We drove along the dark highway, burnt yellow street lamps singeing black tar as we went. The inner layout of our car radiated with dots of electric blues and reds from the speed-o-meter, radio, and everything else up front. The vehicle was relatively clean within, aside from a few empty coffee cups and the little Mr. Mystery bobble head that swayed back and forth on the dash.

My hands remained snapped around the steering wheel, straight down the road at 45 mph. I considered finding a radio station. Perhaps listen to a mystery podcast or tune into a news report. Find my next case once this one was finally settled.

"Can I play something?" Mabel beat me to the punch, sliding her phone out of her pants pocket as she worked to untangle the aux cord. I said nothing, only shifting my gaze downwards as she worked to pull up a song.

'Jack Stauber'

'Kane Strang'

'Mother Mother'

'Oliver Tree'

'Silicon Estate'

She scrolled past my few favorites, preferring her selection of Korean boy bands and British pop.

"Mabel, please don't." I groaned, knitting my brows together in annoyance. I reached out to snatch the cord, only for it to move farther away.

"Ah-ah-ah!" She smiled, forcing me to pull back as she wagged a finger. "You're the one that wanted me to tag along."

"Yeah, well you're the one that used to call us the 'mystery twins.'" I faced forward, features hardening as I fought off the urge to scowl.

Oddly enough, Mabel had grown out of being in constant peril. Something about solving mysteries and being chased by monsters of unimaginable horror just wasn't her cup of tea. It wasn't as easy anymore to say, 'Come on, Mabel. We're trudging through the forest at two AM with our flashlights to summon El Diablo. Parental supervision? Hm... Nah.'

As out of character as it seemed, she had a job. A really nice job at that. And a lot of friends. Friends that liked hanging out with her and stealing our time together. It was hard enough with the hours I put in doing my job to see her. The most interaction we got was in the mornings. We didn't have 'free time.' And, even if we did, Mabel didn't feel like spending it poured over ancient texts and wasting six hours crouched behind bushes and trees. That was my thing.

So, we were often bargaining with each other. I'd go to a Vocaloid concert, spend a couple of hours squished between middle aged Otakus and middle school girls, if it meant taking Mabel monster hunting the following week. I had saved up my points, partaking in karaoke instead of bars and rom coms instead of horrors, just to get her to come along.

"I thought you hated being 'mystery twins.'" She giggled, plugging in the aux. I groaned again, being met with the unflattering garble of lyrics and off tempo instrumentals. I twisted the radio's dial, turning the volume way down as she began to jam in her seat.

"So-" She started, grooving along to her third song, shoulders rolling as she did the cabbage patch in her seat. "You never told me what happened on your date-"

My foot slammed into the breaks, forcing her body to lurch forward with a surprised yelp.

"We're here." I said simply, unbuckling my seat belt. Mabel looked at me incredulously, taken aback by my obvious avoidance of the question. She blinked owlishly, only to snap out of it and unbuckle herself. She'd interrogate me later.

We stepped out of the car, a joint shiver going down our spines. Low, chilled mist hung before our feet, mirroring bits of moon light with haunting intent. Graves stuck out of the dirt in dusted slabs of marble and fieldstone, rotting tulips of condolence lying before them. Ravens, black and shaded beneath the night sky, sat perched atop a local church, lights off and entrances hushed.

My fingers ghosted along the hard leather of my holster, an authorized handgun nestling within its confines. I took a breath, peering at Mabel who sported a spare bullet proof vest, her grappling hook held as though a gun of her own.

Not that it was of any significance, but she was technically classified as a civilian. Meaning she was technically not supposed to be wearing police-authorized substance because she was technically not allowed to solve crimes with me anymore since she technically didn't work for the 'GFPD.' Which meant I could technically get fired for this. I held the breath in, steadying my heart beat before letting it out with a huff.

"Let's wait behind the gravestones." I whispered, guiding her to the far end of the field. We crouched behind a Mr. and Mrs. 'Krepner," our backs leaning against the sturdy blocks of marble.

"Alright." My hands went out before me, fingers extended as I readied the plan for her. "The perpetrators should be here in a few hours. We'll wait for them to dig up the body and catch them in the act. When we do, I'll hold them at gunpoint while you pretend to also have a gun. With luck, they'll be caught off guard and we can haul them in without a struggle. It should be a cinch."

"Cool, bro. And then what?" Mabel leaned in, slightly intrigued.

"I'll have to read them their rights." I said.

"And then?" She repeated with emphasis. I frowned at her statement, but complied.

"They'll go on trial and I'll have to testify against them."

"Yeah, alright. But then what?" She rolled her eyes, goading me to give her something kick ass to do, like pull a tombstone piledriver on the guy. I became impatient.

"They'll go to jail and drop the soap." I quickly turned sardonic, much to Mabel's dismay. Her head tilted back, eyes snapping shut in frustration.

"Ughhhhhhhh whaaaaat-?!" She whined. I grimaced, slapping either of my hands over her mouth.

"Mabel!" I hissed, my brows furrowing. Mabel's muffled speech bounced against my palms, but remained otherwise silent. After a moment, I removed my hands.

