Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls

Finally, onto the longer chapters!

And we finally get to the rated M part!

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Chapter 3:

Caught In A Landslide

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Zh dozdbv kdg vr pxfk ixq...

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"Please." Peter Wund begged. "Please don't do this."

His eyes roamed over the lawyer, dark and hungry.

"You can still save him." The Angel whispered into his ear. "You have the choice. Believe me, I beg of you."

He closed his eyes, fist tightening around the drill he had.

"Stop filling his mind with useless fluff! You've tried this before, over and over and your words are unconvincing now as they were then!"

The Angel scowled at the other. "You're just confusing him! Twisting what he wants, who he is around!"

"No I'm not. You're just too cowardly to face the truth! Besides, if there is anyone you should be blaming, it should be-"

He hissed at the two, cutting their bickering off. Eyes narrowed, he flicked the drill on.

Peter Wund stared at the tool in his kidnapper's hand, wide-eyed. Terror courses through the poor lawyer's veins, freezing him. His breathes quickened into hyperventilation. Unable to scream, he could only watch as the crazed man in front of him stepped closer, a slight smile twitching on his lips.

The buzz from the drill echoed around the two, fuzzy but louder than life.

He crouched next to Peter Wund, running one hand over the duck tape he used to tie him up.

Peter Wund whimpered.

"I'm sorry, my friend." His kidnapper whispered. "So sorry. But I have no choice. Free will is an illusion, after all."

A choking sob escaped between Peter Wund's breathes, his mind completely and utterly paralyzed.

The drill was right next to his ear, echoing deafeningly in the cavern.

Peter Wund squeezed his eyes together tightly, ready for agony.

The buzzing stopped.

Peter Wund slowly cracked his eyes open, only to feel two gentle hands wrap duck tape tightly around his mouth, destroying any chance of him screaming out for help.

"I almost forgot about this." His kidnapper murmured thoughtfully.

Peter Wund let out a large, tearful sniff, the only sound he could make.

The drill started up again.

"Let's get back to what we were doing before, hmm?" He said

"Not very chatty tonight, are ya?" The Other said.

He shrugged at the question. "Just not in the mood, really." He replied to it.

Peter Wund stared up at him with horror in his blue eyes.

He lifted the drill up back to Peter Wund's ear and let it snarl while roving his eyes over his friend's body, debating on what to do first.

The drill lowered from his ear, only to hover over his right kneecap. Peter Wund could feel the rapid spin of the nozzle against his dress pants, causing goose flesh to rise.

Tears leaked from Peter Wund's eyes, streaking down the contours of his face before falling on his crisp tux.

His kidnapper held the drill there for, in Peter Wund's opinion, forever.

Then, it pierced his flesh.

The drill cut easily through the nice fabric of his pants and drove into his flesh, grinding it up. Rivets of blood trickled down his leg in time to the small splatters he could feel flying out. His taped bonds going tight, Peter Wund tried to scream out, only to be choked by the tape across his lower jaw, effectively shutting him up just like the kidnapper wanted.

It didn't take long for the spinning metal to meet his bone.

Another, new wave of agony splintered up him as the metal bit deeply into him, chewing up bits of bone. The pain now was unimaginable.

He could hear the heavy breathing of his kidnapper- no, his torturer in his ear, thick and hot. The breathes beat in time with his heart and the throbs that shook him.

More tears poured from his eyes as his leg heated up from the friction. Unable to move, unable to cry out, Peter Wund could only focus on the drill digging into him. Nearly everything else was a blank to him; completely lost to the poor lawyer.

Peter Wund was nothing but a catalyst for his torturer's twisted ideals and his own dark agony.

Finally, the drill was smoothly removed from his knee, leaving his entire leg tingling, bloody, and strangely cold without the vile friction.

Peter Wund let out a wet sniff from his nose, stomach tying itself into knots. The smell of burning skin, blood, and bone hung in the air, pungent and horrible. Bile bubbled at the back of his throat, scorching his esophagus with it's bitterness.

The drill shut off again.

