"Warning: Warning: Experiment 1-9-6-1-8 has escaped its confinement. I repeat, Experiment 1-9-6-1-8 has escaped its confinement."
The robotic sounding voice of the Gatherer echoed throughout the halls, the PA system sounding like it was filling the entire structure of the building. He didn't know what planet he was on, or even what type of universe he was in. All he knew was that he had to get away. Every time she repeated 'Experiment 1-9-6-1-8' a part of his entire being froze, but he used that helpless feeling to drive his urge to escape.
"There is to be no mass panic. I shall deal personally with those who instate it. You are simply to return to your set stations and await orders. Notify me immediately if any information about 1-9-6-1-8 becomes available." Her voice was slow and cool, like it always was, without a hint of emotion. He found himself shuddering with every word she spoke.
He was dashing through the halls, staying inside of the shadows. He was lucky the only clothes he ever wore were grey, or he'd have an even harder time making sure he got out. He had to get out. He knew that at least.
He turned down a hall, knowing exactly where he should go, even if he'd never been there. It was just there. Probably something to do with one of those last tests... He forced his mind to think of something other than his cell. There was no need to focus on what he was hopefully leaving behind. Everyone should be at their stations, and Blue-09097 and Green-69438 were the only two scheduled for the exit hatch. He knew he could probably take them out. They weren't very advanced in their own...
He froze. Standing directly in front of him was a tall woman (or at least he thought it was a woman), dressed entirely in soft green robes that rested daintily on her thin shoulders and trailed its way to the floor. Her ashen-grey face was calm, and her eyes were condescending.
"Experiment 1-9-6-1-8," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "What are you doing?" Her tone made her sound like a mother scolding a child softly, and he felt his blood run cold. Her yellow eyes bore into him, and he could almost see actual sadness in them, but he knew better than to trust what his human mind told him about her and her species. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears as she took one large graceful step towards him.
He'd been found.
Stan looked up at the portal. The white swirl in the center stilling as a booted foot stepped out and into the room, closely followed by an entire body dressed solely in grey. For the first time in thirty years, Stan was seeing his brother again. He felt elation rise up inside of him, and he heard Dipper ask who that was. A question that Stan was most willing to answer.
"The Author of the Journals," he replied, and was about to finish with 'my brother' when he saw something strange, and utterly wrong.
Attached to Ford's body, poking into the thin outfit he was wearing, were dozens of cables. Wires and the like. They were everywhere, there was one on his wrist and his neck, and they all looked like they'd been sliced away from something by scissors or a knife. As Ford stepped towards him Stan could see the black wires better, and Ford immediately started yanking them off of himself, not seeming to care that there was a bit of blood on his fingers after he had done so.
The cables were tossed to the floor with as much grace as a hippo dancing. Ford stepped past them, swaying ever so slightly, but he regained his balance and continued his steady walk towards the other occupants of the room. Stan realized with a start that his brother's eyes were glowing an electric green and that there were several dark symbols either tattooed or carved into his forehead.
"F- Ford?" He asked, looking at his brother's recently torn outfit. Ford froze, his mouth opening slightly, then he muttered something incomprehensible and stared at Stan, his eyes boring deep into his brother. Stan stared right back, and suddenly he couldn't feel his legs.
A feeling of tight-numbness fell over his feet and legs; like someone had placed too small rubber bands over every inch of them. And the feeling didn't just stay there, it moved up steadily, and the next thing Stanley knew, he couldn't breathe. He was perfectly still, unable to move or make a sound, and all the time Ford just glared at him. Stanley wanted to motion to him that something was wrong, he wanted to communicate that he was... well, dying, but he couldn't do anything, and Ford wasn't going to do anything either.
Finally after what felt like an eternity of only thinking Hot Belgian Waffles! I'm actually dead this time! Stan felt his lungs inflate, and he fell over once he regained feeling. He was wheezing on the ground, his right hand holding his body up while his left clutched at his chest. Within moments Mabel was by his side, asking if he was okay.
