Chapter 1: "When the fire goes out."
There was a silent shadow where only the desolate sight of an endless red plain, extinct and dead, could be seen. Occasionally, this landscape was interrupted by some strange titanic entity that obstructed that perfect red line of fire in the distance. That's why it was so easy for Pyronica's followers to identify a solitary dark figure sitting on one of the many scorched cliffs where, long ago, there had been a great city.
"You're far from home, friend," one of them shouted, trying to sound tough. They were guys dressed in scraps of metal and junk, spray-painted pink, carrying pyromantic weapons like pink flaming batons, small pink flamethrowers, and, of course, pink Molotov cocktails (and, as an emergency, sunscreen bottles). However, the words of the thug did little, as the figure remained inert. Occasionally, the howling of the wasteland was interrupted by the sound of a pencil dancing on a very thick sheet, whoever it was seemed to be writing noisily, as if stabbing the book.
"You're sitting on the favorite cliff of our benevolent Pyronica! This is where she comes to pose before the apocalypse to demonstrate her power! In fact, she's going to do it today! Does anyone remember what time?" One of the followers raised his hand excitedly.
"Oh! At eight! Pyronica poses at eight!"
Suddenly, the figure stopped making that characteristic writing noise, culminating in a loud closing of the cover. Whatever it was that he was writing in, it was a very heavy book.
"Take me to her, I request an... audience."
It was a young voice, subdued, and perhaps a little rough. The followers' faces shifted from confident smiles to shark-like grimaces, one of them stepping forward, approaching the figure who, now standing, was being shaken by the wind, making his coat dance like a flag.
"Listen to me, buddy, the sacred and only eye of our most powerful lady Pyronica is not worthy of contemplating a filthy outsider like you... Instead... Perhaps bringing her your head would be a better welcome gesture. What do you think, guys?"
The follower turned, seeking approval from his three other companions, who jumped energetically, celebrating what seemed to be a prelude to another horrendous act. However, when he turned his head back toward the stranger, he found himself staring at an expressionless gas mask, aiming what looked like a strange device resembling a gun.
"Heh... What's this? Buddy... Are you pointing a gun made of Legos at me? GUYS! THIS GUY HAS A LEGO GUN—"
The follower couldn't finish the sentence; he had dissipated into a cloud of bright blue atoms that retained the last expression he made for about two seconds before being swept away into the infinite wind of the Weirdmageddon. He was disintegrated, and the figure was now aiming at a new target.
"JOEY!... OH MY GOD!... HE KILLED JOEY!... GET HIM!"
It was a desperate voice, and the others obeyed, carried away by the commotion, but they suffered the same fate as their first companion, except for one who tried to escape the cliff by descending the hill. However, a beam struck his leg, disintegrating it instantly, causing him to roll down.
"FREAK!... STAY AWAY FROM ME!"
The heavy and patient steps, accompanied by the characteristic sound of breathing belonging to the mask the figure wore, instilled absolute terror in the follower, who continued to crawl, leaving marks on the burnt reddish sand... Until a heavy boot with iron tips crushed his forearm, causing intense pain.
"GAHHH!... FOR THE LOVE OF BILL!... WHY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?"
· "Pyronica is in the cathedral, isn't she?"
"Y-YES! DAMN IT!... YOU'RE A MURDERER!... EVEN SHE DOESN'T TREAT US LIKE THIS!"
· "How many have you killed to survive?"
The masked figure placed one of his knees on the ground, crouching to listen better and breathe even harder near the follower, as if it were some form of torture.
"W-WHAT?... THAT DOESN'T MATTER, MAN!... IT'S THE DAMN APOCALYPSE! WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES!"
A sinister laugh came from deep within the mask, as he grabbed the terrified follower by the chin.
"M-MAN... YOU'RE GIVING ME THE CREEPS... YOU WIN!... OKAY?... JUST LET ME GO!"
· "Do you have any idea what Pyronica's armies did to the nearby villages? Do you think the people there simply left their shelters before they burned in pink fire tornadoes?"
"DUDE... I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT."
· "They didn't manage to escape..."
The figure pulled from his backpack what at first appeared to be a simple burnt ball of fur, but when he threw it at the follower's face, he realized what it was: a burnt teddy bear.
· "No one... managed to escape."
