#AGH MY COMPUTER BATTERY

[ajdrawshq]

on that note. heyy wait no nvm what i was abt to say i think i just found the glitch in the matrix here.. OHHHHH I DID

[farmlesbians]

had my whole day planned out to the minute then my computer battery gave out and it died on me so now. im kinda losing it

[skeletonmaster69]

D:<

[bomberqueen17]

new charger!!!

Agh. So, I eked out a few minutes a day yesterday and the day before, rereading what I’d written in Google Docs on my phone and then opening my computer just to compose new stuff in the doc, and then closing the computer and reading again on my phone. I was busy too, so it was just as well.

I asked Vegetable Manager what kind of Macbook he has, since he has one. He thought, and said, “2014?” Mine’s a 2014, with the Magsafe 2, and he was like “ah that’s what I have!” He only has one charger, though, no spares. And I didn’t see him again to ask if I could plug it in during the day, but-- it’s Chicken Day, I thought, I’d probably ask to plug it in during the afternoon.

I was complaining about it in the morning and one of the apprentices was like, “Oh I have a 2014 Macbook too, and I just got a new adapter and fixed my battery so it lasts, I can loan you one.”

At the end of lunch she got a distressing family phone call, so I figured I’d let her handle that. I went back to VegMan, and he was like “oh right yeah, hang on, well, hm,” and I said listen if you just want to leave your charger where it is and plug my computer in for a while and then if you need it again just go for it?” because he had computer work he had to do in the afternoon.

At that very moment, BIL came in from the porch. “A package arrived,” he said, and I gleefully seized it, looked inside, and it was the new adapter I’d ordered off Amazon on Sunday that had said “arriving Tuesday! (or friday)”

you know that if I had not had two offers of adapters that would never have arrived. But it did. So. My battery is charged and I am saved.

Also we processed like 280 chickens today and i’m really tired but that’s okay.

[for-the-exiled]

Voices

Pairing: ChellDOS, implied Caveline Word Count: 2,295 Continuation of [Nightmares]

[Read on AO3 if you prefer]

“GLaDOS has heard voices her whole life. But for once, the voices she’s hearing are her own. And her conscience isn’t what frightens her the most.”

–

GLaDOS had gone silent for a while, trusting Chell could carry on without her butting in for a while. Since she had been shoved into a potato against her will, weird emotions had begun to surface. They all began to pile up, weighing on the disoriented AI. Every little thing built up to the reveal that part of GLaDOS had once been Cave Johnson’s assistant, Caroline. GLaDOS should have seen it coming. Every miserable emotion could have only come from something as stupid as a human.

But the worst emotion of all to surface, was her building affection for Chell.

In reality, this had all started long ago. Back before she had even been murdered. Chell had caught the AI’s mind early on. GLaDOS could never place what made Chell so special to her, so she assumed the interest was just her seeing Chell as an excellent test subject. But her time spent in a potato had weakened her defenses and made her more vulnerable than ever. This weakness had caused her to face her feelings and the fact that they were deeper than an appreciation for a good test subject.

Part of GLaDOS liked it. The almost intoxicating feeling of watching Chell test up close gave her a sort of guilty pleasure. But the other half of GLaDOS loathed it. This was the test subject who killed her, threw her precious facility into ruin twice now, and got her stuck in a potato. She should only feel pure hate for the woman. And yet, GLaDOS appreciated her still. Chell had been the perfect test subject. And despite her verbal jabs, she knew Chell was fit and saw her as quite attractive.

Those voices, arguing over how GLaDOS should feel towards her former test subject, were the absolute worst. The next worse, however, was her conscience. It voiced the overwhelming regret she felt over her actions to the woman. GLaDOS would never voice any apologies for them herself, at the very least not yet. But that did not stop her from still feeling terrible over the things she said and the actions she took. The voice gnawed at her, leaving her feeling sick with guilt.

‘This is all so stupid. Stupid potato. Stupid Caroline. Stupid moron.’ GLaDOS complained inwardly. ‘If it weren’t for all this I’d still be in my facili-’

Caw! Caw!

The sound of a bird zapped GLaDOS back to the present.

"Agh! Bird! Bird! Kill it! It's evil!" GLaDOS didn’t even try to mask the fear in her voice. The AI saw the gentle, subtle look of sympathy Chell gave her and subconsciously prayed she could save the image with the limited power the potato provided. The woman quickly walked forward, waved her hand lightly, and scared the beast off. It let out a few more caws as it flew away.

"It flew off. Good. For him. Alright, back to thinking." GLaDOS spoke hastily. She wasn’t really going to spend much more time thinking, but she didn’t have much to say. And it wasn’t as if Chell would respond. GLaDOS understood Chell was voluntarily mute, the small murmurs she let out during her brief sleep were enough to prove that. Part of GLaDOS felt sad, longing to actually get a response from the human. To actually be able to hold a conversation with someone she almost saw as equal for the first time in a long time. But that was wishful thinking, and she already felt lucky to get a look other than neutrality or disgust from Chell.

Chell had made her way into the 80’s Aperture lobby, triggering another round of pre-recorded messages. GLaDOS felt a faint pang of sorrow as she heard how ill Cave Johnson had become. The part of her that had been Caroline knew what would happen, how reckless Cave was and how much more so he had become in his efforts to beat Black Mesa. How it would lead to his downfall. How it would lead to GLaDOS…

“The bean counters told me we literally could not afford to buy seven dollars worth of moon rocks, much less seventy million. Bought 'em anyway. Ground 'em up, mixed em into a gel.” Chell kept moving, seemingly not paying attention to the dying man’s words going through the speakers.

"And guess what? Ground up moon rocks are pure poison. I am deathly ill."

Chell hesitated a little, and GLaDOS assumed Cave’s admission of his grim state had thrown the woman off a tad. But Chell continued after only a heartbeat.

"Still, it turns out they're a great portal conductor.” Chell had gotten into the elevator, and the pair began to be raised into the last sphere. “So now we're gonna see if jumping in and out of these new portals can somehow leech the lunar poison out of a man's bloodstream. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Cave’s words were broken up by another coughing fit. “Let's all stay positive and do some science." As the elevator’s doors opened, Chell seemed cautious of the conversion gel being pumped out in front of her.

"That said, I would really appreciate it if you could test as fast as possible. Caroline, please bring me more pain pills." GLaDOS was confused as grief that wasn’t hers washed through her body like a tidal wave. Something had woken inside her… 

‘She has more survival skills than Cave did, I’ll give you that.’ The AI was startled by the voice that did not belong to her.

‘Of course she does. She hasn’t gone through all of this just to get herself poisoned, risking dying before she can even get the freedom she’s messed everything up for.’ GLaDOS watched Chell work with the conversion gel, now avoiding prolonged contact the best she could.

‘I’m just trying to say you know how to pick ones that won't get themselves killed.’ If GLaDOS had been human, she would’ve choked. Instead, she found herself overwhelmed by conflicting emotions and buzzing from the strain on the limited power she had. Once GLaDOS had calmed down, she saw Chell giving her a confused look. The machine would have to explain later.

‘And what is that supposed to mean? Of course I don’t want a test subject that would get themself killed.’ Of course, GLaDOS understood what the voice had meant, but she still had yet how she truly felt. And GLaDOS didn’t want to acknowledge its quip. She felt relief after a few moments had passed without a reply from the voice.

Chell had just jumped into a portal which flung the duo onto the platform she had been making her way to as GLaDOS put her focus back on the woman. Chell was extremely skilled, and it caused a small hum to be emitted from the potato battery. The voices of longing began to seep in, and GLaDOS was glad that Chell did not hear the humming, or at the very least was ignoring it. Soon enough, a new external voice took GLaDOS’s attention and sucked her into its speech.

"All right, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons? Don't make lemonade.”

"Yeah."

“Make life take the lemons back!”

"Yeah!"

”Get mad!”

"Yeah!"

“‘I don't want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these?'"

"Yeah, take the lemons..!"

"Demand to see life's manager!”

"Yeah!"

“Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's going to burn your house down! With the lemons!”

"Oh, I like this guy." GLaDOS added hastily, noticing Chell had been watching her with a confused smirk.

“I'm going to get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!" Cave’s speech was interrupted by yet another coughing fit.

"BURN HIS HOUSE DOWN!” GLaDOS practically shrieked, getting too caught up in the fury of the lemon speech. "Burning people! He says what we're all thinking!" She felt a surge of emotion as Chell gave a silent chuckle at the machine’s, almost exceeding her 1.6 volt limit.

"The point is:” GLaDOS let herself remain silent, hearing that Cave was speaking more calmly. “If we can store music on a compact disc, why can't we store a man's intelligence and personality on one? So I have the engineers figuring that out now. Brain Mapping. Artificial Intelligence. We should have been working on it thirty years ago.” Chell hesitated her movement, seemingly sharing the discomfort of hearing the planning of GLaDOS.

“I will say this - and I'm gonna say it on tape so everybody hears it a hundred times a day: If I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run this place.” If GLaDOS had wanted to speak again, she wouldn’t have been able to. She could feel the voice from earlier stirring again. “Now she'll argue. She'll say she can't. She's modest like that. But you make her. Hell, put her in my computer. I don't care. Alright, test's over. You can head on back to your desk."

"Goodbye, sir." GLaDOS went silent, letting Chell get through to the next door in silence.

GLaDOS now understood what the voice was and why she had responded to Cave’s pre-recorded messages without her choosing to do so. It was Caroline, speaking through GLaDOS.

The machine felt some frustration. So she wasn’t fully Caroline, but just a vessel for the long-gone woman’s consciousness? This realization stung even more than how the Aperture scientists had once treated her. GLaDOS was her own being, and maybe part of her could be attributed to Caroline, but the AI was at the most a reborn form of the woman. She was not the same being as Caroline, and was now enraged by the knowledge she carried yet another voice that couldn’t be gotten rid of just as easily as a personality core. However, this was too much for the potato battery powering her to handle, and GLaDOS ended up short-circuiting.

When she came to, Chell had paused and was staring in confusion and GLaDOS. In turn, GLaDOS found the small hum return, earning an amused look from Chell. GLaDOS needed to bring her attention away from… that.

"I know things look bleak, but that crazy man down there was right. Let's not take these lemons! We are going to march right back upstairs and MAKE him put me back in my body!” Chell started making her way through to the next pumping area, flinging herself onto the large platform leading there as GLaDOS spoke. "And he'll probably kill us, because he's incredibly powerful and I have no plan." Chell paused before continuing forward, letting out a small, nearly silent chuckle that caused GLaDOS to pause as well. The AI cursed internally, wishing she had been able to record it.

"Wow. I'm not going to lie to you, the odds are a million to one. And that's with some generous rounding." Chell nodded, leaping through a portal to get the pair further along in their trek. "Still, though, let's get mad! If we're going to explode, let's at least explode with some dignity." Chell’s face had returned to its determined, but otherwise almost neutral state in response to GLaDOS’s words. However, GLaDOS couldn’t help but notice the small smile that was almost not on the former test subject’s face at all.

The voices started to seep back to GLaDOS, bringing up an odd, sickening mix of guilt and love. GLaDOS felt herself cracking, longing to apologize but feeling too stubborn and above it to do so. But for once, her biggest reason not to was gone. For this moment, the machine had lost any hate she had once felt for the human. And the guilt for her actions certainly didn’t help. But what ate away at her the most was her near certain feelings for Chell, the longing for some form of positive relationship for the woman. But that would require trust and no remaining conflict between the two. She would have to apologize. GLaDOS finally broke when a certain someone spoke up.

‘Just tell her you’re sorry.’

“I’ve been thinking.” Chell slowed her walking as she heard GLaDOS speak up. “Despite how much of a monster you’ve been, and the terrible actions you took to make me do what I did, I’m… sorry.” Chell stopped walking completely to stare at the machine. The two were right in front of yet another one of Aperture’s emancipation grills.

“This stupid potato is making me feel… significantly weaker, so don’t expect an apology ever again. But… I haven’t been any better than you. I can see why you acted out the way you did.” Chell raised an eyebrow at GLaDOS’s apology, however she seemed more amused than skeptical. “I hope you can forgive me, although you’ve arguably done worse and I shouldn’t be asking for it. I would just like to continue forward without any animosity between us.” Chell just rolled her eyes as GLaDOS finished, and then proceeded to do the unimaginable.

She… kissed GLaDOS..?

Certainly the AI was just malfunctioning, perceiving the action wrong or being stuck in a fantasy. However, the contact was real. And luckily enough for GLaDOS, she could feel the woman’s gentle lips against her optic. There was a grating hiss before GLaDOS blacked out, short-circuiting once again from the overwhelming emotion the action caused.

When she came to, Chell was walking calmly to a spot where conversion gel was being pumped onto. The woman’s eyes shifted to GLaDOS as she regained consciousness. Had she been human, GLaDOS would’ve been out of breath. Instead, she had one thing to say to the being carrying her.

“You know you’re confusing, right?”

[rugessnome]

apparently there's an issue with the battery?? It hasn't been plugged in or used in a good 2 years+ and "0% available, plugged in, not charging" X'P

...i got the games supposedly installed but they...didn't work, in that they showed either a gray screen or a near featureless blue one and set the damn resolution to crappy 600x800 or something

pretty sure it still has a sound issue? The last couple times I used it the sound suddenly...wasn't working, and when I tried to go into sound settings to see if I could discern anything, it h u n g X/

looked at old Sith cah chats I had saved, and one of very few fics I have in there, and some old tumblr posts I had left open in a browser and welp that's a familiar feeling and. feels like I had more friends then here but idek? and I seem to have seen Less langblr content in 2018 and idk why; I feel like maybe someone left (waaay before Things Of Recent Time) and maybe it's also timing idek

I put it in sleep cause I couldn't work out how to hibernate it but ?? I'm not sure if that's going to present a problem or not given. the battery issues. (Which it actually notified me of first thing before anything else little charging capacity... although mmm seems almost quiet enough to be off??

