Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ford woke with a jolt. Blurry walls signaled him to adjust his glasses, but he realized they were missing. With a grumble, he felt along the familiar electron carpet and found the spectacles a few feet away. “Eureka”, he yawned. After affixing his glasses the man braced himself on the ground and pushed onto his feet. “I made it back to the room, but I missed the couch.” He felt a sting in the lower part of his back and rubbed it. “Still, not the worst sleep I’ve gotten in this room by far! Wait, what’s that aroma?” Ford sniffed at the air, picking up on the buttery notes of something sweet. Coaxed from his room he exited into the hallway and followed his nose to the kitchen.

“Mornin’ Sixer!” Came a boisterous greeting. Stan turned from the stovetop, skillet in hand. “I made Stancakes! I guarantee there is not enough hair in 'em for you to taste.”

Ford rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Stanley? It’s not even 7 A.M. yet. How long have you - good grief!” Ford watched his brother add another pancake onto a stack of twenty four. “I hope you’re not expecting us to eat all of those!”

Stan huffed, “With your queasy stomach? Course not! Whatever’s left over Soos can freeze for him and Melody.” He flicked off the oven before moving towards the fridge. “Butter?”

Ford sat down at the table and raised a hand. “No thank you, just syrup.”

Stan grabbed two bottles from inside the fridge. “Lets see uh…Sir Syrup, or Mountie Man?” Ford deliberated for fifteen seconds before settling on the former. Stan grabbed a cup of coffee off the kitchen counter, placing it and the syrup in front of his brother. Ford scooped the cup of joe up and took two heaving gulps. “Ahh. Say, what’s gotten you all domestic?”

“It’s ship off day Poindexter! Adventure of a lifetime ain’t gettin’ off the ground if we ain’t fed.” Stan punctuated his words by transferring four pancakes onto a plate for himself. Ford cautiously forked one pancake but Stan pushed a second onto his plate. The older twin rolled his eyes but didn’t resist, cutting his breakfast into weird geometries. After taking a bite Ford perked up.

“These are quite good!”

Stan shot back, “Oh what, you thought they’d suck?”

Ford clarified, “No, no! I just remember you goofing off during our Home Economics courses.”

“Well thank God I learned a thing or two in the forty years since. I’ll have you know I can also scramble eggs now.” The brothers shared a laugh. Slowly, a forlorn look fell over Ford’s face. “Wassamatter? Coffee’s cold?”

“No, it’s warm. I find myself on the precipice of the new and can’t help but recollect on the old, even if the old bears no familiarity.”

“English, bud.”

“I spent many years in this shack but it’s never felt this much like a home. Even after Fiddleford joined me it was our laboratory first and foremost. The remnants of my time are still here, scattered, but while I’ve been gone you’ve done a lot to make this place yours. Filled it with memories and sentiment. You did a great job keeping the place together Stanley.”

Stan took a bite of his food and replied, “Easy on the sap bro, keep it to the pancakes.” Ford’s eyes fell down to his plate, causing Stan’s expression to soften. “Look, uh, I appreciate it. It was tough with all the science gobbledegook everywhere, but it made for a killer attraction. Sure, I spun gold, but what good woulda been Mr. Mystery with no shack? Besides, you can thank Soos for patching up the roof and keepin’ the floors intact. With him in charge, we can always come back after fillin’ the Stan O’ War with new memories.”

Ford smiled, “Indeed. Speaking of, how are things coming along with Soos’ promotion?”

“Well, he went and got my suit steam pressed after wearing the same wrinkled shirt for the past ten years, so I think he’s pretty jazzed. Even had me throw the pigskin with him yesterday after he closed up.”

“How paternal.”, Ford commented.

“Woah, easy, it was all business! Passing the torch type stuff; give ‘em the keys, grab drinks, toss a ball. Normal stuff!” Ford noted the slight red tinge to Stan’s ears and nodded silently. “What about you huh? How’d your chat go with the world's smartest square dancer?”

“Fiddleford? He’s doing splendid! Moved into the Northwest Manor and renamed it ‘McGucket's Hootenanny Hutt’. He has pending patents for an array of gadgets with more ideas in the pipeline. I tell you, it’s like his mind has been accumulating ideas for the past three decades and suddenly been uncorked, there's no end! And his boy, Tate, is planning to pick up their old holiday traditions again. To say I’m delighted is an understatement.”

“Hah, glad to know we ain’t the only two reuniting in the wake of Weird-ma-what's-it.”

“Weirdmaggedon.”, Ford corrected.

“Weirda-dingdong, like I said.” Ford scowled. The sound of a vacuum cleaner starting up disrupted the twins' banter. “Ah jeez, Abuelita’s started cleaning. Better go grab our things and pack the rental.”

Ford downed the last of his coffee. “Affirmative! Let us convene outside in twenty minutes.”

_____________________________________

Ford walked out the Mystery Shack and scrunched his face at what he saw, Stan kissing the roof of his car and muttering beneath his breath. After adjusting his glasses he questioned, “Am I interrupting?”

Stan locked eyes with his brother. “Um…yes.”, he responded before delivering one final smooch to his longtime ride or die. “This baby should’ve conked out on me years ago but goshdarnit we’ve been to hell and back.” Ford rolled his suitcase over to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. Stan sniffed back a tear and looked longingly into the driver's seat. “Alotta nights it was just me and the local radio. I called a ton of radio hosts, sometimes for business offers, often just for the company.” Ford gripped both his brothers shoulders and Stan reached back with one hand.

“No more lonely nights. For either of us.”, Ford supplied. Stan straightened his back and gave a quick nod. The brothers redirected their attention to the Stan O’ War II, an impressive trawler Ford had stowed away in a hidden grotto years ago.

“McGucket promised us internet and T.V. on this thing yeah? I’m not tryin’ to miss my shows or calls with the kids.”

“I did a once over on all the key systems last night. We’ll have to stop and get a few things in Alaska, but she’s more than seaworthy.” Both brothers loaded the last of their things into the rental car. Turning for the last time, for who knows how long, they took in the visage of 618 Gopher Road.

The early morning air was crisp as Ford asked his brother, “Ready to head into the unknown?”

Stan took a deep breath, “Let’s fuckin’ do it.”

Chapter Text

It took three hours, a bathroom break, and a stop so Ford could investigate a Bigfoot cutout, but they’d finally arrived at the coast. “Next time you see a cutout hows about waiting for me to pullover before you duck and roll off the freeway like a lunatic.”

Ford scribbled into a navy blue journal, “Initiative, Stanley. Gigantus Podiatrus can reach top speeds of forty miles per hour, rivaling a hungry grizzly. I’ve heard rumor that the promise of a backscratch can tempt them into revealing secrets.”

“Big whoop, scratch my back and I’ll tell ya a secret.”

“While hairy enough I think you lack the requisite height of a Bigfoot. Besides, what secrets would there be to coax from you?”

“The secret of why you took your seatbelt off.”

“I haven’t taken my seatbelt-”, Ford was interrupted by Stan dislodging his seatbelt. The scientist scrambled to snap the belt back into place, dropping his journal onto the car floor. “Stanley! Not while the car is moving!” Stan laughed, eliciting a punch to the shoulder from his brother.

“Worth it!” Stan exclaimed. Ford recovered his journal from the ground. “You still doin’ the diary thing?”

“Actually, it is my hope that we will write this chronicle together.”

“Say what?” Stan questioned.

Ford dusted off the book, “We’ll turn this into an heirloom for the kids by filling it with stories of our time at sea! It would only serve half its purpose if I filled its pages on my own. Besides, there will naturally be things you experience that I won’t. So, will you be my co-author Stanley?...Stanley?” Ford heard sniffling from his brother. “Are you cry-”

“Damn saltwater got in my eye and won’t come out!” Stan wiped a wet hand onto his pant leg. “Alright, if it's for the kids I’ll do it. But I ain’t writin’ in no fancy schmancy script. Took me years just to figure out what you were sayin’ half the time in your journals.”

“I can say the same thing about reading your cursive.” Ford chuckled, and after an eye roll Stan joined him.

_____________________________________

“Alright, you remember your name?”

“Well, it’s not my name but-”

“But nothin’. We’re pullin’ up to security so what’s your name?”

Ford sighed, “Stanton Pines.”

“Thatta boy.” Stan pulled up to the marina’s security booth and waited. An exhausted looking teenager stepped out the booth and extended his hand, waiting for identification. “Right! Here you go kid.” After the ID was placed in his hand the boy realized he was seeing double, both men in the car appeared identical. “Ah, haha. Noticed the resemblance. I’m Stanford and this is Stanton. I’m the guy totally paying taxes on the boat, he’s just my co-pilot.” Ford smiled awkwardly from the passenger seat. With a shrug the teenager scanned Stan’s ID and allowed the twins entry. “Thanks a million! Don’t work too hard ya hear?”

_____________________________________

Lazy waves rippled from the Stan O’ War II as Ford finished guiding it into the water. He reached down, decoupling it from the rental car while Stan heaved the last of their belongings from the trunk. Both brothers wiped their brows of sweat and Stan gave Ford a thumbs up. “Alright, I gotta go turn in this rental. How’s about you start transferrin’ stuff onto the boat while I’m gone?” Ford nodded in agreement and watched his brother drive off to the far side of the marina.

“Let’s see here, best practice would be to bring everything below deck to the cabin. We can unpack at our leisure once we set off.” Ford rolled his and Stan’s suitcases up the ramp onto the Stan O’ War II. The deck was a polished teak transitioning into pine for the interior rooms. Ford curved behind the cockpit and found two doors; one leading inside the cockpit and the other leading down into the cabin. Ford pushed the cabin door open and proceeded down the flight of stairs. Palming around in the dark he flicked a lightswitch and illuminated the interior; a kitchenette hugged the right wall. In the center of the room was a two seater reclining couch, opposite of which was a mounted flatscreen with a dresser underneath. Ford rolled the suitcases through the room and down the hallway. On his left he passed a bathroom and to his right a closet.

At the end of the short hallway was a door and behind it the twins’ bedroom. A bunk bed took up most of the room's left side while work desks for each brother were placed on the right with a wardrobe in between. Ford placed Stan’s suitcase on the bottom bunk and hoisted his own suitcase to the top where he’d be sleeping.

Absent-mindedly, he felt along the wooden ladder leading to the top bunk. Ford was whisked away by a memory recalling his childhood home and how Stan had won the top bunk in an arm wrestling match. The scrawnier twin had complained up and down about how ‘unfair’ it was, but walked back his annoyance when it seemed their father would intervene. This time around Stan had offered the top bunk without prompting and it left Ford wondering if he remembered their friction all those years back.

The dropping of luggage out in the living room snapped Ford to attention. He walked out the bedroom and found Stan popping open two beers with his bottle opener. “There you are! The returns place got a bit fussy over some grease in the trunk but I smoothed things over. I hauled the rest of the stuff inside so, wanna toast?”

Ford brought a hand to his chin, “I think…That sounds like a remarkable idea!” Stan passed the brewski to his brother. “To discovery!” Ford raised his bottle.

“To adventure!” Stan fired back.

After clinking their bottles they chanted in unison, “Pines! Pines! Pines!”

Chapter Text

“Heh, jokes on them if they think you wanna go to some stuffy college on the other side of the country. Once we get the Stan O’ War complete it’ll be beaches, babes, and international treasure hunting for us.”

“Look, Stan, I can’t pass up a chance like this. This school has cutting edge programs in multidimensional paradigm theory.”

“Beep, boop, I am a nerd robot. That's you, that's what you sound like.”

“Heh heh, ah well. If the college board isn’t impressed with my experiment tomorrow then, OK, I’ll do the treasure hunting thing.”

“And if they are?” Stan stared at his feet, waiting for an answer that never came. “Poindexter?” He said, turning to look at the empty swing. “Stanford?” His panic was interrupted by a sudden gust of wind. The clouds grew dark and heavy, rain pelting Stan as he hopped to his feet. He screamed for Ford again but it was drowned out by the storm. Then he saw it, a light from inside the Stan O’ War as it drifted from the shore. “Stanford, wait! Don’t leave me!” Stan ran into the ocean. He trudged through the water until it was up to his waist but he couldn’t hope to keep pace with the boat. A particularly strong gale forced the teenager to his knees and when Stan looked back up a large wave began to overshadow him. Stan braced for impact when -

_____________________________________

A wave rocked the Stan O’ War II and Stan woke up in a cold sweat. He reached for the gold chain around his neck while gasping for breath.

“Stanley? Is everything OK?” Ford asked. Stan turned to see his brother on the floor, legs splayed apart and reaching for his toes in a stretch.

Stan coughed to clear his throat, “Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. Just a bad dream.” He’d hoped to cut it off there, but Ford’s concerned expression didn’t leave. “I couldn’t find the remote so I was stuck watching golf tournaments. The only point of that game is to collude with other criminals, being an observer is mind numbing.”

Ford laughed, “I must admit I have no love for the sport either.” He brought his feet together in a butterfly stretch. “Will you be falling back asleep? My morning routine should only take a few more minutes.”

Stan scratched at the small of his back. “Meh, I’m up. Might as well get breakfast started. Sooner that's done the sooner you can share about these big plans in Alaska.” Ford nodded silently in agreement. Stan kicked his feet off the bed with a groan, cracking the lower vertebrae in his back.

“Certain you don’t want to join me for some morning calisthenics?” Ford asked while twisting his core.

“I like eatin’ pretzels, but I’m not tryna be one.” Stan replied as he slid on his fuzzy slippers. Ford launched into the importance of a supple lumbar region but Stan quickly shuffled out the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. Stan grabbed some bread and popped it into the toaster. Next he grabbed a skillet, turned the heat high, threw in some oil, and cracked four eggs. “Bacon bits…pepper…garlic powder…cheddar…some green stuff.” Stan talked himself through the recipe. He attempted to pour himself a cup of coffee but found none left in the pot by the keurig. With some annoyance he shouted back to Ford, “Make a new pot when you finish it! And stop drinkin’ so much before bed!” Although he got no response Stan knew his brother heard him. He grumbled his way through brewing a new pot. A few minutes later Stan plated the omelets and toast, opting to pour himself both a cup of coffee and orange juice. The smell of fresh coffee was enough to hasten Ford’s routine as he joined his brother at the table. “So, Alaska.” Stan prodded.

Ford quickly sipped some coffee. “Correct! Now, I’m sure you are aware that prepping for our voyage took an incredible amount of resources.”

“Pretty much all the money I had stuffed in the bed, yeah.”

“Thanks to Fiddlefords upcycling and Soos’ considerable overtime we managed to finish boat restoration within our means, but barely so. On top of this, while we have a location for these northern anomalies, the explanation still eludes me, we could be walking into grave danger.”

“Really selling it to me, Poindexter.”

“So I’ve devised a plan, two birds with one stone. We stop at a location called Cube Cove, Alaska - a shoreline infamous for sea vessels vanishing. Except vanishing is the wrong conclusion! You see the ships go missing but the crews don’t, left standing in the shallows of the nearest beach. In reality these ships are being towed underwater and stored in caves by the local Sirens. So with their help we can-”

“Woah, woah, slow it down. Sirens? Like, mermaids?”

“Similar morphology, yes but-”

Stan grinned, “Workin’ with mermaids huh? Alright, you got my attention.”

“Sirens, but, yes! I’m familiar with the Sirens of the Pacific. Their species cover the waters of every ocean and they have varied customs just like humans. Apparently just by associating with Pacific Sirens Atlantic ones will no longer provide you with aid. Point being the caves in Cube Cove have plenty of loot we can scrounge. Whatever valuables we collect can be pawned off in Juneau, the State Capital.”

“What kind of a haul are we talkin’ here?”

“Tackle, fishing line, harpoons, muskets, jewels…”

“Yeesh! And you got no hang ups over this?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean all this stuff belonged to folks at some point yeah? It just sounds a little…Loose morals of you.”

“I’m sorry, are you the arbiter of morality Andrew 8-Ball Alcatraz?”

“Easy most wanted dork in the galaxy. It’s no skin off my nose but we can’t both be the unethical twin.”

“Says who?” Stan had a laugh before Ford continued. “The Pacific Sirens only marooned folks with bad intentions; colonial sailors, whalers, and oil tycoons. I’ve got no quarry with repossessing the belongings of such individuals.”

“Well you’ve thought it out, so I wager that's enough soul searching. We’ve got like three more days of travel yeah?” Ford nodded with affirmation. “Great, then I’ll go polish my knuckles and catch a few fish. I’ll catch ya later.” Ford raised his mug to his brother and Stan walked up to the deck.

_____________________________________

It was overcast as the Stan O’ War II pulled up to the dock of Cube Cove and weighed anchor. Ford disembarked with a blue hooded jacket thrown over his red sweater for extra insulation. Stan brought up the rear in a brown coat, red and white striped tee, and a red beanie that Mabel stitched. “First steps outta Oregon in quite a while. After we hit up those caves you think they got a decent pub around here? Stanford?” Ford’s expression was confused as he scanned the area. “Earth to Ford, come in Ford. Wassamatter?”

“It’s…quiet.”

“Maybe they’re just late risers round these parts.”

“No, no, not like this. Ours is the only boat, the lighthouse is turned off despite the clouds, and none of the homes have any lights on.” Ford pointed at the weather worn wooden cabins a couple hundred feet from the shore. “Where is everyone?”

Chapter Text

Ford carefully stepped through the town square with his laser gun unholstered. Stan brought up the rear, brass knuckles equipped, with a more nonchalant stroll. Cube Cove was a small settlement, with seemingly all of its residents living in the sixteen log cabins visible from the dock. Or atleast, they once did, as many of the cabins were now boarded up or otherwise abandoned.

“Stay vigilant Stan, we don’t yet know what could have disappeared these people and it could be lurking nearby.” Ford looked over his shoulder to see Stan with his face against a cabin window. Quickly, he dashed to Stan’s side and saddled up against the wall of the building. In a whisper he asked, “See anything? Movement?”

“Cobwebs, dust bunnies, and a bunch of tiny furniture. Guessin’ this was a kids room or belonged to the world's most depressed leprechaun.”

Ford grimaced, “If this thing targets children then…We can only hope it’s of the kidnapping persuasion and not the alternative.” An ominous creak rang out, startling both twins into defensive postures. The perpetrator? A loose door swinging open in the breeze. Stan breathed a sigh of relief moments before Ford dashed toward the cabin in question. Stan mouthed a ‘Why the fuck?!’ and tailed behind his brother. The duo flanked the now open door, sneaking peeks into the mostly shadowed interior. What little they could make out appeared to be a row of shelves. Stan glanced around, noticing a sign that hung out front the cabin.

“Psst, Ford, sign says ‘General Store’ on it. Think their scratch offs are still any good?” Stan’s levity fell on deaf ears as Ford crossed the threshold into the General Store. Stan said to himself, "Yeesh, tough crowd”, and joined Ford inside. Ford motioned for Stan to search the back of the store while he took the front. The pair parted and Stan inched his way toward the refrigerator section. Enough grime had accumulated on the glass doors that Stan couldn’t see their contents, but the lack of any electrical buzz meant that whatever was in there had likely gone bad. He continued to move along the back wall, fists raised in a boxer’s guard. Making it to the far corner of the store Stan began to creep towards the front passing mostly empty shelves with a haphazard array of hygiene products. One package in particular caught his eye, a neon green box with faded lettering that spelt ‘Scottish Spa’. Picking it up he whispered to himself, “Jeez, haven’t seen this stuff since the 80’s…Wait…” The gears turned and Stan moved to the front with soapbox in hand. “Ford, I think these folks have been gone for a while.” Stan saw his brother standing silent with a newspaper in hand by the register. “Whatcha readin’?”

“The reason why no one is here. Look for yourself.” He said in a crestfallen tone. Stan picked up the paper and began reading the section Ford had pointed out.

_____________________________________

“Last Call for Cube Cove
By: Jan Ampersand

As we’re all aware today the last boat leaves from Cube Cove back to Juneau. Our collective research onto Thuja Plicata and its medicinal potential is being halted, as grants and donors have pulled out. As I write this final entry for our local paper I can hear the boat engine revving with impatience. Part of me doesn’t want to leave, a sentiment I’m certain many of you share, but without support from the mainland we’d not last long. It is an unfortunate likelihood that our research, deemed inconclusive, will be tucked away into the corner of some corporate store room never to see the light of day. But I still have hope. In writing this paper I hope to chronicle the hopes and wishes of all the scientists and patients who put their faith in this project. Maybe one day, in the distant future, the box in that corporate store room will be uncovered, its contents declassified, and our research allowed to continue. Or maybe some stranger with a ton of money and influence will stumble upon this little shop, and this little page, and decide to petition for our work to resume. Whatever way it shakes out I’ll never forget the honor it’s been to share this island with all of you for the past 10 years. A few of us started families here and are leaving with children they didn’t arrive with, like my little 3-year old Fran. If her curiosity persists later in life, perhaps she’ll take a stroll down memory lane and visit the place she was born. If you’re reading this sweetie and I”m not around anymore know that I love you.

Signing off for the last time this is Jan Ampersand of Cabin 8’s General Store.”

_____________________________________

Stan combed over the text and then turned back to his brother. “So…They left? That's the big mystery? A bit anticlimactic, but it means no one got hurt right?” Ford’s face shifted from discontent to anger.

“It’s bullshit!” Stan’s eyes widened at his brother's outburst. “No doubt the work of fickle, soulless executives meddling in matters they don’t understand. This research team set out to better understand the antifungal and antibacterial benefits of a compound found in the red cedar trees on this island. They’d been approved for fifteen years of funding by multiple different corporations who understood the value here, being on track to influence the field of antibiotics going into the new millennium. But ten years in and their work is deemed inconclusive? No doubt some PR spun balderdash when what likely happened is execs realized they could fund something cheaper somewhere else.” Ford clenched his fists. “Imagine the stress they felt knowing that all the work they’d done would be for naught, years of work down the drain! It’s cruel, it’s unscientific, it’s…it’s…what I felt when my own work hit a wall. When I had nowhere else to go and turned to Him for help.” Stan looked at his brother and then back at the page.

“So, why not finish their work?” He suggested softly.

“Pardon?” Ford said.

“Sure the buildings are a little grody but there's no water damage anywhere. I betcha there’s some files tucked away you could take a look at, see what you can do.”

Ford sighed, “While hopeful, I think you’re being a bit too presumptuous Stanley.”

“Am I?” Stan said, drawing his brother's attention to the newspaper article. “Dunno how you missed it but a bunch of letters in this are underlined. And they spell out g-o-t-o-c-a…

“...b-i-n-1-3. Go to cabin 13! I mistook the marks to be dirt or droppings but you’re right, they’re clearly scratched into the page. It’s a message!” Ford said with excitement.

“Bingo.” Stan replied. “Years of deciphering your codes has me sensitive to this stuff. How’s about we swing by Cabin 13 and see what’s up? Couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Indeed! And good eye Stanley.” With the tension leaving his body Ford holstered his gun and ran out the front door. “Look, there’s an 8 engraved onto this cabin's door, which means 13 should be up the road, c’mon!” Stan rolled up the newspaper and tucked it into the pocket of his coat lining.

_____________________________________

In Cabin 13, inside a locked desk, the brother’s found a slew of files squirreled away in secret. Ford poured over the documents while Stan held a flashlight. “So, what's the scoop?” Stan asked his brother.

Ford rubbed his chin, “It’s as I feared. The project was given a new deadline to have a sample of topical cream made by the end of the tenth year. When they failed to meet it, donors pulled out and the research teams were told to evacuate the island by the end of the month. Considering how their timetable was moved up they tried their best, but sample trials always resulted in rashes.”

“Is there enough for you to take a crack at it?”

“I could but pharmaceuticals have always been a weak spot for me. I’d need at least a week or two just to collect the appropriate tree specimens but-”

“But what? We got all the time in the world. Besides, way you were spinning it, these mermaids got plenty of loot down underwater. Way I see it, you can have a little science project on the side in between treasure hunting.” Ford smiled at his brother.

“Thank you, Stanley. If I can crack whatever fault they had in the recipe I can at least bring their research to a satisfying conclusion.”

“So gather up your homework and let's haul it back to the Stan O’ War. Then we can go find these mermaids.”

“Sirens! But yes, gladly.” With the folders held tightly to his chest Ford followed his brother out the cabin.

Chapter Text

After a detour to drop off his new files Ford guided Stan far enough down the beach that the Stan O’ War was a blip on the horizon. Donning their galoshes the twins waded through the shallows at a brisk pace, the cold water keeping them alert. Stan was seconds from asking Ford ‘Are we there yet?’ for the fourth time when his brother exclaimed, “Here we are!” Stan turned left and right, noticing nothing remarkable about the strip of beach they’d stopped on.

“Right…So, what am I missing?”

Ford adjusted his glasses, “Nothing to an untrained eye such as yours, or, more accurately, an untrained nose.” With a deep inhale Ford confirmed his suspicions. “Smell that? Amidst the brine there’s something unusual, the citrusy smell of bergamot. That smell is a Siren’s pheromones, used to lure in other fish while on the hunt. It means we’re close.” Ford dug around the inside of his jacket and produced a small, silver whistle. “And this will show our intention to entreat the finned fellow.” Ford brought the whistle to his lips and blew into it, producing no sound.

“Is my hearing aid broke or did that do bupkis?”

“It’s a dog whistle, Stanley. While silent to us it will be picked up by a Siren’s keen hearing. In fact, it sounds remarkably similar to a common greeting so if any are nearby they will be inclined to seek out the source.” Ford drew in breath before blowing into the whistle again. Doubt began to creep into Stan’s mind as his brother blew into the whistle for a third time.

“Look Ford, not for nothin’ but this seems like the sort’ve song and dance you’d read about on a cheap diner playmat. Are you sure this is going to-” Stan silenced himself as something gripped around his ankle. Looking down in the murky water Stan realized there was a long shadow directly next to him. The color drained from his face. “F-Ford.” Ford blew into the whistle once more before turning back to his brother.

“What is it Stan-” Ford went quiet after spotting the shadow as well. A clawed hand reached for Stan’s leg but he fell back toward the shoreline, freeing himself from its grip.Whatever had grabbed him crested the surface, rising to a height of six feet as a curtain of water parted to reveal its form. It was covered in dark green scales with fins jutting from the side of its circular human head. A surprisingly hulking physique seemed spliced atop a piscine tail flicking in the shallows. It’s huge, glass eyes turned from Stan to Ford and a mouth lined with razors parted as it spoke.

“Humans, why do you call me?” It’s voice was scratchy as if rusted from disuse.

Ford stepped between Stan and the creature. “I am Stanford Pines, we seek your aid in accessing the Siren Caves located nearby.”

The Siren turned up its nose and responded, “And why would I help you do such a thing?”

“Because, I’m friends with M3, also known as Marino the Third, third of his name after his father and grandfather.”

The Siren’s shoulders drooped. “You know Marnie?”

“Quite well.”

“Wait, are you his-”

“Yes. Yes, I was.” Stan by this point had pulled himself to his feet and began wringing out his coat. The Siren let out a full bellied chuckle, reverberating like thunder across the empty beach.

“Well golly I never thought we’d meet. I’m Marnie’s cousin, Geronimo!” The Siren extended a claw and Ford gripped it in a firm handshake. “Tell me, Stanford-”

“Just Ford is fine.” Ford interrupted.

“Ford then. Tell me Ford, why haven’t you dealt with that doppelganger behind you yet?”

Stan squeezed a chunk of water from his coat and whispered, “He talkin’ about me?”

Ford replied, “Ah, Geronimo-”

“Gerry is fine.”

“Gerry, splendid. Gerry, this is my twin brother Stanley, not a doppelganger.”

“Yeah, I’m the guy whose leg you were tryin’ to feel up.”

“I’m sorry about that. It takes awhile for my vision to adjust on the surface so I was just trying to get my bearings. So, the caverns, looking for anything in particular?”

“Just hoping to scavenge a few supplies, we intend to journey north to the arctic.”

The Siren shivered, “You humans sure love going to inhospitable places. But it’s your lucky day. My kind have left these parts, satisfied with scaring off any locals with bad intentions. I’m only here because my parents have a vacation home. I mean, who could pass up on no rent in this economy am I right? I bet he gets it.” Gerry said whilst motioning to Stan, whose response was to nod in agreement. “But alright, I’ve got some free time, do you want to head over now?”

“That would be most appreciated.” The Siren outstretched its arms and Ford stepped closer allowing the two to lean in and lock lips. The kiss lasted five seconds and emanated a pale blue glow. Ford pulled away, stepping aside so that the Siren could approach Stan.

“Uh. Um. What just happened?” Stan said, flustered.

“Hm? Oh, it’s how we get the Ocean’s Blessing to travel down into the caves. The pressure is too great for modern swimwear and we’ll be able to hold our breath underwater.”

“With a kiss?!”

“Don’t be prudish Stanley, there is nothing romantic about this gesture.” Stan looked at Gerry’s tender expression as he approached and found himself disagreeing with his brother’s assessment. With a sigh, he took off his hat.

“I’m too sober for this...Alright, I’m ready, but no tongue!” He asserted before puckering up.

_____________________________________

Stan floated on the water's surface. Despite knowing how cold the water should feel it was practically the same temperature as him. Cautiously, and against his brain's instincts, he plunged beneath the surface. Stan saw Ford and the Siren waiting below, each bobbing gently in place.With an encouraging nod from his brother Stan opened his mouth and breathed. His eyes widened. “It’s like breathing air!” He spoke underwater. There was a slight muffle to the words but they were perfectly audible.

“Told you to trust me.” Ford said confidently.

“Alright, now that you’ve both got your sea legs, let’s descend. Follow me.” Gerry took off without another word, heading further out to sea. Ford turned and took his brother's hand.

“It’s a bit rocky at first, but you’ll get used to it. Hang on!” Ford kicked off, sailing through the water with no resistance. Stan clung on tight, reflexively kicking his legs. “Don’t force it! Just direct yourself, and give strong, single kicks.” Stan watched Ford’s legs pump in a rhythm. Slowly, the duo's pace synced up. “That’s how it's done!” Stan couldn’t help but smile, amazed at how easily they moved through the water. Before he knew it Ford had let go and the two were zipping fast as any fish in the sea. The Siren guided them about two miles from the shore before disappearing down a ravine. Stan and Ford followed, having an easier time maneuvering the tight passage.

“Alright, we’re almost there.” Gerry said back to the twins.

“Huh? But we ain’t down that deep at all. Shouldn’t it take longer for us to get the bends?” Stan questioned.

“We’re dealing with the supernatural Stanley! Siren’s secrete a fluid that alters the pressure of surrounding water - they smear it along the walls of shelter to deter predators. It's why the Ocean’s Blessing is required for entry into the caverns.” The trio dove a couple hundred feet before Gerry pointed into a cave mouth. The surrounding rock had been carved with pictographs and symbols neither twin could decipher.

“You’ll find all that we’ve reclaimed within. I have little need for most of what's inside so feel free to take whatever you can carry. We’ll part ways here, but I’ll be around. Just blow that whistle on the surface and I’ll lend a hand.”

“Dontcha mean lend a fin?” Stan suggested.

“Haha! No!” Gerry replied before his tail bucked and sent him rocketing toward the top of the ravine.

“Siren’s don’t have a great sense of humor, Stan. It was a good one.” Ford said with a consoling tone.

“Ouch, I’m getting nerd pity? Maybe my jokes really are hook, line, and stinker.” Ford punched his brother in the shoulder and they both laughed before entering the cave. After a few minutes the pair surfaced inside the cave and found the air just as easy to breathe as the water. “Gotta hand it to those mermaids, their magic is pretty nift…holy shit.” Stan swore as he took in the interior. It was a ship graveyard with dozens of different makes and models from across the centuries. His mind swam with visions of gold doubloons and piles of treasure. “Oh this…This is beautiful.”

Chapter Text

As Stan and Ford stepped out the water liquid slid off their bodies with supernatural ease. “Instant dry cleaning? What can’t that Blessing do?!” Stan said, amazed.

“Well, it won’t last forever, for starters.” Ford replied whilst rummaging around the inside of his jacket. He produced a navy journal and pen, opening to a new page. “We have ourselves about four hours before the Ocean’s Blessing wears off. At the very least we will need to make it out of the cave by then or we’ll be trapped inside until Gerry comes looking. For today I suggest we scout the area; I’ll make a map with landmarks, places of interest, danger zones and-” Ford heard his brother's footsteps take off toward one of the many dilapidated vessels. “Don’t touch anything suspicious!” He yelled out.

“Got it, mom.” Stan shouted back. Ford’s ears turned red as he began to walk and sketch. Stan’s eyes had settled on a caravel with tattered triangular sails that had been split down the middle, leaving its interior floors exposed. He bouldered over a couple splintered beams and rocks, landing amidst the ship's bottommost deck. Despite being in a moist underground cave the ship was surprisingly dry on the inside as Stan walked around. Hammocks, barrels, and rope were left in disarray but salvageable. Stan hoisted one of the barrels up and his ears perked at the sound of something sloshing around inside. After checking the barrel for leaks he pulled out his swiss army knife to aid in loosening the bung. When the cork popped free a sweet, fruity aroma wafted into the air and Stan could feel his nose clear. “Poindexter! They got barrels of wine down here! Barrels say…1629, almost as old as you!”

“We share the same birthday doofus!” Ford shouted back.

“Yeah, yeah.” Stan chuckled to himself, reaching a pinky in to sample the vintage. After smacking his lips the older man went wide eyed. “Woah ho ho, that’s some strong stuff. It tastes just like juice but that aftertaste creeps up on ya! Hey Ford, make sure to mark this place down! There's at least seven barrels of the stuff in here still sealed up.”

“Copy that!” Ford responded, scribbling a wine bottle next to his sketch of the bisected ship. Stan proceeded to search about a dozen ships in the graveyard, shouting back to Ford whenever he found something of note; fine china in an intact display case, a bucket of harpoons with engraved albatross’, a bundle of high quality fishnets, and even a cache of spy glasses. The exertion made Stan take off his hat and fan himself. Ford notated the location of the spy glasses and then pointed down a tunnel. “We made it to the other side of the cave Stanley, let's continue mapping things out.” Stan hopped down to join his brother with a look of impatience. “Is something the matter? I can check the next couple ships we come across if it's too much.”

“Nah, stretchin’ the legs is good. It’s just…Over a dozen ships and there's no gold! Not even a single coin! Sure there’s plenty of stuff we can pawn off, but I was hoping for some genuine treasure here.” Ford adjusted his glasses.

“Chin up Stan, I’m certain a piece of gold or silver will spring up down the line. These ships were closest to the entrance so the Sirens likely picked them clean of any precious metals or gems. But who knows what we’ll find if we go deeper. You OK to lead the way?” Ford motioned for his brother to trailblaze. Stan affixed his beanie with a look of determination.

“You’re right, let's keep lookin’!” The twins journeyed deeper, stumbling across branching pathways. While most contained nothing but dead ends, occasionally the duo would find another ship or two. After surveying a few, a pattern began to emerge. “I’m finding a lot more things like clothes, portraits, and books.”

“Personal affects…Unlikely to serve us any purpose, but they could be reclaimed by a historical society.

“Still no gold though. Say, what would the Sirens do with gold and stuff anyhow?”

“Well, Sirens love to adorn themselves in metals that will rust because they place value on the length of time they’ve owned something. As sea creatures it's their go to indicator for such a metric. Gerry likely has a few pieces back in his dwelling but without any neighbors he’s got no one to impress by wearing them.”

“There’s only a couple more paths to go. Think we’ll luck out?”

“While the probability has decreased I wager it’s still high, so onward!” The twins continued their exploration down to the last series of tunnels and caves. Ford’s map had sprawled across two pages but the scientist was confident they’d finish scouting before he ran out of space. In one of these far back caverns Stan approached a lone dinghy seemingly full of seaweed. Pulling away the seaweed in congealed clumps revealed a chest made of wood and leather. Stan froze before jumping and clicking his heels.

“It’s a treasure chest! A bonafide treasure chest!” Stan quickly retrieved his set of lockpicks and began working on the weathered seal. Ford rubbed his chin, curious as to what could be housed inside. With a pop of the latch Stan raised the chests lid with glee, only to be met by the rotten smell of death itself. Bones filled the bottom of the chest, distinctly human if the skull were any indication. Stan gripped Ford with horror who himself was more surprised than scared. “Aw come on, why the hell are there bones in here?!”

“That’s…Strange. Sirens don’t take humans hostage but…these teeth are undeniably an adult male. Perhaps a party trick gone wrong? Too many drinks and he locked himself inside? There don’t appear to be any clothes among the remains.”

“Ugh, it reeks.”

“I’ll mark this down as a biohazard. Close the lid Stanley and we’ll journey to the next room.” Ford walked off toward the room's exit as Stan gripped the top of the chest. As he closed it a glint caught his eye from amidst the bones.

“Hmm?”

_____________________________________

Ford clicked his pen with a sense of accomplishment. “And that's a wrap. We’ve charted the interior of the caves with an hour to spare. Let’s make our way back to the entrance and surface for the night. I can’t wait to crack open those files back at the boat.” The twins began to retrace their steps using Ford’s map. After a handful of turns however Ford stopped in place with a dire expression.

“Wassamatter?” Stan prodded his stock still sibling.

“The caves, they’ve changed.”

“They what now?”

“It’s only been five minutes, but these turns don’t add up. Look, we should be in this room after taking two lefts and a right. There should be three exits, with the leftmost tunnel being our way back to the entrance. But…”

“There’s five tunnels, not three.” Stan replied. A cold breeze exited the five tunnels, washing over the twins and causing the hair to stand on their necks. It was as if the caverns had exhaled. Ford reached for his gun and Stan his knuckles.

“Somethings coming.” Ford warned.

