Getting Under His Skin
Dipper struck at the older man with the bat until he fainted again, at which point he dropped it and took out the dish towel, tying it over his mouth to gag him. Then he moved aside so Bill could wake him up again.
"Weak, Sir Martin," Bill commented, staring without mercy into the other's terrified eyes. "I really feel no pity for you. This beating is barely sufficing... bruises heal."
"I'm pretty sure I've broken at least one of his ribs by now," Dipper pointed out.
"Probably. You should break more bones. Let's start easy." Bill grabbed one of Martin's wrists and tugged it, laying his hand flat on the floor. "Go on, kid."
Dipper took in a reassuring breath, then slammed the tip of the bat straight down onto a finger as hard as he could. There was a sickening crack, and a muffled groan from the other. He pulled the bat up and brought it down onto another finger.
Bill closed his eye, enjoying the pained grunts.
Once Dipper was done with the fingers, he started to hit the entire hand, but Bill stopped him. "That'll do. Come on, Martin, why don't you fight back?"
The man glared at them with hate, pushing himself up with the uninjured hand, but Dipper simply stood and kicked him solidly in the chest, bringing him right back down.
Martin coughed, curling up slightly.
"The old ones really aren't much fun," Bill mused. "Ah well. Hey, why don't you use your fists to rough up that handsome face of his?"
As much as Dipper didn't like using his own hands, he wasn't going to disobey. He just tried to pretend this was someone he really, really hated, and punched him in the eye. When the other struggled, he shoved him down onto his back and sat on his stomach, pinning him as he beat him with both fists.
Bill laughed nearby, practically cheering Dipper on. "Yes, yes, left hook! Uppercut! Get him right in the nose- that's it!"
Dipper repressed a shudder as his next blow broke Martin's nose, and blood began pouring out of both nostrils. His knuckles were starting to hurt despite how his gloves provided padding. He felt something touch his leg and turned to see that the man was trying to punch him back, but was unable to get a good angle from his current position. Dipper grabbed that arm, closed his eyes, and imagined it was a stick as he broke it.
The other jerked, and if the towel wasn't there, he certainly would have screamed. When Dipper let go of his arm, it fell limply to the carpet.
"Nice. Incapacitate him so he won't struggle during the real fun," Bill said with approval.
Dipper breathed in deeply, collecting himself. Stuff like this was still hard for him to do, but he knew he had to get used to it. It wasn't going to stop any time soon... in fact, it would only get harder. To give himself some time, he glanced around to make sure they were still alone.
He saw one of the cats laying down nearby, its eyes glinting as it watched him. But it seemed pretty calm. The dogs were nowhere to be found.
"Uh... dogs?" he questioned Bill.
"They followed me when I took the girl to her room," Bill replied. "I knocked them out too. Too much trouble. But cats are chill. These ones apparently don't like him much."
"Ah, good." Dipper looked back down, seeing that their victim had tears in his eyes. Several trickles of blood were running down his face and dripping to the carpet. He was still shifting, occasionally kicking his legs, but it was obvious he didn't have much energy. "Now what?"
"Get out that fork. And the knife."
Dipper took the items out. As he put the salt shaker nearby, a thought occurred, and his face grew pale. "Wait, am I gonna..."
"Ever heard of flaying, kid?"
"Oh. That's not as bad as I was thinking."
"What were you thinking?"
"Heh. Well with the salt and silverware I thought that maybe you were gonna make me eat him or something."
"Wow, no, I wouldn't do that. Gross. Human is so lacking in nutrition. The blood isn't bad though. All right, now here's what you're going to do." Bill used their mental connection to quickly explain it to him.
Dipper covered his mouth. You're really going to make me flay him?
Yep! Go on, try it! Use the knife for cutting the skin open, and the fork to peel it off! As easy as cutting a fresh piece of meat for dinner!
Dipper's stomach churned, but he grabbed one of Martin's arms and held it flat against the floor, lowering the blade of the steak knife to it. He pressed it in, feeling the usual resistance, and then the skin tore open. Blood flowed out, and Dipper cut a little further in, then withdrew the knife, pushing the skin up and inserting the fork instead. He could hear muffled cries from the other, and there was movement behind him as Bill went to grab Martin's other arm to keep him from reaching up to tear his gag off. He inhaled and pushed the tongs of the fork in further, trying to rip the skin up, but it only stretched.
"You can push harder than that," Bill said. "Pretend you're raking it across the surface of his arm, except it's not on the surface. Don't hold back on this guy!"
Dipper harshly yanked the fork back, and it tore up a strip of flesh along with it. He felt bile in the back of his throat at the sight of red muscle and yellowish fat, but kept pulling. It was to the man's wrist when he finally took the knife and cut it free. Lifting the stretch of skin, he stared at it, and quickly dropped it.
"See? Not so hard. Wow, look at all that blood. Take off some more."
Dipper started again to the side of the first strip, able to do it more quickly now. Martin was panting and squirming, trying to kick him with more vigor now, as adrenaline and fear pumped through him.
One of the kicks caught Dipper in the side, and he winced, turning to stab his leg. "Stop that!"
"We really should have tied him up," Bill commented.
