eyebrow. "You two literally had an argument yesterday morning about magic."
"Dipper and I never argue about important things," she replied without skipping a beat. "The point being," she said, hopping next to her brother, "Is that we're all a little closer now."
"Huh!" Soos exclaimed in shock, "Declare a statement that has nothing to do with your prior ones, but link them together anyway! Genius!" Soos said to Mabel.
"Thank you, Soos!" Mabel grinned. The Pines and Soos chuckled as Wendy rolled her eyes and gave a small grin before walking back to the window. Looking to the four, Mabel let her energy fall just a little, "But you're right, Ford. I... I'm also still sad," she added.
"Understandably so," Ford nodded, "Back home– err– at least when I knew it, the beasts and monsters of Gravity Falls were not so bloodthirsty and callus to just murder without intent. Heck, even the vampires and werewolves I encountered had purpose to their hunt. We're up against a true villain," Stanford announced with a heavy stare out of the window, past Wendy.
Mabel whistled. "He's a freakin' terrorist now."
"He's always been one," Dipper said after a moment. When the others looked to him, he gave them a half-hearted shrug. He asked, "What? He attacked Gravity Falls with those werewolf-plant things he made. And tried killing me!" he added.
Mabel chuckled. "That you didn't start with him trying to kill you first speaks volumes of your sense of selflessness," Mabel told him, an air of grace as she placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Or that you're just so used to being his target numero-uno," she said, and gasped, holding a hand to her mouth, "Mermish! Still got it!"
Ford frowned, and pointed out, "But that was- wasn't that-"
"Don't try, it won't work," Dipper sighed as he looked to the elder man.
"But what do we do now?" Soos asked, looking to the three pines, and Wendy. "Did mister Maximillion say anything about what we do next?"
Dipper's mouth twitched as he resisted a scowl. "To hold up," he recited, "And wait for them."
Looking out the window again, Wendy asked, "So, the Paths are coming to us?"
"Sounds like it," Dipper replied.
"Phew!" Mabel sighed, and flopped entirely onto the couch.
Wendy, a little quieter than before, inquired, "There isn't anything else we need to do?"
Dipper craned his head to look at her. She was holding her arm tightly, and her gaze was to her side, looking at the floor. "Uh, Wendy?" Dipper asked.
"Hm?" she looked up, dropping her stance quickly.
"You okay?" he asked quietly. Ford, Mabel, and Soos also took their turn to look at Wendy, who adjusted herself slightly. She adopted her trademark smile, and nodded.
"Yeah," she shrugged, and leaned against the windows, "I'm just, I dunno," she said, pocketing her hands, "Antsy. After the Jersey Devil, and now Montana Jeffreys... I just kind of hope we can get into the business of saving people."
"Wendy," Dipper said softly. Mabel rushed past him, and then pinched Wendy's arm.
"Ow?" she chuckled and looked at Mabel. "What's that for?"
"Luck!" Mabel said with a big, wide, smile. "Now, one day, Mabel said, turning to the rest with her eyes wide and shining, "You'll be a true super-hero!" Wendy laughed, flashing her white teeth and tossing her hair side to side. Dippers smile grew ear-to-ear and his neck grew hot watching her smile and laugh. Mabel continued, "And you'll have the biggest axe imaginable! We can call you 'The Unwavering Wendy'!"
"I'd probably just go with 'Red Phantom'," Wendy said.
Ford asked, "What's that? Another modern media reference I'm woefully behind on?"
Soos bounded up, "Oh, dawg," he turned to Ford, holding Wendy's arm, "We played your Strongholds and Serpents game!"
"What?!" Ford gasped, "It was cursed by-"
"We know," Dipper and Mabel said simultaneously. "It briefly brought back Bill to see us."
"I died," Mabel shrugged.
Ford stared at her, uncertain as how to make of her statement. "...You serious?" he finally asked. Mabel only smirked.
Wendy laughed, and explained " Red Phantom was the name of my character. I think I was a ranger, or archer. The Red Phantom," she said, and drew an imaginary arrow, and plucked it outward with a mighty draw of some unseen bowstring.
From the doorway, another voice called out, stunning the group. "Superheroes with bows and arrows could be interesting."
Mabel barked in excitement, spinning thrice before coming to. The rest stood and faced the doorway. There, standing in his usual dark garb and silvered mask was Zander Maximillion, Aka, the Guardsman of the Paths. Behind him was a mess of injured and tired looking people: the two men with shaven heads, a tall woman with previously long black hair, a shorter woman with short red hair, and a teenager with a guitar case on his back.
"Zan-" Mabel cried, and then clenched her teeth tightly shut, "I mean-" she tried again, "It's the PATHS!" she said and rushed past her brother, who had only just started over. "You're all looking... wow," she said, giving those behind the Guardsman a quick look over and flinching, "You've seen some action."
The man known as Rushtar snorted. "That's the nicest way to say we look like hell," he said as he walked past the Guardsman and Mabel. He asked aloud, "You guys have any ice?" he called, pointing to his bruise-discolored scalp.
"Uh, yes?" Ford said, watching the man invite himself in, "Help yourself?" Ford attempted to say, but it only came out uncertain.
