Author Note: This is also cross-listed on my Tumblr account.

Chapter 1: Of Long Long Lost Twins and Meetings in Dark Alleys

Stanford Pines and Fiddleford Mcgucket hurried quickly down the sidewalk, occasionally one would through a glance their shoulder and speed up a little. They had come into Portland to get some supplies for the portal and due to the fact toxic waste is not exactly legal to sell, they had to go to some… well, unsavory characters to get it.

At this point Stanford was really starting to wish he had waited until the next day to check out the goods or at least driven instead of walking.

The street lights flickered ominously as he cast another glance over his shoulder. They were still being followed. About four minutes or so ago a group of five men had fallen into step behind them. Stanford had no doubt that they meant trouble. He really wanted to start running, but he feared that would cause them to be jumped immediately.

They rounded a corner the group behind them falling out of sight for a moment. There was an alley with a large dumpster. Stanford grabbed Fiddleford's hand and dragged him into the ally where they crouched down behind the dumpster. The other group went by chuckling and talking in low voices.

When he couldn't hear them anymore, Stanford stood up. He tried to steady his rough breathing and heard Fiddleford also suck in a deep breath beside him. They approached the exit of the alley ready to find an alternative route home. A shadow fell over them.

"Aw, did you really think you could through us off?" The man asked condescendingly.

Stanford couldn't get a good look at his face, but his eyes glinted evilly in the light. He had a bulky muscular build, and smelled of smoke and battery acid.

Stanford brought up his fists, he had no doubt about the man's attentions. It had been years since he had boxed, but it was worth a try.

"Cute," the thug said to the tall wiry man to his left. "He thinks he can fight me."

Stanford growled a little. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Fiddleford getting ready for the fight, a board he must have found in the alley in hand. Fiddleford might be a gentleman most of the time, but he was really scrappy when he felt like it. Stanford had to hold him back from seeking retribution on more than one occasion back in college. Right now, though, he could tell his friend was just as scared as him. Their odds were not looking good right now.

The man smiled menacingly and advanced, his friends right behind him.

Stanford and Fiddleford managed to put up a descent fight, but in the end they were outnumbered and fighting against a lot more practice than they had.

Stanford groaned as he leaned up against the wall, head throbbing from a hard blow. Fiddleford his arm looped over Stanford's shoulder to stay upright.

Stanford still took a little comfort in the fact that they managed to give out a few black eyes and bruises.

Just then he heard footsteps outside the alley.

"Help!" he managed to call out.

The lead thug wacked him and turned to face the passerby. Creating enough of an opening that Stanford could see him.

He was wearing a ratty pair of jeans and had a red coat on, hood pulled up so his face was in shadow. His build was stocky and strong, if a little soft around the middle.

"Why don't you move along and stay out of this," the thug growled at the passerby.

Stanford realized the man had stopped and was staring at him. As their eyes met the stranger drew in a sharp breath and straightened up, his gaze shifting from Stanford to his assailants.

"Why don' you let them go," the man growled, hands slipping into his pockets.

The voice was inexplicably familiar, but Stanford couldn't quite place it.

"Back off this ain't your business."

"Well I'm makin' it mine."

The man's hands reemerged from his pockets clenched into fists. Something glinted in the streetlight and Stanford realized he was wearing brass knuckles.

The lead thug signaled and one of his cronies charged the man. The stranger shifted into a boxer's stance and made short work of the man. Duck, jab, dodge, hard left hook. Brass knuckle clad fists made a hard crack against bone.

At this point the rest of the thugs decided that the stranger was actually going to be trouble.

They pulled away from Stanford and Fiddleford and began to close in on the other man.

As he dropped back into a fighting stance and raised his fists, his hood fell off allowing the light to finally hit his face.

"Stanley!?"

Stanford's eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. He looked different, his hair was longer there was stubble on his face and a hard look in his eyes, but there was no mistaking his twin.

Stanley's eyes flicked over to Stanford for a moment and then refocused on the men approaching him.

He charged at them suddenly with a raw throated yell.

Everything devolved into chaos at that point. Fists flying, the occasional flash of Stanley's brass knuckles, snarls and yells and the occasional yelp of pain.

Stanford really wanted to help, but honestly he was terrified to enter the brawl. It was like watching feral dogs fight.

Stanley was different too. In the past when he had watched his brother fight, whether in the boxing ring or against some school yard bullies, his moves had been open and direct relying more on brute force and stamina, than feints. Now He would maneuver his opponents into each other or the walls. He fought like a rabid animal. There was a bright crazed look to his eyes, his teeth were bared, and he went for any and every weakness or opening that made itself available.

Stanford saw one of them moving up behind Stanley ready to brain him with a club.

"Stanley!"

He spun around at Stanford's voice, narrowly dodging a blow to the head and instead taking it to his left shoulder. He let out a harsh yowl of pain, but socked the man in the head and he collapsed to the ground.

Stanley stood there breathing hard, hands clenched and bleeding. His posture was still very tense and his back was turned to them.

"Stanley?"

Stanford was having trouble processing anything right now. Between the brother he hadn't seen for almost eight years showing up out of the blue and almost getting mugged, his brain wasn't really running on all four cylinders.

Stanley hadn't moved yet. Stanford took a step forward, hand outstretched in concern.