Chapter Text

The temperature in the room plummeted. Slowly, mist trickled out of the five cave mouths and rose up the twins' calves. Ford and Stan stood side by side, their eyes flitting about with anticipation. At last, from each cave a trail of spectral blue energy entered the cavern and began to coalesce. Bone, blood, sinew, and skin knitted into the shape of a gangly man. Unnerving patches of its form failed to stitch shut, leaving bones exposed and organs threatening to spill forth. A tattered raincoat manifested over the specter before its stark white eyes opened. The entity turned its head from Ford to Stan and roared, its voice a mix of crashing waves and screeching metal. Stan brought his hands to his ears, wrenching as the sound looped inside his hearing aid. Ford stepped before his brother with his crosshairs on the spirit. It dove, flying toward the pair and continuing to scream as its mouth widened to inhuman proportions. Ford winced with one eye but steadied his aim and fired. The specter spun away from the laser, stopping in its tracks. Ford stared daggers at the entity but noticed it was looking elsewhere. Following its line of sight Ford turned to his brother who was adjusting his hearing aid. While Ford was distracted the specter dove once more. The scientist readied his shot and missed as the phantom disappeared into the now waist high mist. “This is dangerous. If the mist keeps rising I won’t be able to get a clean shot. Keep your eyes peeled St-”

“I can hear again!” Stan shouted, causing Ford to jolt. “Oh, uh, sorry. Feedback issue.” Stan attempted to step forward but a swollen hand clasped around his shoulder. “What th-AHH!” Ford spun in place and raised his gun. The Specter had slunk behind the brothers and lifted Stan a couple feet off the ground. Stan futilely lashed out, his knuckles finding no purchase as the entity’s free hand rooted around within his coat. “Get offa me you Moby Dick reject!” A buzz, followed by a shriek and Stan was dropped to the ground. Ford’s shot had blasted a hole clean through the entity’s head, with ectoplasm moving to fill the gap. The surrounding cavern warped, causing the five exits to congeal back into three. Ford lifted Stan to his feet.

“Run!” The duo bolted for the leftmost cave, leaving the disoriented specter in their wake. Stan adjusted the grip on his knuckles.

“What kinda bullshit is that!? It can grab me but I can’t lay a finger on it?”

“I’m afraid to say that’s fairly normal for ghosts, Stanley.”

“You tellin’ me ghosts have been real all this time too? We already have zombies and accountants, ain’t that enough undead for the world?”

“I suppose you weren’t there for the Northwest Mansion incident. Let us duck in here for the moment.” Ford directed Stan into an abandoned narrowboat’s cabin, closing the doors for some reprieve. Stan leaned on the wall to catch his breath.

“How’d you know which way to run? Weren’t the caves all messed up?”

“Damaging the spirit with my laser gun seemed to disrupt its illusion. What I have yet to figure out is exactly what it wants from us.”

“Seemed pretty clear it wanted a feel of my righteous bod…Is this adventure gonna be full of that? We’re already two for two with the mermaid.”

“It did seem to have eyes for you alone.” Ford questioned.

“Am I hearing a bit of jealousy Poindexter?” Stan prodded. Ford didn’t take the bait, looking sternly at his twin.

“It’s been three hours with no paranormal activity. If the ghost had been stalking us since we entered the caves we should have picked up on its presence sooner. When face to face it focused all its attention on you despite the fact that I was wielding the gun that could harm it. Furthermore, with you in its clutches it failed to kill or possess you.”

“Yeesh, don’t sound so disappointed.” Stan remarked.

“Stan, I need you to be honest with me, did you touch anything suspicious?” Stan crossed his arms, looking down at his feet. “Stanley.” Ford repeated himself.

“Ugh, fine!” Stan reached into his coat and produced a stellar looking gold necklace with a charm the shape of an anchor. Ford inhaled through his nostrils.

“Where did you find this?”

“...he che..” Stan mumbled.

“Pardon me?”

“In the chest!”

“The chest with a corpse in it?!”

“Yeah it sounds stupid now that I know ghosts are real!”

“I told you not to touch anything suspicious!”

“It was the only piece of gold we’d found all day! Besides, the guy was long dead he didn’t have a use for it.” Stan argued.

“That’s not…Why do you think it's in such good condition!” Ford rebutted. “That body was nothing but bones! If such a person were buried with that necklace what made you think it would be in such good condition after decades!”

“Ocean’s Blessing or whatever! Look, whatever, I’ll go put it back and that should solve this right?”

“Oh no, we’re not risking our lives to return that trinket when destroying it is much more efficient. Hand it over.”

“What? No!” Stan clutched the necklace defensively.

“Stanley give me the necklace.”

“No! It’s our first real piece of treasure!”

“It’s haunted by a malevolent spirit, it’s no good to us!”

“Then we’ll get a priest or something!”

“Exorcizing the necklace would surely destroy it, it’s likely held together by the bastard’s lingering will.”

“Then I…I’ll…”

“Stanley we don’t have time for-”

“It’s our first treasure!” Stan blurted out, his voice teeming with emotion. Ford quieted himself. “It’s our first treasure on our new adventure and I couldn’t pass it up…And I still don’t want to.” Ford looked at his brother and became sobered by recollection. It had been decades since they were grounded by their father for stealing a gold chain, but Ford had made the right call in standing by his brother then.

“Stanley…I’m sorry. Listen, your assessment is likely spot on. If we return the necklace to the chest then the haunting should disperse. I’ll take it.”

“No, I fucked up Ford, I’ll take it back. Someones gotta keep the ghost busy and shaky and scratchy can’t do much. Besides, you’re a better shot than me - always have been.” Stan pocketed the necklace and straightened his back. Ford smiled for a second before adjusting his glasses.

“Fine then, I’ll leave it up to you.” Ford reached into his jacket and produced the map he’d drawn up. “Take this, it will guide you back to the chest.” Stan took the rolled parchment and nodded confidently. “Now, let us prepare.”

_____________________________________

“Here it comes.” Ford announced. Mist rushed into the cavern, rising to each brother's midsection like a rolling tide. Ford shot into the cave on the off chance the specter had gone invisible. There was no response as the laser’s yellow light was swallowed by the darkness. Seconds passed in silence.

“Maybe you scared it off.” Stan proposed. The sound of rattling chains echoed out of the cave where Ford had shot. “Guess not.” The specter slowly emerged from the dark with the hole in its skull regenerated. Gripping both sides of the cave it squeezed its body through, having grown in scale since the last engagement. “That's concerning.”

“Stay focused Stan.” Ford commented. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Stan replied. The younger twin squatted so that Ford could get on his back. The ghost’s form flickered, likely processing what its prey was up to. Stan took a firm hold of Ford’s legs and then ran full speed toward the spirit. Surprised, the entity attempted to sink into the mist but was stopped by a shot from Ford’s gun. The spirit swung its swollen fists into the ceiling of the cave, tethering itself before swinging toward the twins. Stan steeled himself as Ford steadied his aim, firing twice in rapid succession. The first blast missed but the second landed as Ford predicted the specter’s movements. As it writhed Stan passed just underneath its spectral mass. Ford dismounted by where the spirit had entered, nodding to his brother who continued to sprint into the dark. As the entity turned and shrieked, Ford raised his gun.

“I’m not done with you.”

_____________________________________

Stan heaved as he ran. Following the map he’d returned to the cave with the marooned dinghy. “Bingo.” He muttered as he dashed for the small boat. After jumping into the boat Stan reached and hurled aside a large mass of seaweed to reveal the treasure chest. In rapid succession he popped it open, reached into his coat, coiled the necklace beneath the skull, and closed the chest. With the clasp shut a shriek emanated from within the chest, causing Stan to tumble and roll out of the dinghy. Panting, he wiped the sweat from his brow and felt the temperature rise. “Phew.” He sighed with relief. Stan pushed onto his feet and turned to leave the cavern when a ragged whisper entered his ears.

“You’ll be back.” Said no one. Stan threw a glance back at the chest, gripped his knuckles, and ran out the room.

Chapter Text

With the necklace returned Stan and Ford retreated to the water’s surface. Despite a lengthy conversation with Geronimo they were none the wiser about the corpse or the necklace. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. Tell you what, how about I dig around my parent’s place, see if I can find any records? My Ma loved to scrapbook, she was basically the resident historian.” While this did little to calm their nerves, the twins acquiesced.

It had been nearly three weeks since arriving in Cube Cove. Cautiously, the brothers returned to the Siren Caves and began extracting resources from the ships closest to the entrance. It was laborious but necessary work filling the Stan O’ War for their eventual pitstop in Juneau. Ford also dedicated his evenings to resolving the flaw in the Red Cedar trials. While his most recent formula resulted in both brothers breaking out in hives it was a noted improvement to prior tests. Bolstered by progress, and the relief brought about by some seashore chamomile, Ford pulled a handful of all nighters. More than once Stan would wake up, drape a blanket over his drooling brother, and place a cup of coffee beside him at his desk.

While Cube Cove could at times be eerie the brothers had quickly established a routine. Even with daily summons to confer the Ocean’s Blessing updates were slow from Geronimo, who often complained about his mother’s long winded asides in her writing. Stan sympathized with the Siren, much to Ford’s chagrin.

_____________________________________

The sun lowered on the horizon, casting all of Cube Cove in a warm orange glow. Ford drummed his fingers and chewed his eraser, brows furrowed in concentration. His eyes zipped back and forth, analyzing past trials and their failures. He was nearing a breakthrough, the thrum of discovery causing his left leg to bounce. “I’ve narrowed it down to one key element, the cream is stable but lacking efficacy. I have to think, what’s missing?” Approaching footsteps pulled Ford’s focus as Stan pushed open the door to his and Ford’s bedroom.

“Hey Poindexter! Check this out.” Stan said, lugging over a wooden crate. Ford peeked inside to see an abundance of records. “I went back to that boat we hid in from the ghost and found these by the cockpit. Most probably don’t work but the ones that do will probably be collectors.” Ford attempted to congratulate his brother but his growling stomach answered quicker. Flustered, Ford groaned as Stan set the crate down. “Yeesh, when's the last time you ate? And erasers don’t count.” He punctuated by plucking the pencil from Ford’s mouth.

“8 o’ clock!” Ford said indignantly. Stan scrutinized his brother with a squint. Ford sighed. “8 o’ clock…last night.” Stan smacked his brother upside the head. A couple of minutes later, Stan had started frying a piece of cod in a pan.

“Look, I still got three more hours of water magic so you’re gonna finish cooking this fish and eat it before returning to your homework. In the meantime I’ll do another run of the caves, not much left to loot anyhow.” Ford looked a bit guilty sitting at the kitchen table. “Wassamatter?”

“Thanks for giving me the time to look into this Stanley, just a bit more and I should have this topical worked out - I’m just sorry it’s cutting into our adventure.” Stan raspberried, lightening the mood.

“Easy Stanford, this is part of the adventure. You think I’d get on a boat with you and not expect a distraction here and there?” Stan rubbed the countertop fondly. “Only thing’ll cut this journey short is you not eating enough, so if you do that then you can take your time with everything else. Capiche?” Ford rose from the table and put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

“You got it. Well, hurry along, the clock's ticking.” Stan grabbed his beanie from the hat rack and ascended onto the boat's deck. After taking a deep breath of the ocean air he walked toward the front of the boat. As he prepared to jump off the bow a series of bubbles were the prelude to a sudden water spout.

“Sweet Moses!” He fumbled back as Gerry’s visage took shape. “Gerry! You tryna’ give me a heart attack?!”

“Oh no, I’d never do such a thing my friend.” Stan steadied himself and gripped his chest.

“Ugh. Why the visit?” Stan grumbled.

“I found a bit of information about our stowaway down below.” Gerry said proudly.

“For real? Well, spit it out!”

“A long time ago there was a man who supposedly killed one of my kind. He was a local fisherman and trusted ally, so his betrayal was particularly shocking. Even more disturbing, he refused to detail the whereabouts of his victims body.” Stan tugged at his collar with distaste. “Enraged, my people brought him to the caverns in the hopes that imprisonment would drive him to reveal this secret. Unfortunately, the records say that he simply vanished one day, leaving the mystery unsolved.”

“If this is the same guy, he never left but crawled inside…a chest? You think one of your kind took him out as revenge?”

“There’d have been no point, they needed him alive to find the Siren’s body.”

“Right, yeah. Well, thanks for the info. I feel even less bad about tryin’ to take the necklace but I’m no closer to getting his ghost gunk off of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ford made it pretty clear that an exorcism would destroy the thing, and I don’t think you can lay to rest a murderer.”

“Human methods are quite heavy handed.” Stan’s eyebrow raised.

“You got some Mermaid magic in mind?”

“Well, you already have it. The Ocean’s Blessing should work. It cleanses and shields the wielder of impurities. As it’s far less violent than a Human Exorcism, the necklace should not break.”

“So what, you gonna grow legs and trek down there with me?”

“I don’t have to! I have imparted the Blessing onto you, so you may impart it onto the necklace.”

“You lost me.” Stan said plainly.

“We Sirens are always affected by the Ocean’s Blessing but may impart it to others for a short time with a kiss. During that time you can spread the Blessing as well. Kiss the necklace, cleanse the evil.” Stan blinked a few times. “Although I’d suggest putting it on and then kissing it.”

“How come Ford didn’t think of that, it feels too…simple?”

“You and your brother are not men of faith, he probably views the Blessing in too scientific a lens to consider the application.”

“Huh.” Stan replied.

“Well, I’ve delivered your lore. I’m off to sleep for the evening.” Gerry said before flipping back into the water and disappearing. Stan gazed into the scarlet horizon as the words echoed in his mind.

“You’ll be back.”

He took the plunge and headed for the Siren Caves.

_____________________________________

Stan entered the cavern and unlocked the chest. He retrieved the necklace and brought it round his neck. Lifting the anchor to his lips Stan kissed the trinket, hoping to remove the restless spirit that dwelled within. A few moments passed with seemingly no response. As Stan attempted to lift off his knees he found them sinking into a pool of water. “What the?!” He panicked, sinking like lead as his head went under. The pool swirled out of existence as quickly as it appeared, and the chest slammed shut.

Chapter Text

Stan coughed up seawater as he awoke on the beach. He immediately realized the lack of glasses on his face and cursed. Through blurry vision he pawed around in the sand desperately. Fortunately, the spectacles had gotten lodged in the wet sand of the shoreline. Stan bobbed his glasses in the sea to remove any sand before bringing them to his face. “What the…” He muttered with disbelief. Large boats lined the shore, anchored in place as remnants of steam trickled from their smokestacks. Stan climbed to his feet and wrung out the bottom of his coat. “Where did all these ships come from?” He questioned, looking up and down the coast. In the distance he could barely make out the shape of Cube Cove’s dock but any details were lost to him. “How did I get…Shit!” Both of Stan’s hands shot to his neck, rifling through his gold chains. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” He pleaded. The panic subsided once he’d gripped the golden anchor and accompanying necklace in his hands. With a sigh of relief he raised it to the sky. “Shines like a beaut in the sun. But if I have this, how did I get out of those caves? Maybe Gerry fished me out?” Stan’s confusion was interrupted by the foghorn of a departing ship down the shore. He placed the necklace behind his shirt and adjusted his glasses.“No use in dawdling, lemme get back to the Stan O’ War.”

_____________________________________

“Where’s the Stan O’ War?!” Stan shouted from the dock. After trudging along the beach he’d arrived to find no sign of his boat or his brother. As Stan’s brain and heart raced a tap on the shoulder drew his attention. A man, well built, stood in a sailor uniform colored white with blue trim.

“Uh, Sir, are you in distress?”

“What?” Stan fumbled out, surprised to see another person on the island. A second sailor stood just a few feet away.

“Me and my friend heard you scream, are you in danger?”

“Who’s askin’?” Stan said, voice laced with suspicion.

With a salute the young man responded, “Petty Officer Beaufort, Sir, member of the United States Navy.” Stan blinked a few times, his gaze shifting to the other Sailor who reflexively saluted in kind.

“Right…” The word trailed for an awkward length of time. Beaufort cleared his throat.

“I’ll ask again Sir, are you in need of any assistance? While Cube Cove has been a pitstop for travelers it is now for exclusive use by Naval Outpost 29 under declaration of President Wilson. We ask that you leave the island imm-”

“Woah, woah, run that back. President Wilson? Like…Woodrow Wilson?”

“The one and only Sir…You are a U.S citizen, correct?” Beaufort said with a hint of suspicion. Stan adjusted his stance.

“Of course I am! Stanlan Pineburgh of New Jersey. Nice to meetcha.”

“Ah, New Jersey, explains the accent. I’m from Vermont.” Beaufort extended a hand to shake which Stan reciprocated. “But tell me, whyever were you yelling Sir?”

“Oh that! I left my boat here but it seems to have gone missing. Some rascals must have seized it.”

“Odd, how did you make it pass the blockade to dock here?” Stan clicked his tongue.

“Well you see I’m a military man myself. Served in the kitchen until retirement. They practically had to drag me away from the grill! I was sent out here to case the local eateries and see if the Outpost is up to snuff. Only the best for our boys at sea.” The further away Sailor poorly muffled a snark. “Is there a problem, Sailor?” Stan accused. The man adjusted his scarf.

“N-no Sir!” He saluted once more for good measure. “I am relieved to hear Command cares so deeply about our nutrition, Sir!”

“At ease.” Stan commanded, watching the tension leave the young Sailor. “Petty Officer, my missing boat can wait, hows about you bring me to the kitchen so I can begin my assessment?”

“Of course Sir, there is only one pub on the island so you’ll not need to travel far. Please, follow me.” Beaufort turned and pointed toward a lone cabin in what would be modern Cube Cove’s town square. It was larger than any of the research facilities Stan and Ford had explored, but it made sense if it fed and housed Sailor’s for the Navy. Stan straightened his back best he could and followed the two Sailors to the Pub.

_____________________________________

The interior was noisy, filled with singing, eating, and dancing Sailors. Stan thanked Beaufort and his companion before making his way to the bar. Sat down in a stool he took a few moments to think; ‘Wilson was President before me and Ford were even born. I’m in the same place but the Navy is here? Is this because of the necklace? What if I just take it off.’ Stan reached under his shirt but found the clasp missing from the necklace. He thumbed the length of the gold chain but found nothing beside the anchor ornament. ‘Where’d the clasp go? OK, yank it off then!’ He resolved himself before tugging with great resistance. Stan tugged again, and again, and again until a young woman’s voice caused him to look up.

“Everything OK Sir?” A young brunette said.

“Um. Yeah!” Stan withdrew his hand from under his shirt. “I’m here to sample some of your food, random inspection on orders of Command. I hope you’re ready to serve your best Miss…” The woman’s face lit with excitement.

“Ampersand! Marian Ampersand, oh this is a lovely treat! Just make your request Sir and I’ll whip it up in the back no questions asked.” Her energy was genuine and Stan’s panic subsided in favor of hunger.

“That’s the spirit! Why don’t you give me your favorite dish?”

With a salute she responded, “Aye aye Sir! Here, take a mug of beer while you wait.” She reached under the counter and placed a frothing mug in front of Stan, who couldn’t help but lick his chops. Marian disappeared into the kitchen and Stan took a deep gulp of his drink.

“Woo-wee! Yup, that’s pre-Prohibition alright!” Stan hollered before downing another swig. A flurry of groans and cheers from the other side of the Pub drew his attention. Curious, Stan rose from his seat and approached a crowd of Sailors. As he integrated into the group Stan took in the scene, two men sitting at a table with cards. He immediately identified the game as Rummy and sipped from his mug. Two turns passed and the Sailor on the right, head shaved clean, sunk into his chair as his opponent revealed a winning hand. The crowd was again a mix of cheer and anguish as the winner extended his hand and collected a wad of cash from the loser. The winner was dressed like a civilian, seated in dark green overalls with a red undershirt.

“Now, is there anyone else willing to take a knock at my streak? I say it’s just my thirty second win this week.” He chuckled. Stan rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the winner’s cheating. It was an old trick to conceal a card or two beneath the cuff but apparently these yahoo’s were being played hook line and sinker. It was then that he noticed it, around the winner’s neck, a gold necklace with an anchor. Stan slammed his mug on the table to everyone’s surprise.

“Deal me in.” He demanded. Stan had a seat at the table as a whisper rolled over the crowd of who exactly this old man was.

“And who are you?” The overall clad man said, indignantly. Stan’s eyes narrowed on the necklace, for at this distance there could be no doubt it was the same one that he wore now.

“I’m the man who's gonna break your streak.”

Chapter Text

“Three of a kind, four of a kind, I win.” Stan declared. Less than ten turns after starting and the game had come to a close. The crowd went wild as money changed hands and tankards clinked. Stan received more than a dozen congratulatory pats on the back for breaking his opponents streak. The aforementioned opponent’s head hung with defeat, prompting Stan to speak. “Chin up, thirty two wins and one loss ain’t bad odds.” With a boot on the table Stan’s opponent rose above the height of the crowd and shouted.

“That’s right folks! At the end of the day the wheel of fortune don’t stop turnin’! And the wheel can turn in your favor by hitchin’ a leg with me down the shore to share in my secret to winning. Let’s give a hand to this old fella who, by beatin’ me, has won himself a no charge pass for my after hours visitation. Any folks interested can join me and him for the low, low price of two dollars. Any takers?” Stan recognized the grift as a handful of Sailors approached and deposited their cash into the hands of this conman. After rifling through the bills the man turned his gaze onto Stan and grinned. “Luck seems to be in your favor, old man. Meet me and the others tonight behind the pub and we’ll get you that boon.”

“What’s your-” Stan was cut off by an announcement from the other side of the pub.

“Mr. Inspector! Mr. Inspector! Your meal is ready!” Stan turned his attention back toward his opponent only to find the man had vanished among the crowd of Sailors. Marian elbowed her way across the pub to place a plate of fried fish, mash, and carrots in front of Stan. The smell was divine and Stan’s hunger prevented him from looking anywhere else but down.

“This smells heavenly…” Marian patted her brow with a handkerchief. “Say, uh, Ms. Ampersand, I’ll need to conduct my review over the next couple of days. Think you can swing a room for me upstairs while I’m in town?” Marian nodded with affirmation.

“Of course Sir. I’ll leave you to your meal and do so right now.” Without another word the woman dashed across the pub and up to the second floor. Stan looked outside at the red tinge of the setting sun before starting his meal. “Fuck, this is good.”

_____________________________________

It was around nine when the kitchen closed for the night and Stan ventured out back. Five other Sailors were waiting in the shadow of the building as he approached. “Fellas.” He offered. Nods were exchanged all around. Soon thereafter the overall clad man had arrived, this time sporting a yellow raincoat.

“Gentlemen, follow me.” The trek took Stan and the group to a craggier part of the shore. In the midst of all these boulders a cave mouth was hidden behind a curtain of seaweed. After lighting up a nearby torch the conman led the group inside. It was dark, moist, and smelt of low tide but nothing a hardened group of Sailors couldn’t handle. Eventually, the cramped cave opened to a basin with a large pool of sparkling water. Extending his hand the conman explained, “I found this pool of water after wishing on a shooting star. Drink from it and you’ll be as lucky as me. Your lives of back breaking labor will be through and fortune will forever smile upon you.” Stan saw the greed in the Sailors eyes as they approached the pool of water. He hung back, keeping an eye on the conman who’d strung them along. As the first Sailor knelt and sipped the surface ungulated. An explosion of water filled the basin with rain as it fell back to the ground. Within the water a large, hulking, serpentine silhouette came into focus. Stan immediately recognized the creature as a Siren before a terrifying roar echoed from its sharp maw.

“Trespassers! For drinking my water I curse you! Speak of this place and may the wind steal your voice. Tread upon this land and may the earth swallow you whole. Disrespect the ocean and may it strand you at sea. Run, run now and never return!” With a slap of its tail the Sailors were splashed, soaked, and sent scrambling out of the basin. Not a moment after the last passed into the cave did the conman and Siren begin to laugh in unison. “We got them good huh?”

“Yes, yes we did. We’ll not be seeing those saps on this island ever again.”

“Oh this is so much better than marooning boats one at a…” The creature fell silent.

“What? What do you - Oh.” The pair had turned their eyes on Stan who’d failed to turn tail. The Siren whispered into the conman’s ear, clearly panicked.

“He hasn’t left…is he OK? Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, nothin’ you did, I’ve just seen Sirens before.” Stan announced. The conman spat.

“Bollocks!”

“Quite the scam though; con the locals at cards, blame it on some boon, drag ‘em down to a scary secluded place after shakin’ ‘em down for cash and then BAM, monster attack!”

“He’s right, he knows the entire plan, who is he?!” The Siren said with increasing terror.

“I don’t know! He beat me at cards earlier and, wait, if you knew I was cheating is that how-”

“Bingo bud, I cheated a cheater. Not that hard when you’ve been milkin’ saps for weeks.” A silence hung between the three.

“So, what now? Going to expose me as a fraud, shake me down for my earnings?” Stan could sense the vitriol in the conmans tone.

“Now why would I ruin a good thing?”

“I'm confused.” The Siren questioned.

“Look, this boon, it’s the Ocean’s Blessing yeah?” The quick look between the pair was all the confirmation Stan needed. “Right, look, that Blessing lets you breathe underwater and swim fast but it doesn’t make you lucky. Trust that I know what I’m talkin’ about now?”

“And what if we do?” The conman replied.

“Lemme in on your scheme. If I show back up at the pub and beat folks alongside you it’ll give more validity to your con. Twice as many suckers means twice as much cash means twice as many yahoo’s sent running off the island. A win, win for us all. I’ll just ask for thirty percent of the proceeds to cover my lodging. Stan could see the glint in his fellow conmans eye as he considered the ploy.

“Twenty five.” The conman countered. The Siren gripped his arm and whispered something that Stan couldn’t make out. It didn’t seem to phase the man much. “Twenty five percent, take it or get dragged to the bottom of the sea.”

“Deal.” Stan said, stepping forward to offer his hand. “Stanlan, nice to be in business with ya. Your name?” The man stepped forward and reciprocated the handshake.

“Lewis. Much obliged, partner.”

_____________________________________

A week had passed. In that time Stan and Lewis had duped dozens of individuals. Every night a fresh gaggle of Sailors would wander down the shore and be sent running back to their ships. The results were lucrative and Lewis had warmed to Stan greatly with both of them sharing nightly meals in the pub. On the surface things appeared great, but below them Stan was wary. It was obvious to the old man that these two were the figures from Gerry’s story; the Siren whose body was never found, and the human who betrayed the Sirens trust. While he’d successfully ingratiated himself to his fellow conman Stan knew something was up. With his days trapped at the pub scamming new Sailors and sampling Marian’s work Stan would attempt to locate the basin during sunset to no avail. Despite retracing his steps he could never find the entrance. This meant his only chance to return would be with Lewis at night. Stan had hoped to warn the Siren of Lewis’ inevitable betrayal, and see if she knew a way back home, but he’d decided to try a different approach. One evening, before their scheduled dinner, Stan snuck into Lewis’ bedroom on the pub's second floor.

“Geez, these locks blow.” He remarked, gently closing the door behind him. The room was cluttered, full of bags, strewn about clothes, and tankards Lewis had ‘forgotten’ to return to the kitchen. “How am I supposed to find anything in this mess…” Stan thought to himself for a moment before walking over and lifting the twin mattress. “Nothing under, but…” His words trailed off as he felt along the seam of the bed. “Jackpot.” He said, withdrawing some loose papers from a cut in the mattress. The doorknob turned and Stan immediately shoved the papers into his coat pocket. Lewis entered and for a moment the tension was palpable until he’d realized the stranger was in fact Stan.

“What’s the matter pops, don’t think we spend enough time together already?” He joked. Stan gave a chuckle in response but offered no explanation. “Did you get our doors mixed up?” Lewis probed.

“Well Lou, I’m gonna be straight with ya…” Stan words carried a sense of dread. “Marian said if you don’t get these mugs back downstairs she’s shuttin’ off the tap and we both know there’s nothin’ sadder than a sober Sailor. Bad for business. I offered to clean up your mess so we could prevent her little strike.” Lewis rubbed his brow and laughed.

“She can be so dramatic, but what do you expect from a woman I suppose. But before I bring the mugs down, how about I be straight with you?” Stan steeled himself for a confrontation as Lewis crossed the room and reached into the nightstand. The man retrieved a bottle of vintage and presented it. “1874. Let’s crack it open.”

“What’s the occasion?” Stan said as Lewis poured two cups.

“My departure. Tomorrow I’m heading south to California.” Stan gripped his tankard tight in response.

“Woah, that's sudden. Even though we’ve got somethin’ good going here?”

“This was always temporary and with your help I can leave sooner. I daresay you shaved a month off my own projections. I can finally get the ol’ business started up again.” Lewis punctuated his excitement with a swig from his mug.

“And what’s the old business?” Stan followed up.

“Well, it’s the business of none of your business.” Lewis retorted, smirking devilishly. Stan mulled over his words carefully.

“Fair, wouldn’t wanna risk me improving your idea again. Guess it’ll just be me and the little mermaid then when you hightail it.”

“Geneva is coming with me.” Lewis said plainly. Stan raised his eyes from his drink. “You’ll need to hitch your cart to another wagon, Stanlan. Me and her are a package deal.” His tone was definitive and that piqued Stan’s interest.

“Huh, I’d always suspected you two were closer than you let on. You always had a thing for marine life?” Lewis smiled, but it failed to meet his eyes.

“Funny enough, I’ve always despised seafood. Unfortunate given my sister’s proclivity for it. She’d feed me nothing but trout and cod if I let her. But don’t let me ruin your review of the place.” Stan blinked a few times.

“You’re Marian’s brother?”

“Don’t go senile on me now old man. I’m the only civilian here and I hoard the pub’s utilities - of course she’s my sister. She put me up after I ran into some financial trouble. Another reason to split sooner rather than later.” Stan was still processing when Lewis rose from his seat. “Anyway, I think you’ve spent more than enough time in my room. In light of my departure I plan to skip dinner tonight and chat with Geneva - so I’ll see you later.” Lewis crossed the room, opened his door, and motioned for Stan to leave. Stan obliged, rising from his seat and patting Lewis on the shoulder as he exited.

“Don’t forget those mugs.” Stan teased. Lewis closed the door with another stony smile. Retreating to his room Stan lit a candle and withdrew the papers purloined from Lewis’ mattress. His eyes quickly scanned the faded transcripts.

_____________________________________

Oklahoma Missing Persons Report
Darlene Jackson
Age 17
Last seen being escorted out of Razzamatazz Bar for intoxication
Lacked commitment

Nebraska Missing Persons Report
Natasha Irving
White
Age 20
Last seen by neighbors the night before her disappearance
Too attached to family

Wyoming Missing Persons Report
Posie Kennedy
Height; 5’2 Weight; 115 lbs
Age 20
Last seen sharing an umbrella with a man the night of her disappearance
Too smart for her own good

Washington Missing Persons Report
Angelica Singer
Age 24
Last seen before her home caught fire on the night of February 21st
Rejected my proposal

_____________________________________

Stan’s mind raced. Looking out his window he saw a lone figure walking down the shore, clad in the distinct silhouette of a raincoat. “Oh fuck.”

Chapter Text

Stan sprinted on the rainy beach, fast as his feet could carry him. Adrenaline drove the older man as he followed the imprints of Lewis’ boots. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” He muttered to himself in a panic. To Stan’s surprise he could see it, the cave mouth that led to the basin where Geneva would be waiting. He rushed inside, using his lighter to navigate the cramped tunnel. A painful scream resounded from further ahead and Stan cursed under his breath. He emerged from the basin to clearer skies, with moonlight illuminating the tragic scene. The silhouette of a figure in a raincoat stood over Geneva’s slumped body. Blood, thick and dark, dripped from a knife clenched in the perpetrator’s hand. Slowly, a torch held in the figure’s other hand began to lower toward the Siren’s body. Stan rushed forward without a second thought to tackle the assailant. Lewis dropped his knife and plunged into the pool of water, failing to resurface. Spitting free a large globule of blood, Geneva cleared her throat enough to speak.

“You came.” Stan attempted to lift the Siren but stopped when she recoiled violently.

“Oh fuck, that’s way too much blood. Damnit! I tried to stop this; I couldn’t find the cave I-” Geneva interrupted him.

“You couldn’t stop this. Not in this time.” Stan supported the Siren as she propped herself on a nearby boulder. “My death could not be averted. But with your help, it can be avenged.”

“I don’t understand. You’re speakin’ like you already know what’s gonna…This already happened.” Stan said with dawning horror. Geneva’s body flickered translucently before solidifying.

“When you kissed the anchor, you unknowingly roused my spirit. On this night, Lewis revealed to me his true nature. When I rejected his demands, he lashed out with the experience of one who had killed before and would kill again.” Her form flickered and the water in the basin bubbled. “He burned my body and collected the ashes, spitefully denying me a proper burial. When my people imprisoned him, he took the secret to his grave, trapping us both in that chest for a century.” The basin began to boil with vapor rising in plumes.

“Why are you telling me this? What am I supposed to do against a ghost?”

“You have the anchor; you have my ashes. I plead, return me to the ocean. Once I am free Lewis’ spirit will have nothing left to be tethered to.” Geneva raised a hand to Stan’s worried face. “I thank you for trying to save me, but you can do that by making things right in the present.” A torrent of scalding hot water exploded out of the basin as Geneva placed a kiss on Stan’s forehead. Everything went white hot.

_____________________________________

Stan’s eyes opened and he knelt before the treasure chest where he’d found Lewis’ body. The chest was overflowing with water that crept along the ground. At the last second, before the water could touch him, Stan hopped onto his feet. The chest bubbled and skeletal arms extended, leveraging themselves so that the specter within could pull itself free. Lewis leered at Stan with hollow eyes as his face and body warped beyond recognition. “Give her back to me!” His voice screeched like grinding metal. Stan held his beanie in one hand and the necklace in the other. A gunshot rang out, cleaving a chunk from Lewis’ right shoulder. Ford rushed to his brother's side and positioned himself between Stan and the ghost.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Stanley!”

“I’ll apologize later, point the way outta here!” Stan and Ford dashed, seizing the opportunity as Lewis’ form stabilized. Lewis watched the twins disappear down a tunnel and his form roiled. As the duo ran, Stan explained the situation best he could to Ford.

“You were pulled into a constructed world by the lingering will of a century old serial killer’s final victim? Remind me to probe you for every detail after we deal with this phantom. If we can get back to the entrance, then you can disperse the ashes.”

“You make it sound so easy!” Stan said between haggard breaths. Cold mist rushed into the cavern, carrying the sound of crashing waves as Lewis approached. Ford spun in place and sent three shots into the dark, a screech signaling another hit.

“Damnit, look!” Stan pointed ahead at the shifting walls. “He’s messing with the caves again.” Ford reached for his gun and turned a dial. The resulting shot from his laser gun shattered Lewis’ illusion like a broken pane of glass.

“Nobody fools me twice.” Ford said confidently. Stan turned to hide his expression. “Oh, shut it.” The sound of the surging water grew ever closer as the brothers ran. Unable to rely on his illusions Lewis resorted to shooting jets of water from nearby puddles. Stan and Ford bobbed and weaved, with the latter occasionally shooting a puddle to evaporate it preemptively. The game of cat and mouse neared its conclusion as the duo emerged from a tunnel into the entry room of the cave system. “Quick, get to the wat-” Ford was cut off as a gush of piping hot water swelled from beneath him. Carried by the geyser Ford landed amidst a pile of rubble, soaked and steaming. Stan took a few steps before he was propelled into the air and came crashing down. Stan groaned, failing to push aside debris that he’d landed under. From a couple yards away Ford, equally restrained by rubble, shouted, “Stan, get to the water! I’ll hold hi-” Another geyser sent the scientist skyward before landing and busting through the deck of a nearby sailboat. Surging with adrenaline, Stan tossed aside wooden beams and crumbled rock to get to his brother.

Hopping into the hole Stan said frantically, “Ford? Ford, c’mon answer me…”

“Stanley…over here.” Ford whispered through gritted teeth. Stan shuffled closer to his winded brother. “We’re close to the water, we’ve got to make a play.”

“I rush the water, and you cover me with your gun.” Stan reiterated his brother's earlier plan. Ford shook his head and raised his empty hands.

“Metal conducts heat, I lost my grip when it became too hot to hold onto.” A thunderous crash rocked the twins’ surroundings. Stan peaked between broken planks to see Lewis’ ghost destroying ships one by one.

“There’s no use in hiding, come out now and face the music!” After Lewis tore a ship in two, Stan could see the shore on the horizon.

“Ford, I’m sorry. I couldn’t pass up the shot to get this damn necklace, but this is more than that now. I gotta get these ashes into the water.” Ford pulled himself to his feet and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. As the two shared a look Stan experienced a flash of inspiration. “You got any of those vials you put weird junk in?” Ford retrieved a specimen vial from inside his jacket. “Alright, now hear me out.”

_____________________________________

Lewis roared impatiently, sweeping water across the area to find the twins. “Hey, bozo!” Stan shouted. Lewis turned and saw the duo on the deck of a sailboat. “You want this?” Stan goaded, raising the anchor around his neck. “Then come and get it!” The pair narrowly jumped off the ship as a geyser swelled and crushed it against the roof of the cave. Stan and Ford rolled into a sprint with Lewis hot on their tails. With a nod the pair split in different directions. Lewis howled with frustration, tearing his own body in half to pursue both twins at once. Ford dashed for the entrance while Stan ran deeper into the cave.

“You imbeciles! I’ll catch you, and when I do, you’ll both drown. You’ll join that Siren bitch and be trapped down here with me forever!” The brothers dodged geysers and jets best they could, but Ford hadn’t recovered from his fall and was sent head over heels onto the rocky shore. Ford reached toward the water and squealed with pain as Lewis’ hand crushed him round the middle. Stan heard his brother and turned on the spot.

“Stop, stop! That’s enough!” Stan screamed while holding the anchor high. Lewis’ lumbering, bisected body stopped a couple yards shy of grabbing the twin. “You can have it…” All the fight left his voice and Lewis chuckled raggedly out of half a throat. “Just let my brother go, he shouldn’t be punished for my mistake.” Stan pleaded. Lewis squeezed tighter around Ford, eliciting another yelp.

“Actually, I think he’ll drown first.” Lewis dangled Ford upside down, threatening to sink his head underwater. “Any last words for your brother?”

“Yeah…Stanley, now!” Ford reached under his sleeve and uncorked the vial hidden from sight. Grey ashes fell onto the water’s surface and a powerful cerulean light filled the cavern. When their vision returned the brothers were standing on the shore of the Siren Caves before Geneva’s spirit, with Lewis’ own spirit scruffed at the neck and struggling to break free. A whirlpool filled with clawing hands swirled into existence and Geneva granted Lewis his freedom. She dropped him into the water where, with a final scream, he was swallowed by the sea. Ford, masquerading as his brother, passed the anchor back to Stan. As he offered it to Geneva the Siren extended a claw.

