The flash drive was light; weightless in hand, but ominously prevoking. Dipper held it, biting his lip cautiously while waiting for his laptop to power on. Once it did, Bill and he would pour over the footage like nothing else, examining every detail. Each pause and person; every inch of the screen, searching for what happened to miss Lass.

"God, kid. You're computer's as slow as you are." Bill whined, leaning forward to swirl his finger along the mouse pad. Dipper was anything but pleased by his advance, feeling Bill's left hand rest on his thigh as he poked at his laptop. With a venomous glint, he slapped at Bill's left hand. The slight pinch of his inner thigh before retreating did not go without notice, but instead without acknowledgement. He pushed away the hand that picked fun at his device, he himself repeatedly pressing the spacebar as they waited.

"When have I ever given the impression of being slow, jackass?" He used his elbow as a wedge, nudging Bill's tilting body to a distance. "Why not bring your own damn laptop if you're in such a rush?"

"Not a chance. You might type 'P' in the search bar." Dipper scoffed, though the back of his mind grew unsettlingly curious. After a moment, Dipper shook his head, deciding he didn't want to know. The screen blinked brightly, flashing white then blue with the dead burn of electricity. Right away, the fan kicked in, and the laptop's dying cries became known by the weight of it's harty groans.

"Real charmer you got there." Bill joked, nudging him playfully. Dipper scowled back.

"Fuck you."

"Is that a request?" Dipper's raised middle was response enough, plugging the drive into an empty slot, waiting for the data to fuel into his prehistoric hunk of junk. He really needed a new laptop. But, he also needed drinking money, and no way in hell was he pussying out and asking Pacifica to cover his tab. It wasn't very manly, for one. And, it was always awkward asking someone for cash at a bar. Unless you were giving out hand jobs at least, to some creep in a fur coat and gold chains of all things, there wasn't any real reason to buy you a drink. He'd learned that long ago. Hell, some pimp in his mid-forties would've been balls deep in his ass behind a McRonald's just three weeks ago if Pacifica hadn't popped up with a little extra green to spare. Which was good, because he was almost drunk enough to consider the guy's offer. Almost.

Slowly, very slowly, a black screen began to flicker into and out of existence, only to solidify and transform into some kind of file tab. One document lazily labelled '10:49.23.M4V,' making Dipper sigh mindlessly. He knew what would happen if he pressed the file, but still complied reluctantly. As expected, the screen sputtered, glitched, and buzzed anxiously as its virus-infected monitor fought against illness to display the video. His laptop wasn't used to displaying motion based files beyond short gifs. Too much strain on the motor. Wonderful.

"I think I see something..." Bill leaned in again, squinting at the screen with a face of expectation; fake hope. Then, he flopped back in his chair, arms folded, pulling a disappointed look. "Nevermind. It's just your firewall lying down for 'The Big Sleep.'"

"Whatever." Dipper shot darkly, avoiding his gaze.

"Hey, so I gotta know: When you jerk off to porn in 144p-."

"Are you gonna do this all night?"

"I always do it all night."

"Right. Great. Please, shut the hell up." The screen flickered once more, only for a white arrow with the backdrop of a dark street to come into view.

"Took you long enough-." Dipper shushed at him sharply, urging him to quiet down as he clicked 'play.' The video was set outside a grocery store, three days prior to miss Lass's disappearance. Beneath the relentless grain of static and ever moving figures came an old woman hobbling into view.

"That's her..." Bill mumbled with an odd grin. Some kind of excitement that built up behind his golden cheeks, spreading across his body and into his brain. Being stuck in stone was like nothing he'd experienced before. Time moved slowly. And, yes. He could sense the time. He thought he'd been around long enough for its pull to fade from his concept of understanding. Wrong. Very wrong. It stuck around, ripping at his bricks and tugging at his bowtie. Anything would have been more entertaining. Including this. It was pacing, but not through boredom. Anticipation. He almost scowlded himself for never giving the thrill a chance. Letting things evolve was rather fun to watch.