"I'm... fine..." he muttered, tilting his head up and seeing Ford, who continued to stare at him, his eyes not nearly so intense. "Just couldn't... breathe there... for a second."
Mabel nodded, kneeling next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Ford's face remained utterly motionless, and Mabel froze once the two of them gained eye contact. Ford's bright green eyes bore into the girl, who stared right back. "What did you do to him!?" She asked, getting back to her feet and taking a step towards Ford, waving a jerky hand at Stan. "Who are you?!"
"Experiment 19618." He said softly, then he closed his eyes for a good five seconds, muttering something under his breath. "Stanford." He corrected, not seeming to notice a small trail of red blood trickling down the side of his left arm. "I'm Stanford Filbrick Pines. I am not an experiment... I'm Stanford Pines..." His eyes opened again, and they weren't as intense as before, more of a dull glow than a burning ember.
"But... Grunkle Stan is Stanford..." Mabel said, a confused expression taking over her previously upset one. "And did you just call yourself an experiment? That's..." She stopped speaking as Ford simply stared at her, his face completely unreadable. Stan had gotten to his feet, and he stepped up next to his niece and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Ford?" asked quietly, and Ford's eyes snapped to his face, the slightest hint of anger showing on his stoic features. "Are you okay? What happened to you?"
"No."
Stan blinked at his brother's solitary word. Ford himself set his shoulders back and looked ready to dash off at a moment's notice, he stared at Stan, who stared right back at him. Ford's left sleeve had a good bit of wetness from the blood, and Stan pointed at it shakily. "Uh... Ford? You're bleeding."
Ford glanced at the redness on his arm, and then back up at his brother. "So it seems. I've had worse." He stood still after that, and Stan nodded, biting his lip and swallowing deeply. "Do you want me to get something for it?" He asked, and Ford shook his head. "It should be fine." He answered, and Stan nodded again.
Just what was on the other side of the portal?
Ford looked up silently at the door as it slid open. A slender... creature walked in, it's grey body dressed in a soft green dress/robe. Its shoes were either non-existent or super quiet, as it made no noise as it walked closer to him. He glared at it but didn't show any other physical signs of fear or anger.
"Hello Experiment 1-9-6-1-8," it, or she as it had a feminine sounding voice, said, folding her long-fingered hands behind her back, "I understand that you are being processed currently." Her voice held no joy, anger, malice, or any emotion really, but it made Ford almost feel like throwing up what little food he had inside of his stomach. The tall woman (she was taller than himself by quite a bit, he thought she had to be at least seven feet) watched him with questioning eyes, and he gave her the pleasure of seeing him nod once.
"Are you enjoying it?" she asked, glancing at a small cable that was attached to a large sticker on the back of his semi-shaved head. He wet his lips, then said in a hushed and snappish voice, "As much as I would enjoy being shredded with a cheese-grater."
"Ah, that is what I love about humans," the woman said, filling in the gap between them and cupping his chin with her left hand, which she pulled from behind her back. She tilted his face up, and with his hands bound behind him he could do nothing to stop her. "You're all so funny. Even the serious ones." Her thin lips remained in a thin line, and Ford gulped once as she leaned towards him.
She stared down at him, and he was forced to stare up at her. He could feel the bottom of the sticker press against the top of his neck, and it was minorly uncomfortable, but uncomfort was better than a lot of other sensations. There was a long pause before she released him, and she asked quietly, "Are you ready to comply? This will all go away if you are."
A small desire to do what she said rested in the back of his mind, but she shook his head. "No." he hissed softly, glaring down at his knees, "Never."
A tiny, saddened hum came from the Gatherer, and he felt an odd electrical sensation run through his head and down his spine. It wasn't strong, but it was only a foreshadowing of what was to come. The Gatherer sighed softly, then turned back towards the door. She took only two long strides and crossed nearly the entire length of the room, coming to the door and resting a thin hand on a handle that appeared with her touch.