The silence in the wake of what just happened was paralyzing. The still air pinned him down. Unable to even think, Peter Wund could only lay on the cool ground as his torturer placed the drill down next to him, pulling out a large pair of scissors.

The double blades brushed against Peter Wund's leg, the frigid metal causing every hair to stand up on end. Fresh air brushed against his skin as his dress pants were cut off around his knee.

Peter Wund gasped as he was forced into sitting up, pain sparking through his leg and up his spine, the bones in his knee grinding against one another.

"He thinks it's beautiful. I'm not so sure I agree, though." His torturer said simply, voice apathetic. Glancing up at the unassuming face above him, Peter Wund could clearly see a look of- of curiosity of all things. Not wanting to see the monster above him, Peter Wund's eyes fell to his knee.

Which was the worst decision Peter Wund had ever made in his life.

His knee was split open, a small black hole was drilled straight down into it. He could clearly see milky white bone shards scattered, slipping down his leg in bright red blood like small stones in a great river.

Bile spilled from where it was festering, filling Peter Wund's mouth with its foul taste. Leaking partially through the tape on his mouth, Peter Wund's lungs gasped for air as his reserves of oxygen trickled away.

His vision going dark around the edges, air hit his lower jaw as the tape was torn away, leaving a prickly sensation. Free of the bond, Peter Wund vomited all over himself, tuna sandwich and can of coke lost forever. Gagging and gasping, he finished up pretty quickly, the stench making him dizzy.

His slight freedom didn't last long, however. Before Peter Wund could even think about letting out a scream, a new strip of tape was over his mouth, locking him in silence.

He vaguely felt his vomit seeping through his clothing, causing his skin to become sticky.

Peter Wund's half-lidded eyes went up to his torturer again.

Peter Wund expected disgust. He expected his torturer's button nose to be wrinkled up at the scent of his vomit, expected him to be leaning away from him.

But that would be a normal reaction to someone vomiting all over themselves.

But this man wasn't normal, Peter Wund thought with a touch of hysteria. Normal people didn't lean forward and stare at the trailing saliva on his chin with rapt attention.

They also didn't kidnap people.

Or drill holes into their knees.

Or talk to people who weren't actually there.

Nor did they- did, did t-they...

Peter Wund shrieked around his gag as a finger, glove-less this time, dipped into the hole on his knee, wriggling around slightly. The long, uncut nail scratched against the inside of his bone.

Peter Wund watched as his torturer's eyes fell from his chin to his knee, curious apathy transforming into a fascinated fixation, as if Peter Wund's wounded knee was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

Finally, after a few more scratches and wiggles that made Peter Wund huff through his nose, the only way he could cry out, his torturer removed his now bloody finger, bits of bone stuck under his fingernails.

Peter Wund would vomit if he had anything left in his stomach.

His torturer picked up his drill again and switched it on, causing Peter Wund to flinch violently.

"Of course your already bored." The man said.

A few beats of silence.

His torturer licked his lips. "Of course I can."

Peter Wund wanted to scream at the obviously insane man. Scream and curse and bite and cry.

But he couldn't do anything but stare.

His torturer focused his dark eyes back on him, a genuine, tiny smile graced his features, causing a misplaced look of innocence.

"Well, I guess it's time to finish our...fun up. Thank you, Peter Wund."

The drill started up again. This time, it hovered directly between his eyes. Trying to keep the whirling metal in sights, Peter Wund went cross-eyed.

"Goodbye, my friend."

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"Wendy!"

The redhead glanced behind her as a familiar sweater-clad body rammed into her, wrapping her up in a massive, warm hug. The (now) slightly taller girl swung her around wildly, already chatting a mile a minute in her ear.

"Mabel! Mabel! It's great to see you too, but you're crushing my ribs!" Wendy laughed out between gasps.

Mabel giggled excitedly before letting go of her friend and stepping back.

Wendy took a good look at the brunette. Not much had changed for the girl between the ages of twenty and twenty- one. Her shiny brown hair was pulled into a fluffy pony-tail, light make-up brushed across her face to enhance her natural beauty.