There was a moment of silence where only the wind was an eternal presence. The follower got lost in his thoughts, and a storm of guilt, horror, and logic rushed through his mind, experiencing a feeling similar to realizing all the stupid things one does when drunk, only with an extra quintuple portion of moral weight... The figure was well aware of all these details, having seen situations like this over the past six years.
· "Your three friends are the coins that will pay for that bear... On the other hand, Pyronica will answer for the owner."
That dark and violent masked wanderer left the follower reflecting in the sand, firmly holding the incinerated bear while he disappeared into the growing cloud of red sand. In the distance, the burning pink flames of what was now called the "Cathedral of the Moths" could be seen, as the lady in charge of that place said, "Humans, in such darkness spread by our glorious friend Bill, will turn to the fires of false hope and cheap perfume emanating from this beautiful, beautiful Cathedral."
Emerging through a dense cloud of dust, he finally saw it in the distance: what looked like an oil platform perched atop a dry sea. In the center, as if forcibly embedded, stood the Victorian structure of a classic religious cathedral, its stained glass windows ablaze with pink fire. In the sky, at almost the same altitude helicopters used to fly before they mutated into monstrous creatures, majestic fire whales soared, singing their eerie songs. Some descended to the ground, setting it aflame, which, to the figure, "was beautiful."
"IT'S HIM, DAMMIT, IT REALLY IS HIM," muttered one of the cathedral guards as he watched the masked stranger slowly approach the gates. "Impossible... the rumors were true... Not even Eight-Ball..." Another guard stammered in response, quickly rising from his chair to sound the alarm. "EIGHT-BALL IS DEAD... THEY'RE ALL DEAD... IT WAS HIM!... AND HE'S COMING FOR HER."
The sharp sound of heels echoed through the air. The guards assembled in a formation that exuded imperial style and respect for the queen of eternal fire, Pyronica. With her single eye, she watched as the figure traversed the endless scorched plain.
"My lady, should we open fire?" asked one of the guards, gripping the triggers of a defensive mortar tightly. However, the fiery woman signaled them to lower their weapons, closing her single eye as a symbol of power.
"Please, boys, that styleless freak couldn't possibly make it through the whale field without ending up like a fried and refried piece of chicken, seven times over in the same fryer... But..."
The guards hung on to every word Pyronica uttered.
"But?" asked one of them.
"But if he somehow manages to make it through alive... He'll have earned the right to a fun, fiery, and explosive audience with me... It's only fair, don't you think, darlings?"
"WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, YOUR MAJESTY, BUT WE HAVE HIM IN OUR SIGHTS; WE CAN END THIS RIGHT NOW AND SOLVE THE PROBLEM ONCE AND FOR ALL... HE KILLED ALL YOUR FRIENDS! ¡EIGHT-BALL!, ¡KEYHOLE!, ¡TEETH! THEY'RE ALL DEAD-"
But before he could continue rambling, the guard was violently incinerated by Pyronica's hand, who simply watched as he was reduced to ashes.
"That's exactly why I'm going to give him the honor of facing me, so I can avenge my friends, silly! Got it?" she said, though she was talking to a skull still glowing with pink embers. The other followers looked on in terror, some unable to bear it, resorting to vomiting.
"Awww... Of course you didn't get it, because you're dead!" And with that, Pyronica turned her back on all her followers and retreated into the cathedral. Despite her fiery displays and tyrannical demeanor, she was, in reality, a sensitive girl... She couldn't help but let a single tear fall before entering her sacred place once more.
"I'll show no mercy."
Meanwhile, the mysterious figure was crossing the eternal fires of the wasteland with ease, but one of the whales noticed his presence. Driven by a unique instinct to destroy and burn, it dove faster than ever before toward the wanderer, unleashing a powerful explosion of fire that extended in an incredibly warm gust of wind. The guards and followers watched in anticipation, witnessing such a spectacle.
"HA!... THERE'S NO WAY HE SURVIVED THAT!... QUICK, LET'S LOOT HIM!" shouted one of the followers, and obediently, they all set off to scavenge his body. However, when they opened the gates, they saw firsthand the figure walking through the massive flames of the crashed whale, a dark specter moving within the infinite red and yellow cascades, like a demon escaping from hell itself.
"B... but..." one of the guards stammered.
