GF Drabbles: Thwarting the Shapeshifter's First Escape
Original Prompt from hereissomething:
[When the Shapeshifter attacks Fids and leaves him in the depths of the bunker, Shifter shuts off the electricity in that area, effectively limiting Fids' possibilities of using technology to contact the Pines. Fids tries to cry out for help, but he is too hurt to make his voice loud enough to be heard past the decontamination chamber. He is also too weakened from Shifter's assault to move his body across the floor to the metal door. Fids is momentarily overwhelmed with fear and pain.
Once Fids gets his wits about him, a brainwave hits: he loudly taps out a distress signal on the nearest water pipe with a rock. Each clang is painful in his ears, as the Shifter kicked him in the head before he left; but Fids grits through it. Fids knows where the plumbing is situated in the bunker, he prays the twins will hear his rhythmic banging through the pipes. Eventually they catch on and seek him out, in spite of Fake Fids' attempts to stall them.
I lost sleep over this and now its 6am.
My lengthened drabble. Enjoy!]
Escape #1.
Fiddleford couldn't blame anyone but himself for what had happened. At least for now. If-when, he had to be positive here or he would surely be dead- when he got out of this he would give Stanley and Stanford an earful. But for now he could only blame himself as he lay on the cold ground of the lab, a shiv made out of a bit of metal sticking out of his belly.
The shape shifter- or Experiment #210 as Stanley had labelled it- had gotten the better of Fiddleford. The research assistant had stayed behind in the bunker to continue work on some data from the lab while Stanford and Stanley had gone up to get some food and relax for a bit. Fiddleford said he would join them when he finished and they had agreed.
He had almost completed his work, his stomach helpfully reminding him of how long it would be since he had last eaten when it happened. He had never trusted the creature that Stanley found, though he'd done his best to "play nice". And it seemed to like him well enough in return.
From day one after hatching it had waited and watched. It's truly inhuman form a constant reminder of what it was until it had gotten a chance to show its skills. Afterward Fiddleford had never seen it as itself unless it was asleep, proving that keeping an alternate form was an active process, at least at some level.
It was a voracious reader and it possessed a quick mind, too quick. Fiddleford always noticed it when the creature tried to be sly; first it was small things. An extra bit of food there, a more advanced book here. It seemed to make a point to take on "attractive forms" during down time; cute children or animals, plants, people. There was an odd affinity for the mascot of a brand of canned beans that Stanley liked.
But lately…lately it had seemed to have its eyes on a bigger prize. In recent weeks there had been more requests for things about the current world: newspapers, postcards or photos of Gravity Falls, maps. This could be excused, or at least Stanley did.
"It's a growing being that we've taken in from the world, it deserves to know about It.", he had reasoned to both Fiddleford and Stanford. They both remained mostly unconvinced. Well, really it was Fiddleford who was unconvinced, Stanford supported him to keep him happy.
So only limited information had been given to the creature. But still, the thirst for useful knowledge remained.
Just the other day…it had asked to see Stanley's journal. Thankfully the studious Pines twin was not a completely naive sap, and also a rather private, slightly paranoid person. So Stanley had refused. The creature hadn't pressed the issue, glibly saying "It was worth a try!" and laughed it off. Stanley had laughed with him and walked away. But Fiddleford had been watching from the corner of his eye and had seen the slit-eyed glare send at Stanley's back. He'd nearly jumped out of his skin when that thunderous gaze was suddenly directed at him.
So he should not have been surprised. Or been so gullible. But he had been distracted and hungry. The creature worked with this to its utmost advantage. It had begun by starting a conversation, lounging in its containment area as that baked beans mascot. It had an odd habit of making sure to take this form when talking to Fiddleford.
It was casual, asking about his day and what he had been working on. Fiddleford had been polite yet vague, like always. But then there was a yelp, sounding like that of a kicked dog. Fiddleford had turned from his calculations, surprisingly concerned. The creature laid curled up on the ground, moaning and yipping. Cautiously Fiddleford had approached, and watched as the shifter shuffled through several forms as it writhed about.
