Chapter Twelve: Mr. Oakle's Skinsuit Emporium

"So what's the plan?"

"Huh?"

Mabel jumped down from her seat on the railing, "The plan! You dragged us all the way out here to come up with a plan, right? Spill it."

Wendy whipped her joystick around and mashed a series of buttons wildly, "I don't think Dipper had any other intention but to get creamed! Bam!"

The machine made an eight-bit whirring sound signaling the success of Wendy passing level fifteen. It was official, she had surpassed Dipper in both level and score. Wendy had two of her lives left, Dipper only had one. It was clear what the outcome would be.

The sun sat high up in the sky on the cloudless afternoon, but the trio were currently inside the arcade in downtown Gravity Falls. Lights strobed and flashed all around, characters on screens yelled, retro music played in the background, along with several other ambient pieces. Kids ran around from one end of the room to the other, each attraction gaining a few minutes of attention. An air hockey table, rows of classic arcade games, basketball hoops, laser tag, pizza, soda...it had it all. If Gravity Falls weren't so strange and anomaly-filled, Dipper would probably spend most of his time here. Minutes became hours as he lost himself in the thrill.

Today, he brought Mabel and Wendy with him to help come up with a plan on getting Pacifica away from her family. Only thing...they hadn't exactly accomplished much in the past hour. Dipper and Wendy were drawn to the Wac-Man machine, reigniting an old high score feud beginning when Wendy topped the leaderboard last week. Dipper had to reclaim his throne.

Throw Mabel spending her time winning enough tickets for a stuffed unicorn, and you get a lot of procrastination.

But Mabel had long since won her unicorn and must've gotten bored watching the two play Wac-Man, prompting her to bring things back into focus. "What are we gonna do about Pacifica? Didn't you say she's gonna be cooped up at some event tomorrow?"

Dipper picked up his half-empty Pitt-Cola and took a sip, leaning against the Wac-Man machine as Wendy still played. "It wasn't really clear. She said her grandpa's throwing some party for potential investors and she has to be there."

Wendy moved her hands from one end of the machine surface to the other to keep the little Wac-Man away from the zombies, "Never would've guessed her grandpa was still around. I figured he'd be just another old dude in one of their big portraits."

"So we just have to figure out a way to get her away from the party without anyone noticing," Mabel said, "Shouldn't be too hard."

"Shouldn't be too hard? Mabel, that literally sounds impossible!" Dipper took another miserable sip, "We should just hold it off for a few more days when things cool down. We can go then when it's easier."

Mabel shook her head, "Nuh-uh. Things like this are time sensitive, bro. You have to strike while the iron's hot or Pacifica's gonna overthink things and back out! Or even worse, her grandpa moves her to some horrible place like New Jersey!"

Dipper deadpans, "Both of our Grunkles are from New Jersey."

"And they've never had anything nice to say about it!" Mabel huffs.

"To be honest...I'm kinda with Mabel on this one," Wendy adds, "This new Northwest seems like he means business. I mean, dude wasn't here one day and he already bought back the manor from McGucket, a day later and he's bringing a hundred high-rollers to the valley. Who knows what he'll do next week? It's not far off to say he might make Pacifica leave town."

Dipper stared at the floor. From just one interaction with the guy, he got the impression Grandpa Northwest didn't do things subtle or lowkey. "Maybe. By the way, are you sure you're cool with helping us?"

Wendy shrugged, "Yeah, man. I'm always down to tag along with you guys."

"It's just...well, you don't really know Pacifica. I wasn't sure if you'd want to help someone you probably don't like."

"I never said I don't like her; I just haven't talked to the girl enough." Wendy looked up in thought for a moment, "Or at all, I guess. But hey, if you like her, I'm sure she's alright."

"We super-duper like her!" Mabel clarified, "Which is why we've gotta save her from that boring event so she can go on a Dipper date!"

"Amen!" Wendy agreed, then groaned when her Wac-Man died, "Dang, last life. Dipper, you're up, man."

Dipper waved his hand to pass up the turn. "How would we go about it, though? If the event is focused on the Northwest family, it'll be pretty hard for her to sneak out. Even for a few minutes."

Mabel made a gesture with her hands, placing them on her head, "Thinking cap on. We should use the copier!"

"The what?" Wendy asked.

"The copier that helped Dipper clone himself so he could-" Mabel realized who she was talking to and clamped her mouth shut.

That made Wendy glance over her shoulder, "So he could what?"

Mabel's calf brown eyes flicked between them guiltily. Dipper felt like his face was going to overload with heat. He could've gone the rest of his life with Wendy not knowing about Tyrone.

"Last summer, we found a magic copier in the Shack and I used it to make clones of myself so I could spend more time with you."

He dared to look at her. She still remained focused on the game, "Wait, was that the night where we ran the ticket stand?"

"Yeah," Dipper confirmed.

Wendy smacked the side of the machine, "I knew something was up! You were acting weird all night!"

Mabel chuckled, "I don't think that's the only reason, Wendy."

"Either way, I don't think it's a good idea to do that again." Dipper decided.

Mabel tilted her head, "Why not?"

