Chapter Text
February 25, 2013
The vengeful demon standing in the door of the Mystery Shack possessed only four items in the universe:
Two safety pins.
A time tape tied around his waist like a belt.
And a tunic he'd fashioned himself in the style of an ancient Greek Doric chiton, folded and pinned so perfectly that the wearer must have seen them thousands of years ago when they were at the height of fashion.
Soos couldn't identify an authentic Doric chiton. All he knew was that the tourist who'd just come in looked like a short fat lady with brown skin, curly golden hair, weirdly skinny arms, bulging jaundiced eyes, and a toga made out of a bright purple children's Pony Heist bedsheet.
Soos laughed, flashing the tourist a double thumbs up. "Hey! Awesome toga. That should really be like a thing. Imagine if we all wore togas. We could just wake up, roll our bedsheets around us like a burrito, and go out!"
"Watch out, you can't tell when Big Fashion is listening in."
"Haha. Who?"
The tourist hadn't looked at Soos once; instead, her gaze was darting around the shop restlessly.
"Are you shopping for something specific?" Soos asked with his best customer service voice. "Post cards? Snow globes? Weird taxidermy thingamajigs? Pants?"
“Where are the Pines?” the tourist asked, casting a sharp look at the “employees only” door, then the vending machine.
"Oh, Mr. Pines! The original Mr. Mystery! Heh—he actually retired a few months ago. The Mystery Shack's under new management!" Soos planted his fists on his hips and puffed up his chest. "It's me, I'm the new management."
"But where are they?" the tourist pressed.
"Uhh, he and his bro are somewhere in South America, I think? Hey, if you wanna meet him in person, his last letter said he might visit for spring break if the family can make it. First week in April."
"First week in April," the tourist muttered. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door, thoughtfully fiddling with the time tape wrapped around her waist.
"Oh, dude! I've tried to use a tape measure as a belt too! Haha! It worked great, until I bumped the button and it retracted. Yeesh. Hey, do you want a fur belt? We sell fur belts now." Soos turned away, rummaging through the new display next to the t-shirts. "They're all sustainably, ethically harvested! I bought a bunch of old rugs from the Northwest Manor to slice up."
Soos grabbed up a fuzzy pink belt. "Check it, I think this is unicorn hide or something. Bet it'd go so good with that Pony Heist toga..."
The tourist had seemingly vanished in thin air. Soos looked around. "Huh." He shrugged and stuck the belt on a shelf beneath the cash register in case she came back and decided she wanted it later.
Once all the other visitors had left for the day, and Soos was left alone to clean up, he thought back to that togaed tourist whose yellowish eyes had never stopped moving—the way she'd looked toward the door as though worried someone was following her. Soos glanced around the shop nervously. "Is anyone there?" He lifted his broom like a samurai sword. "Hello? Big Fashion?"
Nothing answered. He shrugged and kept sweeping.
###
April 1, 2013
A vengeful demon who possessed nothing but two safety pins, a time tape belt, and a purple Pony Heist bedsheet chiton stood in the center of the Mystery Shack gift shop.
Which was weird, because Soos didn't hear the door and she totally hadn't been standing there a moment ago.
"Oh hey! Toga Lady!" Soos turned to Wendy, who was picking up a few bucks working spring break while Melody visited her family. "It's Toga Lady. She came in like a month ago. The toga's cool, right? I think it's cool."
Wendy glanced up, choked back a laugh, and scrambled to grab her phone for a picture.
"So, where are the Pines?" Toga Lady asked, with an edge of impatience.
"Oh, dude, did you come all the way back here to meet them? Sorry, the Mr. Pineses couldn't make it. They couldn't get a flight out of Atlanta." Soos stopped, frowned, and pulled a water-stained letter from his pocket to double check. "Sorry, Atlantis. Something about a giant lobster attack?"
"Daryll would pick now to invade," Toga Lady muttered. "I suppose the children aren't here."
How did she know about the children? Maybe she'd visited last summer and remembered them? Like, early summer, before Pony Heist came out. Soos would have remembered the toga. "Naw, heh. They went to Roswell."
"Oh, cool," Wendy said distractedly, busy texting a picture of Toga Lady to everyone she knew. "Checking out the competition."
"Yeah, Dipper's sending me like a billion pictures of the alien museum."