"Yeah..." Dipper hummed back. He scooted forward in his seat, elbows propped up and eyes expecting; observing. He didn't so much as blink, watching her grey figure choppily glitch across the screen, into the store. The camera view switched, transporting the two into an aerial view display of the store's maze-like shelves. Row upon row of cans, bags, bottles, and boxes, strategically placed for consumption. In the mist of the store's stark white isles, miss Lass examined the cleaning supplies, picked at a few grapes in an unsealed bag, and circled a free sample booth four times before getting her fill and kindly declining the sales woman's offer. Nothing out of the ordinary. There was a point in which Bill and Dipper became anxious, watching her old body scurry down the canned isle. But, she only looked, picked up a can of vegetable soup, and set it back on the shelf with a shallow look of disinterest. In fact, her cart was completely void of any canned items. No beans.

"He's following her." Bill commented aloud. Dipper jumped, cutting his complex thoughts off as he turned to look at where Bill's finger pointed.

"Who?" He simply got closer, tapping the screen with his index to draw Dipper's attention near.

"Him." Bill responded simply. There, at the end of the frozen isle, cut in half by the screen, was a man dressed in black. A dark hoodie, black pants, and jet black hair stood, turned away from the woman, mindlessly reading the labelled price of king crab, seemingly added to the normal scene out of convenience. Miss Lass turned the corner, rubbing her arms as the isle's chill bit into her skin. She exited from the left. And, without a sign of acknowledgement- a glance up or the shifting of position- the man exited right, once again trailing her at the other end of the isle. He carried no items, shopping cart or bag, simply examining each product in his instant view, grabbing it, turning it around, and putting it back before exiting the isle opposite of her.

"I've never seen him before. Maybe a tourist?"

"Maybe a murderer."

"Yeah, no shit." Dipper paused the video, zooming in on the suspect's face.

"Why's he following her, though?"

"To murder?"

"But, why?"

"Does everything have to have a reason with you?" Dipper scoffed in annoyance, playing the video once more, though his comment rang a strange truth within him. Murderers really didn't need a reason, did they? No. They really didn't. Miss Lass became still, looking to the left of her, then the right, searching for something out of view. Her hands began to fidget, tapping against the cart's bar, only to catch sight of her desired request: a restroom. She scurried off, parking her cart by the outside of the door, quickly entering as the last bit of her dignity clipped away. And, with a sly glance across the room, the mysterious man followed, dipping in with a smirk.

"Looks like we've got a peeping Tom on our hands." Bill mused, tilting his body to brush against Dipper's shoulder. Mindlessly, Dipper tilted back, pressing against it, only to lean away with a start.

"Yeah. It's too bad they don't have cameras in the bathrooms."

"Oh~. Is that so-?" Bill leaned in. Dipper leaned away.

"Fuck off."

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to be a little nicer to your partner." He pulled a pout, giving a hurt expression that was far too genuine to be real. In Bill's case, at least.

"Trust me. It would."

"Don't be such a bully, dumpling. 'Tis the season, right?"

"Bill, it's July." That seemed to be the end of it. He looked back at the screen, tapping his finger against his chin as he waited for the man to come out, drenched in blood, dragging the old woman's corpse out the door and into her car, where he'd chuck her in her trunk and drive it into the lake. Of course, that wouldn't explain who the hell they'd been talking to the day of her disappearance, or why they looked and sounded just like her, or what those fingerprints were all about. But, baby steps. Baby steps.

Another thirty minutes were eaten out of the video, but neither individual exited the bathroom. And, oddly enough, plenty of people entered and left just fine. Some wiping their wet hands on their jeans, others holding their younger's hand, all calm and passive. As though a murder hadn't even taken place. "This movie sucks." Bill complained. Dipper remained silent, still watching the screen. A woman- large, ridiculously large- exited the stalls. Someone far too big to be forgotten. They hadn't even seen her enter. She seemed to squeeze out of the door, her fat almost molding into a rectangular shape just to leave. Her stature was comical to say the least, considering that door should not have let her pass. In fact, her shoulders themselves were too broad even when bunched up. Still, her jiggling belly rolled out on the other end, morphing like puddy to cookie cut her way out.