"Because last time the other clones turned against me and got all crazy. They all wanted to deviate from the original plan. Besides, they melt when they come in contact with liquid, and you know they'll have a bunch of drinks at this event."

Mabel didn't know that part. The revelation made her slump, "Fooey."

"But I'm sure there's some way to make a second Pacifica."

"It's Gravity Falls, dude," Wendy noted, "There's probably ten ways to do it. Hey, maybe try checking in that new journal we found a couple weeks ago."

Before Dipper can shoot the idea down, Mabel does, "No way! After the whole Cupid thing, I don't trust that new author. Whatever ideas they have'll probably get Pacifica hurt or killed."

While Dipper felt the same way, inwardly, he tried to justify what happened yesterday. It was perfectly within the realm of possibility that the author didn't know Cupid's true nature and wrote the journal entry from a purely neutral position, slipping Dipper that note based on the little knowledge they had.

Or, it was also perfectly within the realm of possibility that the author did know of Cupid's psychotic nature and fully intended for things to go wrong. There's no way to tell, it's all left to his imagination.

Finally, Wendy's Wac-Man lost his last life. The machine beeped and Game Over flashed across the screen. Wendy clicked her tongue, "So what do we do, then? If we can't look in the journal, do we just wander around the forest and hope to find something that can help?"

Honestly, that's not the worst idea. Just roaming around the forest long enough would produce results, but Dipper doesn't have that kind of time.

"Maybe we can look through the first three," Mabel suggested, "Grunkle Ford wrote those, so it should be fine, right?"

Before anyone could comment, a group of familiar voices approached them. Dipper recognized the black hoodie and tight pants before he even looked at the middle part and the pale face. Robbie Valentino, his former love rival, and behind him, Wendy's friend group. Tambry, by Robbie's side tapping her phone screen, Thompson, directly behind them munching on a corn dog, and Nate and Lee behind him, shoving each other with stupid grins on their faces.

He and Mabel had already reunited with the group at Wendy's epic Summerween party, where Nate, Lee, and Thompson recognized him as 'Dr. Fun Times,' Tambry may have looked up from her phone at him, and Robbie gave him a quick nod, no words exchanged. An improvement over last summer's constant bickering and differences over the red head. Honestly, he would take what he could get. He had no ill feelings toward the emo teen now.

"Wendy!" Nate, Lee and Thompson came up and pelted her with fist bumps, then rounded on Dipper and Mabel, "Dr. Fun Times! Smile Dip! Still haven't forgotten how you guys owned that whiny ghost at the party!"

Lee snickered, "Yeah, he was all- don't trap me in the mirror! I can teach you how to phase through walls!"

"So sick!" Nate laughed.

Robbie, again, gave Dipper and Mabel a small, dismissive nod, turning his attention on Wendy, "What's up, Wendy? Haven't seen you since the party."

Tambry swiped up on her phone, "I just sent you a greeting text," Another swipe, "And one asking where you've been all week."

"Just been working a lot," Wendy explained, raising an eyebrow, "What are you guys even doing here? You never hang out at the arcade."

Nate and Lee proudly thrusted two slices of pizza in front of them, "Best pizza in town! Thompson ate one off the floor for five bucks!"

Thompson tucked his chin to his chest sheepishly, "Don't tell them that!"

Robbie ignored their antics, "So what were you talking about? Some supernatural junk?"

Dipper tried to avert the subject, not really wanting too many people to know about Pacifica's predicament, "Uh, not really. We were-"

Mabel jumped in, oblivious and flamboyant, "We're trying to figure out how to clone someone without looking through Dipper's nerd books!"

Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose. The filter between his sister's brain and mouth might stretch half an inch thick. Words pass through like flies through a screen door.

The admission seemed to work, though. Thompson perked up in thought, "Well, I don't know about cloning, but I think I know a place where you can get a realistic face mask."

Nate bumped him with his elbow, "Yeah! That weird old dude at the tailor shop!"

Wendy waved her hands around, signaling a rewind, "Woah, woah, jump back. What are you talking about?"

Lee began to fill in the gaps, "Remember at the party, that dumb guy that goes to Medford High who's always trying to mess with us? I think his name's Heath? Whatever, doesn't matter- anyway, he dressed up exactly like Nate to freak us out. Totally worked."

Wendy shrugged. She must've not remembered this part of the party, "And?"

"He looked exactly like me," Nate said, "To the tee. My hair, my skin, my face, my nose...everything. It was really creepy."

Robbie looked confused by the information, "Wait, that was a costume? I thought I was just seeing double from whatever was in the punch."

"You were probably seeing double either way," Dipper confirmed, "That stuff tasted like acid."

Thompson continued, "After he nearly gave Nate a heart attack, he took off the mask and told us he got it made at this suit tailor place just outside of town. Like, in the middle of nowhere. He gave us the address."

Nate smirked mischievously, "We were thinking about getting one of Thompson's dad. Might be too much, though, he scares easy."

Mabel turned to Dipper, eyes sparkling hopefully, "That might be just what we need!"