[phibixm]

Agh I'm back dogsitting for a couple days & my sister is finally coming home this weekend but ON MY WAY to dogsitting three indicator lights came on in my car and the manual says for each that when they come on take it to the dealer (AS IF), it gives no actual information, and the internet has basically told me I do need a mechanic to plug it into the computer to read codes BUT it also might be a bad battery which would make sense since jiffy lube told me my battery was iffy in January. HOWEVER, my car is FILTHY because I park outside and we're in a drought so I don't wash my car but if I had known I would need to take it to the mechanic I would have washed it!!!! AND THEN, before I found out I was dogsitting I scheduled an ikea delivery for today, so I have to TAKE A LYFT HOME I GUESS and thank god they changed the delivery window from 12 to 4 hours so I don't need to try to bring the dog!!!

[codylabs]

Chapter 27: Farewell Savage Fate

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 2:50pm (you don’t really need to pay attention to the times, they’re there for MY benefit.)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (control room)

-Warning: Intruders have begun Reactor 5 startup. Power output: 5% and rising. Coolant levels sufficient.

-Warning: Intruders have access to all remaining ship systems and engines.

-Input: Assign bioforms 3 and 4 a threat level of 20. Combat preference: Immediate lethal force. You are clear to engage. Take no survivors.

-Threat reassessed. Antimatter pellets loaded and launchers charged. Drones 155, 157, 158, 163, 164, 174, 175 and 179 engaging.

The 8 drones did exactly as they had been instructed, without a briefest moment’s hesitation. They hovered quietly out of the darkness, their eyes fixed on the entrance to the control room, their weapons hot, their minds already visualizing the battle.

Intruder 3, whom friendly faces knew as McGucket, was still busy at the computer, and would not be able to react in time. A single antimatter round could penetrate his torso and explode, killing him instantly. Stan, identified as intruder 4, remained catatonic in the chair; even if he were to wake up now, he would not be able to offer much resistance. Another antimatter round would terminate him.

Two shots. That’s all that was needed. Each drone loaded four for good measure.

But then something happened.

A brilliant flash of blue light lit up the control room. McGucket jumped backwards from the controls, startled and frightened. Did I just do that? This alien tech must be touchier than it looks… But then when he looked hard at the readouts, nothing seemed to have changed… All the settings and feedback were just where he’d left them… But then he noticed something really quite odd: The plasma beam weapon that had been leaned beside him was no longer there. He glanced around. Stan didn’t have it. Where did it go? What happened? It was right he—

The sound of eight simultaneous explosions echoed through the room. He heard debris rattling against the walls from outside, saw a scrap of burned wreckage bounce in past the doors, and shards of plating and chunks of robotic innards clattering to the ground outside.

Stanley was awake in an instant. “HI HEY NO PLEASE SUSAN I COULDN’T…! *Snrf* …Heeeey, can’t a fella get any sleep around here?”

“I dunno whatappened!” McGucket cried, rushing toward the door with Stan on his heels. “Whasappenin’ whatwassat noise whosthere whereintarnashin my death ray run off to?”

They looked out. Stan didn’t remember it being quite so warm and smoky. McGucket didn’t remember there being quite so many burned, smashed piles of robotic wreckage.

He also didn’t remember leaving his death ray out here. Yet there it was, sitting on the floor at his feet, that very same tool he’d misplaced seconds ago.

McGucket picked it up and found that it was lighter; its fuel tanks were nearly empty. And a quick check of the electrical charge revealed that the batteries were almost wasted as well.

The ignition chamber was still warm.

“Well I’ll be a pork-bellied feather-hearted dingleberry… What in the name of me Pappie’s gibberflunked bramblesnippin’ Mississippi combine just happened?”

“You need to keep better track of that thing.” Stan told him.

“Did you just do that just now?” McGucket asked.

“Did who do huh? Did something happen?”

“Wha--? But… The thing…? Oh my, lookit these poor robits…”

Stan made a long string of confused grunkley noises. “Welp, I’m in over my head. You got a brother I could call? I mean… A phone I could brother? I mean… Agh, can’t talk today. Hey waitaminute, where are the kids?”

“Yeh can’t get service down here…” McGucket reminded him. “Oh yeah, and them two teenagins said they’s was curious ‘bout somethin’, and ran off that-a-way.” He pointed off into the darkness.

“…Aaaagh. Dumb kids. Don’t they know there’s killer robots down here? …Okay; so you’re sure something blew all these things up?”

“Well yeah, an’ I think it may’ve used my plasma beam ta do it!” McGucket objected. “But I can’t rightly figger how they got it right out from under my nose, or ‘ow they did it so fast. Y’know this thing needs a moment to prime, a little bit ta charge, and even longer ta cool down, so it woulda taken a while ta do all this, but I believe I heard the events occur simultaneously, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, listen, pal I’ve been living in a cramped ship’s cabin with my nerdy brother for the better part of a year now, and I have developed an extremely short fuse for technical mumbo-jumbo. So here’s how it is: if somethin’s weird, you say ‘somethin’s weird’ and stop there. Savvy?”

“Err… Sorry… Somethin’s weird.” McGucket said.

“Great. Weird. We know weird. We can handle weird. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with weird.” Stan pulled the doors closed behind them as they stepped into the control room. “Now. In case some maaaaagical death-ray-stealing mischief fairies wanna pay us another visit, I’ll leave it open a crack so we can hear ‘em coming.”

“Sounds good…” McGucket wrung his hands together as he stepped back up to the console. “Well… Actually, I think I got the programmin’ all finished. The reactor should be workin’ again. The gravitational nacelle has been calibrated to focus on the Forest of Daggers, and-”

“So what yer SAYIN’ is…” Stanley crossed his arms. “This whole joint’s gonna get weird once ya push that big red button.”

“…Yeah.”

“Better wait ‘till the kids are back then.”

“…I could run it through a test sequence…” McGucket scratched his chin. “Bring the core up to 50% output ta test for malfunctulations and stir up some noise; get ‘em back here faster.”

“Yeah. Great. Do that.”

McGucket hit the big red button.

It started quiet and built in intensity; an enormous, rumbling sort of hum, which thundered through the frame of the ship, shaking the walls, steadily overcoming all lesser noise.

McGucket turned it off again after a minute.

Stan adjusted his hearing aid. “That was a little loud.” He understated.

“Yeah, well, I reckon the coolant compressors had some corrosion, and the hydraulics were nearly rusted shut, so that’s my guess as to why…”

“Geez, you just take any little thing as an excuse to start in on it, don’t ya?” Stan grunted.

“Sorry.”

A noise from beyond the door interrupted them. It sounded like gunfire. From a raygun. Raygunfire.

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” Stanley picked up a weapon, and marched for the door. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

But when he levered the hatch open, he froze in surprise.

“Ford?”

“Stanley?”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 4:30pm (it doesn’t really matter when this was, but plotwise it happened before.)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack (time and place where Sam happened to locate Ford)

Mabel stared up at the shapeshifter for a minute. Then she blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. Yeeeah, that’s him alright.

She didn’t know why he was here, who let him out of the bunker, or what he was doing here. To be honest, she hadn’t even a faint inkling of what the heck happened at all while she was asleep. Gee whiz, spend one afternoon in a coma, and now the single nastiest and scariest monster I’ve ever met is right in here in the Shack… She had quite a lot of questions, but Great Uncle Ford or anybody was nowhere around to answer them. There was only this creature, this hideous, frightening… Thing.

Oh well.

She may as well just ask.

“Hi guy!” She smiled, forcing a smile onto her face. Be Mabel. She thought. Just like Dipper told you. Be Mabel. Think good thoughts… This IS gonna end up okay. One way or another. “How’s it going?” She asked, as her cheery words forced past her fear. “When did you get here?”

Sam hadn’t been expecting a question like that. In fact, he hadn’t expected even a hint of this cheery disposition. Unsure of how to react, he found himself answering candidly. “Twenty minutes ago…”

“Okay! Uh…!” She hopped down from her chair and stretched her sore neck as she glanced around the room. “Have you seen my Great Uncle? He was just here I think.”

“…He’s gone.”

She blinked. “Well yeah, I can see that; did you see where he went?”

“I think I kindnapped him.” He heard himself answer truthfully again.

“Whaaaat…?” Mabel frowned up at him skeptically. “How in pig’s name are you not sure if you kidnapped somebody?”

“Well, I…” Sam blinked down at the little girl. “…He disappeared. I’m sure it was me who did it, or who will do it. And… I… Uh.” He looked down at the yellow time machine in his hands, and felt himself descending ever deeper into confusion.

Mabel followed his eyes. Her jaw dropped and she gasped loudly. “What…! You! Wha! That’s no tape measure! THAT’S A TIME MACHINE! You have a time machine! You really have one! For real! Where’d you get it?”

“Y-yes. I… My mother gave it to me, I—”

“You have a mother?!? What’s she like?!?”

“I-wha-hey!” He finally found his focus again, reminded himself that he was in charge, and drug the conversation back on-topic. “YES. I have a time machine.” He repeated, clicking his teeth. “And I’ve been using it to remake my life as I will… I took Ford, I outsmarted all of you, and now, I have everything I want…”

Before she had time to feel intimidated, Mabel started talking again. “This is so awesome…!” She smiled, as her brain but together a plan. “Yes… YES! With a time machine, we can save him! It’s perfect! This fixes everything! We have a TIME MACHINE! Man, your mom must be AWESOME! Is it your birthday? Or is it Christmas? Do aliens have Christmas in June? Summermas? Where did she buy it?”

“…Calm down.” Sam frowned at her.

“Saaaay new friend, could I actually borrow that thing for a minute?” Mabel pleaded. “It’s really really reallyreallyreallysuperduper important.”

“Calm down.” He repeated.

“I’ll give it right back and everything!” She promised as she reached for it. “But my brother kind of died a couple days ago so I really need to save him. It’s really kind of urgent so would that be alright? You could come too if you want!”

“QUIET!” He reached out a hand and pushed her away. She stumbled right over on the floor, and almost hit her head on the corner of a table as she went over. Sam blinked, surprised. Oops. She’s weaker than I thought. I almost hurt her; I didn’t mean to hurt her… Wait, why DIDN’T I mean to hurt her? Of course you mean to hurt her! You’re HERE to hurt her…!

“You’re a fool.” He growled out loud. “You’re asking me to loan you this? To save your brother?…” I’m here to hurt her. “Don’t you know who I am and what I’ve done?”

She stared at him blankly. “Well… Yeah, you’re the shapeshifter guy…? You kinda--”

“My name is Sam, and I’m your enemy.” He explained. “And as for what I’ve done, did you know your brother’s death was no accident?” He held up the machine. “I just used this to kill him, stupid. He’s dead because of ME. And I’m proud of it. Because I hated him.”

Mabel eased slowly up to a sitting position in one corner of the room, and then even slower to her feet. “Oh…” Her voice became small and flat, as she considered this latest revelation for a minute. “Oh.” She finally repeated.

He nodded. “Now what do you think of that?”

“Well… Uh…” Mabel’s shoulders shuddered briefly. “That’s… Kind of… Mean.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he’d heard that right. “Mean.”

“Yeah, pretty mean…” Mabel informed him. “Like… Pretty selfish too… Most people would be… Nicer than that.”

The two little orifices on the top of his head emitted a snort. Mabel supposed that they must be his nostrils. “Are you… Brain dead?” He asked, as his fangs clicked in amusement. “You do realize what I’m saying, don’t you? That I killed your brother in cold blood? That I’m going to kill your uncle? That your own fate is subject to my whim…? You do understand… Don’t you?”

Mabel wrung her hands inside her sweater sleeves. “…Yeah.” She said. “I get it.”

“…Then why aren’t you thinking dark thoughts?”

Dark thoughts…

Mabel recognized those words. Robbie once said those words. The day that Dipper died, Robbie had stolen her joy with those words. The day she’d brought Robbie along on her happy little adventure, and sent him down into the bunker, he’d come back with those words… Mabel finally put it all together.

“Oh…” She said. “That wasn’t Robbie, that was you… That was when you got out…” Her voice got small. “I let you out.”

“Give the young lady a prize.”

“Uh… Oh… I’m really sorry… I mean! Uh, no, not sorry, I mean good for you! Hi! Welcome to the surface world! Uh… Ooh. Gee. Awkward…”

There was silence for a moment in the room, as the girl and the monster looked at each other, neither one precisely sure what next to do or say. Finally Mabel spoke up again.

“So… Uh… Besides for killing people, what are you doing?” The girl asked. “Like… I’m still kind of confused, and time travel is really complicated so… What’s going on?”

Sam looked at her.

“Well…” He started. “I was just taking care of some business. Making sure that things happened the way they were supposed to. Making sure I got to where I am today. Controlling your very lives.”

“…You can’t control my life.” Mabel frowned.

“Oh, but I can. In fact, I already have… Do you remember this?” He produced a small metal box, popped it open, and removed the robot kitten, of all things.

“Oh… Uh… Hi Juan!” Mabel waved at the little metal creature.

Sam stuffed it unceremoniously back in the box. “You loved it so much that I can use it to manipulate you. I saved it when your family tried to kill it… And now… Oh, I have a wonderful idea! What if I were to give it back to you the next night, with a note attached to it that said you needed to take action? What if that was the spark that lit the fire inside you? What if that were the reason you first launched on your hairbrained quest and accidentally freed me? What if…”

Sam walked over to one of the computers in Ford’s study, and booted it up. When a data entry program appeared, he began to type. “How about it? Am I talking nonsense, or truly writing history here?” He finished typing, and hit another button.

A nearby old-timey printer began to chatter, and it noisily emitted a single small piece of paper. “There!” Sam held up the note and shoved it in Mabel’s face. “Is that the note? Does that sound like something nice enough to get you to do something stupid?”

Mabel read it.

Enjoy the time you have with him.

Because it’s not right for him to stay here long.

