Suit
The pull was familiar now. Not unwelcome. But Dipper still growled with irritation at its interruption.
He'd noticed how his voice was now accompanied by a reverb. With enough volume, it could rattle the pine forests of Gravity Falls and send every creature in a ten mile radius running. If he could do that from a dimension away, it made sense to think he could do more. But he'd have to do more practice at another time.
Alcor's third eye opened to peer down the line of power like it was the scope of a sniper rifle. It may as well have been. The glow effused in his vision to provide the sights of something new.
A smirk pulled at his lips and displayed all his rounded, human teeth. Oh, this would be hilarious.
The pull grew stronger, pinching at the illusionary skin of his forehead. Drawing his soul to its destination, he let the summons run its course.
He'd fully prepared himself for his arrival. Lighting the circle with blinding, blue-white light. Letting the candles smoke more than physically possible. Creating an aura of power, foreboding, and death. In the real world, the stench of sulfur clung to his decimated clothes. Leathery wings sung as they cut through the air. Claws snapped as he dismissed the theatrics. Too much was too much.
And there he floated in the center of a clearly experimental circle. There were smudges of chalk where the writers had worked out symbols through trial and error. Blood stained the floor, brown in places where it was old and dried. The people gathered wore expressions of exhaustion and triumph. Proverbially: finally.
Yes. People. That was plural.
Alcor had been summoned by his first cult.
Eleven sets of eyes zeroed in on him and he could feel the way their souls dropped in disappointment when they took him in. A floating boy, yes. But a powerful demon, no. He didn't look like much beyond his wings and his claws. Even those were small in comparison to ostentatiously flamboyant decorations that was customary of his kind.
"Charles!" One snapped to another, "You screwed up. Again!"
"I've told you a million times. We can't put much stock in some second-rate, good for nothing folklorist from Canada!"
"She said the research would lead us to the most powerful demon in existence."
"Does this look like the most powerful demon in existence? I'd say no."
"I can hear you, fools." Dipper narrowed his eyes at the two arguing. It didn't do much good to try and tell them apart by their appearances. Every member was wearing a thick robe and hood, uniform from their head to their toes. Instead, he read their souls, distinguishing them by their prominent colors.
Exasperation – otherwise known as Charles – glanced up at Alcor. Beneath his hood, he ran his eyes up and down. "Who… no. What are you?
A stubborn part of Dipper didn't feel like answering the cultist when he used that tone. A demonic part of Alcor didn't want to disclose such information without a deal.
Burn him alive and eat his soul.
No, Patuktuq had provided him with this opportunity. Deals to help him grow in strength and fame. He was about to answer when the woman – Irritation – filled the silence.
"It's a child. Obviously, Charles, if you're too stupid to see that then you shouldn't be designing the array."
The other members of the cult stepped away from the circumference of the circle as Exasperation and Irritation locked into a glaring contest, oblivious. They missed the way sparks began to snap in streams over Alcor's shoulders. An invisible force whipped at his vest and hair. They missed the way a third eye, outlined in gold, widened and stared at the arguing pair.
"ENOUGH!" Dipper roared with the shouting reached an unbearable level.
Silence, aside from the cackling of flames that he'd unconsciously created in his hands, reigned.
"You summoned a demon. Now hows about you stop wasting time and make a deal." He held one hand out to Irritation. "What stupid human desire do you have?"
"You don't look like a demon." She muttered.
Alcor leered. "The Transcendence happened, what? Seven months ago. Geez. How much do you think is actually known about our kind?"
"Not much." Exasperation answered instead, "Which is why we are doing as much research as we can now. Before long, the government will probably make it illegal or something like that."
"Now we're talking. Knowledge?" He examined the way his claws caught the light in his flames. "I can do that."
Exasperation, the educated one apparently, frowned, "That's for upper class demons. Again, who are you?"
Dipper flared his wings and sucked the light from the air of the basement. "I am Alcor the Dreambender." His voice echoed and dislodged dust from the ceiling.
Some sort of discreet tension flowed out of the room. At the unfamiliar title, the cult had made the assumption they were dealing with a low class demon. How very wrong they were.
Kill them for their impertinence.
Whatever human part of Dipper that leaked through tried to rationally point out that such action was pointless and completely unmerited. They didn't deserve it. At least not yet. They hadn't made any sort of egotistical request. But to his demon part, this didn't matter.