“Stanley and Stanford Pines, thank you for returning my body to the sea. To honor your service, I impart the Ocean’s Blessing on to this necklace.” A mote of cerulean light fluttered forward and dispersed after contacting the necklace. “May you both always find a friend in the Sea.” Geneva’s silhouette flashed once before thousands of motes of cerulean light fell into the water like rain. Stan and Ford exchanged a look and smiled.

“You did good, Stan.” Ford offered.

“We both did.” Stan countered. “Surprised that swapping clothes worked twice though.”

“We absolutely cannot rely on that again.” Ford said with certainty.

_____________________________________

The Stan O’ War hoisted anchor and splayed its sails. The brothers waved at Geronimo who waded in the water by the dock. The Siren had more than adequately thanked the pair for solving a century-long mystery. Gerry disappeared into the water and Stan fondly rubbed the anchor which now hung from his neck. “So, where to now?”

“Juneau, Alaska. Cube Cove has given us what it can, so we’ll make a pitstop at the capital to pawn some goods. Also, I’ve got some mail to drop off.” Ford said, patting the research he held under his arm. Stan looked at the island, reminiscing on its visage from 1913. In the Ampersand General store, on the counter, a note read the following.

_____________________________________

Home to some of the best fish I ever ate.

Thank you, Marian, for your hospitality.

★★★★★

Signed, Inspector Stanlan Pines

Chapter Text

Rough waves carried the Stan O’ War II ever closer to Juneau, Alaska. Dark clouds carried by cold winds blanketed the sky, releasing lightning that provided a flash of light amidst the otherwise blackened seas. It was weather that demanded a series of responses by the twins, but Stan found himself pulling most of the slack. Ford sat at his desk, scribbling hastily between sips of coffee as he shirked his responsibilities. However, given the bailing out Ford had done down in the Siren Caves, Stan opted to leave his brother to whatever fixation possessed him. Stan took to his chores; bringing down sails, adjusting the autopilot's navigation, closing windows, and double checking the preparedness of their life boat. A solid three hours had passed when Stan returned below deck, groaning as he popped off his boots in the kitchen. “Lunch…” He muttered to himself, both as a plea, and as motivation. After preparing a spam and cheese sandwich Stan shuffled his way down the hall to his and Ford’s bedroom. To no surprise, Ford remained at his desk, with a now empty bag of jellybeans the only indicator time had passed. Stan slipped a sandwich onto Ford’s desk, its fragrance coaxing the scientist away from his work to take a bite. “And what do we say?” Stan prodded his brother like a child.

“Hm, thank you.” Ford supplied in between large bites.

“You’re welcome.” Stan harrumphed. With Ford’s arms moved Stan could see what his brother had painstakingly worked on all morning. “Is that a drawing…Of yourself?” He said with disbelief. Ford took another bite of his lunch and nodded. “I broke my back all morning so you could doodle!” Stan erupted; hand dramatically pressed to his hip.

“It’s not just any doodle Stanley, it's my character art for Dipper’s game tonight.”

“Don’t you blame this on the kid-wait…That's tonight?”

“Yes, it’s the last Thursday of the month so we play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with Dipper and Mable tonight.” Stan’s face paled. Ford gripped the back of his chair with panic. “Tell me you’ve statted your character.” Stan averted his gaze, and Ford rose from his chair. “Tell me you’ve got a character concept!” Sweat collected on Stan’s brow, and Ford gripped his brother by the straps of his tank top. “Why would you do all the chores by yourself if you hadn’t finished your character Stanley, I could’ve helped you!”

“I forgot!” Stan cried out. “Whenever I thought of cracking open that thesaurus of a rulebook, I got exhausted. Books shouldn’t be that heavy Stanford!” Ford took a deep inhale before responding.

“Right. Well, we’ve got three hours until it’s time to play. That’s plenty of time to create a character you’re willing to play for the next twelve to fifteen months. No pressure!” Ford grabbed his copy of the D-D-and More D player’s handbook and sat on the bottom bunk with his brother. “You’re in luck, considering Dipper prefers to play with a more limited ruleset than standard. Instead of thirty-seven race options with sixteen classes, you only must choose from twenty-one race options and ten classes.”

“Uh, Ford, I dunno how to tell you this, but we’re White.”

“What? No. No, I’m not talking about the human concept of race or ethnicity, but the constructed definition used to categorize fantastical pseudo-sapiens.” Stan’s face was one of horror, prompting Ford to clarify. “You can play a Human, or things like Humans. Dwarves, Gnomes, Goblins, Orcs -”

“Oh, you mean like Elves and stuff?” Ford’s face scrunched with disdain.

“Yes, Elves are in fact an option but-”

“I wanna play an Elf.”

“Why an Elf of all things?” Ford remarked.

“I always wanted pointier ears.”

“You’re kidding me.” Ford retorted.

“Hey, you don’t get to rain on my parade here Nerd Supreme. Your drawing over there looked just like you, at least I’m playing something pretend for the pretend game.”

“As if Elves are even that different from Humans.” Ford grumbled whilst filling in Stan’s character sheet. “Fine, you’re an Elf. That grants you a bonus to Dexterity and Charisma, along with proficiency in ranged weapons.”

“Like guns?” Stan asked simply.

“No. Well, yes, technically, but this is moreso referencing weapons such as the longbow or-”

“Nah, I’ll take a gun. Shotgun preferably.”

“You want a gun optimized for short range usage?”

“It’s still a gun Ford. It should count, shouldn’t it?” Ford sighed, combing through the errata for pricing on a low-grade shotgun.

“Alright. An Elf, with a shotgun. Next, we need to choose your class. There are plenty of options, but considering your bonuses narrows the selection down. Would you rather have a Charisma class like Bard or Sorcerer, or a Dexterity class like Monk or Rogue.”

“Hmm…” Stan pondered while chewing on his sandwich. “Rogue is another word for thief, yeah? I think I can pull that off.” Ford penciled in the class and its appropriate bonuses. A sudden flash and the accompanying boom of thunder caused the twins to scooch closer on the bottom bunk. “Heh, remember that thunderstorm back in the day? Power got knocked out and Ma had us drink two gallons of milk so it wouldn't expire.”

Ford chuckled. “We ate so much cereal. Say, do they still make Fruity Hoops?”

“Call ‘em Froot Loops now.”

“Some changes are so unnecessary. Regardless, that’s the bulk of your mechanical decisions. I’ll finish filling out your sheet with equipment, then we can review your skills.” Stan took the final bite of his sandwich.

“Hey, uh, I know this’ll mean a lot to the kids, so thanks for pickin’ up the slack.”

“I’m just returning the favor for you handling all the chores this morning. So, don’t mention it. Besides, you can use this time to draw your character’s portrait.” Ford said, pushing a sketchbook into Stan’s hands. Stan acquiesced, retrieving a set of crayons Mabel had given them before departing. As the twins worked and chatted, rain began to fall outside. Quietly, they each reminisced, drawing comfort from the familiarity of the scene.

Chapter Text

Ford paced anxiously in the kitchen. Squeaking faucets signaled the end of Stan’s shower, and Ford crossed his fingers. Steam exited into the hallway as Stan emerged, swathed in a towel, gripping a bottle, with a neutral expression. Ford momentarily deflated, until Stan threw up his arms in celebration. “It’s gone!”

“Come again?!” Ford replied, caught off guard. Stan shuffled into the kitchen.

“That foot fungus I’d been at war with? Gone, kaput, donezo!”

“Show me, show me!” After a brief inspection Ford had confirmed it with his own eyes. “Eureka! The formula is a success.”

“I was skeptical, since the first two creams did bupkis, but hey, third times the charm.”

“Indeed, I just had to rebalance the pH with some apple cider vinegar. It would seem Thuja Plicata produced a substance far more alkaline than expected given its chemical composition. Likely a reaction to the recombinant-”

“Nerd alert.” Stan interjected. Ford shifted his glasses and cleared his throat.

“Right, well, thank you Stanley for your gracious offering to be my test subject. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“No problem, slathering some gunk on my body is worth you doing the laundry for a few weeks.” Stan passed the non-descript bottle of lotion to Ford who placed it in the fridge. “And not a moment to spare, cause we’ll be in Juneau tomorrow yeah?”

“Correct. That reminds me, here.” Ford withdrew a piece of paper folded into quarters. “I catalogued every object we’ve agreed to pawn.” Stan tapped the paper to his forehead.

“Good thinkin’, thanks for goin’ through all that junk. While I’m off comparing buyers, you’re gonna try an hunt down this Jan woman that ran the grocery store?”

Ford nodded before answering, “Her letter said a ship was scheduled to take residents from Cube Cove to Juneau. With luck, I can track her down and pass off my findings. Now, you go get dressed so I can take your towel and start the laundry.”

“It’s just the two of us, do I even really need this?”

“Decency, Stanley.” Ford grimaced.

“But we’re twins, they're the same parts!”

“We’re not having this conversation.”

_____________________________________

The twins disembarked the Stan O’ War II after docking in Juneau, Alaska. While still chilly there was a noticeable increase in temperature, explained by the density of people and their accompanying carbon emissions. Ford had dusted off the old trench coat, tucking his research into an interior pocket for safekeeping. “Alright, this is where we part ways.” He declared. Stan placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

“Ya sure you don’t want me to come with? You haven’t been in a city this big since being back from multiverse land.”

Ford guffawed, “Please Stan, I’ve navigated metropolis’ that dwarf the scale of anything humanity could hope to construct. I think I can handle the second smallest U.S capital.” Stan didn’t seem reassured but nevertheless removed his hand.

“Then I’ll see you back at the ship tonight.” Stan tucked his hands into his coat and followed signs towards the downtown area. Ford scanned his surroundings, admittedly charmed by the coastal town. “Right, the first place I should check are the yellow pages. Just need a phone booth.” After walking for two blocks Ford spotted an enclosed booth on the horizon. “And Stanley was worried.” He remarked to himself. Stepping into the booth Ford reached into a small cabinet under the telephone and found not a book, but a plaque. “In Memoriam to Dwight Berkenshire who used this phone to call first responders on February 5th during a factory fire. Through his quick thinking many were spared.” Ford read aloud. The scientist checked the small area twice over but found no phonebook, and realized that the phone itself lacked a line. “Perhaps I spoke too soon.” Ford theorized. After stepping out the booth Ford noticed a U.S postal truck and snapped his fingers. “Aha, the post office might be able to help me out.”

_____________________________________

“I can’t help you out.” The young teller said through glass. “Can’t give out something like an address just because you have the name. Security reasons.”

“But-” Ford began.

“Even for family.” The teller said flatly, anticipating the older man’s deception.

“Blasted…Then tell me, how do I find this woman so I can return her belongings?”

“I dunno, library?”

“You’re holdin’ up the line!” Shouted an aggrieved customer. Ford popped his collar to cover his face.

“Do you have the address for the closest library?” The teller scribbled onto a piece of receipt paper and passed the address to Ford. “Thank you.”

“Have a nice day. Next!”

_____________________________________

Ford rubbed his hands to warm them as he approached the front desk. “Uh, pardon me. I’m in need of some assistance.” The young aide looked up from their computer.

“Well, you’re in luck, because that's exactly what they pay me to do! How can I help?” Ford patted his trench coat.

“I have a few belongings for a woman named Jan Ampersand. I’ve good reason to believe she lives nearby, but I haven’t the fortune to locate an address. I’ve tried phone books, and the local post office to no avail. Tell me, is there any chance you have a chronicle of residents for the area? Genealogies perhaps?” The aide scrunched their face with thought.

“We do have the latter, but access is restricted for those from the college. Do you happen to work there?” Ford drooped, providing an answer enough. “Right, so I can’t let you look at those, but maybe there’s a simpler solution. Have you tried Googling that name?”

“On the internet?” Ford kicked himself, imagining the computer back on the Stan O’ War a couple miles away.

“Yeah. You can use one of our computers if you’d like. We’ve got a few for public use on the second floor, passwords written on a sticker on the front.” Ford perked up and gave a half bow.

“Thank you very much!” He exclaimed before dashing round the corner and up the stairs.

“He moves quick for an old guy.” The aide remarked. After fumbling for the power switch Ford began to scroll through search results for ‘Jan Ampersand’. “This might be something…” He said under his breath. An article spoke of ‘The Cube Cove Five’, five researchers who’d left the island after years of solitary work. “According to this Jan Ampersand went in on a home with a few of her fellow researchers near Cope Park. Ah, a picture!” Ford zoomed in on the provided image, noting a ‘59’ emblazoned on the mailbox. “59 Cope Park, a brown house with a green tile roof! Huzzah!” Ford shouted, eliciting shushes and weird looks from a few others in the library. The older man felt his cheeks heat up as he dashed down the stairs and out of the library.

_____________________________________

Ford traveled down a wooden walkway. Using what little light the sunset could provide in this coniferous forest he searched for 59 Cope Park. In the dead center of the park, he’d found it, a small set of stairs leading off the walkway and toward a rustic brown home. Ford descended to a dirt road, approached the home, climbed onto the patio and rang the doorbell. A light switch flicked on in the home and footsteps hurried to the front door. “She’s spry.” Ford commented before folding his arms behind his back. To his surprise, a young woman with wavy brunette hair opened the door. She examined the taken aback Ford with a scrutinizing look.

“Hi, are you lost?”

“What?” Ford replied.

“I don’t get a lot of visitors out here, and you don’t look like any package delivery guy I’ve seen, so, how can I help you?”

“Yes, um, I’m looking for Jan Ampersand, I’ve got some documents she might want a look at.” The woman’s face soured.

“Listen bud, I don’t know what organization or charity you’re from, but my mom has been dead for three years. Take her name off the list and-”

“Dead?” Ford choked.

“Yeah, dead.” She reiterated with pain in her voice. “So, if all you’re here to do is try and extort me for some donations then get off my property.” As the door began to close Ford slid his foot in between it and the frame. “What’re you-” The young woman began as Ford interrupted.

“You’re Fran.” The woman froze. “Jan’s daughter was Fran Ampersand, is that you?”

“Francine, but my mom called me Fran. How do you know that? Who are you?” Ford removed his foot and adjusted his glasses.

“A supporter of your mother’s work. Please, may I come in?”

Chapter Text

Francine took a breath and opened the door. “Against my better judgement, fine. Come in, but please take your shoes off. Most of the house is carpet so getting out mud can be a pain.” Ford stepped into the home and obliged, taking off his boots and placing them beside the front door. Francine triple locked the front door. “Here, I’ve got some slippers you can borrow.” She produced a pair of white rabbit-faced slippers at odds with the scientist's aesthetic, but they did remind Ford of Mabel, so he donned them without complaint. Francine took a few steps deeper into the home and pointed into the adjacent room. “You can take a seat in the den while I get a drink. Do you want one? I’ve only got diet Pitt Cola.” Ford wasn’t a fan of diet soda, but the tingle in his throat convinced him it’d be better than nothing, so he assented.

“That would be appreciated, thank you kindly.” Francine disappeared down the hallway into a kitchen while Ford turned into the den. The room was spacious with high ceilings and a plethora of furniture. Ford shuffled to the red suede couch and sunk into its plush cushions. He perused the space, noting minor damage to the upholstery, walls, and electronics. Strangely, however, aside from clanking in the kitchen the home was quiet and seemingly empty. Francine returned with two glasses and offered one to Ford who graciously accepted. After sitting in a mauve armchair, the young woman continued her questioning from the porch.

“So, you know my name, what’s yours?”

“Stanford Pines, but please, call me Ford.”

“And Ford, how did you know my mother?”

“Well, I never met Ms. Ampersand personally, but many years ago I’d heard of the work she and her colleagues were doing in Cube Cove. They were on the cusp of a major pharmacological breakthrough with their study of Thuja Plicata.”

“Right, the stuff they were trying to do with trees. It was a bit of a sore spot, so Mom didn’t talk much about it.”

“Understandably. You are likely aware, but when funding was prematurely cut the group's research ended abruptly. My brother and I are currently sailing to the Arctic so, on a whim, I decided we should stop to pay a visit to the researchers in Cube Cove.” Francine’s posture shifted.

“Wait a minute, did you go to the island?”

“Indeed.” Ford replied.

“That's…Cube Cove hasn’t seen recreational use in over two decades. You need special permits for a ship to bring you to the island.”

“Oh, uh, do you now?” Ford stammered. Francine picked up on the discomfort immediately.

“Holy shit, you trespassed, and you didn’t even know it?” She said with disbelief.

“Well, I mean, is that really here or there.” Ford waffled. “What is important is that during our pitstop we disembarked and did some digging around. After stumbling upon one Cabin 8 we found this letter.” Ford produced the handwritten testament of Jan Ampersand and passed it to her daughter. Francine read the note multiple times, her eyes growing wet. After giving her time to pat the tears away Ford continued. “I brought this letter along as proof we’d visited her General Store and followed the clues it left.”

“Clues?” Francine questioned. Ford took a moment to explain the encoded message. “Go to Cabin 13…What was in Cabin 13?” She asked curiously. Ford produced a heavy folder and opaque bottle of ointment, placing both on the coffee table.

“All of their research, tucked into a handful of files, in a long-abandoned desk. While your mother and her colleagues’ work was inconclusive, I decided to take a crack at the formula myself to great success. In this bottle you have a sample, and in those files the recipe.” Francine lifted the bottle, uncorked it, and examined the contents. Despite her curiosity, Ford deflated. “It's unfortunate that I arrived a bit too late. If it's not too much to ask, how long ago did she pass?” Francine looked up.

“Three years ago, cancer.”

“I’m so sorry.” Was all Ford could bring himself to say.

“Thank you.” Francine replied. “And thank you for this, I’m certain my Mom would’ve loved that her work meant something to someone. So, is this some kind of antifungal cream?”

“Precisely so, how could you tell?”

“Mom might’ve been tight lipped, but we shared this home with a couple of her coworkers and their families. I gathered over time they were aiming for an antifungal better than anything on the market. And you’re saying you did it?”

Ford adjusted his glasses, “Yes. Yes, I did.” Francine eyed the ointment with a soft smile before frowning.

“Oh, damnit. Are you trying to sell me the rights to the formula?”

“What? No.” Ford said flatly. Francine’s shock was visible. “I intended to give the formula to your mother so she could patent and market it.”

“But you worked on a project that had been abandoned for twenty years. You want some kind of compensation, don’t you?” Ford waved his hands.

“No, no, no. This wasn’t about financial gain. Well, at least not for me. This was about doing right by the scientists who dedicated themselves and got screwed by the levers of big business. With your mothers passing and seemingly no one else in the home, I bequeath ownership of the formula to you.”

Francine pointed to herself, “Me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re giving the formula for a super ointment to me, for free, no charge?”

“Exactly.”

“You understand why I have some doubts, don't you.”

Ford crossed his arms, “I can assure you the formula is safe. I tested it on both me and my brother.”

“Well, yeah but what’s the catch?”

“What catch?”

“For three years it’s been settling estates, debt collection, and charity’s trying to shake me down for donations. Then, on a random Thursday evening, you show up at my door and hand off the completed research of a project that tanked twenty years ago. Doesn’t that sound a bit hard to believe to you?”

“Well, a touch, but I’ve encountered far weirder in my time.” Francine was dumbfounded as Ford stood and folded his arms behind his back. “It’s getting late, and I imagine I’ve imposed quite enough for one day. I’ll be in the capital while me and my brother restock for our journey north. Why not take the time to bring the sample to a product tester and get their input. When everything comes back clear, you can choose to do what you wish with it.” Ford moved to exit the den, noticing a large, white feather on the mantle of the fireplace. His eyes squinted. “Say, Francine.”

“Huh? Oh, Fran is fine.” She responded.

“Fran. This feather, where did you find it?”

“In the park. I bird watch in the early morning and found it on one of my trails, likely from a snowy owl. Don’t worry, I made sure to handle and clean it properly.”

“I don’t doubt that, it looks pristine.” Ford's words lingered as he scrutinized the feather, far too large to belong to a snowy owl. Ford reached into his coat, scribbled on a piece of paper, and placed it on the mantle. “My number, in case you wish to give me a phone call. I’m still getting used to having a cell phone so apologies if I don’t pick up right away.” Francine followed Ford to the front door where he exchanged the bunny slippers for his wellington boots. “Good night, Fran.” The young woman, still clutching the bottle of ointment, nodded once.

“Goodnight.” After the door closed and its locks were reapplied Ford set off through Cope Park. As the man walked, he recounted the young woman's situation and found himself thinking of his own late mother, Caryn. Perhaps Ford could convince Stan to swing by Jersey after wrapping up their work in the Arctic.

Chapter Text

Stan ran underneath the nearby bus stop and was granted a reprieve from the rain. He sighed, took off his beanie, and wrung it free of water. Water flowed through the city streets in rivulets, carrying trash and debris into sewer grates. Stan withdrew his cellphone, dialed Ford’s number, and waited patiently. On the fifth ring he considered hanging up but before the sixth he got a response.

“Hello?” Ford asked through the phone.

“Finally! I’ve been callin’ you all mornin’, why didn'tcha pick up sooner?”

“Poor service in the woods. I told you what I’d be doing, why the worry?”

“Leavin’ me a note that says ‘out hiking’ doesn’t paint much of a picture Ford. What’ve you been doin’ all this time out in the woods anyway? It’s not like you’re on some reserve, it's a park on the edge of town.”

“I’m being…Stanley. We’ll talk…I get back later. Can’t climb…at the same…” Were all Stan could pick up over the encroaching static. Frustrated, he hung up. The pleasant smell of coffee, chocolate, and hazelnuts sweetened Stan’s sour disposition. His eyes scanned for the source of the aroma, spying a cafe squished between two corporate buildings. With a wad of cash burning a hole in his pocket he crossed the street and climbed the steps. As Stan entered a bell rung, grabbing the attention of a hostess.

“Take a seat anywhere you like sir, someone will be with you shortly.”

“Can do ma’am.” Stan said before grabbing a window seat table for two. The same hostess deposited a single side menu of baked goods and coffee drinks onto Stan’s table. “Your waitress will be with you in a flash.” Stan nodded his head and turned toward the menu. The aforementioned waitress approached two minutes later with notepad in hand.

“Good afternoon, sir, what can I get for you?”

“Cup of joe and a raspberry and cheese danish. Actually, make it two. I scored big on a sale earlier so I can afford to treat myself.”

“Can’t argue with that. And what kind of milk do you - wait, Mr. Ford, what’re you doing here?” Stan looked up from his menu and was taken aback by an uncanny recollection.

“Marian?” He whispered after taking in the brunette's visage.

“Come again?” Francine replied. Stan couldn’t believe the resemblance, despite knowing that Marian had to be long gone he still mistook it for her. As he stared at the young woman her prior question caused him to refocus.

“Wait, did you call me Ford? You know my brother?” The waitress placed a hand on her hip and laughed under her breath.

“Just when I thought this couldn’t get any sillier. Yes, yes I do. And you must be the brother he’s sailing up to the Arctic with?” Stan eyed the woman curiously, unaware of the reason why Ford would be in contact with a girl quite this young. Noting his silence Francine dug into her pocket and withdrew a crumpled paper with Ford’s name and phone number. “This Stanford Pines your brother?”

“No denying it, only my brother would end his phone number with a period like that. Sorry for the confusion, but I’m Stanley, and yes, I’m Ford’s twin.”

“Mentioning the brother part but not the twin part feels like leaving out a major piece of the story. Ah well, I can let it slide. So, Stanley, you seem surprised. Did Ford not bring me up?”

“My brother may be a brainiac but he’s not the best at keeping me in the loop, unless he writes it down. What made your paths cross?” Francine gave Stan a quick rundown of their meeting at her home in Cope Park. “I understand your skepticism, but he’s right about that cream ya know, helped me out big time.”

“I’ve got a product tester running results downtown but so far, yeah, it appears he was being truthful. If this works out, I’ll owe you both big time. I can start by getting your order in. Half and half and sugar cubes for the coffee?”

“What do I look like some kind of horse?”

“If the horseshoe fits.” Francine shot back. Stan laughed at the woman's quick wit as she walked off with a grin. Couple minutes later, the waitress deposited two gorgeous danishes and a piping hot cup of coffee with fixings. Stan rubbed his hands together in anticipation, excited enough to miss the phone vibrating in his pocket. After taking a few bites, Stan slapped his knee with delight.

“These are amazing! It’s always the small places tucked away with the best grub.”

“I’ll let the Baker know. Say, where is Ford now anyway?”

“Hm? Oh, off in the woods somewhere. Come to think of it, he’s in your neck of the woods out in Cope Park. He’s been hiking around there every day from sunup to sundown.”

“Weird, I do bird walks in the morning but haven’t seen him. Any idea what he’s looking for?”

“Know Ford it’s probably some eight-foot-tall pigeon.” Stan felt the phone buzz in his pocket and dug around for it. After withdrawing it he saw three text messages from Ford.

_____________________________________

stanFORD: I’m sorry about the phone call, the service out here is remarkably bad.

stanFORD: Weather is getting worse by the minute. Going to turn in early and head back to the Stan O’ War.

stanFORD: I need backup! Stuck in a tree on Trail J4. Bring steak, questions later!

_____________________________________

Stan blinked a few times in rapid succession, causing Francine to grow curious.

“Everything OK?” she asked, plainly.

“Huh, oh, yeah, yeah, uh, Ford just needs me right away! Here, uh, a twenty should cover it, yeah?” Stan said whilst hastily rifling through bills.

“More than enough but, woah!” Francine ducked out the way as Stan sprinted out the store and into the deluge outside. “What’s the hurry!” Francine looked at the table, picking up Stan’s unlocked phone and reading the messages displayed. “What in the world?”

Chapter Text

“Thanks for covering me Kayden!” Francine said as she exited the cafe. The young woman opened her umbrella and brought her phone to her ear.

“Please leave a message for, Stanford Pines, after the tone.” Francine closed her phone with frustration and concern, that was the third attempt to get in touch with no luck. She fished Stan’s phone from her other pocket and read the messages once again.

_____________________________________

stanFORD: I need backup! Stuck in a tree on Trail J4. Bring steak, questions later!

_____________________________________

“J4, he must be in Cope Park.” She muttered to herself. Her imagination failed to find a reason why Ford would be in a tree on a day like this. It had taken twenty minutes to find coverage, but she set off to help the older men the moment her coworker Kayden arrived. Running off muscle memory, Francine traversed the rainy streets, taking shortcuts, and hopping a puddle here and there. In no time she was back in Cope Park, running along the central wooden walkway. After arriving at a sign marked ‘J Trails Begin Here’ she descended onto the dirt road. “J1…J2…J3…” Francine counted as she ran. “J4!” She exclaimed, breaking off a smaller dirt road amidst brush. A sudden, pained scream from further along the road caused Francine to pick up the pace. She followed the sounds of snarls and grunts off the path, bursting through a pair of bushes onto the scene. A creature, probably four feet long, with fur and feathers, snapped its beak at Stan’s hands. The older man was playing keep away with a piece of raw meat and losing.

“Francine?! What are you doing here?” The question guided Francine’s eyes up to Ford, about twelve feet off the ground, clinging to a tree trunk. Stan noticed the young woman and, in his distraction, provided an opportunity for the creature to snatch the sirloin and flee into the brush. Despite her confusion she approached the downed man and offered a hand up, noticing a cut along his forearm.

“Are you OK, what was that thing?” Stan groaned as he accepted the help onto his feet.

“A gryphon cub.” Ford answered whilst shuffling down the trunk. “Likely separated from its mother considering its size.”

“A gryphon cub?” Francine said incredulously. She looked at Ford’s head. “And why are you wearing cat ears?” Ford removed the cheap accessory with a sigh.

“I was hoping to fool it with a disguise, but we’re out of season for high quality Halloween costumes.” The older man also removed a crooked tail attached to his belt. Stan interrupted the questioning by punching his brother in the shoulder. “Ow! Stanley, what was that for?!”

“You made me buy meat and run into the arms of a predator you jerk! That thing coulda clawed my eyes out.” Ford rubbed his shoulder.

“It’s a child Stanley, I knew you could handle yourself. However, I didn’t anticipate it had learned to pounce yet given its inability to climb this tree.” Stan wasn’t pleased by the logic, but Francine seized the pause to rein in the conversation.

“Are you serious about that being a gryphon and not just some mutant wildcat?”

“Oh, I’m quite sure. While rudimentary talons and feathers could exist in the genetic code of a feline, that beak is a clear indicator of its hybrid nature. It’s where that feather on your mantle came from.” Francine recalled how Ford stared at the previously identified owl feather.

“You could tell just based on the feather sample?”

“I am North America’s leading Cryptozoologist, such skill at identification is expected.”

“You’re America’s leading what.”

“Jeez Ford, did you explain anything to her?” Stan interjected.

“I explained what was pertinent!” Ford shot back.

“Alright, well, give me the truncated version of what it is you actually do, and why you were out here stuck in some tree.” Ford went to reply but Stan raised his scratched red forearm.

“Maybe after I get this bandaged?” Francine took a breath before responding.

“Right. My house, this way, let's get out of the rain.” The trio hoofed it back to 59 Cope Park where Ford proceeded to explain the nature of his work while dressing Stan’s wound. “So not only are cryptids and magical creatures real, but you study them for a living?” Francine clarified.

“Precisely.” Ford responded as he stuck the bandage to itself.

“How do you make money off of studying creatures that aren’t universally accepted to exist?”

“Don’t ask us, or our accountant.” Stan responded. “Mostly Poindexter's inventions or loot we come across.”

“Aren’t you two a bit old to be scavenging your way through life?” Francine remarked from the kitchen. She walked into the den with three mugs, each containing hot chocolate. The twins each took a mug before Francine took her own and sunk into a beanbag.

“You’re taking these revelations about reality suspiciously well.” Ford said. The scientist ripped six sugar packets and dumped their contents into his cocoa.

“Can’t really deny what I saw with my own eyes.” Francine replied.

“Sure you can, our perception can trick us-”

“Slow it, don’t convince me to believe you less.” Francine interjected. Ford couldn’t argue and instead sipped his drink. “So, gryphon cub. You knew it was in the area based on the feather, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I gave you my number in case anything weird popped up. And, while I was confident about my ID of the feather, I couldn’t be sure the gryphon was still local. I had to stake out the trails over the week and only kept at it when I found distinct tracks of alternating paws and talons.” Ford sipped his drink and passed Stan some sugar packets. “After finding the tracks I bought the ears and tail as they were the best I could get my hands on.”

“Mabel coulda scrounged up something better, that girl has a knack for thrifting.” Stan said, seizing the moment to gush.

“Yes, well, with our grandniece hundreds of miles away I had to go with what was available.”

“But why a cat?” Francine inquired.

“Gryphons are born from the union of two carnivores, one avian and one feline. Whichever parent birthed the creature determines the size of its body plan including features like wingspan, tail length, and paw size. Considering the ratio of its footprints to feathers, I determined this gryphon’s mother was the avian. I believe this gryphon to be about seven to nine months old, an age where it can fly but its hunting skills are still poor. At this developmental stage the gryphon would still be sticking alongside its feline parent, learning by observation and finishing off weakened prey. By dressing as a cat, I hoped to register as enough of a paternal figure to get close and examine it. Unfortunately, it saw through my deception with ease.” Francine sipped her cocoa, taking in the analysis.

“But why examine it, aren’t you looking to capture it?”

“Heaven’s no! I have no means of containing a gryphon! They can range anywhere from six to ten feet in length once fully grown. Besides, I believe it to be injured.”

“Sure pounced on me like it wasn’t injured.” Stan complained.

“Oh, it most certainly is, and the pouncing confirms it. Think about it, if you could fly and your prey could not, wouldn’t you swoop down to hunt in favor of sticking to the ground?”

“A hunting preference because of its avian mother.” Francine reiterated Ford’s earlier assessment.

“Exactly! But it didn’t fly up to me in the tree, and it chose to pounce Stan rather than fly. Combining this with the fact its parent is nowhere to be seen leads me to the conclusion that-”

“Its wings are injured somehow.” Francine concluded quicker than Ford, slowed by his grandstanding.

“Right. From up in the tree, I noticed a white puss on its back, likely an infection of some kind. If I can get closer, I can apply some of the experimental ointment I developed using your moms research. Once it can fly it should return home to wherever its parent is.” Francine felt her heart flutter at the mention of her mother, downing the twinge of sadness with a large gulp of cocoa.

“OK. So, where is the gryphon now?”

“Likely back in its cave, it emerged to chase me from it earlier this morning.”

“Then we’ll go back and administer the ointment.”

“Woah, hey, I’m all for saving the itty-bitty kitty but with those claws we can’t get close enough to do none of that. Not unless you have tranquilizers.” Stan said in Ford’s direction, prompting his brother to shake his head no.

“Won’t need it, I’ll get you a costume.” Francine said whilst scrolling through her contacts.

“On such short notice? How?” Ford questioned.

“I know a guy.” Francine replied before phoning a saved contact. “Hey Harold, it’s Fran. Remember how you owe me for covering your shift back in May so you could go to that convention? Yeah. Yeah, that one. Well, I got a favor, think I can borrow your puma suit for a couple of hours?”

Chapter Text

Fran and Stan sat in the den patiently. “You really think this is going to work?” Stan questioned.

“I wouldn’t doubt Harry’s craftsmanship; besides, what's the better alternative?” Francine replied.

“OK, it’s taken the better part of an hour, but it appears I have donned this suit appropriately.” Ford remarked from the adjacent kitchen. Stan and Fran perked up as he entered with cushioned footfalls. “So, how do I look?” Fran took in the sight seriously while Stan immediately burst into comedic tears.

“Yup, it looks the same as when Harry wears it. Are you comfortable?”

“It’s a tad tight in places, mostly the arms and legs.”

“Makes sense, Harry’s got no muscle on him whatsoever.”

“Is that an airbrushed six pack?!” Stan choked out amidst his fit of laughter.

“He does bring up a good point, the anatomy of this suit is more humanoid than I anticipated. It reminds me of certain cereal mascots.”

“It means you still have your dexterity; a quadruped suit would be hard to administer the ointment in, wouldn’t it?” Fran rebuked. “Speaking of which, can you move all your fingers?”

“Most of them. It’s only a five fingered glove.” Ford confirmed with a tinge of resentment. “Antiquated fashion design aside, I can work in this. Fortuitously there is a zipper located on the forearms that I can store the ointment in. There happened to already be a bottle of gel inside that inspired the idea.” Stan’s laughing ceased as a series of connections began to form in his brain. Fran raised a finger to her mouth and locked eyes with the old man, confirming his suspicions.

“That’s great! If you’re ready, we can head back to the cave you found the gryphon in. Harry needs the suit back in two weeks, so is that enough time for the cub to heal?”

“That entirely depends on its access to proper nutrition. Do you have any veal stashed away Fran?” Ford requested. The young woman retrieved a pack from her fridge and sighed.

“Conveniently, I’d take some out for dinner tonight, but I can just grab some fast food instead.”

_____________________________________

The trio concealed themselves behind a large set of boulders. Ford pointed ahead toward a cave opening. “That’s where the cub resides. The cavern isn’t deep, perhaps thirty feet at most. Stanley, do you have the cologne?” Stan retrieved from inside his coat two bottles of cologne and passed one to Francine. Fran took a cautionary sniff of the bottle and recoiled.

“This is even more potent than I was expecting. Where did you get this?”

“Bought a box on clearance from a Macy’s couple years back. I used to sell ‘em marked up as ‘Eau de Skunkman’ back at the Mystery Shack.”

“Quickly, douse me from head to toe. It is integral to the illusion that I not just look like a wild animal but smell like one too.”

“You aren’t as far off as you think.” Stan quipped. Fran badly muffled a chuckle.

“What was that? The major drawback to this suit is my dampened hearing. Is anything wrong?”

“Nah, nah, just stand still Poindexter.” Stan and Fran circled and sprayed Ford; the animal suit soaking up the musky cologne. Ford unzipped the pouch on his forearm and Fran slipped the ointment inside. With a salute she wished the older man best. Ford took steps toward the cave before tripping over an unforeseen rock jutting from the ground.

“Five bucks this doesn’t work.” Stan suggested.

“It was my idea, so I’ll stand by it, you're on.” Fran agreed.

_____________________________________

Ford entered the cave on all fours, trudging along the cool, damp stone. Soft, inconsistent snoring guided the scientist to his target, the sleeping gryphon cub. Ford crawled within inches of the creature, slowly searching along its back for the base of its wings. “Aha.” He muttered to himself as he found the puss riddled sores. Carefully, he reached into the pouch and withdrew the bottle of ointment placed by Francine. Because of the suit's bulky appendages, Ford had to grip and squeeze the bottle using just two fingers. He struggled for a period before the topical oozed out and onto the creature's wounds. Ford deposited the ointment and made contact, gently rubbing the cream into place. Predictably, the gryphon stirred from its slumber and rolled away from Ford. The hybrid hissed and pounced, rolling a few feet with the scientist who in turn responded with a guttural growl. The gryphon perked, sniffed the air, and sprung away as Ford rose back onto all fours. The cub submitted quickly in the face of a larger feline, laying on its side as Ford approached. The older man resumed his work, rubbing the soothing ointment across the gryphon’s skin. The hybrid cooed as Ford alleviated its discomfort. “There, there. See, isn’t that much better?” Ford stopped when he could see no more of the cream on the creature’s skin, turning to exit the cave. The gryphon followed, having quickly bonded with the puma. Ford barked three times, confusing the gryphon before a piece of veal came flying into the cave. The cub pounced and feasted, distracted as Ford exited the cave. “Good throw Stanley.” Stan rubbed his hand onto an adjacent tree to clean it of blood.

“Yeah, yeah I’m the best but did it work?”

“All according to plan.”

“Wonderful, and how many more times do we gotta do this?”

“Roughly three to six more times.” Ford replied.

“You’re gonna need to buy more veal.” Stan said flatly toward Fran.

