It is obvious from the shacks design that it pre-dates the mushroom war. Exactly how old it is, I am uncertain, but I would estimate it being at least 2500 years or so. The strangest thing about this find is how remarkably well preserved it is. And not just the building, but the area that surrounds it.

The Forest:

There is a living forest that encircles the old building. How these ancient tree's survived for over two millennium in this hollow mountain away from the sun is a mystery. It is a magic that is far beyond my understanding. When I return to civilization to hire an excavation team, I will send a message to Sevne and ask him to inquire about the Mages Guild for anyone who might have an idea. Some armed guards might not be a bad idea either. I have the strangest feeling I am being watched.

Some notes on the building itself:

It appears to be a combination of a home and shop. I have yet to enter to investigate further. The outside is wooden, the roof reaching all the way to the ground giving the hut a triangular shape. A smaller outcrop juts out from it's right side. The path leading through the forest towards it is wide, obviously used for the two machines outside of it. I believe they were called automobiles, but I will have to confirm with some of my notes. Both appear to be in relatively good condition.

Description:

First machine is red with what appears to be a cloth-like white top. Perhaps this came off during the hotter months? Four doors, two on either side. Two bench-like seats inside. Round object left side front. Believe this steered the machine. The front wheels are deflated but the back are in good shape. I believe there is one in the back, half-moon shaped trunk, but I cannot open it to investigate further. Four lenses in front, two in back. Use, unkown.

Runes and position:

El Diablo; written on the left side near the front, just beyond the door

Oregon; STNLYMBL; found these on metal plates in front and rear of machine. Identity marks, Perhaps?

Second machine is completely black. Interior very similar to first. Four doors. Two seats. Steering circle same location. Steel beam pushed through front window, though. No wheel housing in back. Runes are as follows:

Kansas; KAZ 2Y5;also in metal plates, same location as previous

Large runes are also written on a sign positioned on the roof of the building itself. I've copied them down here:

The Mystery Hack

I believe there was a rune in front of the third word because of the spacing, but am unsure.

I am planning to enter the building before returning to Rocktown for an excavation crew. I'll record all I find

-Last entry in a journal found on the mutilated body of an unidentified explorer

Chapter II

The rock was mainly reddish in color, with streaks of teal lacing through it's surface. The top was flat and smooth, no blemishes to be had, its width at least eight yards. Its body tipped down growing closer together until it became pointed at the bottom, resembling an upside down mountain.

It floated in a sea of vast emptiness. A pale green light shown everywhere, but it's source was undeterminable.

Just above the rock a hooded figure floated in a lotus position, their legs hidden under a long blue cloak. A soft voice echoed from the figure, a repeating sequence of words that seemed to resonate everywhere.

'Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos.'

A low growl rumbled through the air, and the chanting stopped. The hood moved and slid off, revealing the face of a young women. Her skin was a pale grey, almost the color of the moon. Her hair was a deep royal purple, reaching just past her shoulder blade. Her eyes matched her hair, an astounding violet color, as they peered downward. She shifted her body, the cloak sliding again to reveal her wearing a black leotard and blue boots. She stared down at the creature that could have caused the only other sound in the void.

Below her, curled into a ball while it slumbered, was a large green wolf.

As the canine became exposed to the light, it shifted , lifting its head to meet the scrutinizing eyes of the women above it. It wagged its tail a little, but the women just arched an eyebrow, saying nothing.

Thinking it was in trouble, the wolf shifted again, before something very strange happened. It's whole body changed. It happened in an instant, to fast for the human eye to see, but suddenly, where a green wolf once lay, there sat a green man, cross legged, leaning back on his hands. He grinning sheepishly at the women.

'Sorry, Raven.'

The woman's face didn't change, but amusement shown in her eyes. 'Garfield, can't you find something productive to do?'

It was the mans turn to arch an eyebrow. 'What else could I possibly be doing right now?'

'Looking for a way home.'

Garfield gave a huff. 'You know I've flown as far as I can in every direction there is. Nothings out there. This is the only speck of land around.'

Raven let her legs dangle, feet almost touching the ground. 'I know. That's why it's up to me to get us home. Which I was trying to do when you interrupted me.'

'You've been at it for hours. Take a break.'

'Oh, and what would you suggest I do? Like you said, there's nothing here.'

Garfield suddenly gave a wolfish grin that put Ravens guard up. 'What?'

'I just thought of something to we could do.'

She rolled her eyes. 'And what could tha-'

Raven was cut off to find Garfield's face in front of hers. His arms wrapped around her waist drawing her close. Almost by reflex her legs wrapped around his waist while she brought her arms around his shoulders. She managed to get out an 'Oh, that.' before he was kissing her.

