Brownie did eventually release the coffee machine, if only to stop Ford from destroying her webs before she could consume them. The Dungeon was annoyed at her for this. Brownie and The Dungeon were not speaking right now. As if! She had finally gotten her big break- growth! Magic! Maybe she’d even become a boss monster! And her dungeon threw his core at an adventurer. One that SHE was fighting no less! If she had bound herself to a suicidal Dungeon, could he at least imbue her before he pulled a stunt like that?
The adventurer seemed to agree with Brownie, as he was currently shouting while cradling the core in his hands. She swallowed the last strand of her web and backed away from the coffee machine, it had taken her some time, and the adventurer hadn’t stopped yelling in that entire span. Brownie crawled away from the machine and waited for him to notice. It took less time than she expected. He seemed to deflate, and he turned toward her with a calculating expression his face.
He opened a drawer and gently set the core on the countertop. Brownie instantly scrambled over it. The adventurer threw unused forks, butter knives and spoons onto the counter next to the core. They clattered noisily as he let them fall and he glanced around again before opening a second drawer and pulling out a hand towel. The adventurer glanced at the core, looking at Brownie uneasily. She scampered off, still keeping an eye on him.
He wrapped the core in the towel and shoved it into the very back of the drawer. Brownie tapped her legs in approval. He turned around and began to rummage through another drawer before pulling out a vial of a brightly colored pink-purple liquid in a vial, he shut the drawer and uncorked the vial, pouring it on the edges. He waited a moment before tossing the vial on the floor, the glass fusing together in a globby pile instead of shattering. Then he gave the drawer a sharp tug. It didn’t even budge.
The adventurer nodded to himself before speaking again, Brownie couldn’t understand him, but she decided that she agreed. She wasn’t sure if he had taken pity on The Dungeon, or if he was trying to get the Boon himself, but either way, she would tolerate his presence.
-------
Stan watched as Ford superglued the rock into a drawer. He couldn’t exactly complain about it, since it would probably stop him from doing something stupid again, but he still felt like Ford was trying to baby proof (or ghost proof?) his kitchen. Ford poured himself another cup of stale coffee, now that he had stopped yelling his hands were shaking again and little drips spilled onto the floor, soaking up the dust.
He slumped into the same chair he had earlier, set the cup on the table and rubbed his eyes. He pulled off his trench coat and tossed it on the table. Ford opened his mouth, then looked around, seemingly searching for something to focus on. Stan sat in the other chair and kicked it to make it creak. Ford turned to look at the chair, and sighed.
“…I… I’m going to go on a trip.” Ford said, “A… camping trip. In the mountains.”
Stan laughed, he couldn’t help it. Ford looked like a strong breeze could bowl him over, not to mention the literal blizzard going on.
“I might not come back.” Ford said, Ford, who had just lost a fight to a spider.
“Yeah duh. Which is why you’re not going.” Stan said, leaning back.
“You… have no reason to want me here, I have adjusted my will to keep the house empty, that should at least keep people away until you’re strong enough to fight them off.” Ford continued.
“I will have Brownie attack you if you try and leave this room. She is poisonous, 90% sure.” Stan said, Brownie seemed to give him a dirty look, “Or, venomous? Whatever.”
“I’m sorry. I never should have called you here.” Ford said, picking up his coffee and gulping it.
“…All things considered? I wish you hadn’t shot me, but the way you’re talking makes me glad that you did.” Stan said, signaling Brownie, who began to scramble over to the table.
“I… I don’t know exactly what your going through, my research on the inherit core was… inconclusive to say the least but-“ Ford looked at the chair, and Stan pretended that he could actually see him. “You were always good at adapting, and I- I wish you luck.”
“This feels too much like your tryin’ to say goodbye Sixer.” Stan said,
Ford chugged the rest of his coffee and stood up. Stan didn’t even have to tell Brownie what to do.
The spider crawled up Ford’s leg. He shouted and stumbled back, frantically trying to slap at himself. Ford tripped over his chair and fell backward. His head hitting the floorboards with a worrying crack that made Stan instantly jump to his side.
“Overdo it much?” He hissed at Brownie, who crawled out from his shirt and looked up at Stan innocently while sitting on his tie.