_____________________________________

Five days passed and the gryphon’s recuperation progressed. Ford noticed how day by day the gryphon’s sore began to clear, much to Fran’s delight. After five days of application, of crawling in and out of the cub’s den, it was time. The route was mapped out ahead of time, marked by neon orange flags that Ford could see through the animal suit’s tinted lenses. At sunset, Ford entered the cave and drew the gryphon out. With no meaty distraction the duo trotted for twenty-five minutes to the top of a nearby hill off trail. Ford examined the creature and then nudged it toward the edge. The gryphon hesitated, showing the resilience one would expect of a bird being pushed from the nest. But Ford persisted. “I know this isn’t your first time. Your mother prepared you for this. It’s time to go home.” The scientist nudged the gryphon closer and closer until the hybrid plunged off the ledge. Panic momentarily overcame the old man before the gryphon’s shadowy outline emerged from the tree line below. “You’re doing it! Go, fly, fly to the top of the tallest mountain!” Ford exclaimed, dropping the animal charade as he sprung onto his feet. Stan and Fran emerged from the nearby brush. “He’s flying.”

“I think you were a good stepdad Ford.” Fran commented.

“Hey, don’t forget who fed the little guy every day.” Stan said between sniffles.

“You too Stan. Hey, are you-” Fran was cut off.

“Meat juice in my eye, it burns I tell ya!” Fran chuckled at the absurdity of it all, of these twins, of their connection to her mother, and of the gryphon flying in the distance.

“None of this makes any sense” She thought aloud. The young woman exchanged a glance with Ford who responded to her errant thought.

“We did a good thing” The scientist offered confidently. Thinking of her mother, Fran’s dewy eyes looked onto the horizon.

“I guess we did.” She replied. Shortly thereafter the gryphon’s silhouette melted into the setting sun.

Chapter Text

“Acquiring one month’s worth of supplies is no small task, but I think you did an excellent job Stanley.” Ford said as he perused the cartons, crates, and bags strewn across the deck of the Stan O’ War II.

“What can I say, I’m the best at movin’ product.” Stan boasted. “There were a few holdouts, but the ol’ Pines charm never fails. Now, most of the food is canned, but we’ve also got plenty of stuff we can freeze and thaw out later. Did you manage to install that freezer in the cockpit?”

“Got it up and running last night.” Ford confirmed.

“Great. I refueled everything, flushed the sewage, and stocked up on water. Anything else you can think of before we ship off?”

“Did you pick up more of your meds?” Ford inquired.

“Oh yeah! I’ve gotta go pawn some refills off a pharmacy kid at the Walgreens down the street. But, the boat, you think she’s ready for the journey north?” Stan asked. Ford ran a mental checklist.

“I can’t discern anything integral to our voyage that you’ve failed to acquire. Run along and get your meds, I’ll start bringing these below deck.” Stan smiled with pride as he descended onto the docks and headed into town. Ford grabbed the nearest crate and brought it below deck. After a handful of trips, the old man’s groove was interrupted by a ringing from his right pocket. Ford quickly extracted his phone and brought it to his ear. “Greetings, Stanford speaking.”

“Greetings, Francine calling.” Fran mimicked. Ford adjusted his glasses and smiled.

“Fran! Good to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Today you and your brother leave town, right? I can’t be there because of work, but I wanted to send you off with well wishes.”

“That’s awfully kind of you. Thank you again for the fiasco with that gryphon cub, and to Harry for the suit!”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. He was a little pissed at the amount of mud we got on the suit, but I know a guy at the dry cleaners who worked things out. So, remind me, where are you and your brother going again?”

“We’re tracking a signal in the Arctic Ocean, whose origin lies roughly between the Queen Elizabeth Islands and the North Pole. The signal has waned in frequency since Weirdmaggedon-”

“The nearly world ending event stopped by you, your family, and a collection of local weirdos.”

“Precisely. Although frequency has been reduced to one blip every seventeen hours its position has remained fixed. Likely, the instability caused by Weirdmaggedon caused something to resurface or reactivate. I lack any further details, but in two week’s time we should reach our destination and survey the area.”

“Quite the journey for two old guys, wouldn’t you rather retire?”

“I’ve spent the past thirty years across the multiverse Fran, trekking around one planet is retirement for an intergalactic globe trotter such as I.” Ford boasted. Fran chuckled in response.

“Just be sure to pace yourselves. Oh, and Ford.”

“Yes?”

“My product testers are amazed with the formula. After a few more trials - and a mountain of paperwork - I can start looking for commercial investors. Thanks for completing my mother’s research, I know she’d be happy.” Ford smiled in response but said nothing, allowing Fran to continue. “Anyway, next time you’re in the area let's all sneak away to Cube Cove. I’d love to see my mom’s old store.”

“It’s a promise!” Ford declared. Stan’s silhouette appeared down the road, prompting Ford to wrap things up. “Stan’s coming back, and I shouldn’t keep him.”

“Loud and clear. Give him my best as well, and don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll endeavor to do so! Best, Francine.” Ford said before hanging up. Stan climbed onto the deck and pulled the ramp up behind him.

“I see you haven’t made much progress; ya get distracted?” Stan scrutinized.

“Just saying bye to our new friend Fran.”

“Ah, her. She’s a good kid, and real similar to Marian.” Stan assessed. “We should take her to the island next chance we get.”

“Already agreed to do so. Did you get your medicine?”

“Took a couple extra bucks but I got ‘em, alongside a few that I slipped into my pockets on the way out”

“Ibuprofen?” Ford guessed.

“Ibuprofen.” Stan reassured. The brothers laughed and bumped fists as the sun set on their time in Juneau. Next stop, the Arctic.

Chapter Text

“Alright Grunkle Stan, what would you like to do?” Dipper asked.

“This punk insulted Shanklin so he’s goin’ down. I take out my knife and go for his gut!”

“Awesome, gimme on attack roll.”

“Nat twenty!” Stan shouted. Mabel hooped and hollered on the other end of the computer.

“What?! Again?! Grunkle Ford, you told me his dice weren’t weighted!” Dipper said, flummoxed. Ford rubbed his chin.

“They aren’t. What we’re witnessing is pure chance Dipper.”

“Lady Luck and I go way back.” Stan said smugly. Dipper scrambled in the face of a critical hit as the dungeon boss had exhausted all methods of defense. With a sigh and a smile, he tipped over the miniature.

“With indignant rage you plunge your pocketknife into his armored gut, cleaving through steel before his entrails fall to his feet.”

“And he pees himself!” Mabel added.

“And, he pees himself.” Dipper acquiesced. The Stan twins high fived one another as the entire family celebrated surviving another grueling session.

“I thought I had you guys that time, but no amount of prep can overcome dumb luck.”

“I’ll have you know my luck is very smart and sophisticated.” Stan fired back. The quartet shared a laugh before a knock came to the twins’ door.

“Dinner time!” Mabel said, hopping to her feet. “Goodbye Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, we love you!”

“Love you pumpkin.”, “Love you too dear”, the brothers responded.

“Safe travels, make sure you two stay warm out there.” Dipper said, signing off with a tip of his hat. The livestream dropped and Ford put his laptop to sleep. Stan reclined in bed as the brothers had been playing on his bottom bunk.

“Dinner sounds like a wise idea. Perhaps I can cook tonight.” Ford offered. Stan furrowed his brow in thought.

“If you keep the fire extinguisher close by…and the backup fire extinguisher…and the backup back-” Ford playfully punched Stan in the arm, causing him to snicker. “Yeah, go for it, why not fry up some of the fish I caught earlier?”

“Omega-3’s, good idea.” Ford rose from the bed and cracked his back, causing Stan to shudder. The scientist went up to the deck and retrieved a fish from the icebox. “Arctic char, nice catch Stanley.” Ford remarked to no one. Returning to the kitchen he cranked on the flame, heated a pan with oil, and got to frying. Within forty-five minutes the brothers were seated at the kitchen table. Stan took a cautious bite, added a heaping helping of salt, and then gave Ford a thumbs up.

“Not bad! It’s cooked all the way through this time. Next time just remember to season it.”

“Isn’t the oil seasoning enough? It adds a nutty flavor.”

“We don’t gotta rely on the oils ‘nutty flavor’, we can add salt, and pepper, and lemon if you’re nasty.” Stan punctuated his commentary by adding some lemon-pepper to his fish and taking a large bite. Ford added a pinch of salt and one crack of black pepper before trying his fish again.

“Better?” Stan questioned.

“It’s good, but I think I’ll stick to seasoning my way. But, in the future I’ll be sure to add all this extra onto your fish once it's plated. Deal?”

“More for me.” Stan responded. Dinner transitioned into dessert with Stan popping open a pint of fudge brownie ice cream and Ford picking one of each flavor of jellybean from his jar. Sitting together on the couch Stan proceeded to turn on the T.V for local weather. “Just our luck, looks like a storm is gonna roll through just before we arrive.”

“We’re still a week away, the weather has plenty of time to change its mind before then.” Ford argued.

“Yeah, well, I’ll make sure to do some extra fishing tomorrow and the next day, so we have a surplus.”

“We have two cabinets worth of canned goods, don’t you suppose that's enough?” Ford asked.

“The longer we can go without resorting to the canned stuff the better. Besides, who knows how long we’ll be out here once we track down that anomaly deal. As long as it won’t go bad, the more we stockpile the better.” Stan reasoned.

“Fair point. Speaking of which, I have an update to our investigation.”

“Lay it on me.” Stan said whilst turning down the T.V.

“As you’re aware the signal we are tracking began registering after Weirdmageddon. The signal moved approximately three kilometers from its initial location before coming to a stop. My two ruling hypotheses are either a creature woken from and then returning to hibernation-”

“Like a bear?”

“Akin to a bear. Or an object of some kind floating in the water. The ocean is both vast and deep, so something could have risen to the water's surface and gotten itself stuck.”

“Either of them theories more likely given the scale of the readings you got?”

“I’m more inclined to believe in the object theory, but I’d be lying if the creature theory weren’t my preference.”

“No surprise, we know you’re the type to poke the bear.” Stan joked.

“Regardless, faint readings continue to show activity every handful of days. While it’d be lucky to hope we can sail directly up to it, we are more likely to dock and walk a distance. That’s why I had you purchase crampons back in Juneau.”

“Didn’t have to sell me too hard, they’re spikes for your feet!” Stan exclaimed.

“Precisely, now I was thinking-” A sharp scraping sound caused the brothers to jump. Ford sprung from the couch, rolled toward his trench coat, and withdrew his gun from the pocket. Stan meanwhile had just finished getting into his slippers. “I’ll check out the deck.” Ford declared. The scientist rushed up the stairs, pushed the door, and somersaulted onto the deck. He looked left, then right, then up and identified no threats. Moving toward the edge of the boat he looked into the water and spotted a small glacier. Stan, now in his robe, ascended the stairs onto the deck.

“What is it? Pirates? Penguins? Something else that starts with P?”

“No, just more ice.” Ford said in a deflated tone.

“Eh, give it a few more days and it’ll become background noise. Like hearing boat horns late at night off the Jersey shore.”

“That's just it Stan, we shouldn’t get used to this. Glacial melt this close to the pole is a recipe for worldwide ecological disaster. If this keeps up, all the arctic fauna will be homeless.” Stan’s expression softened at the mention of the word ‘homeless’.

“Anything we can do about it while we’re in the area?”

“Fixing global warming is unfortunately too tall a task on my own. But it doesn’t mean we have to do nothing. After we examine the anomaly, I’ll try scrounging up some rudimentary cooling systems and placing them in the area. We have a spare solar cell that I can use to rig something up.” Ford deducted.

“That’s our problem solver.” Stan boasted. The fizz of soda caused Ford to turn around. Stan offered the can of Pitt Cola to his brother who happily accepted. The two clinked cans and drank as the first of soon to be many snowflakes fell.

Chapter Text

--Two hours, nineteen minutes until landfall--

The smell of beans and bacon permeated the interior of the Stan O’ War II. Stan slathered butter on toast and finished plating breakfast moments before Ford entered the kitchen. “Stanley, what are you doing?” Ford asked.

“What does it look like? I’m makin’ breakfast. C’mon, have a seat.” Stan said with fork and knife in hand.

“I already ate.” Ford responded flatly, maneuvering towards the keurig for more coffee. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really, and you didn’t think to offer me any?” Ford didn’t reply as he refilled his mug. “What number cup is that?” Stan scrutinized.

“Four.” The scientist answered.

“Ya know, four cups of joe ain’t that bad in one day, but it’s a different story when it’s before noon.” Ford rubbed his eyes and sipped his coffee. “Fine, more breakfast for me. I’ll need the strength to carry you when you collapse from exhaustion anyway.”

“We are two short hours from deployment, now is when we are most vulnerable to oversights. After we weigh anchor be ready to-”

“Be ready to fuel the tank in case of an emergency exit. Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Stan said with an eye roll.

“Good. I’ll return to the bedroom and quintuple check our backpacks.” Ford attempted to sip from his empty mug and impatiently refilled it.

“Number five.” Stan noted. The scientist ignored his brother, swiping the toast off the second plate as he retreated down the hall. “You’re welcome!” Stan shouted.
_____________________________________

--Twenty seven minutes after landfall--

The Stan O’ War II floated just off the ice with its anchor weighed. Stan finished refueling the boat while Ford drove the last of six stakes into the ice to further secure it. Having donned extra layers to deal with the negative degree weather both brothers were encumbered and moved slowly. Stan disembarked from the boat and joined Ford.

“Temperature is slightly below normal, chance of precipitation is less than three percent, and wind speed is low. These are some of the best conditions we could hope for. Our target, a lingering signal approximately four hours north-north west by foot. Crampons fastened?” Ford questioned. Stan wordlessly stomped in place, letting the steel spikes dig into the glacial ice underfoot. “Good, then let us make haste. Follow me.” Ford declared. Stan watched his brother march off without a second to spare. Turning to look back at the docked boat the old man clenched his gloved hands, already missing the warmth it's interior provided. “Stanley, don’t fall behind.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stan said. After adjusting his backpack the old man followed in his brother's footsteps into the cold unknown.
_____________________________________

--Three hours, fifty seven minutes after landfall--

The Arctic was as boring as expected with snow and ice as far as the eye could see. At one point the pair had come across a singular stray Puffin but Ford urged Stan not to linger because it was likely being pursued by a predator. Still, the man quickly snapped a photo and forwarded it to Mabel. Outside of time updates Ford was quiet, leaving Stan to have mostly one sided conversations about random topics.

“So that’s why even if Staten Island was part of Jersey I don’t think Long Island would’ve been made the fifth borough. Whaddya think poindexter?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes.” Ford said, clearly failing to pay his brother much attention.

“Look, if you wanna strike up a better conversation then-” A strong gust of wind sent a wave of cold down Stan’s open mouth, causing his dentures to clench shut. Ford adjusted his goggles and looked at the horizon with disbelief.

“That doesn't make sense, why is there a storm moving in?”

“Uh, a storm?” Stan echoed with more worry.

“By the looks of it a blizzard, and it will be on top of us in twelve or so minutes.” Ford estimated.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Stan questioned.

“There was no sooner!” Ford shot back. “I’ve been tracking and calculating the weather all morning.” Another strong gust threatened to bowl both twins over. Stan set his backpack on the ground and began unbuckling straps. “What are you doing?” Ford asked.

“Setting up camp, what’s it look like?” Stan replied.

“We’re just about an hour from our destination, we can’t stop now!” Ford reasoned.

“No use in walking into something when it’s already that strong that far away. We’ll be blind, cold, and deaf.” Stan countered. Ford gazed at the horizon with concern etched into his brow. “Ford! We’ve got ten minutes to get a tent up so help me!” Stan shouted over the growing gale.

“We’re so close.” Ford muttered.

“What?!” Stan shouted, failing to discern his brother’s whispers. “You had us pack all this stuff in case it was needed right?! Well it’s needed, so help me out!” Ford flinched from a fresh gust of wind, feeling the chill seep through his clothes. The scientist turned and began to help Stan without another word.
_____________________________________

--Six hours, eighteen minutes after landfall--

The wind outside the tent thrashed and threw snow with dizzying speed, resulting in a white out. Stan and Ford decided to share a single tent in an attempt to conserve heat. From his sleeping bag Stan turned toward his brother who was upright with his nose buried in a book. “Not gonna take the chance to rest at all?” Stan questioned.

“Storms of this intensity with quick onset usually don’t last long. Before we know it we will be back on our feet. Better to stay alert for when that happens.”

“Even though you’ve gotten no sleep the past three nights and have been running off of coffee?” Stan critiqued. Ford broke eye contact with his book to turn toward his brother.

“Then why don’t you rest for the both of us?” Ford deflected.

“We both know that's not how it works, we tried all the time when we were kids. No special twin powers for us.” Stan lamented. “So stop being so anxious, put down your book, and rest a bit before we find whatevers makin’ this anomaly - it’s not good for your body to ignore its needs.”

“Cause you’re famously known for listening.” Ford said beneath his breath. Unfortunately, it was still a bit too loud to go unheard. Stan rose from the ground with a puff of his chest.

“What’s the big idea?”

“Pardon?” Ford said.

“I’m just trying to look out for you! I get it, you’re nervous, but the past few days have been miserable with your attitude.” Ford winced with agitation. “It’s the last leg of the journey and you’ve got butterflies, that’s normal, but you’ve got to rest Ford. We’re two old farts in the middle of the Arctic and I wasn’t kidding about being worried that you’ll collapse.”

“I spent thirty years on the run across the multiverse Stanley, I assure you I can handle this.”

“Well you’re not on the run anymore!” Stan snapped. “You’re here, on Earth, with your brother, who I’ll remind you you invited. So lay off the space marine shtick and take a damn nap.” Ford closed his book with frustration.

“Fine! But I’m setting an alarm for thirty minutes so I can check on the weather.”

“That’s fine!” Stan replied before laying down and turning over in his sleeping bag. “Goodnight.” Stan said decisively. Ford laid down, and turned in the opposite direction.

“Goodnight.” The scientist said curtly. As the wind outside howled Ford’s eyes remained open, his mind racing with too many questions and not enough answers.

Chapter Text

Nine hours, fifty six minutes after landfall

“The signal is growing in strength.” Ford announced.

“Is that good or bad?” Stan questioned.

“We won’t know until we are closer, but it would be wise to stay alert.” Ford said whilst checking his laser gun for the fifteenth time. Stan followed suit and equipped his reliable knuckle dusters, gritting through the contact of the cold metal and his skin. With the storm behind them the brothers continued their journey north-north west and were closing in on the source of the anomaly. Stanford’s wrist mounted tracker beeped at an ever-increasing volume as tension grew inside both men’s bones.

“We’ve arrived.” Ford said abruptly. The duo scanned the area and, on all sides, found nothing but snowy wasteland.

“Uh, ya sure about that?” Stan asked. Ford got down on one knee and pushed away the topmost layer of snow. A faint glow trickled from underneath the ice.

“Whatever it is, it’s beneath us.” Ford surmised as he withdrew his gun. Adjusting the rotary dial of his gun Ford took aim and fired. Ice and snow sublimated into vapor from the gun's heat, tunneling a hole about a foot deep. Stark, white light filtered from the opening.

“Woah, hey, we don’t know what it is and you’re shooting at it?” Stan said, surprised. Ford reloaded and shot once, twice, three times in rapid succession. Stan frowned at his brother's lack of communication, watching as more light was uncovered. Ford holstered his gun and swore as his glasses fogged up, taking a moment to wipe them with his sleeve. Stan drew closer and the pair at last gazed upon the source of the anomaly. “A hexagon?” Stan said, confused. Looking toward his brother Stan noticed Ford’s trembling right hand. Instinctively, Stan took the hand into his own. Reflexively, Ford squeezed his twin’s hand. “Ford?” Stan said concernedly. Ford strung a series of garbled noises together, which only succeeded in worrying Stan more. “Ford, hey, what’s wrong? Do you recognize this?”

“.he por…” Ford muttered.

“We’re back to English but speak up.” Stan urged.

“The portal. It looks like the portal.” Ford muttered darkly. Stan reexamined the glowing hexagon seemingly etched into the ground. The old man tilted his head left then right.

“Eh, I mean yeah it’s glowing but it’s way too small to be the portal from your basement.” Ford fiddled with his tracker, plugging in variables and running an analysis of some kind. After a series of beeps color drained from the scientist's face.

“These readings…Is it Euclidean in origin?”

“And we’re back to not speaking English.” Stan ribbed.

“Euclydia, also known as the second dimension. It’s where Bill came from.” Ford explained. Stan took hold of his brother's shoulders and turned his body so that their eyes were locked.

“The triangle?” Stan asked. Ford nodded once before attempting to look back down at the hexagon. Stan gripped his brother’s chin and held it firm. “Listen, Ford, Bill is gone. His mind is destroyed and his body is rotting in the Oregon wilderness.”

“Yes, right.” Ford said hesitantly.

“Good” Stan said as if that had settled things. “Now tell me more about this Chlamydia place.” Ford failed to stifle a small laugh at his brother’s humor. The scientist adjusted his glasses before explaining.

“Bill came from the second dimension, a home he called Euclydia. I don’t know much about his time there as he avoided the topic, but it was destroyed eons ago, long before our own solar system formed. In his own words he was the only survivor of a catastrophe that wiped out his world. It was years later during my travels that I learned Bill had instigated the calamity himself.”

“So, what's this hexagon got to do with that?”

“Bill clung to the last fragments of his world and used them as a key component in constructing our portal. A quick analysis confirms that this is a gateway with a similar matrix to the portal Bill had me design. So, while you’re accurate in noting the discrepancies in shape and size, this hexagon has some connection to the portal Bill used to cross into this world.”

“Does it tell you where it goes?” Stan asked.

“Only that it’s nowhere I’ve already been.”

“OK. So, do you wanna go first?”

“What?”

“Well, I’m assumin’ that if it's a portal we gotta go through it yeah? Find out what's on the other side and all.”

“Stanley, this is a portal to another dimension! Do you recall what happened when I fell through a portal? I went missing for thirty years!” Ford shouted, his voice echoing across the empty expanse of ice and snow.

“Yeah, but your portal was unstable and conked out. Besides, we traveled the multiverse to get Mabel back and nothing went wrong.”

“That was a multidimensional rift, a tear in the fabric of spacetime. Without outside intervention such an opening doesn’t close, but portals? Portals, even when stable, are often one-way tickets. If we step through this, we run the risk of not returning for another thirty years!”

“Think we can live past a hundred in the multiverse?” Stan mused.

“Possibly, depending on where we land, but that's just it! The factors at play are too enumerable without careful research to determine what we’re dealing with.”

“So what now? We post up around a portal in the middle of nowhere so you can just research it for a few years?”

“Perhaps not a few years, but at least a few days. The portal is outputting-” Ford fell forward in the snow. The series of events that followed were a blur; Stan supporting him, grabbing his attention with words, feeding him water, laying him on a sleeping bag, and Stan hastily putting up their shared tent.

_____________________________________

Thirteen hours, six minutes after landfall

When his senses returned Ford lay in the dark, his head woozy and thoughts swimming. Remembering the panic on his brother’s face, the scientist reached around in the dark. “Stanley? Stanley!” Ford shouted as he found the tent’s zipper and yanked it open. It was pitch black with a stark light emanating from the hexagonal portal several feet ahead. Stan stood in silhouette beside the gateway, motionless. “Stanley, I think I passed out from-”

“You were exhausted.” Stan interjected. “I told you to get some sleep earlier.” Bitter wind raked across Ford’s exposed skin.

“I’m…I’m sorry. Stan, come to bed, we’ll deal with the portal tomorrow after-” Ford’s ears perked to the sound of snow being disturbed. “Stanley?” Stan took another step closer to the portal, lurching forward. Ford pushed onto his feet in a mad sprint. “Stan, wait! You don’t know what’s on the other side!” Ford reached his brother, grabbed his shoulder and attempted to yank him back. Despite the adrenaline, the scientist failed to move his twin even an inch. Stan turned to his brother and Ford’s blood ran cold. Stan seized the opportunity to grab his twin in a bear hug before falling into the portal. The hexagon’s light consumed both twins and winked out of existence.

Chapter Text

Zpeallu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford regained consciousness on the cold hard ground. After pushing onto his knees, the scientist’s vision began to focus. The landscape was blanketed white with towering green conifers disrupting the monotony. Snow fell nonstop and uniform with no breeze to alter its downward trajectory. Ford rose to his feet and dusted the snow from his chest, noticing a change to his wardrobe; his winter gear had been replaced by a black jumpsuit whose only feature was a maroon spiral on the center of his chest. Surprisingly, he still retained his brown boots and signature trench coat, with trusty sidearm tucked within. “I don’t remember asking for a costume change.” Ford muttered to himself. “How am I warm in material this thin?” In a flash of memory Ford recalled falling into the portal with Stan. “Stanley!” He exclaimed, turning left right and behind. A few feet away Ford noticed an incline in the terrain, piecing together that he’d woken in a ditch. The scientist dashed up the hill but found himself with further questions.

Dozens upon dozens of cars lined a road, so densely packed that he would have to squeeze between them. Every vehicle was damaged, as if they’d collided in the world's worst pile up. Adjusting his glasses Ford noticed a single cable overhead running to a distant telephone pole. Past the pole the road seemed to dip and disappear. Putting aside the strangeness of the situation Ford climbed onto the nearest vehicle and took a deep breath. “Stanley!” Ford’s voice echoed across the undisturbed winter wilderness. Failing to get a response, the scientist brought a hand to his chin and began to strategize. “I’m in an unknown location after falling through an interdimensional portal. My brother, possibly the only other human, is nowhere to be found. My clothing has changed, likely due to the properties of wherever I now find myself. I can only assume this world is safe to inhabit in the short term, but long-term effects remain to be seen. There is a road ahead of me, and a road behind me, lined with vehicles lacking license plates or other identifying features. Wait a minute.” Ford focused on one vehicle that in fact did possess a license plate, a plate that read. “The Stanmobile!”

Ford bounded from car to car, avoiding the ground like it was lava. After landing atop the red sedan Ford peaked inside and found his brother hunched over the steering wheel. Ford dropped to the ground, disturbing the four inches of accumulation before opening the driver side door. “Stanley?” Ford shook his brother, worried when he failed to get a response. Looking over his twin he noticed the same black bodysuit, spiral and all, except Stan wore a red hooded jacket. “He’s breathing…” After a moment's hesitation Ford pulled back Stan’s glasses and raised his eyelid. “Thank goodness.” He muttered to himself. Suddenly, the scraping of metal rang out from amidst the car graveyard. Ford instinctively withdrew his laser pistol and pointed it down the road. “Who goes there?” Ford scanned left and right but found no origin for the sound. Slowly, the scientist closed the car door to his sleeping brother. “Stay here, Stan.”

Ford aimed his gun forward and weaved through the maze of cars. Ford methodically moved between cover, throwing an occasional look back at a knocked out Stan. When another long scraping sound rang out three cars over Ford burst into a sprint towards the source. Somersaulting into position he raised his gun and found nothing but his breath in the cold air. Everything was silent. Ford questioned his senses, questioned if there was anything out here besides him and Stan. The answer arrived when a cold sensation gripped the back of his neck. Ford tumbled and turned, aiming his gun at what appeared to be a three-armed man of snow. The creature, featureless, appeared more like the childish outline of a human body with an extra limb. One of these outstretched arms had grasped the back of Ford’s neck, leaving the tingly sensation of static. “What are you?” Ford asked. The creature gave no response, giving Ford more time to scrutinize its body; somewhere between four and five feet tall, lacking features outside of arms, legs, hands, feet, and a head. Scraping metal caused Ford to jump and turn back toward the Stanmobile, where two other SnowMen attempted to force entry. “Stan!”

Ford couldn’t retrace his steps due to the SnowMan, so he pulled himself atop the adjacent car. The SnowMan lumbered after the scientist, whiffing an attempt to grab his leg. Ford calculated the number of cars between him and the Stanmobile at fifteen. The scientist dashed, hopping to cars with extended steps. The two SnowMen accosting the Stanmobile couldn’t seem to understand how it worked, fruitlessly grasping at the glass and door. Ford raised his gun, aimed, and fired two shots. His hits landed and the SnowMen retreated behind nearby cars. Ford landed atop the Stanmobile, reloaded, and scanned the area. “They appear unwilling or unable to communicate but do shy away from pain. I hate having to shoot first and ask questions later, but…” Ford rubbed the back of his neck where the tingling remained. “Their touch does something, I just don’t know what.” The SnowMan who originally touched Ford lumbered between cars, approaching slowly. “Can you understand me?!” Ford shouted. No response came. “We mean you no harm, but we will defend ourselves!” The threat failed to slow the creature. “Fine, have it your way!” Ford shot two blasts which crackled as they sailed through the air. An electrical hiss rang out as the salvo dispersed upon contact. Ford watched as the three-armed creature lost two of its arms, leaving it with one. This SnowMan, more tenacious than its brethren, transitioned from a lumber to a run. Taken aback, Ford tracked the creature best he could as it bobbed between cars for cover. “Smarter than you look…” Ford whispered. However, as the creature drew near, and its options, dwindled Ford anticipated and shot where the SnowMan would run. The laser crackled upon making contact and the SnowMan’s final arm dissolved. It was then that the creature fell flat onto the ground and assimilated with the snowfall.

Ford lowered his gun and caught his breath. Unfortunately, the silence was short lived as a telephone ring cut through the wilderness. Ford turned frantically, locating a payphone on the nearby telephone pole. Cautiously, the scientist descended from atop the car and approached the payphone. Ford considered the ramifications and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello?” A voice responded, meek and young sounding. “Oh my, I can’t believe somebody picked up.”

“Who is this?”

“I’m Axel. Are you on the mountain?”

“I suppose so.”

“Can you see my cabin?”

“No, not immediately.”

“Oh.” The voice said dejectedly.

“How are you calling a payphone?” Ford continued.

“Uh, well, the phone in my cabin can only call the other phones in the valley.”

“This is a valley?”

“Yeah, a valley in the mountains. Are you lost?”

“I believe that to be a strong possibility.”

“I’m also lost. Or rather, I was. I made it to the cabin; I just can’t get out on my own.”

“Get out? So, you’re not from here?”

“No. No one is from here.”

“Then, why are you here?” Ford scrutinized.

“It’s my punishment.” The meek voice replied.

“Punishment? For what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Huh?”

“What’s wrong?”

“The phone is telling me I only have ten seconds left.”

“Why would a phone call have a time limit?”

“I don’t know! But you have to get to the cabin, if you do we can leave!”

“But where is your cabin? And what are these creatures made of-”

“Argh! If you have more questions, then find another pho-” The call dropped. Ford hung up and picked up the phone, finding no dial tone. The scientist looked up at the phone line running alongside the road off into the horizon. The Stanmobile door popped open, and Stan groggily climbed to his feet.

“Ford? Where are we?” Ford failed to answer.

Chapter Text

Aopyaf-mpcl tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

“Ford? Where are we?” Stan asked again. Ford adjusted his glasses before taking a deep breath.

“That remains to be seen. Stanley, what do you remember before waking up?” Stan stretched his back and a handful of vertebrae popped.

“Ugh, I slept at a fucked-up angle.”

“Before that.”

“Before what? You ran some tests on the portal, and I fell asleep in the tent.” Ford bit his lip. “So, tell me Poindexter, what happened?” Ford turned to his brother and approached.

“The portal rapidly expanded, swallowing our campsite. It was after I’d turned in for the night, so I failed to respond quickly.”

“So, this place is what was on the other side?” Stan said whilst looking across the car graveyard.

“Yes. I woke up in a ditch just over there.” Ford pointed. “Whereas you awoke within the Stanmobile.”

“Whaddya say?” Stan said in a surprised tone. Ford pointed at the license plate of the vehicle Stan had exited. Upon reading it himself Stan’s face flashed from joy to frustration. “What kinda smoke and mirrors is this?”

“Pardon?”

“This ain’t my car! Sure, it's a red El Diablo with the plates, but it's got none of the character of my girl back home.”

“Explain further.” Ford said, his curiosity piqued.

“It doesn't take a scientist to see that this car is too new. Look, she’s barely got any dents, the rims on the wheels all match, and my hula girl is missin’ from the dash.”

“It would appear you’re right.” Ford accepted.

“But what’re all these cars doin’ here anyway? There's way too many for a road this narrow. You couldn’t toss a rock without breakin’ a windshield. In fact…” Stan combed his surroundings for a rock but found only undisturbed snow. “Damn, not a stone in sight. So bro, what’s the plan?” Ford remained silent. “You’ve got a plan, don’t you?”

“I have not been conscious for much longer than you, Stanley. I lack a plan, only observations.”

“Then lay ‘em on me. You’re the dimension expert between us, yeah?” Noting the apprehension on his brother’s face Stan approached and gave Ford a side hug. “I’m not just pokin’ fun, I mean it. You’re the expert Stanford, so I’m countin’ on you.” Ford shared a look with his brother and exhaled.

“Right.” Ford reciprocated the one-armed hug before moving to an adjacent car. Using the accumulated snow he began to write. “Considering we are still alive we can assume this dimension isn’t immediately volatile to humans. My scanners aren’t picking up dangerous levels of radiation, heavy metals, or toxic gases. Now that doesn’t mean we can take long term health impacts off the table, but we can’t worry about those at the moment.” Stan hopped onto the hood of the faux Stanmobile to continue listening. “Our bodies appear unchanged, but our wardrobes and personal effects have been altered.”

“You mean this spandex we’re in?”

“Correct. While I wasn’t wearing it when we crossed over, I retained my trench coat, alongside my boots, and gun.” Stan examined his own jacket and then dug around in its pockets.

“Looks like I’ve still got my brass knuckles, but that's it.”

“So a bodysuit, identifying clothing, and a weapon. We’ve purposefully been stripped of more mundane equipment but left with a weapon to defend ourselves.”

“You think there’s something out here with us?” Stan asked.

“I know there is. While you were asleep these SnowMen, more mannequin than Frosty, tried to break into the car where you were asleep. One managed to touch my neck and it left a fuzzy sensation that’s now faded away.” Stan’s brows knit with concern. “Don’t worry, contact was brief. Two of them fled but the third fell to my pistol, dissolving into the surrounding snow.” Stan cautiously raised his feet onto the hood of the car.

“You ever seen anything like them before?”

“At first glance I’d assume they were Elemental’s or constructs. However, the former would hide from humans while the latter can only perform routine actions. The behavior of these SnowMen wasn’t a match. It’s possible they are native to this dimension but…”

“But what?”

“Plenty of dimensions have hostile inhabitants. But I find myself lacking the conviction to declare sentience quite yet. Given the weapons we’ve been left with I am quicker to assume they are obstructions meant to hamper our progress.”

“Sounds awfully similar to that game lingo you and Dipper do.” Ford rubbed his chin.

“Game…Not a bad idea Stan. We’ll shelve it until we know more, but for now we can assume that we will be attacked again and that defending ourselves is necessary.”

“It ain’t hard to convince me to knock some skulls.”

“Quite. The last major observation is, well…For this part let's walk a bit down the road.” Ford proceeded through the maze of cars with Stan not far behind. Stan raised a question about the telephone poles, but Ford insisted he hold off asking more for just a bit longer. Soon, the brothers met the horizon and found themselves gazing across an expansive valley.

“Sweet Moses…” Stan gulped. Ford examined the valley and although he lost sight of the road he could faintly make out the telephone poles and wires dotting the landscape.

“Someone called me on the phone back there. Claimed their name to be Axel. They asked if I was on the mountain and could see their cabin.” Ford began to trace the road as it continued down into the valley. “If we presume this mountain pass continues across the whole valley then we’d end up right about…” His hand stopped on an opposing mountain where a bright blue light shone through the green treetops. “There.”

“They called you on a payphone?” Stan questioned.

“I had the same response. Our call was cut short, but they said if we found another phone we could contact them again.”

“So, follow the poles, find a phone, and continue the chat with this mystery person. Seems a bit sketchy.”

“Very sketchy. They implied being sent here was ‘punishment’ of some kind.”

“You’re really not sellin’ me on workin’ with this person Ford.” Stan sighed. “But, when you take a look around, our options are pretty limited. These mountains are huge so we couldn’t scale them without equipment. The only way forward is forward.”

“I have reached the same conclusion. We proceed with caution but proceed nonetheless.”

“Looks like quite a hike.”

“Indeed.”

“Gonna take awhile.”

“For certain.”

“Any chance we could hotwire one of these cars?”

“Doubtful.”

“Yeah, that’s a pipe dream.”

“On foot then?”

“My bunions say no, but since when have they given me good advice?” Ford chuckled. The brothers began their descent onto the winding road. Unbeknownst to either twin, the maroon spiral on Ford’s chest shortened slightly.

Chapter Text

Adv ovbyz mvyaf-adv tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

“I’m going in!” Stan shouted as he bobbed through the car graveyard. Ford provided covering fire with his laser pistol while his brother approached their adversaries. A pair of SnowMen, each with four arms, rushed hid among the vehicles. Stan successfully flanked his target, delivering two quick punches with his knuckle dusters. The SnowMan faltered from the recoil of losing two of its arms, allowing Ford to finish the creature with two well placed shots. The armless torso collapsed into the snow and dispersed. Stan crouched behind a car to catch his breath. “You got eyes on it?”

“Negative. I last saw it at five o’clock.” Stan peaked over the hood of the car and waited. The light snowfall was ubiquitous as it blew noiselessly on the air. Stan noticed a slight disturbance in his vision and propelled toward the camouflaged SnowMan. However, the entity was prepared as all four of its arms swung at the incoming twin. Stan ducked as the creature's mighty swing collided with an adjacent car and sent it skyward. Moments later the crash of steel resounded through the open air as the vehicle landed atop another. Stan shifted his stance, rising with an uppercut and sending the SnowMen staggering back. Ford fired three shots and landed two, blasting loose another two limbs. Stan drew back his fist and delivered the final blow to the SnowMen’s gut, causing it to crumble into a pile of snow on the ground. “Excellent work Stanley.” Ford said approvingly. Stan wound his arm to stretch it.

“Not too shabby yourself. You weren’t kidding when you said these guys would be a problem, we’ve gone maybe three miles and had just as many fights.”

“And it would appear their skill and size increase relative to the number of limbs they possess. I worry there may be no upper limit to their growth.”

“That is if they even grow. They might just be born whatever size they are.” Stan refuted.

“And that's if they are even born to begin with. Communication has continued to fail so our knowledge is limited to observation.” Ford complained.

