Stan slowly woke up and looked around the room. The woman who had led him home last night, a Ms. Melania Ramirez, was very courteous. But he was still not entirely certain why she had brought him here. He knew that he had been living here for the last few months, but had a hard time remembering why. Was this really one of the last places he had left to run to? And since when had he made enough money to afford this place anyway? Looking about the house reminded him of his brother. He swore that Stanford must have been here. The collection of random garbage and highly technological devices made that much obvious. But where was he? Didn't Stanford invite him to his cabin in some town in Oregon? Was this that cabin? But then again if this was his place, why couldn't he remember ever seeing him here? He couldn't remember where he must have gone, so this must not have been the place. And sure, the Murder Hut was one of the most profitable business ventures he had made in a long time, but then again, he couldn't remember what drove him to live here in the first place.

As he took off his shirt to take a shower, the mystery only increased. Something about the skin on his back felt tight and when he looked in the mirror, he saw an oddly shaped scar there. It looked like a tattoo of some obscure rune of some kind. But something in the back of his memory burned at the sight of it. How drunk had he gotten last night?

For now, he ignored the feeling and decided to go about his day as normal.

Putting on his red jacket, he started to wonder. Why was he wearing this ratty old thing anyway? He had a closet full of clothes that were his, and yet he was insisting on wearing this old jacket and torn t-shirt. Certainly he could do better than this. Wear something a little more theatrical.

Shifting through the closet, he found his father's old suit. Stan knew that he had been using his father's old fez as part of his 'Mister Mystery' outfit, but since when had he gotten his suit? Wouldn't he have given it to Ford? Shrugging it off, Stan settled for wearing a collared shirt with a question mark tie. Not the best look with his mullet, but he was thinking that he needed a haircut anyway. He just needed one last touch.

Sitting on the kitchen table, Stan spotted the perfect accessory to his ensemble. An eyepatch. Picking it up, he wondered why he had such a thing. He hadn't had any eye problems recently and couldn't remember getting it from anywhere. Looking at the concave side of the patch, he couldn't help but notice what appeared to be blood staining the cloth. Did he have an eye problem lately or something? He couldn't remember. Luckily the brownish stain was solely on the inside of the patch and so no one would be able to see it. If he didn't get an eye infection after a few hours, he figured that it was probably safe to wear.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he smiled. Perfect.

He was just about ready to get started. He just needed to restock the gift shop and to prep the register. However as he entered the gift shop, something immediately felt wrong.

He stared down the stairs going to the basement, but couldn't remember what was down there. The burning feeling returned as he looked down into the blackness. Something ached in the back of his memory. What happened to make him forget what was down there?

Stepping downstairs, he slowly began to remember… He had been down here yesterday… Hadn't he? He tried to figure out what happened as he took the elevator down to the lowest level.

Stan stared up at the massive technological device, slack-jawed and stunned. He still couldn't remember what happened, however he now knew that this must have been Stanford's place. Stan knew that there was no way that he could have built this device in the basement by himself.

His head was beginning to ache. What happened to his memory? How drunk was he last night? Did he hit his head on something?

Just as he was asking himself these questions, he had to yank his hand away from something hot, yelping in surprise. He looked down at the side of this control panel-looking thing that had almost burned him. Something felt familiar about the symbol carved into the metal there.

Kneeling down to get a better look at the searingly bright symbol, he realized that he knew this symbol. It was the same one…

Stan's head throbbed. That symbol… It was the same one tattooed onto… No... It was burned into his back.

A searing pain shot through Stan's head as he remembered the fight with his brother all those months ago and the pain it brought him. And with that memory came the memory what happened the day before.

"F." Stan muttered. Putting on his red jacket, Stan left the Murder Hut for town.

Author's Note: I edited this while sitting in a parking lot, so if it isn't the most polished chapter in the world… Eh. Today's first cipher is brought to you by my boyfriend! He says: Baloo-balee, baloo-balow. I let you go, I let you go. Also, we spent forever on this week's poem. Yay!

The first cipher thing for the day is: "VWDQIRUG" FDQ'W IRU WKH OLIH RI KLP UHPHPEHU. EXW QRZ KH FDQ, DQG I LV GDPQHG, FDXVH QRZ KLV OLIH'V LQ GDQJHU. VR BRX NQRZ. EDVLFDOOB I LV IRU IXFNHG!

19-20-1-14 8-1-19 14-15-20 25-5-20 3-15-13-5 20-15 11-14-15-23
20-8-1-20 9 1-13 20-18-21-12-25 14-15-20 8-9-19 6-15-5.
1 19-20-18-5-1-13 15-6 13-5-13-15-18-9-5-19, 23-9-20-8-15-21-20 20-8-5-9-18 6-12-15-23,
20-8-15-19-5 19-5-5-4-19 8-5 23-9-12-12 2-5-7-9-14 20-15 19-5-23
20-15 13-15-22-5 2-5-25-15-14-4 8-9-19 16-1-9-14-6-21-12 23-15-5-19.

8-5 12-5-20 8-9-13 7-15. 8-5 12-5-20 8-9-13 7-15.

19-15-13-5-23-8-5-18-5 16-1-19-20 20-8-5 8-9-7-8-19 1-14-4 12-15-23-19.
23-8-25? 9 3-1-14'20... 10-21-19-20 12-5-20 8-9-13 7-15.