Dipper couldn't argue with that. If they didn't want to consult the journals or wander the magical forest, this lead could be the key. "And with this we wouldn't have to worry about a clone going rogue. One of us could wear the face mask and take Pacifica's place at the party!"

Wendy was still skeptical of the idea, "But what the heck's a suit tailor doing selling skin masks? That sounds sketch."

Lee threw his hands up, "The guy said he sells that stuff in the back. You have to say a certain phrase or password to get in, but he wouldn't spill the specifics."

The talking ceased for a minute while Dipper and Mabel gauged Wendy's conflicted expression. She likes the adventure and the risk, but she's not reckless to the point of it being naive. She knows when to call it quits and bow out when things are insurmountably dangerous, unless she has no other choice. Dipper and Mabel need her okay on this, because she's Wendy flippin' Corduroy, and her help is always a plus.

After a moment's contemplation, she finally let out a long sigh and offered her empty palm, "Hand me the address."

The trio gathered back at the Shack and huddled up over the counter in the gift shop, staring at the little slip of paper and its contents as if it were an alien language.

388 Old Lane Rd

None of them said a word or moved since they got back, their slacking going unnoticed by Grunkle Stan since for one, he had a small tour going through the nearby woods, and two, it was a slow day, the gift shop barren save for the three of them and Soos, who they'd lost sight of shortly after returning.

Finally, Wendy shook her head, "I've never heard of the place, and I've been outside of town plenty of times with my dad on just about every road. Nate and Lee are probably just messing with us."

"Even if they are, we won't know for sure until we look," Dipper reasoned, pulling out his cell phone and browsing the home screen, "GPS should answer the question." Quickly, he located the app and typed in the address. For the longest time, internet speed wasn't exactly one of the Mystery Shack's strong suits. Being this far out in the woods, on top of the natural weirdness dome around the town, it made it hard to have ultra-fast Wi-Fi. Thanks to Grunkle Ford doing some rewiring though, most interfaces operate within a blink. Even musical downloads are easy now, a feature Mabel continuously abuses.

The location appears as a pulsing blue dot, accompanied by realistic cartography of green grass, dirt roads, and power lines. No landmarks of any kind neighboring.

"It exists," Dipper said, showing both of them his phone screen, "See, there it is."

Wendy squinted, her skepticism not easing, "Yeah, in the stinkin' middle of nowhere!"

Mabel tried to remain optimistic, "It's not so bad! There's a nice cornfield behind it, so there must be a farmer in sight! An old one with a bunch of scarecrows in his yard!"

As if that idea brought any comfort. It only served to ire Wendy further, "Scarecrows that probably come to life at midnight. I can see it now, the owner of this suit shop locks us in, and we end up having to fight off an army of the suckers."

Dipper looked from side to side, puzzled, "What have you done with the real Wendy? That scenario sounds like one of your dreams! Usually you'd be excited!"

"Don't get me wrong, I totally am. I just don't want us going through a bunch of trouble for it to be a bust." Wendy's expression softened, "You're a good guy, Dipper, and I really want this thing with Pacifica to work. If we're gonna go all in on a plan to make your date happen, it needs to be a sure thing."

Dipper's frustration melted, "I know, and I appreciate it. I really do. But if we're not gonna look in the journals, this is the next best thing. Besides, if all three of us go, we should be able to handle any...unforeseen obstacles pretty easily."

Mabel stood on her toes, trying to get a peek at Dipper's phone, "How far did it say that place was?"

Dipper took another glance, "About fifteen minutes."

"Then it has to be four of us. We can't take the golf cart that far and Wendy can't drive yet."

Wendy groaned, "She's right. It's my dad's fault. He says I need to have a vehicle before I take my driver's test. I knew it would come back to bite me!"

"You could always pretend," Dipper suggested warily, "We're talking about Blubs and Durland here. I think the last thing on their minds are ineligible drivers."

Mabel turned to look at something on the other end of the gift shop, "Or we could, you know..."

Dipper and Wendy followed her gaze to find Soos restocking the monkey fish display, dressed up in his Mr. Mystery suit and fake eyepatch, oblivious to their staring.

Wendy nodded, "Good thinking."

Dipper agreed, "It's either him or Grunkle Stan."

"Soos!" Mabel called, "Get your eyepatch over here!"

Soos turned his shoulders, flashing a toothy smile, "Oh, you noticed, huh? Yeah, it looks cool, but it totally blinds you. I've tripped over stuff like five times because of this thing, dude." He lumbered over to them, forgoing the box of monkey fish, "What's up?"

"We're recruiting you for a top-secret mission," Wendy explained, her eyes nearly shut and her voice low for suspense, "But I'm not gonna lie, we could all get killed by evil scarecrows. You in?"

"Evil scarecrows? I'm so in!"

Dipper made a face, "But you don't even know what we're doing."

"I don't really need to. Anything with evil scarecrows is a yes from me. Kids of the Corn is like, my favorite horror movie."

Mabel perked up, "Mine too!"

Dipper rolled his eyes, knowing for a fact Mabel hadn't seen the gory flick, "You watched Friends of the Corn, Mabel, not Kids of the Corn. You don't like slasher movies."

