This was not meant to happen. At all.
When Robbie had awakened in his bedroom, he didn't have the slightest clue where he was. For a few seconds, he thought that he had been kidnapped, taken away from his childhood, and kept in some twisted torture chamber. However, as his eyes adjusted to the cruel lighting of where he lay, that's when he came to the startling conclusion that he was in his room. His room. However, it was BRIGHTLY LIT.
Rule number one when dealing with an angsty teenager with attachment issues, do not mess with his interior lighting. For one, he was still quite groggy from his beauty sleep. For two, this was his room! No one, and I mean no one, had the right to turn up that light switch. Not even that poorly dressed weirdo had that clearance…who just happened to be cackling in the corner like a madman.
"What are you still doing here!" Robbie screamed. Quickly, he burst from the safety of his covers and brandished a guitar that he had been laying on the floor. While he was scrawny and not well versed in combat, he still estimated that he could bash in the guy's head before anything bad could happen to him. Of course, when he swung his guitar, he clearly underestimated his relative's surprisingly fast reflexes or the fact that this guy had secret teleportation powers.
He must have.
Seriously.
One second, the guy in the gothic clothing had been doubled over psychotically laughing. And the next second, it appeared as if Robbie had been aiming for the air the entire time. With a whoosh and a clang, the teenager realized that he hit nothing but air, but on descent, he had pretty much rendered his instrument useless. The impact the guitar had on the ground was near astounding in the fact that guitar pretty much flew into pieces at the force. In summary, Robbie found himself staring at a pile of wood and strings that used to play the sweetest of melodies.
Great.
"Looks like the Little Dog," because that was now Robbie's newly christened name, "finally has woken up." The man observed from the safe vantage point behind the teenager. The newcomer couldn't help but release a maniacal grin when he heard a tiny squeak fall out of Robbie's mouth in an undignified manner. However, much as he would like to continue to entertain himself by tormenting the youngling, there were many things to do. Newbies to train, 'guests' to decorate, and of course, he had to 'kill time.' The lean man found himself shaking his head sadly. How sad; he would have liked to see the young lad squeal in pain for a bit longer. "Come now, my dearly departed relative," he gestured gaily to the door, "we have a whole day to ourselves!"
Instantly, Robbie moved away from the man like he was an infected patient with some sort of contagious disease. He may not be able to stay away from the creep when he was at home, but he could sure as heck stay away from him when he's with his friends. However, it appeared that the man knew what he was thinking. With a vice like grip that Robbie was sure was not human, the older man dragged him forcefully out of his room and plunked him onto the kitchen table. Unsurprisingly, the table was built so that it looked like it encased a dead person under a thin protection of glass. Like always, it appeared that the decomposition process was still underway, but Robbie knew that this was just a ploy to get people freaked inside the funeral home. It was just a mannequin that happened to catch his parent's fancy a few years back. Unfortunately, not many people knew that secret.
"Ah, I do love what your parents do to your guests. They are simply divine!" The man breathed in exhilaration! The man's pale fingers reverently caressed the glass, as if trying to see if he could wake the man up by just being creepy. Unfortunately, for the teen, all that he saw was a horribly dressed old man who looked like he was trying to recreate a scene from a Disney classic.
It was that disturbing
"Look, you old geezer, I don't know where you came from, but over here we don't call the dead, guests," Robbie enunciated, like he was trying to talk some common sense into a young child. "Frankly, it's kind of disturbing and I won't stand for it."
"Little Dog, I don't see how you won't stand for anything because you're already sitting," the older man chuckled. The stranger pulled up a chair so that he could view the 'guest' without straining his body. Unbeknownst to him, the young lad was secretly stewing over how nonchalantly he had insulted him yet again. There was also the glaring fact that he was still angered by his instrument's sudden annihilation.
Because the white haired man did not wish to pay attention to him (how in the world is a dead body more interesting than him?) Robbie felt that it was his duty to snap him out of the cuckoo land.
"Look, old man, stop calling me a dog. The name is Robbie. Ro-bbie," the young man announced sullenly. The young man's glare was rendered useless when he realized that the man just stared at him, a cruel grin on his lips. Instead of storming out of the room to get away from this creature that happened to wear the costume of a human, Robbie felt that he should stand his ground. That, in itself, was highly unusual and in direct conflict of his cowardly personality.
Faintly, Robbie felt that he was getting the soul sucked out of him. It felt like his breath was slowly leaving him, similar to how a person would feel after spending an imaginable amount of time underwater. His heart, which he was sure didn't sound this loud in his ears, felt like it was beating slower…and slower…and slower… His eyes began to droop and he distantly registered the pain of having his head fall onto the table's cold glass. The last thing that he could detect was the feeling of a rough claws pushing away the hair and sweat from his forehead.
"Little dogs like you should not talk back to your master that way!" The older man sang.
Robbie stared in sick horror as he watched his stupid relative swing around a scythe. It wasn't the type that someone would find in the Summerween store. It didn't even look like it came from a store for that matter! The blade was thick and made of steel; the metal glinted with a bloodthirsty grin. The handle was long and sturdy and grooves were already made in the bar, as if handled fondly for many, many years. Robbie would have probably been squealing at the awesomeness of the sight (testosterone would do that to you) but he couldn't bring himself to do that because the creepy old man was the one who was currently swinging it at him.
"Dude! My parents are going to sue you if I get hit and die!" He huffed and panted with long laborious breaths as he tried in vain to get away from the reach of the unwieldy weapon. Because of his customary dark clothing and the fact that the sun was beating down on him like there was no tomorrow, he was officially soaked and irritable. "Why are you doing this? Was it because I gave you a terrible tour of town the other day?"