"Well," Toga Lady said impatiently, "when are they showing up?"
Soos was beginning to get the impression that Toga Lady was less an admiring fan, and more one of those customers. The kind that used speaking to the manager as a threat. All the same, he said, "June first, for sure. That's when the kids get here for summer break so the Mr. Pineses are coming too. Definitely. Promise."
She rolled her eyes—one of them twitched, like she'd gotten something in it and was struggling to keep it open—but said, "All right, fine! June. What's the difference? I've waited this long." She leaned next to the door by the snow globe shelves, fiddling with her belt, as if she was settling in to wait right there for the next two months.
Soos frowned—she might drive off tourists, blocking the door like that—but said, "Oh! While you're here, I thought you might be interested in this belt." He reached past Wendy to grab it from beneath the cash register. "I didn't get a chance to show you last time before—"
He looked toward the door. She was gone. "Huh. Did you see Toga Lady leave?"
Wendy shrugged. "Wasn't looking."
"Huh." Soos replaced the belt. At least he knew when he'd see her next.
###
June 1, 2013
"What's with the belt?" Stan asked.
"Oh! It's for a regular." Soos pointed with both hands at the fuzzy pink belt peeking beneath his suit jacket. "I think she's comin' today. She wanted to meet the original Mr. Mystery."
"Hey, an admirer." Stan's chest puffed out and his grin widened. "Is she cute?"
"Uh... if you like bedsheet togas?"
"Ooh, a party girl."
"These are new," Ford said, inspecting a jar with an alien fetus floating in green goo.
"Oh, yeah!" Soos said, following as Stan joined Ford at the glass display case. "Dipper sent me like, a billion keychains of these little alien guys from Roswell. So I started filling Abuelita's empty spice jars with aliens and green jello. Cool, huh? It looks like we stole them from a secret government lab or something."
Stan laughed, slinging an arm around Soos. "Listen to this! Brilliant! I knew I put the right guy in charge."
Soos grinned goofily. "Aw, gee, Mr. Pines..."
A flash of purple caught the corner of his eye. Toga Lady was leaning next to the door by the snow globe shelves, fiddling with her belt.
Here was a chance to show off his great business instincts with Stan watching. Time to make a sale. "Oh, hey, Toga Lady! I didn't hear you come in! Still rockin' Pony Heist, huh? Hey, I've been trying to show you this belt I think you'll like..."
But she wasn't listening to him. Her gaze was fixed on the Pines twins' backs. As Soos watched, her expression darkened, and her grin widened.
The vengeful demon reached past the snow globes, seized a heavy "mysterious green crystal cluster ($250)" made of glue and broken glass, and heaved it up over his head. "Hey, Sixer!" Face contorted in a snarl of a smile, he turned the cluster over, sharp shards pointing downward. "Welcome home!"
Bill Cipher swung the glass weight down toward Ford's head.
"Mr. Pines! Watch out!"
Ford was turning to face his assailant when Soos barreled into him. They crashed into the glass souvenir case. Ford tumbled over it and to the floor, bringing a dozen jars filled with plastic aliens and lime jello with him. Soos felt the heavy glass sculpture slide down along the back, ripping through a layer of fabric. Aw. That was his best suit.
From the ground, Ford grunted, "Thanks." Stan rushed around the souvenir case to help Ford up.
"Sure thing, Mr. Pines." Soos steadied himself, then face down the murderous tourist.
She was panting, still clutching the glass weight in trembling arms, one eye half squinted, face contorted in a hateful snarl toward Ford—before her glower fixed on Soos.
He returned the glare. "You! If you wanna get at either of the Pineses, you'll have to throw down with me!"
"Cute, a warm-up round! What the heck, why not." One corner of her cruel sneer quirked up. "I've got time to waste."
"Bring it on!" Arms outstretched to seize the tourist, Soos lunged for her with a roar.
And she vanished.
Soos crashed into the souvenir display beside the shop exit, knocking one shelf off the wall and dumping a pile of snow globes and hats to the floor. He looked around wildly. "What?"
Ford gingerly stood with one hand on Stan's shoulder for support and the other on the souvenir case. "Where did Bill go?"
Soos stared. "Bill?"
Ford stared back. "That was obviously Bill! Didn't you recognize his voice? What did his eyes look like?"