"Don't mind if I do," the marching man said.
Still at the door, the Guardsman asked, "May we come in?"
"What are you, a vampire?" Mabel cackled, brushing her hair as she gently pulled him inside by his arm. "Don't answer that," she suddenly said, giving him a suspicious look. The Mask just stared at her. Slapping his arm, Mabel cackled, "I'm joking!"
Pulling his sister to the side, Dipper told them, "Yeah, come in guys."
"Thank you," the other man, with rich, dark skin, said.
As the Guardsman and the paths stepped inside, the woman Mabel once called 'Menace' said, "We really need some-"
The dark-haired teen ran past her. "Couch!" he cried out, and dive-tackled the couch, laying into it face-first.
Soos, having barely avoided the guitar-toting man's warpath, chuckled. "That seems about right, dawg," Soos said as he sat next to the teenager. The teen had started to groan into the sheets, becoming something a human puddle of relief.
As the tallest woman walked past Zander, he studied the room. Mabel was close on his heels, and a semi-reluctant Dipper shortly behind him. Eying the dark cloaked person, Mabel asked, "So, how've you been?"
As he pulled himself from the fridge, the pale man by the counter called out, "Terrible!" as he held a bag of ice on his head.
The Guardsman, ever sounding slightly bored, told the gang, "It's been a bumpy road for everyone." Perhaps it was the emotional state everyone was in, but his near mono-toned voice floating like a heavy fog throughout the room. He added, "I'm hoping that we can get a little rest before we have to start heading west again."
"Yeah?" Wendy asked. The Guardsman nodded slowly to her. "Sup, man?" she said, giving him a nod in return.
"Uh," Dipper leaned in, and quietly asked, "Zander?" The mask turned and stared at him. "Look, I get that you guys are tired, but I need to know something."
"Ask away," the voice replied.
Dipper took a deep breath. "How is our mom and dad doing?" Dipper asked.
"Oh!" Mabel leapt off the ground, "Yeah! Are they safe? Are they falling in love again? Do Dipper and I have another sibling on the way!?" Mabel declared, her eyes wide and bugging out of her head.
"Woah," Dipper grabbed her shoulders, locking her down, "Maybe a little too excited. Also, really?" Dipper asked, eyeing his sister with a grimace, "That's where your mind goes to?"
The Guardsman stared at Mabel. "It's been eleven days, Mabel," he reminded her. Mabel's face fell slightly, looking sheepish. "But yes," he added, and the twins paid rapt attention to his next words, "They're fine. They are currently at the safe house."
"Where's that?" Mabel asked.
Aside, the redhead spoke up, overhearing slightly, "Wyoming."
"What's there?" Mabel asked. The woman merely looked to her, and then to the Guardsman. "Oh. I guess, uh, the 'safe house'?" she guessed.
A throat cleared from the center of the large room. The Pine twins turned with the Guardsman to look at Ford, who was standing up, looking proper as he held an arm behind him. "Attention, please," he stated. Slowly, everyone turned to face him, even the teenager from the couch pushed his head over the backside and peered at him grumpily. "Ah, thank you," Ford said with a nervous chuckle.
"Now, seeing as how you've all been invited into the space without any kind of reprimands from my family, or my family's friends," he said as he pointed to the twins, and then Soos and Wendy, "I think it's fair enough that I, the responsible adult know... who exactly you all are?" he asked.
The man behind him, by the kitchen shrugged. "Nah," he said, and drank a long glass of water.
Despite the harsh reply from the bald man, The Guardsman stepped up. He began to point to his disciples. The Guardsman first said, his gloved hand pointing by the couch, "The one on the couch is Drew Alto."
The teen turned back to the Guardsman; his eyes wide. "They get our full name?" he asked. When the masked figure nodded, the teen sighed. "Well... yeah. Okay, I guess. Hi," he waved around. His short black hair seemed naturally spiky, and his gentle, warm skin tone was peppered with tiny scratches.
"Sup, dawg?" Soos asked, offering him a row of knuckles. Drew nodded and gently collided his own knuckles against Soos'; an official fist-bump. "Yush!" Soos cheered.
"This," Zander continued, pointing to the lady of red hair, "Is Maureen Brennan."
Mabel added with wide eyes, "The Menace..."
The woman with the red, pixie cut hair currently wore a cut across her cheek. Fresh enough to irritate the skin but already scabbing, it put a contrast to her otherwise youthful appearance. Her hair was a brighter, more popping color than that of Wendy's gentle red. At her title, she smirked. "Hi! It's been a bit, but I still got some menacing in me."
As Zander went to continue pointing, Dipper asked of Maureen, "Why're you called the menace?"
She laughed, rubbing her collarbone. "I, uh, might have gotten the name after I got into a fight in a bar. Wasn't too bad," she shrugged after Dipper's mouth dropped open, "They all recovered. Well, eventually they did," she added with a small thinking glance to the ceiling.
The Guardsman pointed to the tall woman. "That's Rin Goda." The tall woman looked to the cloaked man, and then to the twins. Her hair was currently free, falling to just past her shoulders. Otherwise, she had dark brown eyes and pale, cold toned skin.
