Chapter Text
Legend says that long ago there was a prince of chaos who ruled over the realm of nightmares. One day he realized that his realm was dying, and so he sought to merge it with the world of reality, to bring it to life, and to finally allow him to ascend to his rightful place as king of chaos.
He came to the humans and asked for their help, for he could not touch anything in this world without their aid. The humans he revealed themselves to refused, and in a fit of rage he unleashed devastation so great it nearly tore a hole in our world. The humans banished him back to the nightmare realm and fled to safety.
It is said that he waits there to this day, biding his time until he can once again merge his world with ours.
We know it is only a matter of time until the prince succeeds, and we know that he will grant mercy to those who choose to ally themselves with him. Therefore, this order was founded for one purpose only… To aide in the rise of Bill Cipher.
“Bill Cipher?” Rodney looked up from the pamphlet he was reading to the yellow robed figure who had handed it to him when he entered the basement of the office that housed the temple of the chaos god he had heard whispers of in his dreams. “Isn’t that a little mundane for a chaos demon?”
The Elder in front of him scoffed, “Of course it’s not his real name,” he said. “To hear his true name would drive an ordinary human insane. No, child, Bill Cipher is the name he has chosen to use when working with humans. And trust me when I say, when Bill gains his rightful place as master of our world, you will be rewarded handsomely for working with him.”
Rodney wasn’t sure he was ready to join a cult. But he also wasn’t sure he was willing to put up with another 10 years grinding away in an office for little to no reward. The Elder noticed the conflicted look in Rodney’s face, and spoke up, “All you have to do is bring people to us. That’s it. We’ll give you a steady job in the office up top, as long as you can recruit people to sell our products and spread our influence. The more people you recruit by the time Bill rises to his full strength, the more favorable you will be seen in the eyes of our lord.”
To Rodney, it did seem like it was almost too good to be true. He first found out about this organization when he was looking for a new employer, and then the dreams started, so he figured that was a good sign as any. “What’s the catch?” he asked.
The Elder smiled under his hood. “Just bring in the fresh meat boy, and no harm will ever come to you.”
“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” Rodney replied without a trace of irony or sarcasm. “Good enough for me! Where do I sign?”
The Elder held out his hand, “I’ll draw up the forms right now.” Rodney grasped it, and the Elder replied, “It’s a pleasure doing business with you!”
That was 20 years ago. Rodney was still working at the cult, convincing new hires to go out and sell their products, waiting for the opportunity to make his mark in the organization, so to speak, but that opportunity had yet to emerge. Twenty years had not been kind to the Elder that had recruited him. The man was in his 70s now; he found it difficult to make his way out of the basement temple, but he had been emerging more and more frequently as of late. Rodney was the second highest ranking after him, by virtue of him not yet dying of old age. He wondered if he would continue the cult after the old man had passed. He still believed that Bill would one day plunge the world into chaos, but he was having doubts that it would be within his lifetime.
Rodney was surprised when the Elder slammed a packet down on his desk. He hadn’t been expecting to see the man so soon, and certainly not in the main office. “Yes sir?” he said, trying to regain his composure.
“This is one of the newest recruits, yes?” the Elder asked.
Rodney picked up the packet and examined it. “It appears to be, sir.” To fund the day to day operations of the church they operated a multi-level marketing business where people would buy and sell various inventions and novelties. The most recent one was a new line of vacuums developed by their latest recruit. They were actually of a fairly decent quality, but the kid’s pitch, frankly, sucked, and the organization had more success convincing people to sell the vacuums than actually convincing people to buy them.
“Next time the young man is in,” the Elder paused, as if deep in thought, “Bring him down to me. I see potential in him.”
With that cryptic sentence, the Elder turned to slowly descend back into the temple. Rodney flipped through the packet more closely. He couldn’t think of a recruit to the church who hadn’t asked about the temple first. As far as he could tell, Stan Pines had never shown any interest in anything occult or otherworldly. In fact, he seemed to shy away from the stuff. As far as Rodney could tell he was a decent young man trying to earn an honest living after dropping out of high school. Rubes like that were what provided the main source of the church’s funding, and the Elder had never taken an interest in such a low-level recruit before.
“What’s so interesting about you, Stanley Pines?” Rodney wondered as he gazed at the photo included in his file. He seemed to be an ordinary young man, dressed professionally in suspenders and a bow tie, with his hands folded neatly in front of him for his company identification photo. Rodney felt he was perhaps a little overdressed for his job as a traveling salesman, with his crescent cufflinks and shiny shoes, but Rodney assumed Stan was simply dressing for the job he wanted, not the one he had.
