A/N: It's almost New Years! Hopefully, 2018 will be a better year for us all! I have my hopes in 2018! So, I hope you beautiful readers had an awesome Christmas! I know the holidays can be hard for some but I hope you're doing all right.

BADWOLF1221: Haha! Yes, yes it is.

Quiet Leaf: Bill needs a lot of sense knocked into him, Mabel had every right to slap him. And who knows! Maybe it will or maybe it won't.

TheSinicanEmpire: That's true! After everything Bill has gone through, we doubt he'd do anything too bad. But who knows. Bill's pretty unpredictable, his threats could be empty and they also could be real and full threats that you should take seriously. Ah! I am so glad that you enjoy my story! Here's the next chapter!

FrostyAngelWings: xD haha! That Mabel Juice though. It's been said it can cure the blind. It's that powerful, heh!

And now! After a short pause, the story will contiue! Let's go~!

It was empty, the prisoner was gone. His long nights of screaming and complaining had been silenced.

The ceiling was wet as it always had been—it leaked with green, musty, sewer water and it pattered neatly onto the ground. Dry blood—from many Lessons ago--crusted the walls and iced the stone floors as if someone had been dragged around like a ragdoll while they were bleeding heavily. Several Mentors padded across the cell, their identical bare feet slapped the cold floor and they inspected every area of the cell like dogs with slit-like eyes, they talked to one another in low and high hisses and groaned. One of them looked up, his hood over his head, "No traces of Prisoner 7777, my Liege." His face was shadowed but he was obviously upset; one of their most entertaining guests had left and their hands were tied, there wasn't exactly a way of tracing him without evidence of where he had gone.

The Voice spoke and its tone measured with quiet amusement, "Mm, I see that."

The Mentor that had spoken—Mentor #91—raised his eyebrows up to his hairline, "You don't sound so surprised, my Liege." He said and, once realizing the rudeness of his tone, quickly added, "with all due respect." Out of sheer nervousness he clasped his hands.

The Voice sighed, it was a cool wind, "I'm not surprised. You're correct in that." It said smoothly.

"Why, if I may ask, my Liege?" 91 asked.

"Oh. One could say I was well aware that this was would to happen, I've experienced several similar cases." The Voice said casually.

91 eyed his companions weirdly. The Voice didn't push the subject any further and instead said, "But have you ever considered that he may have had some help in escaping?" The Mentors all paused and gasped, lightbulbs flickering over their heads.

"The other prisoners may have had something to do with this!" Mentor #84 rasped with a clap of his hands.

The Voice hummed in consideration, "Perhaps, but they're far too stupid, don't you agree?" The men all faltered but The Voice continued, "Prisoner 7777 thinks too highly of himself to ask for assistance from his fellow prisoners, you have to think deeper into this." It clipped.

Mentor #52 felt the wheels turning in his head, "Didn't 7777 have a Mirror Lesson the other day?" His colleagues nodded, each respectively. 52 was on a role, "And don't demons like himself use mirrors to communicate with the outside world?" There was a pregnant pause before a collective breath of comprehension trickled through the cell like water on a fountain.

The Voice could've nodded and smirked, "That is a possibility for 7777. Something I would do if I were him, I say we study the mirror in a few hours time and track him with it." It said, "We'll have him in our hands soon enough." The Mentors whooped and hollered excitedly at having their toy back.

The Voice chuckled, nonchalant, "Yes, yes, the excitement is unbearable and it's agony to wait but we must get back to work." When The Mentors didn't budge, too preoccupied in their own celebrations, The Voice gave a small laugh, light with amusement. "I said to get back to work." Something sharp sliced out of the walls and impaled Mentor #91 in the gut, he collapsed and gasped for air like a fish out of water. The life slowly left his eyes but his hood remained over his head.

The Mentors swiveled around and stared at the ceiling in fear.

The Voice was still pleasant, "Oops, looks like our old friend over there is injured. How about we go to work while I dispose of him?" The Mentors all quietly agreed and vanished hurriedly in a flutter of their black cloaks.

91 's dying corpse burst into blue flames and he screamed with the last remains of his breath. He was reduced to ashes that floated up and spread across the cell; the cell itself suddenly grew brighter and The Voice sighed in appeal, "That feels much better. I feel as energized as ever." It said.

Normal and sane people feared it.


Mabel was knitting, "Bill," she said, lifting her gaze up to the in-bed man, "do you like yellow or black more?" Waddles slept by her side, his ear would twitch occasionally.

Bill didn't face her and kept staring at the attic's ceiling from his position on Dipper's bed, his eyes were bloodshot and he had a wide frown. Long white banadahes were wrapped around his head; fresh and clean and recently placed.

He hated the bandages. They were uncomfortable and were not only wrapped around his head but around his waist, hips, stomach and practically everywhere. As if he didn't already feel weak enough, he now needed visible signs of how vulnerable he was in this form.

Mabel tried again, thinking he hadn't heard her, "Bill? Do you like—"

"S-shut up." He hissed at her, moody.

Mabel blinked and blew a raspberry at him. She ducked her head and kept knitting.

"S-still as ch-childish as ever I-I see." Bill suddenly commented, his voice monotone.

Mabel shrugged and kept her eyes on her hands, "I guess. Anyway," she put her knitting needles down and walked forward to Bill, "you are going to behave and act…normal, when Dipper gets here, all right?" Bill groaned as if he had been scolded and slowly glanced at her and her serious face. He had only been in the shack for a handful of hours and yet Mabel was treating him as if he were her child or younger brother that constantly needed to be told to "be good" and he absolutely hated it.

"I-I make no pro-promises, Shooting Star." He said, glaring.