“Well maybe the small ones just can’t speak. If they get better at fighting with size, maybe they’ll get big enough brains to talk too.”

“I’d rather not speculate that we are fighting juveniles. But your theory isn’t wholly misguided.”

“Top praise mister valedictorian.” Stan mocked. Ford laughed in response before placing a hand to his stomach. “Wassamatta? You hungry?”

“No, I’m not. And that's the problem.”

“You’re worried about your appetite now?”

“I’m often quite aware of my appetite, but preoccupation keeps me from acting on it. No, this is different - like I’m lacking hunger at all.”

“Explain?”

“Our sleep was disrupted but we’d made it through most of the night before entering this dimension. It’s been roughly two hours and in that time we’ve exerted ourselves in multiple fights. And yet, despite it being well past our normal breakfast time, neither of us have complained about hunger.”

“Can’t we just chock that up to the adrenaline? Can’t think about bein’ hungry when you’re stuck scrappin’ in the woods.”

“I suppose, but I still have this…building…sense of…fatigue.” Ford’s words petered out. The scientist took a knee in the snow and Stan rushed to his side. “Sorry, I took a bit too long to reach my point. I’m not hungry but I’m exhausted, far more than I should be.”

“You wanna take five off the road in the ditch?”

“No, I’m on the verge of sleep.” Ford muttered. Stan looked around in a panic, setting his eyes on one of the more intact vehicles. Shouldering his twin's weight, Stan guided Ford to the car and placed him in the passenger seat. Ford laid his head back against the cool leather interior, his eyes fluttering with sleep. “Stan?”

“I’m right here.” Stan said, entering on the driver's side. “You don’t think this is hypothermia, do you?”

“No…Maybe…Perhaps?” Ford replied, just above a whisper. Stan popped open the glove compartment, pulled loose the cassette player and fiddled with the interior wiring of the car. Ford’s eyes were too heavy to accurately assess what his brother was doing. However, when a warm breeze blew against his chilled body the scientist perked up. “How did you get the heat going?”

“Ya pick up a few tricks when your car is your home for years. Besides, I can feel it happening to me too. I’ll probably be out like a light in ten minutes.” Stan said, as he reached across Ford to manually lock the car doors. “There, now we’re sealed in. Let’s hope those snow guys stay gone for a while.” Ford smiled at his brother as darkness consumed the sides of his vision. “Goodnight Ford.”

“Goodnight…” Was all Ford could manage as he dozed off.

_____________________________________

Lpnoa ovbyz adluaf-zpe tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford slowly blinked awake. The scientist was cozy inside the heated car. Ford examined his surroundings; a thin layer of snow had developed on the car obscuring the outside, Stan was asleep in the driver’s seat, and according to his watch roughly six hours had passed. The scientist felt a crick in his back and reclined the passenger chair. Ford managed to sit in silence for about fifteen minutes, with nothing but the subtle breathing of his twin to keep him company. Stan shifted before his eyes snapped awake and scanned the surroundings before landing on Ford.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning.” Ford replied.

“Toasty in here.” Stan said lazily.

“Better than frosty.”

“Agreed. How long were we out?”

“Six hours, give or take.”

“Yeesh. Maybe you were onto something. I’m refreshed but somethin’s off.”

“Do tell.”

“Whenever I wake up I gotta take a piss, no questions. But I didn’t have to earlier, and I don’t have to now. It’s like my bladder finally gave out, which…” Stan allowed the thought to linger.

“I suspect our body’s needs have been altered by this dimension. Connecting a lack of food to a lack of waste production is one thing, but our bodies still must subsist off something.”

“Our fainting spell?”

“I hypothesize that to be the case. Two hours of activity for six hours of rest.”

“Not the worst tradeoff, I suppose.”

“It means we can’t afford to stray too far from shelter. These bodysuits may be insulating but they probably won’t protect us from prolonged exposure.”

“You got a timer on that swiss army watch of yours?”

“Of course, and message received.” Ford said before setting an alarm for two hours. Stan ran his hand along the car window.

“Can’t see a thing. We’ll have to hope nothings waiting out there.”

“And if it is, we’ll take it down.” Ford announced. Stan smiled, affixing his knuckle dusters. The twins counted to three before springing out either side of their vehicle. The road was quiet. With no threat to meet them the brothers exchanged a glance and closed their car doors.

“Thanks for the pitstop.” Stan said to the car, running his hand along the roof. At Ford’s beckoning the two continued along the road to the valley below.

Chapter Text

Adluaf-aoyll ovbyz zlcluallu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

The twins had at last arrived at the bottom of the mountain road. Their reward? “It just keeps going.” Stan complained as he stared into the distance. Ford adjusted his glasses and confirmed his brother’s estimation.

“It would appear so but consider that most of our journey so far has been downward. Traversing this valley should bring us to the foot of that mountain.” Ford pointed, tracing his finger up to the blue light emanating from amidst the forest canopy. “Where an ascent inevitably awaits us to the cabin.”

“Aren’t there supposed to be payphones on the way? We haven’t spotted one yet to continue chatting up your imaginary friend.”

“Axel is not imaginary, nor are they a hallucination. Unless crossing into this dimension has incurred rapid onset psychosis, I definitely spoke to someone over the phone.”

“Fine, fine. But my point stands. How long until we run into another phone?” The twins’ conversation was interrupted by the emergence of a shiny black payphone on the distant telephone pole.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” Ford declared. The older brother dashed between cars towards the phone, leaving Stan in the dust.

“I wish mister action hero tripped over himself.” Stan said in an annoyed whisper. When Ford’s approach went uninterrupted Stan folded his arms. “Guess not.” He remarked before giving chase. Stan caught up with his brother as Ford fiddled with the dial pad to little success. “What’s the trouble now o’ brother of mine?”

“Axel called the previous phone, but they have no way of knowing we are here. I realized that I failed to ask for their number. I’ve begun the process of narrowing down possible numbers starting with one one one, one one one, one one one one.”

“Are you nuts?! You can’t just dial every number combination until one goes through…Wait, does it even have a dial tone?” Stan said as he examined the phone.

“No, but the previous phone lacked a dial tone as well.” Stan stared at his brother bewildered. “Look, how would you recommend I narrow down our options?” Stan thought to himself for a moment before answering.

“Try three one one?”

“Why that combination in particular?”

“It’s like a question hotline. You’re supposed to call it before calling nine one one in the case of emergencies.”

“Fascinating, was this instituted while I was away?”

“Some point in the nineties yeah. I think cops got tired of telling people where their local post office was. How are you supposed to slack on the public's dime when you’re answerin’ phones?” Ford chuckled before dialing three one one onto the payphone.

“It’s ringing!” Ford shouted.

“Hey, put the phone between us so we can both hear.” Stan suggested. Ford obliged and the two listened intently.

“Hello?” A meek voice answered at the other end.

“Axel! It’s good to hear you again.” Ford replied before sticking his tongue out at his doubtful brother. Stan stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

“Who is this?”

“Ah, I failed to provide my name last time. My name is-”

“Stanton Pinefield!” Stan interjected. “And this is his brother Stetson Pinefield, pleasure to meet you disembodied voice.”

“There are two of you?!” Axel screeched across the phone causing both twins to recoil. Ford looked at his brother with confusion, providing Stan with the time to respond.

“Yeah, I was in a bit of a pickle last time you spoke to my brother. But we’ve been travelin’ along the road just like you told him.”

“Indeed. We’ve reached the foot of the mountain and entered the valley proper.” Ford supplied.

“Oh my, you’ve already made it so far! This is the best news I’ve had in years.” The twins exchanged a glance.

“Years?” Ford clarified.

“Yeah, my own fault really, I got lost for a long time at one point.”

“You got lost on a straight road?” Stan asked insensitively. Ford elbowed his brother before Axel continued.

“The forest can be very confusing.”

“Right. Axel, I’m plagued by endless curiosities, but I’m keenly aware that our time is limited. You referred to this place as ‘punishment’, could you elaborate on what you meant by that?” Axel failed to respond. When the silence overstayed its welcome Ford reiterated. “Axel, what kind of punishment is this?”

“It’s a trial. Overcome it and your crimes are forgiven.” Annoyed at the lack of context Ford switched gears.

“And these SnowMen, are they the obstacles for this trial?”

“One of them.”

“I presume time management is the other?”

“You should’ve fallen asleep at least once by now, yeah?” Axel questioned.

“We have, twice actually.” Ford answered. “And I theorize our biological needs have largely been reduced to sleep. Can you confirm?”

“Yes, there is no food here.”

“There goes grabbin’ a burger at the nearby diner.” Stan joked.

“Anything else you want to know?” Axel probed.

“You mentioned being unable to leave on your own, why is that?” Ford continued. Once more Axel remained quiet. However, a separate, deeper voice spoke over the phone.

“Ten seconds remaining.”

“Who was that?” Stan asked quietly.

“Axel, we’re running out of time!” Ford said, raising his voice. “Axel? Axe-” Ford’s sentence was cut short as he was ripped away from the phone.

“Stanton!” Stan screamed. The younger twin spun around, equipping his knuckle dusters. The perpetrator was a SnowMan, heads and shoulders taller than any the pair had come across so far. Ford was gripped in three spots and raised nearly six feet off the ground by the nine-foot tall, seven-armed behemoth. Stan watched his immobilized twin take ragged breaths as frost spread from where the monster held him. The maroon spiral on Ford’s chest shortened and Stan filled with dread, followed by anger. “Drop my brother, you snow globe reject!” He declared, dashing away from the silent hanging payphone.

Chapter Text

Adluaf-aoyll ovbyz adluaf-upul tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Stan made a beeline for his target, kicking up snow with the force of each footfall. Bolstered by the momentum of his dash he reeled back his left arm and landed a corkscrew punch on the SnowMan’s gut. The hulking brute recoiled as it lost one of its seven arms but kept a firm grip on Ford. Stan attempted to follow up with a right hook but was swiped away by two of the SnowMan’s arms. The old man was briefly airborne before slamming into one of the hundreds of totaled cars. Stan expelled the air from his lungs due to the impact and collapsed to the ground. Ford gazed down at his brother.

“S-Stanley…” The scientist shivered. Ford attempted to reach for his gun, but the creature's grip restricted his movement. Desperate, he began to kick at the creature with his free leg to no results, failing to cross whatever threshold constituted ‘damaging enough’. However, with its hostage wriggling about, the SnowMan was distracted long enough for Stan to climb back to his feet. Watching his brother struggle caused Stan’s anger to bubble, propelling him back into the fray. Unfortunately, the SnowMan retaliated by bringing three fists into the ground and kicking up enough snow that a cloud of it obscured Stan’s vision.

“Ford! Ford, where are you?!” Stan called out.

“S-S-S-tanley, lo-o-o-ok out!” Ford rasped. Stan pivoted and brought his guard up in time to take the brunt of a punch from the crafty SnowMan. Stan clasped his hands and crashed them down onto the brute’s arm with enough force to destroy it. The SnowMan backed off at the loss of another arm, allowing the cloud of snow to disperse.

“Drop him now, or I’ll tear you limb from limb!” Stan roared. The creature turned its head to Ford, watching as the maroon spiral on his jumpsuit grew shorter and shorter. Enraged, Stan used a nearby car as a launching pad and grabbed a hold of one of the SnowMen’s two remaining free arms. The behemoth immediately thrashed its arm to throw Stan off, but the old man wrapped his arms and legs around the appendage. The SnowMen raised its arm overhead, turning Stan upside down several feet in the air. The old man clung to life so dearly he inadvertently popped the beast's arm, weakening his target while sending himself crashing to the ground. Reflexes kicked in and Stan oriented himself toward the SnowMan’s head with both fists extended. Stan crashed fists first into the SnowMan’s featureless head, sending the brute buckling over with a thunderous boom. Stan ungracefully slammed onto the hood of a nearby car, marginally reducing the height he’d fallen from. “Even on an empty stomach I almost lost my lunch.” Stan groaned. The younger twin rose to attention as he heard the weak coughing of his brother. “Stanford?!” Ford laid face down a few feet away from the SnowMan, who had lost another arm from Stan’s meteoric strike. Hastened to his feet Stan sprinted to his brother and turned Ford over. “Fuck, that can’t be good.” Stan remarked, noting how the spiral on Ford’s chest had shrunk to a third of its length.

“Stanley?” Ford whispered.

“I’ve gotchu Sixer, don’t talk.”

“Little…time…”

“What?”

“Little time…before sleep…”

“No, no, no, we can’t get narcoleptic yet.” Stan complained, finding the rules of this world suddenly inconvenient. The SnowMan stirred, pushing off the ground with its remaining three arms. Stan sprang to his feet and wobbled, feeling the exhaustion begin to set in. “I can’t do all that again, I’m pooped.” Feeling a prod from behind Stan turned to Ford tremblingly handing off his laser gun

“Take it…” Ford asserted. Stan grabbed the pistol and took aim at the nine-foot-tall giant.

“Chew on this wise guy!” Stan shouted as he unloaded the rest of Ford’s ammunition in a volley. Nine shots fired and seven struck their target, causing the SnowMan’s remaining three arms to deteriorate. As the armless, mannequin-like humanoid collapsed onto its knees Stan inched closer with the pistol raised. Slowly, the SnowMan rejoined its surroundings and sank into the snow. Stan felt the fatigue as his hands struggled to keep the gun raised.

“Cold.” Stan’s blood went cold. “Still, cold.” The elderly man lowered the gun, staring into the featureless face of the shrinking SnowMan.

“You can talk?”

“Cold…cold…cold…” The SnowMan repeated, each utterance growing more desperate. Stan stumbled away from the creature as its shoulders disappeared into the ground. “So cold.” Were the SnowMan’s final words as its head vanished amidst the surrounding snow. Stan sat in silence, staring at the spot where the SnowMan last existed, before Ford’s coughing caused him to jolt. The man struggled to his feet and limped toward the nearest car, propping open its right rear door.

“It’s OK Sixer, I gotcha.” Stan said whilst sluggishly dragging his brother toward the car. The younger twin failed twice to lift his brother into the car but succeeded the third time. Stan slid onto the floor as the invisible timer tracking his consciousness dwindled. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He cursed again and again as he dragged himself around to the other side of the car. Stan gripped the car door from the ground and opened it just enough to crawl inside. After reaching for the front and locking the doors Stan settled beside his twin in the back seat. “Doors’ll keep stuff out…But I don’t have time to get the heat goin’.” Stan lamented his inability to do more as darkness crept into the corners of his vision. Turning to his brother Stan listened to Ford’s labored breathing with increasing worry. With the last of his strength Stan slung an arm around Ford and pulled him close, huddling for warmth as sleep took hold. Within moments the car was covered in snow, indistinguishable from the hundreds that neighbored it, leaving none the wiser to the brothers sheltering within.

Chapter Text

Stan was startled awake by the sound of a ringing phone. After checking that the car doors were locked, he searched inside of his car for the source. “Where the fuck is it.” He muttered with a sandpaper tongue and chapped lips. The phone rang louder this time. Stan turned his attention outside the car and onto the street. Under one of the bright streetlights was a payphone, somehow ringing. Against his better judgement the man grabbed his baseball bat and exited the car. As he approached the road Stan felt the freshly fallen snow soaking through the soles of his boots. The phone rang even louder, drawing the man across the street. Stan scanned the surrounding shadows and found no one lying in wait. Afterward, he picked up the phone.

“Stanley?” Stan didn’t respond. “Stanley, I know you’re there.” The voice continued.

“That’s a good impression of my voice. Who is this?”

“It is you. It’s been what, seven, maybe eight years? Have you forgotten you have a twin brother?” Stan’s anxiety mutated into white hot rage.

“Listen creep, I don’t know who you work for, or how you tapped this line, but I’ll give you one warning to never try this crap again.”

“I know you’ve called me.” The voice said with confidence.

“I don’t know what…you’re talking about.” Stan choked out.

“You’ve called me twice, Stanley. I’ve picked up both times.”

“That’s not true I-”

“I didn’t know who it was the first time; you hung up very quickly. But the second time? You were crying, weren’t you Stanley?” Stan began to tremble. “It was on our birthday. That got me thinking; who would call me while crying and hang up?” Stan remained quiet from increasing panic. “I’m not mad, Stanley. But, if what I say is true, then you know what I sound like. ‘Hello! Stanford Pines speaking’. I say that to everyone who calls; sound familiar?”

“Stanford…” Stan said quietly.

“Yes.”

“How, how did you-”

“I’m a smart man, brother.”

“But that doesn’t make-” Stan quieted as Ford began to cry on the other end of the line. “H-Hey, are you cryin’?”

“I’m a failure Stanley.”

“W-what?”

“It’s been years, and I’ve got nothing to show for it.”

“Hold on.” Stan pleaded.

“Dads dead. Moms in the hospital-”

“Moms in the hospital?!” Stan cut in.

“But you’re my brother.” Ford continued. “I couldn’t do this without telling you.”

“Do what?”

“Tonight, I’m doing it tonight.”

“What?! What are you doing, Ford?” Stan cried out as the anxiety within him swelled.

“I’m walking into the lake, and I’m not coming out.” Stan dropped the baseball bat and gripped the phone with both hands.

“Stop! Stanford, I don’t get what's going on but I-”

“You never do. You never know what’s going on.”

“W-what?”

“All these years apart and you’re not man enough to do anything better than crank call me?”

“I didn’t know what to say I-”

“There you go again not knowing. What do you know, Stanley?” Ford prodded. Stan failed to respond as the cold bit at his heels, the hunger clawed at his stomach, and the dehydration strained his throat. “Well know this. This is the last time you’ll ever hear from me. Don’t you ever call this number again.” Ford declared. Stan could hear rushing water on the other end of the line.

“Ford.” Stan pleaded. The water churned more intensely. “Ford?” Ford inhaled. “Ford, stop it.” Stan begged. The sound of splashing let Stan know his brother had entered the water. “Ford, pick up.” The splashing intensified. “Ford, get out the water.” The splashing grew more chaotic. “Ford!” Stan screamed with tears running down his face. The splashing stopped. Stan listened closely, hearing the rhythmic push and pull of the shoreline. The line cut. Stan looked desperately at the payphone. After several minutes Stan hung the phone up. Several minutes later he turned and crossed the street. After re-entering his car Stan locked the doors and looked into the rear-view mirror. For several minutes he took in his disheveled visage; ragged clothes, red eyes, and tear-stained cheeks. Stan broke the rear-view mirror with his right hand, spraying shards of glass throughout the interior of his car.

_____________________________________

Adluaf-upul ovbyz mpmallu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Stan woke up next to his crying brother in the back seat of a crashed car. Ford reached and wiped the tears from his brother's cheek, alerting Stan that he’d been crying in his sleep. “Huh, musta been a nightmare.” Stan offered.

“I’m sorry he did that to you.” Ford replied.

“Whaddya mean?”

“Bill. He called you while possessing me.” Stan sniffled and rubbed away his tears.

“Wait, how did you know-”

“I dreamt about it too. Stanley, I’m so sorry. Forgive my foolishness.” Ford entreated his brother. “Forgive me for the pain I’ve yet to even consider having caused you all those years.” Stan pulled his brother into a tight hug. Ford cried into Stan’s shoulder and Stan reciprocated.

Outside the car the snow fell softly upon the telephone pole and dangling payphone.

Chapter Text

Aopyaf ovbyz aoyll tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford grabbed and raised the payphone to his ear. “Axel? Hello? Nothing.” The scientist dialed three-one-one but received a message from the previously unidentified, deep voice.

“Phone line exhausted.”

“Fascinating.” Ford said to himself before hanging up.

“So?” Stan questioned.

“Seems Axel was correct, one call per phone.”

“Now what?”

“We carry on to the next phone.” Ford said plainly. Stan screwed his face with worry.

“But your spiral thingy…” Stan said, motioning to the maroon spiral on Ford’s chest. Prior to sleeping the spiral had withered considerably, and although it had lengthened with rest it remained shorter than Stan’s. “Didn’t you say that's like your ‘health bar’ or whatever?”

“That is my current hypothesis, yes.”

“Well, usually when those things hit zero you die. That’s how it works in that dice game we play with the kids, yeah?”

“Correct, and I hear your concern Stanley, but we can’t delay the mission. Reaching the next phone gets us more information from our contact.” Stan seemed displeased with this rationale. “Look, I have full motor function throughout my body. The numbness I’d felt from that SnowMan’s grasp has evanesced. I can walk, and I can defend myself. You needn’t worry.”

“Who says I’m worried?” Stan bluffed. “Fine, we can keep going - but let's keep our eyes peeled for any more of those big fellas.”

“Affirmative.” Ford shot back.

_____________________________________

Aopyaf-upul ovbyz mvyaf-adv tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford shot into a group of five SnowMen, dissolving one and striking two others. The scientist positioned behind an adjacent car and shouted for his brother. “Stanley! How’re you holding up?” Stan punched his way through three SnowMen, leaving them to dissolve in his wake.

“A little hairy, but nothing I can’t hand-” Three SnowMen threw themselves at the older man, successfully dogpiling him.

“Stanley!” Ford shouted. The older twin fired warning shots amidst his opposing contingent and then dashed to his brother's side. Ford punted the topmost SnowMan away before unloading into the remaining two. The SnowMen dissolved and Stan shivered underneath. Ford noticed the shrinking spiral on his brother’s chest. “Get in a car Stan, leave the rest to me.” Ford turned and shot an approaching SnowMan point blank. Stan pulled himself to his feet and rolled his shoulders.

“Not a chance, let’s wrap this up quick.” Ford nodded and provided covering fire to his charging brother.

_____________________________________

Mvyaf-lpnoa ovbyz zlclu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford awoke before Stan in their newest mobile refuge. He turned to his brother and parted the folds of his jacket to look at the maroon spiral. “Excellent, barely a dent.” Ford said with relief. The scientist examined his own spiral, deducing it had returned to its original state. “And I’m back to full, so to speak.” Ford knew he had about ten minutes before Stan woke up, so he cautiously opened the car door to scout their surroundings. Spotting nothing, Ford exited the car and quietly shut the door. With a fresh layer of snow, the evidence of their previous melee was buried, leaving no visible footprints or scorch marks. Ford scanned the area and walked a loop about twenty feet from the car. “All’s quiet on the northern front.” Ford said to himself. After inching back to the car Ford rejoined his brother just as Stan began to stir. “Morning.”

“Mornin’.” Stan replied groggily.

“You’ve slept off most of the damage from our last fight. Ready to keep trekking?”

“To tell you the truth, I’d prefer breakfast before gettin’ a move on again.”

“Has your appetite returned?”

“No, well, yes. I’m not hungry, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss the taste of some good grub.”

“Ah. I’d enjoy the company of some jellybeans myself, if for nothing else than the stimulation.”

“Did you ever smoke?” Stan asked suddenly.

“No, why?”

“Seems like the sort’ve thing you’d do before switchin’ over to candy.”

“I’ve always been wary of the health detriments of nicotine. Sugar, even when processed, is less harmful.”

“Tell that to granola moms.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“I am already older, Stanley”

“That you are! So, let's get a move on before you turn to dust on me, geezer.” Stan punched his brother in the shoulder and exited the car before Ford could retaliate. Ford grimaced then grinned, chasing after his fleeing twin down the road.

_____________________________________

Mvyaf-upul ovbyz mpmaf-zpe tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Stan and Ford spied the next payphone on the horizon. “There it is!” Ford announced. As he prepared to sprint Stan dashed ahead of his brother and raised his hands.

“Listen, Ford, um.”

“What is it, Stan?”

“I don’t trust this Axel person.”

“Why not? So far, they’re the only other sentient person in this dimension.”

“Yeah, and they’re apparently imprisoned here for punishment.”

“I’ll remind you that we are imprisoned here as well.”

“We got sucked up by some portal, it sounds like they were put here on purpose. But by who? For what?”

“We can ask these questions once we get to the phone.”

“I’m just sayin’, we should take whatever they say with a grain of salt. You mind if I take the lead on questions this time?”

“What? Why?” Ford snapped.

"Not for nothin’ bro but keepin’ it brief isn’t really your speed, and we got little out of them last time. Just gimme a chance to work my magic.“ Ford furrowed his brow, prepared to argue, before acquiescing with a nod.

“Fine, I can admit to being long winded. You take the lead.”

“Thanks. Let’s see if we can get some answers.”

Chapter Text

Mvyaf-upul ovbyz mpmaf-upul tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Stan picked up the phone and spoke into it. “Hello?”

“Three-one-one” Ford said curtly.

“Right, we figured that out last time. Three…one…one…Ah, now it's ringing.” Ford crossed his arms and stood beside his brother impatiently as the phone rang.

“Hello?” Came the familiar, meek voice from the other end of the line.

“Long time no talk, it’s me, Stetson, brother of Stanton, the two bozos trapped with you here in no man's land. How’re you doin’ this fine, eh, evening?” Stan said in a questioning tone as he examined the sky blanketed in dark grey.

“I’m fine.” Axel responded.

“Fantastic. Now, I apologize about hangin’ up last time. Some wise guys decided to take a cheap shot at my brother who then needed a bit of rescuing.”

“Is Stanton OK?”

“Oh yeah, I got him back, no biggie. But more importantly, I wanted to pick up where we left off. See, Stanton was asking why you couldn’t leave this place by yourself, remember that?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Then, hows about an answer?” Axel’s silence failed to bolster hope in the twins. “Hey, I get it, you’ve been trapped here for years - we’re just lookin’ for clarity ‘bout the situation.”

“There’s a door, but it requires two people to operate.”

“And where’s this door?”

“Here, in the cabin at the end of the road.”

“Makes sense why you’re holed up there. And the door brings you home?”

“Yes, back to your home dimension.”

“Now when you say, ‘home dimension’, is there a reason you can’t be more specific?”

“I was being general since multiple dimensions use this place as a dumping ground. But the guidance is the same, ‘reach the end and home awaits.’”

“Hmm hmm, hmm hmm.” Stan nodded. “Hey Axel, gimme just one moment here with my brother.” He asked before cupping a hand over the phone's transmitter. “This soundin’ Kosher to you?”

“A multidimensional prison…I’ve encountered such places in the past but none with an open-air concept such as this. What’s most surprising is that the way out appears to be a multidimensional gateway, those are incredibly difficult to construct.” Stan held the phone back to his ear and mouth.

“So, there’s a gateway in the cabin, yeah?”

“Correct.”

“And it needs two people to operate.”

“Well between the three of us that shouldn’t be an issue.” Axel offered no response, so Stan used the opportunity to pivot the conversation. “So, what are you in for anyway?”

“Stan!” Ford squeaked out at a volume one would consider barely meeting the definition of a whisper.

“Oh, right, how rude of me to ask without offering our story first. Ya see my brother and I got into some trafficking trouble, moving through intergalactic zones without the proper permits. One rigged trial later and boom, we’re here. Kinda overkill if you know what I mean.”

“What are you doing?!” Ford whispered whilst reaching for the phone. Stan pushed his twin away with a firm hand to the face.

“Odd, your brother didn’t appear to know anything about this place despite you being sentenced like me.” Axel questioned.

“That’s my fault, I headbutted the guy while we were having the situation explained. Tried to get one last hit in on the guy ya know? I’d do it again, but it meant they pushed us through without another word.” Ford reversed his brother's grip, but Stan kept a firm grasp of the phone. The sound of giggling from the other end of the line caused the twins to cease their fighting.

“I understand. Believe it or not you’re not the first to have gotten incomplete instructions. The day of my sentencing my court appointed translator had fallen ill. The last-minute substitute they provided was horrible at describing the conditions of this world to me, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was his first day on the job.”

“Go on.” Stan coaxed.

“After coming through I dawdled in the woods, afraid of the SnowMen, and ended up lost for weeks before coming across other prisoners.”

“I hope they were friendly.”

“They were, but our time together was short. An attack split us into two groups, mine made it back to the highway, but I never saw anybody from the other group again.” The twins exchanged a glance and Axel continued after a pause. “The SnowMen are dangerous; they’ll rob you of all vitality as you succumb to the cold. That's why I don’t leave this cabin, I can’t risk getting cornered, not when I’m this close.”

“Seems reasonable, if a bit lonely.” Stan remarked.

“Yes.” Axel said wistfully. Ford quietly asked for the phone and Stan, after a moment's consideration, passed it to his brother.

“Hello? Axel? This is-”

“Ten seconds remaining.” The deep voice said over the phone.

“What?!” Ford said, incredulous. “Axel, do you have any way of knowing how far we are from our destination?”

“I can’t say for certain; I don’t remember how many phones are on the path.”

“Darn. OK, well-” Ford felt the wind move as Stan lunged from the payphone and shattered a SnowMan in one punch. The scientist turned to face a horde of one-armed SnowMen, easily two dozen, who managed to sneak up on the duo. The call dropped as Ford withdrew his gun and provided Stan cover.

Chapter Text

Zpeaf-mpcl ovbyz aopyaf-aoyll tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Having successfully fought off the swarm of SnowMen the twins left the previous payphone behind and continued their journey. In the two sleeps since the fight any damage they’d incurred had healed. Things were quiet, too quiet. The next payphone appeared to be nowhere in sight, their surroundings remained monotonous, and not a single SnowMan launched an attack. That is why the high alert twins noticed a SnowMan, standing at the edge of the forest, from afar and promptly armed themselves.

“Ya know, I was hoping we’d never see one again.” Stan complained.

“It appears to have not noticed us yet, let us keep our guards up.” Ford offered. The twins proceeded down the highway with caution, eyeing the three-armed beast. Despite their best efforts at stealth the creature tilted its featureless head in their direction. Ford seized the initiative, blasting two rounds into the SnowMan and watching as two of its limbs disintegrated. Stan positioned himself between Ford and the creature, assuming it would rush his brother now that it had been disturbed. But no such bulldoze came. The SnowMan lazily readjusted its body, staring eyelessly at the set of twins from off the road.

“Odd.” Ford commented.

“Super odd.” Stan added. The duo waited patiently, examining their surroundings in the event the SnowMan had any buddies lying in wait, but no backup arrived. After a five-minute deadlock Ford shot and finished off the creature. The SnowMan’s body collapsed into an adjacent snowbank before assimilating into it. Ford holstered his gun and scratched his chin curiously.

“It didn’t fight back at all.”

“Maybe they finally realized we’re the top of the food chain around here.”

“But then why not flee?”

“Maybe they’re too dumb to be afraid, like cows.”

“I can assure you cows experience fear.”

“Well, whatever the reason, it’s gone so let's keep going.” Ford nodded, and together with his brother continued along the highway.

_____________________________________

Zlcluaf-aoyll ovbyz lslclu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

While navigating the desolate highway the twins spotted a duo of SnowMen off the road. Ford withdrew his gun but hesitated to fire.

“What’s wrong?” Stan questioned.

“If they aren’t going to engage then I feel no desire to destroy them.” Ford declared before holstering his gun. Stan kept his knuckle dusters attached but lowered his guard.

“Fine. Let’s see if they just let us pass.” The duo disregarded the snowy brutes, confidently striding down the road. After passing the SnowMen the twins resumed speaking with Stan piping up. “Ya know, I think I prefer them tryna fight us. It’s creepier when they don’t move and just…stare.” Ford nodded in agreement with his brother. Suddenly, a cool sensation slammed into the back of each twin. Whatever hit them was small and disintegrated on contact. Ford spun around whilst Stan investigated their surroundings. “Did…did they throw snowballs at us?” Stan said, bewildered. Ford squinted toward the motionless SnowMen before noticing his spiral health bar shrink.

“I think-” Ford began to speak but was interrupted by a snowball aimed squarely at his head. The scientist was knocked off balance and Stan watched his brother’s health bar shrink even more. Both twins now noticed the SnowMen’s raised arms and lack of fists. Slowly, the SnowMen’s fists reformed before firing off like missiles. Now vigilant, the brothers dodged and took cover behind one of the many cars. “As I was saying, I think so.” Ford said, unamused. Stan gauged the distance between him and his enemies.

“Alright, I’m gonna move in and stop ‘em from firin’. You stay back and-” Ford placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, interrupting him.

“I don’t think so Stan, they’re off the road by the woods.”

“So?”

“Axel got lost in the woods for months, maybe even years. I’m wary of approaching them unless absolutely necessary.”

“So, what am I supposed to do? I can’t exactly feed ‘em a knuckle sandwich from this far away.” Stan complained as snowballs continued to rain against the side and roof of the vehicle they sheltered behind.

“I’m…Wondering if that’s the point.”

“You think these balooka’s are smart enough to come up with somethin’ that sophisticated?”

“It would indicate a capacity for the SnowMen to adapt and act as tougher roadblocks on our quest to the cabin. If it’s a long-range battle they want, then I will oblige.” Ford said whilst reloading his gun. “Sit tight Stan and let me handle this.” Stan folded his arms and followed his brother's directive. One firefight later and the SnowMen lie on the ground, dispersing into their surroundings. Ford put away his gun and gave Stan the thumbs up.

“Nice job sharpshooter.”

“Anytime good citizen, but the name’s Six-Shooter!” Ford said while striking a heroic pose.

“No, no it’s not.” Stan replied flatly. Ford elbowed his brother before the two shared a laugh. “Jokes aside, I wish I coulda done more.” Stan lamented.

“I don’t mind giving you some downtime every now and then. Let’s hope these snowball variants are uncommon.” Stan smiled at that.

_____________________________________

Lpnoaf ovbyz adluaf-upul tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Stan frowned as a rain of snowballs pinned the brothers in the tight space between two cars. On either side of the road SnowMen were lined up, flanking the twins as they showed no quarter. Ford took a potshot when he could, but it was a battle of attrition that had already raged for twenty minutes. Wiping the sweat from his brow Ford looked at his frustrated twin.

“Let’s hope they’re uncommon.” Stan said in a mocking tone as he parroted Ford’s earlier words.

“Oh, can it.” Ford grimaced.

Chapter Text

Lpnoaf ovbyz aopyaf-mvby tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

The clock was ticking as Ford single-handedly attempted to fight off two groups of SnowMen. The beasts lobbed a nigh continuous flurry of snowballs, leaving the scientist with slim windows to retaliate.

“Don’t you have another gun?” Stan asked in an impatient tone.

“No! What good would it do me to withhold extra firepower in a situation such as this?” Ford shot back. Stan’s distraction allowed for a snowball to rocket into Ford’s skull, causing the man to collapse and his health bar to dwindle. “Fuck!” The older twin uncharacteristically swore.

“Shit, shit, sorry I-” Stan attempted to apologize, shifting enough that a snowball beaned him in the shoulder. “Hey! Can’t you give us five seconds?!” Stan shouted. The SnowMen ignored the cantankerous old man, continuing their assault. “Cowards…” Stan grumbled with frustration. Ford examined the maroon spiral on his chest and failed to contain the worry in his voice when he spoke.

“We don’t have time for this”

“No duh.”

“No, Stanley, I mean we’re almost out of time.”

“How soo-ooh fuck.” Stan swore. “How long?”

“If I had to guess? Seven minutes.”

“Then let’s just get in a car and say screw it to fighting these guys.”

“There is no guarantee the SnowMen will keep their distance after we fall asleep. If they don’t, they’ll break into the car in a matter of seconds.” Ford seized a brief window to fire back at their adversaries, taking out two of the smaller SnowMen. Stan wracked his brain before settling on an idea. Feeling along the edge of the car Stan located and forced open the fuel door. He quickly popped off the gas cap and brought his nose to the opening.

“What are you doing?” Ford questioned.

“Stanford, we never tried to drive these things cause they’re clearly too banged up and scrunched together. We never checked if they had fuel.” Stan wafted the not-so-subtle smell of gasoline toward Ford. “We’re sittin’ in the center of a minefield.” Ford ducked a snowball and retaliated, knocking one of the SnowMen from a tree.

“If you’re working towards a plan Stanley, get to it!”

“Jeez, no sense of drama. Alright, alright. Listen up.”

_____________________________________

The SnowMen had continued their assault with intermittent returning fire. Despite Ford’s efforts to thin their ranks, over a dozen still threatened either flank of the road. One of the SnowMen closer to the ground noticed movement toward the edge of the road. It ceased firing, assessing whether one of the brothers had moved. When no further signs of movement presented themselves, it rejoined in the assault. On the opposite side of the road this exact circumstance would play out with another SnowMan; a shadow of movement, a brief pause, a failure to find a target, and a resumption of attack. Ford could feel his limbs growing heavier as it took more effort to lift and fire his pistol. The brothers likely had less than three minutes until sleep took hold of them, and the SnowMen moved in to claim their quarry. Thankfully Stan slouched beside Ford and signaled a thumbs up to his brother, who nodded in return. Ford ducked behind cover and took aim, using all of the car doors Stan had opened to eye his target. Far near the edge of the road, a fuel door had been opened with its gas cap unscrewed. Ford pulled the trigger. A massive explosion rang out across the valley, disrupting snow from trees with its force. The SnowMen ceased their attack, reflexively pulling away from the car now engulfed in flame. Ford adjusted his aim and fired again, causing another car to ignite. One by one Ford caused a total of eight cars to go up in flames. Using this fiery ring as a distraction the brothers crawled along the ground, unseen by the few SnowMen who chose not to flee.

_____________________________________

Stan carried an unconscious Ford in a piggyback. The younger twin had always been granted a couple extra minutes of consciousness since waking up in this strange dimension. They hadn’t traveled far, but Stan could feel an encroaching darkness in the corners of his vision - at any moment he could pass out. Weakly, the old man opened the nearest car door and laid his brother in the backseat. Stan turned from the direction he’d lumbered, eyeing the blaze they’d created out of desperation. The orange and yellow embers burned especially bright against the wintery landscape. Closing the back door Stan lurched toward the front of the car in the hopes of hot wiring the heat in his last seconds of consciousness. Suddenly, a snowball struck Stan in the side. Despite its meager size the chill imparted by the snowball was all consuming as Stan sunk to one knee and then collapsed. The man gasped for breath and his heart rate spiked from fear. Stan struggled to lift his head as he looked in the direction where the snowball had flown, the direction he’d just moments ago been looking. A black, bubbling mass stood silhouetted by the inferno. A SnowMan, slowly disintegrating from the heat, had tracked the brothers and struck Stan from afar. It shambled forward, occasionally using a car for support as pieces of its body sloughed off. Stan, weakened and cornered, withdrew his knuckle dusters. He managed to secure the weapon to his left hand, but between his hands trembling, his darkening vision, and his frantic heart he dropped the right duster onto the ground. The SnowMan was less than a yard away when Stan’s vision went black.

