Two boys sat side by side in the woods of Gravity Falls underneath the shade of a tall evergreen tree. They were dressed in tattered, tight-fitting clothes that were identical in all but the number that was written upon their white-and-blue baseball caps- one boy's cap displayed the number 3, the other the number 4. Right now, both had out large, worn books turned to empty pages and were nibbling on stubby pencils in between muttering words to one another.
"Did we do an entry about those pixies yet?" the boy wearing the number 3 cap asked.
The other boy flipped through his book before resting his finger on one page. "Yeah, it's right here. Got that last night. Did you ever do that one about the goblin?"
"Wait, I thought you were going to do the one about the goblin! It was your turn, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, but you saw them first."
The boy with the number 3 hat sighed. "Fine, I'll write it out then." He tapped the pencil against the paper, its graphite breaking into pieces and smudging the yellowed page. "So. It lives pretty far back in that one cave, it's attracted to light…"
"It hates fire."
"Yeah, oh man, we definitely need that… do NOT use fire against it."
The two shuddered in unison at the thought of how close they had come to utter destruction on that particular instance.
"Got that down now. So, what else should I add… I mean, I guess it-"
"NOW!"
The boy's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sensation of coldness that formed a thin line along his neck.
He looked downward to see a knife pressed against his throat, held by a gloved hand. A quick glance to the side revealed that his near-identical companion was now stuck in the same predicament.
"What-"
"Silence. We have you surrounded. Put up a struggle and you will regret it."
Out from behind the trees burst dozens of hooded figures, their forms nearly as similar to one another as the boys were to each other, their faces hidden in the shadows of the fabric.
Their captors bound their arms not with the zip-ties or duct tape that they had come to expect from seeing similar scenarios in movie upon movie but instead with thick chains of gold and iron, the sheer weight alone practically enough to incapacitate their bound limbs.
"Come with us quietly, or we will make you come with us in a… less pleasant fashion. We have spells and enchantments enough even for the likes of you. Your trickery shall not get you far, demon, I can guarantee you that much."
"What do you mean, demon?" The boy with the number 4 hat cried out. The only response was the hooded figure beside him slowly shaking their head as they set down the arm that held their knife.
The two identical boys were forced to march into the middle of a clearing. The area was lined with runes and glyphs and all sorts of other symbols, a few of which the boys recognized from their unending study of the paranormal. The spot at which they were ordered to sit down was in the exact center of a circle within a circle within yet another circle, all perfectly round and lined with candles and spices and ropes of all kinds.
The two hooded figures which had first approached them towered over the two boys now and tied them together with a rope which appeared to contain hair and silk and some indeterminate metal that glittered in the light of the setting sun.
"Now." The robed person's voice was gruff and low. "Which of you two is the real Alcor?"
"The real what now?" The two responded in unison, their voices blending together in harmony.
"Don't play games with us, demon." The final word was practically spat out. "You may disguise yourself with a human form, but we know better than to judge on the basis of such shallow appearances."
The two boys exchanged nervous glances, knowing each other's thoughts all too well. They had had this discussion before many times, about the implications of their supernatural origin, about whether they now counted as creatures as unnatural as those written about within their precious journals. Perhaps this mysterious group knew the truth about them and had jumped to a misguided but entirely understandable conclusion.
The boy with the number 3 hat, used to taking the lead in such perilous situations (having convinced the other that he should be their leader due to his greater age and his having been the reason for the number 4 boy's creation), was the first to speak up.
"Okay, you're right, we're not… exactly… human. But that doesn't make us evil demons either. We don't mean you, or anybody else, any harm, really."
The statement elicited a harsh laugh. "Tell that to the New Lenox branch. I think the survivors might take issue with that claim."
"I don't understand."
The circle of cultists drew closer. "You still haven't answered our question. One of you is the real Alcor, and the other must be a mere illusion. Now, before we have to do something… drastic… just tell us which is which."
The boys' bodies shook all over with fear. "Who's Alcor?"
"So you insist on continuing to play dumb, do you? I guess we'll have to do this the hard way."
The two figures closest to the tied-up boys exchanged a terse nod, then, with a swift, obviously practiced motion, retrieved a vial filled with clear liquid from one of the folds in their robes.
"Holy water, blessed by a dozen priests from a dozen sects. Even for a demon of your great stature, I dare say it should… give you a bit of a sting."
The boys' eyes widened. Water. These creeps were going to attack them with some kind of water. Of course, they knew that there were fanatics who were very much opposed to any elements of the supernatural world… but the two had never thought that such extremists would be the cause of their demise.
"No no no please don't-"
"It's too late. Maybe now you'll learn to cooperate with us."
The hooded figures uncorked their vials and threw their contents onto the children. And then the two boys were wracked with pain as their bodies gave way underneath them, their human form becoming contorted and misshapen before eventually melting away entirely.
All that remained to mark that they had ever existed was, within the confines of the now-useless ropes and chains, a large puddle that slowly seeped into the earth below.