The phone rang, snapping him back to reality. He quickly answered it, putting thoughts of Stan and the Elder out of his mind for now, “Cipher co. We’re here to help,” he answered automatically, returning to his usual routine of managing a sales company that housed a secret cult only a select few knew of.
Rodney stayed late that evening to intercept Stanley when he came to drop off his daily sales report. It was company policy that all lower level recruits drop their things off in person once per day, to keep an eye on their progress, and Stanley had a habit of waiting until nearly everyone was out of the office to do so. His numbers weren’t the greatest, and the patents he submitted for new products would actually be good if their production factory wasn’t purposefully of the lowest quality.
When Stan walked up to drop his file on the desk, Rodney turned around dramatically in his swivel chair. “Stanley Pines,” he said, dropping Stanley’s personnel file on the desk.
Stan jumped, “Rodney, hey, uhh, long time no see?” he stammered, unsure of what the presence of one of the higher-ups meant. Did he get wind of Stan’s unauthorized rebranding? It’s not Stan’s fault Stan co. was just a better name than Cipher co.
“Are you free tonight, Stanley?” Rodney asked.
The tone in Rodney’s voice was one that sent up red flags in Stan’s mind. He opened his mouth, trying to think of an excuse, but before he could even trip over a “Well, you know…” Rodney interrupted him.
“Don’t answer that, of course you are.” Rodney turned his chair and stood up in one smooth motion. He began to walk towards the door at the back of the office, and continued, “For whatever reason, the boss has seen some… potential in you. Normally we don’t offer this… opportunity to those who do not ask first, and yet, here you are.” He paused and turned back at Stan, raising an eyebrow. “Come on then, best not to keep him waiting.”
“R-right!” Stan stood up straighter and turned to follow Rodney. He wasn’t sure what all this was about, but he was relieved that he didn’t appear to be in any trouble. Could he even be getting…? A promotion? Stan didn’t want to get his hope up, but that is certainly what this looked like. He had only seen the highest-level salesmen enter and exit that back door, and he heard tell that the owner of the company lived in this very building. Perhaps that was who Rodney was taking him to meet now? Stan couldn’t be sure, but he had nothing better to do, so it couldn’t hurt to see where this went.
Stan followed Rodney through the door into the back room. It looked like a normal office space, with the Cipher co. logo and pyramid theme incorporated into the art on the walls. There was a poster of the pyramids in Egypt that looked like it was supposed to be motivational, but instead filled Stan with an uncanny sense that he was being watched. He was having second thoughts about all this when Rodney pulled a book form the shelf, which then slid aside to reveal a staircase descending into a hidden basement.
“Yeah, I think I’m just going to go…” Stan started as he turned to leave.
Rodney was in front of him in an instant. “And do what, Stanley Pines? It’s not often the boss sees greatness in an outsider, and yet for reasons beyond my comprehension, he’s seen it in you.”
Rodney himself was getting nervous. If the Elder wanted something, you gave it to him. That was something Rodney learned very early on when he received his first promotion within the organization after the last second-in-command failed to obey the Elder’s orders. Most of his promotions were from the incompetence of others, and he was not going to let Derrick from accounting below him take his place because he couldn’t get a low-level field worker to meet with the Elder when requested.
He put a hand on Stan’s shoulder, and slowly guided him back towards the stairs. “Haven’t you dreamed of greatness?” he asked, “Haven’t you ever sought treasure and wealth beyond your wildest dreams?”
This piqued Stan’s interest. Truthfully, he was tired. He had spent the first four years after high school working on the boardwalk and digging for buried treasure. He jumped from job to job before ending up here, and while the work wasn’t steady or great, they did let Stan have some input in what was made, and he felt like his ideas were respected. Though he hadn’t even recruited any down line distributors himself, he knew his day would come one day, and as soon as he built up enough capital, he’d buy a boat and get outta this place. Maybe this was his one opportunity to escape… he wouldn’t give that up.
Rodney began to lead Stan down the stairs, and Stan followed with a little less hesitancy than he had shown initially. The decent into the dark basement seemed to drag on into eternity to Stan. Any attempts at making conversation were ignored, as Rodney seemed to be leading them to their destination with a single-minded focus. Stan had no idea that any of this was down here. Basements weren’t common in areas this close to the ocean- there was too much risk for flooding, and yet this basement seemed to defy all logic. It was completely made of stone, like something one would find in a medieval castle, not under an office building by the coastline.
