Chapter Text
If they were being honest with themselves, they would admit that they should have known sooner. The strange disappearances and subpar excuses were obvious clues, and given what they were, they should have picked up on those clues. Maybe it was blissful ignorance. They didn’t want to acknowledge that some of those explanations hit a little close to home, were eerily similar to ones they themselves had used. No one wondered how, for the strangest of reasons, things would line up so perfectly. Looking back, it was so obvious. But no one asked the question even once.
It would still be answered, though, on June 23, 2002.
June 23, 2002 – The Northwest Mansion, Berlin, Germany
“Remind me why I have to wear this monkey suit, again?” Stan grumbled, tugging at the collar of his tux.
“It’s a high-class gala. If you show up in khakis and a polo shirt, you’ll be turned away at the door,” Ford replied. “And given that this mission relies upon us actually being inside…”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
“Boys, settle down,” a gentle British voice said calmly, also over the comlink. “Now, everyone, are you in position?” A chorus of voices greeted his question. “One at a time! Alphabetical order, please, for my peace of mind.”
“Atbash is in position,” Ford said, his voice slightly distorted with an added New Jersey accent.
“Caesar is in position,” Stan said, still fidgeting with his suit.
“Diamond is in position,” the voice of a French woman said softly.
“Turquoise is in position,” a gruff Russian voice said.
“Now, to refresh everyone’s memory,” the British voice, Gif, said, “I will state your role in this mission.”
“Do you really need to?” Stan asked. “I mean, I don’t know about Diamond and Turquoise, but Atbash and I were debriefed about a million times on the way over.” Someone snickered over the comlink.
“Atbash, your job is to obtain the names of the buyers, by hacking the computer system. Turquoise, your job is to get close to Befufftlefumpter and obtain any names possible through that method. Diamond, prevent security from removing Turquoise from Buffuftlefumpter’s vicinity. Caesar, if things go south, go in guns blazing.” Stan grunted. “Does everyone understand?” Various accented voices gave their affirmation. “All right then, head inside and enjoy the party.”
“I’ve completed my portion of the mission,” Ford said. They had been inside for about forty-five minutes now.
“What took you so long?” Stan asked snarkily, leaning against a wall. He was avoiding getting in the midst of the fancily-dressed partygoers, preferring to keep an eye on things from a distance. “Last time it took you like five minutes to do your hacking thing.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” Ford replied. “It was more difficult than I expected.”
“Well done, Atbash,” Gif said. “Stay around though, as backup, if need be.”
“Of course.”
“Status update from everyone, please.”
“Not seeing much of anything weird,” Stan said casually. “Well, if you don’t count that one person in the lion suit. What was that about?”
“Turquoise cannot respond right now,” Diamond said. “But their portion of the mission is going very well. As is mine.”
“Thank you, Caesar and Diamond. If a situation develops, keep me in the loop.”
“You got it.” Stan continued to lean against the wall, trying to ignore how tight his suit jacket was, as well as how hot his mask was. He hadn’t realized that rich people parties were this uncomfortable.
“Guten Abend,” a smooth female voice said. He jolted to his feet. One of the ladies had broken off from the pack of overly dressed upper-class folk. She glided over to him, a disarming smile on her face.
Shit, Stan thought.
“Haben Sie Spaβ?” she asked.
“Uh, sorry, um,” Stan stammered, trying to remember the German phrases he had been taught before arriving in Berlin. “Ich spreche nicht Deutsch. Is that right?”
“Your pronunciation could use some work, but good,” she said in thickly accented English.
“You speak English?” She chuckled.
“Most people in Germany do.” She leaned against the wall next to him, idly twirling a strand of caramel-colored hair around her finger. “So you are from the United States, yes?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the other people sipping champagne and laughing snootily. Stan shifted uncomfortably. The music changed. She looked up.
“Would you care to dance?”
“I don’t think so.” She pouted. “I have two left feet.” That wasn’t true, but Stan made it a general rule to not be distracted from a mission, particularly by someone wearing a mask. Well, it was a masquerade, but the fact remained. He didn’t want to dance with some strange rich German lady and risk wrecking the mission.
“I don’t believe that,” she said coyly. Stan looked away. A sharp burst of static suddenly sounded over his headset.
“Ouch!” He quickly looked back at the stranger. She was gone. “Gif, what was that?” he hissed. No response. “Gif?” Still nothing. “Hey, Atbash, I think something may have gone wrong back at HQ. Gif isn’t responding.”
“What? But he always responds!”
“Where are you? Maybe we can end the mission early, or at least one of us can leave.”
“I’m by the food table, but I don’t know if it would be wise to-” Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by a commotion.
“I knew it! Yet another spy, from that shadow organization!” the target, Eustace Beffuftlefumpter, crowed. He had ripped the mask off of someone. Someone that Stan recognized.
“Turquoise!” Diamond said, distressed. “Caesar, where are you? We need to get to them!”
“Everyone, the party is over!” Befufftlefumpter shouted, shoving Turquoise into the arms of a nearby security guard. “Leave at once!” Immediately, a veritable wave of extravagantly dressed people poured toward the exit.
