Hello, everyone! ShadowMajin here and I'm back with a continuation of my first Gravity Falls story. This one has been rattling around in my head for awhile, but I never really had the motivation to write it until recently. I hope everyone finds it to be as enjoyable as What Happens in Gravity Falls. We all will be finding that out shortly.

I hope y'all enjoy!


Beams of faded light were the only light source. Cavernous rooms forgotten by time were crawling with vegetation that had managed to burrow its way in. Wisps of dust fell from the ceiling.

There was a footstep, followed by another. It echoed through the abandoned hallways and chambers. Then a second set could be heard, then a third, a fourth, and a fifth. A soft glow of light began to slowly light up the dimly lit place.

A number of men in red robes gaped at what they saw around them. The corridors were of some alien metal, odd shapes carved into them, at least the parts that weren't covered by moss and fungus. This whole place had been beneath their feet this entire time, for years, decades, generations. It proved beyond a doubt that there was life beyond their little planet.

"Brothers," one of them announced, drawing their full attention to him. He had an accent that was possibly British, but no one knew for certain, even himself. "We stand here on the cusp of an opportunity. We are here in some advanced craft of unknown origins—I have my money on aliens."

"Put me down fer extraterrestrials," one of the other robed men interjected.

"I got a hundred on this being a UFO," another added.

"Damn, wish I had brought my wallet," yet another said. "I'd bet spacemen were involved in this thing."

The leader stared at them all. "You do realize all of what you said is the exact same thing I said."

"No, you said aliens. I said extraterrestrial," the first better protested. "Those are two different things."

"And how did you come to that conclusion, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Well, extraterrestrial means aliens…from space. Aliens could mean anything, like them illegal ones."

"...those are immigrants, you twit."

"Like I said, aliens."

There was silence. "Semantics aside, there is an opportunity we have yet to discuss, and if the peanut gallery would shut their traps, I could get on with it." The leader glared at them, even from beneath the hood he wore. The others managed to look sheepish, even with their own hoods on. "Now, I am certain you are familiar with the…weirdness of this town. We have met its source and it was overwhelming. We were all changed by it in ways we cannot even comprehend."

"I went completely mad," one of the brothers agreed.

"Yes, yes, we were all there to see it. And because of it, all of us who have gathered here know that this…normalcy that has infected this town is nothing more than a facade. A mask that keeps the true world from coming out. With this ship, we can expose to the entire world just how strange and weird it really, truly is."

Solemnly, the hooded men—and potential woman, you didn't know, they were all wearing the same robes—nodded. Yes, they were all in agreement.

And there was room for growth. What had once started as a single individual feeling odd, strange, out-of-place, soon found others that felt the same way. And then they were many with more than enough robes to go around. There had been this secret room in the back of the library with boxes of these robes with the icon of an eye with an X crossing through it. None of them had known of this place, though maybe they had at one point. There was something strangely familiar about the secret rooms and robes. Maybe they had forgotten about it.

Well, they had taken possession of these robes and had made some alterations. No longer was the eye crossed through, but embellished to be an all-seeing eye. It was the symbol of their new, all-powerful god, the one that had changed them all in ways they couldn't possibly imagine—or want to imagine, because let's face it, the god was a little nuts. Eye-opening, but nuts.

Then their little moment was interrupted. "So what are we supposed to do? Figure out how to fly this thing and show it off?" one of the hooded brothers—or sister, you didn't know, they were all wearing the same robes—asked.

"Look around," the leader proclaimed. "Does it look like this thing will fly? It had been here for eons, or maybe last Tuesday, it's hard to tell. No, we won't be able to expose it that way."

"Then maybe we should invite guided tours down here," another one suggested. "We could put up a ticket booth at the entrance, lead large groups in at nine, eleven, and three, and even have someone pretend to be an alien. We could make a tidy profit."

"I…like where you're going with that. If we are to fail in our endeavor, I would certainly not be opposed to that," the leader said. "But let's go with my idea first."

"And what is your idea?" an annoyed—and more importantly female-sounding—voice spoke up. See, they had a woman in their ranks, or at least one that identified as one. Do not read any further into that if you will.

"This spacecraft is one of a kind," the leader responded. "With technology that surpasses anything we as the human race have ever built. It is my suggestion that we harness this technology and honor our one true god. Let the entire world know just how weird it really is."

"Well, I like the idea, but do you really think we can use these do-dads and thingamabobs?" came the next question. "They certainly look advanced. What if we can't use 'em?"

"Oh, I have a plan for that," the leader said, a knowing tone in his voice. "And I will reveal that once we have all sworn to this cause; the cause of opening the eyes of all those who willingly close them; the cause of opening the ears to all who play deaf and dumb, even if some aren't playing at that second part."