In the walls were torches that seemed to glow with a blue flame, which made the Cipher co. logo on the wall every few feet take on an eerie sheen in the dim. At the bottom of the winding stairs was a long, narrow hallway, with barely enough room to walk side by side in. As they walked, the hallway opened up wider, until they reached the end, where a large, circular doorway was set into the stone. Around the edge were various symbols that Stan felt like he had seen before, but he couldn’t quite place. In the center was a golden triangle, with one eye that appeared to be closed. When they arrived, Rodney urged Stanley forward.
“Go on then,” Rodney said. “Seize your destiny.”
Stan knocked on the door. He jumped back, startled, when the eye snapped open and a gruff, old voice called out, “State your name and purpose.”
Stan shifted his weight on his feet. All this time he had been growing more and more uneasy, but it was too late to turn back now. He knew he could take Rodney in a fight if the need arose, and the guy on the other side didn’t sound much tougher. “Stan Pines,” he answered, “and uh, Rodney brought me down here?”
“Your purpose?” the voice repeated.
Stan wasn’t uncertain of what his purpose was. He looked back to Rodney, but the other man’s face had shifted into something blank and impassive. It was unnerving, like looking at his father. Stan shuddered and turned back to the door. “To seize my destiny?” he tried.
That seemed to be an acceptable answer, as the circular door began to swing open towards the inside like a safe door in a high security vault. Perhaps, Stan mused, that is what this place really was. Some sort of long abandoned bang vault that had been re-purposed into a weird cult meeting room? It seemed as good an explanation as any. Rodney gave Stan a small push as he hesitated, urging Stan through the doorway.
Rodney followed close behind. The door opened into a large antechamber, and when they were both inside it slammed shut. Stan jumped but Rodney didn’t even so much as flinch, giving Stan the impression that this was something Rod had done many times before.
The man that stood before Stan wore a yellow robe, with a brick-like pattern around the hemline. He reached up and pulled his hood down, and if he had been facing Rodney, he would have noticed the brief expression of shock that crossed Rodney’s face before he was able to school his features back into neutrality. Rodney had spent 20 years tirelessly working for this organization, bringing in new recruits, spreading the word of their god’s return, trying to pave the way for the transition into chaos. And yet, this was the first time he had ever seen the Elder’s haggard face.
He was, to put it simply, old. Granted, the Elder was old when Rodney met him, but he had never been able to see it so plainly on his face. A glance at Stanley showed he clearly didn’t understand the significance of the Elder revealing his face, let alone to a new recruit who had shown no interest in the cult previously. Rodney doubted Stanley even had the dreams.
The Elder went up to Stanley, touched his face, and circled him. Stanley, for his part, only flinched once, and was doing a good job keeping his nerves contained. “Interesting,” said the Elder. “Very interesting.”
He glanced at Rodney, and gave a single nod, before he turned and walked towards an alter set up to the side of the room. Rodney took that as his signal to retreat and ensure the door in the back of the room was sealed. He may not have much idea of what was going on, but it was starting to become clear.
Long ago, when he first joined, the Elder had given Rodney this same task. On the alter was a series of items and trinkets. Some represented symbols form the chaos god’s zodiac wheel, but most were random knick-knacks and trinkets with no special properties. It was said that the only way to banish their god from this world would be to find all those who represented a place on the zodiac wheel and have them cast a spell to seal Bill back into the second dimension.
To ensure their god could not be defeated, it was important to eliminate all members of the zodiac, so that Bill could never be sealed away. As part of their initiation, all members of the cult were asked to select an object that spoke to them. If they chose one of the benign objects, they were good, and accepted as fully-fledged members of the church. But the Elder had told him once, as he ascended through the ranks, that should they ever select an item from the zodiac, it would mark them as a member of it. If that ever occurred, they would be killed as an offering to Bill, to aid in his return, and to ensure he could never be defeated.
Everything was starting to make sense to Rodney. If Stanley hadn’t shown any interest in the church, the only reason the Elder would invite him down here for the final task would be if he suspected Stanley was one of the keys to Bill Cipher’s defeat.
“Come on then,” the Elder said, waving Stanley over to the table. After a brief moment, he followed the elder, and examined the assortment of objects laid out before him.
“So, uh,” Stan spoke up for the first time in a while, “what’s all this then?”
“A test,” the Elder replied. “Select the object that calls to you. Then we will know if you are as destined for greatness as I suspect.”
Stan paused, observing the items on the table. There was a small pine tree from a model railroad set, a glass eye, a quartz crystal, a six fingered glove… He turned away at that, and asked the Elder, “Why does this have to do with anything? I mean, you said this is some kind of test, but why would I even want to take it? I followed Rod down here, but I still have no idea what’s happening, and frankly, I’m starting to feel a little punked here.” He crossed his arms and glared at the old man.