As he gently pulled her to the ground, she broke the kiss. 'You know, this is not what I meant by productive.'

Garfield smiled. 'Well you should have specified that this was off the table.'

Raven hmmmed before they were kissing again. So lost in each other they were that they failed to notice the white beam that suddenly streaked across the heavens. It wasn't until a thunderous rumble crashed down upon them that they looked up towards their sky in shock.

'What the hell is that?' Garfeild asked.

Being more in tune with otherworldly powers, Raven felt the vast amount of energy that resonated from the beam. With wide eye's she whispered 'A way home...'

Unknown Location

Unknown Time

Marceline didn't know what was happening to her. She was moving, she knew that. She felt stretched, as though her body were water trying to fit through a tiny hole all st once. Her eyes were closed, for the moment she was to afraid to open them, but she could feel a weight in her right hand. She knew it was Finns.

Oddly enough, there was no wind rushing past her ears. It was completely silent as she moved. Eventually curiosity overcame her, and she opened her eyes. The images that assaulted them were spectacular, each lasting but a moment, enough time for her to register it before it changed again.

A cloak figure riding horse back shot arrows at a fleeing man. A tall man in thick blue armor carrying a pistol swung a sword at a large snarling orc. A blond boy followed a girl with fiery red hair as they scaled a cliff face. An army of soldiers clad in grey charged a defending army garbed in blue. A man in brown robes swung a fiery blue saber at a figure in black carrying a red glowing sword. A metal ship with four smoke stacks and a stripped flag fired shells at a wooden ship with red sails. A women in blue with purple hair and a green raven on her shoulder. In that moment the purple haired women jerked back before she disappeared. Had she somehow seen her?

Another image flashed. It was a triangular figure. She made out a top hat and a bow tie. In its center sat a closed eye. Just as it past, the eye opened.

Then the images ended, and everything went black. She felt her body hit solid ground, and she knew no more.

12 July 1931

Somewhere within the Oregon wilderness

The shadows reached out across a grassy meadow as the sun cast it's dying light across the darkening forest. But the noises that usually accompanied an Oregon sunset were absent. No crickets chirped. No bullfrogs croaked. There were no insects buzzing in the air. Not even a whisper of wind rippled the grass. It was as if the forest was holing its breath. Waiting.

A screamed pierced the silence.

'Roderick!'

Two figures sprinted out from between the tall trees and skidded to a halt in the middle of the meadow. The taller of the two was a boy with sandy brown hair. He wore a pair of blue jeans and had plain white long sleeve shirt. A brown newsboy cap sat on his head. In his right hand was a revolver.

Next to him was a small girl. She wore a pair of overalls over a red shirt; her feet were bare. Her brown hair was in pig-tails, and a look of terror was etched on her face..

The boy glanced behind him, eyes scanning the tree line.

Finding nothing, he kneeled own in front of the little girl. 'Emily, listen to me. That thing can't be far behind. So I need you to do something for me ok?'

The girl, Emily, looked back at the forest. The darkening trees seemed to close in on the small clearing.

'Emily look at me.' The girl brought her brown eyes back to her older brother. 'Emily listen. Do you know where home is?'

Emily nodded. 'It's that way.' she said, pointing to a small breech in the trees at the far side of the meadow. She could just make out the small dirt trail leading into the forest.

'Ok. Listen to me Em. I need you to run home.' He looked at the tree line again. 'Go down that trail. Run as fast as you can. Don't look back.'

'But Roderick-'

'No, Em. You need to go.' Roderick's eyes lifted to the forest behind them again. 'Emily go. Now. Run, and don't stop till you reach town. I love you sis. Now GO!'

With a kind of a push from Roderick, Emily ran for the trail home, disappearing into the forest. Roderick turned his gaze back to the forest. It was deathly quiet. He popped open the cylinder of the Model 27 in his hands, and replaced the empty rounds. The sun was now behind the mountains, the entire meadow shrouded in shadow. Roderick clicked the cylinder in place and looked back into the forest.

The darkness crept from the trees. The silence was pressing in around him. His eyes scanned the meadows border and he saw it.

He raised his gun.

Emily ran as fast as she could along the faint dirt path. It was dark now, and the moon had yet to rise. The oppressive fog that had shrouded the town for months was beginning to return. The little light that came from the stars barely showed her route.

He breathing was growing heavier, the run taking it's toll, but she pressed on. If she could make it to the town, she could find someone to help her. She could save her brother. That thought spurred her to coax more speed from her burning legs.

BLAM!

An explosion shattered the silence of the forest, the sound echoing from behind her.

BLAM! BLAM!