Soos's heart leaped into his throat as his adrenaline doubled. "Wait, that was Bill?!" All he'd noticed was that the "tourist's" voice was kinda nasally.
Before Ford could answer, the "tourist" reappeared, in the exact spot Soos had barreled through just a moment ago. Soos and the Pines flinched back.
Ford looked over the intruder's ridiculous purple pony-covered robe. "All right, I can see why you were distracted."
Bill cackled. "And it works on you, too!" He heaved the glass sculpture onto one shoulder, stumbled back a step under the weight, and chucked it toward Ford's head.
"Duck!" Stan tackled Ford to the ground again. The sculpture shattered on the wall behind them. Soos lunged again for Bill, only for him to snap off his tape measure belt and vanish again before Soos's eyes—
—and instantly reappear across the room, holding a heavy replica diver's helmet made of iron. "I've gotta hand it to you, Stanley—" Bill grunted under the helmet's weight, "—you've got quite a toy collection!" He spun to build momentum before heaving the helmet toward Stan's face.
Stan caught the helmet, slowing it down enough to bruise his jaw rather than shatter it. He charged for Bill, who was still trying to regain his balance, with fist raised—"And your head's gonna be part of my collection when I'm through with you, you freak!"—only for Bill to vanish again.
And then the room dissolved into Bill-filled anarchy. Soos's view of Stan was blocked by two more Bills, one picking up a fake ancient clay tablet, the other weaving the other way to pick up the diving helmet off the counter where it had sat for years undisturbed. The pair flashed each other finger guns, then with a synchronized snap of their measuring tapes they disappeared. Meanwhile two more Bills appeared next to the taxidermy mermaid case, and with a laborious heave toppled it against Stan. One immediately vanished; the other paused to catch his breath long enough for Stan to shove off the mermaid and take a wild swing toward his face, but the punch only hit air.
"How's he doing that?!" Stan yelled.
"Time tape!" Ford said. "Dipper wrote about them in my journal! I—"
Another Bill appeared, swinging one of the Mystery Shack's novelty 8 ball-topped canes down on Ford.
Ford crossed his wrists over his head, narrowly catching the cane in the crux and diverting it to the side. Bill blew a raspberry in his face and disappeared again. Ford drew a futuristic space laser Soos did not know he had, and shouted, "I've seen similar devices before! While Bill's using time travel combat he can anticipate our moves and appear anywhere!"
Ford said the phrase with such conviction that Soos had to ask, "Is 'time travel combat,' like, a legit thing?"
"Yes! I've studied some myself—although I never progressed past a yellow belt."
"Dude."
As Soos surveyed the sea of Bills, he realized, to his horror, that Bill's now-removed time tape belt had been the only thing keeping his pony toga closed. He instinctively clapped a hand over his eyes when he caught sight of a sliver of skin exposed from armpit to foot.
"Oh, you've studied!" Bill's mocking laugh was a thin, strained wheeze. "Always the scholar! I'm self-taught. It makes me less..."
—a Bill appeared, tripped Soos, raised a hand just before another Bill appeared to throw him a clay tablet, and vanished.
"... PREDICTABLE!" Yet another Bill swung an 8 ball cane down at Soos with a grunt of exertion. Soos barely jerked his head out of the way. His ear rang from the crash of the 8 ball on the floor. "This—hahh... this thing's more durable than it looks," Bill panted, then vanished.
Stan shouted, "So what's the plan?!" He had resorted to standing in one spot, taking wild swings at any Bill he could see, forcing them back out of his striking range. Soos hadn't seen him land a hit yet.
"Converge on me!" Ford had never gotten out from behind the (now shattered) glass souvenir case, and was using it like a shield as he swiveled his laser toward any Bill that got too close. "Wall to your backs! 360 degree awareness!"
Soos got up on a knee. A snow globe thrown from the far side of the room hit his skull. He saw stars. "Ow?"
"Come on, move!" Stan jerked Soos up and dragged him toward Ford. Dizzy, Soos instinctively covered his eyes as more Bills flashed by.
When they finally shoved their backs to the wall behind the souvenir case, Soos cried, "That was the longest ten-foot run of my life! How do we fight a time traveler?!"
"For starters," Stan snapped, "You could try looking at him!"