"Hey," Dipper waved a hand.
"How's it hanging?" Mabel asked her.
Rin stared back.
Moving on from the quiet woman, the Guardsman pointed across the room to the tall, dark toned man inspecting the counter. "That is Nadan Imani," Zander said.
"Hello," he said, turning and waving to the five members of the group, "I'm pleased to meet you."
"Greetings," Ford said, approaching and shaking his hand. Though not as tall as the imposing woman known as Rin Goda, Nadan cleared past six feet tall. He had a strong looking jaw and cleft chin, with calm, twinkling brown eyes. His warm toned skin had a series of bandages around the arms. Ford noticed, and kindly asked, "Do you need any other medical attention? I might be able to find a magical balm that-"
"Ah," Nadan gently retracted his hand, "I'm sorry, but I'll be okay."
"Oh. Very well," Ford said as Nadan took a seat on a nearby stool.
"The paths," the other shaven head man said from the fridge, pouring a glass of water for the seated Nadan, "Don't really touch anything magical."
"That," the Guardsman added, "Is Darren Roughton."
Mabel called out, "The Rushtar!"
"Yup!" Darren 'Rushtar' smiled. A tad younger than Nadan, the last of the introduced figures had cold blue eyes and a cool skin tone. He was rather pale, and had several small scars around his scalp. "Sometimes you just need to take a guy down the old-fashioned way," Darren smirked, "Solid tackle to the floor!"
"That's how you got it?" Drew asked, looking over the couch, "You just... tackled someone?"
Cocking an eyebrow towards Dipper, Rushtar noted, "Someone twice my size, thank you very much."
From the couch, Drew argued, "But Maureen fought off a dozen gang members twice her size."
"Well, when you're as short as Maureen," Darren shrugged, "Everyone is twice your height."
"Rude," Maureen grimaced, "Don't be bitter that I've got more menace than you got rush."
"So," Mabel turned back from looking around to face the Guardsman, "What's the word? Traveling with the Paths been good?"
Going to lean on the couch, Maureen stated, "He hasn't always been traveling with us."
"You haven't?" Dipper asked as the twins looked back to him. The Guardsman shook his head. "Where have you been?"
"Finalizing the second part to our saving the world from this magic disaster," he said, and walked past the twins. The followed, and he continued, "The plan: what do you two remember?" he asked of the twins.
"Save the world by going on a cross-country, whirl-wind adventure!" Mabel cheered.
Dipper, more accurately, replied, "Collect the Starkissed orbs, enough to do something like create a second Stone of Conservation."
"Mine was more fun," Mabel huffed.
The Guardsman continued, "With the final orbs collected, we can complete the final step. See," he said, turning and looking at them with the silver mask, "The spell that was cast onto the stone was one-of-a-kind. Never written down. Never replicated."
"Wait, does that mean we can't re-do it?" Dipper gasped.
"Nonesense!" Ford called out. The three looked to him, and he adjusted his glasses, "If my ability to piece together your intent, and from what I've been told is accurate, a spell of that magnitude leaves behind a signature, a trace, or outline, of its effect."
"Yes," The Guardsman nodded, "That was what caused the region around Gravity Falls to have abnormally high levels of magical happenings, and why it was contained.
Stanford gasped. "The weirdness magnetism!"
Zander was not done with his planning. "However," he added, "The stone is gone. We only have a trace of the trace."
"A ghost!" Mabel gasped.
"That would be putting it mildly," the Guardsman said. "But with my understanding of magical theory, and a bit of help of Stanford's technology," The Guardsman added, "The device is almost ready."
"W-wh-what?!" Ford snapped loudly, "What on earth do you mean my technology!?" he shouted.
Wendy pushed herself from the window. "I'm going to go to that lobby down a floor," she looked to Dipper, "Let me know when people are, like, done shouting."
"Uh-okay?" Dipper said, watching the redhead casually walk out of the rental.
The dark-skinned man turned to Ford. "What are you upset about? The Master of the Paths sees your work as monumental in saving the world," he explained in his deep voice.
Ford was less than pacified by the assurance. "That's fine, but how on earth could you have possibly come across my technology!?" he snapped, "You're not in any academic circles! Wait," Ford scratched his chin, "are you?" he asked after a second thought.
The Guardsman shrugged. "You should get with the times," he explained, "There are search engines on the internet specifically for published materials. How many materials did you publish during your student years?" he asked.
"Search... engines?" Ford asked, trying to keep up.
Turning to Ford, the Guardsman spoke more. "Your theories on spatial tears and energy resonance are not practical for science, but when applied to magical theory," the Guardsman added as Ford bit his cheeks angrily, "They work brilliantly. I've been working with a young scientist and engineer, who owes me a favor. With his constructive brilliance, the Source-Inductor will be ready in a few days."
Ford's mouth dropped. Dipper looked between them and asked, "That's, uh important?"
"Of course," Ford whispered, "The origin of all energy. Of magic. Of space-"
"The source," The Guardsman nodded.
Soos, thoroughly lost, asked, "What's that?"
