Riverdale Fanfic by Someone Who's Never Seen Riverdale

archie is decrepit and ancient

Riverdale only a small town, easier to shake than a snow globe. The murder of Mr Orange was all it took.

"We need to talk suspects," said Archie, easing himself into a chair, propped up on his walking stick. His joints creaked like old doors.

The gang sat in silence in the library, alone. It was the most reliable meeting place for their little troupe, as it was always empty. Riverdale was not the kind of town where people read. For a long time, the only sound was the groaning of Archie's joints as he struggled to sit.

"Look," said Jugony, who was wearing a trench coat that trailed behind him like a bridal veil. The collar was popped up. He peered over his sunglasses and took a quick puff of his cigar. "I wouldn't have called you all together if it wasn't serious."

The gang shared uncomfortable glances. Outside, the sky was as grey as half of Archie's hair, and as wet as his cataracts. Thunder clapped across the heavens.

Betty shivered and pulled the sleeves of her cardigan over her fists. She was slouched, as always, in the defensive stance of an introvert as she shuffled into the library. Apologising profusely for her lateness, she dumped her armful of books onto the table and sat.

Cheryl Orange gave her a look of utter reproach. She turned to Jugony and folded her arms. "What's that harlot doing here?"

Betty pushed up her glasses and whispered, aghast, "Me?"

"I'm sorry." She mimed clearing out her ear. "I thought I heard a lustful harpy."

Jugony cleared his throat. He fixed Betty with a cold glance. "Betty. Cheryl's father just got shot this morning, so if you could refrain from being a midnight wench just for a little bit, out of respect."

Betty's mouth hung slightly open, but she said nothing.

"Right." Jugony spread his collection of local newspapers across the table. "Suspects. This is every crime ever committed in Riverdale, Mississippi, in the last five years. We can make a list of crimminals who might have a connection to Mr Orange."

The gang all leaned forwards to get a better look at the papers.

Archie picked one up with difficulty, his arthritic fingers quivering. "Look," he said, picking his reading glasses up from the chain around his neck. "This young rent-boy was arrested recently right outside the Orange Mansion."

Cheryl rolled her eyes. "Irrelevant, you fork-tongued cuckhold. My dad's got nothing to do with any call boys. My dad's not gay."

"I'm gay," said that one guy.

"Wait a minute," said Betty, picking up a paper from the pile. "Look at this! It says this woman was arrested along with the rent-boy, for solicitation, but...that's our maths teacher?"

Archie snatched the paper. "Oh my god." He tried to find a distance at which to hold the paper for his eyes to focus on it. "That's the really hot paedophile who just moved to town." Archie chuckled maliciously and bit his lip, squinting. "PILF."

"Archie?" Betty said, shocked. "What on earth are you talking about?"

He gave an evil, slutty cackle and stroked his chin. "She moved to Riverdale, Mississipi, two months ago. We've been having a passionate affair ever since."

"Archie, that's actually really sad. And extremely serious –"

Jugony and Archie were high fiving.

"Guys." Cheryl slammed her hands down on the table, and the newspapers jumped. "Could you syphilitic warts please concentrate on the murder of my father. It wasn't Miss Gumball. I'm telling you. It was the Gargle Rat."

Becky's blonde brows furrowed. "Cheryl?"

Lightening flashed outside, and thunder boomed across the sky. The sun slipped behind a cloud, and Cheryl's face darkened. The shadowed hollows gave her the appearance of a skull.

She said in a deep, mournful whisper, "You could not comprehend the brutality of the Gargle Rat."

Betty pulled a face. "What's that, like a...type of rat?"

"SILENCE!" Cheryl boomed, and the wind howled through the window, snatching her hair into a frenzy. "Begone you horny little tart! Mock thee not the Gargle Rat."

"Sorry, sorry." Betty bared her palms and sank into her chair a little, glancing at Cheryl with alarm.

"The Gargle Rat is a local gang lord. He had dealings with my father. He runs a local gang called the Riverdale Bad Boys."

Betty's brows rose in disbelief. She said, as she tried to process this information, "He runs a gang called the...Riverdale Bad Boys? And his name is the Gargle Rat?"

"They are very bad boys!"

"Hence the name," agreed Jugony. "They recruit high schoolers from the slums to do evil crimes."

Betty faltered, still not quite able to wrap her head around all this. "What sort of crimes?"

He shrugged. "Knife?"

Cheryl agreed, raking her fingers through her hair like a wild orange gorgon. "They're in our house sometimes. I am sure my father was connected to them somehow. They must've killed him."

"But," said Jugony, deep in thought as he puffed his cigar, "your father was shot with a gun, not a knife."

She drew a breath, nodding. "That much is true, Jug. But if it was not the Gargle Rat, then who could've shot my father with a gun?"

On the other side of the library a book closed, unheard by our heroes. It sat in the hands of the person who had heard the entirety of their conversation, hiding in the shadows.

Blair Waldorf slipped the book into her jacket and smiled.

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