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buzzdixonwriter · 4 years

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Ellison’s Law

Even for the early 1960s, Burke’s Law was a silly gimmick show.

The gimmick? Millionaire Amos Burke, despite inheriting fabulous wealth, always wanted to be a detective so he joined the LAPD and worked his way up to captain of the homicide bureau.

Basically Batman without the trauma or costume.

And like Batman of a few years later, an exercise in camp.

The show was rigidly formulaic, but for practical reasons. It relied heavily on stunt casting celebrities as suspects or witnesses and as such it had to be flexible enough to handle rewrites and re-castings in the middle of production.

The typical episode began with someone found murdered or shown getting killed in some unusual manner, cut to Amos Burke flirting with a lady only to be called away by his police duties. Cue the opening title as Burke and his driver hurry out of his relatively modest Beverly Hills mansion to his Rolls-Royce (actually producer Aaron Spelling’s car which he rented back to the production) as a sultry female voice incants: “It’s Burke’s Law” then after the first commercial break Burke arrives at the scene of the crime and finds clues pointing him to four or five suspects.

Said suspects are the celebrity guest stars, recruited either to give them some manic scenery chewing time or -- more rarely -- an intense dramatic scene.

After three more commercial breaks, Burke intones one of his “laws” (“Burke’s law: Never ask a question where you don’t already know the answer.”), pulls a rabbit out of his hat / solution out of his butt, and fingers that episode’s duly appointed murderer.

The problem with the series as a whole is that it could never quite decide on what tone it wanted to take and stick with it consistently. The British series The Avengers found the perfect balance of tongue-in-cheek / derring-do but Burke’s Law bounced all over the spectrum, frequently in the same episode.

So why bring up this mediocre TV show at all?

Two words: Harlan Ellison

. . .

I’ve posted many times before on Harlan’s career and the impact of his writing and friendship on me.

He was in the mid 1960s at his zenith as a TV writer, and while his writing career as a whole encompasses so much more than that, his brief run as one of the meteors streaking across the Hollywood sky only lasted 4 years.

Oh, he kept writing for TV after that, but the old zing was gone. He supplied stories for other series, created and fought hard to keep The Starlost on track but eventually had to walk away from that heartbreak, adapted several of his own short stories to a Twilight Zone revival, as well as numerous development deals that went nowhere (including two great ideas for The Name Of The Game, another Gene Barry series, that would have fit perfectly into that show’s oeuvre).

If you find his second book of TV criticism, The Other Glass Teat, check out his first draft for “The Whimper Of Whipped Dogs” episode of The Young Lawyers (not to be confused with his short story of the same title).

It’s one of the most powerful / gut wrenching things you’ll ever read…

…but by the time the studio and the network got through with it, the final product was virtually unrecognizable…and unwatchable.

Such was Harlan’s fate after 1967 in Clown Town (as he referred to it).

But from 1963 to 1967, he was golden.

. . .

Harlan’s rocky personal history went through many highs and lows before coming to Hollywood in 1962.

Harlan’s first breakthrough as a writer was with his series of stories and essays on juvenile crime in New York in the early and mid-1950s..

Drafted in 1957. following his discharge, he settled in Chicago with his second wife and her son, editing Rogue magazine, a Playboy imitator.

Feeling his personal life becoming untenable, he called in favors from a friend, drove out to California with his soon-to-be ex-wife and stepson (aware the marriage was over, she also wanted to relocate away from Chicago), made his first sale to TV (his short story “No Fourth Commandment” to the TV show Route 66), then briefly found a sweet spot with Burke’s Law, writing four teleplays for their first season.

Burke’s Law is a good crucible for examination because of its silly, gimmicky nature and rigid format requirements.

These scripts represent a pivotal point in Harlan’s writing career, but more importantly, they mark the only sustained run he enjoyed on a non-anthology show, and as such make a good benchmark in comparing his growth as a writer and how his unique perspective played out in in relation to the constraints of episodic television.

While a couple of Harlan’s better science fiction / fantasy stories were written before 1963, the meteoric rise of his career in those genres began with his classic short story “’Repent, Harlequin!’ Said The Ticktockman” in 1965, followed by a host of other groundbreaking short stories and novellas, and his original anthologies Dangerous Visions and Again, Dangerous Visions in which he recruited other science fiction and fantasy writers -- many of them already well established pros -- to follow the path he blazed in the genre.

His experience on Burke’s Law occurs squarely between what he once was to what he was becoming, and as such is worthy of attention.

SPOILER: There are no great hidden gems here.

There’s a lot of amusing writing, and a few flashes of the emotional intensity Harlan could provide, but by and large this is journeyman level stuff: Better than most, but not the best.

. . .

”Who Killed Alex Debbs?” was his first script for the series, and he pitched it to producer Aaron Spelling at a cattle call after a screening of the show’s pilot episode.

Harlan jump started the pitch process by improvising an idea off the cuff at the end of the screening, and Spelling took him to his office to hear how Harlan planned to resolve it, then hired him on the spot.

It’s unclear if Harlan was actually a staff writer on the series or simply hung out at the studio a lot, but he used his skills as a quick study to start working his way up the food chain.

His first script fulfills all the requirements of a Burke’s Law episode and shows off two of Harlan’s main strengths: An ability to hone in on intense emotion and a keen eye for the culture around him (in this case, very specifically Hollywood of the early 1960s).

On the downside, logic gaps render this story more implausible than most -- and as noted, Burke’s Law as a series wasn’t famous for its plausibility.

A flaw of almost all Burke’s Law episodes is that the victim is typically found dead under mysterious / bizarre circumstances, and the impression we get of them is constructed entirely through the words of suspects and witnesses.

It’s not an unworkable approach, but not the best suited for episodic television.

In this instance. victim Alex Drebbs is a Hugh Hefner-like men’s magazine publisher and monarch of a mini-empire of key clubs ala the Playboy Clubs of the era. Harlan captures that milieu well but here’s where the logic gaps hit hard: There’s no way a Hefner-like figure would be alone long enough for someone to kill him without being noticed, there’s no way his disappearance wouldn’t be immediately noticed by employees needing his attention, and it sure as hell wouldn’t have happened in a deserted club on the afternoon of its big opening.

On the plus side, there are some great character scenes including Arlene Dahl as a bitter ex-investor in Debbs empire now reduced to licking saving stamps to keep her decay mansion in repair, Burgess Meredith as a men’s magazine cartoonist who is nothing but a bundle of neurotic twitches and tics, and finally Sammy Davis Jr as Cordwainer Bird, the humor editor for Debbs’ magazine.

This was at the Robin Williams stage of Davis career, when all you had to do was point a camera in his direction and let him go. Harlan supplied the corny gags but Davis launched them over the top with his antics, and while he brings the proceedings to a complete disruptive halt, his brief scene is the most entertaining in the entire series. (Harlan later used Cordwainer Bird as his WGA pseudonym when he wanted to indicate displeasure at what had been done to his scripts.)

By his own account, Harlan had less luck with Diana Dors -- “the British Marilyn Monroe” -- and treated her condescendingly during the shoot. (By comparison, William Goldman in his memoir Adventures In The Screen Trade shows a much more sanguine / roll-with-the-punches attitude, and that might explain part of the reason his screenwriting trajectory was far different than Harlan’s.)

All in all, an uneven example of both the series and Harlan’s abilities.

. . .

”Who Killed Purity Mather?” was Harlan’s second script for the series and one of the few that played with the rigid format of the series insofar as the victim is seen alive for a few moments before being killed in a rather sadistic and spectacular manner (splashed with acid then trapped in a burning house, and the high angle shot used to show her demise must have been incredibly risky -- and thus costly -- to film).

It also drops a very subtle clue that I’ll reveal in the footnote.*

This is Harlan going so far over the top he emerges on the other side. Plotwise it features more logic gaps than his first script, but the whole thing is so silly it’s pointless to complain about it.

Purity Mather is a professional witch (!) who speeds up the investigation into her own demise by mailing Amos Burke a recording saying she’ll be killed along with a list of five possible suspects (that she doesn’t mention them by name in the recording reflects the show’s desire for standalone scenes, enabling them to recast and rewrite plotlines more easily; the scene where Burke reads the names to his team was doubtlessly shot after the guest cast was locked in).

