Stan got out of his chair and went through the door to the shop. Dipper and Mabel could only look at each other, as did Wendy and Soos. When Stan came back—
"Uh—G-Grunkle Stan, do you know how to use that thing? "Mabel asked, seeing that Stan had retrieved the large gun that Ford usually carried.
"No, Mabel, I don't." Stan answered. "Right now, though, I can see it's got a trigger, and most guns work by pulling the trigger. I'm going back out to the forest and I'm going to track that thing down. No one messes with my brother and gets away with it. "
Behind him, Dipper heard Soos *gulp*. None of the young people had ever seen Stan this angry.
Stan turned and headed for the door. "Now, if you kids want to follow me, that's fine. If things get dangerous, though, I want all four of you out of the way—got it? "
"Y-yes, sir, Mister Pines." Soos said, casting a nervous glance at Wendy, who mirrored the glance.
They all followed Stan out the door – though at a bit of a distance.
Grrrrrowrrrr!
Ford tried to think of something besides his empty stomach—for hours he had tried to think of something other than the situation he was in. All of the crazy monsters he'd encountered and fought with in that other dimension—at least he'd escaped from all of them. Now that he'd finally gotten home, and he was the captive of another monster—and he was beginning to wonder if he'd ever see his twin brother again.
"My goodness, what was that? " the shape shifter said, looking up from the book it was perusing.
Ford drew a ragged breath and exhaled, but didn't answer.
His captor got up, walked over to where the bowie knife still lay on the floor, and picked it up. Coming closer to Ford, he grabbed a handful of his dark grey hair and pulled his head back. Ford felt the cold blade of the knife against his throat.
"I said," the shape shifter hissed, "What was that? "
"I—I'm either hungry or I—just have gasses moving around in my digestive tract." Ford answered. "P-please-please don't—"
The shape shifter pressed the knife blade a bit harder into Ford's throat, and then pulled it away. "Oh, don't worry. You're not going to get off that easily. I was just looking through this book—" it held up the book it had been reading—Modern Methods of Torture-"—searching for something else I can do to you. No—no quick deaths for you. It is going to be slow, uncomfortable and painful. "
Ford tried to choke back a sob, but was unsuccessful.
"Tsk," Ford's captor said, lifting his captive's chin and looking him in the eye. "Now, now—that's hardly any way for a man of your age to react. Save your crying and screaming for the next thing I try on you. "
It cast the knife away again and went back to sitting by the wall and looking at the book.
Ford turned his head to face the building door, and a tear slid down his cheek.