"I'm sorry Mr. Pines, I can't help it! He's got womanly curves and that toga is really indecent!"
A cackle, "If I knew you were that easily distracted, I wouldn't have bothered with a toga at all!"
"My Abuelita raised a gentleman!" (Abuelita—she was probably still in the living room napping in her chair, just one door away from the gift shop. If Bill found her—)
Ford fired a futile laser shot toward the voice, then batted aside the Mr. Mystery bobblehead Bill had chucked. "He's very good at this—he hasn't accidentally appeared in the path of our counterattacks; he's improvising split-second stable time loops with his trans-temporal iterations—the sophistication of his chronological choreography—"
Appearing perched on the corner of the souvenir case with his legs crossed, Bill said, "Nerdy but flattering!"
The Pines started. At the sight of way too much leg, Soos automatically hid his eyes again. Between a crack in his fingers he saw Bill pull a novelty 8 ball cane from a basket with a dozen more and mutter, "It'll probably break after the first swing, but what the hey. Polo!"
A second Bill appeared. "Marco!" He threw the cane to himself without looking, the second raised it to prepare to hit an unseen target, and both vanished just in time for Ford's laser shot to harmlessly pass through empty air.
Ford groaned. "He's even timing his banter! This level of time travel combat is vastly beyond my expertise! We'd have to get lucky enough to wrestle the time tape away from him—but when he's got eyes on the battle from the past and future..."
Stan snapped his fingers in Ford's face. "He's bedazzling you with that gizmo, Poindexter! Forget the time travel. He's not using his space demon magic, his aim's terrible, and look at him—he's got little noodle arms! He can barely lift the stuff he's chucking. It took two of him to knock over the mermaid!"
"The mermaid case has wobbly little legs," Soos pointed out. "I've almost knocked it over by accident like a million times."
"And he's been outta breath since the fight started," Stan went on. "This weird time travel junk means he's been fighting longer than us, right? He's barely on his feet! I say we start swingin' like maniacs! It'll only take one good punch to lay him out, no matter what time he jumped in from!"
"You make an interesting point!" Bill said.
He was standing between the trio and the shop exit—face flushed, breathing heavily, sweat plastering his golden hair to his forehead and soaking the collar of his toga, arms trembling as he leaned his weight on the 8 ball cane. But he was still wearing his hateful, squint-eyed grin, like he'd just thought up some nasty new trick. "What can I say, I've always been more brains than brawn! But, consider this: what if I make ten of me, and we throw every single piece of junk in the room at you!"
There was a split second of horrified silence, broken only by the snap of a retracting tape measure.
And then the room was a storm of purple pony bedsheets hailing down cheap knickknacks.
"Dudes, get behind me!" Soos protectively cupped his hands behind his head and turned his back toward the brunt of the projectiles to shield the Pines. Novelty keychains and out-of-date roadmaps pelted his back. "This is the most annoying fight ever!"
"Annoying—until a lucky throw concusses us! We have to retreat," Ford said. "Our only chance is to get somewhere he hasn't been yet and catch him the first time he comes into the room. Come on!"
He tore down a cheap tapestry to fling over the trio like the world's flimsiest shield. They charged first toward the museum entrance, veered away when another Bill chucked the invisible man's glasses through the doorway, and then turned toward the living room.
"No," Soos gasped, "This way!" He dragged the trio toward the vending machine.
Stan tried to yank away from him. "Are you crazy?! Lead Bill to all the dangerous science stuff down there?"
Soos was already punching in the vending machine code. "I'm sorry, Mr. Pines, but I'm not letting a crazy killer triangle get my grandma!"
Ford said, "Even with the worst equipment in my lab disabled, the living room's still safer—"
There was a fourth person beneath the tapestry. "Peekaboo."
Soos and the Pines screamed. Bill grappled Ford and his teeth went for his face—Soos and Stan pried Bill off of Ford and flung him out from under the tapestry, and the trio barreled down the basement stairs.
They waited until the elevator door was closed and they were descending toward the basement before taking off the tapestry and heaving a sigh of relief.
"That was close," Stan said. "He didn't get you, did he?"
"No," Ford sighed. "Thank goodness for that."
Soos said, "Dude, wouldn't it be crazy if like, he bit you, and then you turned into a triangle?"
