Skulduggery Pleasant + Gravity Falls: Magic & Mysteries Unite!

Interrogating Tex

Sanguine woke in a dimly lit room with a pounding headache.
The last thing he remembered was that Six fingered nerd sending volts of electricity through his body that rendered him unconscious.
"Wait till I get my hands on you, Sixer," he muttered. "I'm gonna-"
"You're gonna what?", asked a steely voice behind him. Sanguine turned.
Sitting on a stool and holding a can of Pitt Cola with a stern expression on his face was Ford. There was something in his eyes that scared Sanguine a little. And that was something, considering that Sanguine wasn't scared of anything; except dying. And not getting paid.
"Er, hey there, Sixer..." Sanguine said hesitantly as he slowly knelt, getting ready to stand. "Didn't see ya there, pal. How's things?"
Ford didn't reply, just kept his eyes on Sanguine.
"Not much of a talker, eh? Strong, silent type? I get it. I get it," Sanguine nodded.
He slowly stood up, keeping his hands out in front, away from his jacket and away from his razor.
"So, if it's alright with you, I think I'm gonna take off."
"Sit down, Sanguine," Ford said. He didn't try to stand, he just sat there with a darkness in his eyes.
"No... No, I don't think I'll sit. I'm not the sittin' type; I'm more of a 'gettin' the hell outta here' type. So if you could just scooch outta the way of the door that's behind you and let me-"
He didn't get to finish his sentence as something hard hit him in the back of the head with a great force; causing him to tumble forward, where Ford shot him with an uppercut to the chin that sent him flying backwards.
He landed on the floor with a thud.
"Ah, Hell...", he winced as he tasted blood. "I think I just bit my damn tongue."
"Shut your mouth. Now." Said another voice.
Sanguine turned his head upward, which hurt to do, and saw Ghastly Bespoke leaning against the wall, with one hand in his trouser pocket and the other was holding a steaming cup of tea. Sanguine suddenly felt very thirsty.
"Bespoke!", he said brightly. "So nice to see ya again. Thanks for not breakin' my arm back in the caves."
Ghastly moved his foot and placed it on Sanguines outstretched right hand.
Before Sanguine could do anything, Ghastly stamped. Sanguine howled and bolted into sitting position as he clutched his broken fingers.
"OW!! What the Hell did you do that for?! I didn't do anything, apart from thankin' ya!"
"That was for earlier."
"Earlier? What did I do to-! Oh, right. When I almost cut your throat," he said with a toothy sneer.
Ghastly scowled and slowly sipped his tea.
Sanguine got up quickly and stood in the middle of the room, keeping a distance between Ghastly and Ford.
"Well, I'd like to say it's been fun, but I'd be lyin'. Now, if you'll excuse me," Sanguine put his feet together and smiled.
He was expecting the wooden floor to crack and for him to sink into the ground and escape to freedom.
What instead happened was that he screamed in agony as volts shot up through his legs and he fell to the floor, again. His legs felt like they were buzzing and pulsating at the same time.
It wasn't a very nice feeling.
"Don't even think about trying to escape," Ford said, standing over a quiet Sanguine.
"I've designed two devices that stop you from tunnelling," he knocked Sanguine's ankles with his foot.
Ford stepped backwards as Sanguine slowly sat up, he kept his mouth shut, just in case his words got him a kick to the face, which was more than likely to happen, as it had happened before.
He pulled up his pant legs to reveal a metal clasp-much like a security monitor-on both of his ankles.
They had symbols carved into the metal and a blinking green light.
"Wow, Sixer. I'm impressed," Sanguine said, smiling up at him.
Ford suddenly rushed forward, grabbed Sanguine by his shirt and yanked him off the floor.
"Listen to me," he said, anger in his steady voice. "Do not call me 'Sixer'! " Ford gave an angry shove and Sanguine landed awkwardly on the couch that Ford used as a bed.
He lay there, spread eagled with his heart pounding in his chest. Ford was not a man to be messed with. He looked over at Ghastly who hadn't moved.
He was smiling. But it wasn't a nice one.
"B-but," Sanguine stammered as he righted himself. "Stanny-Boy gets to call you Sixer!"