Two more ripped through the night air. She knew that sound. It was her brother's gun, the one he'd been teaching her to shoot with.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

For a moment Emily stopped. Her brother was one of the best shots in the county, having one many a competition with that very gun. If he had unloaded the entire cylinder into his target...

Emily was half tempted to return to the meadow, but she had promised. She pressed on. It took her another ten minutes before she finally stumbled onto main street.

The street was deserted, but that wasn't unusual. Ever since the disappearances began, people were afraid to be caught outside after dark. Emily continued down the sidewalk until she saw her destination. A small building sat at the corner of the intersection. A light shown dully through one of the windows. Outside the front door stood a white lamp, with the word SHERIFF written in large black letters across it. Two standard double doors stood in front of the concrete steps that led up to it.

With her destination before her, Emily called on every last ounce of strength she had and flew towards the Sheriffs Office.

Deputy Jake Durlands eyes worked their way across the yellowed page of the book as he tried to concentrate on the words printed before him. Sheriff Corduroy had him on the night shift tonight. Back when he first joined Falls County Sheriffs Office, Jake enjoyed the night shifts. They were long and usually quiet, and it allowed him to immerse himself in whatever book he was reading.

But recently he had found himself dreading the night shifts. A darkness had descended upon his quiet little town, and the night now instilled a sort of dread in him. He'd rather be at home protecting his family.

His mind flashed back to when this nightmare had started.

Seamus O'Riley was the 11 year old grandson of Harry O'Riley, an old Irishman who had moved to their small town near two years ago. Seamus's parents where both dead, his mother having perished when their homestead had burned to the ground back in Ireland, and his father was killed in action in France. Harry had decided coming to this country would allow a fresh start for Seamus.

Harry had quite a bit of money from his years as a businessman, so he had bought The Tankard, the towns only bar. They had done well.

Harry had become good friends with Deputy Racket, an old veteran of The Great War. Seamus was a quiet lad, but that was to be expected.. Losing his parents had taken it's toll, but one could tell he was a bright boy. Jake thought he'd be a fine man when he grew up. Seamus had become fascinated with exploring the woods that surrounded the small town. Sometimes he could be found drawing maps of the landscape at the bar while his grandad passed out drinks. Jake had seen one once. They were quite detailed. Small streams, caves, ponds and meadows all around the quiet Oregon town were marked with little icons. There were also amazing drawings of the landscape. One of a deer. A brook trickling through the trees. The Mayfly River pouring into the lake. The boy had an artistic talent, that was for sure.

Then two months ago, Seamus had gone out into the forest and had never come back. Harry had rushed straight to the office when night fell and Seamus hadn't returned. Search parties were sent out, hounds and hunters scoured the forest. The only trace they found was the boy's small pack leaned up against a tree, notes and maps still inside. Nothing else.

It was finally decided that young Seamus was taken by a cougar or grizzly, or maybe even a wolf. Harry didn't believe that his grandson had been taken by a wild animal. He had found among Seamus's things a drawing that was different from the rest. He had shown it to the Sheriff, and Jake had to admit, it was odd. It showed a section of the forest he was not familiar with. The trees weren't the usual pines, but he couldn't identify them. What was really unusual was that every tree in the picture appeared dead. And just faintly outline there appeared to be a tall man.

The Sheriff chalked it up to the boys imagination.

That is, until the second kid disappeared. Tommy Mathews, 9, was last seen leaving the school house headed for home. He never arrived. The route the Mathews boy took home was no where near the forest.

Darryl Fredrick, the shopkeep who owned Fredrick's General Goods, said the boy had entered the store to buy candy with some money his mother gave him. When asked if he had seen anything strange, he mentioned that as the young lad left, he thought he had seen someone in an alley.

'It was odd.' Darryl told Jake while he took the report. 'This guy was just standing in the alley between Greasy's and Brick & Sons. I couldn't see his face cause he was in the shadows, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't from round these parts. I know most everybody in this town. This man was in a full dress suit, but that's not what set off the warning bells in my head. His whole body structure was off. He had long lanky arms hanging at his side, and his legs were way too thin. He had to be seven feet tall at least. I blinked, and he was gone. I thought I had imagined it, but since the boy disappeared...'

Darryl had trailed off, and it was obvious he thought that if he reported the strange man, young Thomas might not have gone missing.

Sally Turner, 10, was playing with her doll in her parents front yard when she disappeared. Her mother was washing dishes and had looked down while she scrubbed and when she looked up again, she was gone. All that was left was her dolly.

In the span of three months eleven children had vanished without a trace. School had been closed until further notice, but being so close to summer anyway it didn't make much difference. Parents wouldn't let their children out at all. The once cheery atmosphere that dominated the town was gone, replaced by fear.