Soos tapped his chin, "Friends of the Corn. Underrated kids show."

Dipper tried to get the conversation back on track, "Soos, we need you to drive us somewhere. It's kind of important."

"Dipper's love life hangs in the balance!" Mabel squealed, "If we don't go now his chances with Pacifica will die along with my hopes and dreams!"

Soos straightened as much as he could, saluting with the wrong hand, "I won't let that happen!" He faltered for a moment, "Wait, Pacifica? The kid you played mini golf with that one time?" He turned to Dipper, eyes wide, "You've got a crush on her, dude?"

He was still getting used to admitting the fact in front of a group. He'd probably never be able to pull it off without his face getting hot, "Kinda, yeah. But her grandpa's throwing this party at the manor, and she has to be there. Which...kind of poses a problem for us to hang out."

Soos held up a hand, "Say no more, dude, I'm on it. To the Soos-mobile!"

They followed him out of the Shack and into the outside heat, the sun positioned directly in front of them, unfiltered by the lack of clouds. Dipper pulled his hat brim lower to keep from squinting. With the perfect weather, the ambience of Gravity Falls surrounding him, the prospect of another mission on the horizon, it all made him feel content. Despite the circumstances with Pacifica's grandfather, summer felt the way it should. Things were still interesting in this town. Things kept moving along the direction of progress and time. No mystery is the same.

The clutter of voices from Stan's tour moved like a school of fish, being led from the woods to the side of the Shack, their Grunkle concluding his charismatic explanation of each fabrication.

"The gift shop's open until nine! All bobbleheads and shirts are ten percent off with every purchase of one hundred dollars!" As the crowd wandered into the Shack excitedly, Stan laughed deviously under his breath, "Suckers. They don't know yesterday I jacked the price up. Now everything's a hundred dollars."

The second everyone put a hand on their respective sides of Soos's truck, Grunkle Stan caught wind of their weak escape attempt. "Hey! Where're you knuckleheads going?!"

"Sorry, Mr. Pines!" Wendy shouted, cupping her mouth, "I'm taking my second break sooner instead of later!"

"You just took your first one!"

"Can't uh...hear you!" Wendy quickly opened the passenger door and slid on the cloth seat, her voice fading as she closed it, "Too much distance!"

Stan pointed his eight-ball cane accusingly at Soos, "The kids and Wendy I can understand, but you, Soos? C'mon! I thought we were partners on this thing now! The bosses don't get breaks!"

Soos wavered, looking nervously between the truck and his employer. For a second, Dipper feared he might cave. Then they'd really be out of options. He, Mabel and Wendy would have to resort to hitchhiking.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pines," Soos said, "But it's a matter of life and death. I have to help."

"Life and death? I don't see anyone dying!"

"It's a matter of love life and death, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel explained loudly, "If we don't do this, Dipper will be alone forever! Besides, it's a slow day! Are you saying you can't handle a group of customers by yourself? I thought that was your thing!"

Dipper fought to suppress his smile. Either Mabel's a genius and just pulled the perfect psychological trick on their Grunkle, or a happy accident just occurred. Either way, everyone around that truck knew Stanley Pines couldn't back down from a challenge, especially when it came to money.

The older man crossed his arms, his visible eye narrowing, "I never said I couldn't handle it."

Dipper jumped in, "I don't know, guys, I think he did."

"Totally!" Mabel taunted, silently proving that her initial challenge was intentional, which made it all the better. "Grunkle Stan's losing his touch!"

Stan uncrossed his arms to throw his fists at his side, "What?! Listen, I ran this place for ten years by myself before hiring an employee! I can handle any group of tourists with my eyes closed!"

"Then prove it!" Mabel urged, "You've got a buncha wallets walking around in there right now! Show us you haven't lost your charm!"

He straightened his suit, smiling proudly, "I will! Heh, this isn't me being tricked, I'm tricking you guys! Yeah, I'll show you!"

The four of them watched him march to the Shack's entrance with newfound vigor. He swung the door open and took a pose, spreading his arms beside him, "Scratch what I said folks, twenty percent off every purchase of two hundred dollars!" Every tourist inside whooped with joy, not realizing they've been swindled.

Dipper turned to Mabel in disbelief, "Did we just con the conman?"

Mabel raised her eyebrows, "I think so. But he's like seventy, so does it really count?"

Soos's jaw fell, "Mr. Pines is seventy? He doesn't look a day over sixty-nine."

Wendy's voice came from the passenger seat, muffled by the window, "I would've guessed a hundred and three. Have you guys seen him watch TV? It's like watching a blind dude trying to play darts."

Soos had the windows down, driving at a steady pace of forty-five miles an hour down the winding roads. Buried between rows of beautiful pine trees, the yellow lines faded in the middle of the asphalt, the cool breeze flowed through the inside of the truck and rustled the ends of Dipper's hair.

A rock song Wendy likes played at medium volume. Both she and Soos had their hands out of their respective windows, Wendy lightly tapping the side of the truck whenever a drumbeat would play, and Soos bobbing his head back and forth.

