the worst of the worst. [gravity falls fanfiction] WIP

Prologue

He slammed into the back of the rocks with a loud crack, a large shadow looming over his limp body. Another character cackles, poising his hands above his head as he swings to grab the injured man by the head.

The injured man wails, differing his posture to try to escape from this grip. He trembles, the pain searing into his back made him seemingly oblivious to the fact that there were bystanders. Instead, he only focused on slipping free from this hold, unaware of the big, heavily saturated eye that watched him.

Our injured character is Stanford Pines, the author of the infamous journals that Dipper Pines has been 'swooning' over for the past few months of the summer. Whom is he fighting? you may ask. That's Bill, a twisted, mortifying isosceles dream demon with powers only few could imagine.

Bill cackled, displaying an emotion of delight and amusement. He clutches his free hand to his 'stomach', "Oh-ho, looks like Mr. Braniac isn't so smart after all!" He turns Ford towards him, both of the characters' emotions conflicted with each other. Ford struggles free from the grip and falls into another of cipher's hands. He pants, his voice so hoarse that it sympathised with pain and torture.

Bill locked 'eyes' with the struggling man, watching blood pour from a wound in his back. "Struggling?" He asks, toying with Ford. Stanford Pines coughs, struggling to his feet. He clutches his stomach, sparing no effort to make a remark. "You-" he mutters in a low voice, allowing his vocals to recover, "I'll murder you the next time you touch my family! I don't care what you do to me, or what happens to me, I'll make sure they'll stay safe!"

Bill chortled, enlightened by this 'speech', either that or it was a threat, whatever. "You haven't done a very good job at that, have ya?'" He asks, picking up ford by the finger and chucking him into the thick, resilient and sturdy oak of a tree.

Ford barely has time to react, he had hit the tree with such force that a rib-bone positioned itself to aim a blow at his lungs, which it did successfully. He inhaled sharply, repeating a word in his head over and over and over again, for he didn't want to die.

Bill lowered himself so his feet brushed against the ground. He gazed at Ford hesitantly before stepping towards him and picking him up with pinched fingers like he was a vile, rotting corpse. Cipher arched a brow, knowing better than to kill off a potentially valuable asset. "Say, do you want to make a deal like old times?" He asked with a hint of serotonin, clearing his throat.

Ford didn't reply, his painstakingly narrowed eyes just continued to gaze at Bill as his arms wrapped around his stomach. Ford heaved from the effort it took to stay alive, trying not to give into the sweet, sweet abyss of death.

"Whats the catch?" He finally asks, his voice weak and brittle.

Cipher glared at Ford uncertainly for a second, "If you join me and my henchmen, or, supply me with information and be *my* assistent, i'll prevent your death."

Stanford shakily withdrew a breath, having a silent debate in his head.

"Tick-tock fordsy." He slightly threatened.

Ford shook his head, despite being given the opportunity to live, he declined it, for he knew the danger to mankind it could cause. Cipher narrowed his eye, slightly shocked, "Fine then, have it your way, I'll just torture your family instead." He turned his back to Ford, beginning to float away.

Ford leant against the tree, positioning a hand onto the oak to support himself as he staggered to his feet. He flinched, feeling his airway close up even more, though, it wasn't because of his injuries. Two brilliant, dazziling chains clamped against Fords neck, relieving his breathing but causing blood to lightly splurt out of his neck.

He panicked, clutching the chains with his hands, pulling and tugging at them in a pathetic attempt to get them off. It turns out that Bill, who had been planning this all along, forced Stanford into a state of thought as a distraction. Cipher cackled immensely, turning round to face him.

Ford yowled as pain so tortureous scorched his wounds that it felt like he was being torn in half, physically, by a higher being. Bill yanked on the chains and they both vanished into thin air, the only evidence of Ford being kidnapped consisted of his cracked glasses that lay stained an a large puddle of his own blood.