"Dipper...!" She groaned. "You didn't tell me this was gonna be boring!" She began to move as though she were contemplating getting up. She would do that sometimes if things didn't hold her attention. Like when I tried getting her to watch Monty Python. She pretty much disappeared by the intro. I'm not sure what part of her thought it was okay to flake out now, though.

"Mabel, I swear to Jesus..." My voice was cautious, though edged with a serious warning. This wasn't the time to mess around and quit when she felt like it, and I knew she knew that. It wasn't like I would actually do anything to her, but I could damn well be scary enough to convince her otherwise. I had gotten pretty good at bluffing revenge.

Her face seemed to squint at me, a mix of uncertainty and blunt vexation. A moment more, and she sat back onto her knees.

"I wasn't gonna do anything..." She scoffed, only to add "Jerk." That's how the next two hours were spent, Mabel curled into herself, muttering little insults and half-apologize at me while I took periodic glances over 'Mr. Krepner's' headstone. Once in a while, I'd sigh and look up at the moon, seriously questioning my career choice, only to hear twigs snapping or leaves rustling and be completely pulled back into the thrill.

Around four AM, I could tell Mabel was about to crash... I really hoped I hadn't been wrong about tonight.

"Mabel." I whispered, jostling her shoulder. Her head snapped up with a groggy jolt, drool sliding down the side of her lip.

"Huh?" Her eyes were lidded, drooping with obvious drowsiness.

"Lie down in the car. I'll keep a look out from the field."

"But what about..." Her head began to tilt, eyes closing.

"Hey." I snapped my fingers, coercing her back to consciousness. "If they show up, you can catch them from behind while I target the front." She looked at me for a moment, not awake enough to sort out my words instantly.

"O...kay." Her head sloshed to the side, looking over the tombstones with a comical little peek, only to force herself to her feet as she trudged her way to the car. She pulled out the keys, pressing a button that lit the mobile up at her approach, and I couldn't help but hiss at the brightness of it all. I had no doubt she had fallen asleep the second her face hit the car cushions.

That was when I heard the voices.

"Pst. The coast is clear. Wake up, guys." Came a smug, young voice. I tensed, impelling myself to remain still. Shock coursed through my veins, a rigid gasp just barely pinned down within my gut. They had been here all along. My hand went to my holster to reassure myself of the bit of power I would have over them. Slow, cautious steps came from within the graveyard's local church, switching from the clipped march across wooden flooring to the slick crunch of dew-ridden grass.

I hoped they wouldn't see me before their intentions could be confirmed. I dared myself to suck in a shallow breath. Leaning beyond the stones, I made out the simple tufts of reddened hair. Although that was all I could see, I knew he wasn't alone.

"Alrighty, then. Who's picking this one?" Said the voice. The subtle rubbing of hands together could be heard. An excited gasp escaped one of them.

"Oh! Me! Me! Me!" One of them chirped. A collective 'shush' was pointed at them.

"Not so loud, dumbass. The cop's right there!" My heart seemed to plummet, only to realize who they were talking about.

They must have thought Mabel was one... No way in Hell. I couldn't help but smile to myself, peeking at them with mild confidence as I got a better look. This one was a girl. Around 5'4. Probably seventeen or eighteen. Sturdy, but most-likely slow. From the way she trotted, she was also visibly tired. That probably meant they all were.

"This one, guys! Let's do this one!" She pointed at a grave, giggling helplessly at the tombstone. "Look at what their name was! Hee-hee!"

"Mr. Butts?!" One of them blurted out. The group quickly surrounded it, snickering and making half-assed jabs. I could definitely add 'dim witted' to their description. The laughter eventually died down, and the low shifting of bodies on dirt followed. Scratching. The collective scratching of dirt and squishing of mud and ripping of roots as a dozen hands began to dig the body up. I relaxed a bit, knowing they'd be at it for a while.

"Shit! Another nail..." One of the girls whined.

"Will you zip it already?"

"Oh, screw you Liam. It's not like you'd understand." My ears perked up. 'Liam.' That was one name down.

"What's wrong with you? Got mud up your cooter?" The slinging of mud followed, causing 'Liam' to gasp.

"What the fuck, Kim?! I was just joking. Sheesh..."

'Kim.' There was the second one. I sighed softly, slipping down against the grave as time passed. They became absorbed in their work, only letting out small groans and grumbles of protest. The night moved on, fatigue and impatience sinking in despite myself. Without knowing it, I was beginning to drift away, only for the unmistakable thumb of a body hitting thick mud to startle me back to life.

"Finally... Jesus Christ, this was an ugly dude."

"Ugh. No kidding. He looks like an over-ripe squash." I began to lean on my elbow, trying to get a look at what the group was seeing, only to be met with backs blocking my view. Then, the glint of metal against moonlight. I was confused, seeing one of the boys hold what looked to be a silver strip of metal in his right hand, hoisted up and bare. It wasn't until they bent down that I understood what they were holding.

'That's a knife...'

"GFPD, put your hands in the air!" I jumped up from behind the gravestone, gun in hand, pointed directly at the group ahead of me. The teens snapped their heads at me, both shocked and afraid, only to stand and block my view of the body.