Burke & co. start shaking down suspects, including Telly Savalas as Fakir George O'Shea, a Muslim holy man / cosmetics chemist (!!); Charlie Ruggles as I. A. Bugg, an eccentric elderly millionaire who likes to chase -- but not catch -- prostitutes around his apartment while dressed in lederhosen(!!!); Wally Cox as Count Carlo Szipesti, vampire for hire (!!!!); and Gloria Swanson as Venus Hekate Walsh a fright wig bedecked self-proclaimed goddess of free love (!!!!!).

The episode might as well have had a laugh track. It’s amusing with several daft touches only Harlan could provide, but the daftness comes from his take on Hollywood culture of the time.

I’d go so far as to say elements of Cox and Swanson’s characters were based on real life people living in and around Hollywood at the time, in particular some science fiction fans Harlan had come in contact with.

It’s a romp but a disappointing one. The logic gaps are too big in this one (case in point, if you’re the captain of the homicide bureau and you come home to see a masked figure climbing out of your second story window in broad daylight, you don’t simply shrug and let them run off) and the ending is one of those annoying ah-yes-now-that-you-caught-me-I-will-admit-everything-even-stuff-you-don’t-know cappers that Joe Ruby and Ken Spears would have rejected for Scooby Doo.

In short, a script whose parts are better than the whole.

. . .

”Who Killed Andy Zygmunt?" is another slight story that pays off with an insight into Hollywood pop culture of the era. The victim is “a pop artist” (no, he’s not; he an assemblage sculptor) impaled on his own artwork.

He’s also revealed to be an extortionist who acquires embarrassing evidence that he affixes to his assemblages then blackmails his victims into buying the art to keep their secrets safe.

Once again Burke is conveniently handed a list of suspects, in this case the people who bought the last five pieces of art from the exhibit.

This is one of the few times the series had more than one suspect in the same scene as there’s a big gathering in Burke’s office midway through the story (it also includes Michael Fox, a semi-regular on the series playing the coroner, so it represents a pretty sizeable filming day for the show). The suspects include Macdonald Carey as Burl Mason, the star of a popular TV detective show (Harlan gives his scenes what we would now call a meta-fiction touch by playing off Barry’s fictional TV detective dealing with a fictional fictional TV detective); Jack Weston as Silly McCree, a kid’s show host who destroys his career with an on air anti-child rant; Ann Blyth as Deirdre DeMara, a rival “pop artist” who creates her art by spraying women with paint and having them roll around on giant canvases (a gimmick later used in the bizarre 1966 Ann-Margaret comedy The Swinger); Aldo Ray as Mister Harold, former pro-wrestler turned poodle groomer; and Tab Hunter in a surprisingly well done scene as a sky diving playboy.

Hunter’s scene in particular shows Harlan getting his hyperbole under control, much more laconic and evocative than other characters he wrote for the series. As mentioned above, Burke’s Law occurs just on the cusp of Harlan’s huge success in print; he’s beginning to harness the lessons learned to maximum effect. (He would have some setbacks, too, in his screenwriting career, and to be honest part of that can be attributed to his failure to consistently apply the lessons learned, part of it can be attributed to his reputation preceding him, and part of it can be attributed to just bad luck.)

The motives this time are fairly edgy for a 1963 TV series, and combined with the slices of Los Angeles life Harlan provides give a fair example of the cultural zeitgeist of the era.

. . .

”Who Killed ½ Of Glory Lee?” can be explained as Benjamin Glory, half owner of Glory Lee Fashions, with Gisele MacKenzie as the other half, Keekee Lee.

After breaking the budget with his spectacular demise of Purity Mather, Harlan staged this murder as an inexpensive off camera elevator plunge.

This time the plot is a wee bit more plausible, with control of a profitable business being the apparent motive for the murder.

But Harlan loaded up this episode with a more powerful emotional punch than most of his others, and while the dénouement may feel a bit farfetched, it certainly rings true emotionally.

He certainly gave Nina Foch and Anne Helm plenty to work with regarding their characters’ complicated mother / daughter relationship, yet at the same time found room for a playful scene in which Buster Keaton pantomimes his answers to Burke’s questions.

Yet at the same time one senses an impatience behind the keyboard. The opening scene has a squad of female elevator operators (yes, once upon a time there needed to be somebody in the elevator to push the buttons for you) discussing pop culture references of a generation before -- Harlan’s generation.

And while the key emotional conflicts are played out well, several of the other scenes feel rather perfunctory…yet at the same time this is probably the most cohesive whole of any Burke’s Law script, whether written by Harlan or not.

It’s as if after a brief but profitable run on a network series, Harlan realized he’d absorbed as much of the practical end of the business as he could and his next moves should be into broader, edgier territory.

* SPOILER: Purity Mather is the murderer; she connives a career nudist (!!!!!!) to participate in a magic ceremony then disfigures and kills her, leaving evidence that she hopes will convince the police the body is hers. The subtle clue Harlan drops is the victim, wearing a long black negligee, complaining about how she doesn’t like the feel of the clothes. A nice touch, but undercut by Purity then going to the nudist camp her victim operates and waiting in the buff by the front gate for the police to show up and question the career nudist -- whom Purity has mentioned as a suspect in her faked murder. While it works insofar as Purity doesn’t try to pass herself off to anyone else at the camp as the career nudist, it doesn’t scan that she would know when the police would come to investigate or if they could be easily convinced at the gate and not come in to question other patrons.

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chookity-dookity · 5 years

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Thoughts on “The Toro Regatta”

I love how Gary’s immediate first reaction upon seeing HUE’s new robot body is HUG ME RIGHT NOW. What a wonderfully sweet relationship.

And honestly, all of the reunions in this episode were really nice. “My little Spider-Cat” is the clear standout, but the Gary/Mooncake reunion and Nightfall’s cheeky “you finished causing trouble?” were also excellent moments. And just in general, this episode hit a lot of good emotional beats.

I’ve seen a lot of people saying that Olan’s voice acting is better this season, but tbh I think it’s mostly that the sound editing is better. Everything just sounds... softer? nicer? I don’t know how to describe it, I’m not a filmmaker. But I think everyone sounds a lot better this season, not just Gary.

Plotwise this episode was solidly mediocre, probably the weakest of the entire show. Lots of things just sort of... happened, with no real reason or buildup. It felt like they had a checklist of plot points to get through, and they dutifully checked them all off, with minimal sense of continuity or flow between them. But I guess that was a necessary sacrifice in order to quickly establish the overarching plot.

I wonder how in the world they’re supposed to track down all these dimensional keys, seeing as Bolo didn’t give them much help. Perhaps Nightfall knows something? As for the keys themselves, that second one is looking pretty snakelike, so I’m guessing that it’s the one that was mentioned in the Chapter 13 episode description and is somehow related to Ash’s home planet. Key number four looks like it might be connected to that spider creature that appeared in the promo clip on twitter a few days ago.

On a related note, Nightfall mentions the name “Invictus”, who I’m guessing is the owner of the creepy voice later in the episode. (And who does indeed seem to be voiced by Vanessa Marshall!) Is this one of the Titans? It/she seems to be the one pulling LC’s strings, though to what end is still unclear.

Drop-driving is also interesting, although I’m not sure I understand the purpose of it. Is “dimensional space” akin to Inner Space or Final Space? Or is it something that exists between them?

Other speculation: I’m not expecting any mid-season major character deaths this time around. If you were paying attention to the actor credits last season (as indeed I was not), then you may have noticed that Steven Yeun was included among the “starring” cast while Coty Galloway was listed in the second tier of actor credits, which kind of spoiled Avocato’s status as Decoy Deuteragonist. But this time around the entire crew (Fred Armisen, Ashly Burch, Ron Funches, Tom Kenny, Jane Lynch, Conan O’Brien, Olan Rogers, Tika Sumpter, and Steven Yeun) are all listed as “starring” cast. The only potential exception is Quinn/Nightfall, since Tika voices both characters. Speaking of Quinn...

Is Bolo being genuine here? At the end of S1 I was 98% sure Quinn would be back--not because I had any in-universe reason to think she’d survived, but just because it made narrative sense. But now Bolo offers a second narrative path: what if Quinn actually is dead, and Bolo is just using the false hope of rescue to manipulate Gary?