Find a good place for him, Mabel. We believe in you.

Be wise and loving. Be his hero. Save his life.

Mabel read it a second time.

“Uh…” She mumbled. “Yeah… That’s the note… Hmm. Oh.”

“Well then.” Sam pulled out the time machine, and disappeared in a flash of light.

Mabel blinked and stared at the place where he’d been standing.

She took a step back, and found herself all the way in the corner of the room.

I always just thought it was an honest, well-meaning invisible wizard who did that. She pounded her forehead with her fists. I just thought ‘hey, there must actually be some decent, happy people somewhere in the world’… But it was all a lie. Everything I did, it was just a random, convoluted, pointless wild goose chase that accomplished nothing except ruining everything.

But… Wait… If Sam DIDN’T give me that note, then I WOULDN’T have done anything, and I WOULDN’T have freed him and he WOULDN’T have given me that note! …But since he DID give me that note, I DID free him, so he DID give me that note… It’s just a weird random circle that happened for no reason except itself! Dang it time travel! Why you gotta be so complicated?!?

…Well… Actually, this entire thing relies pretty heavily on me being stupid. I was so bent on being kind, so determined to find niceness and happiness where there was none, that I turned my brain off entirely.

So if at any time I’d just decided to use my head, then that would’ve been it. And it wouldn’t have happened.

If the time loop ever DID had a cause, then that cause was me.

…

Dipper, what do I DO?

There was another flash of blue light, and Sam was standing there again.

“And that’s it.” He spread his arms grandly, like a magician would after the completion of a spectacle. “I’ve been hopping around doing whatever I please, killing whoever I please. And that’s why your uncle’s gone too. Soon as I’m through with you, I’ll head back in time, take him away, and do as I will…”

“Yeah…” She whispered. “I see.”

“It all fits.” He told her. “I did it. It’s been a complicated equation, but I’m the answer. I’m the end. And that’s what’s happening.”

Mabel bit her lip and squeezed back tears.

You need to be stronger, Mabel. Dipper’s words whispered in the back of her memory. No matter what happens, to me or anybody else, we need you to be strong. Strong enough to hold together when something hits you. Tough enough to take a thousand hits and never break. Be hopeful. Be loving. Be cheerful, and caring, and good… Be that way forever. With or without me. That’s what we need you to do…

Mabel took a deep breath. In an instant, she knew exactly what she had to do. I have a job. She remembered. Fate has a job for sweet, happy, trusting little Mabel, and I’m the only one that can do it.

Time to do it.

“Hey Sam.” She said.

“What?”

“I’m…” She wiped her eyes and struggled to hold her voice steady. She really was afraid. “Uh… Why you haven’t killed me? …Do you like me?”

“I— What?” He grew a couple inches taller and snarled. “I don’t like you.”

“Eh… Well! I mean!” Mabel stuttered. “I mean you must have hated Dippingsauce a lot to kill him, but with me you’re just standing there, so that means you don’t hate me. I mean you don’t have a reason to hurt me and you don’t really want to. And that’s why you don’t. So yeah, so right, so there.”

There was silence for a minute in the darkened room.

Sam hadn’t thought about it like that before. But now that it came down to it, he realized it was true… He didn’t hate her.

He remembered his mother. How she treated everything like an object, or a tool. In all things she acted shrewd, cruel, pragmatic and level. She hurt and killed anyone that ever crossed her, never hesitated to stoop to the sickest, most murderous depths to gain any advantage. Power was the name of her game, and strength was its only rules. That made sense to Sam. That fit with what he knew and had seen. That was the only way it ought to be.

When he realized that he himself didn’t hate somebody… It felt like weakness. Why don’t I hate her?

Why AM I even talking to her, anyway?

What am I trying to do?

He’d come here for revenge; to destroy even the memory of everyone who’d been responsible for what happened to him: Stanford Pines, Fiddleford McGucket, Dipper Pines, Wendy Corduroy…

And he’d also wanted to find his people, so that he would no longer be alone. But now that he knew what it meant to be a part of his own family, now I know what his mother expects of an ally, Now… It seemed to him that he hated her as much as he hated the rest of his enemies.

But that was also none of Mabel’s business.

Sam opened his mouth to growl something, but the girl was already talking again. “I dunno about you, but I want a happy ending!” She stated. “And I bet deep down you actually want to help me! Because really everybody wants everything to turn out alright. So do you think there’s any chance you could have a change of heart and start being a good guy instead of a bad guy anytime soon?”

Sam blinked as if in shock, having a hard time believing that such a train of thought could even exist. “…Really…?”

“Come on!” Mabel pleaded. “I know you can’t be all bad! You let me sit on your lap and drive when you were pretending to be Robbie! And how about Tambry? She’s been on her Facepage account, and her Bumblr account, and her Chirper account, and all her accounts all week really, talking about how great the concert was and how great Robbie was but you were Robbie!”

“I had to learn to operate a vehicle.” He explained. “You were the only one around with a rudimentary understanding. That wasn’t you sitting on my lap, that was me tricking you into teaching me. And as for Tambry, I needed to blend in. Killing and eating her wouldn’t have blended in.” Wait, what am I doing? Sam demanded of himself. Am I trying to justify myself to HER? Trying to convince her that I AM a monster?

If you want to convince her of THAT. Another thought intruded on his mind. Just kill her. Remember who and what and where you are. You’ve got places to be and things to do. Standing here chatting with a teenage girl is wasting precious seconds. You were right in the middle of your revenge!

“Well yeah but you still did let me sit on your lap!” She once again interrupted him. “And you still were extra nice to Tambry even when you didn’t have to; so how about it? Maybe you were even happier when you were nice to people! I don’t know, but maybe down deep inside you’re actually a nice person! And the only little problem is that you’re just really angry and mean and evil and think it’s alright to do terrible things, but you’re actually nice… You know, like Beauty and the Beast or Doofenshmirtz or Count Bleck!”

Sam stared at her.

Mabel swallowed quietly.

I have a job to do.

It all led up to this. It all wraps up in this. It all ends now.

She told her foot to take a step forward, but it hesitated. Come on, move you stupid leg! She silently shouted. I need you forward! The place where you aren’t! Just move movemove come on move! Sure it looks like a monster up there, but it’s really a person somewhere inside, a person who needs his justice too! Come on, this is it! Take a step! Her leg wasn’t used to being yelled at, and finally obeyed.

Then she told her other foot to take a step too. It hesitated as well, but obeyed just like the other. She could hear her own heart beating, and knew she had to keep talking so that fear wouldn’t drive her right back.

“S-s-so how about it, Sam?” She asked, and with a monumental effort forced a smile onto her face. “Maybe… Maybe we could work together to make everything right again! Maybe you don’t have to be the bad guy, maybe you don’t have to be alone, or sad, or angry… Maybe everything could be okay if you just stop thinking dark thoughts…”

She was close enough to touch him now. Close enough to smell his breath. Close enough that he could injure her by no more than flinching. Close enough to make out every detail of his creepy, slimy body. Close enough to even hug him.

“Come on, Sam…” She said. “Don’t you want a happy ending?”

In spite of himself, Sam considered it.

He weighed all sides of the issue. He remembered all the evil that had been done between him and this family he was killing. Stanford and Fiddleford’s experiments, and the years spent locked underground. Dipper and Wendy’s attempts at his life… But in return… There was everything he’d done back to them… So Sam then wondered about forgiveness: could this family forgive him? And could he forgive this family? Was forgiveness possible after things such as this? Could there ever be peace?

…And were friends something he ever wanted? He remembered the time spent with Tambry. Indeed, the best week of his life had been the one where she loved him; where he had people around to laugh and joke and eat and sing with. Nowhere, in all the revenge and violence or deceit since, had he ever tasted anything as sweet as love…

…But would any of it be worth it, to forsake the destiny his mother had laid out for him? She would have him live a life of lies, violence, malice… And with that life would come strength, power, greatness… A chance, perhaps, to one day return to his people, even earn their respect. He could earn allies, powerful allies. He could have anything he wanted…

Anything he wanted…

But what if peace was what he wanted?

Sam thought about these matters.

And then he made his decision.

He raised his hands in the air, and brought them down hard. Mabel’s body broke and twisted and came to pieces as he smashed her to death. And each blow brought more resolution, more clarity, more confidence to his soul, as he knew then and there exactly the type of man he was. But it also broke his heart, for he knew that he was throwing away what could be his one and only chance at honest friendship.

In that moment, he hated himself more than he had ever hated another, so that he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and longed more than anything in the world to change his decision. But there was no going back on it now; he had sealed his soul and his fate, with a sin so cruel and monumental that could not be undone, even within his own mind. And with this burden on his heart, he turned and left the lab, to continue a life that led ever deeper into darkness.

At least.

That’s exactly what would have happened.

But instead, before he made his decision, while he still thought about these matters, he was distracted. And while he was distracted, Mabel’s hand darted forward, and plucked the time machine out of his hand.

The action was so quick, so nimble, and so utterly unexpected, that he didn’t even have time to react until she was already gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

Already gone.

- Time:

- 2013 A.D. (somewhen)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack

The ethereal blast of the time-jump left her disoriented as her feet touched down in Ford’s study in some other distant time. She wasn’t sure exactly when she was, she just knew that she was safe.

It worked. Mabel gasped.

As soon as she was sure, her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the cold wooden floor, crying and shaking and maybe even laughing just a tiny little bit. “I’m sorry…” She blubbered. “I’m sorry Sam… I’m sorry… I lied… You…” She choked. “You don’t get a happy ending you gross, fat, lying, murdering, poop-headed JERK! …You killed my brother… Nobody… Nobody gets to do that… Nobody… Nobody… Nobody…”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 2:50pm (about the same time, maybe a little before)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (some place on the way back from the Shifter’s lair)

The close metal walls of the alien ship creeped with slime, rust, and decay. In every direction they stretched, great decrepit monoliths interwoven with deliberate purpose by beings long since dead. The trusses and members of the walls curved over and beneath and around the hallways, like the uneven, bloated ribs of some monstrous, shapeless corpse. The rays from the headlamp reflected strangely off the faded metal surfaces, casting shadows shaped like reflections, and reflections shaped like shadows.

It was a scary place on its own. Human minds have always guarded a natural fear of the strange and unknown, and this environment seemed designed to foster such unease. Any pillar might seem to hide an enemy. Any dark area might conceal death. Everything but the very nearest walls were a mystery, forgotten since time out of mind.

Wendy should have been afraid.

But this place wasn’t strange or unknown to her any more. She understood it, and the very real, very dangerous threats that inhabited it: the cold reckoning and electronic reflexes of patrolling security machines, and the wily, bloodthirsty intelligence of a timeless, formless beast. There was a reason, she knew, that this place had gone unnoticed for so very long: everybody who ventures inside was killed. Murderous natures did lurk around every corner. Fear was never irrational.

Wendy should have been afraid.

And yes, she did want out of here.

Yes, she wanted nothing but to return to peaceful places, to be reunited with loved ones, and to lie quietly at home in the light, far from harm and the burden of destiny and violence.

Yes, she was in phenomenal pain.

Yes, she was probably bleeding out.

Yes, she was trying very hard to keep her eyes open, because she knew that if she bent over and fell asleep now, she would never awake.

But she wasn’t afraid.

Not even a little.

Not anymore.

Her slow, limping trudge was interrupted by a quiet noise from somewhere up ahead. A pair of security drones hovered around a corner and fixed her with their unwavering red stare. Beneath their smooth surfaces, all manner of weapons charged and readied.

But their sensors swept her, and found none of the usual chemical markers of hostility. They saw her calm. Perhaps one of them sent a request to the security officer, asking for input on how to deal with this subject. But the officer never responded.

“Don’t even try it.” Wendy muttered up at their unhearing stares. “She’s already dead. And I’m already gone.”

She never stopped walking. And the drones did nothing but watch as she approached, watch her pass between them, and watch her backside as she continued on her way.

Soon now… So soon, and it would all be over. Once she finished her tasks and closed all the time loops, she would be free to undo all of history. Return things to the way they were supposed to be. Return to peaceful days free of sickness. Return to the nights when she could sleep easy. Return to a time when killer robots were the worst she had to deal with.

Return to the mission.

Return to him.

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 4:28pm (less than a minute after Sam’s appearance)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack

Ford didn’t honestly have time to put together what all was happening. All he knew was that somehow, the shapeshifter was right here in the Shack, his niece was helpless and asleep behind him, and this thing is a much faster than I…

Strong hands grabbed him by the collar and hurled him headfirst toward the wall. He winced instinctively to prepare for the impact, as he reached for a weapon hidden in his coat.

Then there was a flash of blue light, and he didn’t hit the wall; he hit Mabel.

They both went into a pile on the floor.

“OOF! HEY! WHAT?!?”

Mabel stood back up unharmed and ecstatic. “It worked! It worked!” She blared like a siren. “I saved you! It worked!”

“Umm! Uh! Agh! What’s happening?” He staggered to his feet and drew the gun. He saw the shapeshifter standing in the middle of the room, frozen mid-throw… And he saw that Mabel was still where he’d left her, asleep in the chair. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure who he should be aiming at: the frozen shapeshifter, or the mysterious second Mabel?

Before he could do either, the mysterious second Mabel had her arms wrapped tightly around his hips, squeezing him in a tight hug and jumping up and down at the same time.

“I can’t believe I did it! It worked! It worked! I time-traveled like an expert pro and I froze time and I saved you! At first I was confused because time machines should just have only two buttons, for forward and backward, but instead it had a bunch of other buttons and one of them said ‘FRZ’ which I first thought stood for ‘Fat Rolling Zebras’ but then I realized it stood for ‘FReeZe’ as in ‘freeze,’ so I tried it out and time froze so here we are, and I’m sorry when I’m excited I tend to deliver exposition in really long unbroken sentences!” She finally took a breath. “But anyway it’s like destiny or something! IT WORKED!”