“Caesar, Atbash, I need your help!” Diamond said.
“Diamond, we’ll have to reconvene at HQ,” Ford said. “There are too many people here and there’s no possible way to get to Turquoise.” No one responded. “Diamond? Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” she said huffily. There was a small beep as she turned off her headset.
Stan and Ford met each other outside the mansion.
“Stan, what happened in there?” Ford asked quietly. They began to walk toward where the Stanleymobile was parked. “I thought you were supposed to be keeping an eye on things.”
“I got distracted.”
“Really?”
“It’s not important.”
“I’m fairly certain it’s important. And I’m positive the Chief will think so as well.”
“So the person that Befufftlefumpter unmasked,” Stan said, unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat.
“Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re doing,” Ford scolded, getting in as well. He paused to buckle. “But yes, I recognized them as well.” He looked out the window. “Is Marley really a part of Gravity Falls?”
September 3, 2000 – Annapolis, Maryland, United States
“I have somethin’ to tell you.” Stan and Ford looked up at Fiddleford. They were sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast.
“Are you finally coming out?” Stan asked. Fiddleford blushed.
“No, it’s not that.” He took a seat at the table with them. “Ford, you’ve met my younger sister, Angie.”
“Is she the one that studied biology?”
“Both of my sisters studied biology.”
“Is she the one that doesn’t wear glasses?”
“Yes.” He paused. “She graduated college a few months ago, and has been havin’ trouble finding a place to stay. So I may or may not have invited her to stay here.” Stan raised an eyebrow.
“Why couldn’t she have stayed back at your parent’s place?”
“Angie’s too independent for that. Also, she went to school in San Diego, so she’s gotten a taste for bigger cities.” Fiddleford rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just, well, she’s the baby of the family, the youngest, and Ma and Pa want someone to keep an eye on her. She’s kinda reckless and can be a bit of a space case.”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea for her to live here, then?” Ford asked. “I mean, Stan and I are gone all the time for our jobs.”
“Come on, Sixer, I’m sure it’ll be fun,” Stan said. “You’ll get to have another nerd in the house. You can all watch Star Trek together.”
“Angie actually doesn’t really like Star Trek.”
“Eh, you guys can still talk about your boring science things all the time. I say, sure, let the chick stay here. Someone to help pay the rent.”
“Ford?” Fiddleford asked expectantly.
“I suppose she can stay here, for a while,” he said finally. Fiddleford perked up.
“Good, because she should get here any minute now.” He leapt up from the table and went to the front door.
“Wait, what?”
“Oh, and she’s bringin’ her college roommate, too.”
“Two people are moving in?” As if on cue, a smart car pulled into the driveway. The passenger side door opened, and a young woman with caramel-colored hair got out. She said something to the driver of the car, then made a beeline for the door. Fiddleford opened it.
“Fidds!” she said happily, embracing him. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen ya!”
“I was at your graduation,” he said, smiling.
“That’s what I said. Too long.” Stan and Ford both noted that she had the same sort of southern accent that Fiddleford did, but less prominent. She looked outside. “Oh, let me grab Marley.” She ran back to the car.
“So that’s your sister, eh?” Stan asked. “She’s cute.”
“Excuse me?”
“Whatever you think I said, I’m sure I didn’t,” Stan said, opening up his newspaper and avoiding eye contact with Fiddleford.
“I see the family resemblance,” Ford said. It was fairly obvious that they were related. Angie had the same distinctive nose as Fiddleford and same blue eyes. She was several inches shorter than him, however, and was more freckled. The door opened again, and Angie was back, this time with someone beside her.
“Fidds, you’ve met Marley before.” Marley, androgynous, with light brown hair and thick glasses, held out their hand. Fiddleford shook it.
“Nice to see you again, Fiddleford.”
“Likewise.” Fiddleford looked back at the table, where the Stan twins were still sitting. “Stanley, Stanford, please, come introduce yourselves.” They stood up and walked over, Stan grumbling slightly. “Angie, Marley, this is Stanley and Stanford Pines. Stanford here was my college roommate at Backsupmore, and Stanley is his twin brother.” Angie and Marley smiled politely. “Stan, Ford, this my sister Angie and her friend Marley Schmetterling.” There was a round of mutual greetings. However, when Angie shook Ford’s hand, she paused.
“Wait, do you have post-axial polydactyly?” she asked. Ford turned red.
“Um…”
“Because that’s so cool!”
“Really?”
“Yeah! Can I see?” Ford held out his hands cautiously. She gasped.
“Post-axial polydactyly with a fully functionin’ finger on one hand is rare enough, but on both hands? That’s a one in a million chance!”
“Uh, thanks?”
“Angie, you and Marley should probably unpack. You’ll have plenty of time for introductions and what have you later,” Fiddleford said. Angie nodded and she and Marley went back to the car to retrieve their luggage.
“So, what do you think of Maryland so far?” Marley asked her.
“I think we’re goin’ to like it here.”