"I swear," one of his brethren immediately swore.

"Me too," came another.

"I'm in," came another.

"Now there are benefits to joining this group, right? I might need some dental work done and having a dental plan would go a long way to getting me on board."

All heads turned to look at the hooded figure that said that. He stared back at them before realizing that perhaps he was asking too much, at least at this time. "Uhh, I mean, you can count on me joining this fine group of fellows."

The leader kept eyeing the hooded brother. There would need to be a long talk about health insurance plans and retirement plans it seemed. "Then we are in agreement. Together, on this hallowed ground, we become one, a band of brothers with the same cause. With secrecy as our weapon, we, the Society of the One Eye, will not fail."

There was a solumn moment of silence as the others basked in the glow of their—

"Is that the name we're going with?"

The leader again found himself looking at one of his followers. Their voices were all different, but they all wore the same thing, so it was hard to tell who was who. They were going to have to number themselves at some point, especially since they had that secrecy thing going on. "Yes, that is the name we are going with."

"Well, I like it. It puts hair on our chests," another brother voiced their approval.

"Not my chest," the female member grumbled.

Well, they were certainly going off the rails here, but what could you do? These were the ones that found they could no longer live the lie that they were forced to live. They had come together, and now they would face the world.

They just needed one thing.


"Hot Belgian Waffles! Come get your Hot Belgian Waffles!"

Ford looked up from the monitor he had been analyzing for some time now. It was a rudimentary radar system of his own design. It hadn't been easy to make, especially with the programming aspect.

But who could turn down Hot Belgian Waffles?

A plate landed right next to him, a waffle steaming on it. There was a slab of butter melting on it, enough to give a grown man coronary arterial disease just by looking at it. There was just one ingredient missing.

Stanley held a pitcher over the waffle and dumped enough maple syrup on it to give three obese people diabetes mellitus. "Just like the neighbors made them," Ford remarked, a whimsical smile on his face.

"You saying there's any other way?" Stanley grunted back. His twin was shuffling over to his chair, where he plopped himself down. He had a little table he set up over his lap, his rounded belly steadying it. He had his own waffle on it plus a cup of coffee, bitter and dark.

Ford was more of a cappuccino man himself, so he avoided Stanely's version of coffee. Even twins could have different palettes it seemed. "If there is another way, then I don't want to know it," he replied as he took notice of a fork and knife. Picking them up, he got to work cutting the waffle in bite-sized pieces.

The two of them were inside the STAN-O-WAR II. This was the main room, which held a small kitchenette, a work area for Ford, and the closest thing to a living room Stanley would get. There were two doors, one that led outside, and one to their sleeping quarters. This had been home since the two of them had left Gravity Falls.

Currently, the two of them were just off the coast of Alaska, the reason being his radar. See, he had programmed it to pick up on extraordinary phenomena. The anomalies he had researched in Gravity Falls made for the template of this device, and after discovering a particular frequency, he was able to detect similar phenomena. It was what led the elderly Pines twins on this voyage of theirs.

And it was what had led them to the northwestern part of the North American continent. The radar had been detecting something and it was up to them to find out what it was.

"How much longer until we get to where we're goin'?" Stanley asked around chunks of waffle.

Ford finished chewing his piece before he answered. That was another thing they didn't share, dining etiquette. Speaking after eating rather than during was polite, something his brother completely ignored. "Not much longer now. Perhaps a day or so."

"Good. I was hoping to catch the kids' next episode."

That caused the six-fingered man to pause. "Is it already that time of the week?"

Stanley looked over from his seat in his comfy chair. There was a knowing smirk on his face. "You got to get your priorities straight. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't know your Mondays from your Fridays."

"Stanley, to you every day is one that ends in Y."

"...I know you're making fun of me, but you're right."

"Just turn the television on. Perhaps they're playing an older episode."

"It's called a re-run, Poindexter."

However, his brother did snatch the remote from its usual resting place on the arm of his chair and he turned on the small television set they had. Black and white static immediately appeared before a picture appeared.

"I am more than a duchess, Mother. I am a woman!"

"Darn it! Wrong channel!"

Ford just held his tongue as Stanley quickly changed the channel. It seemed his brother was still watching that odd royal drama series. He was clearly missing some backstory, so he could never quite understand what was going on it, other than there was a woman who was a duchess who was always standing up for herself against her family, especially when her uncle, the Duke of North Wellinghamptonshireton was trying to marry her off to a mysterious baron who also happened to be…

The scientist blinked his eyes. How had he known all of that? He didn't even watch the show! Was there some sort of twin osmosis happening, where Stanley's thoughts were crossing over to his? What a horrifying hypothesis.