She turned towards him slightly, and they made eye contact once again. "It doesn't have to be this way next time." she informed him, her eyelids drooping ever so slightly, "I will be back, and you will have plenty of time to reassess your answer." She turned back to the door and opened it all the way, allowing a third figure, this time entirely dressed in black and wearing a medical mask, to enter. "He said no Avarice. Do what you must."
It took Ford a moment to realize that Avarice had another cord in his hand, and the last thing he truly understood of the situation was a large silver point getting shoved into his right sleeve...
"Uh... It's so good to see you again?"
Stan. Stan was there. Stan had restarted the portal. Stan had gotten Ford out of the Hold. Stan had brought small children, a girl, and a boy. Stan was there. Stan was his brother, his twin. Stan is my twin. Stan rescued me.
All those thoughts ran through Ford's mind as he watched his brother silently. There was no doubt who Stan was. He still had their father's square jaw (come to think of it, he rather looked like Filbrick), and the gut was something that he had maintained over the last... however long it had been. He was wearing a familiar black suit, but Ford didn't remember if he'd ever actually seen it. His hair was covered by another familiar item, a red fez with a symbol on it, and Ford scraped the back of his mind for where he had last seen it.
Holy Mackeral. The Royal Order of the Holy Mackeral. Dates back to the high point of the Achaemenid period. Mostly underground, though a few members persist to this day. Known members include Filbrick-
"Ford? You okay there?"
Pines. Stan is asking a question. Always answer questions. Remember that next time 1-9-6-1-8. Answer me.
"Classified," he said calmly, fighting a strange urge to close his eyes and fall asleep while he was still standing. Stan was looking at him with an expression of concern. Real, actual, almost physical concern. For the first time in decades, someone was actually caring about...
Ford clenched his hands into fists, he felt something inside him click, and he tried to contain whatever happened next. He was half relieved when only Stan's hat flew up and Mabel's hair lifted slightly before flumping down again. The wave hadn't been that strong (he was getting better at reigning them in), but it still shook Stan and the others, making them all shiver.
"What was that?" Stan asked, picking his hat up from off of the ground and dusting it off. His hair was standing on end, and Ford stared at the tips of it solemnly as he put his fez back on. "Nothing of importance." was his quick response, and Stan let out a long and tired sigh.
"Did anything important happen to you?!" He cried, throwing his hands in the air, frustration filling his voice. Stan was frustrated. When people are frustrated they do crazy things. Watch out for things that Stan will do. Now he's asked another question. Don't lie. Lying makes it worse.
Ford nodded slowly, glancing back at the pile of cables and wires just behind him. "I suppose so." He stated, and Stan groaned. "And I suppose you're not going to tell me," he responded, and Ford nodded. He knew he wasn't going to. He couldn't even really explain it to himself.
He looked down at his grey sleeve again and noted how much more blood he'd lost. Pain was something so regular for him that he'd barely noticed it really. It didn't look like it was actually too bad, so he simply left it as it was.
Stan's eyes are drifting to his arm. Stan's eyes are widening. Stan is opening his mouth. Stan is concerned. Stan is concerned about Ford.
"Ford... what happened to you? And don't say nothing," Stan glanced at the pile of wires behind Ford, and Ford froze. Stan's eyes went to his forehead, and he said, "1-9-6-1-8? What's that?"
"Experiment 19618... My code number." Ford said softly, staring dully forward and adding, "The Gatherer..." His voice trailed off, and suddenly it became too much. His eyes widened, and he reached behind his head and grabbed onto something that Stan couldn't see. He tugged, and let out a gasp of pain once whatever he was gripping gave way.
Stan's eyes widened even further and Mabel let out a surprised shout as the last wire was extracted from Ford's body, this one sparking at the end. Ford's eyes closed, and he mumbled, "I had forgotten... Oh, it's so good to have quiet..." He opened them again, they were exactly the same as before, glowing in the dark. "Wait... How long has it been?"
