We Never Left

3s a Crowd

*Stans Point of View present time

I'm such an idiot! I got the government involved, next thing you know the Army, Marines, Air Force, Secret Servants, the Paparazzi, everyone! And some idiots got too close to the border and got lured in by something. So now a mile radius parameter was set up and even I can't get in. Plus, I got arrested like, 4 times. And I had to fake my death again when I ran into someone owe money to.

The kids' parents are beyond pissed off. Let's just say, I'm glad I re-faked my death for more than one reason.

Then a few weeks ago, the giant pink ball-thing whatever you call it split into three. One marbled pink and blue one with a shooting star, except the star part was a tree. A deep green one with a question mark. And a light green one without any visible symbols or pictures, but it almost looked plaid.

Every day I tried to get in. Every day I was stopped. Sometimes just feet from the barrier. I just had to believe they were ok. Then yesterday happened. The bug marbled bubble thing split into two. A pink shooting star and a blue tree. A Pinetree. Dipper and Mabel. And if that wasn't bad enough, Bills psychopath henchmen -Henchmainiacs more like- paraded my brother along the border. I almost didn't recognize him. His face and skin were burned beyond recognition. His clothes were shredded and covered with blood. His dorky side burns were burnt off. His boots were gone, and his feet were cut up and bleeding. But before they even announced him, I knew it was my brother. Because he still held himself high with pride, or dignity, or whatever heros got. The stuff that gets them killed.

"Make way for the Author of the journals!" A freak with nothing except limbs and teeth proclaimed. Ford stumbled forwards as another freak, this one tall and pink, dragged him forwards by blue chains.

I throw down my binoculars and charge the line of police and military personnel. Thats my brother, I need to save him! I never said what I needed to tell him and they could kill him!

Some idiot journalist gets an idea from me somehow. Suddenly camera crews, reporter's, and basically anyone with a camera rushes with me. I slow down and let them do the work as I slip on my brass knuckles. Lets do this.

I don't even know what happened next. One thing, I'm rushing the people with guns, the next I'm waking up in a bush just outside the border. Its night and my head is groggy. Not even gonna ask. I wait for the patrol to be as far away as possible. Then I rip the bush out of the ground. I travel slowly along the border for hours until I'm as close to the mystery shack as I'm gonna get. It'll still be miles to go. But I have to try. I take a quick look around. No monsters on the other side and no humans close enough to do anything. I stand up with the bush in hand and run over the line. Nobody even seems to see me. Just as well I suppose.

I might be 68 years old, but remember that not even a month ago, I busted myself out of an interrogation room full of federal agents with no real weapons. I'm the definition of a bad ass. Case closed.

I managed to run the entire ways to the mystery shack without any trouble except a creepy gnome I'm pretty sure tried to marry Mabel. I dealt with it quickly.

Don't worry. Hes fine. Unless something finds him unconscious. Then he's probably dead.

BUT THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSING WITH MY PRECIOUS PUMPKIN!

I get inside and bolt the door. I lean against the door, heaving. Finally I catch my breath enough to do a quick sweep of the shack. Nobody, and nothing here. I need a plan. What would Ford do? Or Dipper.

Wait.

Theres a reason I'm left. What would I do?

A plan slowly forms. Its not complete. But thats fine. Im an unpredictable factor. If we have to play Ciphers game, its time to make my own rules. Its show time