"Could you paralyze him or something?"
"Certainly." Bill slid his hand under Martin's neck, and the man lost the ability to move anything below his head.
"Can he still feel this?" Dipper asked as he cut another chunk of skin off.
Bill glanced at Martin as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes. Perfectly."
"How long am I supposed to do this for?" Dipper asked, tilting Martin's arm and cutting a larger incision so he could tear off a bigger piece.
"Until I get bored. I can tell he's already regretting everything... of course, he should have thought about that years ago. Right, Sir Martin?" Bill reached up to tear the towel away from his mouth, and he immediately began begging.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said, voice choking up. As Dipper used the fork to hack skin away, he shouted. "Please stop, please, I'll give you whatever you want, anything!"
"Too late for that. I don't take kindly to people like you. You deserve what you're getting. Take solace in the fact that at least I'm not gonna kill you. You're just gonna wish you're dead. Oh, and before we leave, I will be taking whatever I want. Since you so graciously said I could."
When Dipper set aside the strip of skin, Bill said to him, "Hey, here's something fun. Why don't you sprinkle some of that salt in there?"
Just thinking about that made Dipper hesitate, but he picked it up and tapped salt out into the bloody wounds.
Martin screamed, and Dipper almost covered his mouth, but Bill said, "Nah, let his family come."
"Even the kids?"
"Especially the kids."
Dipper smirked, not paying much attention to what he was doing as he poured out more salt. Hearing screams and crying had become common by now. "So much for you being child-friendly."
"I said I would try not to hurt the kids. I never said anything about keeping them from being traumatized. You know, you can do much larger pieces than that. Here, practice on this arm."
As Dipper shifted over to start cutting into the other arm, which happened to be the broken one, Martin yelled again, this time clearly for his wife. Whose name was apparently Elizabeth.
"Aw, they must have named their daughter for her," Bill said. "So sweet. Well, I made little Elisa fall asleep, so she probably won't be coming in here to see this. But the son... if he does, oh well."
"How old is he?" Dipper asked.
"Let me think... eleven, probably? Yes, that's it. Eleven."
"Think he'll try to fight with us?"
"Probably. But a child won't be able to do anything to us."
As Dipper was pulling the last bit of skin from Martin's broken arm, there were rapid footsteps, and a woman in a nightgown slid into the room holding a twelve-gauge shotgun, flicking the lights on. Upon seeing the state of her husband, she backpedaled, crying out his name. Nonetheless, she pumped the gun and took aim.
"Whoa, hold on there, Liz!" Bill threw his arm up, and an invisible force ripped the gun from her hands and threw it across the room. She tried to run after it, but he moved his arm in the other direction and tossed her against the wall.
"Marty!" she cried, trying to get up. "Who are you?! What are you doing?!" Tears rolled down her cheeks and she sobbed as Dipper casually pressed the fork into Martin's exposed muscle, giving it a twist that had him howling in agony.
"Your husband made a deal with me long ago to obtain his intelligence," Bill explained. "He used it to become a very successful businessman and gain wealth. I had done this with the promise that he would pay me back with a portion of his earnings. Well, he had lied to me. Lied and fled far away, and put up protections that even I couldn't get past. Now that he's back here, and without that protection, I'm collecting the debt."
"W-what... what are you?"
"You can call me a demon. And this guy?" Bill gestured to Dipper, who raised the blood-soaked knife in salute. "He's my repo man."
Dipper chuckled. "Hey, should I do legs next?"
"You can if you want. But you know what you should do? See that glass from the broken bottle?"
"Yeah."
"Take a shard of that, and shove it under a fingernail."
That sounded horrifying. Dipper was simultaneously disgusted and excited by the idea. He put the silverware down and picked a piece of glass up.
Elizabeth sank back against the wall, clutching her knees to her chest. "A-are you going to kill him?"
"No, we'll leave him alive," Bill answered. "Barely. As for you... You did nothing wrong. We aren't going to touch you."
"You... you won't get away with this... We'll find you and you'll get locked up for this!"
"I doubt that. I'm not human and my partner is... well, he's very sneaky. He knows how to leave no evidence. He hides his face and covers himself to prevent DNA from being left behind. He's even more clever than your husband, dear lady. And he didn't have to make a deal with a demon to become that way. Now, you stay right there and enjoy the show."
Dipper pushed the glass under the nail of Martin's index finger. Despite his induced paralysis, he managed to jolt, crying out. Pushing harder, Dipper was rewarded with more blood. He angled it up, scraping it against the nail itself, tearing the skin underneath in the process.
He probably could have taken the nail off, but decided it be more painful to leave it like that. He moved on to the next finger.
"Please, stop!" Martin wailed. "Haven't you done enough?!"
"I don't think we've gone far enough," Bill replied. "What do you think, Pine Tree?"
Dipper looked down at the man, his skin-less arms covered in blood, the strange shape of his broken nose, one eye swollen shut, bruises covering his neck and face... and probably the rest of him, but his pajama pants and shirt prevented them from seeing that. It really should be affecting Dipper more to see how wounded he was, and to know that it was because of him... but he really has grown desensitized to it. Maybe that was for the best.
