Chapter Text
Entry No. 1.
We’re running out of time.
The rainfall was exceptionally heavy for this time of the year, almost ominously so. It hammered the recently renovated roof of the porch so clamorously that it took Soos a good while to distinguish the hasty, repeating knocks on the Mystery Shack’s front door. As he hurried to answer, wondering who it could be at such a late hour, he could hear a grumpy shout familiar enough to make his heart skip in joy:
“Soos, open up, dammit! This damn drencher is washing the wrinkles off my face!”
“Dudes!” Soos chirped happily at the sight of the two completely soaked twin brothers. “The door was open, you could’ve just walked in - it’s still your house, after all! Melody is out of town visiting her parents so there’s plenty of space for you to sleep over here, there’s a broken window in the guesthouse I need to fix… Haha, listen to me rambling, it’s so wonderful to see you two! Come on, come on, step right in!”
Ford coughed a little. “Soos, you’re standing in the way”, he noted amiably in his brother’s stead, who was looking exceptionally bad-tempered today.
“Oh, right! Sorry ‘bout that.” The bearhug Soos attempted to wrap the brothers in as soon as they were inside the house was coldly disregarded as Stan simply marched past him to the living room and slumped on his old chair with a snarl, not even bothering to take off his muddy boots. Ford sighed, gave Soos an apologetic pat on the arm and, after leaving his own shoes and raincoat to the hall, went after his brother.
“Stanley!” he said, crossing his arms strictly. “I know it’s been a rough day, but at least have some basic manners, will you! This is not your house anymore.”
"It’s okay, Mr. Ford”, Soos reassured him, handing both him and Stan a poofy towel. “The Shack is home for you both as much as the two of us. Or… three, give it a few months.” A small smile lit up his slightly concerned expression. It was quite contagious, and the stiff atmosphere loosened a little as Stan clambered up from the chair.
“Yeah, I’ll clean up the mess right away. Uh, sorry about that”, he muttered and directed his slouched steps towards the broom closet upstairs (yet still not bothering to take off his shoes, leaving another trail of mud for himself to clean after).
Ford turned to Soos, his expression bleakened again. “I hope our surprise visit won’t cause you too much trouble. We… lost the Stan-O-War II today. As you can see, Stanley isn’t taking it very well.”
“Oh, dudes…” Soos took off his fez. “I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened? The weather’s been pretty bad lately, but not bad enough to sink a ship… right?”
Ford gazed out of the window into the pouring darkness. “Yes… right. It took a little more than the weather to bring down that old fellow.” He wouldn’t explain any further, and Soos decided to leave it at that for now. As he headed for the kitchen to prepare his guests some hot chocolate, he couldn’t help but notice that the ever-so-youthful anomaly researcher looked much older than during their last visit.
After Stan had finished his attempt of cleaning the carpet (either Ford or Soos would probably have to patch up his work afterwards), the brothers sat down and tried to enjoy Soos’ hospitality, to little avail. The hot drink warmed them up quite a lot, but didn’t do much to the gloomy silence that kept the room in its grip; after a while Soos got up to make beds for the twins upstairs, and Stan proceeded to turn on the TV and stare fixedly at the repeating advertisements of the shopping channel while Ford stood at the window with his hands crossed behind his back, letting out an occasional heavy sigh.
It lasted nearly for a full hour before Stan finally spoke up. “That radar of yours has been awfully quiet today.”
“I turned it off”, Ford answered with a dark expression. “It has little use now that the entire map is flooded with code red. I don’t need a constant reminder of just how bad the situation is.”
“It’s that bad, huh?”
“Yes, Stanley. It’s that bad.”
Another long moment of silence followed. Stan tapped his fingers against the armrest with a deeply furrowed frown. “I bet Rick would know what to do”, he spat out eventually.
Ford turned to him, surprised by his brother’s unexpected proposition. “Sanchez? …Perhaps. Granted, anomalies aren’t his specialty, and I’d rather have someone with knowledge of the local oddities of our Earth and dimension. But I’m sure Rick’s vast knowledge and brilliant mind would be of utmost help.” He nodded. “All right. I will contact him the first thing tomorrow.”
“Great.” Stan looked as though he wasn’t too eager on hearing more of what he often referred to as “nerd talk”, the kind he’d unwillingly been subjected to for countless hours on the Stan-O-War II. He rose up from his chair before it would turn into another of his brother’s parascientific reel-offs.
“I’ll go let Soos know that we’ll be staying a little longer this time. The twins are gonna be here soon, and the guesthouse needs to be patched up. I’ll help him with that as much as my back allows me, so you and Rick can focus on the bigger problems at hand.” He let out a dry snort. “Heh, I wonder how Soos and Melody are gonna take that messy old drunk wandering 'round the house.”
Ford answered him with a short smile. “Well, it’s not like that’d be the strangest thing this place has witnessed.” He turned back to the dark scenery behind the window, disquiet and fright swelling low and heavy in his chest. Before his brother stepped out of the room, he called out for him. “Stanley.”
“Yeah?”
He was silent for a while; one of his six-fingered hands was gripping the other so tight his knuckles were turning white. “If we can’t stop this from advancing further, the entire world will be in danger. It will be worse than anything we’ve seen so far… Worse than Weirdmageddon.” Stan gave a small start at the mention of what had happened four years ago. Even to this day, the freak apocalypse had remained something of a taboo between the two of them. The memory gun incident was still too much to talk about.
Ford turned to face his brother, his eyes dark with weariness. “So I need you to understand that we must avoid this getting out of hand at all costs. If there is a way to stop the worst from happening, we mustn’t hesitate. No matter how irresponsible or dangerous it might seem at first.”
Stan looked at his grave expression and firm stance. He felt like there was something he should be able to read from it, but couldn’t figure it out. “Sure, Poindexter”, he said eventually. “Whatever you say is necessary. I trust your instincts on this one.”
Ford nodded and smiled. “Oh, and Stanley… Once this is over, we’ll build a Stan-O-War III. Bigger and better, with that ridiculous pool extension you always wanted. Even if it’ll reduce the ship’s functionality to a half of what it used to be.”
“Hah, now we’re talking business”, Stan grinned. “You just got my blessing for whatever crazy shenanigans you may have in mind for global damage control. As long as I’m getting that pool, you’re free to knock yourself out for all I care.”
He left, leaving Ford to stand alone in silence only interrupted by the rainfall. But not for long.
As soon as the sound of Stan’s heavy footsteps had disappeared upstairs, Ford walked to the front door, stepped into his boots and headed out, not even bothering to grab his raincoat. He directed his steps towards the woods.
It wasn’t too far from here.
He’d visited the place only once after what had happened, but even in the darkness of the late evening and almost impenetrable downpour, he knew his way there almost instinctively. Through the woods, over the narrow brook, past the thickly growing shrubbery… And there it was.
Stanford Pines stood still. Soaked to the bone, rainwater and drenched curls of silver hair blurring his vision, he stood in front of the triangular stone half buried in the ground, its eye and the hand reaching out left oddly untouched by the moss covering a good half of the rest of it. It was almost like a tombstone… And yet Ford knew its existence signified something entirely different than demise.
I invoke the ancient power that I may return.
The heavy murmur of rain over him couldn’t subdue the storm of bitter emotions that made Ford’s fists shake and heart clench in his chest.