Her sweater for the day was purple with a pink hippo stitched onto it, googly eyes glued expertly in place. A single...hoof? Hand? Foot of the hippo was lifted up, balancing a small male ballerina.

"Nice sweater." Wendy commented truthfully. Mabel always had the best sense of humor and fashion.

"Hey, Wendy." A soft voice said behind Mabel.

Wendy's smile grew wider. "Hey Dipper."

Dipper stepped around his sister to also give the redhead a warm hug. Unlike Mabel, however, there was no twirling, no crushing of the ribs. His arms bent around her slightly awkwardly, thin and tense. He held on for a handful of seconds, chin hairs lightly brushing against her forehead before unwinding himself from her and taking a few steps back.

Like his twin, Dipper changed very little over the year. A nervous smile played on his lips and dark bags hung under his eyes. His favorite blue and white hat with a pine tree on it was perched carefully on his head, scruffy from age, covering up equally fluffy hair. Unlike Mabel, who dressed in blooming bright colors, Dipper dressed in muted tints and neutrals; a simple deep blue tee-shirt with khakis and a black jacket balanced on bony shoulders.

"Hey, Wendy." Dipper greeted. "It's great to see you again."

The redhead laughed and stepped foreword to embrace the duo once again in a group hug. "Oh, I really missed you two. College has been a nightmare!"

Both twins laughed at her declaration and voiced their own agreements over their education, brown eyes twinkling.

"So I was thinking..." Mabel started up as they all pulled apart.

"That's never good." Dipper quipped with a smirk.

Lightly punching her brother in the shoulder, Mabel continued, "how about we go to Greasy's to catch up? I've missed their pancakes!"

"Mabel, you always eat pancakes!" Dipper groaned.

"Yeah, but not Greasy's! They're the best!"

Dipper sighed. "Fair enough." He agreed. "Besides, the diner is probably the best place to eat around here."

Mabel cheered happily. "YES!" She shouted, starting to run around in circles and chanting "pancakes!" Over and over again.

Dipper rolled his eyes.

Wendy laughed.

She had missed her favorite duo.

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He lowered his finger into the drink, letting his nail scratch against the ice. It still had minuscule bits of bone stuck under it and blood was still tucked away in his cuticles.

Twirling the finger around, he watched in rapt attention how the liquid became a miniature whirlpool. Condensation dripped down the cold glass, dripping slowly into the dirty wood.

He counted the drips, staring at them with a disturbing intensity.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten...

And so on and so on...

"Why?" A timid voice asked him.

He didn't glance at the Angel. He simply continued stirring his drink.

"You know why." He whispered to her.

The Angel bowed her head, shaking it back and forth, not saying a thing.

There was nothing left to say, after all.

He didn't notice.

"Don't let her get you down~!" A cheerful voice sang. "You did what you had to, wanted to. That's what's important."

"Every human life is important!" The Angel spat at the Other. Her brows were furrowed in righteous anger, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

The Other scoffed at her. "Please, that's not an argument. Humans are pathetic and we both know it." The Other glanced at the man still stirring his drink. He lowered his voice to a growl.

"We all do."

The man said nothing to the two. Instead, he removed his finger and lifted it to his lips, rubbing his tongue gently along the digit. Locking his lips around the end, he carefully sucked the nail, enjoying the tang of blood and alcohol blended together. With a small pop, he removed the finger from his mouth.

The two fell silent with the sound of the pop, staring at him.

The Other stared slyly.

The Angel stared with pity.

"Sir, are you okay?" A new voice asked.

The man jerked, eyes roving everywhere before falling on the woman before him.

She was leaning forward slightly, wiping an already clean-looking glass down. The woman was a bit older than himself, a few gray hairs dangling in her face. Her laugh lines were thick and wrinkles crinkled around her hazel eyes. She was a bit on the portly side, but not enough to warrant her as being fat.

Though the woman practically radiated a feeling of motherliness, she had a slightly wary look in her eyes, staring at him in distrust.

He let a small smile grace his features, meeting her cold eyes with his warm dark ones.