"Are you all right?"

"Alright?!" Stanley half-yelled. "Alright?"

He spun around and began stalking toward Stanford menacingly.

"Are you alright?" He snarled.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You should not be out here at this time of the night."

He was now right in Stanford's face. He took a step back in surprise.

"Do you want to get killed?" Stanley slammed his hand into the wall on the other side of Stanford's head, his brass knuckles clinking against the brick.

For several seconds they just stared at each other.

"Um, excuse me?" Mcgucket's voice broke the stare down.

Stanley blinked and moved back from him.

"Who are you?" He asked a little gruffly.

"I'm Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket, I'm a friend from college and Stanford's research assistance."

He paused his eyes running over Stanley.

"Um we might want to get that arm looked at."

It was at that point that Stanford noticed Stanley's left arm was hanging limply at his side.

"Holy shit, is that dislocated," Stanford moved forward to get a look at it.

"Don't worry about it," Stanley said with a sigh.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and bit down on it and then, before Stanford could even process what he was about to do, he relocated his arm in one swift movement. Stanford winced at the popping noise.

Stanley rotated it in a circle and grimaced slightly.

"There good as new."

His eyes narrowed moving back and forth between Stanford and Fiddleford.

"You guys look like crap," He declared.

He opened his mouth to say something else and then closed it his eyes darting around.

"We need to get out of here. Where are you two staying?"

Fiddleford listed of the name of the hotel and street it was on.

Stanley nodded.

"Okay, I'll escort you two there. Follow me."

He turned away from them and started walking. They hesitated for a moment and then followed behind, stepping over the prone bodies of their attackers.

"Um shouldn't we report them to the police?" Fiddleford asked.

"Ya can if ya want, but I won't be sticking 'round then," Stanley said with a shrug.

"Why? Are you in trouble with the police?" Stanford asked frowning, as he lengthened his strides to keep up with his brother.

"No!" Stanley said a little too sharply.

Definitely lying.

Stanford opened his mouth to inquire farther.

"Look," Stanley cut him off with a sigh, "I'm not getting into that. I'll get ya home, but no more questions about my business."

There was a sharp, clipped tone to his voice that booked no argument.

They walked in silence for a ways. Stanford quietly studying his brother. He had changed a lot. Though to be fair their reunion was not under the best of conditions, so it was hard to gauge just how much.

They finally got out of the back streets into the brightly lit main areas of Portland. Stanley grimaced and drew his hood back up, but he seemed a little less tightly coiled.

"So what are you doin' in Portland?" Stanley asked falling back in step now that Stanford had his bearings again.

"Fiddleford and I are getting supplies for a project we're working on."

Stanley turned his head and gave him a rather incredulous stare, eyebrows raised.

Wow that black eye looks bad, Stanford thought.

"In that part of town?" Stanley asked. "What are you doing? Building a nuclear war head?"

"Well not a war head, but it is nuclear powered."

Stanley regarded him for a moment longer, then shook his head.

"Ya know what, I'm not even gonna ask."

His gaze drifted over toward Fiddleford.

"So what was it ya said your name was again?"

"Fiddleford. It's nice to meet you Stanley."

"Call me Stan. Fiddleford, huh?"

Stanley rubbed his chin.

"That's a bit of a mouthful. I'm gonna call you Fidds."

Fiddleford shrugged, "fine with me"

"So ya said ya met my brother in college? What was your major?"

Fiddleford's eyes lit up and he began an excited explanation of his field to Stanley.

Stanford hung back and watched quietly. Now that they were in a safer area and the adrenaline and fear had died down, a lot of other feelings were coming to the surface.

On one hand he still had a lot of anger that he had been nursing toward Stanley over the science fair project, but on the other he was surprised by how happy he felt over seeing his twin again. This was coupled with foreboding over Stanley's apparent avoidance of the police. What had his brother gotten into over these past eight years?

A loud laugh from Fiddleford drew him up out of his contemplation. The wiry man was grinning wildly at whatever Stanley had just said.

"Oh, yeah? Well one time I got an old tracker back up and running on duct tape alone!"

Stanley snorted.

"Please, we all know duct tape will fix everything…"

"Well you didn't see this tractor, I swear it… Oh, we're here."

Stanford hadn't even noticed they were in front of the hotel now.

"Well… I guess this is where I leave you two."

Stanley took a step back, hesitated and then turned to go.

"Wait!" Stanford wasn't quite sure what he had been planning to say, but he wasn't ready to just let his brother disappear off into the night and most likely out of his life again.

Stanley turned back toward him and cocked an eyebrow.

"Um…" Stanford opened and closed his mouth trying to come up with something to say.

"Would you like to have breakfast with us?" Fiddleford said moving up beside Stanford.

"Oh, I couldn't…"

"I insist," He said firmly. "It's the least we could do after you saved us today."

"Well when you put it that way," Stanley's eyes darted over to Stanford.

"Okay… There's a really good dinner over on 5th street called Sally's would that work?"

Stanford got his wits back about then and managed to respond.

"Yes that would be great. How about at eight?"

"Sure."

A bright smile broke out across Stanley's face, and for a moment, Stanford saw the boy he used to know. Then he turned away and disappeared into the night. Stanford thought he heard a faint humming as he went.