Stanford pines hummed contentedly as he added some finishing touches to his sketch of the Kraken. He and Stan had returned from their voyage about a week ago and were crashing at the Mystery Shack to rest and restock before heading out again. Their next destination was the Bermuda Triangle. It would definitely be nice to get out of the cold that had descended on Oregon. As much as Ford hated to admit it, the cold sunk a lot deeper into his bones nowadays. Some warm sunshine and tropical beaches would be nice.
His musings were interrupted by a loud growl from his stomach. Instinctively he looked up at the clock and was surprised to see it was 5:30. He had been down in his study for eight hours. This was surprising because Stanley rarely let him work through lunch. He shrugged and stretched slowly. Oh, well. Stan probably got caught up in that soap opera he was so fond of. What was it called? Oh yes, The Duchess Approves. His lips curled up into a smirk. His brother might be tough as nails, but no matter what the man claimed, he had always had a soft spot for romantic shows. It had been so hard to keep a straight face after he caught Stan sobbing over a gallon tub of ice cream as he watched a rerun of the wedding scene.
Ford meandered out of his study, which was now decorated with family pictures and art from Mabel and Dipper. He had burned all the images of that wretched triangle. As he arrived at the main level of the house he was surprised to find it quiet and empty. He slunk softly through the gift shop and into the kitchen, somehow unwilling to break the silence. In the kitchen he found a note on the table reading:
Hi Dr. Pines.
Melody and I will be gone all day for a picnic. Mr. Pines went into town for groceries, he should be back in time for lunch.
Stay cool dude,
Soos.
Ford stared at the notes for a few minutes. It was… odd that Stan was so late. Then again, Stan seemed to lose track of time a little more often, since the memory gun.
Ford felt a lump form in his throat. That was something he would never truly be able to forgive himself for, even if it was the only way to defeat Bill and save the kids. He still had nightmares that Stan never remembered him or that Bill caught on at the last minute and he was left with a brain-dead brother as Bill destroyed the world. There were also the moments when Stan would look confused when he mentioned something from their childhood.
He shook his head now was not the time to be dwelling on that. Stan was way past due to return home. He would have to go out and look for him. Just to be sure.
It didn't take long to locate Stan's car when he got into town. The grocery store was the first place he had planned to check and the familiar red Diablo was parked in the alley alongside it.
Ford wandered inside, trying to ignore the stares and whispers. Despite the fact that the whole town was pretending that Weirdmageddon never happened, they insisted on treating the Pines brothers like heroes whenever they came into town. He suspected they were also especially curious about him, given his reputation as the "mysterious scientist" who knew Bill personally.
He drew his collar up and shoved his hands into his pockets as he approached the casher
"May I help you, Sir?"
"Yes, have you seen my brother around?" Ford asked.
She blinked at him, then nodded.
"Yeah, Mr. Pines was stopped by around eleven or so."
Stanford's heart started beating faster.
"His cars still here," He said softly, more to himself then her.
"Maybe he got sidetrack by someone, he's really popular right now" Said the checker with a shrug, starting on the next costumer in line.
"Maybe," Ford agreed, but that did nothing to stop the growing feeling of fear in his chest.
"Excuse me I have to go."
Ford spun on his heel and was out the door before she even had a chance to respond.
He all but ran to the car. He stopped for a second and took a deep breath. Panic had never helped him in the past. After a moment he began to look over the Diablo slowly and methodically. He tugged all the handles and found them to be locked. Next he peered into the car. He could see no groceries. He retrieved the spare key from the underside of the car and opened the trunk. Nothing. Unless Stan had been running around with groceries for the past 6 hours something was very amiss.
He crouched down and began to scan the ground. Then, by the door of the car, He found his first clue. Blood. The familiar dried brown flecks decorated a heavily scuffed up area of gravel. If he had been anxious before, it was nothing compared to the full blown terror he felt now.