Mabel breathed out a sigh of exasperation and took her seat in her chair again, she began knitting and soon enough she had a sweater done. She threw it at Bill and it landed on his face; he shakily brought it down with weak arms and gazed at it. "W-what is i-it?" He was wary.

Mabel rolled her eyes skyward, "It's a sweater, silly! You don't really have any clothes for yourself, I mean, you're wearing a Mystery Shack shirt right now and I thought it would be awesome if I made you something nice like—" she stopped talking and watched Bill toss the sweater onto the floor. Mabel pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, "I don't know why I even try. You're Bill." She sighed and Bill allowed a smirk to cross his chapped lips.

The door to the attic pushed open and Mabel bolted to her feet, ready to push her great-uncles away when Dipper waltzed in with to-go bags and cups in his hands. Mabel smiled in relief, "Dipping-dots! You'll never believe what happened, the guy woke up—" Dipper's peaceful expression crashed and he shoved the food into Mabel's arms before running to his bed.

He gazed at the man and stuck a hand out, "Dipper Pines, paranormal investigator—"

"You're not—" Mabel butted in and Dipper cut her off with a scowl.

Dipper turned back to Bill, "Dipper Pines, paranormal investigator, I am aware that you were asking for help and we received your message. We helped and you are now safe in our home. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" He grabbed a notepad and pen that lay flat on the table beside the beds.

Bill scoffed, "I-I do mind." He wasn't just going to answer Pinetree's nosy questions.

Dipper felt his face fall and he furrowed his brow, "I…uh, understand. You're a private man…demon…?" He shrugged and pretended not to be too disappointed as he dropped the notepad and pen. He folded his arms behind his back and Bill was sharply reminded of Stanford, he looked away from Dipper.

"Can you at least tell us your name?" Dipper asked.

Mabel chirped, "OH! He told me. It's William, right?" She hissed with tight-lips.

Bill didn't look at them but he knew Mabel was glaring at him, waiting for him to agree. "S-sure." He said. He didn't know why he was playing along but he didn't want to return to the Center and if that meant he had to play this stupid game with Shooting Star then so be it. Bill closed his eyes in annoyance and kept his back to them.

Dipper peered at his twin, "Well…he's pretty talkative, huh?" He joked with a funny smile.

Mabel laughed obnoxiously loud, "Haha! You're right there, Broceph!" She suddenly put her hand to her ear and gasped, "I think I hear Grunkle Ford calling for you!"

Dipper's eyebrows knit, "Really? I can't hear anything—" he almost toppled over as Mabel dug her hands into his back to push him out of their room. He stumbled out and opened his mouth to talk only to have the door slam on his face. Mabel breathed a short sigh of relief and dusted her hands off, she inched toward Bill and glared lightly, "You were supposed to be nice to Dipper!"

Bill snorted and eyed her from the corner of his eye, "I-I was. That's t-the ni-nicest I'll ever be t-to that idiot." He told her with a crease between his eyebrows. Truth be told, even if he did try, being "nice" was something he couldn't pull off anymore, it made him grit his teeth and roll his eyes. How humans could be kind to one another without bursting into a fit of rage at their stupidity was beyond him.

He couldn't understand humans and here he lay, weak as one.

Bill tightened his fists by his side and growled throatily.

Mabel played with her sleeve, "Well, maybe you should practice being nice. It isn't that hard." She suggested and bent down to pick up Waddles as he pattered over to her feet, awake from his nap. She cradled him in her arms and exhaled when Bill had turned away from her again. She walked over to her bed and lay Waddles down before opening the bags of food Dipper had left her.

She grabbed a plastic container into her hands and popped open the lid, the smell of pancakes drifted through the room and Bill's stomach grumbled

Mabel glanced up at the sound and smiled cheekily at Bill, "Hungry, huh?"

Bill felt an angry blush creep up his neck, "F-for y-your information, Shooting Star, I a-am a being of pure e-energy wi-with no weaknesses."

"Not right now you're not." Mabel said while picking up a fork from the bag,

If looks could kill, Mabel would've been on the floor as Bill glowered, "I-I'll kill y-you all once I-I regain my strength." He told her without missing a beat.

"Sure you will." Mabel said with a mouthful of Greasey's Diner pancakes.


Dipper knocked on Ford's room--Soos' old break room—and slowly shouldered the door open. Ford looked up from some papers on his desk, a fond smile crossed his stubbly face, "My boy!"

Dipper rubbed a hand behind the back of his neck, "Mabel said you called?" He stepped into the room and the fur carpet brushed past his legs with each step he took. He shivered at the memories of his first summer and his body switching escape with his sister.

Ford gave a small bob of his head, "Why, yes." His expression hardened as he passed a graph-like paper to Dipper, "Tell me, Dipper, does that look strange?" It was a map that had several marks of where cyclones or hurricanes had hit in the world. Dipper squinted at it and his mouth dropped open slightly, an alarming amount of natural disasters littered the world. Hurricanes in deserts and tornadoes in Washington state; it was all wrong and…off.

"Is this accurate?" Dipper asked, looking up at Ford, "Is it real? It's just…hard to believe."

Ford gestured to the window in his room, snow fell outside and coated the grass, "Look around, Dipper, there's snow in summer. Something is happening in the world and it is right under our noses." Dipper ran a hand through his mop of hair and thought for a moment.

"What…what do you think is happening?" He asked.

Ford kept his eyes on the window, "Something that is out of the ordinary, I say something has been knocked off balance…but what?"

"Huh." Dipper said, head tilting at the map in his hands.

A/N: Ooooooooooooooh! And that is a wrap! Next chapter will be coming soon! Have a good day/night!

Next chapter coming soon.