The figure was now at the gates that the followers themselves had opened. He had passed the test, and as Pyronica had decreed, he was worthy of an audience.
"Leave now while you still have your souls... NOW!"
The wanderer's voice boomed like thunder, causing all the followers to flee the platform they were on. They ran around him, avoiding him, until finally, only the empty stairs leading to the cathedral stood before the figure.
He ascended boldly, and once there, he blew open the main doors with one of his many devices. Before him, in the darkness of a throne illuminated only by the red sky, a burning pink eye began to take shape until Pyronica materialized.
"Well, well! The boy is now a man. Isn't it an inspiring story of self-improvement?" exclaimed the woman, engulfed in pink flames.
"You know perfectly well why I'm here," replied the masked figure, drawing ever closer to the burning throne.
"Of course I do, silly... But I won't give you anything... You've been a very, very bad boy... Santa won't be bringing you any presents this Christmas! Haven't you thought of that?" In a mocking tone, the fiery lady stood up, towering over the wanderer by about ten times his height.
Before taking another step, the wanderer reached into his backpack and threw several objects at Pyronica's feet. Among them were a black bowler hat with a light blue ribbon, two eight-balls, a sort of rhombus with a dead white eye and signs of violent dismemberment, a cracked red pacifier, among others... The malevolent expression on the fiery woman's face shattered, replaced by a look of mixed anger and pain.
"So... it was true..." she whispered in a broken voice.
"I've learned a lot from your kind... You're nothing more than fragile stars; it's a miracle you've lived this long. And now you're the last one... Although, I'm mistaken, someone else is still waiting for me, ¿right?" The figure stared directly into Pyronica's single eye, his words terrifyingly honest.
"I've also... I've also learned a lot from your little world, boy!" Her gaze turned mocking again.
"At first, I just wanted to incinerate this tiny speck of dust in the middle of the universe to leave my eternal personal mark. But I realized that the suffering of your race is truly satisfying, just like popping little air bubbles!... Annihilating your kind changed my motivations. Now, I don't want to burn everything, I only want you all..."
Huge wings of pink fire emerged from Pyronica's back, resembling those of a seraph. In response to her words, the wanderer remained silent, staring at her intently.
"And when I've finally burned you all enough, Bill will grant me the ability to bring you back to burn you AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN... SO!... TELL ME!... DIPPER!"
Pyronica, now furious, had transformed into what seemed to be a flaming pink angel, her eye completely purple and without an iris.
"¿DO I STILL SEEM LIKE A FRAGILE STAR TO YOU?"
Dipper quickly drew a weapon similar to a shotgun, loading it with a battery embedded with shards of a strange, vibrant blue crystal. He aimed at Pyronica's only eye and pulled the trigger, causing her to clutch her face in agony.
"CURSE YOU!... THIS IS CHEATING!... THIS IS CHEATING!"
She fired a powerful beam of pink fire at the boy. "DIE ALREADY, FRIEND KILLER!" she screamed in euphoria, laughing maniacally. However, from the flames, Dipper leaped directly at the hand that was shooting, severing it with a quick shot, the same type he had used earlier on her followers, disintegrating Pyronica's right hand. In response, she grabbed him with her remaining arm and hurled him against one of the pillars, painfully sending him through it.
"How!?... ¿¡How are you immune to the fire!?... ¿¡HOW CAN YOU HURT ME!?" she demanded as she approached, transforming her remaining hand into a massive spear of pink flames.
"Let's just say... this jacket I'm wearing once belonged to a... former friend of your boss... It can protect against many things, though not really against fire," Dipper replied, painfully, slowly getting back on his feet.
"THEN... WHAT PROTECTS YOU?" the fire lady demanded as she grabbed Dipper and threw him even harder against another pillar, which he crashed through, causing immense pain and difficulty breathing under the mask.
"¿Don't... don't you recognize your friends' blood? Each of them had powerful gifts... though... a bit disgusting to take advantage of... Did you know how... ugh... how thick Eight-Ball's blood was?" Dipper said, bleeding and coughing. He then removed his mask, revealing a young man, blood trickling from his mouth, his hair noticeably longer, surprisingly without any signs of acne, even at 19.
"YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!... MONSTER!"