_____________________________________

Lpnoaf-zpe ovbyz mvyaf-zlclu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford woke up with a jolt. He found himself staring at the roof of a car and breathed a sigh of relief. “Good job Stanley, your plan helped us get away.” Ford noticed his visible breath as he spoke. The car was cold. “Bad luck having to resort to one with a broken heater, eh? Still, better than the alternative.” Ford wasn’t surprised when Stan failed to respond as he often slept for an extra ten or so minutes. No, what caused Ford to bolt upright was the lack of any snoring. “Stan?” Ford looked at the empty front of the car and his heart sank. Bursting from the car with his gun drawn, Ford scanned the surroundings. The fire that the pair had started had died away, smothered by the ever-falling snow. However, the accumulated snow failed to cover a glint of gold just inches from the car. Ford retrieved one of Stan’s knuckle dusters from the ground. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!” Ford panicked as he looked toward the forest’s edge. “Stanley! Stanley!” He shouted repeatedly to no response. Ford spun around and spotted a nearby payphone. The scientist dashed, grabbing a hold of and dialing three-one-one on the dial pad. “C’mon, c’mon pick up…”

“Hello?” Axel answered.

“Axel, my brother is missing! I awoke in a car, so he must have stowed me in it before falling asleep. Before I passed out, we had just managed to slip away from a group of SnowMen…One or more must have followed us, or he stumbled upon another while carrying me.” Ford rattled off. “Where do the SnowMen take you? What do they want with us?”

“Warmth.”

“What?”

“They want your warmth. Stanton. They sap it with touch. If they took your brother, then it’s too-”

“Bite your tongue!” Ford shouted over the line. “Don’t you dare tell me it’s too late.” Ford pleaded with the familiar stranger.

“They’d have dragged him into the woods. It’s much bigger out there than you think Stanton. Leave the road, and you may never return. It’s best if you stay the course.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It takes two to leave - we can leave.”

“No.” Ford said definitively.

“No?”

“I’m not the kind to leave my brother behind.” Ford recalled the memory of Stanley driving away from home the night he was kicked out by their father. “Not anymore.” Ford straightened his back. “If they dragged him into the woods, then I’ll track him.”

“It’s been snowing for hours; you won’t find any traces!”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Wait, Stanton, wait!” Axel pleaded as Stanford hung up the phone. After walking back to the car Ford examined his surroundings. Upon closer inspection a handful of cars had handprints melted into them. Ford outlined the path of whatever approached his brother. “It followed us from the flames…” Ford landed at the car he’d awoken within. “And then retreated into the woods.” He deduced, following the handprints as they carried him to the edge of the highway. Ford stared out into the evergreen forest, spotting a handprint in the bark of one of a thousand trees. “Hold on Stanley.” Ford begged before descending into the ditch and crossing the forest’s edge.

Chapter Text

Lpnoaf-zpe ovbyz mpmaf-lpnoa tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford trekked through the snowy forest alone. Hundreds upon thousands of identical evergreens dotted the landscape. To prevent getting lost the scientist occasionally withdrew his gun and fired three shots into the nearest tree. Given the composition of his gun's lasers the resulting holes were unnaturally smooth, making them easily distinguishable. While the hours of snowfall had dashed any chance of there being a trail on the ground that didn’t hold true for the trees and rocks. As Ford searched, he would find molten hand or footprints every dozen or so feet. Whatever had claimed his brother could only move unassisted briefly, and in that observation Ford’s hope was secured.

The scientist moved quickly in focused silence, his eyes flitting in all directions in search of the next print. For fifteen minutes Ford rushed through the endless wood before arriving at his first obstacle, a sharp decline. At the top of the hill where he stood there was a print seared into a nearby tree. “Down we go.” Ford whispered to himself. After sitting on the ground, the scientist pushed off the hill and began to slide down it. Before picking up too much speed Ford oriented toward a tree and grabbed its trunk, coming to a stop. Judging the incline too steep to slide down in one go the man would have to descend a couple yards at a time. Ford quickly developed a rhythm as he slid along the ground moving from tree to tree. It was at this point the scientist could make out a series of broken trees near the bottom of the hill with distinct prints in multiple spots. “Strange, to think the terrain would inhibit a creature made of the same material.” Ford marked the tree he clung to and continued his descent.

After a perilous ten minutes Ford reached the bottom and examined the destruction. “If it was a melting SnowMan, then its form was likely deteriorating. SnowMen lacking arms would go limp and disperse into the surrounding snow. We’d assumed that, like us, they have a ‘health bar’ of sorts.” Ford scanned the area for more traces of Stan’s captor. A partially melted rock indicated where to go next and he followed. “Just as our suits have a spiral, the SnowMen’s indicator of healthiness seemed tied to its arm count. After sufficient damage one of a SnowMan’s arms would slough off; with the last arm gone, the SnowMan dispersed.” Ford reflexively ducked beneath some low hanging branches as he continued to march through the forest. “Axel stated that the SnowMen desire our ‘warmth’, and implied that the taking of this ‘warmth’ could lead to our…end.” It was at this point in his analysis that Ford resumed running. “Assuming this SnowMan is mortally injured, our ‘warmth’ still proves enticing enough to drag Stan off into the woods. On top of that his captor is prioritizing speed and distance over its own wellbeing. This leads me to two conclusions; one, Stan is likely being brought somewhere specific, probably a feeding ground. And two, he’s unlikely to be abandoned by the creature. Thankfully us humans are persistence hunters by nature.” Ford assured himself as he sped forward, propelled by decades of consistent cardio.

_____________________________________

Lpnoaf-lpnoa ovbyz adlscl tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford had been running for over an hour and began to slow down. The scientist could feel his limbs growing heavy and chest beating violently as fatigue set in. “Strange…I should be able to…Run for…Twice as long…” As the corners of his vision darkened Ford realized he wasn’t tired from running, he was falling asleep. The scientist panicked, looking left and right for anywhere to hunker down before sleep claimed him. “I don’t…This is…Sooner than it should be.” Ford complained as he limped toward the hollow base of a tree. The grown man squeezed himself into the dark hollow, hoping its shelter would suffice. “D-Dammit…Wait for me…Stan…ley.” He cursed as his consciousness slipped away.

_____________________________________

Ford awoke within the hollow’s darkness, temporarily concerned he’d gone blind. However, after remembering where he’d sheltered, the man extricated himself and stepped back onto the snowy forest floor. The cramped sleeping arrangement left Ford’s shoulders achy and so he spent a solid few minute’s stretching. “Very odd. Even amidst my distractions I was certain I had another ten or so minutes before my next sleep cycle. I can’t let such a mistake happen again. Now, where was the last tree…I…marked.” Ford froze with horror as he surveyed his surroundings. “Aspens? No, no, no that’s not right. I was surrounded by pines. Why did the trees-” A rustling came from behind the scientist. In the split-second Ford attempted to reach for his gun, something sharp pushed its way through the back of his skull and out the front. The scientist lost all feeling in his legs and collapsed to the ground.

_____________________________________

Upulaf ovbyz zpeallu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford jolted awake from within the hollow, rolling out into the familiar pine forest of the alternate dimension. The scientist shakily reached for his forehead as the phantom pain lingered for a disorienting length of time. “W-What was that?”

Chapter Text

Upulaf-upul ovbyz aopyaf-vul tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford continued to trek the wilderness alone. Amidst a sea of identical trees each molten mark renewed his fragile hopes of ever finding Stanley again. Stanford was a stubborn man, particularly when it came to his family, but he was also a man of logic; with each sleep cycle the fear of never reuniting with his brother grew harder to shake. And yet here he was descending steep hills, traversing frozen streams, and bouldering through rocky narrows into uncharted territories. After cresting the top of a hill Ford felt the familiar pang of fatigue in his chest. Silently, he crawled on hands and knees into a fallen, hollow tree for what little cover it could provide. As darkness crept into his vision Ford thought to himself; “There’s no doubt about it. I can’t keep track of how long I sleep, but I can keep count of how long I’m awake.” The scientist lifted his head toward the other end of the log as the wind outside howled. “Since leaving the road I have fallen asleep quicker, and quicker. Before we could reliably push on for two hours. Now?” Ford settled his head on the ground and shut his eyes. “I’m barely making it an hour and a half.” Moments later, the old man was slumbering as the snowstorm intensified.

_____________________________________

Vul Obukylk huk zpe ovbyz aopyaf-lpnoa tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford was busy searching for the next molten print when it happened; an explosion on the horizon, visible only due to the smoke it produced. Heavy black plumes rose into the sky, carrying the scent of ash for miles. Ford’s eyes narrowed with determination as he sprinted. “Please be safe, please be safe” he repeated in his head. Ford pushed himself to the limit, vaulting over roots and barreling down slopes. Slowly, the smokestack grew larger and its fumes more pungent as the old man rushed towards its source. Ford felt a stinging in his eyes from the smoke but persevered. Soon the flames came into view, engulfing three pine trees whose needles rained fiery debris onto their neighbors. Ford desperately scanned the area, looking for any signs of his brother. Ford’s eyes were attracted by the glint of something amidst the snow and his heart sank. The scientist reached down and dug out his brother’s other knuckle duster. Ford retrieved the weapon's twin from his pocket and clutched both with worsening dread. “Stanley!” Ford cried out. A flaming branch fell from overhead, forcing the old man to roll away. “Stanley, can you hear me!” Ford shouted, muffled by dancing flames and falling snow. “Stanley, if you’re hurt just shout and I’ll find-” Ford fell to one knee. The man’s heart quivered as the all too familiar fatigue set in. “No, no not now. Not…when I’m this…close.” Ford’s breathing grew ragged as he struggled back onto his feet. “Stan…ley…” Ford lazily turned left and right, cursing as his vision blurred and began to duplicate all he saw. That was when he saw it, a darkened pair of silhouettes standing unflinching about twenty yards away. “Stan?” Ford said, both a question and a plea. The scientist took one step toward the silhouettes before collapsing. Ford crashed into the ground which pushed the remaining breath out from his lungs. He looked forward as the pair of silhouettes finally approached and slowly merged into one featureless form. “My brother…Where…is…my…brother…” Ford said, begging for an answer. None would come as his consciousness slipped away.

_____________________________________

Ford awoke on the snowy floor. “Stan?” He took a breath and smelt none of the residual smoke upon the air. In fact, the air instead had an earthy, slightly bitter smell to it. “Aspen.” Ford whispered the realization. Immediately, he rolled along the floor seconds before something pierced into the earth. Ford somersaulted and rushed behind a tree for cover, withdrawing his laser gun. Not a moment later and a sharp thud signaled that something had penetrated the other side of the tree Ford sheltered behind. Seizing the opportunity to retaliate he fired three shots into the woods. A yowl followed by the pushing aside of brush let the old man know he’d scared his assailant off, at least for now. Ford reached around the tree and withdrew a crossbow bolt. After silently examining it he looked across the forest floor and found another where he’d woken up. “If I hadn’t dodged, it would have hit my heart. Whoever they are, they’re aiming to kill.” Ford moved out from behind the tree, reloading his gun with a determined look. “Last time you got the jump on me, but now? The hunter becomes the hunted.” Ford declared before darting into the woods.

Chapter Text

Ford dashed through the snowy aspen forest in pursuit of his assailant. The scientist located and ran parallel to the aggressors' footprints, confident that they were human. As he snaked through the woods, Ford noticed further differences in his new surroundings; flatter terrain, shifting cloud cover, and the occasional glimpse at stars overhead. These innocuous details were a departure from the monotonous SnowMan dimension and led Ford to conclude he was elsewhere. ‘I may be asleep, but this is no ordinary dream’, he thought to himself.

After sprinting for fifteen minutes the trees began to thin; the footprints becoming equally sparse. Ford slowed to a halt as the last set of prints led to nothing, his target appearing to vanish into thin air. Nothing, that is, except for the adjacent tree with a broken, low-hanging branch. Ford eyed the tree and found subtle peeling in the aspen’s bark where the figure likely gripped to hoist themselves higher. ‘Two can play at that game’, Ford thought. The scientist circled the tree, found another low-hanging branch, and climbed into the canopy. After climbing high enough, Ford could peek over the smaller trees in the area, scanning for any noteworthy landmarks. Far on the horizon a smattering of lights marked the limits of a town or small city. However, much closer, the blinking of a faint, red light signaled a satellite tower far too small for commercial use. Ford narrowed his eyes and quietly descended the tree.

_____________________________________

Ford arrived at the satellite tower and found a cabin next to it. The windows were boarded, the inside was dark, and barbed wire ringed the premise just below the snow. With the little light provided by the moon and stars, Ford analyzed the best means of approach. When suddenly, a crossbow bolt zipped by the scientist's face and left a cut across his cheek. Ford ducked behind a tree as the hunch which had carried him here was confirmed. Inside this cabin was his attacker. Ford loaded his gun and waited for another bolt to fly. Silence hung in the air, coaxing Ford to go on the offensive. He moved between cover, inching closer to where the treeline ended. As he moved, he calculated the arc of the previous bolt and determined that the mysterious figure was likely on the top floor. Ford reached the forest’s edge, ducked out of cover and fired. Two shots broke the upstairs window, raining glass on the roof and porch below. Ford seized the opportunity and made a break for the patio, vaulting over the well concealed barbed wire. An errant bolt plunged into the snow behind the scientist as he ducked under the patio roof.

Ford took a breath and examined the front door with a large ‘No Trespassing’ sign. The scientist wasted no time in moving behind the cabin where a set of storm doors waited. Ford grabbed the right handle and opened the door whilst moving away from the entrance, allowing him to dodge a puff of strange gas. Ford shielded his nose and moved down the stairs. On his way down he skipped over bear traps laid out on steps three and five. At the bottom of the steps was an ordinary wooden door, while beside it was a futuristic keypad with esoteric symbols flickering across its screen. Ford took a few moments before inputting a code and watching the screen shift from blue to yellow. The basement door cracked open, and Ford entered with his gun raised.

Pushing the basement door shut he examined his surroundings; a dimly lit space used primarily for storage with various empty cages and cardboard boxes. Ford moved through the darkness and located a door on the far side. Cautiously, he opened it to an ascending staircase. Climbing the staircase Ford unlocked another door onto the main floor of the cabin. Despite the scientist's best efforts, the door creaked as it shut, likely giving away his position to the enemy within. Unshaken, Ford kept his gun aloft and continued deliberately moving through the outwardly abandoned structure. Finding another set of stairs the scientist climbed to the second floor and stopped in his tracks. In the middle of the hallway was a ladder leading into the attic. Ford gave an annoyed grunt and kicked the ladder so that it folded back up into the ceiling.

A streak of light filtered through the hallway window, and Ford noted that the sun was rising. In that split second of distraction Ford saw shadows shift down the hallway and ducked out of reflex. A bolt zipped overhead, and Ford retaliated with three shots down the dark corridor. A boom, thump, and crash later and the assailant had retreated to safety. Ford gave chase. As he turned the corner Ford barely avoided an open door and vaulted an upturned cabinet. A series of crashes followed as the figure pulled and pushed an array of furniture to break Ford’s stride. The scientist did not relent, gaining ground with each failed attempt until the figure’s silhouette came into view. Ford pounced, tackling the individual down a flight of stairs.

Ford and the stranger rose to their feet and extended their weapons to within inches of one another. Quickly, the scientist raised his free hand and grabbed the dangling light switch. Ford stared at the stranger, who stared back with bloodshot eyes.

“How are you? Who are you?” The exhausted man asked.

“You have to trust me.” Ford began.

“I trust no one!” The younger Ford rebuffed. Ford swallowed his shame before replying.

“I know. Trust is earned. Let me lower my gun and show you I speak the truth.”

“No, stay right there. Or don’t. How did he replicate my appearance? Who are you puppeting Cipher?!” Ford chose not to respond as he lowered his weapon to the ground. The younger Ford panicked. “Stop, you can’t trick me anymore. Trust no one, trust no one.” He repeated, like a mantra. Ford’s laser gun touched the ground, and he stared through the crosshairs at his younger self. “I don’t know where you got this body, or how you reshaped it, but I’m putting its owner out of their misery!” The younger Ford shouted whilst taking aim.

“Have you sent the letter yet?”

“Quiet!”

“Have you sent the letter to Stanley yet?”

“Don’t mention my brother!” The younger Ford screeched, pressing the loaded bolt into Stanford’s forehead. The front door of the cabin swung open, and a figure rushed inside. Young Ford turned and was blinded by the harsh morning sun. The intruder slugged him across the chin and sent him down with one punch. Stanford looked at his collapsed reflection before turning to the burly figure that stood before him.

“How’s that for a warm welcome?” Stanley said, offering his twin a hand. It was Stan, his Stan, dressed in the same whacky black jumpsuit. Ford jumped into his brother’s arms and squeezed. Stan smiled. “Fucked up as it is, I’d say this is better than the first go around.” Ford responded by squeezing tighter.

Chapter Text

Ford looked at his brother in disbelief. “I don’t understand. How are you here?”

“Well, I don’t quite get it myself, but I can tell you what’s been going on with me since that SnowMan dragged me off.” Stan stopped hugging Ford so he could turn the younger version of him onto his back. “I managed to get you into a car, but a SnowMan snuck up on me and got a hit in. I went down and blacked out.”

“That’s when you dropped this.” Ford interjected, handing Stan his knuckle duster. Stan admired the weapon with a smile before continuing.

“The next patch of memory is spotty; I would wake up and see the SnowMan carrying me deeper into the woods, but I would pass out moments later. I was never awake long enough to do anything. And then, I stopped waking up altogether.” Stan paused and pointed at the front door of the cabin. Ford stood in the sunlit doorway and saw the Stanmobile rammed into a snowbank on the front lawn.

“You drove here?” Ford questioned.

“Yeah, but I was stuck in some kind of nightmare loop.” Stan explained. “It was thirty years ago and I was back in my car, driving to see you before everything with the portal went down. The problem? No matter how fast I drove I couldn’t get here. One second I was taking an exit for Arizona and then I was in California. Road signs were garbled, landmarks were incorrect, and my map changed every time I looked at it. But I couldn’t wake up, and I couldn’t shake the sense that you were in danger. So, I drove. I drove, and I cursed, and begged that you were OK. And then, it happened.”

“It?”

“A shooting star, bright as Halley's Comet, streaked across the sky outta nowhere. On a hunch, I got off the highway and drove after it. Before I knew it, I was not only in Oregon, but downtown by Greasy’s Diner. I got to the cabin, crept up to the door, heard screaming and ran inside. And, uh, I guess slugged a young version of you?”

“Yeah…” Ford trailed off.

“For what it's worth, this version of you is pretty high on my list for slugging.”

“There’s a list?” Ford scoffed.

“Oh yeah, I update it every time you do something dorky and annoying.” The twins shared a laugh. The tender moment was disrupted as Stan’s body flickered. “Did you feel that?”

“Worse, I saw it.” Stan flickered again, blinking every few seconds. “I suspect you’re waking up.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense, you’re the one who wakes up first in this place.”

“That’s true when I haven’t been run ragged and then collapsed on the forest floor amidst a field of burning trees.”

“You what?!” Stan screamed after flickering. “OK, alright, then I’ll just find you after I wake up. You said burning trees?”

“Yes, there was an explosion while I was tracking you through the woods. I found your other knuckle duster before falling asleep.”

“Then I can’t be too far away.” Stan flickered rapidly, signaling his limited time. “We just got back together, why is it always like this!” He shouted, venting his frustration. Ford placed an arm around his brother.

“You better find me before I burn to a crisp.”

“Don’t joke like that ya jerk!”

“Would I taste good toasted? Like a marshmallow?” Ford mused. Stan guffawed in response.

“Alright, alright, yeesh. Leave the comedy to me.” Stan felt his consciousness waning as the dream ended. “I’ll find you.” He managed to say before vanishing. Ford stood in the quiet cabin.

“You always do.” The scientist remarked.

_____________________________________

Vul Obukylk huk lpnoa ovbyz lslclu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Stan woke up. He was standing amidst a sea of frosted trees. A soreness could be felt throughout the man’s body as he stretched. “Ugh, it feels like I’ve been hit by a truck. Wait a sec, is that? No, Ford! I gotta find Ford first!” Stan shouted with panic. The older man rotated frantically, looking for any sign of a wildfire. Thankfully, a faint trail of black smoke lazily climbed on the horizon. Stan stretched his back, cracking multiple vertebrae, and set off for his brother.

_____________________________________

Vul Obukylk huk lpnoa ovbyz adluaf-zpe tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

The flames had become isolated to the tops of well burnt trees. Stan carefully maneuvered through the wilderness, his vision hampered by black soot and white snow. “I don’t got the right prescription for this kind of nonsense. It’s like I’m walkin’ through T.V static out here…” He complained. After calling out for Ford and receiving no response he examined the surrounding trees. “Well, the wind is blowing this way, so it would have carried the fire that way too. If I just go the opposite way, it should bring me to where this mess started.” Stan hurried, clambering ungracefully over the hidden rocks and tree roots. Then, he saw him. Ford was face down in the snow. Stan rushed to his brother's side and turned Ford over onto his back. “Stanford! Stanford, hey, I got you. You’re freezing…” Stan examined his brother’s HP spiral and grimaced. “I gotta warm you up…”

_____________________________________

Ford had disposed of his younger version's crossbow and tied him to a kitchen chair. The scientist found little fondness for this version of his long-time home. Boarded windows, barbed wire, and boobytraps around every corner. Every effort spent to keep his demons out. He recalled holding Stan at arrow point and the whole fiasco with the portal later that evening. The day that would shape the next thirty years of the twins’ lives. Suddenly, Ford felt a weird sensation in the back of his mind. The scientist raised his hands and watched them visibly flicker. With a smile he silently bid farewell to his unconscious duplicate and winked out of existence.

_____________________________________

Vul Obukylk huk lpnoa ovbyz mvyaf-adv tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Ford slowly blinked awake. He felt cramped, stuck between something rough and something soft. The scientist looked ever so slightly to his left and saw his twin, Stan, scrunched beside him. They were both inside the hollow of a tree.

“Mornin’” Stan said. Ford carefully extracted his arm from behind his back and pushed Stan’s face away.

“Good morning.” He chuckled weakly.

“Can you walk?” Stan asked.

“Yes. Probably. Although, I am very, very sore.”

“Sounds like we’re both getting too old for this.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m spry for my age.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you want a piggyback to the road or not?”

“The road? Stanley, we’re miles into the wilderness, the road is most likely hours away from-”

_____________________________________

Vul Obukylk huk lpnoa ovbyz mpmaf-lpnoa tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

After seventeen or so minutes on piggyback Stan and Ford had arrived back at the road. Ford gazed dumbfounded.

“Hours away huh?”

“What? How? When?” Ford sputtered.

“Just a guess, but seems like you made some big ol’ crescent out there in the woods tryin’ find me. When I woke up I could see the road from the forest.” Ford groaned loudly as his forehead collided with the back of Stan’s head. “Yeowch! Easy there drama queen or I will drop you!” The pair laughed as they approached the nearest intact car. Ford got into the passenger seat while Stan got into the driver’s and hotwired the heat. After about ten minutes the interior was warm and a thin layer of snow blocked vision into or out of the vehicle. They were warm, they were safe, and they were back together.

“Thank you Stanley, for finding me.”

“You were only out there because of me. Thanks for trekkin’ through hell and back after me.”

“Any day.” Ford said confidently. The brothers sunk into the plush leather seating and relaxed in well-deserved silence.

“So, uh, did you know the SnowMen could talk?”

“What?!” Ford howled.

Chapter Text

Vul Obukylk huk upul ovbyz alu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

“It was cold?” Ford asked.

“Yeah.” Stan answered unconfidently. “It just kept repeating ‘cold’ while it melted. Like it was begging me to do something about it.”

“What if it was begging? Axel said that the SnowMen want our warmth, it’s why they attack us. But why would beings composed of ice and snow feel cold? It sounds torturous.”

“Well, this place is a prison.” Stan offered.

“What’s your logic?”

“A prison doesn’t just hold criminals, it breaks them. It takes people who have fucked up and fucks ‘em up more on purpose. Cramped spaces, no privacy, routines you got no control over; the list goes on.”

“Except we’re the prisoners in your analogy, the SnowMen are more like guards.”

“What makes you so sure?” Stan questioned. Ford started to respond before growing quiet. A dark countenance spread across the scientist’s face.

“Are you implying…”

“I dunno what I’m saying, except maybe we made a lot of assumptions. What if we tried goin’ over some stuff to see if it all checks out? Like, this place is some sorta prison that lets you go if you can make it to the end. But it takes two people to operate whatever gizmo gets you out. So, you need to find a friend, another prisoner, to do the ol’ scratch my back I’ll scratch yours.”

“Fostering teamwork seems of rehabilitative benefit to the criminally inclined.”

“Sure, but that's no sweat if you show up with a partner.”

“Like you and I?”

“Exactly. Axel didn’t mention gettin’ dropped here with anyone else. They found others out in the woods after the fact. But us? We fell through the same portal and only ended up a couple hundred feet apart.”

“Our experience does indicate entering this dimension improperly through a sort of backdoor. As a pair we have a leg up against any of the other prisoners.”

“That’s the next thing - the other prisoners. All this time out here and we’ve only run into one other soul at the end of a telephone line. If we all have the same goal, and you’re supposedly told the goal before gettin’ dropped in, then where is everyone?”

“You have a point. Although, if we are to assume all other prisoners were singular individuals, any number of reasons could explain why we haven’t seen anybody.”

“But what’s the simplest reason?”

“Either there aren’t any other prisoners, or we have run into them without knowing.”

“Bingo. I think we’re dealin’ with the latter.”

“And your conclusion is that the SnowMen are the other prisoners?” Ford said. “But they don’t appear to share our goal of leaving. Every SnowMan we’ve encountered has either attacked us or dragged you off into the woods.”

“True…” Stan trailed off.

“However, I would like to further explore this line of thinking.” Ford said whilst reclining the passenger seat. “After you were dragged into the woods Axel tried to convince me not to pursue you. In their own words it’d be ‘too late’. The implication I drew from their words being that you were likely dead.”

“Yeesh. Well, I’m glad we avoided that outcome.” Stan said nervously.

“But if this dimension exists as a punishment, why use such a roundabout method for executing criminals? Why not walk them to the guillotine and be done with it?”

“Could be against the law. I mean, plenty of places can’t outright kill ya for committing crimes, but they could sentence you to prison for life. Ask the fella whose been behind bars for sixty years what's the difference between that and death.”

“Wait, you’re right. If someone were sentenced to this dimension, but failed to escape, it would be equivalent to a life sentence. The properties of this dimension already lend themselves towards low maintenance; no food, no waste, no amenities, just us and the woods. The woods…” Ford trailed off in thought.

“You onto somethin’?” Stan asked before yawning.

“Perhaps, but for now it appears as though it’s time to sleep. After waking up we’ll resume our journey.”

“It’s odd. I’d gotten used to you passing out first and having a couple minutes to myself.”

“You’ll still get those minutes when you wake up first.” Ford reasoned. Stan double checked that the car was locked before dozing off. Ford’s smile fell away as his brow furrowed. “If the SnowMen can talk, why haven’t they said anything before now? What was unique when it spoke to Stan. Axel says they sap our warmth, implying it somehow nourishes them.” Ford attempted to feel the maroon spiral emblazoned upon his black jumpsuit. “When attacked or exposed to the elements the spiral shrinks, meaning it’s tied to our ‘warmth’. I assumed they regenerated after sleeping because we healed ‘injuries’, but what if that’s wrong? We already don’t need food here, nor do we bleed, so why approach our ‘health’ with a human lens.” Ford yawned. “When I was tracking Stanley through the woods my spiral was shrinking ever so slightly. Despite arguably sleeping more often, my ‘health’ wasn’t recovering at the same rate. That’s easily explained since I was no longer resting in heated cars, but hollow logs.” Ford’s eyes fluttered as they grew heavy. “That’s…That’s it…That’s why the SnowMen seek our warmth; why Axel thought I would be too late. I believe your hunch was correct, Stan.” Ford turned his head toward the snow-covered car window. “They seek what they no longer have.”

Chapter Text

Vul Obukylk huk adluaf-aoyll ovbyz mvyaf-vul tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

It had been two sleeps since the brothers returned to the road and at last, they’d reached the foot of the mountain. A long road snaked up into the cliffside, disappearing behind the dense forest; at the end of the road, supposedly, escape awaited them. Although their time in the valley was over, one task remained before they could begin their ascent. After Ford’s eyes landed on a nearby payphone he approached and dialed three-one-one.

“Hello?” The ever-meek voice answered.

“Hello, Axel. We’ve arrived at the foot of your mountain.”

“Stanton! I was worried after our last call. Did you say we’ve?” Axel questioned.

“Correct, I found my brother and we returned to the road intact.”

“Oh. Well, that’s great! Fantastic even! Congratulations Stanton, you’re braver than me. Is Stetson OK? Is he listening in?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Stan piped up.

“You have a loyal brother Stetson. It must be nice knowing you have someone that would risk everything for you. You two make quite the pair. So, you’re at the bottom of the mountain? Then it won’t be long before you arrive at my cabin.”

“About that.” Ford spoke up. “Axel, we haven’t been honest with you.”

“How so?”

“Our names are Stanford and Stanley, and we aren’t prisoners. We fell through a portal and ended up here by happenstance.” Axel failed to respond, so Ford continued. “As we were in an unknown place with unknown threats, we hope you can forgive our dishonesty.”

“No harm done, prisoner or not we’re trapped here all the same. The only way out is the-”

“The door that takes two people to operate, yes. My brother and I wish to return home, of that we are certain. However, we are also certain that we have not singularly shouldered deceit in our dialogue.”

“Speak plainly.” Axel requested.

“You have been dishonest with us or, at least, failed to be forthright. On more than one occasion you have drawn out your responses during our time limited calls; questions have gone unanswered, often danced around.”

“Should I not be extended the same grace as you two? Dealing with strangers in a strange land?”

“Of course. But as we stand on the precipice of meeting, we feel it only appropriate that such trickery be cast aside. Starting now, let us be honest and forthright. Is that agreeable?” A disheartening pause caused Stan to interject.

“Any day now, we don’t know when this line is gonna-”

“Fine. I agree.” Axel interrupted.

“Excellent. First, are the SnowMen the other prisoners?”

“Yes.” Stan clapped his hands with satisfaction before his glee was replaced with horror.

“Why not inform us sooner?” Ford continued to press.

“No use in having you get attached to the idea of saving them. They’re dead.”

“Are their bodies encased inside the snow?”

“No, they’ve been subsumed by the snow itself.” Ford noted his brother’s confusion and clarified.

“So, it’s as if they have been digested by the snow then?”

“Correct. That’s why when you destroy a SnowMan they melt into their surroundings.”

“Are you claiming the snow acts with sentience? That the snow in these woods is an organism of some kind?”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s a spirit, or a God, or even a complicated piece of technology. Whatever it is, it claims you after sapping you of all your warmth. You go to sleep and never wake up.”

“Woah, woah pause. We’ve destroyed dozens of those things out here, are you sayin’ each of those was a person?” Stan asked.

“I don’t know. They only form to begin with if they sense the heat of something living nearby. There could be dozens, hundreds, even thousands who have perished. It’s not like there are any records for us to check.”

“So, the SnowMen are a construct that can drag off victims…If all it takes is warmth to trigger their formation, why not form on the road? We’d be easy pickings the moment we let our guard down.”

“Maybe they can’t; I can’t say. But remember this is a trial as penance, ‘reach the end and home awaits’. No point in a trial if it’s impossible to overcome.”

“Like it is right now for you.”

“I’m reliant on your help in opening the door, that has always been true.”

“But what happened to your group? How come you made it to the end, but they didn’t?” Stan asked.

“I’ve always known when to cut and run. First sign of danger, I split.”

“That simple, huh?” Stan prodded.

“Nothing glamorous about it. I’m alone, but I’m safe.”

“Ten seconds remaining.” The deep voice said over the phone.

“Satisfied?” Axel asked.

“In part. We’ll call you on the next phone.”

“There isn’t another phone.” Axel said quickly.

“I thought you couldn’t remember-”

“There is one phone at the base of the mountain. The Cabin is halfway up. See you soon.” The line cut and Ford set the phone down. The twins exchanged a glance before starting their ascent up the mountain.

_____________________________________

Vul Obukylk huk aopyaf-zlclu ovbyz aopyallu tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

In their trek up the mountain the brothers had encountered no more SnowMen. As they climbed the air grew stiller and thinner, placing more strain on their aged bodies. Despite the knowledge that they were in the last leg of their journey, progress was painfully slow. As their time awake grew short, Stan and Ford sought shelter in a car like usual. Once inside, the two chatted.

“If Axel is so sure they’re dead, why can they talk?” Stan questioned.

“It could be mimicry, an attempt to have us lower our guard.”

“The thing was dying Ford, appealing to my sympathies wasn’t gonna change that.”

“I agree with you that it’s odd. Axel says the snow subsumes you, and you become one with it, but to what degree? Are we merely food, or are we reservoirs of experience? What happens to the soul in such a circumstance?”

“Are you tellin’ me souls are real?”

“Of course, souls are real. They can be weighed using appropriate technology. Nothing we have on Earth mind you, but the results are replicable.”

“Well, where do Souls go?”

“Unclear. That is the realm of religion, a topic I’d rather not touch upon at this moment.”

“Fine by me. Hey, Ford. You really think this’ll be as easy as open a door and step out?”

“That’s my hope, but I doubt it. We weren’t sentenced here, so there’s a chance I’ll need to manually input our coordinates home. Thankfully, I’ve memorized all seventeen known coding systems for positioning across the multiverse.”

“No need to flex poindexter.” Stan yawned. “See you in a few hours.”

“Goodnight, Stanley.”

_____________________________________

Vul Obukylk huk mpmaf-vul ovbyz mvyaf-upul tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

The path had slimmed from a six-lane highway to a two-lane road. Stan and Ford walked side by side, keeping their eyes on the woods which flanked them on either side. On the horizon a large, wood and glass hexagon came into view. The brothers tilted their heads before arriving at the same conclusion; this was the front of the cabin they’d been looking for. As they quickened their pace more of the building came into view, less cabin and more lodge. Ford noted the blue glass of the windows, recalling the shine he’d noticed after arriving in this dimension. After climbing the steps and reaching the front door Stan opened it and the pair stepped through. The interior was dark, the building’s blue glass casting a watery hue across everything. Stan closed the door and Ford scanned their surroundings. On the far side of the room was a giant piece of technology that emitted a low whirring. Ford dashed across the room with Stan close behind. The control panel came into view and Ford examined it quickly, identifying the language it used. Ford looked left and right, noting two large red buttons behind glass containers. “It would seem Axel was correct; it will take two simultaneous inputs to get the portal open.”

“Speaking of which, where is the shut in?” Stan questioned. Ford made a small noise that got his brother’s attention. “What’s wrong?”

“The coordinates are already set for Earth.”

“Huh? You’re telling me they’ve been a Human this whole time?”

“Not quite.” A deep voice spoke. Stan and Ford pushed their backs together and withdrew their weapons. A scan of the lodge revealed nothing to the twins until they looked up. On the ceiling was a giant SnowMan with at least twenty something limbs. The construct was poised like a spider clinging upside down from its web. However, one distinct difference caused the Pines twins to grimace; this SnowMan had a mouth curved into a mocking smile.

“A pleasure to finally meet.” Axel uttered.

Chapter Text

Vul Obukylk huk mpmaf-vul ovbyz mpmaf-vul tpubalz, Vaoly Dvysk

Axel rotated their head independent of their body. An eerie chuckle emitted from the SnowMan’s mouth as the twins continued to stare with a mix of confusion and horror. “What’s the matter? No words for your favorite person to call?” Axel snickered.

“You’ve been a SnowMan this whole time? How? Why?!” Stan erupted.

“Mimicry…to lower our guard.” Ford repeated himself from the day prior. “You’ve been toying with us this entire time.”

“If only it were all a lie.” Axel said resentfully. “Despite my size and many arms, I cannot reach both buttons to activate the doorway. So, why not lift the glass, push the buttons, and we can all go back to Earth together.”

“Not a chance!” Ford said. The old man spun his pistol and pointed it toward the giant. “What do you have in store for Earth? What use would an alien like you have with it?”

“Oh, come now, can’t I just want to go home? A fraction of me was human at one point.”

“An Earthling…former?” Ford stammered.

“Where else did you think I got the human name ‘Axel’? How many Axels have you met among the stars Stanford Pines?”

“Cut the bullshit!” Stan shouted. “I’m already tired of that gnarly mouth of yours.”

“A shame that the SnowMen failed to absorb you.” Axel bristled. “Appealing to the ego driven mind of one of your species is tiring enough, let alone two. There’s still time if you want to walk out into the woods to lay down and die.”

“Can it!” Stan rebuked the monster.

“A fraction of you is human, what do you mean?” Ford questioned.

“Haven’t pieced it together yet? You already know that SnowMen were at one time prisoners.” Axel’s many arms splayed out across the ceiling. “Ever wondered why some SnowMen had more arms than others? I’ll save you the suspense; after a SnowMan drains you of all warmth it’s incorporated into another limb.” Stan and Ford recalled some of the larger SnowMen they’d encountered on their travels; all of whom paled in size compared to Axel. The SnowMan extended one of their arms and slowly turned its hand. “This one, my sixteenth arm.” The SnowMan spoke in a fond tone. “This was Axel, a human I’d found at the bottom of this mountain. He pleaded for mercy, begged for me to release him as the cold whittled away his life. It’s thanks to his experience that I could properly mimic human thought.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Stan argued. “Why can you speak sentences? The other SnowMan could barely say any words.”