Mabel was currently doing her best dog impression, half of her body hanging out of the truck and her tongue hanging free, flapping whenever they hit a pothole.

"I'm starting to understand the appeal!" She shouted, "No wonder dogs are into this!"

Dipper knew she'd either start to fall out and he'd have to yank her back in, or a bug would hit her tongue. He stared at her for a few moments, waiting for the inevitable.

Bug it is. Mabel coughed and gagged before snatching herself back inside, rapidly wiping her tongue with her hands, "Bleh! Agh, I caught something in my..." Digging her fingers deep, she managed to pluck out whatever poor insect collided with her braces. A common housefly, still alive but struggling to get rid of the spit on its tiny legs.

"A fly!" Mabel exclaimed, "Kinda tastes funny. Don't bugs have a lot of protein?"

"Do not eat that fly," Dipper begged. Mabel had eaten questionable things before, but it always involved a bizarre mixture of foods that shouldn't go together, not things that make buzzing sounds when they get close to your ear.

She gawked, offended at the assumption, "I'm not! I don't kill bugs!" Turning toward the open window, she flung it out into the passing air. "Be free, little buddy!"

Soos turned the volume down, holding up Dipper's phone, still on the GPS app, "You got a text from Pacifica, dude. Says she's standing outside her mansion."

Dipper grabs the phone, switching to his messages. Sure enough, she sent the message thirty seconds ago. Dipper texted back a quick reply, letting her know they were close.

"Alright, I told her we're almost there."

"You sure it's a good idea for her to come?" Wendy asked nonchalantly, "It's probably bad luck for a girl to see a guy right before the first date. Every time I ran into a guy before we went out it never went well."

As if Dipper's superstitions weren't already through the roof. He knew firsts always set the tone; he didn't need any added pressure. "Maybe, but I figured if we're trying to buy a skin suit, we might actually need its model with us."

"Buy a skin suit," Soos repeated, chuckling, "That sounds so weird."

Mabel punched him on the shoulder, "Either way, it'll give you a chance to strengthen your chemistry! Activate those protons!"

For the remaining five minutes, Dipper kept his gaze locked on the pine trees until they entered the clearing that leads to Northwest Manor. Soos remembered the way from that night of the Lilliputtians incident. It seemed to be the first time visiting for Wendy, judging by the way she leaned forward in her seat and used her hand as a visor.

"Dude, this place is huge. I've seen it driving by a few times, but to be this close...I'm kinda jealous. You could build a freakin' roller coaster in the front yard!"

"My cousin had a roller coaster in his front yard once," Soos said, "We were only able to ride it twice, though, it was kinda made from rotten wood and super glue."

While Soos and Wendy entered a new conversation surrounding their top ten scariest amusement park rides, Dipper nervously tapped his knee, trying to see over Wendy's seat to spot Pacifica. Despite yesterday's realization and Mabel's advice in the closet, he's still new to being a teenager, new to seeing Pacifica in a different light, and even newer to dating. He's never been on one before after all, especially not with someone that looks like her. Standing next to her feels almost unfair, like starting a new game on nightmare difficulty.

Mabel noticed his internal conflict, "Remember, bro-bro, Pacifica's just as nervous as you are. She's just better at hiding it."

Dipper side-eyed her, "Gee, thanks."

She scooted closer, ignoring the sarcasm, "No, I'm serious! We texted a little bit last night and she told me she's never had a boyfriend before!"

This intrigued Dipper. He wouldn't have guessed Mabel would be able to squeeze out any information from the blonde. But for whatever reason, they seem to have formed a genuine, albeit weird, friendship.

"You talked to her last night?"

"Well, I sort of talked at her for an hour. She didn't say much. I think she's still getting used to our bestie status."

By this time, they eclipsed the towering driveway and reached the front of the manor, its wooden gates primed and polished. Beyond that, the hidden acreage of the freshly mowed grass and the top of the mansion jutting toward the sky. At the center, stood Pacifica, looking around uncomfortably.

And...there goes all of Dipper's confidence. As usual, she looks incredible, wearing her trademark purple. This time, a logoless cap-sleeve t-shirt, stretchy jean shorts, and snow-white sneakers.

"Huh," Wendy said, "She hasn't changed much. A little taller, maybe, but the girl still likes purple."

Soos pulled up horizontally, his side facing her. Once stopped, Mabel threw open the door, "Hey, new bestie!"

Pacifica approached cautiously, her face scrunching in disgust, "Am I supposed to like, climb over you?"

Mabel hopped out of the truck, nearly tackling the other girl with a quick hug, "Surprise hug!"

Pacifica yelped like she'd been tased, then growled when Mabel released her grip, "We've been over this, Mabel. Don't attack me with random hugs!"

Mabel jumped back, covering her wide grin with both of her hands, "Oh, that's right, I forgot! I'm not the one you really wanna hug, huh?" She ribbed Pacifica gently, "Heyooo!"

The comment made Dipper's cheeks get warm, and judging by the redness on hers, it flustered her too. He knew Mabel was having the time of her life right now, instigating from afar. That's fine, though, the next time she meets her beau for the summer, he'll get revenge.