"Oh, wow! Are we watching 'Big Momma's House?'"

"How the hell did I know you were gonna say that?"

"You were thinking it, too? It's like we're linked at the mind!" Bill faked swooning, clutching his heart as he went. "We must be destined for each other!" He threw an arm around Dipper's shoulder, falling against him with over exaggerated yearning. Bill placed the back of his hand against his forehead, lying his head on the edge of Dipper's thigh, expression overdone and posing. "Veux-tu m'épouser?"

Against his own wishes, Dipper actually laughed, shooing Bill away from him. "Stop fooling around." He snorted, turning his attention back to the monitor. When he did, the lingering waste of his loose smile was instantly wiped away. His flesh went cold as he watched the woman lumber into the canned foods isle and grab armfuls of beans. Not even discreetly. She waddled away, carrying load upon load of 'Baron Num Nums High Flyin' Beans' to the counter, clattering cans raining over the floor as the check out girl worked with haste.

"That's odd..." Dipper hummed.

"Guess we know where she gets her size from." Dipper's eyes shifted expectantly back to the bathroom, waiting for the man to exit with an ax in hand, Miss Lass's severed head clenched between closed fingers. No such luck. Instead, the woman jammed her fat fingers into her purse, grabbing blindly at the contents for a solid three minutes. A wallet surfaced, and she dumped the cash on the cashier's scanner before taking a brisk stroll out the door. She received a few glancing eyes, small whispers around the room, pointing and scoffing and scowling at her unorthodox behavior. Outside of that, everything was normal. The last forty minutes consisted of ordinary shoppers reaching for shelves and tugging their disobedient children around. Miss Lass never exited the bathroom. And, as the store neared a close, someone found her shopping cart and returned each item to their respective shelf.

The video went off with a click, leaving the two stranded in the dark confinements of the laboratory. Bill's ears perked up, noting the rhythmic bounce of Dipper's knee as he shook just slightly from the action. Dipper's fingers rested at his chin where he mindlessly rolled his middle and index along his hairless skin, massaging and molding the flesh around. His eyes remained fixated just ahead of him, caught up in a memory he couldn't quite recall.

"What're you thinking, Einstein?" Bill didn't lean in this time. Instead, he hooked his foot along the poll of Dipper's swivel chair, pulling him closer as he did. Dipper didn't so much as flinch at the proximity, retaining his position of contemplation.

"That lady... She was a bit large, wasn't she?"

"You're being nice with it, buddy. Don't be. She was fat." Bill deadpanned. Dipper only hummed thoughtfully, nodding his head as the comment faded into his mind.

"Yeah... Yeah, she was." He went silent again, tapping his chin as his eyes continually faded in and out of consciousness. He was repeatedly being sucked in by deep thought, though staying mindful of his surroundings as he did. "And, those guys never came out."

"You think she ate 'em?" Bill snorted.

"Maybe... No, no. That doesn't seem right. I don't think she ate them."

"Then, what else could have happened?" Bill propped his head up with his palm, draping one of his legs over Dipper's. "You think they bippity-boppity-booed themselves into looking like some fat chick?"

"No, I-" Dipper paused, realizing what Bill had just suggested. "Wait..." His eyes darted down, looking left to right, brow furrowed as his pupils grew dense and sharp. Something disconnect clicked within the confines of his brain, and a theory came to light. "Holy-!" He covered his mouth in astonishment, eyes blown wide as he stood from his seat, looking at Bill as though to ask for confirmation. "Holy shit!" He blurted, hand moving from mouth to clasp the tufts of his brown curls. The dots were starting to connect.

"Oh! There it is! Whatcha got for us, puppy?" Dipper didn't bother to acknowledge the pet name, or the condescending atmosphere of his tone. He was livid, standing then sitting then standing again, circling the desk to pull at one of his drawers. A large plastic tub was thunked on the wooden surface, clamped shut with a plastic top. He popped it off anxiously, fingers expertly dancing along the organized filing within. 'S' His fingers roamed through 'S,' only to slip out a specific file and shove everything else off his desk, laying the contents out proudly.