I’m not sure I believe that, but I definitely think all the ambiguity surrounding Quinn’s fate is intentional. Olan’s never hesitated to confirm that yes, Avocato really is dead, and he likewise spoiled everyone else’s fates almost immediately after the S1 finale. So they’re deliberately holding back information, and I’m guessing that over the next few weeks they’re going to try mislead us one way or the other. For the moment I’m still leaning more towards the “Quinn is alive” side, since dragging this out for multiple episodes just to reveal that she really was dead the entire time seems pointlessly dark in a way that’s off-brand for Final Space. But I’ve been surprised by this show before.

More than anything, I’m curious about how the next 2-3 episodes will play out. The Toro Regatta felt more like a prologue than a full episode, carefully putting our characters and plotlines into place, and I think the next few episodes will give us a clearer idea of what the overall tone of this season is going to be.

#final space #fs spoilers #the toro regatta #episode thoughts and analysis #yeahh this got a lot longer and more rambly than I intended lol

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jandjsalmon · 5 years

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Can I do all three? Or whatever combination you want? Why Betty and Jughead? I know for me, I liked season one, I wrote jokey reviews for my friends on season one and posted them on Facebook, and I was Googling spoilers (or something, or maybe something about Coachella) at the end of season one, and found Fall in Light, and that was that (this is abbreviated, but basically what happened). So what was your journey? Please and thank you! PS- just framed two paintings for the living room.

YOU are a joy and a delight, my friend. Just have to say that. Which artist painted your new living room décor?

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it if I did:

OOOKAY. So the Bughead question - I actually started shipping Bughead from the very beginning. I started watching when there were only two episodes on Netflix Canada. I watched them both the same day and by the end of the second episode I knew they were the ship for me when this happened:

So SO good on the Riverdale director of photography’s part - because that is some super sweet foreshadowing there with the out of/into focus stuff. It might have also had something to do with Cole’s collarbones and/or whole aesthetic. I sought out fanfiction immediately (as I am wont to do when I find a new ship or show) and there were, I think, about 130 fics on the archive. We’ve come a long way since then. :)

my thoughts: I like that quote Cole had after last season where it said he’d like to play Jug as more of a morally grey character - someone who believes the ends justify the means. It’s interesting because I have long felt that Jughead was the conscience of the town. Not Betty (as some people suggested) - who I really do think would do all sorts of sneaky things to keep the people she loves safe. I am hopeful and excited to see how this goes. :)

What makes me happy about them: The fact that they are eachother’s #1 support and love and soulmate. They’re SO pretty to look at. Their aesthetic of the pretty and pink girl next door and the plaids and layers of the boy from the other side of the tracks. It’s a pretty aesthetic. Add to that the childhood friends to lovers thing. The absolute devotion and love and trust they have for eachother. They get eachother more than anyone else does. They just make me SO happy.

What makes me sad about them: That they can’t just be regular teenagers. Their parents treating them so poorly.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: LOL so many things. I’ll force myself to refrain from discussing the typical ‘lack of a good beta’ issues I see regularly - like the grammar/spelling/punctuation/tense problems. Plotwise - I don’t read fics where either of them are VASTLY out of character. You can have an AU and still have them sound and act like themselves. A good AU should be “what would our characters do if dropped into this situation” rather than self-inserting wish fulfilment and I often ask myself “if I changed the name of this character - would it still sound like Jughead or would I feel like I’ve fallen into ?” - I’ll still occasionally read a fic like that - but let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? I don’t like cheating - whether it’s on eachother or on other people. I hate the fics that have Jughead become this massive addict or alcoholic or complete manwhore. I hate when Betty is written as someone incredibly broken and damaged. At some point it’s just character torture. Oooh and retaliation against the writers. It’s really clear when an author thinks that they’re going to spite write a story because they’re mad at how canon turned out. It’s fine to write AU - but it makes my eye roll when an author figures that they can ignore two seasons worth of serpent jug because they want him to be more feminist/manic pixie dream than he is. I hate when prose is so purple we could almost call it ‘Grimace’ - because at some point the author wants you to notice the pretty writing rather than the actual plot and characters of their story. I hate when dialogue sounds unnatural - and I hate when characters shout and yell in moments when they really shouldn’t…. it’s like the Dumbledore and “did you put your name in the goblet of fire?” thing… where suddenly you go… WOAH Michael Gambon! Calm your tits! Um… what else bugs me in fic? Bad tagging? If you’re going to kill a character - please tag. If you’re going to have the faves snogging someone else… tag it. I don’t want to see my notp shagging even if it’s for “plot.” This could go on for a while, so I’m going to stop here. lol.

things I look for in fanfic: Solid Characterization. A happily ever after (always). Clever banter. Tropes (they’re tropes for a reason). If there is angst and unhappiness… I want some payoff before the end of the story. Like, if I have to sit through them pining from afar - at least eventually give me kisses. Emotional rollercoasters and character torture isn’t for me. I need the payoff.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I’m monogamous when it comes to my Bughead. I firmly believe Jughead is completely Bettysexual and has loved her since he understood what love was (since she shared her cookies with him in Kindergarten) - and as for Betty… if she were to find love without Juggie, it would have to be in a universe where there was no Jughead - and it would have to be away at college with some guy who isn’t a canon character… and except in one small case of “kinky excellence” - I wouldn’t want to read about it at all.

My happily ever after for them: University graduated. Published Jughead. Mom and Dad to three kids - happily married, holding on to one another through every trial life throws at them. Both working hard in their prospective fields (which generally turns out to be some kind of sleuthing/investigating/writing) - and both just happy and to go to school concerts, elementary school sports games, science fairs, and to give their children the love and support they didn’t have from their parents growing up. Breaking the cycle.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Jug is the big spoon. Betty rests her head on his chest while he sleeps on his back. He winds his hands in her gold hair and breathes easy knowing she’s safe right there beside him.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: In the future - it’ll be Jones Family Movie Night every week with their children (something I’ve done with my kids for the last ten years) with popcorn and cookies and no devices at all - but where they are right now? Sleuthing and Milkshakes. Or sitting beside each other, her feet in his lap while they’re both reading… or better yet, he’s typing away on his laptop, idling rubbing her foot, while she’s reading beside him.

Send me a ship/character and I’ll answer these questions…

#ask game #i may have answered too much #i apologize in advance

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davidmann95 · 6 years

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This week's comics? Specifically, new Tom King Batman/Green Lantern?

Hoo boy, this week was a hefty one. Tackling your requests at the top, and no spoilers this week:

The Green Lantern #2: It’s surprising how non-action-driven this has been for the first couple issues - it really is space cop stuff first and foremost, in this case an interrogation. I see what Morrison meant in interviews when he said people would take Hal’s voice as odd in this, and I hope he’ll follow though when he said the core of his take’ll be a little clearer soon, but even so I’m liking him well enough as the traditional straight-take superhero anchor to the 2000ADness of it all. The Oa spread on page 7 is absolutely jaw-dropping, and the guest villain of the issue explaining his name is the best thing in superhero comics this week, and possibly this year.

Batman #60: I’ll admit the last 5-6 issues or so haven’t been tremendously doing it for me, but it certainly looks like it’s about to pick back up. And good lord, Jorge Fornes had better be getting any assignments he pleases.

Justice League #13: Grisly at it gets, the best word I can think of for this issue is a romp. It’s total old-school superhero adventure and villainous monologuing, just minus the hero part of that. Honestly, I’m almost worried about these Legion of Doom one-shots’ role in terms of the integrity of the run as a whole *as a Justice League run*, because it��s this side that feels so much more vibrant and fleshed-out. Granted Snyder and Tynion get full ownership of the villains involved so there’s more room to play, but I almost feel like this team would rather just be doing a Legion of Doom book period, because this is where the whole thing sings, great as the regular League stuff in here always is too.

Adventures of the Super Sons #5: I rag on Tomasi, but he’s not a bad writer, he’s a writer with specialties. And Super Sons is hitting all of those specialties, and I love it.