Rodney raised an eyebrow. Stanley had spunk; he’d give him that. If he passed the test, Rodney was sure he’d make a fine addition to their ranks. And if not… well, that would mean one less threat to the rise of their lord.
The Elder chuckled, “I’ll admit, it may seem a little juvenile. Let me explain,” he began, launching into the smokescreen Rodney had heard him tell prospective members many times before. “Each item represents something about the person taking the test. Our organization is looking for new leadership. I am very old Stanley, and you strike me as the man for the job. If you select the right item, it means that destiny has guided you here today, and deemed you worthy to take my place.”
“And if I select the wrong item?”
“No harm done, you can still be… put to use, as it were, but I am afraid we will not be able to fast-track you to the top,” the elder finished with a shrug. It was unusual for someone to be taking this test without any knowledge of the true nature of their organization, but they had also never encountered a potential member of the zodiac before. This whole situation was well outside of what they were used to dealing with.
Stan mulled this over in his head. As far as he was concerned, he had very little to lose. His family had abandoned him long ago, and last he heard his brother was starting up some grand research project in the pacific northwest. Stan had been going in circles for the past several years, and frankly he was tired. He was tired of living out of his car, passing by his old haunts every day, knowing he’d never see his twin or his brother again. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “What the heck,” he said, “we won’t know unless I try, right?”
The Elder smiled and nodded, and Stan turned back towards the table. “Just select the item that calls to you,” the Elder reminded him.
The trinkets on the table took a variety of forms. There was seemingly no rhyme or reason for them. There was some ice tongs and whisky rocks, ceramic angles, a small painting of a clown. There was also a gold watch, a gold chain, and various other gold rings and things. While those were tempting, they didn’t particularly call to him, at least, not in any mystical way the old man seemed to be implying.
Towards the back of the table was a red something. It was buried under a creepy looking doll and wedged next to a cup. It almost seemed to be intentionally inconspicuous. If this was a test of worthiness, Stan reasoned, it was best to not go for the gold or gems. He grabbed the red thing, revealing it to be an old fez.
As he turned it over in his hands, he showed it to the Elder next to him, “Hey look,” he said, “it even matches my lucky cufflinks!” He held up his shirt sleeve next to the hat, which bore the same crescent symbol he had on him at all times. He had found the cufflinks on the beach when he first started trying to make it as a treasure hunter- they were his only real find, but it looked like they were paying off. What were the odds that something he found buried in the sand years ago would also be represented on this table of mysterious artifacts that supposedly determined one’s fate?
The Elder smiled and clapped his hands together once. “Truly excellent,” he said, before glancing over Stan's shoulder to lock eyes with Rodney, who had been standing a few paces away, observing and waiting for his cue. The Elder nodded, and Rodney approached Stan.
“Good choice, yeah?” Stan let out a nervous laugh, “Well, that’s a relief, for a minute there I really thought you guys brought me down here to k-”
Stan was cut off as Rodney covered his mouth with a damp towel. The drug acted quickly, and Stan’s world faded to black.
When Stan woke up, he still in the same room, only on a circular dais in the middle of it. If he turned his head, he could somewhat make out the table of trinkets off to the side in the room, but not much else. The table was surrounded by candles lit with blue flame, and the Elder stood over him with an obsidian knife, chanting in a language that Stan could not make out, but was probably Latin if he had to guess.
Stan struggled to sit up, but found he was being held down by two strong arms belonging to another robed figure situated behind his head. It was probably Rodney. Stan always hated that bastard.
His head still felt fuzzy, and feeling hadn’t quite returned to Stan’s legs yet. He wondered if, perhaps, this was some sort of hazing ritual? To make sure you’re right for the job? Once Stan was in charge this would be the first thing he cut.
Before he could even get much further in that train of thought, the Elder lowered the obsidian dagger to Stan’s chest. His shirt had been partially unbuttoned to reveal the skin over his heart, and his bow-tie hung undone around his neck. Stan flinched just as it broke skin, but before the tip reached his heart time seemed to stand still as the world turned a muted grey.
Stan felt the grip at his shoulders relax and the Elder pulled back in surprise, unsure if he should continue the act of sacrifice or drop the knife to grovel properly. Hovering over the prone form of Stan Pines was the chaos god himself… Bill Cipher.
