Summary: Once of Bill Cipher’s henchmen takes an opportunity to take their boss down a peg or two. In the process, they inadvertently show their human prisoner the first modicum of anything resembling kindness he’s encountered in days.



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Proverbs 12:10 - The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.

“Gotta hand it to you, Sixer,” Bill commented, his tone still disturbingly cheerful, but laced with an undercurrent of building rage that made the other monsters in the room keep shooting each other uneasy glances. “You sure know how to get under a guy’s nonexistent skin.” The still figure dangling limply from the ceiling, suspended by the chains clamped tightly around his wrists and ankles, made no reply.

In one sudden, vicious movement, Bill grabbed the chains and jerked the human forward, eliciting an involuntary half-scream from the wounded man as his battered body was jostled unmercifully. “Do you want me to forcibly remove your heart from your chest again, kid? Because I can definitely arrange that. Heck, while we’re at it, I might take out a lung or two, just to keep things interesting.” The only response Bill got in response to his threat was a tightening of the human’s bruised jaw as he clenched his teeth and averted his eyes from Bill’s unblinking glare defiantly.

The demon’s eye narrowed dangerously. The subtle magical charge in the air that had been steadily building around Bill for the past few days as the human continued to resist every effort made to force him to talk flared, and every monster in the building instinctively flinched. "Have it your way, then, Fordsey.” He raised his hand, fingers pressed together in a snapping motion, when…

“Hey, boss,” Pyronica stepped forward boldly, her cape swishing behind her with the motion. Bill turned toward her slightly, his fingers still primed to snap. Not even waiting for his reply, she hurried on, determined to say what was on her mind before Bill decided to cut her off. “We, that is, some of the guys and me,” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the rest of the Henchmaniacs, “were talkin’, and we couldn’t help but notice you’re startin’ to seem… just a bit stressed. This sorta thing should be fun, you know? What’s the point if you can’t enjoy yourself? So if you wanna take a quick break, go get some time punch, torment some of the local wildlife, you know, unwind a bit? None of us would mind, boss.”

Kryptos, who had been observing the proceedings from the back of the group, slid partially behind a pillar with an annoyed eye roll. Typical Pyronica, always assuming that because she might have said a few words about something and no one immediately objected, they’d all be fine with whatever plan she came up with. No one had thought to consult him about any of this. As usual. And now here they were dragging him into yet another prospective mess. He didn’t much relish the thought of having to regenerate any part of his anatomy on the off chance their leader decided to throw a tantrum about questioning his judgment or current emotional state.

“Yeah, there’s a group of… what do the locals call ‘em again? Deer? Down there by remains of the old forest,” 8-Ball observed from his perch on one of the windowsills set into the side of the Fear-amid. “We could go, I dunno, eat them or something. Teeth was wondering what they tasted like just a couple days ago.”

“Yup, sure was,” the walking set of dentures interjected cheerfully.

“There, you see?” Pyronica grinned winningly at Bill. “What do you say? Up for a little stroll about town before we get back to the main attraction?”

Bill seemed to give this proposition genuine consideration. “You know what, Pyronica,” he finally said. “I think you may be right.” The chains tethering Ford’s wrists and ankles dissolved into nothingness, though the shackles remained. His body was prevented from immediately plummeting to the ground by the yellow glow that wrapped itself around him for but a moment before Bill violently hurled him across the room. He crashed heavily to the floor, a breathless exclamation of pain escaping him as he slid to a halt, trailing thick smears of crimson across the black stone.

“I can see what you mean, guys,” Bill observed, snapping his fingers. More glowing blue chains sprouted from the nearest wall, attaching themselves to the shackles on each of Ford’s limbs, another collar snapping itself into place around his bruised neck. Kryptos discretely rolled his eye again. As if the human was in any shape to even try going anywhere under his own power in his current condition. Bill had always been a fan of overkill. “That wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it should have been, and that’s just unacceptable. A small break does seem to be in order. Who’s up for rearranging the organs and limbs of a bunch of lower life forms?” A rousing cheer answered his words, and most of the monsters immediately stampeded for the exit.

“Oh, hey boss, aren’t you worried about Six Fingers, you know, dyin’ while we’re out?” Keyhole interjected as he followed Xanthar out of the Fear-amid. “He doesn’t seem to be doing so good.”

“Eh, I don’t plan on being gone long enough for that to happen,” Bill replied with an indifferent wave of one blood-flecked hand. “Trust me, I know his limits better than anyone. It’ll take more than a little rough handling to do him in.” Kryptos shot another dubious look at the tattered, bloody form that passed for their human prisoner from behind his pillar. He wasn’t all that familiar with the creatures himself, but… somehow he doubted that.

“Let him stew for a bit. Think about what he has to look forward to when we get back.” Bill took a moment before following the rest of his underlings out of his castle to have himself a hearty laugh. It was an ugly, cruel sound. “Man, I’m feeling better already! Pyronica, you’ve earned yourself a treat. Everyone, she gets first dibs on the deer. TEETH, I SAID PYRONICA GETS FIRST DIBS GET BACK HERE.”

Kryptos leaned back against the pillar and crossed his arms as Bill and the last of his minions left, sourly glaring at the opposite wall. Yup, as usual, no one even noticed he was gone. Well, they would when they needed to make a joke at someone’s expense, but until then, he might as well not even exist. Well, he’d show them. This wall was way more interesting than watching those freaks tear apart some Earth animals anyway. He could stand here all day. … Okay, the wall was getting boring now.

