Neutrino 2000-Nice to hear from ya. Love new-ish faces
Arthur Moon- Shh *cradles you in a hug* It's okay. There there. Soon everything will be clear. Bipper's just creepy. And obsessed with Shooting Star for multiple reasons.
Thank you all for reading. Enjoy this chapter of conflicting intrests. *evil grin*
Somethings are meant to be.
Chapter 11: Lies, Lies, and more Lies
Stan typed away at the old device sleeping under the shack. After years of work he'd finally repaired it. All that's left is getting the three journals then his brother would be back… again.
The old man pinched the bridge of his nose, the onsetting migraine running rampant through his skull. Bipper had done this, locked away memories of the summer's events, but he didn't know Stan as well as he knew Mabel, Soos, and Wendy. He couldn't erase everything. Even then, the memories Bipper had tried to bury didn't stay that way. Mr Mystery is old and senility has started rusting away at locks that wouldn't have been unreliable in young minds.
No, Stan Pines remembered Him. He remembered Bill Cipher too. And Bipper didn't like that.
Speaking of the devil, light footsteps tapped down the hall behind Stan's chair. He didn't need to look to know who it was. After the incident where Mabel evicted the dream demon from his mind, he'd recalled certain events he wasn't permitted to share with anyone. If he did that Bipper really would win. Or at least that seemed to be the case.
"Whatcha' up to Stan?" Bipper's light two-toned voice slid through the air.
"What's it look like, kid." Stan turned from his work to look Bipper in the mask. "Did you get the journal?"
Bipper shrugged his shoulders, a devious grin arching over his face.
"We had a deal." Stan couldn't the growl out his voice. That book his neice held onto for dear life was all he need, just a few pictures of a few pages. He only needed it for at most ten minutes.
"Really? I don't recall shaking on it." The glowing youth tipped lazily back into the air, not caring a stitch about how livid Stan would get. It even seemed like he was trying to provoke a reaction. "You should know better than to trust a demon on their word alone. I did, however, spend a wonderful night with Shooting Star."
"You mother fucker!" Stan hadn't the patients to hold that in. It had been a long time coming and he was going to let this sadistic little shit know it… His anger spluttered out at Bipper's elated expression. This was just another of the demon's attempts at forcing his hand. Typical. "Heh. You really had me going there for a second." Stan leaned back into his chair, giving the demon a knowing glare.
"Oh? What changed your mind?"
"That shit eating grin on your face. Mostly." It was his turn to make a play. Hopefully this time it'll get through. "Then I figured, if there's even a shred of humanity left in ya, you wouldn't hurt a hair on Mabel's head. Fact is you physically can't. Isn't that right?" Bipper stiffened. "I saw the way you held her that night, like it was killing you. It jogged my memory a bit. Looks like you didn't do as good a job as you thought, hu?"
"Fuck."
That actually startled Stan, though it probably shouldn't have. "The Journal or I tell her everything." However Bipper reacted would either prove the con-man's theory or shatter it. It was the only hand he had to play.
"Shooting Star isn't going to just up and give it to me. Besides, I get the book for you, you bring back Sixer, and I have twice the annoying Pines Twins to deal with. No thank you."
Stan grinned. The slippery little demon was trying to dodge the threat. It was a relatively obvious switch, trying to focus the conversation on Ford, the only person who was guaranteed to remember everything. Maybe even the only man that could kill Bipper, too. "Fine, but what do you think happens to this little game of yours if Mabel finds out?"
"You wouldn't dare," Bipper's voice was low and menacing. "You wouldn't fucking dare." The youth's loafers contacted the floor and it suddenly felt like gravity was increasing around Stan. His arrogant sneer at getting under the demon's skin dissolved under the sudden crushing weight.
Stan collapsed to the floor in front of Bipper's feet, the mask no longer obscuring the view of his face from this angle. The piercing golden-brown eyes bore into his soul and he could do little else but gasp for air that refused to fill his heaving lungs
"Let's make on thing clear, Stan. I hate cheaters. Play the game or die, but don't you break the rules."
Just like that the pressure and the being that caused it vanished, leaving Stan to shakily rise to his feet and consider his actions. Bipper was not Bill. This demon didn't underestimate, nor hesitate. This demon was not 'above' throwing away an entertaining toy if it threatened the game. He came close to death just then, and unlike all his prior brushes with it, this time round he didn't know why. That was the most important memory he was missing. Weirdmageden. The Fearamid. The purpose of that obsidian dagger with the pinewood handle. Whose blood coated the blade. The name of the child bleeding out at his feet while Mabel wept into his unmoving chest.
He needed to get Ford back.
Mabel needed the boy back.
Bipper needed to disappear.
This sick little game was almost at an end.