Pacifica did her best to navigate the truck, ducking her head to keep from hitting it on the roof, making an effort to keep her hands off the seats, dusting off her shirt, like a cat preparing its resting position. Finally, she sat down next to Dipper. Mabel climbed back in and slammed the door shut, lightly smacking Soos on the shoulder and yelling, "Mush!"

As he turned the truck around, Wendy pivoted in her seat and nodded at Pacifica, "What's up, Northwest?"

Her eyebrows furrowed a bit. She probably didn't expect anyone to talk to her besides Dipper and Mabel. "Uh...hi." Wendy seemed satisfied and turned back around, prompting Pacifica to lean closer to Dipper and whisper, "What's your servant's name again?"

And just like that, he's not nervous anymore. He can always count on her to totally misread the room. Or in this case, the truck. "Wendy. And for the last time, she's not our servant! She works at the Shack!"

"Whatever. Where are we going, anyway?"

"Some suit tailor outside of town," Soos answered, "Apparently the dude makes skin suits instead of actual suits."

Pacifica looked at Dipper, bewildered, "Skin suits? You never told me that! That's gross!"

"Well, they're not made of actual skin. At least...I hope not."

"You don't even know what they're made of?"

"We've never actually been!" Soos laughed, as if the fact were a big joke, "I'm kinda just here in case we get locked in and have to fight evil scarecrows."

"Evil what?"

"Yeah, there's this big cornfield behind the place," Wendy said, kicking her boots up on the truck dash, "Probably a bunch of scarecrows that come alive and junk. You know, the usual."

"Yeah...the usual. Yay."

"It shouldn't be that bad," Dipper said, "If anything seems too dangerous, we'll just go home and regroup. But right now, it's our best lead to make tomorrow happen."

She flipped her hair back obnoxiously, huffing at the entire inconvenience. Dipper could see right through the front. She didn't care how eerie or disgusting the plan sounded, she just wanted to get away from the manor. "Let me guess, you found this place in one of your dumb books."

"Journals, and no, I didn't. Wendy's friends told us about it. Apparently some guy dressed up like one of them at a party...long story, but the point is, if what they said is true, you can be in two places at once tomorrow. Pretty cool, right?"

Pacifica still had that tight, reluctant expression glued to her. "I don't have to wear the skin suit, do I?"

Dipper rolled his eyes, "No. That would defeat the entire purpose. Someone else will wear it and take your place at the party, while we hang out."

She raised her chin upward, which would probably come off as intimidating if he hadn't grown taller than her. The stunning, electric blue eyes made up for that, though. Suddenly, his shirt became a hundred degrees too hot. "By the way, you never said where you're taking me."

He managed to hold the eye contact and smirked, "Why, only the finest, fanciest place in all of Gravity Falls. The Mystery Fair."

Pacifica balked, "What?"

Dipper crossed his arms, "Yep. Stan and Soos are bringing it back this year. Just you, me, deep fried vendor food, cotton candy, rigged games, and an uninspected Ferris wheel all day tomorrow. You can handle that, right?"

The challenge left his mouth, and Pacifica immediately reacted to it, catching on to his little game. She scoffed, "Please. I went last year, so like, I was gonna go anyway. Might as well let you tag along."

"Yeah, but did you ride any of the rides last year? Or eat any funnel cake? I don't think you understand just how rickety these rides are, Pacifica. If you go with me, you're getting the full experience."

"Sounds easy. Just don't come crying when those noodle arms don't win you any prizes."

Dipper could go back and forth with her all day. Another retort was ready to launch at the tip of his tongue, but a bright silver flash blinded him, followed by a mechanical noise. He blinked to find Mabel flapping around a small picture, produced by one of those cheap instant cameras.

Both of them glared at her, "Mabel!"

Mabel giggled, "That one's goin' in the scrapbook! Dipcifica romance collage!"

Pacifica reared her head back, "Did you just sneeze or something?"

"Huh? Oh! No, it's your couple name! You know, every celebrity couple has that thing where they mash up parts of their names together to form a single word. I've made one up for everybody! When Wendy dated Robbie, it was Rendy, for Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland it's Blurland...oh, and for Soos and Melody it's Moos! Hehe, like Moose, get it?"

Wendy guffawed, slapping the door handle, "Moose! I usually can't stand those couple names, but that's so cute, man."

Soos looked like he was having an out of body experience, "Mabel...you are a genius."

While she went over some of her other couple names to gauge Wendy and Soos's approval, Pacifica stiffened in her seat, keeping her arms neat on her thighs. "Does your sister always make everything awkward?"

"It's one of her many talents," Dipper mumbled.

With Dipper's phone remaining connected to internet data for the entirety of the drive, the GPS had no trouble guiding them to the suit tailor. At one point, they made a left down a narrow road with little to no houses on either side, just a long stretch of pines. It was at that point all recognition had been lost. Neither Soos nor Wendy knew where they were.