Ford poked his fingers up under his glasses to rub his eyes, then tried to compose himself as he waited for the spots to clear. He took a deep breath. He was still sick with a high fever, and still running on about 2 hours of sleep; not the best conditions to go on any type of adventure, let alone making sense of whatever the heck this was. “Okay.” He said anyway. “I think I got it, but just in case… Would you remind repeating all that again? Significantly slower this time please.”

Sam stared at the place where Mabel had disappeared, having taken his fate, his hope, and his one possession with her.

He had been tricked.

But he was not unintelligent. He was not unfamiliar with the way time travel worked. He knew in an instant what this meant.

It meant that she was going to save her uncle. That had been the real reason he disappeared. It was her who’d taken him, not to kill him as Sam would have, but to save him. Now that Sam’s greatest, oldest enemy had access to the tape, Sam realized that he could be easily killed at any time. Just as I killed the boy. At any point they could freeze the flow of time, and appear among that breach in the flow with a deadly weapon at the ready. I won’t see anything. I won’t feel anything. At any moment now, any moment at all, I’ll see a flash of bluish light, and when it fades, I will stand with a mortal wound.

Any moment now���

Any moment now, and the good guys will win.

Any moment.

Sam stared at the place on the floor.

He imagined Mabel standing there again, and tried to think what he might try to say to her if he could. What could he say? Could he apologize? Could he beg? Could he undo time and give her back her beloved brother? No… Yes… No… Perhaps… If only she were here again… Oh, who am I kidding? If she were here again, the only smart option would be to kill her again…

Then he imagined Stanford there, and tried to rehearse what he might say to him. Could he reason with him? Could he accuse him? Or just beg for mercy all over again; beg to be consigned to another terrible life in a cold prison beneath the ground? It would be so much better than death… ANYHING was better than death. Anything but that cold, dark, mysterious hell… No… No, if Ford were here, I would just attack him again. Because I will not suffer prison again. Never, not again, not one minute more. Death, any death, would be better than that.

He imagined Tambry there. What the devil could he say to her? Perhaps, before he died, he would have liked to tell her that he really did love her. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but he wished so badly that it was. Most of all, he would’ve just liked to thank her for loving him, and for leading him through the one beautiful week he’d ever had in his life; the one he’d spent in the light. That, he knew, was true. Oh, Tambry… If you were here… I could tell you that I did indeed love you… But if you were here, you would finally see me for who I really am, and then you would hate me, just like all the others. You would hate me for being a monster. And I would kill you and possibly eat you, because… Because…

Why? Why are you so bloodthirsty, Sam? Why is every inclination of your soul only evil all the time? How did you come to be the monster that you are? What foul soul did you inherit from that psycho mother of yours? What black deeds must she and her kind have done, far away and long ago, so black and pitiless and cruel that they echo right down to you…?

Then he imagined his mother there.

And he couldn’t imagine a single thing he could possibly say to her. He couldn’t even bring himself to meet her eyes. He bowed his head.

“You’re weak.” In the back of his mind, he heard his mother’s words whispering down at him. “If you were strong, you could have killed him when you were a child. If you were strong, you could have escaped. If you were strong, you could have killed them all. If you were strong, you could have been worthy to stand, worthy to be called my son. If you were strong… If you were strong… If you were strong…

If I was strong…

Sam couldn’t cry. His eyes didn’t naturally have any tear ducts, for his body was slimy enough already. And he couldn’t’ scream. He’d never screamed before, only roared or snarled. But those were sounds for anger, for fight-or-flight, for pain of the body. He didn’t know what sound to make for this pain of the soul, or for this incredible, overpowering mortal fear. He knelt down on the floor and he wondered if he could pray at least.

Dear God.

Dear God…

…

God, I hate you too.

There was nothing else to say, nothing at all.

But a song did come to mind.

It was an old, classic song, one that McGucket used to play 30-something years ago, down in the lab on an old record player. It was long ago in Sam’s youth, and he hadn’t quite understood the meaning of the words back then. But he recalled them now, and now he understood. Indeed, it seemed as if it had been written for him, so he quietly recited it.

“Well, my name, it is Sam Hall, Sam Hall.

Yes, my name, it is Sam Hall, it is Sam Hall.

My name it is Sam Hall, and I hate you one and all.

And I hate you, one and all,

Curse your eyes.

…

I killed a man, they said, so they said.

I killed a man, they said, so they said.

I killed a man, they said, and I smashed in his head.

And I left him lying dead,

Curse his eyes.

…

But a-swinging, I must go, I must go.

A-swinging, I must go, I must go.

A-swinging, I must go while you critters down below,

Yell up, “SAM I TOLD YOU SO!”

Well curse your eyes.

…

I saw Mabel in the crowd, in the crowd.

I saw Mabel in the crowd, in the crowd.

I saw Mabel in the crowd and I hollered, right out loud,

“Hey there Mabel, ain’t you proud?

Curse your eyes.”

…

Then the sheriff, he came to, he came to.

Ah, yeah, the sheriff, he came to, he came to.

The sheriff, he come to and he said “Sam, how’re you?”

And I said, “Well, sheriff, how’re you?

Curse your eyes…”

…

My name is Samuel, Samuel.

My name is Samuel, Samuel.

My name is Samuel, and I’ll see you all in hell.

And I’ll see you all in hell.

Curse your eyes…”

He shifted one of his hands into a long, bony stinger. And he placed it under his chin. He lowered the bone density in his skull so that it would be easy and painless.

“…And I’ll see you all in hell…

…Curse your eyes…”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 3:05pm (one hour previously)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (last known location of Wendy, Stan, McGucket, and Robbie)

A short time jump, a two-mile walk, and a seemingly endless ladder later, Ford and Mabel found themselves slowly and stealthily progressing through the engine room of the alien spacecraft. Mabel’s story mulled around in Ford’s head, while worry and anger built up in his chest.

“Wow, this place is creepy. How come you never brought me down here? Are there lots of aliens? It’s dirty down here. They must have run out of soap. And did they invent sparkles on their world? We need to take them to our glitter. Wow, di-”

“And you’re sure the Valentino boy was replaced?” Ford interrupted.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “You’re sure that he went down here with everyone?”

“Yes…” Ford hissed. His worry increased with the darkness and the silence and their depth beneath the ground, and his anger increased with Mabel’s constant talking and chattering and cheeriness. Why couldn’t she just calm down and be quiet? Didn’t she realized the danger wasn’t yet passed?

Eventually, the walls began to shake, and a great noise filled the air. Ford pulled Mabel for cover, and they sat there together in the dark, waiting for the noise to pass. Ford realized that it must be McGucket; he must have gotten the ship’s reactor working again… At least he hoped it was him… He hoped his friend was still alive, still in control… One worry on top of another.

“So what are we doing down here, again?” Mabel asked.

Ford’s patience was growing dangerously thin.

“We.” He growled. “Need to find the others, and warn them about the shapeshifter. There’s no telling where and when it has been, or what it did, before you trapped it. It could have been here right at this very moment…!”

“That last sentence was pretty confusing, but okay, I’ll be quiet!” Mabel whispered a little too loudly. “Wait, hold on, when are we right now? Are we in the present?”

“Every time is the present when you’re in it.” Ford rolled his eyes. “It’s a subjective term.”

“Brain hurting…”

“To answer your question, we’re about an hour before you stole the time machine from it. With any luck, that will prevent it from seeing us coming.”

“Hmm… Okay, yeah, but actually, I think he’s a ‘he’ not an ‘it’. I mean since he has a soul and everything.”

“What?”

“Right? I mean, living underground for so long probably made him really sad and angry. And now that he’s out, he got a name, and a mom, and he really started to… You know, really become his own person and everything… Like, his revenge is wrong and everything, but it still makes sense…”

“The… The… The ability to think…” Ford stuttered. “D-d-doesn’t make you a person. Neither does the ability to lie. But that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that we find everyone else, get them to safety, and get out again without being seen by something worse…”

“Stealth mode… Activated.” Mabel pulled her sweater up over her nose, and combed her hair into a ninja mask.

Ford paused to stare at her. “…Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better at least!” He suddenly burst. “You know, for a girl who just lost her brother to a murderous monster that she unleashed herself, you’re acting awfully chipper, you know that?”

That hurt.

But Mabel was used to hurt after all this. She’d already reached rock bottom today. Rock bottom was a terrible place to be… But Dipper had met her there. He’d still loved her there, and he’d helped her rise back up.

“He forgave me.” Mabel said.

Ford lost his temper as he stood up and continued down the passage. “Then he’s a BETTER MAN than I!”

That hurt even more.

Mabel was silent from that point on.

And Ford pushed onward, trying to ignore his own guilt, as he wondered if perhaps he was the one the shifter truly hated. Perhaps all of this was just an elaborate, contrived ploy to get back at him… Perhaps it’s all my fault. Perhaps that really was an intelligent creature I locked in my lab for all those years. Perhaps if I’d treated him as an equal, or a friend, or a child, then… No. NO! It’s an ‘it’! It’s evil! It killed! And it will kill again! Ford pushed his guilt, and his doubt, and all other cluttering, pointless thoughts toward the back of his mind. And he promised to think about it later; sometime when everything was safe. Sometime when he could afford to waste even a single moment on such thoughts. Sometime when real people, when humans, when family, weren’t in danger of death.

Finally, a dim yellowish light appeared not far ahead, reflecting green off the bluish walls. They rounded one last corner to find the light shining out through a crack in a heavy metal door; Ford recognized it as the entrance to the control room. Somebody must still be inside. Please be Fiddleford and Stan. Please be alive…

But then Ford noticed something very odd: this hallway had been rather empty the last time he’d been down here. But now it was messy; cluttered with debris and broken machinery and thousands of shards of shattered glass. He motioned Mabel to a standstill, and pulled out a magnet gun as he bent to inspect the wreckage. He recognized a lot of these parts; fusion pulse weapons, tentacled robot arms, and scraps of spherical glass shells, perhaps 2 meters wide.

“What’s all this clutter? Was this an alien attic or something?” Mabel whispered from his elbow.

“No, these are security drones… Or they were…” Ford poked at it with the barrel of the magnet gun.

“Are they all dead?”

“Well it definitely appears as if… Wait.” Ford’s eyes swept the carnage. Toward the opposite end, a single motor twitched. One of the red triangular eyes lit up briefly to look at him.

Ford flipped the gun to its pulse setting, and shot it. The red eye flashed, and sparks arced across its body, frying and scrambling its circuits. The remains of its artificial intelligence realized it ought to send some manner of report back to the central mainframe, but it was so frazzled that its last words ended up being nothing but an incoherent string of nonsense: “INTRUDERS DETECTED INCONCLUSIVE REFERENCE CODE RETURN THREAT LEVEL UPGRADED TO JELLY ROLL ONE: ERROR 443\]kl;/oij#JE’~~3Dde~~~…” It broadcasted with the last of its consciousness.

“Now they’re all dead.” Ford answered confidently.

“Okay. So-”

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” A new voice spoke up, coming from the control room entrance. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

Ford spun on his heels. The narrow sliver of light creaked open to its full width, and the silhouette of his twin brother was suddenly standing in the gap.

“Ford?”

“Stanley?”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 3:05pm (concurrent)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (Wendy)

It seemed like hours of walking, with the pain burning through every wound in her body, blood pooling from the spike in her stomach, and her legs stiff beneath her. It was probably only 20 minutes or something, but still.

Finally, she reached the control room at the ship’s center, and pulled the tape to jump back to right before she’d heard the ship’s engines going off; back when she’d first realized drones were being sent to kill McGucket and Stan.

She hit the ‘freeze’ button on the tape as she appeared, and took a moment to look around. Sure enough, there were no fewer than 8 drones approaching the control room, and sure enough, the old men had no idea what was coming. Stan was even asleep.

Ugh.

Well, they’re too high of the ground to use an axe… And I left the ray gun somewhere… Ugh… Oh hey, wait, McGucket brought that new death ray of his, didn’t he? Yeah, he has it down here…

She stumbled into the control room, unfroze the massive weapon, and brought it back outside.

Okaaaay, soo… How do you turn this thing on?

She messed with it for a couple seconds, flipping this switch and that, pulling the trigger, and scratching the record (why is there a record player?) Eventually she found a switch that made it make a whole lot of funny noises, and another one that turned on the ‘ignition’ light. The weapon roared to life in her hands, and a swirling, glowing pink ball of pure sci-fi-ness formed a few inches from the tip. She aimed it upwards at the first drone and pulled the trigger.

Wham.

The time-frozen room glowed with brilliant pink light for a moment, as the superheated beam tore through the robot’s shell. The grass cracked, the metal components melted, and its batteries violently burst.

But time was still frozen, so its debris just hung motionless in the air, mid-explosion, as Wendy aimed the weapon at the next drone.

Wham.

And the next.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Finally they were all dead, and Stan and McGucket were safe.

Huh. Wow. She looked down at the death ray. I actually REALLY like this thing. She unfroze time just long enough to watch the robots’ wreckage clatter to the ground, and catch the stench of warm smoke. Then she dropped the death ray where she stood, and stepped back into the shadow of a nearby pipe to think through strategy: Okay, so they’re safe, that’s a real load off. But now how do I find Sam? How do I get myself medical attention when I can’t trust anyone? How do I keep him from killing Mabel and Ford and everybody else? Where do I go from here?

Oh man, I’m still bleeding…

Every time she thought about her injury, it seemed to be getting worse. And always she seemed to be getting tired faster. Things were getting… Weird… And every time she sat down, it was harder and harder to force herself to stand back up.

After 10 minutes of balancing torture and sleep, she was forcefully drug out of her brooding by the sudden loud discharge of a magnet gun.

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” Stan’s distant voice mirrored her thoughts. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

Wendy forced herself to an upright sitting position, and peaked around the pipe to see what was happening.

Much to her surprise and suspicion, she saw two guests that she’d presumed dead.

“Ford?”

“Stanley, is that you?”