Now the night shift was something to dread. The town no longer felt safe. The comforting glow of the street lamps that used to seem so bright now seemed to give off too little light. Even the weather seemed to have changed. For mid-July, the air was colder than it should be, and almost every day the town was blanketed in fog. It was as if the Earth herself knew an unimaginable evil had descended upon his little town.

Jake gave a start as the double doors slammed open and in ran little Emily Walker. The sun had already set on this now rare sunny day, and he could see the street was dark behind her.

'HELP!' she cried, dropping to her knees.

Jake dropped his book onto his desk and quickly moved to help Emily up. The girl was sweating profusely. Her cloths were covered in mud and grim. A few small sticks were caught in her hair. It looked like she had been out in the woods. A dreaded feeling started in the pit of his stomach.

'Are you ok?' he asked as he guided her towards a nearby chair. 'What happened?'

The girl sniffled through her nose. 'Roderick. I think it got Roderick.'

Jake knew Roderick Walker. He worked for the local paper. He seemed like a pretty good kid. He knew that he was a crack shot with that pistol of his, and he had recently taken an interest in the Sheriffs Office. He could be a pretty good Deputy. The feeling in his stomach grew.

'What happened to Roderick? Who got him?'

There were tears in Emily's eyes now. 'We were in the forest. Roderick had gone to get more firewood cause it's been so cold, and I followed him. I didn't wanna stay in the house. I was bored. But he caught me. He was angry, told me I should have stayed at home when he just stopped talking. His eyes was lookin behind me, and then he just grabbed me and started running. I dunno what from. But we come to that clearing about a mile down that trail offa main street, ya know the one?'

Jake nodded. He had pulled out a notepad and was writing down what she said.

'He told me to run. Run and don't stop. So I did. Then I heard his gun. All six shots he fired. And then nothing. I kept running like he said and then I got here. Please Mr. Deputy Jake, I think sumtin bads happened to my brother.'

Jake glanced at his pad. 'Wait here.'

He walked over to his desk and picked up the phone. 'Hello, Operator? Yes, get me Union 4-4475, please.' He waited patiently while the call went through.

A gravely voice came on the other end of the line. 'Sheriff Corduroy.'

'Sheriff, its Jake. Listen the little Walker girl just ran into the office. She says that something got her brother. That they were out in the woods.'

A pause was on the other end. 'Her brothers named Roderick, right?'

'Yes sir.'

'Alright I'm on my way. Have Racket come in, and you'd better call Lou. We might need his hound.'

It took all of fifteen minutes to assemble everyone. A runner had been sent to the Walkers, who hadn't a telephone, and now they sat in the office with their daughter.

Lou Bradly was a big man, standing a little over six two. He had large muscular arms that he acquired from a lifetime of chopping wood. Sitting next to him was a big brown hound dog named Sarge. Lou had trained him from a pup to track down game when he went hunting, and now he was the best tracking dog in the county.

Deputy Racket was there, a double barrel shotgun slung over his shoulder. The Sheriff had briefed both of them on the situation.

They had set out along the trail, flash lights in hand, and reached the clearing without any difficulty.

The first thing Jake notice was how eerily quiet it was. No crickets chirping or insects buzzing. Not even wind. A piece of cloth belonging to the Walker boy was held up to Sarges nose. He set of quickly, but only got to the edge of the clearing. When Jake approached, a dull glint of metal caught his light. He focused in on it and immediately recognized it. It was a Smith & Wesson Model 27. Roderick's gun. They searched the meadow, but there were no further signs. Sheriff Corduroy picked up the boys pistol, but when he turned it in his hands, something red came off on his palm.

Blood.

There were no other signs of the boy.

Roderick was seventeen years of age, completely different from the other victims. Jake knew that meant one thing.

Whoever or whatever had come to Gravity Falls had upped the ante. Kids where no longer the only targets.

An evil had fallen over the town. No one was safe.

12th November 2021 1:04 PM

Gravity Falls, Oregon

'Hand me the rachet with a 3/8ths socket, will ya?'

A hand reached out from underneath an old F150, waving around in the air waiting for the requested item. When none was forthcoming, a voice from underneath the engine block called out. 'Hello?'

When no one responded, the hand grasped the front bumper and pulled out the body of a young man. Blue eyes peered out from under brown hair in confusion.

'Mabel?'

'Mr. Pines?'

A male voice, calling from the open door to the garage Dipper himself had added to the Mystery Shack, caused Roderick 'Dipper' Pines to mutter darkly to himself and reach for a grease rag. He was never going to get this truck up and running if people were going to ditch him and strangers were going to interrupt.