Shazam! #1: I checked this VERY tentatively on a recommendation and from how great the premise sounded, and unbelievably, it’s good. Not the next big thing by any means, but great superhero stuff that takes a modern bent on the material but maintains the warmth and wonder that defines Marvel at his best. It reads for all the world like a writer doing a very deliberate course-correction from how horrifically Geoff Johns fucked up the character top to bottom…except it’s actually Geoff Johns, essentially pulling a 180 on his own reboot? Whatever, Johns somehow rules (though there’s one or two lines in the backup that feel like notable Johnsisms), Dale Eaglesham rules, Mayo Naito rules on the backup, and this book, on the whole, rules.

Archie Meets Batman ‘66 #5: Feel like it’s lost some steam, but on the whole it remains a delight regardless.

Border Town #4: Everyone should still be reading this.

DIE #1: Kieron Gillen is a writer whose craft I can always respect, but usually it isn’t until reread that I truly get a kick out of his work. Don’t know what the difference is here - Stephanie Hans, the premise, the tone, the small core cast - but this seems to be the one that’s gonna grab me right off the bat.

The Wicked + The Divine #40: On the other end of the Gillen spectrum, I’ve been lost here for awhile, so I appreciate this issue essentially reestablishing the fundamentals of what’s up as we head into the finale.

West Coast Avengers #5: Digging this! Quietly one of Marvel’s upper-tier titles at the moment. Still wanna grab Thompson’s Hawkeye run someday.

Marvel Knights #3: Fine. Exactly good enough for me to stick around for 3 more issues, knowing Cates is coming back for the end.

Shatterstar #3: I’m not convinced this shouldn’t have just been a one-shot about him as a landlord, but it’s still fun and it’s easily got me for the two remaining issues.

Killmonger #1: Top-tier shit by two creators I already loved but still underestimated. Hill has a remarkable talent for switching up his style with each project, and Ferreyra is going to be The Next Big Thing.

The Merry X-Men Holiday Special: Initially more miss than hit for me, but the ratio improves over the course of the book. However, while I was glad to see Hanukkah represented a fair deal, I can’t help but wish they called it the X-Men X-Mas Special.

Venom #9: Issa ittle-bittle Venom pupper! Otherwise solid but mainly left me more looking forward to the immediate future than getting much from what we had here (even if it laid the foundation here for what makes said future worth looking forward to).

The Best Defense: The Immortal Hulk #1: Rules. It’s Ewing Hulk (or really in this case Ewing Banner, the first story where he’s truly taken center stage other than kind of #2, making it in my opinion fairly indispensable to Immortal Hulk thematically if not plotwise), of course it rules.

The Best Defense: Namor #1: Also rules! I knew Zdarsky more than had the chops for heavier material, but this still came as a surprise that excites me for his Invaders, and Carlos Magno was a name I don’t believe I’ve seen before but quite liked. Kind of dislike though that each of these is a #1 when the recurring sequence and checklist in the back really does give this an implicit reading order; it’d definitely confuse readers who didn’t go in already knowing how this was gonna be structured.

The Immortal Hulk #10: Still the best comic on the stands, though there’s an ad placement at the end I really feel detracts from the big moment. And someone asked about the title, and I’m pretty sure it’s the mythic reference rather than an SCP one, even if I could imagine Ewing having seen that at some point.

Martian Manhunter #1: Absolutely brilliant on every level, more than carrying me through a startling premise I’m not at all geared to accept by default. Keep an eye on this one, I can’t imagine it not being one of DC’s most acclaimed books for the entirety of its run, and J’onn’s definitive story pretty much by default.

The Unexpected #7: Sharply picks up as it screams into the finale, but it’s still in every way a pale shadow of what it should have been.

Doomsday Clock #8: Well, it’s certainly still fascinating. At the 2/3rds mark Superman finally takes his place as the advertised co-lead, and while it’s probably the least technically ambitious issue so far (on that note, for a series as meticulous as this tries to be, it’s very noticeable and distracting that Superman switches between the plain red cape and having the yellow s-shield on the back), it’s probably the most thematically interesting and true to the described premise of the whole thing, showing Superman at his best trying and failing to function in a DCU that’s had its narrative underpinnings usurped by Watchmen. This is definitely on the better end of Johns’ treatment of him, with the whole issue anchored by a genuinely wonderful scene between him and the other major hero taking point for this specific installment,* and that’s what makes it work when everything goes to hell.

* It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out why Johns picked the character he did here, even if ‘long time’ in this case means ‘actively thought about it for literally seconds’: (rot13.com) ur'f gur Ahpyrne Zna. Trqqvg? Nyfb, juvyr fbzr crbcyr unir ernq vg gung jnl, V qba'g guvax gur vqrn ng gur raq vf fhccbfrq gb or gung Sverfgbez vf Znaunggna, whfg gung gur raretl fcvxr orsber gur gryrcbegngvba ng gur raq orybatrq gb uvz engure guna Ebaavr. Nyfb, Puevfg V ubcr gurl qba'g ernyyl chg gur WFN onpx nf choyvp urebrf cerqngvat Fhcrezna naq gur erfg ol qrpnqrf. Jbefg ynetr-fpnyr ergpba QP rire chyyrq, yrffravat yvgrenyyl rirel punenpgre vaibyirq.

#Green Lantern #Justice League #Shazam #Doomsday Clock #Captain Marvel #DC Comics #Marvel #Week's Comics #Opinion

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codylabs · 6 years

Text

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, 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 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, 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.

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.

Dhw’v ysfzysev los nyufgzl vt mgkydafn hbv xpsl gm vyi rtfw ophb yox, wgjrwhx cttz zpa, zzmstafn kckn sie, jlgnztr walo vcd… Vprzswg nykj cgmsr lrode s uowfu zzgwlosl, igtsw s mogzrj; a tjlsx knlt ogbzx xxzw dsyuyi gyd klychxkc afv tclv vzwwjmif, lteid los zlzfrw ovifu hp swubfy wuc hwj jvccjcef, sur nykj cgmsr cenlbal h kiiro ox losci uhn… Al dom r jcese avyp nld kzhfyu, gyd vjlog knpy zsk zimko, ak ebqb ry ehwq’k zimko esuo cnykc.

Bml os qry oesv ucq.

Yk hak vlox.

Rto wzwys qry dhw?

Los zfm zf mfjchjitomkusmj ywoodf zcwzpd sfk gbv uaefwk vyi kjek, lv hubk sej xpfmk mzov dvce rz sej flk bfsp.

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.

#The Forest Of Daggers #wendip #wendy x dipper #gravity falls #scifi #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #fanfiction #fanart #alien #robot #ghost #wendipweek #sorry this is so late I just drew the picture today lol

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rwbyremnants · 7 years

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NOTES: Sorry for letting two weeks pass, didn't mean to lose track of time. Hope you like the update! Things are gonna start moving a little quicker plotwise now; not NECESSARILY because of what happens in this chapter, but it will affect things. More to come!

=Chapter 13

“Hey, Snow Bunnies! Check out where I am!”

The camera panned over to the backdrop of Times Square. Lights flashed and blinded the viewer, turning everything into a smear of colours as it slid back to Weiss’s poorly-lit face, grinning from ear to ear. Her other hand nipped a strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear as the first raised the phone on its selfie stick a little higher.

“Big things are gonna happen in the Big Apple! I’d say more, but who wants all their surprises spoiled? Certainly not me! See you soon!”

As she waved vigorously before tapping the button to stop recording, Yang approached from behind the camera and chuckled. “You sound like the biggest cheeseball.”

“Quiet, you. The fans like to see that I’m happy and my energy is up. Don’t ask me why, but it’s kind of… reassuring? Just watch Demi Lovato’s stuff, it’s all either silly or inspirational. They expect me to be positive and they have every right to expect it by now. I can’t let them down.” Then she put the phone and the selfie stick away. “Now let’s go before someone watching my Insta realises where I am and tracks me down!”

Even as she said that and they turned toward the Yamaha, there came a squeal of several young female voices from deep in the crowd. “Uhhh, too late – get on! Now!”

Yang didn’t wait, but picked her up and stuck her on the seat. They were roaring away from the curb just as a knot of superfans broke through the rest of the throng, starstruck looks in their eyes. What a lucky near-miss.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” she asked Weiss as she dropped her off at the bus a short while later.