"That's it. He- he's been stealing people's places! Their identities! That explains the fingerprints! That's why the prints weren't perfect matches! The guy couldn't possibly copy them perfectly! No, that-! It's impossible." Dipper shuffled the files around, mindlessly flipping page to page, scanning over pictures, taking short mental note of bullet pointed facts, grinning foolishly at the display. "When they went into the bathroom- That woman had entered! But-!" He whipped around to face Bill, grabbing him by the shoulders to pull him closer. "She was the man!"

Bill's face couldn't possibly have looked more pleased with Dipper's crazed mood. He beamed, catching a glimpse of the electric buzz that shot through Dipper's expression, joyous and hyper and insane. Bill wrapped an arm around his waist, taking a chance and pulling the boy closer. Dipper didn't pull back, but instead continued to gush. "He's a shapeshifter, Bill! The guy's been offing his victims to take their place! That's why the fingerprints don't match up! That's why the woman was able to enter and exit the bathroom! That's why-!" He stopped, looking up at Bill.

His hand was on his ass.

"Why what?" Bill cooed, tightening his grip around Dipper's waist. His piercing black eye bore into Dipper's flesh, burning a hole into his subconscious. Because, this didn't feel wrong. This didn't feel clunky or unnatural like with Wendy. This didn't feel like when John was trying to get in his pants, back his freshman year. This didn't feel like anything. It just felt-. Something deep inside him was trying to knock down a heavily locked door. Claw at the wooden frame. Fight against the guilt of desire and self-imposed expectations. To climb its way to the top and surface inside of him. Slowly, very slowly, the knob began to turn. Dipper kneed Bill in the crotch, and the knob stopped turning.

"Quit playing, dude. This is serious." He growled at Bill's crumbled form, cupping his groin, laughing all the while.

"F-uck, kiddo. Can't give a guy a break, can you?" Bill looked up, smiling shamelessly with his hand still between his legs. Somehow, it made Dipper feel inferior. He watched the man continue to giggle, the stimulating pain so unpleasant it made him absolutely giddy. He'd never experienced something so alien! Did these things always feel like this? It was big fun, if that was the case. Maybe he'd take the thing for a test drive one day. Might give him a new hobby to look forward to. That is, if his vessel could even experience that kind of sensation. In all honesty, he hadn't tested out all the kinks yet. The thing didn't need food, water, sleep. Hell, he didn't even use the bathroom. He'd give it a go, though. Later.

"Were you even listening? I said the thing's a Shapeshifter, Bill! The guy transformed into hungry Kaonashi from fucking 'Spirited Away,' swallowed that old lady's body, and regurgitated her in the back of her car. Doesn't that spark even a little interest in you?"

"So, she did eat them!" Bill cheered, the pain subsiding as he did so.

"Yes! No! Ugh, what the hell, Bill?" Dipper face palmed himself, mumbling into his hand with remorse for everything that led his life in this direction. He wasn't sure why he had to go through this. "People are dying."

"Everyone dies, sweet cheeks. It's just a matter of time."

"Lovely." Dipper sneered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Who gave a shit what that guy thought, anyways?

The next day was spent reviewing a wide range of video footage. But by this point, the target was a gold coin under one of three cups, constantly shuffling around and changing directions. They came in black, and left white. Opened female, closed male. Red to blue hair. Freckles to scars. Tall to short. Fat to thin. Juggling, juggling, juggling the names of missing youths, adults, and pets. A frightening list piled up. In some, the victims entered the store and never left. Other cases they remained untouched, simply used as reference for the shapeshifter's next look, leaving none the wiser. A kind of mental fuck when you saw two Larry Himers exit Walblart at different time intervals, acting casual as they carried their concealed groceries.