"Simply put," Ford began, "It's the theorized existence of a place without the principles of our universe. The space between the space between spaces," he said with a nervous jig, "Also theorized to be the cosmic space where universes interact with one another! Simply put, it would be the space that clusters of grouped multiverses come from."
"Welp," Mabel sat down on the couch's back, "You've lost me. That didn't take long."
"It's okay," Dipper took a deep breath, "This is a big one to take in." At his poorly chosen words, Mabel giggled at him. Dipper growled back, "Oh shut up. Perv."
"And the Source-Inductor," Ford explained further, "Was a device I theorized that could breach not into another dimension, but into the cosmic soup of dimensions itself! I never got along to the math or physical impossibilities that would need to be hurtled in order to do it, but-"
"But if a magical device had already done it for you," The Guardsman explained, "Then reaching into it and pulling out a spell would be feasible."
Dipper jolted up. "Hah!" he pointed to the Guardsman. "See! You are relying on magic!"
"I'm relying on the fact that magic caused all the problems we're dealing with now," the Guardsman coolly replied, "Not introducing further magic. After what happened yesterday," the Guardsman said, giving Dipper a glance, "I'm shocked you're still trying to argue it's validity."
Dipper nearly choked on his words. Red flashed into his cheeks. "Y-you-"
"Well," Soos stood up, "if we're going to do this super cool fixing of the world and possibly breaking and entering into another place, what do we need to do?"
Speaking up this time was the tall man, Nadan. "If I am to understand this plan correctly, nothing else," he said, giving Soos much needed stress relief. "This box," he turned and held the sides of the small wooden crate, "And it's contents will be enough."
"If the contents are what we expect," The Guardsman noted, and approached. As he approached, each member of either the Paths, the twins, Ford, and Soos, collected around the box. Nadan, taking the key in his hands, offered it to Mabel. With a beaming smile to the man, Mabel happily accepted the key. With a small sigh, she inserted it into the box. The box rattled. All but the Guardsman and Mabel took a half step back.
Then she turned the key to the side. The rattling stopped, and the lid popped up, only a fraction of an inch. Her hands going to either side of the treasure chest, she lifted the lid, and poured a strange light onto their faces.
Fifteen orbs, perfectly circular and appearing like large marbles contained of the starry sky, sat peacefully inside the container. Mabel beamed, the light of the stars glowing across her happy cheeks. "Booya!" she yelled.
"That's enough?" Dipper asked, whipping to Zander, as the image of the Guardsman.
"It is," the Guardsman nodded, reaching out with his gloved hands to take up a small, golf-ball sized sphere. "With those you've collected, this should be enough to do our job."
"Yush!" Soos proclaimed, giving himself a self-high-five.
"So, we're finally done running across the country?" Mabel asked, looking to the various people around her.
"I think so," Maureen the Menace smiled.
Putting the orb back into the box, the Guardsman closed and re-locked the small wooden box. "Mabel," he said, turning to her, and looking around to the rest of the gang, "Dipper, Soos... and you too, Ford," he said, "You've all done well."
"T-thank you," Dipper said, looking away.
"No problemo, Mister Guardsman sir!" Soos saluted.
"I wasn't as much of a help as we'd have wished," Ford shrugged, "Honestly, I'm just here to offer some perspective to my family and their friends."
"Especially you, Mabel," the Guardsman said, putting a hand onto Mabel's shoulder, "Arline would be so proud of you now."
A ringing in Mabel's ears of the compliment overwhelmed her senses. He throat tightened as she stared at the silvered mask. In a moment, her eyes filled with tears, and she sniffed. "Th-thank you," she managed, wiping her face with her arm as she began to cry.
"Aww, no," Maureen said, hold her shoulder in her arms. She whipped her head around, giving the Guardsman a glare, "Really?" she snapped.
The Guardsman took a step back, his hands up. "W-what?" he asked, "I just... complimented her."
From the kitchen side of the countertop, Darren chuckled. "Maybe reminding her of Arline wasn't the best idea, huh?" the guy said before pouring himself another glass of water.
"Exactly!" Maureen said, a dangerous look in her eyes, "She's clearly tired and stressed like the rest of us. Don't go dropping emotional bombs like that on her."
"Mabel," Dipper said, a little overwhelmed at the reaction for Mabel, "You okay?"
"Y-yeah," she sniffled, and nodded. Giving the arm on her shoulders a pat, "I'm fine. Everyone! I'm fine!" she declared with a watery laugh. She looked to the silver masked man, and gave him a wide smile. "I just really like what you said, that's all!" she laughed. "You really can make a girl feel appreciated around here!"
The Guardsman stared at her as she laughed, and finally seemed to chuckle. Dipper watched with a smile as Mabel and the Guardsman laughed. When he looked around, the Paths were stunned. They watched the shoulders of the Guardsman bounce with his laughter, the sound that seemed (at least to them) so unfamiliar.
"He... he can do that?" Darren asked Maureen across the counter.
"Of course, he can laugh," Rin said aloud, turning away from the group, "He's human, isn't he?"
With a faint smile, Nadan admitted, "To our growing evidence and knowledge."