“Stop worrying,” her principal sighed with a roll of her eyes, handing her helmet back. “I’m fine. You are not our entire security team. Go see your sister.”

“Okay.” Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she darted in for a quick peck on her lips, making sure it didn’t turn into anything longer just in case they were caught. “See ya soon.”

“I’ll be counting the seconds.” The smirk made sure that Yang didn’t know whether or not she was being sarcastic.

The streets of Manhattan were terribly busy at all times, and almost impossible to navigate. However, equipped with her bike and the GPS on her phone, Yang did manage to find her way without losing herself in the shuffle. Also, without having to untangle the clusterfuck that was the subway map. Now that they had taken care of Weiss’s little social media check-in, they could get on with the rest of their night.

A quaint little place in the upper east side was where Ruby and Penny had selected for their meeting – at Penny's insistence, her being the native. Chinatown would be the more desirable place for dining, since it would remind her of her dad’s cooking, but it was a lot further away from both where the tour bus was parked, and Penny's home in Astoria. A reasonable compromise.

Finally, she managed to find a decent place to park, pretty close to the small bubble tea establishment for which Penny gave her the address. Yang had never tried bubble tea herself, but when Penny and Ruby insisted, she couldn't exactly say no. She had chosen the very same outfit that Ruby and Weiss helped her purchase the first time they met up, a small token that she hoped Ruby would recognise.

As she stood on her toes to try and find the two, she spotted the same mess of ginger hair in a corner booth, sat beside what she thought was Ruby. So right away she headed over, sitting herself down on the seat opposite.

"YANG!" Ruby gasped, then grinned as she threw her arms forward – and was stopped by the table between them. "Hllgg! Whoops, heh…" Scratching the back of her head sheepishly, she sank back down next to Penny. "But I'm so glad to see you, sis!"

"Right back at you, nerds! Happy Easter!" Yang grinned, settling herself down opposite Ruby. The other two had already gotten their drinks, but Yang wasn't too concerned. She just wanted to catch up with her sister. "I still can't believe you're here! How the heck did you pay for your ticket?"

That caused Ruby to blush slightly, and she glanced at her companion out of the corner of her eye – who was currently sipping tapioca pearls up into her straw. "Well… Penny paid my way. One of her dads is a lawyer, so…"

"Hmm?!" Accidentally swallowing one of the bubbles unexpectedly, Penny had to cough and beat her chest to try and force it down right. Once sure it had settled, she quickly looked around to Yang. "S-sorry. Yes! Dad paid for one half of her flight, and I've offered to pay the rest out of my savings. I get more allowance than I usually need, so I was more than happy to!"

"Cool. Well, as long as you both don't mind! I'm so glad you’re in town." Quickly bringing out her phone to check the time, Yang scratched the top of her head nervously. It would be four hours till she could see Weiss again. No matter how confident she was that Weiss would be alright on her own, she was still worried.

"Wow, are we that boring already?" Ruby attempted to joke when she noticed Yang checking the time. But when Yang didn't answer immediately, her smile slipped a notch. "Wait, are we?!"

"Huh? Oh! Nononono! I was just seeing if Weiss messaged. I'm just… it’s my job, y'know?"

As Yang rested her cell phone on the table, Penny stood up, looking over at both of them. "I'll fetch Yang a drink while you two catch up on things, shall I? You did say you had lots of Weiss-related questions."

"Oh! Um, sure! Yang, what'll you have? I like the melon one," she added in a whisper.

"Um… I've never actually been to these kinds of places before. Y'know what, fuck it – surprise me!" As Penny nodded politely and left, Yang looked over to her sister again, quickly flipping her cell phone over so the screen was down – proving she was giving Ruby her complete and undivided attention. Where to start?! There was so much she wanted to say about their touring together that she hadn't had time to before. About the attack that happened, about Weiss in general, about Blake…

In the end, she settled for something else. "So… Penny's pretty nice, huh?"

Both of Ruby's cheeks lit up as she grinned, pushing her glasses further up her nose. "Oh yeah, she's totally the best! I can't believe I got so lucky with her as my roomie - I mean, she's cute, she's smart, she's nice, AND she actually cleans up sometimes instead of being a slob like-" Her words clipped off when she realized she was about to say "like you", but she had the good grace to look slightly abashed for the near miss.

Yang simply smirked at the near slip. Ruby tended to only ramble this much about a subject if she was very passionate about it, like with Weiss, or her studying, or Zwei. Things were beginning to add up in Yang's mind…

"So being here instead of home, that was your idea? Or Penny's?"

"Penny's. I mean, we both kicked around the idea of hanging out in New York sometime, like, a lot, but she was the one that asked if I'd wanna do Spring Break here and stay at her family's place and all that." Then she grinned. "Isn't it exciting?! I'm in New York City!!!"

"Yeah! It still blows my mind that we're the other side the country, and you're here at the same time!" After taking a glance to see how far Penny was down the queue, she turned back to Ruby, slinging an arm over the empty chair next to herself. "So, what are her parents like?"

"Oh, her Dad's super nice, really chill and homey!" Then her expression turned a little more uncertain. "Um… her Father, on the other hand… it's not that he's mean to me or a bad person, he's just kinda strict, and hard to warm up to, I guess."

"He really does sound like Weiss's dad…" But as soon as she let that slip, she quickly snapped her eyes open. Yang wouldn't know that unless she was extra close to her idol, and that was the last thing she wanted Ruby to suspect. "I-I mean, like, he's pretty strict with the rules I have to follow. No photos, no unscheduled signings, yadda yadda."

However, Ruby wasn't quite that thick. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Yang, contemplating. "Why are you acting so funny about Weiss's dad? Is he being mean to my sister?" Suddenly, she shot to her feet. "I'll show him a thing or two about how my sister gets treated!!!"

"Ruby! Ruby!" She held her hands outward, trying to gesture for her to sit back down before any more attention was drawn to them. Checking the coast was clear, she laughed before whispering, "I meant mean to Weiss. Like… she's not allowed to do what she wants, dress how she wants, think for herself. She may be a popstar, but she still has so many rules set by him that she kinda feels boxed in sometimes."

"Oh…" That didn't seem to cheer her up much, but she did at least sit back down. "That's really not cool; I mean, she's such an awesome person – and obviously she's accepting of you, and she was so nice to me! She’s great how she is! So what's the point in him being so, so… control-ey?"

Yang shrugged her shoulders. "That's what I don't get; she’s got a better head on her shoulders than most people ten years older than her, and yet he treats her like she’s five. I mean…" She looked around a moment. Sure, she wasn't about to let the fact that Weiss and her were an item out of the bag, but there was a factor she remembered Weiss's father telling her before the tour began, one that Yang always cringed at when she remembered. "Even if she wanted to, I'm not allowed to let her, y’know, take anyone back to the van. If that's not controlling, I don't know what is."

"You mean she can't even have friends over? To her own tour bus?!" A little slow on the uptake, she seemed to eventually catch on to what Yang was implying, and the little sister blanched. "Ohhhh, you mean- WOW, that is SO none of his business! Geeze!"

"I know, right? He has no right to dictate that kinda stuff…"

But the blush was only growing against Ruby's cheeks as she fidgeted with her cup, staring into space. "I mean, if Weiss happens to find somebody she likes, and wants to take them back to her room… kiss them, play with their hair… maybe even let them give her a back massage… or I could go lower than her back…" Then she sat bolt upright, mortified. "THEY! They could go lower than her back! Not me, I didn't mean me!"

Shit. Of course, how could she forget? Ruby had a huge crush on Weiss. Considering the more recent circumstances between them, that made her big sister start to feel very awkward. After all, this was now her girlfriend Ruby was talking about – but she definitely couldn’t say she felt weird hearing her talk that way about her now, since their relationship was on the down low. Curling a finger through her hair, she tried to look to one side to shield her own blush.

"Y-Yeah… I mean, she can do what she wants. None of her dad’s business."

"Exactly! Up to and including massages! Or more!" Whispering to herself, she added, "No, don't think about 'more' - you promised not to do that!"

Yet again, Yang couldn't look at her sister. She'd give this all away if she asked her to stop, but to let her continue was only making things more and more uncomfortable. Scratching her head, she said quietly, "Don't tell her dad, but I… tend to look the other way when her… partner visits."