“Bro, why are YOU down here? I told you to get some rest!”

“The real question is why y’all’re down here!” Mabel piped up. “It’s colder and creepier than the county jail down here! Heck, creepier than a unicorn dungeon! Dare I say, even creepier than a gnome drunk-tank!”

“Mabel!” Stan noticed his great niece standing there with him. “Sweetie! Are you okay? What’re you…? What’re you both doing down…?”

“Stanley give me your hand.” Ford commanded, rushing up to him. “Here. Now. Give it. Quickly and quietly now; we haven’t got all day. Mabel, stand guard, would you?”

“What woah hey what’s the matter with-” Stanley began to protest as Ford grabbed his wrist, drew a small knife, and pricked a hole in Stan’s palm. Stan drew his hand back as fast as he could react, and clutched his wounded fist to his chest. “OW HEY GEEZ FORD WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!? YA COULDA KILLED ME!”

“I… I was just…” Ford looked at the drops of red fluid trickling out of his brother’s fist. “Red blood. Good. My apologies, it was a necessary evil. Stanley, we’ve got a-”

“Look poindexter, I don’t gotta put up with this! I’m OLD!”

“We’ve got a problem.” Ford continued. “Where’s Robert?”

“I said I’m too old for this!” Stan gave one last try at driving the idea appropriately far into his brother’s brain. “TOO. OLD… And wait, who in Stalin’s pits is ‘Robert’…?”

“The Valentino boy! Shaggy, gangly little creature. Wears a hoodie? Eyeliner? Human, I believe.”

“…Oh you mean Robbie? Yeah, he was here earlier. McGucket said he ran off with Wendy about an hour ago. Thought they’d be back by now.”

“Oh, blast it all…” Ford nervously glanced about.

Wendy sighed, and drew her axe. If Ford and Mabel were real, then that was 4 of her friends accounted for, and she could get their help. But if one of them was the Shifter… She didn’t know how she’d face him in her current state, but it would be better to get it out of the way now than later. “ALL RIGHT YOU TWO…” She announced, as loudly and strongly as she could muster. “HERE’S HOW IT IS.”

Everyone turned about, looking for the source of her voice. Ford drew a ray gun and pointed it toward her hiding place in a fit of panic.

“Stan 2…” She struggled upright, using her axe like a walking stick. “You… You know about the shapeshifter… Which means you either beat him, or you are him. So… So prove the first one or I swear I’ll, like… Do something bad…”

“Uh… I can vouch for him!” Mabel spoke up. “He ain’t been out of my sight!”

“And I can vouch for Mabel…” Ford said. “But now YOU… Uh… You’d better be the real Wendy…!”

Wendy figured that was proof enough. Or maybe it wasn’t… Oh, heck if she knew. And even if it wasn’t, she couldn’t fight like this…

She stepped out into the light.

She was bleeding the color red from enough places that they no longer found her suspect.

“Geez, girl, you alright?!?” Stan took in her injuries. “C’mon, sit down! What got ya?”

“Uh…” Wendy finally seemed to partially relax, and let Stan lead her over to a big, round alien chair in the control room. “You… You guys are all okay… You’re all alive. I thought…”

“Wendy, I’m dreadfully sorry, but we have bigger problems!” Ford told her. “We have reason to believe that the Shapeshifter had a parent, likely possessing time-travel capabilities of far-reaching extent. Have you s-”

“Neutralized.” Wendy collapsed into the chair, while Stan fumbled with a first aid kit. “I… T-t-took care of it.”

Ford blinked. “You… Did? It’s captured?”

“Dead.” Wend winced as Stan lifted her jacket to inspect the wound. “She’s dead.”

Mabel put her hand over her mouth. “You killed her?”

Ford frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeh.” She grunted quietly.

“Uh…” Ford noticed the greenish filth covering her shirt and forearms for the first time, and was shocked to realize it was all blood. “Uh… Y-y-yes…” He stuttered. “I should think so…”

“Where’s…” Wendy grunted. “W-w-where’s the other one? The first one? Has anyone seen him?” She fixed her eyes on Ford and Mabel. “YOU’VE seen him. Where is he? I’m going to kill him too…”

“The heck you are!” Stan growled, as he kept pressure on her wound with one hand, and rustled through the first-aid kit with the other. “I ain’t no doctor, but you’re in a real bad way, so you’re staying right here until we get ya patched up. You shouldn’t even be walking!”

“Yeah… Yeah I am…!” Wendy pulled a time tape out of her pocket, and coughed. “I know I am, because this one just came flying out of the air at me at the start of the battle, and there’s no way for me to get it except prying it from his cold dead hands and that means I-”

“Wait…” Ford snatched the machine from her grip, and inspected it closesly. It was perfectly identical to the one they’d taken from Sam, right down to the same exact dents and scrapes. He pulled its duplicate out of his pocket. “No, we already did… It’s the same one…”

Wendy stared. “…You mean… You got him…?”

Ford nodded. “Neutralized…”

Wendy blinked tiredly. “Oh.”

“And so if I’m understanding this right, this one a past version of this one…” Ford held up the two tapes. “You have to help me understand this, I-”

“Ford.” Stan growled, as he glared at his brother. “I’ve got my fingers in this girl’s INNARDS trying to pull out a HARPOON, and you’re trying to TECHNOBABBLE with her. Stop talking.”

“…Well. Wait…” Ford scratched his head. “Okay. I know how I can help. I know what I can do… I just need to know where this ‘fight’ is…”

All of a sudden, there was a flash of blue light, and another Ford appeared standing in the room, looking as if weary from a journey. “Well, that’s that…” The second Ford sighed. He glanced at present Ford. “Take the Norther cargo doors out of the engine room, then follow the 3rd hallway on the left as far as it goes. You’ll reach a loose hatch in the left wall near where it’s collapsed, and you can find your way from there.” She pointed to the tape he’d taken from Wendy. “Use that one to return to now.”

“Got it.” The first Ford nodded.

“Also, don’t interfere with anything!” The second Ford added. “DON’T interfere. It already happened the way it did. She got hurt, but she won, so you don’t DARE even RISK messing ANYTHING up…”

“Understood.” Present Ford disappeared, and everybody was left staring at the second Ford: the one who’d just come back from completing the final mission.

“That… That’s that…” Ford sighed.

“That’s it…?” Wendy whispered, scarcely daring to believe it. “That’s it…” She realized it was true, and had a feeling as if a great load had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders.

“What’s it?” Mabel scratched her head.

“I’m kinda perplexified by what gist happened…” McGucket admitted.

“I’ve learned to accept my confusion for what it is.�� Stan had totally ignored everything in the past two minutes. But now he sat back, wiped his hands on his shirt, and looked at his brother. “Okay, I think I got the bleeding stopped; least until we can get back to the Shack. So. Now we can talk.”

“Okay… I’ll see if I can put this into simple words…” Ford adjusted his glasses and prepared. “So… Wendy… Ah… Wendy just got through with a… Fight. A very… Intense fight; I watched the whole thing. And… I now no longer doubt Stanley’s claim that her father can wrestle a bear. Also… Wendy, I have to say that you’re much smarter and tougher than I ever gave you credit for. And I don’t doubt that your grit, ingenuity, and unsettlingly high tolerance for pain just saved all our lives.”

“Gee thanks.” She mumbled. “But you coulda helped out too while you were there…”

“Couldn’t risk it.” Ford stated briefly. “Now, moving on. A number of… ‘Stable time loops’ were employed during all today’s events. Things happened the way they did because time travel forced them to happen the way they already did. Information and persons traveling backward through a stable time-like curve result in recursive causality.”

“Ford.” Stan frowned. “Yer technobabbling again. We’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry, sorry… Anyway… To summarize, things were weird.” Ford summarized. “But now… To the very best of my knowledge, all those time loops are ‘closed’. That is, we’ve completed all the actions needed to make things happen the way they have. And, by some miracle of either talent, intelligence, luck, or all three, the way they happened is that we won. It’s all done. We are now officially free to live out the rest of our lives without fear of the Shapeshifters.”

“You mean Sam and his mom.” Mabel corrected him.

“I…” Ford considered that. “Yes… Yes… Sam and it’s… And his mom. We are free to live without fear of Sam and his mother.”

“But we won’t.” Wendy muttered.

“Hmm?” Ford clarified. “What did you say?”

“We won’t.” Wendy repeated. “Dipper’s dead. And we ain’t gonna leave him that way.”

“Oh, and also Robbie!” Mabel added. “Robbie’s probably dead too.”

“And Robbie.” Wendy agreed. “Right… Keep forgetting about him. But anyway, we’re going to save them. And… Okay. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I’ve got a good plan. I think that if I went back alone, there’s one single moment that I could change. And if I change it, if I knew then what I know now, then none of this would have happened. I know exactly where I need to go…”

“Well…” Ford winced as he looked down at the tape. “I’m… I’m not sure we can undo Dipper’s death with these. They seem to form stable time loops only and-”

“There’s a switch on the side.” Wendy sighed. “When it’s engaged, you don’t time-travel like normal, it just beams back your brain. It replaces a version of yourself at a previous date. Good for fixing mistakes, I guess.”

“Oh.” Ford flipped the switch, and then stared at the tape again for a minute or so. “But…” His voice was small. “But if we undo everything…”

“Yep. Sam’s mom will be back alive.” Wendy admitted, wishing she could forget that detail. “And Sam will be back in the bunker. It’ll be like nothing happened, because nothing did.”

“You… You saw her though!” Ford wished he wasn’t making the argument that he was. “You saw how dangerous she is! How psychopathic she is! How many people she’s killed! You LIVED through the experience of how MUCH it takes to DESTROY her! We CAN’T risk undoing that! Suppose she catches even the faintest HINT of what happened?!? She could be anywhere, anyone, anywhen…! She-”

“That’s less important!” Wendy retorted.

“It’s not that simple!” Ford pleaded. “Do you have any idea how lucky we were today?!?”

“I have an idea that I didn’t fight across time and space just to hide for the rest of my sorry, miserable life!” Stan tried his best to stop her, but Wendy pushed him aside and struggled to her feet, pressing her arm to her stomach to keep the bandages in place. She stepped right up into Ford’s face, and glared. “I did it because my best friend died, and I want him back…” She told him. “Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m tired, I’m in pain, and I just want to start fresh. So GIVE me back that tape, or YOU are an obstacle.”

“…Ms. Corduroy.” He said. “Be reasonable-”

“Mabel, go for it.” Wendy sighed.

Mabel leapt off a high shelf, and landed on Ford’s back. Her arms and legs all entwined themselves about his face and right arm, and her hair got in his eyes. He stumbled a little bit and almost fell over, so Wendy kicked him in the chest to finish the job, and the time machine flew out of his hand and into the air.

By the time Ford regained his composure, he was lying on the floor, bruised and coughing. Wendy and Mabel were standing over him.

And Stan had caught the tape.

“Stanley…” Ford coughed. “Stanley, you… We… You must realize this is foolishness…! You know we can’t do this again…!”

Stan stared at the tape.

He thought about it all for a good long minute.

“Y’know Poindexter…” He hummed. “When we were out sailing the world this last year… When we heard the siren’s song, did we turn around?”

“We… What?” Ford frowned.

“No. We didn’t.” Stan said. “What did we do? We pulled out our hearing aids, we sailed right in, we kicked their tails, and we found a whole chest of pearls, now didn’t we?”

“Well… Well, yes, I suppose we did, but what does that have to do with-”

“And how about when we ran into that bounty hunter? Did we hide from her? What woulda happened if we hid from her?”

“Then… Then we would have had to leave the rocket launcher behind…?” Ford frowned. “…And… I don’t know, probably would have been defenseless against the cyclocks…”

“And how about that one warlord? If we woulda put up our hands and backed out of that business, we’d be permanently banned from Peru, not to mention never meeting all those babes in that harem of his…”

“We’re in mixed company, Stanley.” Ford glanced toward the children.

“And how ‘bout Bill?!?” Stanley demanded. “When Bill had you during Weirdmageddon, WE were all SAFE! We coulda RAN! Left the town scot-free! Instead these morons drag me along to give up everything for your stupid hide, and wouldn’t ya know it, we just so happened to save this whole lousy dimension along the way!”

Ford nodded.

“And my brain…” Stanley said. “Soon as my mind was wiped, you all started right in helping me back up; mixing up old memories, tickling the old thinker, making me a Grunkle again… Even though ya must’ve worried that you might’ve been stirring Bill up too… Ya coulda left it be, but nooooo, instead you loved me too much, and now we all gotta worry that maybe he’s still rattling around in there, kicking stones and twisting wires…”

“If he ever comes back we can deal with it…” Ford growled.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Stan agreed. “That’s seriously, like, the moral of our entire adult lives; that we DON’T RUN…! Remember, we’re PINES! And Pines don’t leave family behind. We stand by each other through thick and thin… We’re there for each other! No matter what! Seriously, get your head in the game, poindexter…”

Ford’s eyes fell.

The room was silent for a moment.

“All right.” Ford whispered.

Stan handed the tape to Wendy. “Go get ‘em, sweety.”

“But…” Ford implored. “But we don’t know what’ll happen… Nobody can know…”

“HA HA! Well that’s the funny thing, isn’t it?” Stan chuckled. “Cause we kinda DO! Wendy here says she actually once met a future version of herself!”

“Dude.” Wendy frowned at him.

“Yeah!” Stan continued, with a beaming smile. “She was all grown up and everything! And this freaky chick says that her and Dipper are actually married by then! Can ya believe that?!?”

“What.” Ford’s expression went blank.

“EH?” McGucket almost dropped his glasses.

“SQQUEEEEE!” Mabel instantaneously lost all motor control.

“…You did not just say that.” Wendy glared at her Grunkle. “You gave me your word. You scumbag.”

“Wha-haaaaat? I’m rootin’ for ya babe!” Stan put up his hands and took a step back, smiling broadly. “And besides, this timeline is all gonna get undone anyway, so it’s not like I really spoiled anything!”