"Well," Soos asked, "What should we do then? Do we need to make a super-airplane that takes us to where-ever this machine thingy of yours is, mister Guardsman sir?"
"You can do that?" Drew asked Soos, "Just make an airplane?"
"Yeah, if you give me enough junk, I could. But you'd probably want to give me extra time so I could also turn it into a transmogrobot."
"A what?" Maureen asked as Darren laughed at Soos' comment.
Soos explained, "Transmogrobot – A robot that is actually other things! Like a microwave!"
"Or an airplane," Drew added with a grin, noticing Maureen's eyebrow pop up in surprised. "Just a little cooler than a microwave."
The Guardsman said, his voice recovering to its normal monotone sound, "We'll be able to drive there. But with the way things have been, and considering the attention he's been getting, I think we're safe from the Warlock for a day or so. Gives us recovering time."
"Excellent," Ford clapped his hands together, "I'm happy to hear that. Haven't had this much country-traveling since I drove to California in the first place."
"We'll leave tomorrow morning, and drive to the safehouse," the Guardsman said, and turned to the twins, "We can have you catch up with your family and a few other familiar faces," he said.
"Who else?" Dipper asked as Mabel blinked.
"Others in need of protection, mostly due to my failings, and arrogance," the Guardsman said quietly.
"So, we have some time to relax?" Mabel asked. When the Guardsman nodded, she leapt to the ceiling, and leapt back onto the couch, "Anyone want to play a game? Got some cards? Wanna gamble your life away?" she asked to Drew.
"Always," he rolled his eyes, but took a seat.
"Sweet," Dipper sighed. He looked around, "I can't wait until we can just..." he couldn't find the person he wanted to talk to. No long red hair, no freckles, no roughed Leather Jacket. "Wendy hasn't come back yet?"
"She stepped out, remember?" the Guardsman told Dipper as the Paths all stepped towards the coffee table that was enclosed by the U-shaped couch. As Darren passed by, the Guardsman leaned in closed, and spoke to Dipper. "She's probably overwhelmed."
"Why?" Dipper asked.
"Well, think about it, Dipper," Zander spoke through the mask, his voice no longer the cold tone he'd been using for the past few minutes, with exception of the laughter he and Mabel had shared. "She's been traveling with you all. A Wraith being with people who sleep, eat, and drink sort of develop a serious envy," he explained, "Especially in the early stages."
Dipper turned to him, focused intently on the mask. "You do know a lot about Wraths." The mask nodded. "Why?" Dipper asked.
Zander leaned up fully. "I have a lot of experience with them," he added, "Back in the dark ages, there was one story – it's now a song, actually," he said quietly, "Of Shadow of the Alps. Let's just say," Zander said, "It's not just a tale about a wight."
"I can't say I know the song," Dipper said, "And I thought a wight was something different than a wraith."
Zander nodded. "They are, but only in one detail. A wraith is free, a wight is chained to someone, until they are freed and become a wraith or until the person who controls them... dies," he said solemnly. "The story isn't a terribly happy one."
"Is it important?" Dipper asked.
Zander's pause worried Dipper. Without the face to read, Dipper had no idea what to expect. Still, Dipper remembered Zander's typically strong poker face; it might not have helped to see the thoughts behind the eyes after all. Finally, the man shrugged.
"Not entirely. It's just about the consequences of underestimating loneliness; what happens when you give someone who has nothing literally anything, and then take it away again," Zander explained, "But let's just say I might have had some experience with the original story."
Dipper stared at him, his eyes narrowing. "You wrote the song, didn't you?"
"Guilty as charged," Zander promptly admitted with a high-pitched chuckle. "Not my best work, and a little dated, considering I wrote it a few centuries ago."
Dipper sighed, and turned to stare at the door Wendy took. As he looked, Zander walked next to him and put a hand to his shoulder. Zander said quietly, "Don't worry. Give her a few minutes. Then if she doesn't come back, then you can go talk to her."
The elevator doors opened, and Wendy stepped out. Holding close her worn black leather jacket, she marched out into the wide, floor-sized lobby. Large, comfy looking chairs were scattering into isles, each with a side-table for magazines and other reading material. The tall, wide wall-windows stood before her. Walking by a seated man, she approached the window, and leaned against it.
She let a heavy sigh fall from her lips, and rubbed the sides of her neck. Watching the city of Chicago below her was a surreal experience. She had been in Pittsburg, Portland, and passed through other cities during her travels with the twins. This was the largest, and it made her uncomfortable. Something about it all seemed familiar, like it was unapologetic and always ready for a fight.
It sort of reminded Wendy of her family.
She smiled as she pressed her forehead against a window support, reflecting back on them. She dared to close her eyes. She could almost see them, her dad with his crazy red hair and constantly frustrated look, and her three brothers-
Then the feeling swept back in. She could fall and never come back out. Plummet to the end of the universe and never be found again. The echoes of infinity and endlessness grew louder and louder, like the feedback of the tiniest whisper growing too loud to possibly bear. She gasped and opened her eyes, sweating across her face. She stepped back from the window, seeing her own reflection. Those eyes were still green. It was still her.