He stood up, making a feeble attempt to wipe a grease smudge from his shirt, before turning to look at the newcomer.

He was a slightly older than Dipper, looking to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He wore a Levi jacket with a matching pair of jeans, and an old Indians baseball cap sat on his head. In his hand was a small notebook. A quick glance behind him revealed the man had driven up in a well maintained 1978 Ford Bronco. He could see what looked like a black striped orange doll on the dash. How he hadn't heard him drive up was beyond him.

'Can I help you?'

For a moment Dipper had the feeling that the man was gauging him, sizing him up, as if he expected to fight him, but it passed as the man spoke.

'My name is Tracer Bullet. I work for the LA Times. I was wondering if I could speak to you concerning the recent disappearances?'

Dipper gave the man a good up and down. You could tell a lot about a person from just a once over. Stan taught him that. The first thing he noticed were his boots. They were covered in mud. Not out of place, a lot of the residence of Gravity Falls had dirt access roads, and they were in the middle of a rain storm right now (which had thankfully takin a break for the moment) he probably got it from someone else's driveway. The levi attire and Bronco raised an eyebrow. Most reporters who showed up from big time papers and news stations usually had on slacks and a button up shirt. And they usually had cheap, uncomfortable cars that the company provided them with. Not immaculately clean Broncos. Then there was the way he stood. It wasn't exactly relaxed. He was straight, and his eye's never left him, but Dipper got the impression that he was expecting something to happen. What, Dipper didn't know, but the man was subtly on edge. Then his eyes rested on a spot on the left side of the mans Torso, just bellow his armpit. The bulge there was unmistakable. Any person that carried a gun or owned a gun, no matter their political standpoint, would be considered way to conservative to work for the LA Times. No way was this guy a reporter for them. He smiled internally. Grunkle Stan was a good teacher.

Dipper turned away. 'Not interested.'

Tracer, if that was his real name, eyes narrowed slightly. As Dipper continued his back into the garage, the man persistently followed. 'Mr. Pines, please. I'm sure your as concerned about the recent disappearances as I am. The times-'

Dipper spun, feeling a surge of anger at this stranger who had come to his town, claiming to be something he's not. He'd dealt with people pretending to be others before. And someone always ended up getting hurt.

'Listen Mr. Bullet,' Dipper spat. 'I can spot a phony a mile away. I know you don't work for the Times. I know you are not a reporter for any agency. Now you have exactly three seconds to get off my property before I call the cops and tell them there's a body out here.'

The man blinked. 'Body?'

To illustrate, Dipper reached into the open door of the Ford and retrieved his Remington 12-gauge shot-gun.

The mans empty hand twitched up, but realizing he'd be dead before he pulled it, let it fall again. The man smiled. 'Very well, Mr Pines. You got me. I am not a news reporter. My name is Collins. I work for the FBI.'

'Not buyin' it. No FBI Agent worth his salt would have just blown his cover like that.'

The man now claiming to be Collins began to raise his hand towards his jacket. Dipper cocked the shotgun. 'Make another move buddy, and your gone.'

'I'm just getting my ID, Mr. Pines. It's in my inside pocket.' Slowly, painfully slowly, the man pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. A badge and ID were inside: Agent Drake Collins. FBI's Seattle Office. A photo of him in a suit and his description. What looked to be a clearance level.

'Fake.' Dipper stated. Man, this guy was just digging himself deeper.

'If you look in the front slot, there's a business card. You can call my Office and confirm my identity.' Dipper didn't move to take it.

'I am not going to tell you again. Leave. Now.'

Just the, the door that led to the Shack opened, and in walked a smiling brown haired girl. She wore a tie-die shirt that hung over her left shoulder, and a pair of jeans with a hole in the left knee. Her hair was pulled into a pony tail and wrapped around her shoulder. 'Hey bro, I'm baaaawhaaaa?' she said as she caught sight of the stand-off.

'There you are Mabel. Where'd you go?' Dipper asked, never taking his eye's off the man.

'...water?' Mabel said, lifting a small glass of the clear liquid up. She obviously been oblivious to the whole thing. 'What's goin on? Who's this guy?'

'Just a reporter who was leaving.' Dipper emphasized.

Mabel scrutinized the man. 'Whys he got a fake FBI badge?'

The stranger who now claimed to be Collins, obviously exasperated, rolled his eyes. 'Alright. I'm leaving. Will you stop pointing that thing at me?'

Dipper lowered the gun, ever so slightly. The stranger turned and made for his truck. Dipper didn't take his eye's off him till he turned around the bend and disappeared along the road.

Mabel looked at him. 'So who was that?'

Dipper shrugged.