Stan was trying to make sure Ford hadn’t fallen on any broken glass when he suddenly sat up and swatted Brownie away as if he hadn’t been terrified of her a moment ago. He closed and opened each eye at a time. Stan squinted at him, his pupils looked weird- had he gotten a concussion-
“Heya Mac! I’ve been wanting to talk to you!” Ford said,
He turned to look at him. Directly at him. Stan found himself backing into the table.
“You can call me Bill. Bill Cipher. I’m a friend of that murderous twin of yours! Didn’t think he had it in him to be honest.” Ford(?) said, standing up unsteadily, he looked like a marionette on strings.
Brownie jumped up on the table, right beside Stan’s hand. “Hi …Bill… how’s your head?”
“Oh, delightful! I think there might be some blood pooling under Sixer’s skin here.” Bill said,
“…great.” Stan said,
“Now that pleasantries are out of the way,” Bill said, picking up Ford’s chair and sitting on it, leaning back and crossing his legs. “Lets talk business Mackerel.” He gestured for Stan to sit.
Stan swallowed and slipped into his chair. What was this? Did Ford have an evil alternate personality or something? This guy reminded him of Rico. “What business?”
“Look. If you wanted revenge on ol’Fordsy here, you would’ve found a way to take it by now. Which means… you actually care about this useless meat sack.” Bill said, grinning as if he had won the lottery.
“Eh, maybe. Maybe not. What’s it to you?” Stan said, keeping his expression neutral.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“To me? Oh nothing.” Bill said, “Just means that I can do this!”
He kicked off the table and went limp, the chair crashed onto the ground, taking Ford, or Bill, or whatever with it.
“Hey!” Stan said,
Bill was laughing. Completely obvious to the pieces of glass sticking out of Ford’s arms.
He stood up and picked the chair up once more. Sitting back down.
“What’s your point?” Stan said,
“Simple! I’m going to kill your brother tomorrow, unless you do something to make me change my mind.” Bill said, still grinning as blood dripped down Ford’s clothes.
Stan didn’t doubt him. “Why would I care. That jerk killed me.”
“Oh you care fishy.” Bill said, leaning forward. “You’re too stupid not to. Like a dog, just begging its owner to kick it. You even come when called! Hah. Thirteen years and all it took was two little words on a postcard! Pathetic.”
Stan gritted his teeth. “What do you want.”
“Simple! Down in the basement is a machine. I want you to turn it on.” Bill said,
“Look, Bill, I didn’t even know there was a basement in this house. I doubt I can physically get down there anyway.” Stan said,
“Oh, don’t worry about that!” Bill said, “I’ll cut you a deal.”
“What?” Stan asked.
“Here! Let me put this in a way that you might understand.” Bill said.
LV 321 DEMON LORD BILL CIPHER WOULD LIKE TO MAKE A SOUL PACT
YOU GAIN:
ULTIMATE POWER
THE LIFE OF STANFORD PINES
HE GAINS:
YOUR ALLEGIANCE
TURNING ON A LITTLE MACHINE IN THE BASEMENT (its basically nothing)
YES? NO?
He seriously thinks that I’m that stupid? “Look, Bill.” Stan made the offer disappear with a thought and stood up. “You wana know the deal? You are going to get out of this house, you are going to get away from my brother, you are going to never come back here, or bother anyone in my family again, and I won’t kill you, got it?”
Bill laughed. “You know what! I accept! I like your spunk kid! Good luck!”
LV 321 DEMON LORD BILL CIPHER HAS ACCEPTED YOUR CONTRACT
Ford slumped back, his eyes fluttered shut, but not before his pupils shifted back to normal. Stan felt uneasy, a strange, triangular shadow shifted across the floor and vanished near the window. He shook his head, and walked over to Ford. Brownie jumped up on the sleeping man’s lap. Shards of glass still poked out of his skin. Stan reached out and plucked one out. Tossing it to the floor. Blood welled in the cut and he bit his lip, it was only a small cut, but he had a lot of them, and based on the amount of scabs and scars, he had probably losing a lot of blood recently. He didn’t have any Band-Aids but… he turned to Brownie.
“Can you make webs that aren’t sticky?” he asked.
She nodded.
Stan sighed in relief.