Finally, the pines vanished, and a large opening appeared. Unlike the clearing toward Northwest Manor, this looked like a barren desert. No mountains or rolling hills in the distance, just a vast sea of gold and green corn stalks, stretching as far as the eye could see. Maybe if Dipper brought his binoculars, he could spot a silo or a farmhouse on the horizon, but the way they were, they didn't have a chance of finding life with the naked eye.

Except for the suit tailor.

In the middle of it all, there it sat. The road they currently traveled stopped at a four-way intersection, continuing straight and turning left after fifty feet, they'll have arrived at their destination.

Already Dipper could tell that the place was odd. In the loop with their kind of weirdness. The kind that aligns itself with vicious garden gnomes and bears with multiple heads. He just got that vibe from the small brick building.

Not that it wasn't nice or well kept. It was. It had a quaint parking lot, spotless glass windows, trimmed greenery on a concrete walkway leading to the entrance, and a big sign above that read Oakle's Suit Shop.

Soos came to a dead stop at the intersection. No cars behind him, and as a matter of fact, no cars in sight anywhere. Despite being such an open area with breathtaking scenery, it looked completely abandoned.

Dipper, Mabel and Pacifica all stood up as tall as they could, hunching over Soos and Wendy's headrests to get a better look.

"So...it exists," Dipper said, not sure if he felt relieved or anxious.

"What kind of name is Oakle?" Pacifica asked.

"Like Oak tree?" Mabel guessed, "Maybe this guy's parents really liked them."

Wendy's position oscillated from one window to the next, surveying the cornfield. "I don't see any scarecrows. I think we're in the clear."

Soos wiped sweat from his forehead, "Should we keep going, dudes? I'm getting a bad feeling about that place. The GPS doesn't show any other buildings for miles."

Dipper patted him on the shoulder, "We've got nothing to worry about. Are you guys forgetting the stuff we've been through? Gideon's giant robot? Zombies? Bill Cipher? We can handle whatever's in that shop."

Wendy nodded firmly, "Dipper's right. Especially with all five of us together? Those dumb scarecrows don't stand a chance. What are they even made of? Straw? That's like, the weakest armor."

The reassurance pushed Soos to drive past the intersection and pull into the parking lot. One by one, they all exited the vehicle and walked across the flat gravel, with Wendy marching in the front, Soos shuffling nervously behind her, Mabel skipping happily behind him, and Dipper and Pacifica at the very back, side by side.

The second they entered the shop, Dipper's nostrils were invaded by a strong, crisp smell. Not a bad one, but one that goes down his throat with every breath. One of fresh paint and cologne, or ironed cloth and disinfectant. He can't put a finger on it, but it's overwhelming.

Pacifica comments on it, "This place smells like old people."

"And not the good kind," Mabel agreed, "Not like Grunkle Stan."

Dipper expected something a little more run down, but it you picked this place up and stuffed it in a major city, it would fit right in. It had a navy blue and carbon gray theme, with suits of all kinds on display. On rotation racks scattered throughout the sales floor, on hanging displays along the wall, in your face, in the distance, next to you, everywhere. Either this place didn't get a lot of business, or the owner had an impressive inventory.

"There's the desk," Wendy pointed, "Let's see if we can find this skin suit guy."

The group closed the distance to a dark colored wooden desk stretching from side of the shop to the other, hugging the wall so close it left very little standing room. To the right, sat only one door with a sign that said Employee Only on it. Employee, as in, singular. Dipper found that interesting.

For a minute straight, they all stood there patiently, waiting for that single employee to notice them and come from around the corner. It never happened. Everything stood still.

"Should we look around or something?" Pacifica said.

"We could start screaming at the top of our lungs," Mabel offered, "That always works with Mom and Dad."

Soos reached beside the register and retrieved a small, curved bell with a button at the top, "Or we could totally ring this bell," He pressed the button. It made a short, dinging noise. "Ding," Press, "Ding," Press, "Ding," Press.

Soon enough, it became so prevalent a beat started to form. Mabel joined in on the 'ding' chants, Wendy began making her own beat by using her fists as drums, and within seconds, the once silent room became filled with life, getting louder and louder as the tempo increased. Dipper's favorite part was looking beside him at Pacifica and seeing her reaction. He'd seen it before on Grunkle Stan. Every weekend, he tunes in to Real Housewives of Portland to watch nonstop catfights and drama. He sits there with his mouth open mindlessly, sometimes laughing, because yeah, it's stupid and makes no sense, but it's entertaining. You can't look away from it.

When the chants and hand slamming reached an ear bursting limit, the Employee Only door finally burst open, "STOP WITH THE DINGING!"

Everything and everyone froze, all sounds and dings ceased. A standoff ensued between their group and the old man, who was breathing hard and gritting his crooked teeth. He wore a brown suit with a red tie. He had pale, bumpy skin, and a bald crown circled with wiry, frizzy white hair, like a mad scientist. He looked old in the sense that his skin and face were wrinkled from stress and fatigue. His actual age probably fell short fifteen years of the actual number.

Dipper addressed him first, "Are you Mr. Oakle?"

He closed the door and regained his composure, straightening his tie, "Yes. What do you people want? And why were you making such a racket?!"