"Fiddleford-"The mascot started.
"-help me." A gnome continued.
"I don't know-"A Venus fly trap began.
"-what's happening!" A child ended.
"Please!" Pleaded the creature itself.
Seeing it's natural form seemed to push him into action, the wrong action. Instead of contacting the others he had rushed into the enclosure. Hoping he could see what it was.
Stupid nerd. Stupid gullible nerd.
As soon as Fiddleford had entered, the creature turned into Fiddleford himself and made motions as if trying to stand. Fiddleford rushed forward to support it and had begun to ask what specifically was the matter. He had barely gotten the first word of the question out when suddenly a sharp pain shot up through his abdomen.
"I'm sorry Fiddleford. I can't let anyone get in my way. Not even you."
Fiddleford collapsed to the ground, tears coming out of his eyes from the pain.
"W-why?" He managed to choke out as he helplessly watched his doppelganger pick up his fallen glasses and place them on his face.
The creature seemed insulted by the question. "Why? You, who is always watching me, can't guess?!"
It stomped over to the smaller man who had begun to bleed upon the floor and towered over him.
"I want out. I want freedom. And I want the journal!"
It grinned a vicious grin and then directed an even more vicious kick to Fiddleford's head. Now it was him who was making the kicked dog sound, he saw stars and ended up shifting in a way that the shiv in his belly went that little bit deeper.
The pain. The horrible, visceral explosion of stimuli passing through screaming nerves. It saved him from unconsciousness. Black spots filled his vision as he watched himself walk away, an uncharacteristic cackle coming from his mouth.
"See you McSuckit! I have a lunch date with your boyfriend and his brother!"
With a final chuckle the creature made its way out of the bunker, but not before flipping the switches. Leaving him in complete, helpless darkness, with the other things that Stanley liked to keep in the lab. Fiddleford tried to scream, but all that came out was a dry rasp. Barely audible enough to reach the decontamination chamber. His head was spinning and full of pain.
He had panicked. He was still panicking. The statistics he had read concerning wounds and bleeding rates during his personal crash course in first aid during his first few days with the twins ran mockingly through his head. He could hear his heart beat in his ears and felt a corresponding trickle of blood leak out of him past the weapon still in his body.
For a moment he gave into despair and simply laid here in a growing puddle of his blood.
"No. No. I won't die like this. I won't let it end like this." A hot stream of righteous anger began to fill him and set some order to his scattered thoughts. He'd teach that creature. And he'd teach the Pines twins to listen to him!
Almost without bid, Fiddleford's brain immediately began going through his medical knowledge. He pressed a hand to his wound, applying pressure to try and stem the bleeding. He left the shiv alone, it was the only thing keeping the rest of his blood from gushing out.
Okay, now he needed to get help. Electronic communication was out, getting out of the bunker was out. He was in no condition to move very far on his own. What to do. What to do-
The pipes.
Stanford, the brilliant cheapskate that he was, had dug into the earth himself and connected the plumbing of the Shack to the bunker. These pipes, though sturdy enough, had this odd echoing affect to them. Even through miles of distance and earth, if one were to knock upon the pipes at one end, it would be heard on the other.
And the twins knew some Morse code.
Fiddleford himself knew an amount himself, one never truly stopped being a student after all.
He still had some time!
With fortitude Fiddleford made his way blindly into the dark, he knew that some pipes were nearby, exposed out of the wall. On his way he came upon a large rock, one of the many things that littered the area of the lab. It would have to do. Eventually he made his way to the pipes. He found a sturdy one and then began his message.
S.O.S IMPOSTER.
The cacophonous clanging of rock on cheap metal crashed against his sensitive head. But he had to ignore it. He had to get a hold of those idiots.
S.O.S. NOT ME
He had to warn them.
CODE BLACK
His shoulder ached. His breath was getting short. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. He would protect his friends. His blood ran warm past his cold fingers.