"Honestly... I think he'd look good with some burns." The moment the words left his mouth, Dipper wondered where the hell that came from. But before he could really question himself, Bill laughed gleefully.
"Wow, okay! Let me go microwave a bottle of vegetable oil! You keep pushing that glass under his nails!" Bill flew from the room, and Dipper returned to his task, still trying to figure out why he had thought that. Up until now, he just attacked these people and did whatever Bill told him, he didn't offer suggestions... was he more than just tolerating this now? Was he starting to enjoy it?
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elizabeth get up and run for the shotgun, and he quickly threw his hand out, grasping at the magic that still barely obeyed him, and commanding it to stop her. Like reaching with a third arm, he grabbed her around the middle and yanked her back, throwing her to the floor. He released the magic and instantly felt dizzy, but he shook it off.
"I wouldn't do that again, if I were you," he warned. She rubbed her elbow where it had hit the ground, sniffing and crawling toward the doorway. She huddled there, watching him through wide eyes, scared but unable to look away.
Dipper tuned back into Martin's crying as he realized he was still asking him to stop. He was even offering him money, jewelry, a car, whatever he wanted, just no more.
"Sorry man, it's not up to me," he said. "I do what Bill tells me to. But hey, after this, you can tell everyone why this happened. Some will think you're crazy, but others will understand. And if they ever decide to summon Bill, maybe they'll make wiser choices." He pushed a shard in particularly roughly. "Funny how many wise-men are still fools."
Bill returned with a pot, which was filled with a thick, bubbling yellow liquid.
"Did you microwave a metal pot?" Dipper asked incredulously.
"Am I not supposed to do that?"
Dipper eyed the warped edges to it and shrugged. "Eh, it's not our problem. You think that'll do the trick?"
"Yep! Hot oil is an excellent torture device! Unbutton his shirt."
Dipper dropped the glass he was holding and pulled the pajama shirt open. He could see that the bruises did indeed cover more of his body. And on top of that, every time he breathed in, he could see an unevenness on one of his sides. Some of his ribs were broken, then.
"No, no don't!" Elizabeth screamed, realizing what they were about to do. She started to get up, but with a flick of the hand, Bill sent her to her knees again.
Dipper held Martin down as he renewed his struggling with even more panic, and as Bill started tilting the pot, he began to have misgivings. Was this going too far?
Then the boiling oil dripped out, sizzling as it hit the skin, and the man jumped like a frog in hot water. Dipper wrapped an arm around his neck, cutting off his air so he couldn't fight as easily. And it had the added benefit of preventing him from yelling.
Bill twisted his wrist just a little further, turning the drips into a steady trickle. The oil splashed down onto the skin and ran down, leaving angry red lines behind, the skin growing inflamed.
It became extremely difficult for Dipper to hold on to him, but Bill casually reached down with a hand and pinned Martin's legs down, also channeling magic into him to force his muscles to still.
Dipper bit his lip and looked away as the skin began to first flake away, and then tear open.
"Oh, this is going to need some serious skin grafts," Bill laughed maniacally.
Dipper felt Martin go even more limp, and looked down at his face. He had passed out again.
Bill scoffed and carelessly dumped the rest of the oil onto him before throwing the pan aside. "Well that's boring. Now what?"
"We go home," Dipper said hopefully, letting go of the other. This was too much, even for him.
"Hmm... nah. There's gotta be one more thing... oh, I got it. This will be great." Bill handed him the steak knife. "Why don't you cut out his appendix?"
"His... what?!"
"The appendix, you know, that useless thing at the end of the intestine that's not actually used for anything because you evolved beyond the need for it but if it ruptures it's bad news... yeah, just rip that thing out of him. Come on, it'll be fun."
Dipper stared at the knife in his hand, and back at Bill. "I can't just... I'm not going to remove an organ from someone! I don't know anything about surgery, I'd probably end up killing him!"
"Not if you do it quickly." Bill leaned down and pressed a finger to a spot below Martin's belly. "If you make an incision right along here, you can just reach right in there and tug it out, and cut it away from the intestine. Easy. And hey, as long as he or his wife holds something to the wound, he won't bleed out before paramedics arrive. Probably. Go on, it'll be fun."
"No, that's sick. I am not doing that."
Bill's tone quickly changed from amused to dangerous. "Are you defying me?"
Dipper sighed, and said, "I guess I am."
"This is not the time to be brass with me, boy. You cut that man's appendix out right now, and not only that, but I'm also going to make you eat it. You are not in any position to be defying me, and I'm going to make sure you know that!"
"I've done enough to him, Bill!" Dipper stood up, throwing down the knife and stalking out of the room. Before he did, he turned to Elizabeth and said, "Call 911 right now or he's going to die, he's lost a lot of blood and those are third degree burns." While she ran out, he went outside. He soon broke into a run, not sure if Bill was following him or not. Reaching the fence's gate, he found it could be activated from this side, and hit the switch. He slid through the moment it was open wide enough, and ran to his car. Bill was nowhere in sight, but he knew the demon could get back to Gravity Falls in his own ways. He threw the transmission into drive and took off, trying to ignore the tears stinging his eyes.