It went on like a line of dominoes, swapping from cats to dogs to adults to children, a seemingly endless cycle of switching and changing. Until, finally, there came a pause in the process. A halt where it would sleep, eat, and leave for another day. Another victim to grab from. In an abandoned mansion, no less. Because, this was Gravity Falls. Of course they had creepy ass shit like that. And that's exactly where the two were headed. They stepped out of Dipper's car, dark clouds looming over the mansion against the ever present blue of the summer sky. It was a comedic contrast, viewing the ominous building in shady greys and purples, washed out against the chipper backdrop of sunlight. It was half-suspected of the two to see lightning strikes and hear a distance organ play a macabre tune.

"Looks like someone could use some TLC." Bill whistled at the mess beyond chained bars, placing his hands on his hips as he shook his head with a tut. "What a dump."

"Five bucks says it's haunted." Dipper offered. Bill only laughed.

"Five bucks says you're scared."

"Five bucks says you're full of shit." Dipper snarled at him, walking ahead to examine the chained fence. Bill stood for a moment, watching Dipper hold the rusty lock in his hand in need of a key, only to yank at it fiercely and snap the decayed metal in half. The chains had been snapped around the bars for so long, it wouldn't have been that hard to make a dent in the brittle substance. But, still. It was a beautiful sight to watch.

"Five bucks says you're right." Bill shrugged with a smirk, moving to be side by side with him. "Real tough guy, huh?"

"Only compared to you."

"It's cute, you think there's even a comparison." Bill sighed fondly, patting the younger on the back. Dipper openly shied away from the contact, glaring as his form shrivelled up.

"Don't touch me." He spat. Bill's smile widened. He looked like he was going to comment on the statement- something snarky and cold blooded- only to hear quick footsteps approaching them from behind.

"Hey! Stop! Don't go in there!" A meek, pretty voice was gaining on them, shot with heavy breaths and endless panting. "Don't go in! Don't go in!" Young, female, and sweetly innocent, the tone rang with broken fear. The partners turned around just in time to see the little body scurt to a stop and run straight into Dipper's legs, unable to counteract their full inertial. A little girl clad in a light pink dress, with curly blond hair tied back in a bow. The picture of innocence. She looked up at the two with bright blue eyes, clutching onto Dipper's pant leg.

"Don't go in there, mister! Don't go in!" She babbled, shaking her head with haste. "If you go in there-! I-if you go in there-!" The little girl quickly grew frantic.

"Hey, hey! Whoa. Calm down, okay? What's wrong?" Dipper soothed, beginning to kneel down to be level with her. Bill gripped at his arm though, keeping him up right. He held a cold glare.

"Who are you, kid?" Bill asked, watching her suspiciously. She didn't answer, shaking her head before burying her face in his pant leg once more. "Oh, you can't go in! Y-you just can't!" Bill began to bend down, trying to pry the crying child from Pinetree's leg.

"Hands off the merchandise, pal." He placed his fingers against her forehead, working to nudge her small body away. Dipper elbowed him with a new found distaste, shooting him a rotten look.

"Don't be a piece of crap, Bill. What the heck is wrong with you?" The kid couldn't have been more than eight, short even for her age, and undeniably frantic. How could Bill be so cruel? He looked back down at the girl, kneeling, this time without Bill's opposition. He did, however, scowl at the back of Dipper's head. For a moment, he couldn't wait for his chance to kill the kid. His severed head would look fantastic on his mantle. But, easy Bill. Easy. No need to rush things.

"Do you live around these parts?" The concerned look on Dipper's face absolutely disgusted Bill. The concept of human emotions in general was disgusting, and they always made Bill's empty stomach queasy. But, for some reason, when he witnessed Dipper of all people express something so vulnerable and weak, he felt a strange pinch in his gut. Like he'd been punched. Like he'd been betrayed. The kid was too human.

"U-uh-huh." She spoke after several seconds of plain sobbing, rubbing her eyes with the balls of her hands, nodding her head pitifully. Dipper's brow pinched up, looking at her with soft worry. Bill could have wretched.

"What's your name? Where are your parents?"

"They-they're at ho-me. I tol-old them th-at I'd be a-a-at the par-park." The girl choked relentlessly on her cries, swallowing and drooling and rubbing at her runny nose, shaking violently. "I-I'm Abby."