Stan and Ford stared at him.
"Heh. You know. Like a were-angle?"
Solemnly, Ford said, "Yes, it would be crazy." He turned toward Stan. "Anyway—you were right about his strength, Stanley. I've dabbled in my fair share of martial combat styles during my travels, and—well, if he's a black belt in time travel, then he has the hand-to-hand combat skills of a second grader. And whoever he's possessing, she's not terribly strong. If I'd had more free space to move, I probably could have broken his arm in three places."
"Whoa!" Stan laughed. "The next time he grabs you, I'll just back off and let you do your thing!"
Ford gave him a wan smile.
The elevator stopped. Ford strode out first to check on the defunct lab equipment, followed by Soos; Stan emerged last, walking backwards, keeping an eye on the elevator as if he feared something would come out of it. "So," Stan said, "All we gotta do is stop him at the elevator before he starts pulling his time tricks in here, right?"
"Precisely," Ford said. "And, if we're lucky—"
"—I won't come downstairs an hour before you, right?" Bill said.
Ford and Soos whipped around. Bill stood silhouetted in the yellowy light of the open elevator, novelty 8 ball cane in one hand, pointing a familiar-looking laser at the back of Stan's head. Ford frantically patted down his empty hip holster, and sucked in a breath. Slowly, Stan raised his hands in surrender.
"Now I know why you're just a yellow belt, Sixer," Bill laughed. "You never learned how to cheat!" Bill had clearly taken the opportunity for a short break: he wasn't gasping for breath or dripping sweat anymore. But there was still a faint tremble in his arm as he held the gun up.
Ford began, "Bill..."
"No talking, Stanford," Bill snapped. "I still remember what happened the last time we played 'hostage negotiator.' I'm not falling for your tricks twice!"
"Falling for my tricks?! After all that you—"
Bill's finger twitched on the trigger. The laser hummed, its lights slowly brightening. "What did I just say! No. Talking."
Ford stiffened, but clenched his jaw shut. Soos said, "I, uh... I think he's agreeing to your terms."
"Good." The laser slowly dimmed. Stan's shoulders sagged. Bill pointed, "You two—in the portal room. Stanley and I will be riiight behind you."
While Bill spoke, Ford tugged open a small drawer hidden behind Soos from Bill's view; but finding it had been emptied, he grimaced, exchanged a helpless look with Soos, and nodded. Reluctantly, Soos said, "Okay."
As Bill marched his prisoners into the next room, he prattled giddily, "Oh, this is too perfect! First I can take out the geek who killed me, the idiot he killed me in, and their giant baby; and then all I have to do is wait for the littler twins to get here so I can deal with them, too!" His laughed shrilly. "Then maybe I'll make upholstery from your hides! Hey, Fordsy—do you know how ancient Romans tanned leather?"
Teeth grit, Ford muttered, "I can guess."
Dipper and Mabel were arriving that evening. If Bill stuck around that long, and found Abuelita... And if Melody came over for dinner... Soos shot a sideways glance at Ford. His face was red with rage, but he kept his gaze fixed forward. Soos prayed he was thinking of a plan.
There was nothing of the portal left but some mechanical rubble strewn across the cavern floor. Ford and Soos were feet from where the activation switch used to be before Bill called, "That's perfect—stay right there! You—go join them."
Stan's teeth were clenched and his fists balled, but he didn't turn to face Bill until he was standing at Ford's side. "You're nuts if you think you'll get away with this. It's three to one! Hit one of us and the others'll tear you apart before you can line up the next shot."
Bill cackled, voice high and echoing in the empty cavern. He twirled his novelty cane gleefully as he said, "Look who's never fought a time traveler before! You think you're facing one of me?" He carefully positioned himself directly in front of the trio, glancing down at the floor as if looking for the right mark to step on, and said, "You're already outnumbered. In a second I'll have a firing squad a hundred strong. You'll be shredded into flesh spaghetti! And me—" His gaze moved from Stan's eyes to Ford's. He raised his gun. "I'm gonna really enjoy killing you a hundred times in a row."
He tightened his grip on the trigger.
The trio braced themselves.
The laser hummed louder.
Bill hesitated.
He glanced from side to side. "Where are the other ninety-nine of me?"
And that was when fifty teenage twins crashed against his back like a tidal wave.