"We were trying to get your attention," Pacifica snapped, "You should be happy to have customers. By the way this place looks, you don't get many."

Dipper pushed his way to the front of the huddle, speaking before Oakle had a chance to register Pacifica's snarky comment, "Listen, we need a skin suit of this girl right here," He gestured to Pacifica, "Like, an exact replica. The reason isn't important, but we heard from a friend that you might be able to help us. Can you?"

Oakle feigned ignorance, "Skin suits? I don't know what on Earth you've heard, but I don't partake in such nonsense. If you aren't going to buy a real suit, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"C'mon dude, you live right next to Gravity Falls," Wendy said impatiently, "You know exactly what we're talking about. You know how weird that town is. Just help us out."

"I can't help you with anything. Please, just leave."

"Look man," Dipper started, "You don't have to be cautious. We're fully aware of the Weirdness dimension and all the supernatural elements of Gravity Falls. Werewolves, zombies, giants, gnomes, manotaurs, they're all real. We know. We're not tourists."

"Well, technically we are," Mabel corrected, "We don't really live here, we just visit every summer. But it's our home away from home!"

"Not helping, Mabel!"

Oakle raised his raspy voice, speaking over them, "Tourists or otherwise, I don't sell such things here! I sell suits, ties, dress shoes, and whatever else you might need for a funeral or a special occasion. If you are not going to buy such an item, then leave. I won't ask again, I'll just call the police."

Dipper exhaled strongly through his nostrils. If he was telling the truth, he put on a convincing act. If all signs didn't point to this place being in line with the weirdness of Gravity Falls, or in this case, weirdness-adjacent, then he might believe it. Dipper knows better, though.

But he can't exactly rough up the guy and get information. Blubs and Durland aren't the only officers in Roadkill County, and while the others that Dipper has seen don't bear a noticeable difference in dutifulness from the duo, they would still probably arrest him for beating up an old man.

Wendy...didn't share the same concern.

Words weren't working at this point, so she got physical, grabbing a fistful of Oakle's shoulder cloth and pulling him toward her on the counter. With the other hand, she yanked out her cell phone from her jeans pocket, quickly finding what looked like a group picture, zoomed in on a single individual.

"Look, dude, see that? That's my friend Nate. You should recognize him because you made a freakin' costume that looked just like him not long ago! For a guy named Heath? Does that ring a bell?"

Mabel joined in by pulling out her own phone, finding a close-up shot of a posing Shmebulock, jamming it towards Oakle's face and above Wendy's shoulder.

"And that's one of my gnome friends, Schmebulok! I have a bunch of other pictures of weird stuff too to prove that you can trust us!"

Dipper took a step toward Mabel, murmuring under his breath, "Why the heck do you have a picture of Shmebulock flexing?"

"It was for his profile pic on a gnome dating website," She hissed, "He paid me with a Tiger Fist poster, now shush!"

Dipper backed away. Everyone stood in anticipation, waiting for Mr. Oakle to do something. Blink, press a red button, order his skin suits to come to life and capture them, or anything at this point, because if a photographic receipt of one of his models and visual proof of a gnome weren't enough, then they would just have to go home and flip through the journals to find an alternative.

For a few seconds, Oakle studied both pictures pensively, humming in thought. Then, he looked at each of their faces one by one, as if staring into their eyes gave him access to their souls and intentions. At long last, when Dipper had reached his ceiling of suspense, the old man broke out into an unnerving, yellow smile that crinkled his entire face.

"I'm assuming you weren't followed?"

The sudden change in both tone and accent threw everyone for a loop. Wendy released him and backed up, along with Mabel. The group traded glances with each other. A second ago, he appeared as a mostly normal old guy, with a boring, average voice and an unpretentious presence. Now, he equipped this strange, over the top rumble of a voice paired with a...German accent? French? Maybe a bad mixture of both?

Soos was the one to answer the question, his eyes still flickering toward each available glass pane, likely checking for evil scarecrows, "We weren't. I'm pretty good at checking my mirrors. Driver's safety is like, my bread and butter, dude."

"Good." Oakle began moving remarkably fast for someone his age, power walking the perimeter of the store, craning his neck and pressing his face against the left-side windows, then the entrance, and finally the right-side windows. All the while, muttering incoherent babble in short bursts.

"So he is crazy," Pacifica said, "It just took Mabel showing him a troll to bring it out."

"Shmebulock is a gnome," Mabel amended haughtily, "And he happens to be very well-spoken."

"I've met him. He literally says one word."

Oakle reemerged from behind the rotating displays and stood in the center of the shop, holding a small box remote. Dipper didn't see it, but he must've pressed a button on it, because the building immediately reacted, rumbling until black steel walls shot down from the top of each window, slamming on the tiled floor and blocking out all sunlight. The sound reminded him of gunshots, giving an idea of the weight behind the armored barriers. It would probably take all of their combined strength just to lift it chest high.

In other words, they were trapped.

"Now then!" Oakle boomed, "Let's get down to business!"

-x-

Slight cliffhanger there. Next one should be out shortly, though, so don't worry!