Chapter One: Who Would Win?
Two Years Ago
It was freezing.
It was freezing, the snow was piling up in drifts, and Stanley didn't even have enough money for a full tank of gas, let alone a motel. No. The best he had tonight was a stained blanket and his back-seat. He didn't have the energy to plan for once. He didn't even have the energy to wonder if he wanted to wake up the next day or not. Of all the ways to go, freezing to death in your sleep didn't seem like the worst of them.
Instead of thinking Stan just shivered and tried to curl himself into a tighter ball. It wasn't helping, but his body was ready to quit trying just yet. He was so wrapped up in just how cold he felt that it took a moment before he noticed the knocking at his window.
Was it the cops? Maybe it would be worth it to get jailed up for the night. Hell, maybe he'd have been better off if he'd never broken out in Columbia. He glanced up, too drained to even feel sorry for himself.
It wasn't the cops. It wasn't anyone he knew either. It was a woman who looked very bored, but also just the slightest bit concerned. Damn. Concern meant she wouldn't leave him alone. He rolled down the window slightly, hoping that not too much snow would get in.
"What do you want?"
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Is this really where you're staying tonight?"
"Hey, a man's gotta lay his head somewhere. It can't always be somewhere nice."
"There's a homeless shelter in town if you need it."
Stan scowled. Sure she meant well, but he wasn't about to take the chance the Stanley-mobile might get towed overnight. He'd never see her again. "Thanks, but I'll take my chances out here. I've been through worse."
"Hmm. Well that's stupid." The woman looked more bored than ever. "Did you know you're in my parking space?"
Fuck. Sure, he was behind an apartment building, but he hadn't seen any numbers on the spaces underneath the snow. He'd been hoping for the best. He really had to stop doing that.
"Let me guess, you need to park for the n-n-night?" A fresh shiver ran through him.
"No."
"No?"
"I don't have a car. The parking spot just comes with my apartment."
Stan stared at her dumbly. Just what did this lady want from him? "Listen, I'll clear out in the morning." If his car would even start. "Can I just-"
"Do you like spaghetti?"
"...What?"
The woman rubbed at her arms and at least had the decency to look like she felt a bit awkward at last. "I'm making spaghetti for dinner. You can have some and sleep on my couch. Use the shower too if you want. I don't mind."
Ah. Now things were starting to make sense. Not a lot of people took the whole good Samaritan thing this far, but Stan had seen it a few times. They'd put you up for a day or two. Get you to swear allegiance to some religion or other, then send you on your way (probably telling themselves you'd manage to get off the streets just fine from there).
"Aren't you worried I'm an ax-murderer?" he asked with a little grin. It was hardly a joke, but he wanted to see the woman at least crack a nervous smile.
"No." She didn't smile. Her face barely even moved. "I really don't care one way or another."
That was when Stanley realized that he'd been wrong before. The woman didn't look bored. She looked numb. It was the expression people wore when they were ready to give up. He had seen it on far too many people over the last eight years. It made his gut clench painfully.
Or maybe that was just his stomach protesting that he hadn't eaten today.
He decided he didn't really care enough to keep asking questions. Instead he put on the best showman smile he could and followed the woman to her apartment.
Today
"I can't believe you know all the 'Official Disney Princesses' in order."
"Really? That's what you're surprised at? Last week I listed 35 superheroes who wear yellow. I know stupid amounts about things no one cares about. That's kinda my thing. That's why I always call myself eidetic."
"Wait. That's what that means? I thought it was just a stupid nickname."
"It is! How have we done almost fifty episodes and you still don't know what my name means?!"
*laughter* "Hey, I leave the fancy words to you. I'm just here to be the looks of this operation.
"Well that's…"
"Anyway, why are we talking about Disney princesses?"
"For this week's debate! Who would win in a Disney Princess Hunger Games battle royale?"
"Hmmm, good one. I haven't seen 'em all, but there's that girl with the arrows, right? The one with the mop hair?"
"Merida's definitely a contender, but I'd put my money on Mulan. She beat a whole Hun army!"
"Love that movie. Learned all I gotta do to be a real man is act like a Pink Floyd album."
"What?"