"Partner? Oh, so she…" Then her eyes went really round, and she leaned as close as she could, hissing under her breath, "Y-you mean Weiss has a secret lover?! And the tabloids have no idea?!"

That only caused her blush to intensify. Thankfully, she figured Ruby wouldn't suspect a thing. "Oh yeah, for a little while… somebody already close. But I can’t say anything – and you didn’t even hear this much from me, okay?!"

Something like a tiny squeal sounded deep in Ruby's throat, but muffled enough so that no one from other tables would probably notice. "I'm so freaking jealous! Wait, so who is it? No no no, don't tell me – I shouldn't know, oh I shouldn't know about this, but I wanna know so bad!"

Finally managing to handle herself enough, she looked back around, letting out another small nervous laugh. "Maybe when the tour is over. It's… really no one special. But she wouldn't want that info getting out anywhere – and I know you would never do anything with it, but you can't be too careful who hears."

"Who hears what?" Penny asked, placing the drink down in front of Yang. From the looks of things, she'd chosen orange juice to go with melon bubbles. Sitting herself by Ruby's side, she went straight back to her own tea, even though most of the bubbles had gone.

“My point exactly,” Yang snorted.

"N-nothing!" Ruby laughed nervously. "Just, you know… stuff! And things!" She gestured between Yang and Penny. "So, um, this is my sister; Sister, this is my Penny!"

Instantly Penny's eyes were just as round as Ruby's were, a blush joining the freckles on her cheeks. One of those words was certainly the cause. Leaning in toward Ruby, she nervously whispered. "R-Ruby, I thought we weren't telling her about that yet…"

"About what?" Her eyes crossed slightly as she ran back over what she had said, and then she slapped herself in the forehead. "D'oh! Th-that wasn't what I meant, I just got my words all mixed up!"

"So… your Penny, huh?" Yang could turn it to her advantage this time. At least it shifted the subject away from Weiss for a little while, and eased Yang's worries. As a bonus, she loved watching her sister get embarrassed.

And Penny wasn't helping at all when she just covered her face instead, groaning loudly into her hands. "Gosh darn it, Ruby, she knows!"

Slowly but surely, Ruby started melting down into her chair, covering her head with one of her various hoodies; today, it was a green one with a big white symbol in the middle from some comic book series or other.

"So I take it Ruby's the dominant one in this relationship! This just gets better and better!" Yang was teasing, quickly drinking a large portion of her tea. It wasn’t bad, even if the sensation of the tapioca pearls sliding down her throat was a little weird. But mostly, she was just glad to have it as a welcome distraction.

Although it seemed the other two needed it more. Penny especially, who could only cover her face with her hands. Although realising Ruby was vanishing under the table, she quickly pulled her back up. "Don't leave me alone with her! It was you that made it obvious!"

"Well… well it was… OH SHUSH, I didn't mean to and you know it!" All that was visible was her nose and mouth, and even then you could still tell she was beet red.

"Come on, your big sister wants details! Who asked who? When did it start? Were you roommates before or after it happened?"

Yang was going to keep insisting until one of them gave an answer. And now that she had ran out of drink and was left with just the few bubbles, Penny knew it was going to be her. Clearing her throat, she looked over to Ruby nervously as she held her hand under the table, and then back to Yang. "Well… Ruby and I were roommates from the beginning. We got along rather well, liked many of the same movies and books and things… and the relationship developed into a more romantic one from there."

"Yeah," Ruby added quietly, finally peeking out now that Penny had made it acceptable for them to be more open. "Um, I mean, I've never had a girlfriend before, so this is super new to me, so… but I mean, um… I can't imagine life without her now. Is that weird, this soon?"

Oh, the things that Yang wanted to say about her own experiences. Especially those recently. But for now, she had to smile, and simply shake her head. "That's not weird at all. First love makes people feel all kinds of ways. I mean, you know what I was like with Blake…"

At that, her sister tilted her head slightly. "Yeah, you said in a text that you saw Blake again, right? Was that… I dunno, awkward? Not awkward? Like I said, this is all new to me, so I don't know how it is seeing old girlfriends or anything…"

"No, actually! I think… I think we both needed it. I mean, we left on a somewhat bad note before; not fistfight bad but… heartbreak bad. But we're almost to the besties level again now. She has a new boyfriend now who seems pretty cool."

"Aww," Ruby sighed. "Was meeting the boyfriend weird? Yet again, another thing I know nothing about, but that seems like it would be worse than just seeing her again by herself."

Yang was half way through chewing one of the bubbles as she shook her head, swallowing before continuing. "Well… At first it was, sure. But after a while, nah. He seems like a down to earth guy, reminds me of me before I came out. Guess Blake has a type!"

At that, Ruby smiled slightly. "Really? You think maybe he's…"

She gestured to Yang with her cup, a very non-specific gesture that would make nothing obvious to anyone who didn't know about the bodyguard's gender history. It took Yang a moment to realise, until she gasped, "Oh! No. Least… I'm pretty sure he's not." But on that note, she gazed into nothing for a moment, trying to remember what she could about him. Specifically, a comment about sizes. "Aaand from something Blake said, I don’t think he’s a trans dude, either."

"That'd be cool, though! You could be buddies!" Then she glanced at Penny slightly nervously before adding, "And, um, maybe you can give him some… tips? With Blake? What she, uhhh, enjoys?"

"Ruuuubyyyy!!!" Yet again Penny was hiding her head in her hands, cheeks as red as Ruby's usual hoodie. All of which was making Yang smirk and chuckle to herself. Penny was just as much fun to wind up as her sister was!

But nonetheless, she leant in toward her, whispering, "Never underestimate the power of some dedicated foreplay. That's all I'll say in public."

Which was plenty to make Ruby turn even redder than Penny. "Ummmmm I have go to the bathroom!" she squeaked as she hopped up, sprinting for the corner of the establishment.

"Hey, don't leave me alone with her! Ruby!!!" But Penny was left with no choice as she watched her girlfriend vanish into the bathrooms, left only with a red face, and the now laughing older sister. As she ran her hands through her mass of ginger hair, she laid her head on the table and groaned. "This dinner is going to be so embarrassing…"

A very self-satisfied Weiss Schnee strolled into a mid-sized music store in Midtown Manhattan. By all online reviews, Williams Music was known for having top-of-the-line instruments, even if they didn't have a lot of variety due to space constraints. However, she was after was one specific instrument – which they definitely stocked. She had called ahead to be completely certain.

Spotting an employee lingering by books of bass tabs, she said in a polite-but-frank voice, "Excuse me. I need to purchase a guitar."

"Other end of the store," was the abrupt response of the store clerk. Her look was fitting for this type of establishment; bright green hair swept to one side, with a purple hoodie on top to hold it together. She certainly seemed the type to spend many hours tuning her bass under a blacklight. But despite the fact that all she was doing for the moment was chewing gum and reading, she didn't even stop to look at who asked her.

"Yes," Weiss began again, mood only slightly dampened by the attitude of the clerk. "I'm sure that's where they are located. But I'd like to make sure I get the best you have."

The employee finally set her book down. Of course, her attitude was still no better as she first looked her form up and down, before she started to pace toward the back of the shop. She didn't even stop to check if she was following! After all the preferential treatment she had received the past couple of years, Weiss was sorely tempted to whip off the sunglasses and the beanie she had stuffed her hair into. Why shouldn't her star power command a little respect? But she had promised Yang she wouldn't take unnecessary risks, and she aimed to keep it. Besides, it was kind of nice to have someone treat her just like anyone else for a change.

Finally, they arrived at an array of guitars along one wall. Most of them were various high-end electric models, racked up next to electric basses. However, there were six or so acoustics on display, and they all looked nice enough.

"Excellent! So… which one would you recommend? I'd pick the most expensive, but that's not always the same as buying the best."

"If you got money to burn then go for the Epiphone, I don't care." Turning back around toward her, she gestured to the black guitar, one that had a few white markings painted over it. There was no immediate response. Picking up that she was unimpressed, the clerk sighed. "What skill level is the player at? Unless it’s you." The last was tacked on purely for spite, insinuating that Weiss couldn’t possibly be a musician.