"He's my brother. He's allowed to, seeing as how he gave me the nickname in the first place."
"Do I get to call you Sixer?" Ghastly asked with a smile.
Ford's expression softened to a pleasant grin as he turned to Ghastly. "Of course you can. Only family and friends get to use my nickname."
"Ok, so I ain't your brother," Sanguine said standing and stepping forward. "But I can still be your friend. I mean, I did rescue your kiddies from certain-"
Ford threw a left hook so quickly that Sanguine's head snapped back and he landed on the couch once again.
"Wow," Ghastly said as he stepped forward to admire Ford's handiwork. "Nice hit. If my Mother was still here she would be very impressed. I know I am."
"Stanley isn't the only one who knows how to box," Ford said sheepishly as he rubbed his knuckles.
Sanguine didn't say anything, he didn't dare move.
He just lay there, uncomfortably, with a pounding head and a ringing in his ears as the two laughed and shared boxing stories.
'I gotta get outta this hellhole before these two nut jobs give me brain damage!' Sanguine thought to himself.
But he couldn't think of a safe way out that didn't result in him getting a beating, so instead he asked-
"Why am I here?"
Ghastly and Ford turned, like they had just remembered Sanguine was in the room.
"Ah, yes," Ford said and cleared his throat.
All that once, the good humour left him as he sat down on the stool in front of Sanguine.
"Myself and Ghastly volunteered to interrogate you. My Niece and Nephew said that there was something in the caves that you wanted. You need to tell us what it is and what else you're planning."
"And where Dusk went," Ghastly added.
"Yes, yes. That too."
Sanguine sat up and adjusted his jacket.
"What makes you think I'll tell you anythin'?"
"Are you forgetting that little beating we just gave you?", Ghastly asked as he stepped forward and cracked his knuckles.
"I have to admit, I am feelin' a might dizzy," Sanguine said as he rubbed the back of his head. "Feels like I've gone Ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. And do you have anything for these broken fingers of mine? Some Scotch would ease the pain."
Ford huffed as he went to his liquor cabinet, he took out a half drunken bottle of Scotch and a glass, poured it, and handed it to Sanguine, purposely spilling a little on his scuffed cowboy boots.
Sanguine took a sip. "Hmm. Warm," he grimaced as Ford stood there with his arms crossed. "I much prefer my Scotch on the rocks."
"It's either warm Scotch or I ram the whole bottle down your throat..."
Sanguine shrank back in his seat. "Warm Scotch'll do," he said quietly.
"So, come on," Ghastly said impatiently. "What were you and that Vampire after?"
"Hang on, now. Can't a man enjoy his Scotch? Even if it is on the warm side."
Sanguine yelped as the glass he was holding was viciously knocked from his hand and shattered against the far wall.
"Hey! I was drinkin' tha-"
"Enough stalling, Sanguine!", Ford yelled as he grabbed him by the shirt and held him close. "You tell us what you and Dusk are after, and what you're planning, or-!"
"Or what?", Sanguine wrapped his hands, ignoring the pain in his broken fingers, around Ford's throat and pushed back. "What're you gonna do, Sixer? You gonna bore me to death? I know all about you! Back when I knew your dear brother Stanley as 'Woody', he wouldn't shut up about you! Kept goin' on and on and on about how he let his genius of a brother down!"
Ford froze, his fingers uncurling slightly.
Sanguine seized his chance and kicked, his boot slammed into Ford's chest.
He jumped as Ford fell backwards over his stool, clutching his chest.
Sanguine leaped over a wheezing Ford and made for the door, when Ghastly rammed into him and took him off his feet.
They both slammed into the opposite wall, Ghastly holding his arm under Sanguine's chin, he gurgled and choked.
"We're giving you one final chance. Tell us everything or I'm going to break your neck!"
"And I'll dump your corpse in the bottomless pit!", Ford added as he rubbed his chest and got his breathing back in control.
Sanguine stopped squirming and arched an eyebrow. "You really have a bottomless pit?"
"It's more of an infinite loop pit, but yes."
"I don't believe you." Sanguine began to struggle against Ghastly's hold.
