Work Text:
"steph, are you sure about this? i mean, who knows what kinda door we could open here."
"we have to, pete. for ruth, for richie... for everyone. grace -- let's summon these bastards."
***
after he died, richie wasn't left quite as meaningless as he thought he might be. he was still able to see his friends, see how max chased after them through the streets of hatchetfield on his deranged mission to eradicate all nerds from existence. only now, he was a ghost. after ruth was killed, even though he was terribly sorry about that happening, it wasn't even unbearably lonely. at least he could keep his best friend in the afterlife. at least they could be ghosts together. watchers, even.
"oh, hell, richie," ruth mutters uncomfortably as she grabs richie's arm and pulls him over to see what steph, pete and grace are doing now. "look at what they're doing now, we gotta stop them! who knows what kinda things they're gonna unleash!"
"i dunno ruth," richie says back nervously as they watch their three former friends start to chant the strange names of the lords in black. "if it helps them get rid of max they gotta try, right?"
"i don't like this," ruth pouts. "i don't like any of this richie!"
"look, ruth, it's either them or they join us up here!" richie says stubbornly, almost begging ruth to remember exactly where they are and who exactly killed them both. he grabs her arm and together they float down next to their friends. richie lands between steph and pete so he can look over their shoulders at what they're reading, and ruth resumes her usual spot besides pete's other side. richie clings to pete out of habit, before silently remembering that pete doesn't even know he's there. he's just a corporeal form, a whisper on the end, that's all. to pete, richie is dead. and he always will be.
richie removes his hands and sets them back down by his side, his unease mounting as the rest of the gym descends into darkness as soon as his friends utter the last word of wiggog y'wrath.
"wh-what happened?" ruth asks. richie glances up and around, his heart beating a mile a minute -- or it would if he wasn't dead, he was sure.
"i don't know," richie says in a rushed whisper. "maybe we should tell them to try again --"
"how, richie?" ruth whines. "how are we going to do that?"
"i dunno, maybe we have secret ghost powers neither of us know about ruth, I'm trying to be helpful here --"
he stops speaking as the lights start to flicker insanely in patches of red, yellow and green. he and ruth cling to each other desperately as five... things appear in the gym, all laughing maniacally in weirdly musical tones. richie freezes like a deer in headlights as his gaze lands on the fifth one facing him, ruth, pete, steph and grace... the one in green with a crown on its head.
the one who looks right back at him with gleeful, raving eyes. the one who looks right back at him with his own face.
it's like richie's staring straight into a mirror. the green one, just as tall and gangly as him, wears an emerald green varisty jacket with a dark green w emblazoned on it. his sharp jade eyes cut through richie like a billion pieces of glass. the man (or whatever he is) looks both exactly like richie and at the same time doesn't, because there's no way richie would ever get caught dead looking that atrocious and just plain evil.
"why, looks like we have a surprise guest, brothers!" the thing sniggers. the rest of them -- the lords in black that pete, steph and grace summoned -- join in the laughter. richie pales even more than he already is. he clutches onto ruth for protection, because yes as a ghost he can actually cling to other ghosts -- he doesn't know how the hell he would have survived this if ruth hadn't come along.
but back to the demon from hell that his friends summoned that looks exactly like him.
the thing folds his arms, contorting in a way that's meant to probably mimick being a human as it considers richie with those deep forest eyes.
"wh-wh-who are you?" richie stammers in shock. the thing smiles grotesquely.
"i think a better question is who are you?" the thing asks in a clear mockery of richie's shy, timid voice. suddenly richie can't speak. he's frozen in time, unmoving in shock. this can't be happening. this possibly can't be happening.
"wiggly, someone's walking around with your face!" hisses one of the other things -- this wiggly's brothers, richie guesses. even in his fear he can make out that much. "should we tear him to bits?"
"should we kill him to death?" asks the one in yellow. wiggly leaves his post and all but glides up to richie, who's still cowering in fear, clutching ruth.
"richie, wh-what's going on?" ruth asks in a tizzy. richie swallows hard, trying to get up the courage to say something, anything as the thing with a crown -- this wiggly -- smiles down at him. they're practically the same height.
"i think he's already dead," wiggly says, a glimmer of triumph snaking across his face as he leans in to gloat. "just another one of my lost souls waiting to be found. what do you say, richie lipschitz?"
as soon as the thing -- the god, he guesses -- says his name, richie tries to run, bolt away, get out of here, anything he can do that'll take him away from his world being turned upside down. but he can't. he's frozen in fear, just like he was when max died --
that's when he realizes wiggly has pressed a hand to his chest. the last thing he sees is wiggly's smile, his horrible, demented smile that stretches wildly across his face with no end in sight.
"it's time for you to join me in drowsy town, richie," wiggly says cheerfully. "again."
ruth screams as richie dissipates into smoke, consumed by the whims of a dark god. wiggly straightens up, shaking loosely after consuming richie's soul. for a moment his green eyes flicker to hazel and back again -- the only evidence that richie lipschitz ever belonged to this world.