"Expert on Guitar Hero." After a few seconds, Weiss folded her arms. "Fine. She's got some real talent that I want to encourage – and I intend for the guitar to reflect her talent level. Also, I want it to last a long time, so nothing made with flimsy parts."

Looking at the racked up guitars again, the punk paced down slightly to the plainish yellow guitar, one that had a mottled brown-and-red pick guard below the sound hole. "Then you want a Yamaha JR1. Pretty mid-range pricewise, durable. For her skill level, it'll be the best choice."

"Hmm, that particular brand would be quite fitting…" Brushing over the surface with her fingertips, Weiss eventually took it from the employee and hefted the weight. "Seems solid enough.” Then she played a couple of easy chords, tuned a peg very slightly and tried again. It piqued the employee’s interest a little more, though she didn’t comment directly. “Does it come in any other colours? This finish is nice, but seems a bit… common. If the sound and quality will be the same, I would rather get her something that shows I put more thought into the gift."

"Nothing stoppin' you gettin' a paint job. But we have a catalogue of the ones we offer right… here." Picking out a small book from the shelf under the display, she quickly flicked through the pages until she found the Yamaha section. Then she handed it over to Weiss.

After a few seconds, Weiss took her sunglasses off and clipped them to the front of her shirt as she glanced down the selections. There weren't many besides the yellow finish; a natural one, a cherry red one, and one that seemed to take the yellow one and add a dark stain around the edges. That one appealed to her the most, and she had a suspicion Yang would appreciate it, as well.

"Do you have 'Tobacco Sunburst' in stock at all?" she asked as she looked up.

"Maybe, but I don’t- don’t…"

When her eyes caught those of her customer, she found herself completely freezing solid. She knew that face, those eyes, the white hair… even the voice. It'd snapped just who she was talking to at last. Weiss Schnee! THE Weiss Schnee was there in that very music store!

But she couldn't let her know that. Not yet. First, she had to be sure this was her, and do her job. So instead, she nodded. Voice now a slightly higher pitch, along with an awkward smile, she tried to sound as detached as before – and failed. "Sure! Let me just go fetch one from the back room for you!"

"Uhh… thank you. Oh, and if there's a matching case for it, I'll also take one of those!" But the woman was already retreating, so she simply hoped she had heard her request and turned to browse through a potpourri of guitar picks that were littered about in a basket.

As her assistant wandered into the store room, her mind was completely abuzz. Even though she was set on her task, she couldn't stop thinking about what she had just saw. 'That was Weiss! Holy shit, that was actually her, in the flesh! You've been trying to get into one of her concerts for well over a year and she walks in, and you treat her like crap – way to fucking go, Reese! Why are you like this?'

When she found the selection of guitars, she grabbed the finish she had asked for. The nicest one in the stockroom; it was the least she could do. And on her way back, she went to look for a case that would match it fairly well.

'Okay, calm down… It still might not be her. But if it is her, she'll have a tour bus or something, right?' She picked up a yellow ones that had a tribal dragon design over its casing. Something was telling her this would be the one she would want. 'That's it!' she thought as she made her way out with both items. 'Get Arslan to ring her up, then you can sneak out and follow her on your break! If it's not really Weiss, you come straight back. If it is, can you imagine the stuff you'd see?!'

When Reese returned from the stockroom, Weiss had selected two or three picks that struck her fancy and was inspecting a tuba out of boredom. When her eyes alighted on the case, complete with guitar tucked inside, she began to smile.

"Ooh… you know, I think that complements the guitar quite well."

'That's her, definitely. You've listened to more than enough interviews to know her voice.' She handed both items over to her seemingly famous client. Now she just had to get away for a while.

"I figured it did, y'know, the whole torched thing, plus a dragon. Now if you head over to my friend at the counter, they should be able to put it all together as a package deal for you; we’re having a promotion for guitars bought with cases. Knock off a few bucks."

"Ah," Weiss said with a polite smile as she took the case. By now, they both knew that the money didn't matter to someone like her, but Weiss didn't know Reese knew. "Well, that is much appreciated. Thank you for the assistance." Then, with a slight nod, she headed off toward the counter to complete her transaction.

"No, thank you…" She spoke quietly to herself as Weiss headed to the counter. Her plan was in action. As Weiss was being served, she made a quick dash to the staff room to sign herself out for break, then grabbed her skateboard and headed out the main doors into the hustle and bustle of the outside crowd. If she blended in, she knew Weiss would never have any chance of noticing her…

Sure enough, by the time Weiss was through talking to the dark-skinned woman with bleached-blonde hair at the counter, signing warranties and declining to become part of their mailing list, she had forgotten about Reese entirely; she was too focused on having made one of the most important purchases of her life.

"Yang is going to love this," she whispered to herself as her burly security guard motioned to the cabbie who had kept the car idling for her as she shopped. The man hopped out and helped her situate the large giftwrapped case in the back seat, where Weiss would still have plenty of room to sit next to it on their way back to her bus, the guard taking the passenger seat.

Thankfully, the traffic was rather slow in the area. Which meant that she couldn't easily keep up with the taxi in the traffic without having to get her own, but she managed – even if she did have to hastily warn some of the bystanders to jump out of the way. Every time there was a red light, Reese had caught up again, even if it had managed to get a few metres down the road.

Within twenty minutes or so, they were back to the parked bus. As the guard assisted Weiss with her things once more and Weiss tipped her cabbie generously, Reese was keeping an eye on them from a distance. It was definitely her, and the bus proved it one hundred percent. Now was the next issue: getting in unnoticed.

The guard held the door open so Weiss could struggle with the overlarge case. It wasn't all that bulky, but then again, Weiss was not an especially big person. Then she was inside and out of sight, the guard remaining outside of the door.

'This is gonna be a little tougher than I thought,' Reese mused as she hid her skateboard nearby. What were her options? She could hardly pay off a guard, not when she was barely making enough to afford an apartment in the Bronx. Nor could she fight him down. The only other option was…

A window. Weiss had left one of the windows at the rear of the bus wide open, presumably to let in the fresh air while she was out. It wasn't in the eyeline of the guard, and so pacing to it was simple. Keeping out of sight of him, she walked around to it, listening out for any possible sign that Weiss would be out of the way so she could enter, or at least just have a look…

A light humming was coming from the window. Not loud enough to signal that she was in that room itself, but she was definitely in the bus. Then the sound of running water gave away her location. It didn’t stop, which meant a shower, not just washing her hands; perfect. She wouldn't be coming out for a while.

Hauling herself up and straight through the window; she tried to make no noise whatsoever. And landing on the sofa meant she did that with ease. She'd done it! She was inside Weiss's tour bus!

"Oh man, nobody's ever gonna believe this," she whispered quietly, heart pounding in her throat. Where to start? What was she even doing in there?! The main room didn't have much to offer of value; just a few tables and seats, the wrapped guitar in its case, a couple of pairs of boots… though she happened to notice one pair seemed a bit too big for the diva herself.

Curiosity was getting the better of her, and when she looked toward the main bedroom area, she couldn't resist. As quietly as possible, she made her way inside, nudging the door closed behind her to make sure she was hidden that while longer. Yet even there offered very little in actual items that would make for a really cool memento. Was Weiss as pure and dull as everyone believed?

However, one thing did catch her eye in an unexpected place. In anyone else's household, she would have turned her nose up at the sight, but here, there was a story to tell in the laundry basket. One she couldn’t believe. On top lay a pair of black shorts, stained with the telltale remnants of a wild night. That added with the bigger boots she'd seen…

‘Weiss isn't the innocent, All-American sweetheart everyone thinks she is,’ she thought to herself with a quiet chuckle. ‘Shoulda seen that coming…’

Suddenly, the sound of running water stopped. There were shuffling sounds from inside the bathroom; it wouldn't be long now before the diva emerged, and the bedroom was her next likely destination. Eyes snapping wide open, the intruder realised she didn't have much time left. She needed to take something if she wanted people to believe her! Some kind of trinket that wouldn't be noticed, but enough to prove it.

Spotting the hairbrush on the small dressing table, she quickly nabbed it, forcing it into the large pocket of her hoodie and making her escape to the door. That would have to do. But as she opened it, she realised her escape plan had come too late.