Stan thought maybe it was the drugs, but whatever was happening here was not what he anticipated. If you had told him last week that he would be brought down into a spooky cult basement under the office of his employer to be sacrificed in the name of the company logo, he would have told you to kindly never speak to him again.
The knife clattered to the ground, as the Elder had clearly settled on groveling. Blood seeped out of the would on Stan’s shirt; he made a mental note to thank the triangle guy for his well-timed interruption if he made it out of this alive.
“Well, well, well,” Bill began, his voice echoing off the walls of the antechamber in an inhuman way. “Looks like you’ve found one of my little toys…” Bills attention was turned to the Elder, who was not on the floor, bowing at the feet of the demon that had materialized before him.
Stan felt Rodney’s arms shake where they held onto him. Stan got the impression that Rodney was holding Stan more for his own comfort than out of any attempt to keep him restrained.
“Care to explain why you’re breaking IT?” Bill seemed to grow and change to a deep shade of crimson as he loomed over the Elder.
“I am not worthy of your greatness…” was all the Elder had managed to mutter as he processed the situation.
Bill appeared to inhale, tenting his fingers in front of him as though taking a calming breath, “You’re right,” he said, “you’re not.” With a snap of his fingers the Elder’s robes burst into a consumptive blue fire, his screams filling Stan and Rodney’s ears, until the Elder was reduced to nothing but ash.
Bill turned his attention to Rodney, who quickly stood up straight, removing his shaking hands from Stan. “M-my lord,” Rodney began, “We were simply trying to remove one of those capable of d-“
“Zip it,” Bill interrupted with a snap of his fingers, and Rodney’s mouth changed to zip itself shut. Bill sighed. “This is what I get for leaving you guys unchecked for so long. Misinformation,” he scoffed, and dramatically rolled his singular eye.
Stan sat up slowly on the table, wide eyed and fearful. He watched as Bill floated over and kicked the pile of ash that was once the man who tried to kill him. The blood appeared to be slowing down, but Stan still felt woozy and nauseous. Bill turned his attention to Stan, “Wow, you really are stupid, huh kid? What, you let anyone take you down into a spooky basement, or was Zip-lips over there just special?”
Stan wasn’t sure how to answer that. He still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t dreaming. “I believe introductions are in order,” Bill started. He leaned back, casually floating in front of Stan and crossing one leg over the other. “Name’s Bill Cipher, dream demon, agent of chaos, and the unfortunate god of this useless cult.” He gestured around the room, and then paused, clearly waiting for Stan to reply.
Stan swallowed, “Stan Pines,” he said, trying his best to not tick off the being in front of him. “Pleasure to meet you,” he finished, trying to project as much false bravado as he could.
Bill laughed. It was a nasally, echoey thing that Stan wasn’t sure he was a fan of. “I like the cut of your jib, kid.”
Bill returned his attention to Rodney, “Congratulations on your promotion, Mouth. Let’s start by laying down some ground rules…”
Stan sat and stared as Bill explained to Rodney the changes he expected him to make. Apparently, the fez was the right choice, as Bill had ensured Stan would be taking over Rodney’s position as face of the company, seeing as Rodney was taking over as the new Elder in the cult. Stan still wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable having watched a man burn alive, but he was glad he was no longer at risk of having his heart cut out on a stone table.
Stan was so lost in thought he hadn’t even realized Bill was done with Rodney until the demon’s attention was on him again. “You’re gonna do great things kid,” he said. “Consider this one a freebie for the trouble.” Bill snapped his fingers and Stan briefly freaked out as the blood on his chest went up in the same blue fire that killed the Elder minutes before. Strangely, it didn’t hurt, and when it dissipated the wound was gone, leaving behind nothing more than an old burn scar over the entry point of the knife.
Bill rose up and turned to face both Stan and Rodney, who’s mouth was still zipped shut. “And remember, I’ll be watching!” he said, before he seemed to dissolve from their reality. When the last vestiges of Bill’s form had faded, color seeped back into the room.
Rodney screamed, the zipper having disappeared, and the Elder’s strangely unmarred body laid in a heap at the edge of the floor. The only evidence of their strange encounter was the small burn scar on Stan’s chest.
The Elder’s official cause of death was a heart attack; because the man was in his 70s and lived alone in a basement, no foul play was suspected. Stan took over Rodney’s job, much to the confusion of his next in line, Derrick from accounting. He had yet to be formally introduced to the aims of the cult, despite his de facto initiation, but he enjoyed the freedom he was given as a part of R&D. He enjoyed sales even more now that he didn’t need to do it to survive.
As far as Stan was concerned, things were finally going his way.