But for how long, she wondered...
Out of the corner of her vision, she saw a flash of silver and blue light. She looked to the reflection, but the sight was gone. Turning around, she only saw the man in the seat, reading a magazine. With a heavy gulp, she looked around once more. She swore it had looked... triangular.
After a moment, the person spoke. "Are you well?"
Wendy was already looking at the area the person spoke from. Turning her head only a few degrees, she studied him. It was an unfamiliar voice, which didn't bring such relief as she would have liked, but it was better than hearing Graupner's voice. Still, it was tinted with an accent. "You're not from around here, are you?" she asked.
The magazine lowered. A man with curly brunette hair and a pleasant face looked up to her. He gave her a small smile. "Can hear my accent, can you? I thought I'd gotten rid of that," he said. Wendy shrugged, but he then looked to her, "But you're also not from around here, are you? I can also tell."
Wendy stared at him. There was no weapon or trace of magic on the man, but something about him put Wendy on edge. Maybe it was her exposure and conditioning to people always being up and arms about things, or being used to strangers trying to kill her or her friends, but his calmness made her nervous.
"I was born," he said, snapping her out of her thoughts, "Just south of London. Ages ago," he said, "I've spent more of my life in the states, admittedly. You? I'd say you're American, but where as to I'm not certain," he said.
Wendy sighed. She'd give him the chance of politeness. "Oregon," she said, "I'm pretty far away from home."
"Same," the man said, folding the magazine onto the table and crossing one of his legs over the other. "I'm from Los Angeles."
"Cool," Wendy said simply. "Why're you here?"
"Business," the man said, he leaned forward, and outstretched with a hand. "I'm Alvis."
Wendy stepped up, and shook it. "Wendy."
"A pleasure to meet you, Wendy," Alvis said as he fell back into the seat, only a few feet from Wendy. "Forgive me, but you, uh, look exhausted."
Wendy nodded, and stepped back towards the windows. Leaning against them with her arms crossed, she nodded. "I don't get, uh, much sleep anymore."
"A shame," he said quietly, "Hopefully life isn't keeping you from your required rest?" he asked. Wendy sighed, and looked away. "Oh. Sorry," he said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "I'm used to Los Angelinos – we talk about everything. I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine," Wendy sighed, "I've... sort of gotten used to it."
"Have you?" he asked, an eyebrow raised as he looked to her, studiously.
For a moment, Wendy considered her answer. The man before her watched intently, and after a moment, Wendy came to a decision. Why lie to a stranger? He wasn't going to stay and tell her friends anything anyway. She sighed, and shook her head. "No. Not really."
He nodded. "I didn't want to say, but you weren't acting like you had your problems sorted out. That's okay," he said with a sad smile, "We're all struggling to figure out our lives."
"I just wish so much could be undone," she grumbled, "Like, I have my own personal problems, sure," she said, pulling on her hair, "But that's just, me you know? If I'm messing up myself, who cares. But me and my friends, we got this... problem," she said, staring off across the huge lounge area.
"Go on," he encouraged her.
"He... it," she corrected herself, "Has hurt a lot of people. But he could have been a problem that ended a long time ago. I think... I think he- err- it was inspired by me," she said, her voice trembling. The listener Alvis nodded, his brows furrowed. She asked him, "How much of what has happened could have been prevented if I hadn't been there to give him an idea?"
Alvis blinked, and looked around for a moment. "I, uh," he started, "Can't say I expected such a forward thing to come from you, Wendy."
"Not used to honesty?" she asked grimly.
"Of course not," he shook his head, "The rich are all liars, which until recently, I worked for. Trust me, I can tell when someone is honest," he said and smiled, "I'm just... sorry to hear you look down on yourself so much. You seem like a good person."
"I guess," she shrugged.
"Don't downplay that in yourself," he said, leaning forward a bit more, "A good person making the right choice, even when it hurts, can change everything."
She looked up to him. A great conviction was in his eyes, unlike what she had expected from a sudden stranger. He leaned back, and sighed.
"I made a choice too, you see," he said, "I saw an opportunity to temper a problem. A problem that's still going to this day. But I know," he told her, those eyes shining with a sudden strength that took her by surprise, "If I had not taken my choice, worse things would have happened. It's about making the moment count."
"The... moment?" she asked.
He nodded and smiled. Standing up, he said, "Sometimes, a single moment is all that it takes to change the world." He checked a watch on his arm, and sighed, "My boss is late. Darn. Well, I guess that means I have to get back to my office," he said.
"Well, don't want to be late for the office," she said, giving him a small grin.
"Oh no," he shuddered, "A lot going on there. Still constructing and building, even as we work in it... but there is just so much potential- ah," he laughed, stopping himself, "Rambling again. Sorry. Wendy," he gave her a small wave, "I'm sure you'll make the right choice," he said, stepping back into the elevator, and nodded to her with a smile, "Whatever that choice might be!"
As the elevator closed before Alvis the businessman, Wendy stared at the elevator. That strange feeling of running into someone who was not hostile seemed alien still. She stared at the doors a few moments longer, pondering his words. "The moment," she mumbled, before turning back to the windows.