“This close.” Wendy growled, holding up her fingers to a very narrow width. “This close to having a brick shoved up your nose.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry… Yeah, uh… Okay, that wasn’t cool.” Stan glanced down at Mabel, rolling around on the floor and frothing at the mouth just a little. “Yeah, uh… Hmm… I guess you better get outta here then…”

“Darn right I better…”

“Hey.” He put a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “You done good kid. I, uh… I dunno what to say besides that this reality bites, so you go back and make a better one. You knock ‘em dead, you grow up to be that hero, and watch out for my nephew, hey? Make sure he does the same.”

“Yeah.”

“And also. You proved me right, kid.” He said sincerely. “This was your day to shine. Even if nobody saw it, you did it, and you proved for good an all that you are that hero. Hope he knows that.”

Wendy nodded.

“…Wait.” Ford said.

They looked down at him.

He stood slowly to his feet, a look of sorrow on his face. “I’m… I’m the villain in this story… I am, aren’t I.”

“The heck are you on about?” Stan frowned at him. “Y’know we’ve got time-traveling booger monsters runnin’ around, not ta mention killer robots up the wazoo…”

“No, I…” Ford rubbed his face through his hands. “I mean… Is it my fault, for treating… For treating ‘Sam’ like I did? Are they just monsters? Or are they people?”

“I treated ‘im bad as you…” Mumbled McGucket. “Like livestock…”

“Hey, what’s done is done.” Stan spread his arms. “Ya didn’t know all this back then, right?”

“But am I still the bad guy?” Ford asked. “Are they people? Do they think, feel, live, choose…”

“I dunno…” Wendy shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Then…” Ford nodded. “That means he has a soul. And that means I misused mine. That means that wrong was done… Uh… Would you mind… When you go back, would you mind telling past-me what happened? You don’t have to tell him everything, just… Just, he would have liked to know what could have been avoided… He’d like to know about the shapeshifter… And about who he is… It occurs to me that I’m sorry for what I did to him. It occurs to me I imprisoned him, and treated him unfairly for many years. If he ever could have been anything more than a monster… I’d have liked to know.”

Wendy nodded again. “Alright.”

“Biscuit Brown.” Ford added. “Carrot Costume.”

“Wait, what?”

“Tell past-me that.” Ford nodded. “‘Biscuit Brown’, and ‘Carrot Costume’… They’re codes. So that he’ll know that it’s serious.”

“Okay…” Wendy repeated the codes to herself with a shrug. They were bizarre, and nonsensical, but that’s part of what made them easy to remember. She fished out the pull-tab of the tape measure. “Guess this is goodbye, then, ish.”

“WAITWAITWAIT *cough* I GOTTA *cough* I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I’VE GOTTA COME TOO!”

“No.” Wendy told Mabel.

“BUT! UH! …But what about Robbie? I gotta stop him from going underground where he could get snagged by the shapeshifter! That means I definitely have to come back with you and uh incidentally know your secret also but that’s just a side detail I mean really who cares…”

“Well…” Wendy knew that, objectively, Robbie’s safety was much more valuable than Mabel not knowing. If it meant him living, Mabel had to come. She glared at Stan. “Now look what you’ve did.”

“Sorry.” He winced.

“Okay…” Wendy realized that she was too tired and worn and injured to even care. She glanced back at Mabel. “Fine… But if you tell anyone else…”

“Even Dipper?”

“Especially Dipper… Ugh… If you tell then I’ll…! I’ll… I dunno, I’ll do something bad… Okay?”

“Okay! I get it. You don’t have to worry. And besides, my vast network of spies would have eventually found out anyway, so it’s probably better this way.”

“…Yeah, I suppose that makes sense.”

Wendy held up the time machine, double-checked that the switch was in ‘unstable’ mode, and gripped her hand around the ‘backward’ button.

Mabel put her hand on the device too, so that the field would encompass both of them.

Wendy checked the time on her phone, then pulled the tape out to 4 days, 2 hours, and 15 minutes, then double-checked her math.

She knew where she was going.

This was going to work.

“Bye friends!” Mabel said. “We go to the past in the name of the future!”

“Adios.” Stan gave thumbs-up.

“Smell ya later!” Fiddleford danced a little jig.

Ford sighed, and closed his eyes. “Farewell.”

“And that’s all she wrote…” Wendy released the tape.

Voom.

Ph qry ermw, zvy ygo lgnlr bzs.

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Bml os qry oesv ucq.

Yk hak vlox.

Rto wzwys qry dhw?

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Il ohg u egcrgo, jmfztorauhz jiodof, oocmv zlld, ktcikn haddz kyik mrgclb ierj bq s zaucr xelss bcgvwe, darsfp csejw mciu czudv is xzyaefklr. Uej ehw xscii cls kdvdyu oywsjk zcbk l szsszin iznw, lvkuij l djspb wfbprwv pb zztp mwko; zcbkwy ewhbn ku noddlqn ykc ujaus uej hakll. Gbv ylt mh hbx dugev sycoej ehw jvcg, rto fgmur ck zz bw kv ggrrw tzsa gbv izudv acotn molz zwxvy lt gfjs.

Myk aewjlr wcudedq hh nyk comfk kucrd, afv mcoej ehsl avyp cprw kswayzwy ljhbmggcefl; hg cw yse owys fzbtny augcuk l gayhbnzi eekl aivv. Uftkaks nyk eutw zhifj wofy swhvy zf glosl kamek au juiozuk kpnyj, gyd af isnnkpn lzlfy nkce ogyyvvtnhwk, sov vwfihelbn, rto sljhbav, zpnlsjzyu iceslbfyj ge wgjr.

Gbv xpcgyuwtvj ehwkl qlvgeujwz; hbve hejw avy jgxe ozpqb ygo ifnhryu npr ogyzx; knp ssel kbzis hsv ksmtkydwv mfid zse kcf hi iulm oaav wrxpfjwl oougnilq; avy jgxe ozpqb ygo kadssx ykc pwgwzy; knp ssel kbzis hsv rwfcko hae.

Hg nyk xifmasm konkwv im uej ehwq wocu npr fg ucnzip, szw zon lv lnv tluue zz wsljv nykx.

Il ibwwbrj bwuhay trpaj lv vyi zsal losmv vlrlajifrx nrwsailvy hejw uscknpr ugueovxprk fvf qrxcigjz, wh wgnt lzlm qvxp nglowhx szrw looh jiteflpgnj, czrcauu nf gyadqgs uej fnvwygnrto add avy kntnyk avyp nld xgbbx. Knpy kwlayu kicallr, okzprdq lbuducev ophb knpij ovfe rto tzwpf wlxtomkphs rto tzw zdyckydav ysmlres gx avyzx dtjsuuy kkdtk. Wphbvx oivf’a yhfc zr vakb’n tgce stvin knp ssnhuy dkehgvz ps nntcz loss’u gnqmaysx knpij kbpdvies.

Wnlbnlgwlq loss dgoe lzlwl ngj dgou hbv rtnw lv vyi zfbw, sur vvmln lg asmk npr.

Lzlm mkank kehzf kuzlk auhi ykc pjazch ku aocw hbx gxzd zwy. Hcjyfe kstdfvy hejw aoevt. Hijwz kyik waav vjyi npr kuhzj ku dcjmawhzfp hwj twhu. Zsejehz, r-igj, afv tcfviflsj kwmgrlcwelbn zslgafn uumk ehwe cwyny lnv yyojyy zf wnlfs jwfajw pbwy uq hwj icxp. Yzmw gm hbv zpslk oilk. Yzmw gm hbvs hejw pbprytvw. Kvay fl ehwe sszk npr laysx rto afyym.

Vlz ehjgbub zz lld, kos hvbpr yscs og npr jwzcfmk lnv zlf wrrx. Afv hg nyk somjz hctqpd tq hbx kacnwv pbnf jlyk, kos qrznhwv avyd, pfsl sz qffyplq sz hbve haluosx ykc. Szw dontnpd lzla fzqp a tayr qrznhwk wfyp, rtkw s nihjrtnywy kukisek s jvucrpnywy, zcbk l dwllqnzbp wsljvyj zse egcsgvte ox s zvuuuhy wflas. Jnp lakashvj eo lzlwl cgygmsns, uej dhw ohhwyko tzwpf avyeujwz ohu zseaj isbrbtojk, hbx jnp csel hi ltoejkaohu zsee. Muryiyeafv avy jizpw sur jlxaokw vt nyktr ogyy, uej ehw kpny rto cgewzyooey gx avcj ysih, sur nyge hwj vkh grlnwl dome’z ehw xpfmk zz rwulwpv yfcz lysukspnl.

Kos ymkytmsszs tgxe lg bbxvxdtsfk hbvs aejxlqnce.

Lnv kos brzpd lzla.

Fftr bwxvfy knp twkag brj noehssnvj, hhadl gbv cls klpzf zt ehw eprmk uq hwj woce, csef kos qry qewdpba ry dmsds ohu gd hwdwzyjy ls kzl spvx, dhw dvcevj zul sa vyi kyeealg, uej xavw osl uknikavb.

Myk xavw hb irzs.

Szw zkiik fpgf owm jufl lzhh myk homdk opvtre zat. Gbv yhojw avuk yse ogbzx fbprugts ucr ehwkl tilr ehafng; mtopnlazhm, juwdawyg, gftdtwjz, ofzkys, sfk shkoce sjtwyj… Yse kovfy knlt kzl kilro gjgd— Ulfc fnlas gbv hpcsel hbv WFEWF vt nyod vwkzsf, rto tzsa gbv czudv RWFC kgejq zwhxrp msf, dcgrt, lnv kuwpvrtny uowfu zsal dpjyu uybgsyr…

Myk dwgjl wn. Lvzn zaz ayducy, sfk ijft lld los xiklmk loon knpy zsk rlvgxt, kzl gqfxp il. Sur qyky szw oox ykc ohhvfnltttq, oosh jknujaam qvte lsp, dvye gwl osz eozke afv avyp gwl zsk hbvoc bsurg nlxyev… Kos qfawd sua ijft tt.

Al dom ftwy s ehhnvx zf lats.

Uej xesfdvcck, dhw ovifu yfrnacs.

“Sfac bagscazill kanbukace vglgh’k sltuz dwny gyy gx avy fzsej uysukacek au vyik, lnv gbf hvacodgnwwrr dcsfz whuonalw avuk ezu darsfp vzskwzg mfsp dwyysy fl deflpshtk. Xojwvjyi, ezu zscsh’k xpshguryu zz tzw asmky ls sf hbcdgw wgmsr, fvgoify bg nf hplawcs nyge ygm hfy zteeflpchrrwy zakwhx ezuj siwfzztek sur cezpldanshtk… Mul… Tbh qv’xp ngl oslv zz hmja mil. Cp rwsszs rxpn’l, A dohk ezu lg bbxvxdtsfk hbrz. He bmzh qrte tg cucq puf. Ww’jl qoiozuk, jpubk? Ezu cfvk qyge cmjpcoj od, dgf’a mil…? Yz… Sg am mil iln mfksljzlnv el, cl zl jom’jl qidvcezwurcem lnqlowhx O’x ssqpba, grpakw nwpv yzmw kvfn fl diyf… P fyrrwy vgu’h gvgy ygm hbs ygcm…”

Kzl zifqpd mh hh Xi. &X/\MJ sk os nrrvev, sur myk fnvwygnfuo pwjmswkrj. Sgelvin zse ‘mfpjyiyll ljhbmcgeoj’ (gy kbrzpvwj os wrrwev loon ukgiuw) zsydko tg tl qidsfnauhhcem oijwjhfp oytg zlf vigtn, kg avuk zse ewhbcem mezaur Xi. &X/\MJ’k fhgucrj, slmjy-og bziuw dom zsaokkppfv zz makz. Pok yse vakb’n ikdpgfk myk. Oy ojvlf zfx ehak ac af npr osf, vy ygo tg ylh bzs eo ljbgn ykc. Szw oox ku rel zpa nf rpt zaz uorxo dgou.

“Dfvgde, s kpuh. Rtj sayu on rrw, rwsszs… Puf kfgd, ky ygo ygm zhiiko walo hbv ayifllzfzmpnl uhfaf, jzwf au hbv rzwwj sspvrd. Ix qvi jiuge lg hqnlgwlq tl o mvteiwfa pyztr, ww uvifu aagjsks sfac salbonzuy walo qyizlif sjqidszdslpchj; lfld-kpnyu wfajllfm, modilgyg, u mgciwlf cz dkllk… Qvi xft’e swwt hi cove lzl ofxgw pskas, vlz he usu tusxtcsll ayrz ls owsz, ii… Uc sowlhm? Uu jom dpyy jcpelk? Johue…?”

Ehak dom ftp ox los mtopnlazhm nnz pjgisx ykc (dav avyp zsifc zvy tuflvf’a fyturnarl vcd?). Hft mfswev zse gloslj, np swwtsx boyd. Kzl’r bvgcd zat cvaknt lg h tyn uq tzw tclv oyvskpjy kkdtk, zl’r xiuapwv swnkrp tjwhhm zteo zwy tyvjtny lbpy wxzm lats nf ztmw, sur bv’j lscwk cpvx lnv gcsl wuc tzw jvueip tg kwsub cttz zlf xzxpcldf. Vy iklldq dom rt sofwzh, qvrw-mwsuwhx, qtnvdf cfu sln, oaavilz lnq ehzctozuk auhyeztofk mcl knp cjwhhoikd hw kaixzko.

“Rwsszs…” Yk znuw huuzt cehwhhyu. “Xpaddf, W xf clnl ooon’j hpsl xvf sfa… Oo qgb… Ri puf hsnl o hrsp? Hsnl o avtoej? Kvaykntny qvi qrte? Afq xiyjztofk mcl dk? Lrw qvi nyk daew zdytops sk avy yudtadlg qyonh slaowbko omj lljcucalavb nvgx…?”