“Hmm, the process of turning into a SnowMan usually robs one of any individual will. However, I suppose my will was stubborn enough to predominate. Even after the cold claimed me, my desire to leave this place never faltered. One by one I added others to my body, growing larger and stronger until at last I reached the cabin.” Axel dropped from the ceiling, shaking the lodge in its entirety. Stan and Ford braced against one another to remain upright. The SnowMan loomed over both brothers, easily five times their size. “But I’d made a mistake in my gluttonous consumption. I had made it to the end, but I had no one to help me open the door.” Axel’s twenty-four arms flared around their body, poised to strike. “Denied my exit I wallowed in frustration. That is, until I saw the bright flash of a new entry into the prison.” The SnowMan quickly skittered along the ground, carried like an arachnid back toward the entrance of the lodge. Above the SnowMen on the second floor were large hexagonal windows and an equally large telescope. “And what luck, they were human! All I would need to do is string them along the road and my escape would be guaranteed!” Axel shouted, sounding delirious. “So, I called you and fed you just enough information to keep you on track. And whenever you’d start asking too much…” Axel’s mouth turned downward into a frown.

“Ten seconds remaining.” Axel’s now deeper voice resounded. The SnowMan failed to contain their chuckling. Ford’s forehead knotted with anger and embarrassment. Stan meanwhile continued to glare at the behemoth.

“And after seeing how easy it was to deceive you two, why wouldn’t I want to go to Earth? I’d be a wolf among sheep.” Axel’s chatter ceased as a burst of light exploded inside their mouth. Steam wafted from between the construct’s jagged teeth as one of their arms sloughed off into a pile that quickly disintegrated. Ford reloaded his gun and took aim.

“You’ve extinguished my patience. With your treachery and malice on display I think it’s time we give you a proper burial.” Ford fired off three rounds, but Axel raised a wall of limbs to shield themselves. As their limbs parted an opportunistic Stanley had closed the distance to deliver a powerful strike to Axel’s right knee. The SnowMan buckled, losing another of their arms.

“Happy to meet you in person, but it’s time someone shut you up blabbermouth.” Axel’s mouth sank into a frown before releasing a guttural roar that shook the lodge. Stan backpedaled, narrowly dodging a swipe from three arms as Axel went on the offensive. The SnowMan swiped in slow, telegraphed motions that allowed a pugilist like Stan ample time to pivot during his retreat. “I dunno how you grabbed up so many people, my Grandma could toss a jab quicker than you!” When Axel gnashed their teeth out of frustration Stan recognized that his taunts were worthwhile. Ford lined up and fired another shot directly at Axel’s head, dropping another arm in the process. “It’s like shootin’ fish in a barrel, eh Ford?”

“Affirmative!”

“Quiet yourself!” Axel shouted, their words dripping with vitriol. The SnowMan reached across the room and took hold of two couches. “If I can’t grab you, I’ll crush you!” And the couches were thrown, one rocketing toward each twin. Ford rolled out the way of his projectile while Stan crossed his arms and was carried a few feet by the impact. Rolling onto his side the old man coughed and jumped back to his feet.

“Huh?” Stan said as he noted the shrinkage of his health spiral. The man turned and saw frost slowly spreading across the couch which had slammed into him moments ago.

“Stanley! Eyes up!” Ford shouted. Axel chuckled as they tossed a coffee table toward Stan. The conman barely dodged the furniture by dropping to the ground on his stomach. Ford fired three shots, all of whom were blocked by a wall of arms laid atop one another like a shield.

“Why make this hard gentleman? We all want to go home.” Axel questioned.

“We won’t let a homicidal maniac onto our planet!” Ford retorted.

“How noble! But let’s see if you die trying to stop me!” Axel’s limbs exploded outward, slamming against the lodge’s walls, floors, and ceiling. The structure shook violently, causing Ford to lose his balance and fall prone. A single arm slithered along the ground, ready to grasp the scientist. Thankfully, Stan had dashed and jumped, landing astride the serpentine appendage. With his fists interlocked the man brought down the hammer and caused Axel’s arm to disintegrate. From his position on the ground Ford fired another shot and it sunk into Axel’s gaping maw. Whatever pain this caused the construct it failed to stop their thrashing, forcing Stan to grab Ford and retreat. As he was carried Ford managed to land another shot as Axel’s arms were reduced to nineteen. Slipping behind a staircase the brothers collected their breath. Stan gripped his chest, gaining Ford’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” Ford asked.

“Nothin’.” Stan lied. Ford noted a twinge of frost to his brother’s breath.

“Damnnit Stanley now's not the time for posturing!”

“The couch, it musta carried somethin’, I’m gettin’ colder by the second.” Stan explained. Axel chuckled from the center of the lodge, having regained their composure.

“Is the cold eating away at you yet Stanley? My touch lingers longer than the other SnowMen, like icy venom.” The construct violently destroyed the stairwell on the opposite side of the lodge. When no humans were found they turned toward the brothers’ hiding spot.

“Can you-” Ford began to ask.

“Of course I can fight.” Stan answered preemptively. “You climb up to the second floor, give me covering fire and let’s drop this punk.” Ford clasped his brother’s shoulder and nodded. Ford rolled out from behind the staircase and fired a volley of shots. Axel paused their approach to cover their head. Ford ate through an entire round of ammunition as he climbed to the second floor of the lodge and gave Stan the opportunity to attack. The younger twin dashed out, fast as his legs could carry him. Within seconds he closed the distance and clotheslined Axel’s left leg. The SnowMan collapsed, shifting their shield and allowing one of Ford’s blasts to sneak through; two more arms down. The SnowMan retaliated by crashing four fists into the ground and tripping Stan. However, a flurry of shots from Ford forced Axel to step away from the prone man. Stan recovered, weaving back into the fray. When Axel attempted the same earth-shaking tactic Stan pushed off the ground into a long jump. Axel tried to withdraw their arms, but Stan landed a solid punch into the slower two of the four.

“Stop making this so difficult!” Axel wailed. The SnowMen sprang from the ground and clung to the ceiling well out of Stan’s reach. Ford got the construct in his crosshairs, but Axel skittered out of fire at the last second; the villain's arms carried them faster than their legs. Axel zigzagged across the ceiling and hung above Ford within moments. Three hands plunged down but the scientist managed to roll into a sprint.

“I’m comin’ up!” Stan shouted.

“No! I have a plan!” Ford countered. The scientist rounded the corner of the second-floor balcony with Axel hot on his heels. Dead ahead was the telescope the fiend had used to spy on the brothers during their journey. Ford seemingly crashed into the piece of equipment, coaxing a chuckle from the abominable SnowMan.

“Do your glasses work? Or are you falling asleep already Stanford? Huh?” The SnowMan faltered as Ford rolled over with the telescope atop his stomach. Ford lined up his gun with the eyepiece and fired. The laser pistol round bounced within the telescope, magnified, and shot out the lense like a beam. Axel shielded themselves with their arms, but the laser punched a hole clean through to their chest. The SnowMan was shot off the second floor, rolling along the ground and leaving behind six distinct piles of snow. Stan managed to evade the oncoming freight train of snow and Axel collided with the wall. Ford tossed the now destroyed telescope aside and climbed to his feet.

“How’s that for falling asleep!” Ford gloated.

“Nice one Stan-” Stan started to say before collapsing.

“Stanley!” Ford jumped from the second floor, landed in a roll, and dashed to his brother’s side. “Stanley, speak to me.” Ford noticed that Stan’s health had decreased by about half.

“Don’t worry Poindexter, look, they only got nine arms left…We’re more than halfway there.” Stan reasoned.

“As are you.” Ford shot back. “Sit this out and-”

“Don’t do that!” Stan interrupted. “Don’t baby me! Taking down this freak is gonna take us both so just let me-” Stan couldn’t finish, coughing up plumes of cold air as the spiral on his chest shortened. Ford would have continued arguing if not for the sudden tremor throughout the lodge. The scientist turned in time to see Axel lunging for them both. With their remaining nine arms Axel had blocked any route of escape.

“I’ve got you!” The beast roared. Ford attempted to raise his pistol but pressure on his back caused him to collapse in place. Stan pushed his brother down and was grabbed by one of Axel’s hands. The SnowMan immediately squeezed, and Stan’s spiral shortened to within an eighth of its normal size. The old man turned blue in the face as the air left his lungs, and the fight left his body. He dangled, raised several feet off the ground as Axel smirked with glee.

“Stanley!” Ford said, frantically.

“Put your gun down!” Axel commanded whilst squeezing Stan purple. Ford obliged, tossing the weapon to his feet. “Good. It’s much easier when you listen. Now then, the doorway?” Axel motioned toward the control panel a few feet away. Ford squeezed his fists with frustration as he walked away from his gun.

“You won’t get away with this.” Ford postured.

“I already am.” The doorway, the portal, buzzed and hummed to life. A beam of light erupted from the panel and shot into the center of the lodge where it grew and spiraled into a pane of inert cosmic dust. Axel licked their chops with anticipation. “Excellent. Now, the activation buttons.” Stan murmured something to Ford, likely some protest, but the scientist couldn’t bring himself to disobey. Ford walked a few feet away to the rightward button while Axel stood before the leftward button. Ford stared into the warm, vibrant red of the button as his mind raced. “Press it.” Axel demanded. An idea came to Ford.

“After we open the portal, drop my brother.”

“Why would I do anything else?” Axel questioned.

“Promise me.” Ford said sternly.

“Fine, fine. I promise. Now let’s hurry, your brother has precious seconds before his life is snuffed out.” Stan weakly hit the SnowMan’s hand to show his disapproval. Ford and Axel pressed their buttons. The plane of cosmic dust swirled to life and shaped itself into a twenty-foot-tall rectangular doorway of brilliant white with a cosmic outline. Axel gazed at the door and their teeth chattered excitedly. They stepped cautiously toward their escape.

“Drop him.” Ford said. Axel hesitated.

“You know, you two did quite a number on me. Assimilating your brother would get me back to an even ten arms. What if I kept him?” Axel’s smirk widened cruelly as they turned around. Ford held his gun aloft, pointed for the beast. “What good would shooting me do?”

“I’m not shooting you.” Ford declared ominously. The scientist aimed at his brother and fired. Stanley gasped as the laser collided with the section of his abdomen dangling from Axel’s grip.

“Have you gone insane?!” Axel howled. Ford shot again, and again, and again. The SnowMan laughed even louder, entertained by the erratic actions of this cornered human. However, the brute’s laughter ceased when they left the heat. Building in their hand the heat grew from uncomfortable to dangerous. Axel attempted to drop Stan, but the man dug his fingers into the SnowMan’s arm. Stanley was glowing, his black bodysuit emanating a harsh maroon glow. Color had returned to the old man's face as he radiated heat like the sun. “What’s going on?!” Axel bellowed. Stan strained himself and yanked Axel to the ground, anchoring the SnowMan to the ground.

“Point one.” Ford began. “SnowMen seek out and drain warmth. However, SnowMen can be melted by an excess of warmth. Point two.” Ford continued as he walked around the struggling SnowMan. “Our suits display warmth in the form of a maroon spiral. As the spiral shrinks, we approach death. As we recover warmth through rest, the spiral grows.” Ford shot a silo into Axel, erasing another of the SnowMan’s arms. “Point three. Lasers are light, light is energy, and energy is warmth. Theory?” Ford punctuated his word by shooting another laser into Stanley who gripped another of Axel’s flailing arms and held fast. “By shooting oneself with a laser they can briefly supercharge themselves with warmth. SnowMen would be inclined to cling tight by their nature, despite the pain.” Axel panicked, their frown deepening to the point it risks sliding off their face.

“Let me go, let me go!”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve belabored the point enough.” Ford said while aiming down the barrel of his pistol. “Axel, whoever you are, whoever you all were. Rest easy.” Ford declared before unloading shot after shot into the shrieking SnowMan. After a few painful seconds, Axel was rapidly sublimating snow on the wind. Stan fell to his knees as the diffused warmth slowly exited his body as steaming vapors. The elderly man collapsed into his brother’s hands and Ford hugged tight.

“The backup plan worked, eh?” Stan joked.

“I wish I’d stop having to shoot you.” Ford said quietly.

“Hey, it’ll only be a problem once you stop havin’ my permission.” Stan joked. “Ready to get outta here?”

“Yes, quite ready.” With Stan’s arm slung over Ford for support, the pair walked into the shimmering doorway and after passing through the portal winked out of existence. Outside the lodge the snow stopped falling.

Chapter Text

One hundred sixty-five hours, three minutes after landfall

Stan awoke on the snow-covered ground. The old man felt an ache across his entire body as he rose to his feet. “Stanford?” He mumbled. A grunt of response was provided by an equally prone Stanford. The scientist lifted his head from the floor and spat out snow.

“Stanley? Did we make it back?” Stan adjusted his glasses and spotted a collapsed tent a couple yards away; snow had accumulated on it and the weight proved too much.

“I think so…that’s our stuff.”

“Then that means…” Ford trailed off, turning around. The pair of twins found a small crater where the portal had once been, now empty. Recollection of all they’d overcome; vicious SnowMen, painful memories, and a deceitful monster, caused the brothers to reach out and hold one another. “It’s over.”

“We made it back!” Stan shouted.

“Yes, definitely, absolutely!” Ford laughed. The brothers hugged one another and felt the tension leave their bones. Together they sprang to their feet and jumped around with the joy of those forty years their junior.

“Take that awful snow dimension! You got nothin’ on the Kings of New Jersey!”

“Kings of New Jersey! Kings of New Jersey!” Ford chanted. Natural curiosity brought Ford to the edge of the crater where his eyes caught a glint of something. Stan watched his brother jump into the hole and all celebration ceased.

“Woah! What’re you doin’? Are you tryin’ get sucked back into that place?!” The crater was about six feet deep, meaning Stanford stood just below its full height. The scientist had his hands clasped around something. “Whatcha got?”

“Look.” Ford suggested before opening his hands. Stan saw a brilliant, hexagonal sapphire in his brother’s hands, roughly the size of Ford’s palm.

“That’s a huge gemstone, and it’s perfectly intact! Was it buried beneath the snow?”

“No, Stanley. Look closer.” Ford tilted the gemstone, allowing light to reflect off inky blots strewn within. “This is a fragment of Euclydia. It would appear that our use of the portal exhausted any of its remaining energy. It’s now inert and solidified into a crystalline structure.”

“Meaning?”

“We closed the portal. Look, my wristwatch is no longer indicating any presence of the anomaly we were tracking. Our first mission is a success!” Stan couldn’t help but smile at his brother's declaration.

“So, we did good?” Stan asked while offering Ford an outstretched hand. Ford grabbed a hold of his brother’s hand and was hoisted out.

“We did more than good Stanley; we tracked, identified, and neutralized a potential threat to humanity. We were incredible!” Stan smiled wider and lightly punched Ford’s shoulder. “Punching me over a compliment? Have you lost what little sense you had left?” Stan laughed before responding.

“I just ain’t used to you butterin’ me up is all. Wouldn’t be a problem if you did it more often.” Stan joked. Ford’s grin shrunk into a caring smile.

“You’re right. I couldn’t have done this without you Stanley, thank you.”

“Alright, alright I take it back! Be less earnest!” The brothers laughed. “So, uh, what do we do with the gem?”

“We’ll safeguard it for now. To my knowledge there is no force on earth capable of reactivating a shard of a destroyed dimension. For right now, it’s essentially a paperweight.”

“So, we shouldn’t pawn it off for millions as some new type of never-before-seen jewel?”

“No! Besides, this wouldn’t sell for mere millions, it would sell for billions easily.” Stan hungrily eyed the sapphire, causing Ford to pocket it quickly. “Anyway! Let’s check how long we’ve been away.” Ford deflected, looking toward his watch. “It would seem we’ve been away for roughly six and a half days.”

“That’s it? It felt way longer on the other side.”

“Agreed, but according to my own math that would seem to be the case. The shorter waking hours and lack of sunlight likely threw off our sense of time. Still, a week in another dimension is no laughing matter. We’ll need to monitor vitals for the next month to ensure there are no lingering negatives.” Stan suddenly crossed his legs.

“Gotta leak.” The old man announced before running off a couple yards. “Turn around! Don’t look!” Ford chuckled as he turned in place.

“Guess that’s evidence enough we’re back home.”

_____________________________________

Back on the Stan O’ War II Stan was busy settling onto the couch with a crisp can of Pitt Cola. The old man reclined and stretched out his legs. “Ahhhhh, never let me leave you again couch.” Ford found a durable, not cheap, plastic container for the Euclidean Sapphire and stowed it within the chest in his and Stan’s bedroom. After returning to the living room Ford sat beside his brother and scrolled through his phone.

“Only seventeen text messages from Mabel, she’s getting better at restraining herself. And three are from Dipper asking for mission updates. Think we should call the kids and give them an update?”

“Hows about we do that after dinner? I haven’t ate anything in almost seven days, I’m witherin’ over here!”

“That’s because you didn’t need to eat anything.”

“Withering…fading…heading toward the light…”

“You think you’re headed toward the light?”

“You’re right. Headed…toward…the fire…” The twins shared a laugh.

“But I agree. Let’s rest, eat, and then give the kids a call. We’ve earned our creature comforts.” Ford retrieved a barrel of jellybeans from beside the couch and downed a handful.

“Can you even taste the individual flavors when you do that?”

“Mostly.” Ford said while chewing. “All of the flavors start distinct and then swirl into an amalgam of sugar by the end. It’s quite decadent.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Stan lied. “But uh…” Stan ran his thumbs over one another contemplatively.

“Yes, Stan?”

“Since we closed the portal are we, um, done adventuring?” Ford could note a hint of sadness in his brother’s voice. Ford placed a firm hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“Not even close. The anomaly brought us north, but who knows what we’ll stumble across next. I was hoping we could sail south and loop back to New Jersey; visit Mom’s grave.” Stan frowned and then provided his brother a small smile.

“Yeah. I think it’s time we stop by.” Stan livened up after grabbing the remote. “Wanna watch some Ducktective?”

“No, but sure.” Ford japed. Stan turned on the screen and within minutes the brothers passed out, clearly relieved to be home.

Chapter Text

Stan anxiously twiddled his thumbs. “So, uh, everything lookin’ good?” Ford silently wrote notes on his clipboard. “The quiet ain’t exactly gonna make my cholesterol go down ya know.” Stan prodded. Ford looked up from the clipboard with a dire expression. “Fuck, I knew it. I picked up some kinda space disease, didn’t I? It ain’t my fault I’m behind on my shots! You try gettin’ medical care without insurance in this country.” Ford snickered, breaking his facade.

“You’re perfectly fine Stanley.”

“Then why hold out on me, jerk!”

“To be a jerk.” Ford replied. Stan reclined on his mattress and exhaled with relief. “Thank goodness. See, I knew my immune system couldn’t be beat!” Ford placed down the clipboard and sat at his desk across the room.

“With a week's worth of physicals done I’ve determined no immediate effects from our travels in Dimension 5N0W. We’ll switch to a monthly check-in assuming nothing strange pops up. In the meantime, we’ll continue to take it easy with any physical labor and eat and sleep plenty.” Ford stretched his arms out and sighed. “It’s strange to be adrift at sea again after so much time on foot in the woods.”

“I missed it.” Stan said from his prone position on the bed.

“Me too. Now then, it will take us quite some time to circle the Arctic and Eastern Canada to cross back into the United States, long enough to require a pitstop. The trouble is, I’m unfamiliar with Canada’s geography. How about you Stan, have you spent time abroad in the Great White North?”

“A course, I spent plenty of time smuggling stuff in Canada before I got banned.”

“Banned?”

“Yeah! I’m banned from the mainland. Anything that shares a border. What’d they call it…Conteguice? Contagious?”

“Contiguous.” Ford offered.

“Bingo!”

“How are we supposed to stop in Canada if we can’t touch the mainland?”

“There’s one place I know I can go for sure, Prince Edward’s Island. It’s above Nova Scotia.” Ford turned to his desk and unfurled a map of North America. He carefully examined and found the small island Stan had mentioned, measuring about as large as the state of Delaware.

“Alright, relative to our current position…We’ll need to be sparing with our food, but it’s feasible. Prince…Edward’s…Island…” Ford sounded out the name as he jotted the location into his journal. “By my calculations it will take thirteen days to reach the island. In the meantime, what should we…” Ford’s sentence trailed off as the scientist realized his brother had fallen asleep. Stan snored softly on his back, his chest rising and falling gently. Ford walked over, raised the covers over Stan’s chest, and exited the bedroom. After preparing a cup of tea Ford walked up the stairs onto the deck of the boat and sat in a folding chair. The air was cold, and snowflakes were carried on the breeze. Ford brought the steaming cup beneath his nose and inhaled the honeyed, earthy scent. Ford took a cautious sip, gauging the temperature of the tea. “Perfect.” He whispered. The scientist took a larger gulp, feeling the warmth flow down his throat and spread throughout his chest. Time slipped away as Ford indulged in his hot beverage and watched the sunset on the horizon. As the sun slowly vanished Ford extended his drink with smaller and smaller sips. Eventually, darkness blanketed his surroundings, and the stars provided pinpricks of light. The moon was new and dark as Ford took the final sip of his drink. After returning inside and depositing his mug into the sink Ford walked into the bedroom, climbed into the top bunk, and placed his glasses on the rim of his window. Comfortably, he drifted into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

After nearly two weeks of travel the brothers approached Prince Edward Island. The sea was choppy, brimming with foam, and dotted with chunks of ice. With careful maneuvering Ford steered the boat into port. Stan hopped from the ship and quickly tied the boat into place before giving Ford a thumbs up. Ford nodded his head, released the boat’s anchor, and turned it off. Ford descended the ramp onto the dock and found his brother rubbing the side of the Stan O’ War II. “Thanks for holdin’ up on us beautiful, we’ll make sure to get you fueled up.”

“Indeed. It’s my turn to get supplies, so I’ll head into town expeditiously.”

“Sounds good. I’ll take a stroll down the boardwalk and then swing by for a nap. Seeya later Sixer.”

“I’ll try not to wake you up when I return.” Ford said. The brothers exchanged waves and walked in separate directions; Ford headed into town and Stan along the boardwalk.

_____________________________________

Ford milled through a small, local supermarket. Despite having a shopping list, he couldn’t help being sidetracked by the variety of goods unseen in the states. “Ooh, are these the chocolate eggs with toys inside? I must get a few for Mabel.” Ford collected a handful of foreign treats into his basket before recalling Stan’s list. In a hurry he acquired the rest of what he’d been sent for and approached the counter. An older man with brown waves pulled into a ponytail began to tally Ford’s expenses.

“New to the area?” The man asked.

“My first time, yes. Just a pitstop.”

“On the way to Nova Scotia?”

“No, back to the states.”

“Ah, that explains the accent.” The cashier smiled.

“Is it that obvious?” Ford questioned.

“That, and the way you hovered by the Caramilk and Smarties gave it away.” Ford reflexively brought his hands behind his back.

“Ah, I see.”

“No need to be embarrassed, I’ve owned this shop for thirty years. Any new face sticks out. That’ll be forty-seven sixty-two.” Ford fished a fifty from his pocket and placed it on the counter. The cashier whistled, inciting a tick of Ford’s eye.

“Is my cash also out of the ordinary?”

“All the kids pay with cards these days. I miss having to count the change myself, so thank you for the opportunity.” Ford adjusted his glasses and waited for his change. The cashier extended his hand to Ford and patiently waited for the scientist to take his change. Ford hesitated, hoping the cashier would place his change on the counter. After a painful length of time Ford reached out for the dollars and coins.

“Thanks.”

“My name’s Owen. Yours?”

“Stanford.” Ford said curtly.

“Lovely name.”

“Thank you, Owen.”

“Anytime.” Owen said in a soft tone. “Do you need a bag?”

“No thank you!” Ford replied before hastily stuffing his groceries into the many pockets of his jacket. Now bulging with foodstuffs, the older man turned and sped out of the store.

“Safe travels.” Owen offered just as Ford crossed the threshold onto the city streets.

_____________________________________

Stan spotted a crowd in the distance and approached a nearby onlooker. “What’s the hubbub about?”

“Annual angler contest. Winner gets a coupon for a meal at the Blue Pint in town.”

“That some fancy place?”

“Issa pub. They make great burgers though.” Stan peered over the crowd and realized that most of the competition were geezers just like him.

“Yeesh, there some kinda age minimum?”

“Sixty.” The onlooker replied plainly. Stan watched a competitor reel in a minnow. “That’s a biggun.”

“That’s a biggun?!” Stan parroted with disbelief. The onlooker nodded sagely. Stan rubbed his palms at the opportunity before him. “Sounds like a cakewalk! I’ve been scroungin’ food out at sea for weeks. Make way folks, here comes a late entry!”

_____________________________________

It was sunset when Stan returned to the Stan O’ War II. Ford had been pacing in the kitchen when his brother arrived, dashing over to accost him. “It’s barely light out there Stanley and you left your phone at home! What kept you out?”

“Just winning the local fishing competition.” Stan said with pride.

“Local fishing…How’d you manage to win that?”

“Skill!” Stan lied, suppressing the memory of his poor performance and subsequent pickpocketing of the winner.

“Well…Congratulations, I suppose.”

“Yup! I got this coupon for a free meal with a plus one down at the pub. So go get changed.”

“Pardon?” Ford tensed.

“I won us a free meal, booze included! Get changed and let’s hit the town.”

“Oh no, no, no Stan I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not? Didn’t you hear me Ford, it’s free!”

“The food isn’t my concern; you know I’m not the party type.”

“Nonsense! A couple drinks and you’ll have a great time.” Stan said, brushing aside his brother’s nerves. “I’ve been assured the burgers are worth it. Don’t we deserve to celebrate after our first big mission?”

“I can’t deny that but-”

“No butts except mine cuttin’ it up on the dancefloor. The reservations in an hour so I’m gonna shower.” Stan approached Ford and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “After everything this year, you’ve earned a chance to relax a bit. Besides, if we embarrass ourselves, it’s in front of a bunch of folks we’ll likely never see again.” Stan said in his most reassuring tone. Ford breathed a heavy sigh before crossing his arms.

“Fine. I’ll tag along.” Stan pumped his fist and strode to the bathroom.

“One hour!”

“One hour.” Ford echoed. The scientist looked down at his six fingered hands and clenched them shut.

Chapter Text

Stan strutted out the bedroom in fancy attire; he was clad in a navy dress short with soft yellow floral designs, brown dress pants, matching shoes, and a large gold chain. Purposefully leaving the top buttons undone, Stan combed his unruly chest hair into a fluffy plume. “Just gonna throw on some cologne and I’ll be ready!” Stan announced. After spiritizing himself in the bathroom Stan entered the living room and found Ford on the couch in his normal red sweater. “Stanford.” Stan said plainly.

“Yes?” Ford replied.

“What are you wearing?”

“My turtleneck…is there a stain?”

“No. Why are you wearing the same turtleneck you always wear?”

“Because it’s comfortable?” Ford said, failing to convince his brother.

“Uh huh. Alright, get up.”

“Stanley I’d rather not-”

“I know for a fact you packed other clothing. C’mon, let’s go throw something together.” Ford sighed and trailed to the bedroom behind Stan. After a few frantic minutes Ford emerged from the bedroom in a sage turtleneck, black slacks, and matching laced boots. “Much better!” Ford was quiet, flexing his hands nervously. “What’s the problem? Itchy?”

“No. These clothes are tighter than the last time I wore them.” Stan chuckled.

“Really? They fit like a glove!”

“It means I’ve gained weight since returning to this dimension.”

“Is that such a surprise? You were on the lamb for thirty years scrapin’ by on who knows what out in the galaxy.”

“Mostly ration packages and supplements.” Ford shuddered.

“And now you’re back to an all-American diet full of healthy stuff, like burgers and pancakes! Of course you’d put on a few pounds, but it’s a good sign!”

“How so?” Ford asked with disbelief.

“It means you’re getting used to human food again, and you’re comfortable enough to relax instead of bein’ in fight or flight all the time. Besides, you’re still keepin’ to that workout routine every mornin’ that wakes me up. You’re doin’ great Stanford.” Ford smiled.

“Thank you, Stanley. Well, we wouldn’t wanna be late. Shall we?”

“Sure! Watch out Canada, the Kings of New Jersey are in town!” Stan announced while slinging an arm around his brother's shoulder. Ford reciprocated and laughed.

_____________________________________

The Blue Pint was located on a downtown street corner and had a large, blue, fluorescent sign. Stan and Ford walked through the front door and found a pub familiar as any other; there were pool tables in the back, a bar in the center, tables along the perimeter, and everything else was considered the dance floor. Club music blared over the speakers, requiring patrons to yell their orders to waitstaff and the bartender. Ford felt his ears ringing and froze in place, already overwhelmed. Stan grabbed his brother’s hand and guided him past the pool tables and out the back door. The twins arrived at a dock converted into outdoor seating for patrons. Stan brought Ford to a table and sat his brother in the wicker seating. “There we go, the music’s not as loud out here.” Ford nodded once as the ringing in his ears began to die down. Stan took a seat opposite his brother and within moments a waitress placed two menu’s, two napkins with silverware, and two cups of water on the table.

“I’ll be back in five minutes OK gentlemen?”

“Thanks toots.” Stan replied. Ford stayed silent but raised his glass of water in recognition. The night air carried a slight chill, but outdoor heating towers were strewn about to keep things temperate. Five minutes passed quickly, and the waitress returned with her notepad.

“Good evening again. What can I get you?”

“I’ll do the Prince’s Burger, medium well, with curly fries and a mug of beer.”
“Alright, and you sir?” The waitress said toward Ford. Ford attempted to speak but had forgotten his order. Scanning the menu in a panic he settled on something else so as not to hold things up.

“Uh, right, I’ll have the Blue Baron Burger with onion rings.”

“How would you like your burger?”

“Medium rare, please.”

“Drink?”

“Beer…Root beer!” Ford corrected himself. The waitress recorded his order patiently and smiled.

“Thank you, gentlemen, we’ll have that out real soon.” The waitress disappeared back inside the pub and Ford sunk into his seat.

“I’m starting to regret this.” Ford whispered.

“You’re doin’ just fine.” Stan reassured him. Ford’s expression failed to brighten. “But I can tell you’re feelin’ a lot, so we could just sit quietly till the food gets here.” Ford smiled a bit at that suggestion, enjoying the opportunity to take in his surroundings. Twelve minutes later and the food arrived, carried out by two waitresses on platters.

“Thank you very much ladies! And for payment I have this lovely little coupon.” Stan said as he fished the prize-winning coupon from his pocket. The waitresses scanned the coupon and clapped.

“Congrats on winning this year's competition! Not easy for an out of towner to do.” Stan fiddled with his gold chain shyly.

“You’re makin’ an old man red in the face! I was expectin’ that from the alcohol but not from you lovely gals!” The three shared a laugh as Ford began to eat his food. Stan waved farewell to the pair of women before digging into his own meal. “Hmm, the rumors were true, the grub here is great. How’s your food Ford?” Ford sunk his teeth into his second choice for dinner and nodded.

“It’s quite good.”

“Perfect.” Stan said earnestly. After about ten-ish minutes of chowing down the twins had finished their food and Stan rose from the table. “Well brother o’mine, it’s time I hit the dance floor. It calls to me like a siren.”

“Really?” Ford perked up.

“Uh, figuratively.” Stan clarified.

“Oh.” Ford slumped. Stan placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Hey uh, we finished the free meal. Did you wanna go home?”

“No, no I want you-I want to enjoy myself. Why don’t you head inside first, and I’ll be in soon after.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Just allow me a few more minutes of air.” Stan smiled at his twin and gave Ford a thumbs up.

“Well, alright. I’ll pop back out in fifteen if you haven’t come in by then. Deal?”

“Deal.” Stan opened the back door of the pub, allowing the bombastic music to spill out briefly before disappearing inside. Ford rose from his chair and walked over to the edge of the dock. The water was dark and still, reflecting the stars above. Ford had begun to trace constellations in the water when a figure moved beside him.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Ford turned and saw Owen, the shop clerk from earlier in the day. The scientist felt his throat dry up.

“H-Hi. What’re you-”

“Enjoying a night on the town; apparently just like you. Mind if we continue our little chat from earlier?” Ford brought his hands together and twiddled his thumbs.

“Suretaintly, I mean, certainly.”

Chapter Text

“So, what brings you out tonight?” Owen asked.

“My brother won a coupon.”

“Won? Oh, the angler competition. Impressive.”

“Yeah, everything’s on the house for him and a plus one. That’s me, I’m the plus one.”

“Put that together. That’s sweet of him. Are you two close?”

“We’re twins.” Ford replied in the hopes that that would be enough of an answer. Owen sipped his drink lazily.

“So, you’ve always been close?”

“Not exactly, but things are better than they’ve ever been.”

“That’s lovely. I have a pair of younger sisters. Are you the younger twin?”

“I’m older, by fifteen minutes to be precise.”

“Oh ho, I’m sure you’ve held that over his head before.” Owen correctly deduced. “It’s hard being the older sibling; greater expectations and responsibilities.” Ford fiddled with his thumbs as sour memories of his childhood surfaced. “Like my store; someone had to inherit it when Ma passed away.” Ford’s brow furrowed with confusion.

“I thought you claimed to have owned that story for thirty years.”

“That’s true.”

“But if you inherited it when your mother passed…You can’t be older than fifty.”

“Oh, you’re kind, but I’m fifty-three.” Owen interjected.

“Still! That’d mean she passed when you were twenty-three.”

“Indeed. Ma was sole owner ever since Pa left us. Ever since my baby sister Eleanor was born, she had worsening health conditions; three babies proved to be too much for her constitution.”

“I’m sorry.” Ford said.

“Thank you, but don’t feel too sorry. Ma never regretted having us, any of us, even after things between her and Pa didn’t work out. All three of us ran the store when she passed, but with time both my sisters moved on to do other things. At first, I stuck around thinking ‘I’m the eldest, I don’t got any other choice’, but that was wrong.” Owen swirled his glass and watched the rich brown liquor spiral within. “The truth is I wasn’t ready to let go.” Ford, lacking his own drink, stared out into the water. “Sorry, was that a bit too much?”

“No.” Ford replied plainly. Owen took a bigger gulp from his glass before setting it down. An awkward silence hung in the air between the two. Ford steadied himself with a deep inhale. “My mother passed away while I was out of the country, so I didn’t get to attend her funeral.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you. My brother and I are on our way to visit her grave. It will be my first time visiting.”

“Are you nervous?”

“No. Yes? It’s complicated.”

“Why would it be anything but.” Owen offered.

“I’m ashamed it has taken me this long to visit. That she’d have been disappointed in me.”

“That’s fair. Were you on good terms when she passed?”

“Yes.” Ford said, his words carrying more confidence than he housed. Owen waited for further context but realized none was forthcoming.

“Well, even if she is disappointed, most mothers have a soft spot for their sons. I’m certain she’d forgive you.” Ford tightened his fists. “So, what do you do for a living?”

“Pardon?”

“Your job? Unless you’re retired.”

“Oh, uh…” Ford brought his hands behind his back. “I’m a scientist. Research scientist.”

“Oh fun. What kind of science?”

“Zoology.” Ford replied dishonestly.

“Animals huh? I studied Physics at University.” Ford perked up and gripped the dock’s railing.

“Physics?”

“Yup. I loved space growing up and wanted to be an Astronaut. I intended to get a Master’s in Astrophysics, but Ma passed and school got put on the back burner. I still study in my free time and have a few friends at the Burke-Gaffney Observatory across in Nova Scotia.”

“Really?” Ford asked dumbly.

“Uh huh. Since I’m not certified I can’t claim it’s my job, but it’s a hobby. I’ve helped with image processing for stars as far out as Neptune.” Ford’s perception of this man radically shifted; he turned to face Owen and took in the smile lines around his mouth.

“Astrophotography and image processing are sizable tasks to refer to as ‘hobbies’. And you choose to work in your family’s convenient store?” Ford asked, baffled.

“You’re right, I always could’ve gone back, but my work life is very fulfilling at the store. Some say I’m a pillar of the community, but it’s the community that supports me. I get to see friends and family like clockwork, learn their schedules, anticipate their needs, and extend grace when the finances are tough.”

“I’m astounded.”

“How come?”

“Everything about you is so quaint, I’m just surprised by your-”

“Intelligence?” Owen interrupted.

“No! No, I never doubted your wisdom. But you speak of it all with such ease, your troubles, burdens, blessings, and triumphs.”

“Shouldn’t that be the boon of aging? To derive meaning from our experiences and let the rest wash away.”

“I suppose.” Ford rubbed his hands. “I’m not a Zoologist, or rather, it was dishonest of me to present it as such. I specialize in Cryptozoology with a focus on the paranormal and preternatural.”

“Fascinating, like fairies and specters?”

“Precisely so!”

“Would you tell me about some of your research?”

“Only if you’re interested.”

“Why else would I be talking to you?” Owen asked. Ford failed to present a counterargument.

_____________________________________

Stan exited the pub with his shirt partially undone. “I’m workin’ up a sweat in there; not like it’s hard. Hey Ford, how are you-” The man began. Looking across the dock Stan saw his brother engaged in conversation with a stranger. The pair were seated close together and had even ordered a round of drinks, evidenced by the empty glasses between them. Ford made a broad gesture and Owen laughed. Stan blinked, rubbed his eyes, and found a smile creeping onto his face. The old man turned around and re-entered the pub.

_____________________________________

“And that’s how Boyish Dan built my cabin. Ah, Stanley, has it been fifteen minutes?” Ford said to his approaching twin.

“More like forty-five.” Stan shot back. Ford brought a hand to his forehead with disbelief. Owen stood and offered a handshake to Stan.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Owen. You’re Stanford’s twin brother?” Stan gripped Owen’s hand and shook.

“That’s me. You two been gettin’ along?”

“I haven’t run off yet. Congrats on winning the fishing competition.” Stan laughed awkwardly and retracted his hand. “Your brother does bring up a good point, it’s getting late. A shame really as I didn’t want the conversation to end.”

“It doesn’t have to!” Ford blurted out. The old man reached into his pocket and retrieved a cellphone. “Do you have one of these?”

“A cellphone? No. A bit too modern for my tastes. But I do have a landline.”

“Excellent! Could I give you-” Ford’s brain slowed as he realized the fervor with which he was about to offer his phone number. “Or, uh, what I meant to say is, if you would be inclined to speak more in the-” Owen withdrew a pen from his pocket, scribbled his number on a crumpled bit of paper and placed it in Ford’s hand.

“There. Give me a call sometime?” Ford stared at the string of digits and nodded. “Good. Be strange Doctor Pines, but don’t be a stranger.” Owen collected his glasses, waved at Stan, and disappeared into the pub. Stan threw an arm around his brother and whispered.