"We're doing grown up work, Abs. Beat it, will you?" Bill growled lowly, his icy glare not going unnoticed by Dipper.

"Seriously, Bill? What gives? You wanna be a total jerk, then just head inside. I'll meet you there."

"No! No, you can't go! Please, please don't go in there! There's a monster!" Abby's hands pulled at his shirt sleeves, urging him to look into her frightened eyes and understand the full weight of the situation. "If you go in there, he'll eat you!"

"Look, kid-."

"Bill, I swear." Dipper's eyes snapped shut, brow wrinkling as his face morphed into perpetual annoyance. He took a breath, sighing softly, only to open his eyes again and look at Abby with tight hope. "It's okay, Abby. It's okay.There aren't any monsters in there."

"Yes, there are! And, he'll- he'll-!"she cut herself off with a whine, throat strained with the hurt stretch of tears. She shook her head, wiping away another tear before looking back at him.

"No, hey. No, it's not a monster. It's a..." He paused, looking to Bill for ideas. When all he did was stick his tongue out and pout, Dipper rolled his eyes. "It's a rat. A really, really big rat. And we were called in to get rid of it." Dipper hoped that would soothe her crying just a little, but it only seemed to work against her.

"You're wrong, mister! You are! Please, don't do it! Please, stay away from him!" She worked herself into a panic, tugging at his sleeves and bawling her eyes out. "If you don't-!"

"He'll eat us." Bill huffed boldly. Dipper grit his teeth, looking up at him with such condensed fury, he could have easily set anyone on fire. Anyone else. "That sure is scary, little girl." Bill began to bend down very slowly, eye pierced with the accusing glare of an interrogator. What game was this girl trying to play? "And, you know what? You're probably right... He will eat us, won't he?"

"Don't listen to my partner-."

"He'll grind our bones into paist and eat our hearts."

"Shut up, Bill!" Dipper went to clap a hand over his mouth. When he did, Bill didn't so much as hesitate before biting into his soft skin, relishing the wonderful sink of teeth in flesh, iron against tongue, wet against dry. He'd have to remember that. Dipper yelped, holding back a stream of curses as his thumb pressed against the throbbing mark. "You-."

"And then-." Bill leaned forward. "When he's had his fill-." His eye met the little girl's shaking orbs, primal and territorial as he seemingly crept up on the child. Those eyes looked so innocent, didn't they? But, only a true master of the mind could deduct someone's character. That girl was a troublemaker. He pulled his arms above his head like a taxidermy bear fixated in attack mode, looming over the child evilly. "He'll come for you!"

The little girl screamed in tears, racing away from the heartless man in a flash of pink. She ran across the street, turned a corner, and disappeared from view. Bill stood up laughing, even as Dipper repeatedly whacking him on the head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why'd you do that?!"

"Why do you think? We're working with a shapeshifter, genius. You think some cute little toddler's just gonna fall into your arms and beg you not to arrest the piece of shit lurking in that mansion's attic? Really? On what day? Grow up, princess."

"Don't call me a fucking princess. It doesn't hurt to have a little compassion one in a while."

"Are you having some kind of a stroke? Who gave you the right to preach to me about compassion? You're as heartless as they come!"

"Only to shit-eating know-nothings that keep fucking with my work!"

"Boohoo! I touched your microscope! I stole your seat! Anything else you wanna bitch about? Or, do you feel like getting off the Opera-shit and acting like an adult?"

"I am an adult! You're the one fucking around all the time!"

"Bullshit. I call bullshit. You're a brat."

"I am not-!" Dipper was close to exploding, eyes snapped shut, looking to the ground with a raised fist, ready to knock some sense into the guy just ahead of him. He took a sharp breath, head snapping up as he stared daggers at Bill. "You know what? Fuck it. Fuck you. 'Cause, once the whole 'Bill Dilemma' is solved, we'll never have to see each other again."

"Not unless I marry your sister." Dipper whipped back his fist, only to follow through as his knuckle made perfect contact with Bill's cheek bone.