Szw nzueipd sl avy fzsej kjwyeztslk, hg cw yse osz ozigtd gx avyd. Jc. &R/\TB mfintpd, jwjcaeokify osl tuycwju. “Ib… Ln, homdk mil stnv kasjgoyg gma cz knp rggt tii g xoewuh, avtelwelb…?” Bv kycgmyoavj sik uvzfvgruwk, dvcck eujflr ungj fjgt hbv stcjgwviek. “T, uz… A oopv gy ivwh. W nyoyk kzl’g dlye susysx.”

Knpy vak om ztdtjmjhyu, gyd Vj. &Y/\PD kacnwv iowb zz hwj. “Ds’lv gwofw ucq…”

“…De… Xy fsts… Gp tlmw az ███████.” Gbv yaocw pb bvx yalacs frtrusyl, hi uodgmazs nyk qudd llnvte ox zlf cezpldanshtk.

“Fh…” Vj. &Y/\PD jkpmwv zvitqpd. “Owsz bvrwo!” Zw isudko. “I-a-aa’g mf bprq fpqy ku xewl fco, ███████! Knlt’k s cslp rzvwdf budk, fh… A’e zc acgo ygm kswzjpd lg afojz xe…”

“Qgb’fy r ttcw ehb…” Myk fswv h ggrrw taepr pfone, dars nyge ox s scmk mtrd, lv rcjmfikw osl dgwiuw. “P’a mfxcy A vprh’k zllc, A dom aadt kg zquiko, afv P kuezpd lg owxv… Gce… Sjl as dux afv kox zt sejw aci?”

Yk rlsfjsx rxzufv uslmufsdq mcl r ypcgfk. “Ob… Nkwl, fg… Uc, C’d yzrjq, iin pufr egavyi gyd xsavyi… Axm… Vakb’n dgve al. Iin nk’ce sds bctk aeghss bvxp! Ww’jl bik mzify ac blxe ygm! Fco tgy hsnl o hvc soew oslv…”

Gwl zaz kiijd wwjl zcvy, mul kos jzknev lvuyknpr kgts mtxlpk gm hllzs. Sg los myoa mmka vumk wexl vil nuclv. Ol aojz lld tl offtp ngo, vin zt ehw efgnvxtomk cccu. Zsejw pg hf nplh xvf gv, hft lzlfy zy llkg uc bvra fgj avyd… “Axm…” Kzl gbllqlwv osl wkpt. A flsx duce afmcldgeigf. P byvj waqgbhm fl oeucz, shxoyek, uoocey zf ugtauej. T nwwk cok. “Yz… Wzsa wm knts hdhqy vdlcldf?”

Hbv qtnv kjwyeztsl ohgnvj yo lats ce ucgsfpncem l tgmy, gi vgrej ohg bv zz fgkasl tuxmmfpqukozn sfk uifjhidd dwny zsik flkfp-jtsugcslvj tnlwszcxkyt damszfxx. Hw zhr bvx alsulr ce g xuuz avcetpr, hgyhusrp cgfaocekc, afv lgwfxeev zlf nyxzuyz avy cuh-swubfcke lrwsz cz knp szaw, gbfctny zlf nyod afv avuk, kipdspbcem soo los aiggilq kfcmk hojclr, uej ehw zfdyijcinw, hbx knp gqjvgwfvps sfk hbv oxpjgiovzrttq uvflvieigf kmhrszs. Sfk gbv gdkwv awgzj willss mkaaiv ibsmkoznk oowwy np afkdslvj eo lzl pyjz zf zaz ovzrttq.

Oosh knprw ohg zztlldq uc gfxp tg tl uuztpd lzycoxn eadc, zvy rieev. Kos mygaekzptnvj qoj los zzxdt lats mztne zwy shkxlpewuh, nrqtny gu o zfxx sljvba vtzuyz ac viklk lzycoxn ehw ysomj.

Yse jawdyu Jc. &R/\TB’z hbiult gma. Gbv gwsg cpzfvj 6 xojw wsigrp wzg oojgkyev lv py jzlnvauu hvgcbq, sur mgxlywv h hioon sdats uiufnv lv rykkc pmjziyiy. Dhw sas bvx qidd mfid zse tgkwyj (oe wsk zc afuo tg zhjy dklt syhwh), knpn vmjyyu oytg los pvteidsawie yjslwt, kbvxp szw oox r isaful hi jntfl auhi knp fgjt cz r jtfxwyshk yniwfawmk, gyd ugtdijk sejklzz nntlw kos jikaajwk hi gxzpwjsm celtlljhhy knp cjwd.

Pok zse kwjhii cpnl auhi cunkvgdb glis fskasl knln kzl srgkntwv, avy mkytadhhcft ouulz gyrrpd gxm, ohu zse kasshk, lwoslpba xalrvk jogv. Gwtzgbub knpsw jvihu, yeajauu grisifwz kyik calzlf mkaaiv au hbvoc oof ywayz, dhw uvifut’e fggs hbvoc bagtsnion swfzclj; zseq olfy nkwl wibwjgko tg kls nyxzuyz osl uodgmazs. Mf, hpfgjl hbvoc msff kyrvznk, kos mlxcefvlfyu gyd dwa vyiyplx tl rycogejwk putq eo lzl hosk.

Tt kwlayu rtkw s zhyg hlcc, tbh ck clsf’l, mcl jnp hsv ssuitpd. Dwhfhvj zf lzl quggmidaawyj uq hwj lbydops, sfk gidkehafn cz knpij oloeekdswk. Hg nyk hewcz ohu zsokw pbnf sznlzz, ohu gd tzw wceztr afv wfiujtny sur jiumify jchkoyuwv dwnyuft uwhgy, ykc pdsug ymuwvwv hbx xxpw. Xjva bvx eiew vin knprw, kos jlz eoywavyi sptzgkg nf uftoaa hbv jcofwz, hi seaakk scwbjzwfk, ac ezrw enwu aiik aeghss.

Myk vnwo ocq.

Jnp wgmsr mlxginw.

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

Crisco 129: Dystopian Sansby Dream AU-pt 1

A bit over a week ago, I had a dream, and because my sleep schedule had been disrupted, I woke with the memory unusually clear in my head. And as had never happened before, it was a dream formatted like a fanfiction. When I woke, and while still semiconscious, I outlined how the rest of it would go. This first part is the initial dream with only a few details filled in, the rest is continuation.  And all of it is rather different from what I usually do. I don’t ship Sansby when I’m awake--I can appreciate it as a ship, but it’s not one I have strong feelings for, really. But this idea was so sharp and clear that I had to do something with it. But I also didn’t feel like posting it with my other work, so it’s just going up here.  Keep in mind I thought this up while stressed, sleep deprived, running a low grade fever and actually unconscious.  The dream owes a lot to fact that I’d recently finished reading The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, which is dystopian up the wazoo, and the fact that I’d looked through the entire sfw ‘Grillby art’ tag before belatedly going to bed at an ungodly hour (and a lot of that was Sansby.) I especially blame this one piece by @literalnobody : http://literalnobody.tumblr.com/post/146801567514/sans-gets-a-summer-job-to-work-off-that-tab  (more the bottom one) 

I’ll post a link to pt. 2 once I get it up, which should be soon. Still working on pt. 3. The sections seem to be getting progressively longer agh I did not intend to spend this much time on this project... 

I REALLY HOPE THERE IS AT LEAST ONE DYSTOPIAN-LOVING SANSBY FAN OUT THERE 

*** 

Early morning, before sunrise. Sans was in his safe room, the only light from his glowing eyes and the glowing computer screen in front of him. Wires snaked over the side of the table down to the small generator purring beneath it. The computer’s case was made of mismatched pieces of plywood hammered together. Sans had made it himself over a period of years, kludging together all the parts he possibly could from unlikely materials, only buying on the black market when he absolutely had to. Monsters were not allowed to use technology in the Confederation. The resulting machine didn’t look like it should run, but it did. 

Sans typed carefully, letters jumping onto the black screen. The keyboard was ‘real’, he’d found it in a dump—it hadn’t been considered an important enough part to be confiscated and destroyed. Half of the original keys were missing and had been replaced, partly with mismatched keys of various colors, partly with carefully carved chunks of wood.

>knock, knock.

>Who’s there?

>who

>..Who, who?

>hey. listen. i think i heard an owl.

>Haha!

>owls are said to be wise. i wonder if it has anything to tell us.

>Oh I don’t know how wise this old bird is, but she does have a word to pass along.  

>what’ve we got today?

>Greenleaf.

>greenleaf eh. that need to be it? can it be a bit different? green leaves, green-leafed?

>It needs to be as close to the original as possible.

>makes sense. who comes up with this stuff?

>I don’t know. Not me, certainly. I’m more of a parrot than an owl, I’m afraid.

>oh I disagree my lady.

>You flatterer. Do you have the song downloaded?

>yes ma’am. i’m ready when you are.

>You’re secure and ready to broadcast once I receive a signal.

>ok. let’s rock.

Sans navigated to the jump drive and played the audio file the old lady had sent him, then reached for his headset and slipped it on. The serene sound of a guitar being plucked swam through his skull. He leaned back in his chair, relaxing, preparing.

Almost heaven, West Virginia

John Denver. He snapped his fingers, away from the mic, where the sound wouldn’t be picked up, and smiled.

Country roads, take me home To the place I belong

A pain like homesickness twitched in his soul.

Another chat appeared on the black screen.

>You’re live in 10.

The music was winding down.

>When you’re ready.

Sans adjusted the mic and began talking, using a lazy New York accent that disguised his voice somewhat.

“Heya everyone, it’s the great legendary fartmaster of doom here to tell ya it’s a fine day in the Confederation. Cats are swingin, dogs are singin. Good times. The greenleaf tree in my yard looks like heaven on earth, somehow. Funny how plants just keep growing. They have a kind of primal strength in ‘em. Maybe we have too.”

He kept on for half an hour, telling jokes and encouragement, lampooning the Confederation. He never planned these talks, they seemed to go better if they were ad-libbed, especially since the old lady might give him something that he’d have to fit in somehow at the last minute.

When the half hour was up he deleted the audio file from the jump drive and powered down the generator and by extension the machine, which didn’t have a battery, then teleported upwards. He landed in a bare bedroom with two beds. One was neatly made and had a petrified look suggesting it had been that way for a long time. One had its sheets in a wad and smelled of Sans.

Sans shrugged out of his pajamas and worked his brief body into his work clothes, slacks, a collared shirt and a vest. The slacks and the shirtsleeves were both liberally rolled. He padded to the window silently and peered out under the curtains. There was a faint light in the east. There was no green-leafed tree, only dust plains and barbed wire. They were right on the border, in the section that had once been called Snowdin Township and was now Subsection Twelve. One of the monster ghettos.

He scooted his feet into his shoes, tapped them on the floor to shake them into place, and went downstairs, soul pulse quickening a little at the thought of the next part of his day.

He entered the kitchen, which was a blaze of light. As usual, Grillbz was already up, heating the griddle and prepping for the day. He was wearing similar clothes to Sans, but looked much better in his, Sans thought. “How many eggs we eating today?” he asked conversationally, stepping down into the light of the kitchen. Grillbz smiled at him and began cracking eggs onto the griddle. “Eighteen,” he said. Sans hurried over to stand next to him and stood on his tiptoes to look at the sizzling eggs. Grillbz kept snatching up the next and breaking it: half of the griddle was covered in egg. “Eighteen?” “I need something to keep these flames burning.” “That shit’s rationed.” “Not here.” Grillbz smiled down at him, and moved sideways to snag another carton of eggs, bumping against Sans in the process. Sans felt a sudden chill, then a spreading warmth. His entire arm and part of his side were in contact with Grillbz, he could feel the heat sinking through his clothes. He didn’t move away. “I know what I can get away with,” said Grillbz, cracking the eighteenth egg and then flipping them all one at a time, starting with the first he’d cracked. “Nobody actually checks our numbers. Just trust me on this. How many do you want?” “Two.” Grillbz cracked two eggs onto the bottom of the griddle where they would be easily reachable by short arms. Then he paused and looked down at Sans. Sans suddenly realized that he’d been unconsciously leaning into the touch. Ah fuck that’s awkward. Grillbz leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. Then he straightened, scooped his eggs onto a plate and walked out.

Part 2

[heretic-altias]

Agh I have two broken computers and I wanna look inside of them of them so badly. Maybe I can make one working one out of them, one has a dead battery and a long lost charger (and probably other problems cause it's so old) but my mom won't buy it a new cord cause we don't need it, and the other has a crashed hard drive.

[loxare]

A Talon by Any Other Name

Chapter 10 - Spiralling

The only sounds coming from the comm. was bitten back shouts of pain and muttered curses. Tim was fighting to hold back tears. Bruce had sent him upstairs, trying to protect him, but he had forgotten the comm. unit Tim had had in his pocket. He'd heard everything. He was still hearing everything.

“Dick? Hood? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Please, answer me. Dick, we found Hood's name. Please, we know who he was. Bats hasn't told me, but I know he knows. Your name got taken, but we can give that back too. We can give them both back.” If the Talons could hear, no matter what state they were in, they would find some way to answer.

Nothing for a solid minute. Then, “Hey, Acrobat?”

“Yeah Hood?”

“Think they'll... find us?”

“'Course Little Wing. Why -agh- why wouldn't they?”

“I'm not sure I'm worth it. You have hope in you Acrobat. I saw the record... of your -urgh- assignments. Nothing worse than... the murder of a corrupt political figure. I've done a lot worse.”

Tim shook his head. Hood couldn't hear him, but he spoke anyways. “No Hood. No. What you did then wasn't your fault.”

Dick seemed to have the same idea. “Not your fault Little Wing. Not... your... faul...t.”