Stanley just continued to change the channel until he found the right one. "Ah, we're just in time," he breathed out in relief.

Ford turned his chair so that he could watch better. One should always avoid turning their head for long periods of time; that's how cervical spine injuries happen.

On the television screen was a dark, desolate street, save for a lamppost. It was shining its light over a figure, who was wearing a trenchcoat. It was hard to see who it was, though the long blonde hair gave it away.

The screen focused and the figure of Pacifica Northwest appeared. She had her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat, a shawl wrapped around her head, and a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. "Look around," she said, her body angled towards the camera, though she had her head turned just enough to give the impression she was looking right at the audience. "This street, this town, all, like, forgotten by everyone. The house behind me, like, had a family that used to live here. Now, it sits empty, abandoned, forgotten by everyone. Just like this town."

"This is definitely a re-run," Stanley surmised.

"But what, like, happened to make this town this way? Did it just, like, wither away and die? Or did something else drive the people away? On today's episode of Lost Pines, we take you to a town that takes its reputation of a ghost town super seriously."

The screen pulled away, causing Pacifica Northwest to move towards the background. Chilling music placed for traumatic effect, even as the title LOST PINES appeared. Underneath it was the words in smaller print, "Hosted by Pacifica Northwest."

And then everything went black only to cut to a screen of an abandoned room. Furniture that was rotting away was situated as if it were expecting visitors. In the middle of the room stood Dipper, holding a small square device in his hands, a long metal antenna reaching out of it.

Like Stanley had said, this was a "re-run," whatever that meant. All Ford understood was that it was an older episode being played again. In this case, Dipper and Mabel were investigating potential supernatural activity that had caused an entire town's worth of people to abandon it. It was an enjoyable one seeing as they had managed to make it a two-parter, this being the first of the two episodes.

How long had it been since they had been told by their favorite nephew and niece that they had somehow finagled a television deal? At least a year or so, Ford felt. Yet, he could see just how excited the younger twins were. They were enjoying themselves searching out the strange and macabre, much like the older Pines twins were. The only difference was that they captured their adventures on camera. Seemed fitting for the younger generation somehow.

"You ever think they'll do an episode in ol' Gravity Falls?" Stanley asked, not even taking his eyes off of the television.

"I sincerely hope not," Ford replied, cutting himself another piece of his waffle. "Dipper seemed reluctant to do so as well."

"Afraid he might scare some people to death?"

"That's entirely possible," he was quick to point out. "I have never filmed a gremloblin, and I shudder to think what could happen if their unique power was captured on camera. They could potentially traumatize half the nation. Or maybe just caused a few seizures, it could go either way."

"You do realize your either-or scenarios are bleaker and bleaker, right?"

"I have come to notice that myself, yes."

Stanley shrugged then. "Part of me kinda wants them to, for the Mystery Shack and all. I would've killed having lines of suckers going out my door. They do an episode there, and it'd be like printing money."

"It would take away from that small town charm," Ford replied. "Imagine all of those tourists flooding the town. All of the locals would be drowned out. Demand for modern establishments would be made until the town becomes one of a billion highway towns that no one ever visits; they just drive through."

"Alright, alright! Forget I said anything!" Stanley exclaimed. "I get it, alright? Talk about your nightmares."

Ford just let that pass. His point had been made and that was all that mattered. But in all honesty, it would be terrible if the entire world learned of Gravity Falls. There were too many strange things that happened there that the average human mind could not handle. There was a reason why a group of locals had gone around making people forget the abnormalities of the town, to the point the townsfolk didn't even recognize the strangeness around them.

But now there existed a coexistence that hadn't been there when he first began researching the town. It was perhaps the only place in the world that it could happen, and directing attention to it would break the delicate balance in place.

Quite frankly, Ford could spin off a multitude of possibilities and even then he wouldn't be certain what the outcome would be.

A beeping sound caught his attention then, drawing him out of his thoughts. Spinning his chair around, he saw a dot on the radar, blinking over and over.

"I've got something!" he announced. "It appears to be…west of here, along the Aleutian Islands. Last I checked, there were a few active volcanoes in the region, so we'll have to be careful. I'll need to dig up my seismograph to make certain we aren't in danger of any earthquake activity. Of course, I'll need to factor in the Ring of Fire and its tectonic activity—"

"Jesus, are you listing everything you possibly need for every scenario that could possibly happen?" Stanley interjected.

"We are in a volatile part of the world, Stanley," Ford retorted. "There are a number of factors they may interfere with our investigation and we need to be prepared for any and all possibilities."

"Can these factors wait until after the kids' show? There's a new episode after this one."

There was silence.

"Well, I suppose they can wait until after the new episode airs."