"I gotta be...the Dark Side of the Moon! You know, cause of that song….when she's in the army…"
"Oh! Let's get down to business! To defeat! The-"
"Oi! Copyright infringement! Can we try to go a week without a C&D this time? Anyway, I thought of someone better: Elsa. She could just waste them all with her ice powers. No one could beat her!"
"Listeners, you won't believe this, but Nick is a HUGE Frozen fan. He saw that movie about a dozen times and cried at every showing."
"Aw, shut up! Can I help it if I like a good computer-generated magic snowman?"
"Anyway, you should know that Elsa's got a giant weak point. Maybe she could take out all the other girls, but there's no way she'd be able to kill Anna. If the really had to have just one person left, Elsa would make sure her sister won."
"...Yeah, I guess siblings look out for each other like that."
Gravity Falls, OR: Today
From an objective perspective this wasn't the best week Ford had ever had. Still, it was better than any he'd experienced in a long time.
The journals were hidden. The portal was largely disassembled (or, rather, blown up). Now all that was left was to hope this spell he'd found on a very sketchy sub-reddit would do the trick to keep a certain triangular menace from ever bothering him again.
Sure, it called for a circle of flash drives instead of candles and required Ford to track down an old Xbox controller cable to symbolically bind himself to a representation of his enemy (he'd chosen a bright yellow Furby based on how creepy they always looked). But he was banking on magic spells being the sort of thing that evolved in the same way technology did. Bill was an ancient demon. Surely he wouldn't bother to pay attention to minutiae of modern spellcasting, right?
Carefully, Ford began the cant of empowerment and tried very hard not to feel stupid as he did so. "At first I was afraid. I was petrified. I kept thinking that I could not live without you by my side."
At this point he wrapped the cord around wrists and tied the other end to the Furby, focusing very hard on his earlier memories with Bill. The times when he had felt so honored and then so afraid that Bill might leave him for some other genius if he didn't do the work Bill wanted.
"But then I spent so many nights," he sighed, "thinking about how you wronged me. I grew strong and I learned...um...how to survive." He loosened the cord and thought about the horrible weeks after he had learned Bill's true intentions and had to fight tooth and nail to keep Bill from using his own body against him. Then he spared a thought to try and recall how the stupid song went.
"So now you're back, from outer space. I just dadada dada...look on your face…" This wasn't really the important part. What really mattered was the feeling behind it. Ford let himself fill with all the anger and indignation and humiliation he'd gone through for the past month and imagined it all flowing into the cable, down from his hands, and then tightly wrapping around the Furby.
He was getting into the proper frame of mind for this now. He let his voice rise up and fill the whole lab where it echoed like the wrath of an avenging angel. "Go on now, go! Walk out of the door! Go turn around because you are not welcome anymore! Are you not the one who tried to break me with good-bye? Did you think I would crumble? Did you think I would lay down and die? Nay! Not I! I! Will! Survive!"
And with that he cut through the cord with a specially enchanted knife and watched with satisfaction as the Furby lit up with a bright blue flame. The toy let out an alarming whine. Ford carefully stepped away from it, out of the protective circle. The fire didn't last long but by the time it was down the Furby's motor had melted and all its fur was a mere memory.
Ford sighed with relief. Something had happened at least. He only hoped it would be enough. He was nearly delirious from how little he had slept in the last few weeks. He stumbled to the elevator and nearly fell asleep on the way to his bedroom. He crashed onto his pillow and didn't even bother to removed the various papers that cluttered the bed. His last thought before lost consciousness was a wish.
I really hope I just have normal nightmares for once.
To his surprise and delight, he did. In fact, he had one of the best rests he'd ever known. It wasn't until the next afternoon that Ford found a new reason to be filled with a murderous rage.
At 4:03 PM he checked his e-mail. He had a message from an address he didn't know. The subject line said "I thought you might want to see this…." Curious, he opened it and found a link and image for an Ebay listing...one for an extremely familiar journal.
Ford's right eye started to twitch. "That's it. I'm finally ready to commit fratricide."
He slammed down his coffee mug and stormed out the door. He didn't care if he had to drive across the whole country to do it. He was going to kill Stanley Pines.