“So, was it a good idea to come out tonight?” Ford stared down at Owen’s number.

“Certainly.”

Chapter Text

Stanley woke up and his back hurt. He climbed out of bed and walked through the halls of Stanford’s cabin. Before exiting the home Stanley put on his matted red sweater. He closed the cabin door behind him, locked it, and walked toward a red car. Stanley got into the driver’s seat and drove.

Stanley was driving on a highway a couple miles outside of Gravity Falls at the edge of the county. He began to accelerate. The speedometer crept past double the speed limit. At nearly triple the speed limit Stanley swerved off the road. For a moment the car had taken flight as it sailed through the air. The red car’s wheels continued to spin despite no longer being in contact with the ground. Stanley stared forward at the sky; it was such a vivid blue.

The car crashed into the ground and spun. Again and again, it collided with the ground. The car shook violently with each impact, jostling Stanley as the airbags failed to deploy. Glass sprayed inside the vehicle as all its windows burst. The red car had traveled about a quarter mile off the road before slamming into an old, sturdy tree. The metal screeched and bent around the immovable object. Flames erupted from under the car’s hood.

Stanley climbed out of the car as the fire spread along its frame. He stood there and stared into the growing blaze. It was after a church bell rang that he finally looked away. Stanley walked through the dense forest in the direction of the belltower.

Stanley emerged from the forest to rows of empty white folding chairs. He walked down the aisle and stopped beside an open casket. Stanley climbed into the casket and stared at the blue sky. His back hurt.

Stanley watched as day turned to night. Days passed as Stanley waited inside the casket. On the fourth day there was the sound of someone approaching; heels clicked down the aisle. Stanley watched the woman come into frame beside his casket. She was young, clad in a red dress and gold jewelry. She was crying.

“My free spirit.” Caryn mumbled as she choked back tears. Stanley watched his mother bend over the casket and cry. She cried, and cried, and cried. For three days she cried. Stanley watched the entire time.

Heavier footsteps came down the aisle. Stanley saw himself, another him in a black suit, approach the casket. The other Stanley placed an arm on his mother’s shoulder. Caryn didn’t seem to notice as she continued to wail. Stanley locked eyes with the other version of himself. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long, long time.

Only two people attended Stanley’s funeral, and he was one of them.

_____________________________________

Stan woke up. He turned toward the light filtering through his bedside blinds. Stan raised his blinds and gazed at the open ocean. He was on the Stan O’ War II, he was at sea with his brother. Ford called out to Stan from the kitchen.

“Stanley, did you open your blinds? Are you awake?” Stan rubbed the sleep and tears from his eyes.

“Awake…yeah, I’m awake!” He shouted. Stan donned his fluffy slippers and pulled himself to his feet. The old man stretched and felt a minor twinge in his back. “Heating pad.” He muttered to himself. Stan exited the bedroom and greeted his brother in the kitchen where they shared a quiet breakfast. As the heating pad warmed his back and the food warmed his belly Stan felt the lingering cloud of his nightmare lift. His back still hurt, and it always would, but over the past few months things had gotten lighter.

“Wanna give the kids a call?” Stan suggested.

“Always.” Ford replied.

Chapter Text

Stan and Ford stood before the aged white gates of Greenwood Cemetery. Grey clouds blanketed the sky and showed no signs of letting the sun’s light through. The day had made up its mind, today would be dreary. With every moment that passed standing at the threshold the step to cross over it felt harder to accomplish, as if gravity was increasing. Stan and Ford shared an uneasy glance; Mom and Dad were waiting.

_____________________________________

Several days earlier

The brothers stepped off the Stan O’ War II together and onto the docks of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. The sun was high in the sky, and the smell of seafoam clung to the air like cologne constantly reapplied by the rolling waves. Stan and Ford were silent as they took in the sight of their hometown; the cityscape consisted entirely of two-story buildings, leaving the sky unmarred as clouds lazily drifted by and provided temporary shade. Ford turned toward Stan and broke the silence. “We made it.”

“Yeah.” Stan replied with an air of wonder.

“Where did you say they were buried?”

“Oh, uh, Greenwood Cemetery.” Ford walked along the wooden pier and avoided the improperly hammered nails that jutted out on occasion. At the end of the pier was a large, weathered map with scratchings and scrawlings; ‘Asshole lives here’, ‘This guy owes me money’, ‘Harold and Darlene 4ever’ amongst more. However, under the graffiti Ford managed to find the red star labeled ‘You are here’. A few moments later and the old man had pinpointed Greenwood Cemetery about a fifteen-minute walk through town.

“Stanley, I found the cemetery, it’s not too far from - Stanley?” Ford stopped and turned, spotting his brother back by the Stan O’ War II. “Something wrong?” Stan snapped out of his stupor and shook his head. “Then come on over ya knucklehead.” Stan shook his fist whilst muttering something Ford couldn’t hear over the waves, but he did move from where he’d been rooted. It was Stan who stepped first onto the sandy beach and felt the granules part under his weight. Despite having been on a beach recently it felt as though it had been his first time in decades. Ford felt a similar sensation as he trudged a few steps behind his brother. Once again, they had fallen silent; as they walked through town their eyes took in everything like tourists, while their feet guided them like locals.

_____________________________________

Stan and Ford stood before the aged white gates of Greenwood Cemetery. The sun was hot, and both of their foreheads had acquired the sheen of sweat from their walk. The brothers could see the first row of cracked headstones from where they stood, although the names were illegible at this distance. The silence between the twins was interrupted by Stan. “We made it.”

“Yeah.” Ford replied with an air of resignation. “This is where they were buried.”

“Just like Pa wanted.”

“Next to each other?”

“I think so.”

“How long ago did Mom die?”

“Back when the kids were turning five, so like eight years ago.”

“Did you make it to the funeral?”

“Bad weather, couldn’t fly.” Stan replied quickly.

“That’s a shame.”

“She couldn’t fly those last couple years, so I hadn’t seen her in a while."

“She outlived Dad, right?”

“By a long shot.” Stan’s words carried a hint of satisfaction.

“When did he-”

“I can’t do this.” Stan interrupted.

“What?”

“This was a mistake.”

“No, we have to see this through.” Ford argued despite sharing his brother's sentiments.

“But not today. We’re effectively both retired, we can take some time to…prepare.”

“I suppose we should bring something like flowers, maybe a vase.”

“A stone for Pa?”

“Right, yes. Where should we get the stone?”

“Maybe we get one from outside the house?”

“That seems right; for him.” Ford reasoned.

“Let’s visit a couple places while we’re here. Peruse the ol’ stompin’ grounds.”

“Quite. There’s no need to rush the final stretch.”

“So, uh, we’ll be back Ma…Pa.”

“Yes. Definitely. Absolutely.” Ford echoed. The brothers turned and walked away from the front gates of Greenwood Cemetery with a fervor that bordered on galloping.

_____________________________________

The pair of old men crisscrossed familiar streets and navigated back to their childhood home; at least, what remained of it. The building formerly branded ‘Pines Pawns’ had been stripped of all character, boarded up, and sectioned off behind a chain link fence. Scanning their surroundings Ford spotted a sign that read ‘BANK OWNED - NO TRESPASSING’.

“Stanley, was our home repossessed?”

“I don’t know! I never inherited the thing!”

“Well did Shermie?”

“Yes! Er, I mean, I assumed? He never said otherwise!”

“Well do you have Shermie’s phone number so we can call and ask what happened?”

“You think Shermie has a cell phone Stanford?” Stan asked incredulously. As the brothers argued, the front door to the neighboring deli ‘Knuckle Sandwich’ opened.

“Woah, what are you geezers yellin’ about? You’re gonna scare off the few customers I have left.”

“What’s it to you pal?” Stan shot back.

“I work here, and I live here, wise guy.”

“Yeah, well I used to live in this place before you were born!” Stan countered. The young man took off his uniform hat and stared at the twins.

“Holy shit…Are you Caryn’s family?”

“You knew our mother?” Ford said, eyeing the youth suspiciously.

“I’m Donnie, Donnie the third, after my father Donnie the second, named after his father Donnie the first; founder of the Knuckle Sandwich. Ring a bell?” Stan and Ford’s brains transposed the image in their brain of the man who ran the next-door sandwich shoppe during their childhood.

“Now that you mention it…” Ford began.

“I don’t see it.” Stan said with a cross of his arms. Donnie laughed.

“What a small world. Come in, come in. Let’s bring the conversation inside.” Ford leaned over to whisper in his brother's ear.

“Should we trust this kid?”

“Foods on me!” Donnie offered. Stan smiled and rushed forward, tossing an arm around the young adult's shoulder. Ford sighed as his brother crossed into the store and he got his answer, following along.

Chapter Text

Donnie slid a Philly cheesesteak and chicken parm in front of Stan and Ford respectively. The barely twenty something was brunette with the pimply skin and braces of a teenager, but he moved through the kitchen with the seasoned grace of a career chef. “It’s a stroke of luck that I even came in today to bump into you’s two; normally I’m watching my niece but my dead-beat brother-in-law decided to actually pay his kid a visit. So, you’re Caryn’s boys?”

“Yes.” Ford responded curtly as Stan bit into his sandwich and groaned with delight.

“Great woman I tell ya; ordered a hot pepper sub every Saturday no questions asked, even when we weren’t open! I’d make it upstairs and walk it over no charge. She had a lot of little routines that I think helped her track time.” Stan swallowed the latest bite of his sandwich before speaking up.

“So, can you tell us what’s going on with the place next door? Why’s it boarded up?”

“Been that way for a while. I’ve managed to sneak in a convo here and there with the realtor, so I know this much; after Miss Caryn passed there was an inquiry into her and her late husband's finances, and it turns out they missed more than a few mortgage payments.” Ford rubbed his brow with frustration while Stan nodded along unsurprised. “The home didn’t have a designated inheritor, and a ton of ignored plumbing issues meant it couldn’t immediately go back on the market. So, within a few days the ‘Pines Pawns’ sign and decor was gone and now it’s like that, bland and abandoned in all but name. But that’s why you two are here, yeah?”

“Pardon?” Ford said.

“If you’re her kids you’ve got claim to the property. Glass Shard Beach don’t honor much but it does honor legacy; I’m certain you could work somethin’ out with the bank if you can prove lineage. You got your birth certificates on hand?” Stan recalled the multiple copies of fake certificates back at the Mystery Shack in Oregon.

“Uh, not on hand.” Stan responded.

“Darn…But hey, I could act as a go between if you wanted! You could mail me a copy, and I could bring ‘em to Town Hall.”

“Why are you so eager to help us?” Ford scrutinized. Donnie placed his uniform hat back on his head.

“Miss Caryn was a sweetheart, but she didn’t have much. In fact, just about the only thing she had besides a ton of knick knacks were stories. Most of ‘em were clearly made up to entertain me and my sister, but every so often she’d slip in a story about her boys.” Donnie turned around and began to clean some of the used mugs and silverware. “My Ma and Grandma passed away when I was young; they left me starvin’ for a mother figure and, well, I’m certain Miss Caryn could tell but she never pushed me away or got the ick. She treated me like one of her own.” After saying this Donnie lowered the glass he was scrubbing and spoke in a sadder tone. “You…Could have visited her more, ya know.” Ford thrust his palms against the counter and began to stand before Stan spoke.

“Yeah. I shoulda.” Ford’s anger deflated at hearing the dejected response from his younger twin. “Ford couldn’t have…But I could. I should have visited more.” Donnie took two clean glasses and fixed each brother a root beer float. The frothy treat coaxed Ford back into his seat as Donnie spread his arms along the counter.

“So that’s why I wanna help; to tell you the truth I’ve tried buying the place myself, but I can’t afford it. The last thing I want is some big corporate business sweeping in to buy up her home. If you can regain ownership, I’ll fix it up on my own dime.” Stan focused on the bubbles floating up his glass. After a few seconds he extended a hand to the kid.

“Alright Donnie, we’ll see what we can do.” Donnie reached out and reciprocated the handshake.

_____________________________________

Night had fallen and the pale sliver of moonlight glinted off the pair of sheers that Stan held. Ford adjusted his glasses.

“Breaking and entering so soon after getting back to the states?”

“I’ll have you know I’m only banned in two states for breaking and entering so it’s still novel for a crook like me!” Stan snipped through the wire gate and pulled a chunk aside for himself and Ford to slip through.

“And what if you’re wrong about there being no security in place?”

“Well, I’d say you better stretch now so we can sprint back to the ship.” The pair approached the front door and Stan examined it cautiously. After a few quiet moments the conman retrieved a bobby pin and jiggled it inside the doorknob.

“That sort of thing only works in cartoons and comic-” The door clinked open. “-books…” Ford trailed off, eating his words. Stan smirked, gripped the knob, and pushed the door to his childhood home open.

Chapter Text

As Stan opened the door the resulting rush of air cast dust everywhere; Stan and Ford tore down cobwebs as they crossed the threshold. Moonlight illuminated the first couple feet into the building and caused the dust to glitter like a shimmery fog. Past the moon's reach was dark because of the boarded-up windows, so Ford produced a flashlight and turned it on. A quick scan of their surroundings revealed furniture covered by grey sheets and potted plants long withered without water or sun. The pair stood there quietly as distant memories of Pines Pawns bubbled to the surface. “Was it always this…Small?” Ford asked.

“Not how I remember it.” Stan replied. “Pa kept this place packed to the brim when he owned it.” The shapes beneath the sheets were rectangular and long, no doubt the display cases that once spilled over with trinkets and wares. Stan approached the nearest case and lifted its sheet for confirmation. “Picked clean, not a thing left inside.”

“When Dad passed, Mom must have taken over the business to support herself.”

“Nah, I think she sold whatever stock he had and closed up.” Stan dropped the sheet and rubbed his hands on his pants. “She hated how dusty it got down here with all his crap; probably couldn’t wait to clear it out.” Ford walked behind the display cases and Stan shuddered. “Yeesh, you look like him standin’ back there.”

“That means you look like him too.” Ford quipped, to Stan’s chagrin. The scientist evened out the wrinkles in the sheet that Stan disturbed. “I mean, you even went on to sell things like him. Isn’t that funny? After everything you went through, your longest standing profession echoed our fathers.” Stan folded his arms in defiance.

“Through no help of his. Sure, he taught us to ‘buy low and sell high’ to turn a profit but that miser burned another bridge every other week with customers. He knew nothin’ about client retention or satisfaction.”

“You had more charisma than him, that’s no doubt. Despite employing quite a bit of trickery at the Mystery Shack, one look at Soos shows the positive effect your shops had on the locals. Dad could never say that.” Stan’s shoulders sagged at Ford’s words.

“Yeah…I wonder how Melody and him are doin’; it’s been a few months since they took over. I should give ‘em a call soon.” Ford nodded and continued walking along the perimeter behind the cases. Eventually, the man stumbled upon a doormat that read ‘No thanks, we’re good’ lying before a closed wooden door. Stan joined his brother.

“Ready to go upstairs?”

“No.” Stan replied. Ford turned and pushed the door open, revealing the carpeted staircase to the second floor. Stan was busy fiddling with his hands when Ford gripped one and began to lead his twin up the stairs. As they climbed the stairs Ford could feel how calloused his brother's hand was, and Stan could feel how scarred Ford’s was. At the top of the steps were an empty shoe rack and coat rack adorned with cobwebs. The pair continued into the next room when Stan resisted Ford’s tugging.

“What’s up?” Ford asked. Stan pointed toward the entryway where multiple knicks had been carved along it. Ford read the engravings; ‘Stan, Age 6’, ‘Ford Age 6’, ‘Shermie Age 8’, ‘Stan Age 10’, ‘Ford Age 10’. It was the siblings’ heights. Ford ran his fingers along the wood and recalled every measurement, every opportunity to see which twin would begin to outgrow the other. Stan’s eyes were locked on the engraving ‘Stan Age 17’. Ford tightened his grip around his brother's hand, snapping him back to reality. Stan turned to his twin. “You OK?”

“I think so.” Stan said attempting to reassure himself. The businessman tugged his hand away and patted Ford on the back before proceeding deeper into the home. Ford followed. The pair entered the combination kitchen and living room. Ford turned to the refrigerator and found a handful of magnets still clinging to its surface; butterflies, various letters spelling nothing, bag clips, and magnets with the info for local doctors and specialists.

“Cardiology, orthopedics, dermatology, onco-” Ford swallowed the word. He picked up the magnet and stared at it for a long while, ‘oncology’. Stanley meanwhile had passed the couch and coffee table and pulled the sheet off the aging relic that was the family’s T.V. Stan stared into the meagre twenty inch screen and recalled countless nights entertained by the ol’ idiot box. The old man’s gaze shifted toward the beaded curtain which marked the entrance to his parents’ bedroom. Stan approached the curtain out of curiosity but dragged his feet with reservation. By the time his trembling hand had slipped between some of the beads Ford had joined him at the threshold. The pair passed through and found a queen size bed with boxes stacked atop it. The closet was empty, as were the cabinet drawers, but these boxes were sealed with packing tape. Stan withdrew his Swiss army knife and cut through the tape before Ford could stop him, not that the scientist planned to. The box was full of dresses and faux furs. Stan cut into another box and found shoes, sneakers, heels, and boots. The third box yielded winter and rain jackets and the fourth the type of undergarments that Stan and Ford immediately resealed. The fifth and final box had old photo albums, some the boys remembered and others they didn’t. Ford gripped a checkered red and brown book that he recalled was his and Stan’s baby book. Ford opened it and found four footprints stamped into the weathered front-page, a pair with five toes and another with six.

“Well, we found her clothes…and her memories.” Stan declared.

“We’re lucky the bank didn’t toss them out.” Ford said with a sigh of relief. Feeling skittish in his parents' bedroom, Stan walked back to the curtain of beads.

“Wanna check what’s left of our bedroom?” Ford nodded and placed the baby book back inside the cardboard box. The brothers crossed the living room, entered a hallway, passed the bathroom, and found their bedroom door at the end. Stan couldn’t bring himself to open the door unaided, so Ford reached down and together they turned the knob. The room was emptier than in their childhood, but that did nothing to curb the wave of nostalgia. The window in this room hadn't been boarded up, so moonlight trickled inside and filled the space; the closet was ajar with empty hangars, the corner was occupied by a pile of mix-matched toys, and the bunk bed had a single cardboard box on it.

“Another box?” Ford said curiously. Stan moved toward the box to cut it open but found no tape, the flaps had merely been folded shut. The pair sat on either side of the box as they peered inside. “Looks like papers?”

“Or…cards?” Stan questioned. As the old man reached inside and turned over a card the words on its front caused both twins’ hearts to drop - ‘Happy 10th Birthday!’. Stan dropped the birthday card and Ford withdrew another, this one reading ‘Happy 13th Birthday!’.

“Our birthday cards? She kept our old birthday cards?” Ford shook.

“N-no.” Stan stammered as he dug back into the box and pulled out a card that read ‘Happy 34th Birthday!’ “She didn’t just keep the old ones…” Stan opened the card and read it aloud.

“To Stanford and Stanley…” Ford’s eyes grew glossy.

“She stopped giving me birthday cards after you…After Dad threw you out. Are you telling me she just bought and stored them? What would possess her to do such a thing?” Stan’s hands shook as he lowered the birthday card.

“I think…I think we’ll get our answer if we read them.” Ford balled his fists and felt a dread he’d never felt before at the prospect of reading. Stan dumped the box onto its side and sifted through the cards until he found the one for his and Ford’s eighteenth birthday, the first one after the twins separated. “Ready?”

“No.” Ford echoed his brother from earlier. “But do it.” Stan opened the card and read the first sentence in a wall of text.

“To Stanley and Stanford. I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Text

1969

“We got a cap and gown today. Just one, but we should’ve gotten two. It breaks my heart, but what am I supposed to do? Not go to Stanford’s graduation? Yeah, the other moms in the neighborhood would love that wouldn’t they? Probably start a rumor that I was too drunk to attend, or that I was steppin’ out, or that I’d finally lost it and left Filbrick. Why is that huh? It’s not like he’s gonna go, like he’s ever gone to any celebration for the boys that wasn’t somethin’ he pushed them into. Filly could fuck off to the middle of nowhere for a year and folks would still say he’s a good man cause he pays the rent. But me? A little late to the stepping up ceremony for pre-school and I don’t hear the end of it for all of elementary. Why is all the pressure to show up on me and not him? It’s bullshit! It’s bullshit that I have to go and watch Stanford graduate with a big smile on my face and ignore the chatter when folks realize Stanley is missing. That Stanley is gone and we don’t know where he is or how he’s doin’. But we got a cap and gown today, and in two weeks it’ll get worn and then get hung up in the closet collectin’ dust for the next however many decades. A reminder that I bought one, when I should’ve bought two.”
_____________________________________
1972

“Happy 21st Birthday Boys. Stanford graduated from college today, first in the family! Ain’t that a hoot? He looked much happier than the last time he walked. I was all sunshine and smiles too, ya know, for the crowd, but in that big fancy quad on those white foldin’ chairs I just kept thinkin’ about you Stanley. I know you’re out there, I heard the rumors of your little business the Sham-Wow, funny name I tell ya’ that. I also heard that you got run out when folks didn’t take kindly to their new blue clothes. I dunno where you are now; Pennsylvania, Delaware, God forbid New York. I just hope you’re makin’ ends meet and got food in your belly. You haven’t come home once, not even to try and sneak in, and I try not to hold against you but you're stubborn, stubborn just like your dad who comes up from downstairs and sits at the table and expects me to feed him every night at dinner like he’s always had two sons, not three. Stanford’s not home anymore since he lives at school, lives in his dorm room really with a trip here and there to the library but at least I know where he is. At least I can drop by for an afternoon and get away and make him take a walk with me on the boardwalk. Maybe we’ll get to stroll down memory lane in a couple years Stanley. Happy birthday boys.”
_____________________________________
1975

“DOCTOR Stanford Pines has a nice ring to it don’tcha think? Bet the rest of the broads in the led paint district can’t say they have a doctor in the family. Well this broad can! I’m proud of you Stanford; you’ve been pushin’ yourself so so hard ever since you made it to Backupsmore and I mean the rave reviews Professors - I thought I was done with parent teacher conferences when you graduated highschool but I’m invited to office hours and luncheons to discuss your genius all the time. They wonder what we fed you, how we raised you, what doctors or therapy we put you through, and if we sent you to summer camp or youth programs and everytime I tell them the same thing; ‘my little Stanford didn’t get his brains from me or his father, he’s a one of a kind brainiac. But him and Stanley did get my great skin.’ And then they ask about Stanley and…I do it to myself, I bring you up and like some idiot I think they aren’t gonna ask about you. But they do. And I tell ‘em that you’re off doin’ you’re own big things. And that’s what I tell myself. Happy birthday boys, well, you’re not boys anymore are ya? But I’m your mom, you’ll always be my boys.”
_____________________________________
1976

“How’s it goin’ west coast boy? Doin’ west coast things like catchin’ waves and protestin’ tree choppin’s? I’ll admit, I didn’t enjoy when you decided to pack up shop and head across the country but it has had a benefit; Shermie’s makin’ plans to check our California cause he can’t handle the winters anymore, and I think I’m handlin’ that a lot better than with you, and with Stanley. You two kinda ripped the bandaid off in a way. Every mother has to watch her kids go off into the world, and she’s gotta have faith she’s gotten them ready for what they’ll come across. Who knows Stanford, maybe you’ll come across your brother out there in the wild west; I wouldn’t be surprised if he got far away from Jersey. Well…I could go on, me bein’ a blabbermouth and all but…If you can keep a secret? Maybe I’ll follow you boys out west one day. Just a thought, a secret thought, so don’t go blabbin’ to no one. Love you both, happy birthday.

P.S. You owe me an Oregon Magnet for the fridge Stanford! You promised!”
_____________________________________
1981

“Hey Stanford, happy 30th. The big three-oh. Look, I haven’t heard from you in awhile and I get it, you got a whole life out west to worry about includin’ your science. Just, gimme a write or a ring sometime soon? Your dad can’t really work anymore cause of his back and he’s drivin’ me up the wall, so I could use chattin’ with somebody else. That’s all from me, I’ll keep things short - all the years on the phone has my wrist weak.

And happy birthday to you too Stanley. Mama misses you.”
_____________________________________
1983

“I jinxed it, I fuckin’ jinxed it. I went to a fortune teller at the local fair, she shows up every year, and every year I think of asking about Stanley but I never did it! For fourteen years I kept it pent up and then this year when I’m feelin’ lonely I do it, I pull the plug and say hey, how’s my boy Stanley doing? Can your fancy ball say anything about him? And now look; I have a funeral on the calendar. I dunno why you were in the northwest, or if you were driven off the road, or drunk or who knows what but a closed casket? To think you’d look so bad that they refuse to let me see you one last time? How could they do that? How could they do that to a mother? Don’t they know I haven’t seen you in almost fifteen years? How I’ve had to see you in your father’s face every night at dinner? And your father, that prick, he hears about you passing and shuts down. Goes quiet. Gets up and goes for a drive and leaves me home alone for hours until he turns back up at almost three in the morning. The first thing you do when your wife hears her son is dead and you go get wasted? I can’t do this, I won’t do this. I’m gonna pack my shit and move in with Shermie. I’ll pack extra for the funeral and just fly south instead of comin’ home. How could I put you in the ground and then come home and see your bedroom everyday? Is that how I’m suppose to live? Haunted by my own fuck ups until I die? Maybe it’s what a mother like me deserves.”
_____________________________________
1987

“He’s gone. My husband is gone, and I’m here alone. You know what he told me before he passed? He said he was sorry for everything he did but he gave no specifics. Just, everything. The doctors couldn’t do anything to save him, he’d been sick for too long and been avoidin’ his doctor’s appointments. If you asked me, he killed himself by runnin’ away from the only folks who could help him. But when I got the life insurance I understood. One final gift to me, enough to keep payin’ the mortgage and keep me comfortable. I guess that’s all I can ask for at this point. Stanley, we both know you’re father isn’t going to join you up in heaven, but maybe God will let you visit him if you ask real nice. He kept it secret from me till the day he died, but he never took your photo out his wallet. Rat bastard.

Happy 36th birthday boys.”
_____________________________________
1996

“Hiya Stanford. Can you believe I finally visited Salem for the first time? All the witches and bitches get down in Salem. I did cut my trip a little short cause of the lump on my wrist but I got a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday. And the next door neighbor's kid gets my groceries whenever I want so I’m not liftin’ anything too heavy these days. Hope you’re good and you’re keepin’ in touch with Shermie.”
_____________________________________
2000

“Shermie’s a Grandpa. You know what that makes me? Fuckin’ old (excuse my language). Never thought I’d be a great-grandmother but here we are. And twins? I know it runs in the family but…it has me thinkin’ of the day you two were born. My little geminis, twins of destiny. Although these two are leos and a boy and a girl at that. Mason and Mabel…About time this family has a girl! I can’t sew for shit but I’ll send over some blankets for the kids assumin’ the shippin’ doesn’t cost my kidney. Shermie told me you were there Stanford, and I’m glad this got you out of your cabin in the woods.”
_____________________________________
2002

“Happy 52nd Birthday boys. On account of the cancer I can’t really fly, so after a long wait I finally got to hold Mason and Mabel and they are the most beautiful little things. Big eyes, soft hair, gorgeous skin and you can’t keep them apart. You hold one you gotta hold the other. You feed one you gotta feed the other. You give one a toy and they pass it back and forth without fuss. I’d say they were like you two, and I’d be right. I can tell they’ll be two peas in a pod till the end of time. It makes me happy, so happy that I got to meet them. Jersey is good, quiet, but good. I never did make out to the west coast, couldn’t abandon this house even after Filly passed. Guess that’s just how it is. Ah well, at least when the painkillers don’t do the job I can walk down to the beach and soak my feet in the water. Maybe when it’s my time I’ll just drift away on the waves.”
_____________________________________
2004

“Fifty-four years. I’m glad I could make it to fifty-four. I haven’t told nobody but the doctors say it’s not lookin’ good. They give me another month, maybe two if I’m lucky. But I’m ready. I’m ready to lay down and float away into the sky and see Stanley again. And when the time comes Stanford I’ll be there to greet you and I’ll finally have both my boys back. My wrist hurts, so forgive an old woman for keepin’ things brief. I love you boys. I always have, even when I fucked up. I always will, even after I pass.

Signed, with love, Caryn Romanoff Pines.”

Chapter Text

Curled together on the bottom bunk of their childhood bed, surrounded by thirty years of their mother’s regrets, Stanley and Stanford cried.

Chapter Text

Stanley pushed open the front door and held it for his brother. Moments later, Stanford walked out carrying the cardboard box full of birthday cards. “Thank you, Stanley.”

“Don’t mention it.” Stan replied, wiping a lingering tear from his eye. After letting the door swing shut the old man’s gaze dropped to a nearby pile of white rocks. Stan squatted down and pocketed one of the stones from the front lawn.

“Stanley, I can’t pull open the fence.”

“Right, coming.” Stan responded.

_____________________________________

Neither twin got much sleep that night. As Stan and Ford groggily ascended onto the deck of the Stan O’ War they found the morning breeze unusually balmy. The air’s gentle caress carried off all fatigue and left both men feeling refreshed. “So, what should we get up to today?” Stan asked.

“Perhaps we can take a stroll down the boardwalk?”

“Finally gonna join the freakshow?” Stan teased, prompting a punch to the shoulder from Ford.

“Heh, no you knucklehead. However, it would be nice to see the old comic book shop.”

“Wait, do you think the ol’ Peep Show is still around?!” Stan’s eyes glittered as he dashed off toward the boardwalk. Ford shook his head with exasperation before following his brother.

_____________________________________

“It’s surprisingly empty for late morning on a weekend.” Ford surmised. The boardwalk was devoid of any passerby besides the brothers.

“And there ain’t a cloud in the sky to keep folks off the beach, but I don’t see anyone.” Stan remarked. “Wait, what’s that sign say?” Ford adjusted his glasses and gazed at the sign a couple yards out onto the sand.

“Beach Closed for Maintenance.”

“Maintenance? What kinda maintenance do they do at a beach?”

“I suppose landscaping, but I can’t see any evidence of work being done. There don’t appear to be any tools or containers strewn about.”

“But then what’s stoppin’ somebody from goin’ in the water?”

“Probably that teenager.” Ford pointed in the direction of a lifeguard tower with a pimply highschooler scrolling on his phone.

“So they got the lifeguard guarding nobody’s life but instead acting as some kinda security guard? Hey kid! They aren’t paying you enough to be a snitch!” Stan shouted. The lifeguard, unphased by Stan’s berating, shot the old man a middle finger and continued to scroll. “Why I outta!-”

“He’s not worth it Stanley. Let’s keep walking to the comic book store! If it’s this empty outside, then the stores are likely to be just as vacant.”

_____________________________________

“How could this happen?!” Ford wailed. The old man slouched against the comic store’s front door which had a large sign that read ‘THANKS FOR FORTY YEARS! PERMANENTLY CLOSED’.

“Uh, that probably had something to do with it.” Stan pointed next door to a shiny storefront with the sign ‘WHAMAZON WAREHOUSE: GET WHAMMED!’ Ford marched over to the Whamazon door and peeked inside. A man sat behind the solitary piece of furniture, a darkwood office desk, adjacent to a door locked with a scanner.

“What do they even sell here?”

“Kinda everything.”

“That’s a terrible business model.”

“Eh, Wendy was tellin’ me they sell a lot of stuff cheaper than anyone else and ship to pretty much everywhere. Kinda like Stallmart.”

“Stallmart?”

“Oh we don’t have time to get into Stallmart. Just know they’re the most successful scam of the decade, maybe even the century.” Ford sighed with frustration.

“Logically I know it’s been three decades, but it’s never easy realizing how much has changed. I’m sorry Stanley, I’d hoped this would be a more nostalgic detour.”

“Actually, there’s still something here worth checkin’ out. Look.” Stan raised a finger toward the lighthouse the brothers had snuck into when they were much younger. “Wanna go take a peek?”

_____________________________________

Stan and Ford arrived at the lighthouse and found another forbidding sign plainly reading ‘OFF LIMITS’. However, with no security in place all it took was one coordinated kick from the pair of twins to bring the door off its hinges. After climbing the stairs to the control room Ford found himself overcome with recollection. “This place felt so much bigger.”

“Remember those hoity-toity disguises we had to wear to sneak in here?”

“Disguises that were just clothes we robbed from another set of twins.”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that part. What were they called? The Super Doofus Bros?” Ford’s nasally laugh echoed throughout the empty tower. “That whole fiasco was when I stole Pa’s gold chain, yeah?”

“Yup. We went so far as to track down The Jersey Devil in an effort to cover up your crime. Wait…The Jersey Devil.” Ford dug around in his jacket and produced a flashlight. The scientist stepped out onto the catwalk and shone his light across the rocks to a small opening in the cliffside. Stan joined his brother outside and leaned against the railing.

“Are you thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’?” Stan asked.

“Let’s pay The Devil a visit, for old time’s sake.”

Chapter Text

Ford led the trudge through the shallows with Stan not far behind. The sun had set but the moon had yet to rise causing the ocean to appear a deep black. Guided by the scientists' flashlight the pair avoided tripping over any of the rocks concealed beneath the water's surface. Within a few minutes they had arrived at the shore opposite the lighthouse and clambered into the cave opening. Ford shone his light inside and found the staircase-like rocks that descended into the Jersey Devil’s lair. “Still as big as I remember.” Ford uttered with amazement at the carved stone walls.

“Youda thought we had a death wish pokin’ around in a place like this. The floor has a thin layer of water everywhere; one wrong step and your heads cracked like an egg.” Stan inched down the slippery slope while Ford confidently strode ahead. As he reached the bottom of the stairs Ford noticed the reach of his flashlight shrinking and decided to wait for Stan. “How kind of you to wait for an old fart like me.” Stan said sarcastically.

“No use in losing you down here. Hold my hand for this next part.” Stan hesitated. “Something wrong?”

“When was the last time you washed your hand?”

“Pardon?”

“I saw you picking your nose earlier Stanford.”

“You’re mistaken! I was plucking an errant nosehair, not picking my nose.”

“Plucking kinda undersells it.”

“Don’t be so juvenile! Just take my hand.”

“Fine, fine, whatever you say booger fingers.” Stan teased before gripping his brother’s hand. Ford pouted but nevertheless led Stan through the dark. Aside from the occasional drip of water and the sloshing of their footsteps the surroundings were quiet. “What’s the plan when we come across this big palooka again?”

“I can’t say.”

“Stanford Pines without a thing to say? Hell’s frozen over.”

“Fine, I’ll elaborate.While The Jersey Devil shares morphological and behavioral characteristics with old world Dragons, as a resident of the quote unquote new world it is oddly unique. I hypothesize that it has shared ancestry with old world Dragons but split off and flew across the ocean sometime in the past, but studying the creature is difficult because, well, there appears to only be one of them.”

“We never did come back here after the whole fiasco with Dad’s chain. Did you do any huntin’ on your own time?”

“Admittedly, no. Once we were in high school everything was oriented towards college and, well, you know the story. During what little time I allowed myself at Backupsmore I wasn’t revisiting old haunts; too focused on the future.”

“So, there’s a chance this thing isn’t even around anymore. It coulda flown to who knows where or even died.”

“Hence my previous statement of ‘I can’t say’. If the Devil is around, then this will be my first opportunity to study it since we were children.”

“Jeez you make everything sound more dramatic; can’t believe you never took up theatre.”

“And whose to say I didn’t? Thirty years is a long time, Stanley.”

“Don’t remind me.” Stan laughed. After a few more minutes of stumbling around the brothers crossed from stepping on damp stones to wet sand. “This is about where I found it last time, right?”

“I believe so.” Ford waved the flashlight around over glinting metal and weathered ivory. “The treasure chests and skeletons seem to still be here, but no sign of our Devil friend.” Stan gripped his brother's hand and pointed the flashlight deeper down a large tunnel. “Nice catch Stan.” The duo proceeded down the tunnel and left behind the wet sand for dry rubble. “This doesn’t appear manmade, so I presume it’s the work of The Devil.”

“How far back do you think it goes?”

“I wouldn’t assume too far, maybe less than a mile? I can feel a slight breeze from ahead.” The two continued down the dark corridor for about fifteen minutes before a speck of light on the horizon began to grow. The rubble underfoot transitioned into softer soil as Stan and Ford crossed into what appeared to be the bottom of a pit. From high above the stars and moon cast their light into the depths where the brothers stood, eliminating the need for the flashlight. Paper and plastic debris were scattered throughout the pit and Stan scratched the back of his head.

“What’s with all the trash?”

“Let me do some quick math.” Ford said whilst rubbing his chin. “Based on the pace we walked, distance covered, and the angle of this pit…I think that opening is next to the highway leading out of town. All this trash has probably blown in over the years.”

“How could The Devil get away with nesting at the bottom of the world's most obvious pit? It’s not like there’s a forest up there flankin’ the road on either side.”

“I would guess the hole didn’t always exist. Look at the edges.” Ford pointed. “The direction of the marks implies whatever made the hole did it from underground.”

“So, The Devil dug its way to the surface? Why would it do that?”

“That I can’t say…Nothing in our immediate surroundings leads me to a conclusion. However, it would seem The Devil hasn’t stayed here for quite some time.”

“Bummer.” Stan said before kicking a mostly empty can of seltzer. “Even that giant rat flew the coop after all these years.” Ford approached a large puddle of water and stared at his reflection. “Just the way of things I suppose. Still, not the worst way to spend a day. I got to remember everything with Pa and that chain.” Ford stared at the contours of his face and scowled.

“He was terrible.” Stan turned toward his brother as if all the air in the room was sucked out. “He was terrible, and I look just like him.” Stan approached his twin and looked in the puddle.

“We both do.”

“It’s a cruel bit of irony to resemble him so strongly after everything he did to you.”

“Yeah…But I also look like you. And you’re not so bad.” Stan elbowed his twin. Ford’s scowl softened and he kicked the puddle, disrupting their reflections. “Let’s get back to the boat for tonight huh? We can grab some dinner on the way back.” Stan turned away from the puddle and headed back toward the tunnel. Ford lingered by the rippling water before wordlessly turning to join his twin.