Pyronica lunged with her spear, aiming directly at Dipper's uncovered head, but he was quicker, dodging the strike by tilting his head to the left while still holding the shotgun in his hands, aiming at the fire lady's mouth and pulling the trigger, sending her flying toward the cathedral's towering ceiling in a burst of rays and blue particles. After a few seconds, she crashed down in the middle of the cloister.
"Ouch... that's definitely going to leave a scar..." Dipper muttered.
Half of the fire lady's face (and her only eye) was now gone, and she seemed to struggle to breathe, clawing at the air in all directions. It was clear that her coordination had been severely affected by thanks to the boy's shot .
"An entity not belonging to this universe… and defeated by the most conventional weapon in this country… or… what's left of it… What do you think? What's your final grade?"
But she couldn't speak, though she tried in vain, as the pink flames began to extinguish rapidly.
"Ah, yes, what a less malevolent way to die… But don't worry, at least a little piece of you will live on with me."
Dipper, from his backpack, took out what appeared to be a special lab jar, with which he collected the last of Pyronica's flames before they were completely gone. The jar had an internal system that kept those embers alive with a perpetual motion ring that Dipper had built himself.
"Go… ahead."
It was her voice, as if she was giving her last breath, and the boy looked at her curiously.
"Go after him… finish… what you… want… but nothing… will bring… them… back…"
Dipper closed his eyes, lifted his right foot, and stomped hard on the only eye of the extinguished fire lady. After that, he took a deep breath and then left the cathedral.
"THERE HE IS! THE TRUE HERO!... APPLAUD THE AUTHOR! HAIL THE AUTHOR! LONG LIVE THE AUTHOR!"
A crowd of refugees, slaves, and other survivors had come out of hiding when they saw the pink flames that once characterized the cathedral had finally gone out. Dipper was used to this sort of event, yet, even after all this time, he was still a bit shy.
"Th-Thank you all… Now… I… I have to… Go on and save more things and people… ¡woo-hoo! ¡long live the author! And whatever…"
Dipper responded, and when he spoke, everyone fell silent as if it were a speech. Immediately, the people erupted in celebration; it was normal for survivors of this prolonged Weirdmageddon to throw parties for anything related to saving lives. He, for his part, had learned to appreciate gratitude from a distant but understanding perspective…
"PLEASE, AUTHOR! STAY TONIGHT TO CELEBRATE THE INCREDIBLY VIOLENT DEATH OF THE PINK QUEEN!" said one of the survivors who wore a trash can lid on his stomach as armor.
"Sorry guys, but I have to keep going… There's still much to do," Dipper replied gently.
"BUT AUTHOR!... WE HAVE THE LAST NACHOS ON EARTH !" And with that, a woman knelt down with an extremely shiny tray of nachos with salsa and guacamole.
"ALRIGHT, you got me! I'm yours, guys!"
That was a pleasant night for the boy. So much time in action, perhaps the last four months had been really tough, but who hadn't it been for? There was a bit of luck, as the reddish and distorted sky of Weirdmageddon had cleared, allowing them to see, if only for an hour or two, the real stars of the night. All the survivors delighted in gazing at them, as it had become a sign of "good omen" for them. Meanwhile, in one of the highest parts of the cathedral where the boy had set up a small camp to rest, he took from his backpack what appeared to be a block of dark ice that glowed with a beautiful light blue from within. He then took the jar containing the last of Pyronica's flames and opened it. The flames immediately grew and clung to the ice, latching onto it like whips. With a violent gesture, the boy thrust his hand into the chunk of ice, weakened by the flames of the deceased fiery woman. Desperate, he pulled out what appeared to be a perfect, circular, shiny gem that distorted a small part of space in his hands and around it.
"Finally…"
He unsheathed a weapon from his back, but it wasn't one he had used before; this one was truly special. Pressing a button, he extracted what looked like a small square cartridge with a single circular slot, just where the shiny circular gem could fit.
"Uncle Ford… Who would have thought that reloading this would take so, so long…"
Dipper held the quantum destabilizer, the same one used against Bill that only managed to hit his hat, missing the one chance to finish off the triangle demon once and for all.
"This time… I will shoot…"
From an inner pocket of the coat he was wearing, the boy gently took out the picture of all his friends, the last memory of a past world, the only piece of Gravity Falls he took with him… He brought the picture to his chest and hugged it.
"I promise you all…"
To be continue…