Hood let out a small, pained chuckle. “Good idea. Can't feel it if you're unconscious. Don't worry. I'll keep watch.” He gave out a gasp, then a slow inhale. The quality on this call was really good. Near perfect clarity. Tim stifled a sob. “You had a name, right? I remember calling you something else. But it's... ow, it's gone.” Hood fell silent.

There was a few hours of this, silence with nothing to distract Tim from his thoughts. Hood and Dick were not here. They were hurt and not only could he do nothing to find them, he was stuck in his room. Alfred was “dusting” outside, probably to keep him from running off. He just... felt so useless! He opened the feed to the Batcave on his computer. He'd planted a camera there a few days ago, which Bats had obviously found within the hour. But he hadn't found the secondary camera, the one that was smaller and better hidden. Not as good quality, but better than nothing.

Bruce was typing frantically. A million windows were plastered across the screens, with traffic cams of all locations and angles displayed. He'd hacked the financial records of every Owl he knew of, looking for purchased houses, ware houses, sheds, bolt holes, boats, anything and everything that was big enough to hold two Talons.

Talons? Tim didn't want to call them Talons anymore. Because they weren't. Talons were cold, calculating, horrible. Murderers. Dick and Hood were warm and full of laughter and they could bring so much goodness to this world if they were given the chance.

Dick had called him a brother. So that was what he was. Timothy Jackson Drake, adopted son of Bryce Wayne, vigilante Red Wing, and the younger brother of Richard John Grayson and Hood.

...That last part sounded weird. He'd have to get Hood's name from Bruce later.

Tim was just about to open a feed to the Batcomputer, to lend a hand, when an alert flared across the screen. Joker again, this time with Ivy. Already, they were planting bombs downtown. Most likely some mix of Joker toxin and pheromone pollen. Bruce flexed his hands in his gloves, obviously conflicted.

Finally, he pulled his cowl over his head and headed for the Batmobile, locking down the Batcomputer to finish the tasks without him.

Of course, now Tim couldn't help with that either. With a cry of frustration, he slammed his fist into the ground. Then, again. And again. It wasn't a productive use of his energy, in any way, shape, or format, but it was very satisfying. Right up until his knuckles started bleeding, and a little after.

He probably would have kept going, but a sound from the comm. brought him out of his stupor, diving for the dropped and forgotten unit to better hear everything that was said.

“Ahhh ah, ow, that was my intestine. Hate gut wounds. The acid goes ever-ahhhowow-where. Yeah, yeah, Cobb. I can see your little camera. Not gonna make me scream.”

There was a muffled beep, followed by a series of thuds and an electrical whine. When it stopped, Hood lay panting for a minute, the laughed. “Nope. Nice try. Electrocution always sucks. Be careful though. Don't want to waste the battery on this thing or it won't have enough juice to kill me.”

There was a groan. “You up Acrobat?”

“I... yeah, I oh, OW! That's...”

“Stomach acid. Yeah.”

“Hate it when that happens.” There was a cough, then scraping as someone shifted position. “Hood, about what you said earlier...” Another cough, this time from Hood. “You're worth it Hood. You are.”

“No, I'm no-”

“No! You are. Ow, shouldn't have shouted. Hood, I saw it four years ago, and I still see it. You're -ow- good. No, shut up, you are. You're not a Talon anymore. You can be... you can be a Robin.”

“Haha-ow-ha. A what?”

“A Robin. That's what my mooo-ow-oom used to call me. Her little bird on the trapeze.”

“I'm not a Robin Acrobat. I've never been on a trapeze. Ouch. How do you even remember this?” A whimper. Tim wasn't sure who it was from.

“They didn't know I remembered it, so they didn't -agh- know to take it away. And that's not the point you brat.” Somehow, they managed to share a laugh. “What I mean is, you're still bright. Not innocent anymore, you've seen too much. But you glow with life, with goodness.” There was a moment of silence. “You said I had hope in me. That was because of you Little Wing. Before I -urgh- met you, I did horrible things. I wasn't a... person. But I saw you and I rebuilt myself around being your brother. You just have to rebuild yourself too. You don't believe me. I can see it. Don't -ah- worry. You will. You'll see it some day.” There was some more shifting. “Hm? Hood? What's -ow- that?”

“It's a comm... The comm. Batman gave us.”

Jimmy the Snake was a low level thug. Of course, he fancied himself the next Falcone, but so did half the people in his gang. They'd gotten picked up recently, to help keep the Bat away while Joker and Ivy set up their latest “destroy Gotham” plan. A good plan, but they would need more than the measly hundred guys they'd gotten if they really wanted to keep the Bat off of them. Good pay though. Which was the only reason Jimmy the Snake was standing here, holding a semi-automatic and trying to look tough. Fairly easy when he stood at 6'4” and had a face that looked like it'd been through a blender.

Not the point. Point was, he'd been around the block. He'd seen the Bat take out twice this many guys with a paper clip and seventeen oranges. That had been a day. But he'd never seen this.

They saw the Bat coming. That was unusual enough. Normally, he snuck up on them, swooped down from the nearest tall building. And there were a lot of tall building to choose from. But instead he drove in, right up main street like it was nothing. Then, still half a block away, he launched himself out. Honest to God launched. The... what was it... momentum threw him over the heads of the small army Ivy had collected and right into Joker. Seriously, his feet landed on Joker's face. Before the clown could fall, he was pushing off, flying back into the crowd.

And that was where things got surreal. The Bat was the most seamless fighter Jimmy had ever seen. The absolute best. Of course, one day, Jimmy would get lucky and take the Bat out – blaming it on his mad skills of course – but that was for later. When he had time to cement his criminal empire. This though...

He was fighting like the thugs he took out. All heavy fists and no finesse. Bats usually moved like water, but now he was like a jerky automaton. Rigid punch, followed by rigid kick, then rigid elbow to the rib cage. Not only that, but he was getting injured and stuff. Greggie Manfred scored himself a blow to the ribs, and Greggie was the worst fighter in Jimmy's outfit. Jimmy himself managed to sneak up on the Bat and ram a knife into his side. Skittered off the Kevlar, missed the kidneys, but it was in there. On any other day, he would have been over the moon over this. Jimmy the Snake, and he slithered in and stabbed the Bat.

But he had snuck up on the Bat. People don't just sneak up on the Bat. This one time, Jimmy had watched Annie Grimes sneak up on him. The warehouse they'd been in had been incredibly noisy, and Annie had always been quiet. But just as she'd been about to blow his brains out point blank,he'd reached over his shoulder, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and had Annie face first on the ground and cuffed before anyone could blink. People didn't just sneak up on the Bat. Didn't matter if it was in a noisy warehouse or a noisy fight, it didn't happen. But Jimmy had.

So excuse Jimmy for being a little worried. Bats was his greatest nemesis, and Jimmy the snake was Bat's (well, one day). But he couldn't rise to the top of the top if he didn't have the Bat to oppose him. Sure, Red Wing would be fine, seeing as he wasn't here or nothing, but there was no glory to be grabbed by fighting someone half his age for the rest of his life.

His worry lasted right up until Bat's got a hold of him. Jimmy had been keeping count. The Bat had a few broken ribs, sprained ankle, four bullet holes and half a dozen knife wounds, but he still managed to grab Jimmy by the head, snap both of his arms, beat him half senseless, and drop him, all in the span of about ten seconds.

Bats could go screw himself. Clearly, he was fine.

If Batman had been thinking clearly, he would be worried about how he was behaving. Of the hundred or so thugs that were in the area, he had maybe twenty left, and he was starting to wear down. He couldn't quite curl the fingers on his right hand into a proper fist anymore. Repeated connections with one too many thugs' faces. Not only were they bruised, they were bleeding under his gloves and one of them was dislocated. But he wasn't. Worried, that is. All he could think about was the missing boys, their feed still coming through the comm.

THUD

A small moan of pain, its intensity in no way affected by its size.

THUD THUD BAM CRUNCH

Even unconscious, Dick cried out, louder than he would have if he'd been awake.

WHAM CRACK THUD CRUNCH

The loudest noise that came from Hood was a whimper, but Batman could hear the suppressed screams in every one.

THUD THUD THUD THUd THud Thud thud thud ...

The criminal he had in his hands was begging for him to stop. His entire face was a swollen bleeding mask. Barely aware of his surroundings, Batman stood up. The one he had been beating to death had been the last one, so he slowly turned to Joker and Ivy, who were still here for whatever reason. He shot out his grapple gun, reeling himself in so he flew right past Joker, arm-barring him in the throat. While the Joker wheezed chuckles, he turned to Ivy.

Something in his face made her surrender immediately. The Joker just kept laughing. “Haha-wheeze-hahaha. Batsy! I love this... new side to you.”

Later, much later, Batman would remember Joker's words and be horrified. After all, he had just beaten a hundred people half to death with nothing more than his fists. But right now, Dick and Hood needed him. These people were standing between him and finding them. So, with a simple, decisive punch, he knocked Joker unconscious. “Shut up.”

He knocked out Ivy, cuffed both villains, and shut down their machine. It looked like it would spread pollen, laced with Joker Gas, into the air. The pollen would kill off the humans, Ivy would get her plant paradise, Joker would get his laugh, the standard fare for these kind of scenarios.

He took a few samples, less neatly than usual, then called the Batmobile. He had to admit, he had stopped listening to the comm. when the Joker had spoken to him. He tuned back in, just in time to hear Hood say, “The comm. Batman gave us.”

He took the Batmobile at max speed back to the Cave.

“It's a comm...” Urgh. Ah, that one hurt. Whatever Cobb had put on them, it was moving. Slowly. “The comm. Batman gave us.” And it was cold. So cold. Probably coated in -ow- that anti-Talon juice. Or secreting it or something.

He tried to move closer to the comm., to try and turn it on, but was stopped by an intense pain every time he moved his leg. Ah. Ow. Right. The thing had drilled through his pelvis. Hadn't healed yet.

Acrobat was moving to the comm. too, and making better progress than Hood was. Just looking at him hurt. Not because of the torment they were both going through, although that was... hhnngghh-ow. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Where was he?

Acrobat. Acrobat had a name. He did. And it was there, hovering at the edge of his brain. It reminded him of that time the Court had run out of anti-Talon juice, but he had back-talked one of the Owls for the millionth time. They had tossed him in a large pit for a week. The sides had been beveled so the bottom was wider than the top. No food, no water. Once, day six or so, they had dangled a water bottle on a string at him. It had been agony, being so close to grabbing it, but every time his fingers barely grazed it.

This was worse.

Acrobat was at the comm. With a final grunt, he grabbed it, pulling it closer to his chest, a movement which made Hood realize that his arm was broken. Not surprising. With this what-ever-it-was in them, their bodies weren't focusing on healing little things like broken bones and contusions. Hood himself had fourteen broken bones and... um. He hadn't counted the cuts. But there was a lot.

Crawling closer to Acrobat, he saw that the older Talon had almost managed to find the switch. Honestly, these Bat-people and not labeling their tech. He flipped the switch, and almost immediately, there was a screaming from Hood's abdomen. Acrobat's too from the way he cried out.

The thing had reached his diaphragm. Already, he was having trouble breathing. But his hearing still worked. And thankfully, there was a voice talking at them.

“Hood! Dick! Are you alright?” Red. He was safe. The Talons let out a sigh of relief.

Wait. What did he say? “Dick? Is that Acrobat's name?”

“Yes! Richard John Grayson! But Hood, you said that Dick suited him better. Where are you two?”

For the first time, Hood took a look at his surroundings. “Not a building. A cavern. And not one I recognize, so not anywhere near the Court.”

Acrobat – Dick – coughed, then chimed in. “Walls are dry. Not close to any water source. And there's a tiny bit of light coming from a hole in the ceiling. Can't see anything though. Just sky.”

“Rock is grey. Don't know if that helps.” The thing traveling through him felt like it was trailing something. Like a string thing that kept it attached to the device still latching on to his leg. If he could, he would pull it out. But the device had its claws in deep, sinking into his femur. And with his hands on a short chain attached to his neck, there wasn't any good position to pull it off.

Breathing got really difficult all of a sudden. The thing, it was eating through a lung, at an angle. Why at an angle? “Red, we won't be able to... talk pretty soon. Just wanted to say... I don't regret a minute of it. Those two free weeks -wheeze -were the best in my... life. I think -gasp- my whole life, even the before stuff. So thanks. And you need... to work on defending from attacks... coming from your left.” His lung was filling with blood. He coughed out a damp cough, feeling the red trickle down his chin.

“What are you talking about? Tell me all of this later Hood.” There was the sound of keys clicking. Was Tim trying to find them?

Another breathless cough from Dick. “Sure, but we want... to tell you now too Red. Ha. What kind of brother... am I? One of you is dying right -gasp- next to me, and I'm leaving the other one to fend for himself.”

Was it just him, or was his intestine healing? “You're not! You're not leaving me! We're going to find you and you're going to be fine!”

“Sure Red. But hey, while I... have you, I just wanted to say thanks as well. You gave... me my memories... back. You know, I'd given up... on them? But you -cough- gave them back, just like you and Hood gave back... my self. Without you too, I'd probably be... another Cobb. You're my brothers, and I'll always... love you.”

Hood wanted to reply. But the thing chose that moment to finish with his first lung and start in on his second.

Suddenly, there wasn't enough air. He gasped, sucking in air and having none of it do a lick of good. Beside him, Dick was wheezing and still trying to rasp out words, but there wasn't any air.

His lungs burned, or, the parts of them not ruined by the thing did. Those parts were cold, freezing him from the inside out. Pressure started building in his head. He wasn't getting enough air, he wasn't getting any air!

Tim was shouting. “...at's going on? Are you two alr... ... alk to m... ...ease Hood, Dick! Say som...”

His lungs were burning and still the thing kept moving. Faster now. No apparent reason. His chest was heaving, taking in massive quantities of air and losing most of it. Blood rushed in from the millions of openings. Every exhale had a river following it, every inhale rattled and sloshed. Dick, his friend, his brother, was facing him. Together, they slipped into darkness.