S.O.S. IMPOSTER.
He would save them. Or die trying.
CODE BLACK.
Stanley blinked. He thought he had heard something. He looked up from his newspaper and looked over at Stanley and Fiddleford. The two were talking, his twin doing his best to try and "flirt" with their newest member with jibes and good natured teasing. But the dynamic seemed a bit off today.
Instead of being embarrassed or playfully acting along, the smaller man seemed bored. Distracted even. His eyes kept scanning the room, and he seemed to make excuses to move about more than usual. Stanford of course didn't seem to notice, just going on with what they were talking about. Trying to corner Fiddleford so to steal a kiss or a grope. The usual. But the other always seemed to slip away, just in time.
But then would say or do something that would keep his brother from giving up. It was odd, but refreshing. Fiddleford was learning to tease…
…now if only they'd do this when Stanley wasn't around. Another time, another place he might have enjoyed the show, and really it was funny to see his brother strike out over and over again, but right now he wasn't really in the mood to watch homoerotic content. Especially the kind involving his twin brother.
With a muted sigh Stanley took a bite of his sandwich and then turned back to his paper, he'd found his place in the current story he was reading when he heard it again.
A clang. And then another. And then another. He remained still, trying to figure out what it was and afraid that he'd lose it if he moved. The more paranoid part of his mind was telling him to listen, so he did.
…STER.
S.O.S. HELP M-
"Stanley!"
The addressed Pines twin jolted as Fiddleford suddenly appeared next to him, an odd grin on his face.
"Uh, yes?"
"You think maybe I could take a look at the journal? I have some data I want to cross reference."
Stanley blinked, confused.
"But I'm in the middle of revising it, remember? Which bit do you need to see?"
He watched as Fiddleford's eyes narrowed the slightest bit, as if in agitation. His smile got a bit harder as he began to respond.
"Well I-"
"Will you two shuddup? I'm trying to listen."
Stanford's voice cut through the room. Its seriousness and gruffness a surprise. Stanley looked over at his twin and noted his stance, it was completely rigid and his hands were half raised. The fingers curled into loose fists. His head was tilted toward the direction Stanley had heard the clanging noise from.
In the now silent room the noise was much more audible.
-O.S. CODE BLACK
IMPOSTER.
IMPOSTER.
Imposter.
"What weird noises. Damn neighborhood kids." Came "Fiddleford's" nonchalant reply.
The Pines twins only had to share a look for a fraction of a second. Something wasn't right. They all knew what those clangs were. And what they meant. Or at least, the three of them knew. The method of emergency communication had been set up long ago.
"How were those calculations you were crunching in the bunker Fidds? I forgot to ask when you came in." Stanley put on a smile and acted his part, the perfect image of causality.
"Fiddleford" blinked, derailed once more.
"Good. I finished them. Mostly-I need to take a quick skim of the journal to be sure."
Stanley narrowed his eyes. Just a bit. That was a lie.
Stanford was already on the move,
"Stanford where are you going?" Called the shape shifter after Stanford, he had gone into the other room. Where Stanley knew he had left his special knuckle dusters.
The clanging had stopped.
The absence of the noise was deafening.
"#201 what did you do?" Stanley's voice was steely.
The shape shifter gave a laugh. His strained grin gaining a psychotic edge.
"Can't you tell? You six-fingered nerd."
The creature began to laugh as it shifted, going back to its default form. It began to roar right in Stanley's face but then the head was smashed to the side. Stanford moved like lightening, his fists flying with anger and power.
"Go check on Fiddleford!" He called over as he tangled with his opponent.
The creature turned into a donkey, much bigger than any real one would be, and immediately charged, Stanford effortlessly jumped on it and the two crashed out of the house. After checking to see that his brother could handle himself and would subdue the creature- thankfully its range of forms was still very limited- Stanley ran off to the bunker.
Thankfully Fiddleford would live to see another day, and both of the Pines brothers were more than happy to hear him rage and scold them.