Jorge slipped into the abandoned warehouse, closing the door behind him most of the way and peering out cautiously. Had he lost them?
The last week had been a nightmare.
At first there had been some whispers from friends of his that some suits were looking for him. It wasn't unusual for the government to be observing him. He had done a number of… Well… ethically dubious things. They had never actually gone after him before, so he wasn't worried.
Then a biker gang began tracking him. They were led by a short albino ten-year old. Jorge would have considered this laughable if it were not for the fact the child seemed genuinely psychotic and had some very strong, very nasty characters following him.
He had gone to some gangs that he was affiliated with to weather the threat out, but to his surprise they had denied him shelter. They refused to give him the full story, but he learned that some rich family and a recently minted eccentric millionaire, named Mcgucket or something, had paid them off or threatened them.
This was his first real clue that something was out of the ordinary. While he had quarrels with a number of gangs and new drug dealers would occasionally go after him in attempts to take his place, millionaires were in another ballgame. What did they want with him?
At that point he decided to go stay in a cabin he owned in the woods. That was when things got strange.
Supernatural monsters were waiting for him. His cabin was full of tiny bearded men with sharp teeth. There was some sort of a multi-headed bear monster watching him silently from the trees. A bull man mix charged at him and put a large hole in the door of the car. He barely got away.
Jorge began fleeing in earnest, but everywhere he went something would find him. The biker gang trailed him by day and by night monsters lurked in the shadows, watching his every move. He couldn't sleep because he was sure to wake up to something thumping around in the room. Sometimes eerily glowing eyes would return his flashlight's glare. He was never truly sure if the monsters were all real or simply a product of his crazed sleep-deprived mind.
He fled across multiple state lines, but he couldn't throw them. Jorge was starting to believe they could catch him at any time, but were just toying with him for fun.
Today he had lost his car when a bridge had collapsed beneath it. He had managed to escape, throwing himself out the door and leaping onto the crumbling structure. When he made it off he saw merpeople watching him from just below the tumultuous waves. They called out in eerily accented Spanish, inviting him back into the water.
He shuddered at the memory and turned to slip deeper into the warehouse.
He froze.
The faint light from the high windows revealed shadows of the monsters lurking in the darkness. Light glinted off of horns and glowing eyes. Jorge took a step backward toward the door, ready to make a run for it.
There was the sound of howling motorcycle engines, scattering gravel and yells outside. His pulse sped up. He was trapped.
There was a low growl as the multi-headed bear monster stepped forward. Many, many eyes focused on him and its teeth shone wetly in a sneer. Jorge took a step back and hit the wall.
"This is for the Chief" The monster snarled.
"For the Chief, the Chief!" Hundreds of voices chanted in the shadows
Its clawed paw shot forward and stuck him hard in the face. There was a flash of brilliant pain and then darkness.
Jorge woke up to a splash of cold water to the face. He sputtered indignantly and tried to wipe his face, but his hands wouldn't move. Of course he was tied to a chair.
Such a lovely way to wake up, he thought sarcastically.
His eyes darted around as he tried to get his bearings. He was in a small dark room. The dim light from the crack in the door allowed him to make out several monsters and the white haired kid watching him. The kid was the one holding the bucket. He grinned creepily as they made eye contact.
"Woo-wee, you're in for a world of trouble," The kid said cheerfully.
Before he could snap back a response the door opened. A tall broad shouldered figure entered, silhouetted against the light. The monsters and humans in the room whispered excitedly and then bustled out.
The bear, who must have been standing behind him, paused on the way past the man and gave him a long look and a nod with its main head.
The man returned the nod and the door closed behind him casting the room back into shadow.
After a moment there was a loud shriek as a chair was pulled out and the man sat down opposite him. A bare bulb hanging over the table clicked on.
It took Jorge a moment to adjust to the sudden light, when he did he let a loud curse.
For a moment he thought it was Stanley Pines himself sitting before him, back from the dead. Then he began to pick out features he had not noticed before. A cleft in the chin. A different look to the eyes. A chin far more clean shaven than Stan, who almost always seemed to have a five o'clock shadow.
Then the man folded his hands casually in front of him and Jorge saw the biggest difference: he had six fingers on each hand.
"Who are you?" Jorge snarled, fear beginning to creep up his spine.
"Stanford Filbrick Pines," The man said with a congenial smile that didn't reach his eyes.
There was a long pause as Stanford Pines watched him. Calm, cold, analytical eyes looked over him as if simply by observation they could catalogue his deepest darkest fears secrets. Jorge felt his skin crawl as the image of a bug under a magnifying glass entered his mind.
"What do you want?" He demanded, though at this point he had a pretty good idea.
Stanford hummed thoughtfully taking a sip out of a cup of tea that Jorge had not noticed before.
"Well it seems that you've tried to kill my brother. I'm rather upset about that, even if you didn't succeed."
Figured.
Stanford paused and set the cup down on the table. He stood up his long six-fingered hands entwined behind his back as he circled the room.
"I wonder what I should do about that."
He paused behind Jorge.
"Do you have anything to say, before I make my decision?"
Jorge felt his heart slowly beating faster and faster. Stanford was very different from his brother. Stan had been a stick of dynamite with a short fuse. Stanford, on the other hand, seemed to burn with a cold slow fire. Jorge had no idea what he was about to do and that scared him. He reminded Jorge of another man he had met. That man would act friendly and polite one moment and be slashing you with a knife the next.
Jorge felt a spark of jealously. Stan didn't deserve a man out to avenge him. Fear and anger mixed clouding his judgement and he said:
"Why the fuck do you care so much about that worthless waste of space?"
Stanford froze facing away from Jorge. His back was tense and ramrod straight. His hands clenched together, knuckles turning white. A hint of red appeared at the back of his neck.
"That was a mistake," Stanford Filbrick Pines said in a slow deliberate tone.
Author's note: One chapter to go! Thanks for the comments.
I'm leaving what Ford does to Jorge up to your imaginations.