"Shit! Liam, speed it up!" One of the girls shouted, turning her head to speak over her shoulder. I grimaced, knowing exactly what he was doing.

"Step away from the body, kids." I let out firmly, my eyes hardening. I tried my hardest not to let on that I was shaking. There was no way in hell I was shooting a bunch of highschoolers. Not with lethal intent, at least. They remained planted before me, their fear quickly turning into hatred.

"Who you calling kids? You don't even look ten years old."

"Yeah, you fucking cop. Why don't you go eat a donut, dumb bitch?" They laughed. I looked at them stone faced, aiming just above one of their heads and firing off my gun as a warning. They screamed, ducking down.

"Asshole!" One shouted.

"Hurry it up, Liam!" I held myself back, only restrained by the possibility of a concealed weapon among the group. They couldn't be so dumb that they'd actually come without some kind of fire arm, right? The hold up lasted for only a few seconds, though it felt much longer. Soon, Liam was bouncing to his feet, body drenched to the forearms in transparent fluids. I couldn't help but scowl.

"What the hell even...?" The guy didn't look disturbed by his own appearance, nor did any of his team mates shy away from his form as he slipped ahead of the group.

"Evening, officer!" And with that, he tried to play it off like nothing had happened. I almost laughed at his stupidity. He smiled awkwardly, sweat dripping down his face as he lifted a shaky hand to wave at me. I decided to play along.

"It's a bit late for a couple of teenagers to be wandering out at night, don't you think?" I tried not to crack a smile, but by the way this guy was relaxing, I couldn't help myself. He really thought I was that dumb.

"Oh, is it?" He feigned innocent, and for a moment I wondered if he even knew that his crimes were so well known. I guess a kid like him wouldn't keep up with the news. "I hadn't noticed." This time, I did laugh.

"What are you holding behind your back?" I smirked at him, my head cocked to the side with a smug tilt. Liam paled.

"N-nothing! Nothing at all, officer-"

"Show me your hands."

"Well... Well, put your gun down."

"You first." He gulped, eyes going to stare at his own feet.

"Don't shoot me..." With that, he pulled it out from behind him.

Holy shit.

A head. A whole fucking head, held up by the tufts of its thin hair. They had been right to call it an 'over-ripe squash.' Its head was like a bowling pin, pulled in at the middle and sagging everywhere else. Long, rotted teeth sprouted gapped along spoiled grey gums. An open mouth, hanging wide in perpetual anguish as the cheek skin continued to stretch and pull.

Paled-pink flesh seemed to be dotted red around the cheeks, as though an open casket funeral could be saved by the use of cheap blush and eyelashes. I couldn't tell if it was a deformed baby head or what those 'real cost of vaping' commercials were warning everyone about, but the thing was bat-shit ugly.

"Please, don't shoot me..." Liam said again, louder this time. I had been so shocked by the head, I forgot where I was for a moment. I looked at the boy, his face vacant and almost unaware of his surroundings. But I knew. I knew this was an act. If he couldn't get away with defiling a grave, he could at least plead insanity.

'Oh please don't do it Mr. Judge it was the voices in my head.'

I growled at him. "Put the head down. Hands up." I made it apparent I had no sympathy for him or any of his accomplices. This shit was disgusting. Liam's lip twitched, staring at me for a bit too long. He turned to look at his friends, all of whom had the same expression: Blank. His eyes shifted back towards me, a primal conflict of 'Fight or Flight' distorting his features.

"Don't shoot my friends."

"Put the damn head down, Liam." He froze, looking at me like I had said something funny. A smile began to break out across his face.

"Yeah..." Liam said. "Okay." The head fell to the ground with a sickening thud, causing me to cringe at the sight.

I could feel the corner of my lips tug up in a sneer. He dropped it like a sack of potatoes. I chanced a step forward, my eyes remaining trained on him and his group, only to see his hand slip into the front pocket of his hoodie.

"Hey!" I barked, instantly thrown off by the subtle action.

That was all it took.

Liam's leg pulled back, looking at me in concentration before bringing his foot forward and making contact with the head. It was a powerful kick, lifting it off the ground and hurling it straight at me. It was a pathetic attempt at distracting me, forcing me to falter and giving them time to break away. Any other day, it wouldn't have worked.

But my nerves were shot. I had been up all night, crouching. Waiting. Completely wound up and pumped with adrenaline. My hand was going to pull the trigger, and I was going to shoot something. I just couldn't force myself to make it one of them.

Bang!

My gun was pointed right at the head, causing it to spin in mid air as a loose bullet smacked into it. I shot the head. Like a complete fucking idiot, I shot it. I watched in shock, anxiety and disturbance crawling along my skin, as the head slid against the ground to lie at my feet.

Its left eye had been shot out.

And, just as I looked up, the boy made his move to reach into his front hood. I couldn't speak, fumbling to bring my gun back in place between sweating palms. Just as I did though, he pulled it out. A thin, stony noodle arm, broken off and held firmly between his hands. I couldn't help but freeze.

'Is that...?' In one swift motion, Liam chucked the arm right at me, making flawless contact with my head.

Everything went dark afterwards.