"I've never heard of you." Exasperation was saying.
In the company of humans, Dipper began to realize exactly how much he had changed. He had no hesitation. He saw no worth in their souls but pure energy for consumption. He craved to tear them limb from limb. Their thoughts were more transparent than glass.
"Hello?"
They were like ants. Transient. Ephemeral. Insignificant.
"Alcor?"
They were food. And Alcor was hungry.
A hand waved in front of his face and Alcor snapped out of his thoughts. The action was accompanied by the serendipitous sound of Exasperation's wrist as it too snapped. The man wouldn't be waving it in about again. Served him right. Alcor ignored the startled squawk of pain. The man hissed and cradled his arm, putting forth the fantastic effort of smothering any more sounds.
Gathering his power, Alcor let it ooze out into his aura. It's caustic, demonic presence sizzled against the barrier of the circle. He reached his clawed hand out and rested it on the thin membrane, the magic no more than a film of oil beneath his palm. He breathed in furious joy.
It was too easy.
Unlike any demon to precede him, Dipper had grown like an upstart weed. Alcor perused the information available to him. A ranking system that the humans would soon develop put him in the ninetieth percentile in respect to power, and that was in less than a year!
Just like every time before, the barrier clung to his skin as he pushed through. An extra jolt of magic incinerated the remaining scum. Floating onto the human plane, Dipper snapped his wings wide and stretched his claws.
The existential feeling of the stale basement air filled his faux lungs and ran in nearly indiscernible streams across his skin. A giggle expunged Dipper's first breath.
"Terrific!" Alcor said, "This is much better! Now…" he held out his hand to Irritation, "Let's make a deal."
Irritation, the woman, would have been cowering if she had known anything about summoning. Really, it was not typical for a demon to emerge from a protective circle. But her attention glazed right over that fact. Instead, it focused on the cyan flames roiling over his hands and the golden sparks racing over his body like static.
Like a barrage of gunfire, jallitte shot from her aura.
Maybe Exasperation had been summoning Alcor for research, but Irritation had been on a quest for power. And she had found it.
"I want the ability to gain dominion over creatures of the Transcendence."
"That's a broad request." Dipper purred, "To include everything you speak of, I'll need compensation."
"Even before the Transcendence, I knew that demons required deals." Irritation scoffed, "What will it be?"
"I'm a sensible demon. Not but a few souls. With dominion over the creatures of the Transcendence, that should be simple!"
"Deal!" The woman declared with a wide smile.
"Deal." Alcor agreed with a wide smile to match.
Rich. This was just rich. With a handshake, Dipper could see everything. Irritation's perceived victory. Irritation's active planning. A simple child is so easy to fool. Irritation's future downfall, only seconds away.
Alcor sent the heat that flowed under his skin into his hand and through their contact. Irritation's smug expression turned to one of surprise, then bewilderment, then fear. A keen built in her throat, growing louder and higher. She tried to snatch her hand away, the body's reflex to being burned. But Alcor dug his claws into her skin, holding tight even as blood splashed to the floor and added to the collection of stains.
"This is what you wanted." Glee danced in his eyes as he pulled her close and zipped her lips shut with a distortion of reality, "Take it."
The woman shook her head, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and streaking down her face. Her hand was now molted with red and gold. Clear puss gathered into rivulets and dripped to the floor. Flashes of blue alit her irises. A supernatural wind whipped around them.
Alcor cut the connection off abruptly. A mere flick of his hand sent Irritation's limp body skittering off to the side, robe collecting dust and dried blood up off the basement floor. The magical rebound gave him a heady rush. Irritation did not fare so well.
Outside of the statuesque circle of her followers, Irritation vomited. Masses of magic, clots of blood, and other assorted fluids from her stomach added to the mess on the floor. Alcor wrinkled his nose.
"You don't seem to be handling it well." he remarked, both peevishly and amusedly.
No one laughed.
Irritation's wounded extremity had crystalized, geometric golden patterns rose all the way past her elbow. The joints didn't move. In the sapphire fire of the basement, the refraction of light blinked like thousands of eyes.
"Now, I would like my compensation."
"Just go!" Irritation sniffled, voice raw despite her inability to scream during the transformation. Her lips were back to normal, but they were dry, drawn, and pale. "Nab some nasty pixies or stupid gnomes on your way back to your realm!"