He watched as tenseness fell from her shoulders. Though she was still suspicious of him, she wasn't openly hostile.

"I'm fine." He answered her smoothly.

"Are you sure? You look...tense." She ventured carefully, eyes glancing down him.

Look who's talking. He thought. Outwardly, he said, "Yeah. Just tired. I've been traveling for a while now." He rubbed his eyes for emphasis.

She relaxed even more. "Really? Where do you come from?"

"Well, I'm actually going back home. I was in New York for a while though."

She laughed. "In the Big Apple, huh? Much different than out here, I would imagine. Never been to a city myself, ya see."

"It's very different. Everybody's always in a hurry and there's little room to breathe, unlike the country." He replied simply, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands.

"Donna! Can ya get me another beer!?" A patron down the bar asked, slamming his glass back onto the wood.

"On it!" Donna yelled back.

"You're name's Donna?" He asked her before she could trot off and fulfill the request.

She gave him a watery smile. "Yup." She chirped before hurrying away.

He watched her go, a smirk working it's way into his face.

Donna?

Perfect.

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"-and I found him the next morning passed out on the roof!" Mabel crowed, finishing up her story while simultaneously elbowing a flushing Dipper in the side.

Wendy let out a bark of a laugh. "You're kidding!" She coughed out, glancing between the twins. "Who knew you had such a wild side, Dipper?" She directed to the male twin, waggling her eyebrows as she did so.

Dipper flushed a deeper red somehow and twiddled his thumbs, embarrassed by Mabel telling that terrible story to his past crush.

"Ugh, that entire day was a terrible idea." The brunet groaned, resting his head in his hands.

Wendy shot a relaxing grin at the distressed man. "Hey, it's fine, Dip. Everyone makes bad decisions in College. Hell, people make bad decisions throughout their entire life! It's okay as long as you learn from your mistakes."

Dipper peeked through his fingers, giving the redhead a thankful look while Mabel stared in amazement.

"Wow, Wendy! When did you get so wise?"

Wendy smirked. "I'll never tell!" She snickered.

Dipper barked out a small chuckle while Mabel rolled her eyes and reached over to steal some bits of pancake off her plate, shoving the soggy food into her mouth.

Wendy gave the girl a knowing look and pushed the entire plate over, much to Mabel's delight.

"So what's our plans today, guys?" The redhead asked.

The twins glanced at one another and shrugged.

Wendy looked at them with mock shock. "You don't have any ideas at all?" She leaned back and crossed her arms. "Not even an adventure in the woods?"

Mabel whipped around to look at her brother with a questioning look. Dipper shifted his weight, pulling out a familiar battered maroon journal from his jacket, slight smirk on his face.

"Welllll..." He drawled playfully. "There are a few more mysteries we haven't seen before."

The two girls exchanged excited looks.

Wendy slid out of the booth and stood tall.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?"

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Wendy squared her shoulders, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to see. All around her, sirens of the local police screamed, red and blue light throwing the warehouse in front of her in sharp and twisted shadows.

Blinking hard, Wendy watched as the door to the flat building was lifted slowly, metal against metal screeching like a lost child.

The sound sent chills down her spine.

Next to her, some cop (She thinks it might be the Sheriff, but she really wasn't paying attention) was telling her about a couple of teenagers finding the body or whatever after trying to break in.

Wendy nodded along to his barely heard words, mind trying to tighten on what was before her.

The door slammed up into the top, causing partials of dust to explode in the air, starting a lazy descent downwards.

Sucking in a short breath, Wendy strode forward into the darkness. Going along the wall, she fiddled around to try and find the lights, dust clinging to her sweaty fingers. Finally finding the lever, she shoved it upward, flooding the large room in harsh, too-bright industrial light.

She rapidly blinked spots out of her eyes from the sudden change.

The first thing she noticed that the warehouse was (nearly) empty.

The second thing she noticed were the words.

For the sixteenth time.

Across the entire back wall, in now dried blood, shined the two words that she always dreaded to see.