At the end of the dirt road, in front of Route 45, the Bronco came to a stop. The man inside sighed to himself. He grabbed his cell and punched in a preset number. While it rang he glanced at the stuffed creature on his dash. It was an old tiger, but it was clean and had no tears. The owner obviously took great care of it. Next to it was a picture. The man saw himself, standing next to a brown haired brown eyed beauty. His eye's got a little misty as they trace her image. He was so deep in thought he almost didn't hear the voice pick up on the other end of the line. He jumped a little.

'Hey. Its Calvin.'

A pause as conversation flowed from whoever was on the other end. 'Yea that's why I'm calling. I need your help. Get to Oregon as fast as you can. It's a little town called Gravity Falls.'

More talking from the other end.

'I don't care what your brother says, this is important. '

A pause.

'No, I'm not sure what I'm dealing with. I'll tell you everything when you get here.'

Another pause. 'Ok. Thanks Sam.'

As he hung up, Calvin glanced at the picture again. I miss you, Susie.

1500 years later

The Eldritch Mountain Range

Beneath a hollowed peak

To say the flight above a darkened forest with only the red light from a small illumination flare far above was nerve racking would be an understatement.

As Finns eye's scanned the ancient pines, every instinct in his body was setting off alarm bells, screaming at him to tell Marceline to turn around and get the hell outta here. And he would have done it, too. But for some reason his curiosity overrode his finely honed and long trusted instincts. A smaller part of him told him that this place was important, and that the discovery was worth the perils.

When they finally set down in front of the old building, Finn immediately drew his sword. Mareceline gave him an odd look.

Finn answered the unasked question. 'Something feels off. Just taking a precaution.'

Glancing around, Marceline shrugged in response. It wasn't that she didn't trust Finn, but he's always been a little edgy when it came to things so obviously engrossed in magic.

And Marceline could practically taste magic here. The very air was saturated with a high level of tense energy so thick she thought Finn could slice it with his sword. Only two things had ever caused such an effect. Most common were places where there were high magical outputs, such as Terramuk, a kind of sanctuary or school where mages studied and experimented away from major population centers. The other...

The other place she had felt an energy output like this was in a city that didn't exist anymore. Most people called it the mushroom war, but she could at least remember what they were. Nuclear bombs had grounded that city to dust, and the effects left behind was almost identical to magical resonance.

A chill crept up her back. She knew no bomb had exploded here, but a part of her thought that this was old world ruins, and if, by some chance there was a nuclear bomb here...

No. The fact that the forest surrounding this relic was alive disproved the possible existence of a bomb. There was a powerful magic surrounding this place.

Marceline closed her eyes and allowed her mind to probe the magical resonance around them. She could feel the tendrils of energy swirl and lash around her conciseness. As she moved her mind towards the building, the energetic surges became more intense. Whatever had preserved this place was centered in this building.

Finn had moved up onto the porch and was trying to peer through the window when she opened her eyes again. 'Huh.' she heard him murmur, 'Windows all boarded up.'

'Did you try the door?' Marceline asked. Finn cast a glance back in her direction. 'No. I wanted to see if I could get a peek inside before entering. Never hurts to have some semblance of a plan, you know.'

'You do realize you're kinda the poster boy for the 'charge in head first and to hell with the consequences' plan, right?'

A look crossed Finns face but it was gone almost instantly. 'Lets say I learned my lesson, ok?' he stated quietly.

Marceline was taken aback by his sudden shift in attitude. What could have caused that?

Elsewhere

While Finn and Marceline circled the porch toward the door that lead into the shack, a silent watcher stealthily slipped from its perch on one of the ancient pines. Its purpose was clear. Keep the inhabitants of this dimension away from this location. There had already been one intruder, but that was easily dispatched. Instinct told it that these two would be much harder to eliminate.

Without pause it raced through the old forest to gather others.

12th November 2021 5:51 PM

The bell above the entrance of the Mystery Shack jingled as the door swung open and a tall redheaded woman in a Roadkill County Sheriffs uniform.

Dipper looked up and shot a smile at his and Mabel's longtime friend, Wendy Courdory.

When Wendy had turned twenty she'd been unsure what to do with her life. She had tried the whole college thing, but it hadn't really worked out, and she knew she couldn't be a cashier forever. She really didn't have an interest in being a lumberjack, like all her brothers, but she had to find something.

Then the day came to pass when a flyer was put up announcing Sheriff Durlands was looking to hire on a few more Deputies for the Roadkill County Sheriffs Office. Wendy's great grandfather had been Sheriff, back when it used to be Falls County, before being incorporated into the larger Roadkill County in 1971.

So Wendy applied.