Without any ever effort, the white haired man replied, "Little Dog, if I were to hurt you, I would have done so back when you were a wee thing."
Robbie, while flushed and panting from the strenuous activities, found that was he was paling in fear. This guy knew him when he was a baby? The teen could barely imagine his relation as a younger man, or aging at all. A mental block had erected itself in the midst of his mind, prohibiting him from trying to entertain the thought further. Come to think of it, who was the old geezer related to? Unfortunately, before he could put a voice to those words, the teen managed to trip on a branch. Comically, he began somersaulting out of control. Another bad thing: the only protection he had against the elements was the Goth clothing on his back.
When he had finally managed to stop falling like a stupid cartoon character, he fell on his back. Even though his instincts told him to run as fast as he can, the teenager felt that it was far more prudent to stay still and take on threats of disrupting his rest with flying fists.
As the cool air underneath the shade embraced the flushed expanse of his pale, pimpled skin, the crackling of the underbrush broke through the momentary silence. Warily, Robbie sucked in a tight breath. He already knew that his brief respite was going to be rudely interrupted. What a pity, he thought moodily. I really was getting used to the little rocks and roots digging into my back.
"Little Dog, you're breaking my heart!" Robbie yelped when he felt the cool metal press into the vulnerable flesh of his beck. A booted foot also stepped onto his thin chest to smother the breath out of him. Coincidentally, the elder male was stepping on the sewn heart of his hoodie. (Knowing the older man, he was probably doing it for the giggles.) "We wouldn't want that, now would we?"
With a ton of effort that one shouldn't exert on summer vacation, Robbie managed to respond through gritted teeth.
"Not sure how to respond other than to just to stare uncomprehendingly at the sky." The young man gritted his teeth because the feeling of getting suffocated was not abating. "As long as your heart is the one breaking, I wouldn't mind the world so much."
The pale figure in the dark clothing merely chuckled before taking his boot off of the American lad. Just when Robbie was going to consider making a dash for it, the newcomer to Gravity Falls sat on top of his chest, pinning him to the ground again. It was at that moment that alarm bells began to resound in his head.
"I don't think you know who you are dealing with," the man murmured sweetly. Precariously, he held his scythe in one of his pale, spindly fingers. Tight tendrils of ice slithered down Robbie's spine as he saw how close he could be to becoming one of his parent's little 'pet projects.' He may have grown up in a funeral home, but he was still a bit sickened by the presence of death. "Does the Little Dog want to know?"
Tiny droplets of ice cold sweat covered Robbie's forehead. He could actually feel the perspiration dripping away from the spots on his forehead and pooling into the thick mass of his hair. His breath, already short, was slowly becoming shallower and shallower by the continued weight of the man on top of him. Given time, Robbie knew that one of two things would happen. One, his stupid relative would tire of this petty little 'bonding family time.' Or two, which seemed all the more likely, was that the man would continue to remain seated on top of the teen until he passed out from lightheadedness and the heat.
"The Little Dog would like for you to get up," Robbie muttered in short, spastic little taunts. He had long since tired from retorting that he wasn't a dog or some other rodent. His face, usually so pale and indifferent was red from the near absence of oxygen and shame. Never before had he been bullied to thist startling degree. "Besides," he huffed angrily, "what's so special about you?"
"Because, my dear little blood relation…I'm a Grim Reaper."
"Question me this, question me that! What would the demon do with a boy in a hat?"
The yellow phantom floated in front of the sleeping boy, his eye wrinkling in disguised glee. Did the little boy know how much power he had given him? How he should have looked at the fine print when he had the chance? Nopity nope! Poor little Pine Tree, he really should have been a touch more paranoid to make sure that things would be all right! Of course, not all things were going great for Bill.
Ever since that grim reaper had come into town, things had become far more hectic. For reasons that the dream demon could not fathom, the deathly being had went through the trouble of spray-painting all of his little 'eyes' in the town area. While Bill could care less about the people of Gravity Falls, he was a bit miffed that his territory was being tampered with. I mean would you let someone you have never met mess with your belongings? Didn't think so. It was a good thing that this mysterious little being hadn't learned of the whereabouts about the Mystery Shack yet.
It was also a good thing that this little meat-sack was actually getting some sleep. Slowly, the demon slipped silently into the boy's young body. Before, he could assert himself among the boy's mental controls, he made sure that the boy was secure in his mindscape. Apparently, Pine Tree liked to dream about that redheaded cashier girl. How scandalous!
"Pine Tree gone and the Grim's to fear, but never fret!" He said to himself once he got himself reacquainted with the real estate that he just happed to reacquire. "The dream demon is here!"
Mabel had opened up her eyes. She had no idea why she had just started to wake up at that moment, but her sibling senses were tingling like crazy! With practiced ease, she turned to her side to check up on her dork of a brother, before she frowned. She took in the sight of the ruffled covers and the lack of shoes that Dipper usually left underneath the bed. That was weird, she thought. Maybe he was in the bathroom.
She was about to burrow herself back into the covers when she heard a peculiar noise. It sounded like someone was trying to hack upon the door with multiple body parts. Or, for a better analogy, it sounded like someone was bashing the door open with by ramming a head against the doorknob. Ouch. Did Dipper eat some of her Smile Dip? The young girl got out of her bed and grabbed her grappling hook.
This better be something paranormal related or she was going to restrain her bro-bro to the bed if need be.
She crept down the stairs and followed after the possessed body.
Yep, there better be a great reason why her brother didn't bother to tell her about some nighttime romp.