Alcor snarled at her impudence, "I gave you a power. Now, use it to pay your dues."
The woman lifted her ruined hand, staring at it like the foreign object it had become. Her brow shifted as she focused on its burning magic. But after a short effort, she gave up, sweating gold.
"It doesn't work."
"It certainly does."
"No it doesn't! You cheating, lying demon!"
"Don't blame me. I gave you what you wanted. But demon magic is powerful and corrosive. If you don't have the will to control it, it will kill you. Good luck." Dipper turned on the other occupants of the room, "In the meantime, I guess I will help myself."
The collection of other humans retreated from the child-like demon before them.
Exasperation, his broken wrist still cradled to his chest, shifted his gaze between Dipper and Irritation. On the waves of exchanges, Alcor could read concern leak from his aura. Despite their arguments, it seemed that the two had a connection… like siblings.
"Not them!" Irritation objected, voice rasping. She was deteriorating rapidly. Heart beating hundreds of times per minute and muscles twitching spasmodically, the magic he'd passed to her consumed her life force. "They aren't even creatures of the Transcendence!"
Dipper waved her away, "We are all 'creatures of the Transcendence'. This is the world we live in now, and we all live in this world. Everything and Everyone is changed. Besides, you didn't bother to distinguish which souls would be your payment. It could have even been your own, stupid human, but to take your soul right now would be pointless."
He flexed his claws, pressing them out so they grew long and sharp. His grin stretched unnaturally. He spread his wings wide and they cast shadows over his victims. They hadn't done anything. Wrong place. Wrong time. Poor humans, his demon side cackled without any pity. The deal had been postponed long enough already. The magic in his belly was souring, like he had the stomach flu.
Their ends were swift, though not without the proper dose of their horror and his entertainment. Fleshbags, the lot of them. How troublesome when all he wanted was the soul. Souls that were cool and smooth against his overheated skin. Souls that filled him, brimming with power, satiating his appetite.
The basement was beyond salvageable. Gore pasted the walls, entrails had joined the stains on the floor, remains dangled from the rafters. The scent of sulfur and burned flesh choked the air. Irritation and Exasperation huddled against each other, not spared the sight or the mess. Eyes were glassy and vacant, unable to look away; robes were plastered, covered in remnants and carnage.
All of it was so liberating. Chaos.
With only two souls left, Dipper could plainly see with his third eye. Brother held sister, dying in his arms. Feverish, sweating gold, and soul fading away. His humanity wondered if this is what it had been like when Bill had possessed him at the moment of the Transcendence.
Had Mabel even had a body to bury?
The thought, though errant, soon consumed him. His every thought. His omniscience searched through the past. His power skipped, like heartbeats. The scene flickered behind his third eye.
Dipper wanted it to stop.
Powerless.
Human.
Dying.
"Take care of her." He choked out before retreating to the mindscape.
No. No. No. NO!
Dipper couldn't be a child. But he couldn't be a demon either. Alcor could be something else entirely. And he could blindside every mortal that crossed his path. Fool them. Cheat them. Swindle them. Like… like Grunkle Stan had. It was a means to an end. Right?
Alcor surveyed his decimated clothes. Child? Hardly.
Flames encased him, almost sentient, like they had been waiting for him to come to this realization.
We are something more.
We are incomprehensible.
We reflect humanity, trust.
But we are not.
The marshmallow vest, with all the stuffing falling from holes in the material, grew fitted. Clothes dissolved into ash, then darkened to midnight and twinkled with stars. Sneakers swapped for snazzy shoes, toed in gold. The trademark, pine tree hat exchanged for a trademark, top hat.
Dipper's suit – Alcor's suit – was darker than the void of the universe. Triangular, gold accents were constantly illuminated by unidentifiable light. Obsidian gloves covered his hands, hiding the way viscous blood dripped off them in the sight of his third eye.
For someone who had never enjoyed formalwear, he didn't question why this meticulous appearance was the epitome of comfort. His suit was perfect. He didn't need his reflection to know that he was dapper as hell, but he summoned a mirror anyway.
It was the perfect distraction. Alcor soon dismissed the scene of one sibling cradling another.
TBC
It's rather pitiful, but I only make progress on this story when I'm stressed – it seems to be the best time to write graphic stuff. Two more chapters to go!