It turned out to be a good fit. Wendy's natural athleticism mixed with her easygoing personality allowed her to jump to the head of her class. The Office was looking for personal who could keep people at ease when talking to them and still hold their own if it came down to it.

And so in 2020, Wendy became Roadkill County's newest Deputy Sheriff.

'Ah hello, Deputy Courdory. To what do we owe this most auspicious visit?'

'My shift just ended and I thought I drop by.' the girl replied. She walked over and leaned against the checkout counter Dipper sat behind.

She smiled at the sight of him, book in hand, feet propped up on the counter while he leaned on the chair. Almost the same pose she would take when working checkout. 'So how are things?'

'Ok.' Dipper dropped his legs and stood to stretch. 'Kinda slow. Got some work done on the truck earlier.' He scratched behind his ear.

'That reminds me. Some guy dropped by asking questions about the recent disappearances. At first he claimed to be a reporter, but when I called him out, he pulled a fake FBI ID and tried to play it off like he was an undercover agent.'

Wendy straightened up, surprised. 'Wait, some dude claiming to be a fed showed up here? What'd he look like?'

Dipper arched an eyebrow. 'He looked a little older then me, maybe an inch or two taller. Had on a baseball cap. Cleveland Indians I think, and he was dressed up in a canadian tuxedo. I think he had blond hair under that cap. Oh, and he was driving an old Bronco. '78 or '79. It was green and really well maintained. You could tell.'

Wendy bit her lip. 'Weird. Another guy in a suit showed up the other day to talk to the Sheriff about the investigation. Claimed to be a fed too. Said the bureau had takin an intrest in the matter. Durlands had me call the office number he gave. Seemed legit.'

Dipper scrunched his brow. 'Same guy?'

'No.' Wendy responded. 'This dude was at least 6'8, and he had black hair.

'So you're saying we've possibly got two people claiming to be FBI snooping around town.' Dipper rubbed his chin. 'I don't like this.'

'What, like you don't snoop, Mister Ghost Hunter?' Wendy laughed. 'Maybe they're into all that stuff to and are just looking around. Although impersonating a federal agent is a serious offence.' she added.

She sat there thinking.

'Maybe the work for the PCB.' Dipper said, more to himself then Wendy. The Paranormal Containment Bureau was a secret government branch charged with seeking out an containing paranormal anomalies. Anything hint of something, from bigfoot to aliens, they showed up to contain and control outbreaks of potentially dangerous creatures, energies and machines.

But the PCB had the authority to incarcerate anyone without due process. True, you couldn't stroll into any old courthouse and charge someone with waking the dead or opening a hell gate, or accuse someone of using dark magics. Dipper could understand the need to keep secrets. If word got out the government had their hands on alien technology and powerful magics taken and sealed away from evil witches then there would be mass panic. People in large groups were stupid. He'd seen that before. Not to mention the national security factor. People could scream about conspiracies and secret test sights all they want, but the fact is if the government openly admitted to, say, recovering alien tech at Roswell, it could very well put the country at risk. Its easier to hide something if no one knows it exists. Especially from spies.

No, Dipper had no problem with things like that. What he did have a problem with was the PCBs tendency to ignore the guilty and the innocent and just arrest everyone involved. It didn't matter to them wether you were responsible for a catastrophe or trying to prevent it, they'd take you and you'd wake up in the middle of nowhere in a facility that doesn't exist. Of course they might just try t hire you too. They tried to hire him.

Of course he'd refused, stating that he while he'd happily chase down menaces to reality, he wouldn't condemn those not responsible. He didn't know why he'd been released, until he was contacted by the assistant director, Frank Powers.

Apparently, Powers agreed that things needed to change within the PCB, and asked if Dipper wouldn't mind acting as a consultant. That was three years ago.

Dipper knew Powers was working hard to change proto-call, but it was slow going. Many were resistant to the change.

Besides, Powers would have contacted him if they were sending Agents to investigate these missing persons cases. So he dismissed the notion.

'The PCB?' Wendy asked. 'You think there's something paranormal regarding this case?'

'Yes. Though now that I've thought about it, they're probably not PCB. Still it wouldn't hurt to check with Powers, see if he knows anything. Come with me.' Dipper walked around the counter and headed towards Grunckle Stans old office. It had been two years since the old geezer had passed away, and Dipper missed him. He had left everything to him and Mabel, and Dipper found that this was exactly where he wanted to be. The shop and tours brought in a decent earning, and Dipper was able to devote free time to his investigations. These disappearances were at the top of his list.

Opening the door revealed a rather untidy room. Bookshelves lined the entire right wall, stretching from ceiling to floor. The left wall had a map of Gravity Falls and the surrounding area tacked on it, pins marking the locations individuals had vanished, with strings running across it. News articles and photos of the scenes were posted up next to it, sections highlighted and areas of photos circled.