-----------------------
Ford jolted awake, instantly panicking. His head and arms ached. Where were his glasses? How long had it been? What had Bill- He leaned forward, causing his coat the fall off his shoulders. He looked at it with confusion, somehow it had been draped over him like a blanket-
“Stanley!” He shouted, could Bill have? Of course he could’ve! He-
His glasses were sitting on the table. Ford reached out with a shaking hand and put them on. Shards of glass had been arranged in the shapes of words, it took Ford a moment to calm down enough to read them.
D O N ‘T W O R R Y
How was he supposed to not worry? He picked up his coat and realized that there was something on his arms. It looked like gauze, with spots of red, wrapped around seemingly random places on his skin. He touched it and it felt like silk. He pressed slightly harder and there was a sharp pain. He furrowed his brow and lifted it up, under it was a newly forming red scab. He pressed the gauze back down. Ford put his trench coat on.
He stood up and walked over to the drawer where he had hidden Stan’s core. He tugged on it, the last of the alien adhesive had sealed it properly, and it still didn’t budge. He sighed in relief. He turned to leave, but his eye caught on the window. Orange evening light filtered through the curtain.
What? It couldn’t be that late. He wouldn’t have woken up. Bill would’ve- He said the he would kill him. Ford approached the window and threw open the curtain. The blizzard had finally stopped and he finally noticed the silence. The sun was low in the sky. He had slept past the time limit. Bill had obviously possessed him based on how much his body ached, but- He looked back at the wrappings on his arms. Silk wrappings. Spider Silk. With the spider nowhere to be seen.
“Stan!” He yelled again. No no no- he couldn’t have- he wouldn’t’ve-
The sound of a fork clattering to the ground was the most beautiful thing Ford had ever heard. He was okay- He had-
“You attacked me!” Ford growled. You let Bill out.
Another fork fell to the ground. “Where is that… thing?”
Nothing.
“You don’t know?” Ford said,
Nothing.
“You won’t tell me.”
A spoon this time.
“Stanley, this is important. You didn’t shake his hand did you?” Ford said,
Nothing.
“Drop something if you didn’t shake his hand.” Ford couldn’t stop a small amount of fear leak into his voice.
Another spoon.
He relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. Bill is incredibly dangerous; you can’t make a deal with him under any circumstances.”
Ford began to pace, kicking up dust as he went. “I don’t know why he didn’t kill me but we can’t assume that he is going to let me-“
A knife dropping to the floor interrupted him.
“What?”
Nothing.
“As I was saying, Bill isn’t going to let me live-“
Stan dropped another knife. Ford groaned in annoyance. He walked over to where the small pile of cutlery was forming. He placed them back on the counter.
“Fork is yes, Knife is no, spoon is neither.” Ford said, “Are you going to keep interrupting me?”
A fork clattered to the floor.
“Is something wrong?”
Knife.
Ford rubbed his chin, Stan kept interrupting him every time he mentioned…
“I am going to die.”
Knife.
Ford half smiled, “That’s… nice of you Stan but you can’t stop Bill.”
Knife.
“You think you can stop Bill?”
Spoon.
“Stan he’s an eldritch being of unimaginable power, you can’t stop him.”
Knife.
Ford rolled his eyes. “You can stop Bill.” He said, monotone.
Fork. Knife.
He squinted. “You will stop Bill?”
Fork. Fork. Knife.
Ford bit his tongue, there was no harm in asking… “You stopped Bill.”
Fork.
“He probably tricked you. Made you think you could make him leave.” Ford said.
Knife.
Ford picked up the silverware and put it back on the counter. “You’re either lying or wrong.”
Nothing.
“Stan?”
Nothing.
“Stan, don’t be immature.” Ford said,
Nothing.
“Fine.” Ford said, he reached toward the coffee pot and something clattered to the floor behind him.
A knife.
“I can’t risk falling asleep again. You saw what happened.” Ford said.
Knife.
“You didn’t see what happened or you want me to sleep?” Ford asked.
Knife, Fork.
“I just slept.” Ford said,
A cabinet creaked open, and a long forgotten box of cereal fell onto the counter.
“I’m not hungry.” Ford said,
The box wobbled.
“I’ll eat later.” Ford said, looking at the cereal made him feel nauseous, when was the last time he ate solid food anyway?
A knife.
“Stan.” Ford said
A spoon clattered to the floor innocently.
“Fine!” Ford grabbed the box and walked out of the kitchen. Glass shattered behind him.