Wendy was certain that her problems were more complicated than a simple choice. They had to be. She really felt the weight of the Warlocks current being. Considering that if Graupner hadn't found out that there was a way to be a wraith, which she was positive came from her, he would have died during his fight with Dipper and Yuki. If he had just died, as terrible as it was to think that, then Montana Jeffreys, all those officers, heck, the freaking Jersey Devil; all would still be alive.
What could she have done to change all that? What else could there have been to do? She didn't choose to be what she is now. That was a circumstance of luck and fate, so what did she have to do? Unless there was some secretive, hidden spell that could just erase what she was, and by proxy, Graupner, what could she do? She wasn't smart enough for that kind of thing, she reasoned.
She knew someone who was smart enough to find out how. Someone who had been trying since he figured it out in July, and been working on it almost each night. Every time he thought Wendy wasn't looking, he'd pull those journals out and trace ideas in his mind, sometimes mumbling out loud. Heck, she was certain she'd heard him sleep-talk theories while she stayed watch deep in the night.
She smiled, seeing in the reflection a girl with hope again. The elevator beeped open behind her, and she decide to go up a floor to the gang again. She wanted to talk to Dipper.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Taking a step outside of the elevator, a dark look across his face was the last person she wanted to see. She wished it was just Alvis, coming back for a magazine.
"Corduroy," Graupner Kinley quietly said, walking into the lounge, alone. He said her name like someone would mention a piece of steak, a slab of meat. He was back in the black cloak he so enjoyed wearing.
Wendy didn't know what to do. He seemed to be alone. There were none of his guards. There were none of her friends. What should she do? He found them, or her! Was he here for her? Did he do anything to the others? Too many ideas, worries, questions-
She decided quickly to act, and think later. With a loud yell, she rushed forward and jumped.
"Oh," he meekly said. He could only manage to blink right before she planted the toe of her boot into his face. Graupner went sprawling to the side, blood pouring from the injured nose.
"Get out of my way!" she yelled, and rushed for the closing doors of the elevator. The doors closed, and she slammed her finger against the button, summoning it back.
"It won't work," Graupner muttered as he stood up, some ten feet behind her. "Those doors won't open for you," he sneered. Wendy spun around, and saw a wall that had a stairway. She ran for it, and in a moment got to the latch. It wouldn't budge. Graupner added, "Neither will that one," while wearing that terrible smirk.
Wendy started to run across the room.
"Or that one," Graupner lazily said, a wave of his hand closing and locking another door to a stairway.
Wendy skidded to a stop, and turned. "You–"
"What?" he asked, his hands up as he shrugged, "I thought this would be better than my first plan: burn the hotel to the ground and force you all out into the street."
"That doesn't make what you're doing now a good thing!" she yelled at him, sweat pouring down her face. Heartbeat or no, she felt her head abuzz.
"I don't care for good or bad," he said, taking a seat on one of the chairs, "Morality is just determined by people who want laws, labels, rules."
"No, most people can feel when they've done something screwed up," Wendy retorted hotly, "Something you lack!"
From the chair, he looked to her. "Why don't you come, take a seat?" he asked, "I have a lot to ask of you."
Wendy felt a white-hot anger flare up in her. The indignity of him, so casual about murder and death to just chose when and where he would be civil. Something about it made her lose it. She yelled and rushed at him again. He stood up quickly, but as he held out a hand, he could only manage, "Wait, sto-"
Wendy dove and slammed her fist right into his face. He spun, tripping over the couch-chair and onto the floor with a slap. As he stirred, Wendy reached down and grasped him by the cuff, and punched again. And again. AGAIN! She felt the pain of her knuckles as they withstood the impacts of hand to face. She grimaced each time she saw a trickle of blood hit the clean, white floor.
Each time she hit him, he just looked to her. His eye was empty, devoid of pain that she felt in her heart. He just kept letting her hit him, again and again.
After no less than a dozen punches, she hesitated, holding her fist up. "You want more?!" she snapped, spit falling from her lips as she heaved.
"Whenever you are done, really," he said calmly, "I've taken a beating like this before, and that was before I was undead," he reminded her, "But I've got to say, you do hit harder than Dipper-"
Wendy roared. Holding him as she ran, she slammed him into the chair, toppling it over. With a mighty toss, he was thrown towards the elevator. Hitting the cleaner floor there and sliding across the polished surface, the Warlock came to a stop as his head hit the magically sealed doors of the elevator. He didn't even need a moment before he started to move back up, twisting himself to face her.
Wendy started for him. She marched with heavy footfalls, a hard breath escaping her lips.
From the floor, he reached out with his hand and easily said, "Halt."
Wendy felt every inch, every cell, every molecule of her body tense. She felt her legs lock onto the ground, her arms stiffen in their place. Her face refused to emote. Panic gripped her mind as she suddenly found herself trapped in a motionless body.
Graupner slowly pushed himself up, giving himself a terrible chuckle. "Now," he said, wiping off a trail of blood from his nose, "We can talk."