Standing before her was Weiss herself, one towel tucked around her torso, and another wrapping up her hair in a makeshift turban. Those were the only things covering her flawless white skin. For a few seconds, she merely blinked at the girl who was somehow in her bedroom – and blushing from being this close to a nearly-nude celebrity. Then she opened her mouth, and the first words out of it were almost inane.

"Um… can I help you?"

Her intruder didn't even have any words. All she could do was stare back at the underdressed diva in front of her, blinking herself a few times to try and focus. Her mouth did work for a second, as if she could come up with anything to say that would fix this situation.

Until she made a quick dash toward the open window again.

"HEY!" Weiss shouted loudly, pelting after her. "Wait, wh-what are you doing in here?! And where are you going?!"

She almost cut off her retreat, but not fast enough. The intruder had already thrown herself out the window, dashing away from the scene. The damage had already been done; a complete stranger had been in her home, raided through her things, and made off to tell the tale.

But what she didn't consider was the bike pulling up just by the bus from the opposite side. Yang had managed to get back early, with the thought in mind of using the shower herself before they headed for dinner at Penny's. But upon dismounting, she could hear a strange amount of shouting…

All Weiss could think to shout while half of her torso was hanging out of her living room window was, "STOP! THIEF!!!" One arm held her towel over her chest while the other was levelled in the green-haired punk's direction as she snatched up her skateboard from where it had been stashed behind a trash can.

There was no hesitation. Instantly Yang was in pursuit by foot, dashing right past the van and heading the same direction as the green haired thief. In the busy streets, it was a difficult chase, especially when numerous people were looking around at them, curious of what was happening.

But having barely made it past one block, the chase was over. Yang had launched herself forward, latching her arms around the green haired thief and tackling her to the ground, sending her skateboard flying backward in the opposite direction. Despite her requests to be let go, Yang held firm, managing to adjust her position to pin the girl's hands behind her back, where she held them firm.

"What's the big deal?! I didn't take anything valuable! I just looked around!"

"You can talk to the rest of the security team about that. Now move it!"

Unconcerned about the growing crowd around them, Yang had hauled the green haired thief to her feet despite protest, keeping her hands restrained as she walked her right back to the bus's location. At least that way, the security could hold her until authorities were phoned, and Weiss could get answers she needed.

By the time Yang returned, Weiss was wearing a simple white dress and green flats that didn't particularly suit each other, but they had been pulled on in a hurry. Her hair was still in the turban. A crowd had gathered outside the bus, one or two people snapping pictures with their phones, and she certainly didn't want to be caught with a towel that could fall off at the worst possible moment.

"Thank you for grabbing her," Weiss sighed in relief. Then she fired back up at once. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself – and I can't believe you followed me here from the store!"

Teeth gritted in mild pain, Reese struggled in Yang's grip. "Hey, what do you expect?! Not every day a popstar comes in. Real question is, someone as big as you, why'd you leave a window open?!"

The comment only made Yang angry for Weiss. Right away, she pulled the girl's arms in tighter behind her back, growling lowly. "Because she's still a person? An open window ain’t an open invitation into somebody else’s home! You ever consider that before you did this?!"

"Exactly!" Weiss agreed heatedly, hands on her hips. "You have broken the law, and I'm afraid you're just going to have to live with the consequences!"

"Come on, anyone would have done what I just did! It doesn't matter if I broke some dumb law or not! Anyone would have jumped at the chance to get a sneak peek into Weiss's life – which as it turns out ain't so innocent after all!"

That response earned a few gasps from their gathering crowd, not to mention, a rather horrified look from her bodyguard. There wasn't anything to give things away inside the bus, was there?

"Wh… I don’t understand, what are you talking about?" Weiss breathed, quietly enough that the others gathered would not overhear. Her blood was running cold, her palms tingling.

"Some of the clothes in there aren't yours, and some of your laundry is… extremely dirty."

Right away, Yang knew. She remembered leaving the shorts she had used to wipe away the remains of that night in Weiss's laundry basket. But what angered her more than this intruder knowing that business was knowing that she had been in her bedroom. It was such a violation. Before she could reflect on that for too long, she forced her toward the nearest security staff to hand, trusting them to hold onto her instead. Any longer and she knew she would have ended up doing something she regretted.

But Weiss wasn't above a low blow. She followed, keeping an eye on Yang's clearly upset features out of the corner of her eye. As the police sirens began to reach her ears, she leaned in and grasped the collar of Reese's hoodie.

"Listen, you. Maybe I do have a personal life outside what I let my fans know about. But it's still my personal life – and you're still the one who broke into my bus AND went rifling through my laundry! How can you stand there and judge me?!"

"Because everyone else is gonna do it anyway. You really think cuffing me’s gonna change that?" Reese shook her head. She looked scared, but also angry at being forced to own up to her own actions. “God, all I wanted was to get a souvenir and a story! You really forgot where you came from. Well, good luck sweeping this one under the rug.”

Those were the last words the scorned fan spoke before the security staff hauled her away toward the oncoming police cars. An ominous warning that this was going to change Weiss’s life. But she didn’t know anything – not really. Whether it was the ramblings of a crazed fan or not, Yang didn't care. All she did was glare at the woman as she was forced into the back of a squad car.

But upon noticing how big of a crowd had actually gathered around them, that seemed to be the last straw for her. Raising her hands upward, Yang practically spat, "What's everyone gawking at, huh?! Show's over!"

Once the suspect was in custody, an officer had taken Weiss’s statement, as well as Yang's; finding out she was employed to protect Weiss's interests seemed to be enough to satisfy their curiosity as to why she had chased down Reese on foot. They did turn up the hairbrush in her pocket, but it could not be returned yet; it was evidence now. The fingerprints from her window provided only one clear set; there were others inside, but they were so muddled up with her own and Yang's that it didn't matter. None of the police even gave the laundry a second glance – luckily for them both. It was such a cut-and-dry case of a fan breaking in to steal a single item that there seemed to be no need.

But now they had to deal with the consequences of Reese’s outburst. It may be just a minor inconvenience for everyone else, but for Yang and Weiss, this would have widespread effects. Even if Yang's reputation was completely unharmed by the transpiring events, Weiss's was potentially under threat. All it took was one silly rumour to potentially ruin her reputation, and get her in major trouble with her father. Yang cared more about that than anything else.

Taking a seat in the sofa, she hesitated a moment before she asked, "You okay?"

"No," Weiss sighed, face in her hands. "I feel so stupid – I shouldn't have left the window open, but I wanted to air out my musty bus, and it was only… I thought the guard being with me at all times would have been enough, he should have been enough! Why can't people just… just let me live my life?!"

Rather than say anything else, Yang sighed deeply, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her body in close. The very idea that this whole thing happened was enough to make Yang's blood boil. But she couldn't let that feeling take over. Weiss was her priority. And she was going to do everything in her power to make her feel safe again.

"You're right, it should be enough." Yang repeated, stroking her shoulder softly. "Don't blame yourself, you're allowed to have a window open, it's not like you're a prisoner."

"But I shouldn't have to post a guard at every corner of the… oh, never mind. I just hate this." Sighing, she leaned back against the couch. "And now I don't feel comfortable here, I… god, I just want to be home in Nashville for once."

Looking around the bus a moment, Yang count understand why. The idea someone had been in here without either of their knowledge, even if no harm came to her… the thought of someone rooting through their personal belongings was enough to make Yang's skin crawl.

"Well… we could always book a hotel room or something. I mean, we're here for all your gigs, right? It’s gonna be a while."

"Suppose you're right. And… and maybe that sounds okay, but I don't want to draw undue attention to this by having people camp outside the hotel, trying to figure out why I'm there instead of my bus."

"Ugh… you're right about that. What else can we do?" Leaning forward, she ran a hand over her face as she tried to think. The bus wasn't the best place to be at the present, and hotels would draw attention. It was a shame that they didn't know anyone in the city that had a place of their own-

Then Yang suddenly snapped her fingers instead. They did know someone in New York City. Perhaps not with a place of their own, but it didn't hurt to ask. And with that knowledge in mind, she pulled her cell phone back out of her pocket, quickly typing away.

"Let’s try for a plan B."

#white noise #freezerburn #freezerburn fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

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