Kryptos sighed and pushed off the pillar. The huge throne room was eerily empty and still; only the faint sounds of Gideon Gleeful’s miserable, constant dancing on the other side of the room served to break the oppressive silence even a little. The demon shuddered. Ah, who was he trying to kid? The others might not have liked him very much, but they still tolerated him, which was more than he could say that anyone else ever did in his long, long life. It was better than being alone. He might as well go out eventually.

Kryptos lifted off the ground and floated slowly toward the exit. Ah well. Could be worse. Maybe they’d even let him have a deer or one of those funny little black and white striped fuzzy things all to himself to do with as he pleased. What were they called again? Shanks? Skanks? Oh yes, skun-

The rattling of a chain made the blue diamond stop in his tracks, and he turned curiously to where the human still lay where he had fallen. Well… couldn’t hurt to look, right? After considering for moment, Kryptos shrugged and floated over to hover above the prisoner, studying him critically.

Ford lay on his side in a crumpled, broken heap, still securely bound with Bill’s glowing blue chains. He had struggled so long and so forcefully against them that the skin around the shackles was raw and inflamed, steadily oozing thin trickles of blood, which also streamed from his nose and mouth and stained his tattered clothes. By some miracle, his glasses had managed to stay on his face through all the punishment he’d endured without completely shattering, but his eyes behind them were bloodshot, half-lidded, and glazed with terrible pain. Air moved in and out of his lungs in shallow, rattling sobs as a few stray tears slipped down bruised, weathered cheeks, the occasional violent tremor wracking his frame as his body gradually shut down.

Kryptos absently put a hand to his nonexistent chin as he considered the exhausted, suffering man. On the one hand, watching the 3 dimensional fleshsack suffer was kinda fun and all, no denying that. Humans did make the funniest noises when they were in pain. But honestly, without an audience, what good did his suffering do anyone, least of all him? Sure, Bill would say that it just made him more likely to talk later, but considering Ford had already weathered everything Bill had thrown at him thus far without any sign of breaking, Kryptos personally didn’t think that a few hours or however long it took Bill to calm down would make much difference in the long run. And besides - Kryptos’ eye narrowed as an idea struck him, and he grinned, a bit nastily - oh, wouldn’t it be fun to finally pull one over on Bill Cipher himself for a change?

Bill “knew Ford’s limits,” huh? Well, what if he came back only to find his favorite plaything dead despite his prediction and he had to spend the extra bit of time and energy to revive him yet again before they could get back to business? In front of all his underlings no less. Imagining the scenario sent Kryptos into an unabashed giggle fit, before he realized how silly he must look and composed himself. He darted a surreptitious glance around the throne room again, just to make sure they were still alone. Leaving a trail so that Bill could trace this all back to him was an amateurish mistake, and one he definitely did not plan on making. Yup. Still empty. Time to put his plan into action.

He reached down and carelessly grabbed Ford by the shoulder and shoved him onto his back, the rough treatment eliciting a weak, agonized moan from the dying human. He then touched a fingertip to Ford’s heaving chest and concentrated, channeling a small, potent bolt of pure energy straight into his heart. Ford’s eyes widened in pain and shock for a half-second, his back arching reflexively as the energy tore mercilessly through his abused body, before he suddenly went limp. His eyes closed, and with a small, shuddering sigh, his breathing ceased. He did not move again.

Kryptos removed his finger from the dead human’s chest and arranged the body back in the position he’d originally found it. He looked at the small smudges of red staining his gloves when he was through with a slight grimace of detached disgust. Energy briefly flashed across his hands, vaporizing the blood instantly, and he floated over to the door without a backward glance. It wouldn’t do to keep Bill and the others waiting too long.

FIN.

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A/N: Y’know, I find it kind of ironic in the worst possible way that I spent literally months being legitimately terrified that Ford would die in the finale, and I’m ultimately the one who ends up killing him in a fic. >~> But writing this post and contemplating the sheer, utter hell Bill must have put him through between the time he was unfrozen and when he was finally rescued really depressed me, and I found myself wracking my brain for possible ways Ford could have gotten at least some relief from the constant torture Bill inflicted on him for days if not weeks. One of the solutions I came up with? Having one of Bill’s henchmen mercy kill him while Bill is out venting his frustration with life on the surrounding Oregon landscape for a few hours. And then this fic was born because the idea just would not leave me alone.

I figured that out of all Bill’s freaks, Kryptos would be the one most likely to be willing to put Ford out of his misery for a bit, even if it wasn’t for purely altruistic reasons and more to make Bill look bad. I kind of like the idea of Kryptos being the Henchmaniacs’ equivalent of Thompson, which is a headcanon I’ve seen floating around since Weirdmageddon pt. 1 first aired. Heck, even Bill doesn’t seem to like him very much, if his AMAs are anything to go by. And I’m willing to bet my left shoe that the antagonism goes both ways. (That doesn’t mean I think Kryptos is nice, though. Because let’s face it, you don’t get to be part of an intergalactic gang of murderers and criminals hell-bent on destroying entire universes by being a sweet, kindhearted babbu who hates seeing things suffer and wouldn’t hurt a fly.)

