Ford had not expected to ever see his former pet again-particularly not now, not while the world was falling to pieces around him thanks to the whims of a maniacal demon. But there he was, standing in the doorway of the open bunker and looking very, very smug as he glanced up at the blood red skies overhead, then back to Ford.
"...You know, it took me a while, but I finally figured out your character," Shifty mused aloud.
Slowly he began to saunter forward, changing shape as he did until he was the doppelgänger of Ford.
"You try so hard to be the all-knowing, invulnerable hero-" he did an exaggerated heroic pose as he came closer- "but you're not as good at it as you pretend to be, are you?"
"Get out of my way." Ford's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I don't have time for mind games with you."
Shifty just smirked at him, and didn't budge.
With a growl Ford surged forward, ready to break every bone in his body if he had to, and reached out to shove him aside-but the shapeshifter caught his wrist in a sudden lightning grip, squeezing with far more strength than his outer form showed, and shoved him back without releasing him.
"People have hurt you, haven't they?" he asked, changing shape again. Ford blinked, and even after all these years and knowing it wasn't real, he flinched as the form of his father appeared in front of him.
"They didn't believe in you," his deep voice rumbled, clearly staring at him despite the shaded glasses hiding his eyes.
Shifty changed again, until it was a much smaller figure who stared up at him with a mixture of hurt and reproach.
"They didn't live up to your expectations," Mabel muttered.
Ford spluttered and tried unsuccessfully to pull free, to offer some kind of rebuttal or explanation-
Shifty changed again.
"Didn't need you." The mockery of a young teenage Stan lifted Ford's hand, tapped his own against it in an impression of a high six. "Left you."
Ford managed to pull free at last, but tripped over his feet and hit the ground with a thud, scrambling to get away, grab his weapon, figure out how to save the world, something-
Shifty wasn't finished. "But did you ever stop to think, maybe they're not the problem?"
Ford froze, and looked up as the shapeshifter changed again into another, familiar form.
"It's you." Somehow Shifty managed to impersonate Fiddleford's sad, hurt tone perfectly. "You drive them away, Stanford."
For a moment, all Ford could do was sit there and stare at him, trying to process what he'd just heard. Try to deny to himself that there was any truth to it.
"...Why are you doing this?" he whispered at last, in a soft, quivery voice.
"It's for your own good, master." His former pet trembled in suppressed rage for a second, but then knelt down to his level and smiled another of those smug smiles.
"We both know this is never what you really wanted."
No, I don't know how Shifty knows all this either. This is a purely self-indulgent angst fic.