"Thirty years..." Stan whispered, and Ford's eyes grew wide. "Thirty years?" He breathed, his tone an unbelieving one. "I was there for nearly thirty years? No wonder the Gatherer was getting frustrated..."
"Are you ready to comply?"
It was a question he was asked every day. It was a question he had grown to dread and look forward to. The question meant that at least once a day he got to say something that mattered, but it also meant that when he gave his inevitable answer of 'no' more pain would come.
He looked up at the Gatherer, who stared calmly down at him. He was sitting on the floor, they had long since taken any form of bed he had once had, and his entire body ached from the last day's session. His eyes bore into her, and he licked his chapped lips, his stomach growling against his will. He had a nutrient tube now, but it just wasn't as filling as actually eating.
"Never..." He said, his voice sounding half broken. "I'll never join you..."
"Oh, but Experiment 1-9-6-1-8, you already have." the Gatherer responded, taking a step in front of him, placing a hand on his now completely bald head. "There is so little you have to do, and this all goes away." She smiled down at him, her pale white teeth making quite a contrast to her ashen complexion. "All you have to do is pledge yourself to me, it won't be too difficult, and you'll be free."
Ford closed his eyes for a moment but forced himself to look up into hers again. Her yellow eyes had a semblance of compassion, but he knew it was just a facade. "No," he whispered, "I can't... Your freedom is just slavery... I'm not a slave..."
The Gatherer nodded, "Of course not. But do you believe that you will find acceptance anywhere else in the Multiverse?" She smiled softly at him, then continued, "I am offering you acceptance. You reek of Cipher. No one in their right mind, besides myself, would dream of giving you an offer like this." She dropped her hand and held it out to him as if she was going to help him stand up. "Just join me, forget the past, everything is forgiven."
Forget. Forget like Fiddleford. Be like... Fiddleford. Ford.
"I'm Stanford Pines," he mumbled to himself, and the Gatherer dropped her smile. "I'm Stanford Filbrick Pines, and..."
"You are Experiment 1-9-6-1-8, Stanford Pines... is dead." The Gatherer spun around after that, her gown trailing on the floor and making it look like a green puddle was following her movements. "He's ready for more tests Avarice."
The black-hooded figure stepped into the room the moment the Gatherer had left, holding a silver box, which he set on a floating table that followed him in. Ford's eyes widened as he felt the handcuffs tighten on his wrist, then his entire body was jerked up by his hands towards the ceiling. He stared up at his bound hands, which were slightly blue from the loss of circulation, and squeezed his eyes shut as he heard a whirring sound start up.
Today would be a doozy.
Ford didn't talk about his life very much. He normally just spent his days walking around the Shack, up the stairs to the attic, down and around the main floor, and all the way through the basement. He insisted that during the day none of the doors could be locked, not even if it was just a closet, and Stan was sort of scared to say no to him.
He had started tolerating the children. Mabel seemed a bit scared of him, as a lot of things seemed to break around him. Ford shut his mouth whenever he was probed about it and refused to say anything. Dipper was still enthralled by him, following him around with a Journal, asking his questions about the creatures he'd encountered, and Ford seemed actually a bit pleased to talk to Dipper about them.
Stan, on the other hand, was a whole new can of worms. Ford was grateful for him rescuing him, but there was still a tension between them. Stan couldn't even look his brother in the eye anymore, his own eyes were always drawn to the tattoos of his number on his forehead.
But when Weirdmageddon rolled around something changed in Ford's attitude. The minute he saw the X-shaped hole in the sky he looked at Dipper, and said, "Dipper, do you trust me?"
Dipper glanced off into the woods, then nodded. "And will you follow me?" Ford pressed, and Dipper nodded again. "Then do so. Let's go." Ford dashed off into the woods, Dipper following closely behind. The trees above them seemed to notice the rift in the dimension, already looking more sickly than just a few minutes before. Dipper didn't really pay attention though, he was more focused on staying near his uncle.