Ghastly pressed his body firmly against Sanguine's.
"You've seen this town, you've heard the stories," he hissed at Sanguine. "You really think Stanford's lying? Just tell us what you know, and you won't have to see for yourself."
"I don't have to-"
"Where is Dusk?"
"He skedaddled on outta the caves just before you kind folks showed up!"
"We already know that!" Ford said as he joined Ghastly. "Where did he go?"
"Maybe he went to Church? Who knows with Vamps?"
Ghastly pressed his hold tighter and Sanguine gasped and kicked.
"What is he planning? What is he after?"
"I can't-" gasp "-breathe! Could you maybe-" gasp "-ease up a little?!"
Ghastly loosened his hold, but not too much.
"Thanks," Sanguine coughed on Ghastly's face, but he didn't care.
"Now are you going to tell us?"
"There's a safe house, just past the junkyard. I think it used to be a Pawn Shop?"
"Paul's Pawn Shop," Ford interjected.
"Yeah, yeah. That's it. There's a trapdoor at the back of the shop, leads down to the basement. That's where we meet."
"Who's 'we'?"
"Well, there's Dusk, yours truly. And a group of Vampires that he recruited."
"How many?" Ghastly asked, careful not to let his guard down.
"Excluding the dead ones in the caves; three. Ezra, Dante and Mikhail."
"We'll have to inform Skulduggery, see if he can get us any background information on them," Ghastly said to Ford.
Ford nodded, took out a notepad and pen from his desk and jotted the information down.
"Got it. What else? His plans, what is he after?"
"I-", Sanguine faltered. "I don't know...", he muttered.
"What was that?," Ghastly asked, still holding him against the wall.
"What are ya, deaf as well as ugly? I said 'I don't know'!"
Ghastly let go of Sanguine and drew a fist back to strike him when the door opened.
"Er, hey," Stan said, standing in the threshold. "How's interrogation going?"
"As well as expected," muttered Ford.
"Hey! Woody! Be a pal and call off the dogs, huh?", Sanguine called as he tried to push Ghastly away, but ended up with a punch to the gut. He folded and fell to his knees.
"Cheap shot, Scarface." He wheezed.
Stan scowled. "I'm not your pal, Tex."
"Ah, shoot. Well, that hurts. Figuratively speakin', that is." Sanguine stood, the pain in his stomach making him gasp.
"So, what's gonna happen next?", Stan asked, completely ignoring Sanguine.
Ford handed the notepad to Stan. "Give this to Skulduggery, see if he can get any information on them."
Stan looked at the words scribbled on the page. He groaned.
"What is it now, Stanley?", Ford asked with a sigh.
"You know who owns Paul's Pawn Shop, don't you?"
"I'm going to guess... Paul?"
"Ha-ha," Stan laughed sarcastically.
"Remember back in New Jersey. When Dad grounded us one Summer and we had to work in the family Pawn Shop?"
"I remember it being you're fault, but go on."
"Well, I remember some little snot-nosed punk who stole porcelain figurines and then tried to get his Gramps to sell 'em at their Antique shop."
"Wait...", Ford said as the memory came flooded back. "Yeah, I remember! It was that bundle of porcelain ladies; Mom saw them at Anderson's Antiques. She told Dad and-"
"-he accused me of pawing then to make a quick buck, yeah I remember...", Stan said sadly. It was the first time his old man had ever raised a hand to him.
"Mom managed to sweet talk Old Man Anderson into returning them to us."
"And then his Grandson Paul kept loitering out front, hoping to swipe something else." Stan finished.
"Paul?", Ford asked, everything suddenly clicking into place. "Paul Anderson owns Paul's Pawn Shop?!"
"Got it in one." Stan said dryly, tore off the page and tucked it into his pocket.
"So what's the problem?" Ford asked.
"Because we know him, we don't have to break in."
"What Mom failed to mention," Stan said. "Is that Paul kept one of the figurines. Every time I pass his place, he always stops me and shows me it. Gloating. Taunting. I was this close-" Stan used his thumb and forefinger "-to snatching that damn thing from his hands and breaking it over his head."