Kinda looks like the board we have downtown. Wendy thought.

Against the far wall sat Dippers desk. The trash bin was full, and crumpled up papers littered the floor. Books sat hazardously on top of each other, in danger of falling over. Old soda cans and a pizza box were in the corner. A few beakers and a small chem lab sat on a small table to the right of his desk. These, at least, appeared to have been painstakingly cleaned. Hanging above it was a framed white piece of paper, a few lines printed on it:

Once more into the fray.

Into the last good fight I'll ever know.

Live and die on this day.

Live and die on this day

Dipper caught here questioning look. 'It was Grunkle Stans. Don't know where its from or who wrote it. But it makes me feel like a part of him's still here.'

Wendy nodded and kicked a piece of wadded up paper sadly.

Dippers cheeks reddened slightly. 'Sorry about the mess...'

Wendy shook her head, smiling, the serious air suddenly lifted by Dippers embarrassment. It was cute. 'Don't worry about it, ya dork. I know how you get when you're engrossed in a case. Its better then when you're bored.' She glanced at the wall with the map on it. You wouldn't know it, but there were a total of sixteen bullet holes in that wall in the shape of a smiley face Dipper had put there once when he had literally nothing to do. Of course, he had just drank half a case of Bluebull energy drinks, but still. You don't get to be as smart as him and not be a little crazy, right?

'So,' Wendy continued. 'What have you found out?'

The Unknown Dimension

Unknown Time

3000 feet above 'The Rock'

What is it? Garfield'svoice echoed inside Ravens head as he projected his thoughts over their Neuro-mind link. Is it magic?

Raven scrutinized the almost blinding beam before them and shook her head. No. This is a tear that's stretching through dimensional plane. It wasn't magical energies that created this. I think it might be some sort of portal device. The energy wavelength is connected between only two points. If it were magic, the flow would be more chaotic unless controlled by a very powerful magician. And I'd feel that kind of power radiating of the summoner. No such thing here.

The raven sitting on her bobbed its head up and down. So can we use it to go home?

Raven shook her head. No. Unfortunately, because this was wrote by science and not magic, I cannot control the flow. We'd have to go where ever it is pointed. Whoever activated this must-

Raven stopped and jerked back. Garfield flapped his wings as he lost balance before settling back onto her shoulder. What? What is it?

I just saw a girl fly by. Raven thought. It just startled me is all.

If we're going to use this thing, we'd best do it now. I doubt it'll be active much longer. Garfield thought back.

We don't know anything about the dimension this has been targeted to. It could literally be pointing at hell right now.

The raven cawed. But could that be worse than this? There's more likely to be usable magical energies there. If there was anything here, we'd have found it by now. This could be our only chance Rae.

There was a slight pause. I hate it when you're right.

Garfield amused chuckle echoed in her head.

Hang on.

'Azerath Metrion Zinthos!' Black tendrils of energy shot out of Ravens hands and slammed into the white beam. They pooled over it, forming into a dark circle in front of the duo.

Here goes nothing. Raven thought and entered.

Earth Dimension C-137

Smith Residence

2:37 AM

The sudden flux of dimensional energies caused a small pistol like device to explode on the work bench in the garage. The noise knocked over the old man slumped over a hand-drawn blueprint of what looked like a death ray. A hot piece of metal caused it to catch fire.

'Go-urr-d god dammit. What the hell just happened?' The man cursed as he grabbed a fire extinguisher to put out the flames. After setting it down he scanned the now charred workbench.

'MY PORTAL GUN!' he bellowed. 'Dammit now I'm gonna have to build another one.'

Picking up a few of the pieces of the wrecked device, he raised his eyebrows, confused. 'What could have caused it to overload like that?'

He stepped quickly to one of the many devises littered throughout the garage. Activating it, he pressed his eyes to the lens.

'Danm. There's a hell of an output of dimensional waves right now. What's going...'

He paused and adjusted a few knobs.

'Wha? Dimension 46'\? Isn't that Fords dimension? What's that nerd up to?'

The man yawned. 'Whatever I don't really care. I'll just charge him for damages later.'

The old scientist turned of the garage light and headed inside.

HaHa! Chapter two. Sorry about the delay folks. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. BTW I'm sure some of you recognized that little poem. I always thought it would fit Stan's personality, so I added it in. If you notice any grammar errors I mighta missed, let me know.

Points to whoever can guess all the dimensions I listed in Marceline brief glimpses in the reviews. Besides the obvious.

REVIEW! LORD DEATH COMMANDS IT!