Ford led Dipper to the clock tower, and let the boy catch his breath before waving him up the stairs. "Come on." He whispered, and Dipper nodded again. The two of them ascended the stairs, and Ford crossed the room without a moment's hesitation and threw the windows open wide.
"Dipper, stay behind me, and come close. As close as you can." Ford ordered, glancing back at his nephew, who crossed the room and pressed himself against Ford. "And take these." Ford reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out a satchel with the Journals inside of it, he handed it to Dipper, then turned back to where he could see Bill.
"Cipher!" He yelled, and Dipper decided that his uncle was crazy. "The jokes on you today!"
Bill spun around, and if he had had a mouth it would have a cocky grin. "Oh really?" he asked, batting an eye at Ford. "And what makes you think that... Are those tattoos on your forehead?"
Most of the time when you mentioned Ford's tattoos or strange occurrences that happened around him he'd just write it off or leave the room, but this time Ford actually just smiled. "Yes, yes there are." He said, holding his arms out wide, almost like he was going to ask Bill for a hug. "You know, I've started to try to use my own, and other people's mistakes to better myself, and now I'm just glad these last thirty years are going to pay off."
Bill laughed, "What are you going to do?" the triangle asked, glancing back at his friends, then back to Ford. "Hug me to death?"
"Oh, I'm going to do so much more than that," Ford said, curling his hands into fists, and closing his eyes. For a moment there was complete silence, then Bill burst out into crazed laughter. "The nerd thinks his look of constipation will get rid of me!" Bill exclaimed, spinning around again and waving his hand out towards Ford. "Can you believe this-"
Before Bill could finish his sentence a large shock wave rumbled out away from the group. Bill turned around again just in time to see yet another visible one rush at him and engulf his new body. The second was larger and had more force, this time actually shoving Bill and his friends away from the church.
The next one came a second later, closely followed by a fifth and sixth. This time entire non-destroyed buildings started getting shaken into dust. And by the tenth blast Bill himself looked down and saw chunks of his body flaking away, the shocks coming too quick for his body to regenerate.
Shortly after that there was no sign of the yellow triangle, and the landscape began to change. The blasts stopped as soon as the hole in the sky was gone, and Dipper stopped clinging to Ford like he had been ever since the first shock had happened.
Ford closed his eyes, a sigh escaping him, and he dropped his arms to his sides. He opened his eyes a moment later and said quietly and monotonously, "Well, that's something I hope I never have to use again."
"What... How... What did... How did you do that?!" Dipper exclaimed, dashing over to the window and peering out at the place where Bill and his friends had been only a few minutes before. Ford stepped over next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Biological warfare. Extraterrestial biological warfare. It would be fascinating if it hadn't been so painful."
Dipper's eyes widened and he looked up into Ford's tired face. "I know it was bad how you got it, but that was awesome." Ford nodded once, then said, "Well, we better go find your sister."
That was surprisingly easy. Thanks to Stan for that.
Hello guys! It's me again.
I got this idea a few days ago, and wrote this chapter the last couple of days. Basically, somewhere in the first couple of years into Ford's journeys through the Multiverse he gets captured by this Gatherer person, who really wants like a superpowered-Winter Soldier guy. Well, Ford has no choice but to give into the superpower part, but he absolutely didn't become a mindless killer-soldier.
Yeah, he gets messed up.
That first part where Stan can't feel his legs or breathe, yeah, that was Ford. I basically let him be able to like, freeze the blood inside of someone. (I may or may not have been inspired by Avatar...) Ford will probably like, try to block out those memories. Ooh... Now I'm getting a bit of inspiration from the end of this... Hmm...
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks kiana1132 and PeachySnow for the reviews! I hope you all have a great rest of your day! Feel free to ask me questions or send prompts!
And, 15,000 views! Whoo-hoo! Thank you all so much! You're amazing!
-BrilliantLight