He stepped closer, marching right up to her. She was still about his height, so as he looked into her eyes, which she found herself able to move, he smirked. "Don't worry," he said to her, "Spells like these don't really let me hurt you. Not that I could with my physical strength," he said, walking around her, towards the window. "And I have no intention of destroying you with magic," he said, somewhere behind her.
As she stared ahead, trying to look around without being able to move an inch, she felt him very close behind her. A breath hit her ear, and all she wanted to do was flinch and pull away.
"I think," he said softly, whispering into her ear as he walked back into view, "That you have a chance to do something now." She stared at him, unmoving. Then he slapped the side of his head, "Right. I forgot how boring a planned conversation is when the other is silent. Fine," he waved his hand in front of her face. Suddenly she could move her jaw in disgust, crane her neck away, and take several fast breaths. "Better?" he asked.
"I'll start screaming," she warned him, "If you don't let me go."
"Go ahead," he shrugged, "These floors are built specifically for warmth and to be sound-proof. Scream all you want. No one is coming through the stairs or elevator. And more importantly," he said, his gaze going stone cold, "Anyone who comes... dies," he warned.
Wendy closed her mouth.
"Better," he said. Taking a step away, he grasped the fallen chair, and dragged it over. Slowly, he took a seat, and sighed, staring up at her. "Another undead as valuable as me. Wouldn't have thought it possible."
"I'm not worth much," Wendy snarled, "But I'm worth more than you."
"If you say so," he shrugged, "Economically, though, you're certainly wrong. I'm worth billions, or at least hundreds of millions. Hard to say anymore," he sighed. He leaned closer to Wendy, "But you," he said in a whisper, "You're worth more than that to me. Do you want that money? Those hundreds of millions?" he asked.
"You can take your money," she started, "And shove it up your-"
"All right," he rolled his eyes, "Dramatic, feisty statement. Very mundane, I get it, simpleton."
"This simpleton just steamrolled your butt back there," she reminded him with temper.
"As a brute does to the intellectual," he said, and then stood up, "Let's get to the point. Semantics aside," he said, and walked up to her frozen body and smiled. "Wendy, I think it's time I asked you personally, instead of using my old technique of killing your friends or kidnapping them and forcing you to surrender yourself."
"W-What?!" she gasped, her eye wide.
"Ah, I knew it was a good idea," Graupner smiled to her, "You're a softie. You like your friends. You want them to not die, or suffer, or whatever I have in store for them," he added with a nasty snarl. "So, here's what I can say I'll do... I'll offer you a deal."
"A deal?"
"Yes, and I'll say it slow for you, so I don't need to repeat myself," he said, leaning into her face, "You. Willingly. Come with me. And I. Leave your friends. Alone."
And THAT is how you make your readers nervous...
Update really late. Or endanger one of their favorite characters, I suppose. But I'm sure she's fine! There wasn't any prophecy about her downfall against The Warlock foretold in this story! Heh-heh-heh... heh...
Any-whooo, I've got some more updatey stuff to talk about! I quick apology again for the typos I'm certain you found during this read. I got a 100mph cold this week, and spent most of the past three days (crucial editing time) coughing up my lungs. Apologies for the quality, but life has a way of being difficult sometimes. ;P And to those whom I usually respond to and didn't- I'm so sorry. Your words are getting to me, and I'm not ignoring you. Thank you for the love and kindness.
Next week will be among the last updates for quite some time. Expect the update at a random time next week, as the coming weekend will be hell for me. The following weeks (until the second weekend in DECEMBER) will be similarly busy for poor widdle me. Work and getting a sudden winter cold really kicked me in the writer's balls. After that (mid-december) I should be back... assuming otherwise. If you review, I'll be more than happy to update you personally should my schedule change.
That's a thing, right?
On a more positive note: I'm holding a poll! For those of you who enjoy the side-project I have called 'Strongholds and Serpents', I'm finally going to go back and update it with some more content in the next few months. This stuff is all for fun, and though you may feel free to call it canonical, it won't really matter for the sake of this story. But if you want "Action, Adventure, Drama and Dragons", check it out. If you like it already or find out you enjoyed it, give the poll a try! You get to vote where the gang have Grunkle Stan send them. And I'll get to Aliens too, sometime. Just gotta iron out some details with tEI2.0 a bit more...
Anyway, don't worry about Wendy! I'm sure it'll all work out for her! See you next week! (Grabs a twenty sided dice) now, I roll for exit! (The Dice lands on a Natural 1.) Oh crud.
(A Giant Golem of Rocks and boulders stomps through the roof, crushing EZB under it's collossal weight.)
Giant Golem: KIIIIM! (it storms off.)
(Rushing after it is a young woman in a red and black polka dot body-morph suit swinging like Spiderman, and a cat-boi with an extension pole.)
Strange Super-Hero in Red and Black: Sorry!
Cat-Boi: At least he hit (He winks at the red and black super-heroine) rock bottom? Ehh? (gives the girl finger-guns.)
Strange Super-Hero in Red and Black: He could be dead, kitty.
Cat-Boi: Touche.
(They chase after the golem).
... (Stirring under the broken rubble) Why... am I suddenly in Paris? (a broken piece of a ceiling clonks EZB on the face and knocks him out cold.)