I'M SORRY

It was written in all caps in careful and blocky letters, mimicking computer font fairly well. It sent chills rippling across her every time, causing goose flesh to rise as every hair on her stood up on end.

She let out a shaky breath. Slowly lifting her right leg, she unglued herself from the floor and started striding forward, trying her best to keep her gate even and confident, letting a simple scowl mar her face.

She didn't want anyone to see how she was still shaken up by these murders, after all.

The body lay right under the O, like it usually was in this position. Unlike the last murder, this one was surprisingly clean. No massive blood-splatters, no mashed up organs, no-

Then the stench hit her. She'd forgotten to plug her nose.

It was of blood and flesh and vomit and bitterness. It hooked her stomach and dragged it down, causing the acid to slosh around unpleasantly.

Her hand went up automatically to pinch her nostrils. Opening her mouth, tongue lolling out slightly, Wendy gagged on the scent, feeling the back of her throat distort.

Rolling her shoulders, Wendy quickly gasped through her mouth, the pungent scent latching into her tongue, sour and disgusting.

After recovering from the invisible onslaught, she bent down so she was level with the man before her, doing a quick profile on the poor, dead soul.

He was wearing a nice suit (well it was probably very nice before his murder) and was tied up with silvery duct tape stained red. His dress pant's right knee was cut away in a neat square, displaying a large, perfect hole dug right into his kneecap . Considering the drill still plugged in set next to him, completely wiped clean, it didn't take a genius to figure out what happened.

A small trickle of blood still seemed to be still leaking out, sluggishly making it's way down his leg.

Ignoring the shiver that raced up her spine, Wendy moved her eyes upward, taking in the vomit-crusted undershirt and jacket and finally landing to the man's face.

Blended mush that used to be his eyes leaked out of empty sockets, an ugly rotting yellow along with dried pus and blood. A few flies feasted on the gore, buzzing loudly in simple enjoyment.

The top of his head was even worse. Another hole was found between his eyes and bits of dried up gray matter hung out limply.

Wendy swallowed down her pity and sadness for the man. Very carefully, she stepped closer to the corpse, trying to get a closer look. Moving to the right slightly, she saw more bits of brain poking out behind the ear. A quick check to the left confirmed the same to the other side in the exact same place.

Wendy straightened herself up from the crouched position she had taken, eyes narrowing in thought. This guy- this killer was nothing if not precise.

"Well?" The cop from before asked her, face holding a slightly green tint.

She sighed. "Same guy I've been chasing, all right. Looks like this victim was killed at least a day ago, if not two."

"Any chance of getting him?"

"Not likely." Wendy growled, frustration creeping up on her. "He's probably long gone by now."

The cop next to her shuddered quite visibly. "What type of sick fucker does this to another human being?"

"I don-"

"Wait a minute!" The cop interrupted her, taking a few large steps towards the drill next to the body. Careful not to get too close to the victim, he lowered himself to peer at the innocent-looking tool, eyes wide in disbelief.

"What?" Wendy snapped, irritated for being cut off.

"This was bought in town."

Wendy was right next to the cop in a flash.

"What?" She gasped.

He nodded. "This is from the local Lowe's. I've seen it's model in there and, well, it looks brand new."

Indeed, despite what the drill was used for, it looked brand new, yellow plastic and metal still shiny.

"That means the killer bought it here..." Wendy's eyes got impossibly wide, true excitement and giddiness.

A lead.

A first honest-to-God lead.

"The-the cameras!" Wendy stuttered, stumbling back away from the scene. "They're on all the time! The killer must be on it!"

Wendy's entire body shook from the revelation. After sixteen murders, after passing through eight states with nothing but corpses, she finally had something.

She was finally going to capture this monster.

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L vwloo gr.

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I hope you guys enjoyed that.

It'll get worse as things go on. That was the weakest torture scene in the entire story so if it made you sick...well, this story might not be for you.

I'm just making sure you guys are comfortable reading this. I don't want to make anyone sick or trigger anyone for any reason.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and don't forget to review. I love reading what you guys think!

As always, thanks for reading!