Kismet [Fate]
Prologue 1: Right Leg
Night had descended upon the abnormal town of Gravity Falls, the city and all its bounty caught in the merciless grip of Mother Nature, covering the town and beyond with her bounty of rainwater and summer winds. While most of the town's population had descended into slumber, regaining their strength and stamina for the day to come, there were still those in and around whom had other ways of spending their time and energy...
The Northwest Mansion was one of those places, a grandiose building whole purpose was not only to shelter the prodigious family of name, but as a display of wealth and power to the town their family had founded so long ago. Pacifica Northwest, the family's only heir and the town's most popular brat, was one of those whom happened to still be awake and spending the night in the heat of her own handiwork.
She scribbled furiously, pencil to paper along a masterfully crafted glass desk, pausing only to run her hands through blonde tresses in thought before returning to her creation.
"What'cha got there, kiddo?" the country voice was an unwelcome surprise, jarring the blonde from her work, pencil gripped tightly in fist. An old man in overalls and a western hat stood behind her, looking over-shoulder in what could mockingly be called 'thought'. As Pacifica sat adamant in her attempts to stay focused, Nathaniel Northwest continued to speak if not to himself, aways staying uncomfortably close to the preteen in his ramblings.
"Them's some fancy drawin' you got there, blondie!" the specter marveled, rubbing feces further into his long beard. "Mighty fin' work for a fraud like you ta be makin', eh little'un?"
"Not. A fraud..." Pacifica murmured to herself, teeth gritting tenaciously as her grip on the pencil tightened. She struggled to keep focused on her project, allowing the old man to hootenanny around her room freely.
"Really now? 'n here I thought you were a Northwest, like me?" Nathaniel jeered. "Didn't be thinkin' you a liar, too!"
"Not a fraud..." the phrase continued, more a mantra now than anything, pencil shaking in anger as she argued with the figment, rising from her seat to meet her ancestor face-to-face. "I'm not a fraud, you disgusting freak!"
"Do frauds buy their way to fame like you do?" Pacifica Northwest stood before herself, a look of disdain painted on her face while a look of horror graced the other. "Do frauds LIE to in grand-scale to an entire town, LIE to the history books, LIE to THEMSELVES!?" For a few brief seconds, the real Pacifica felt a twinge of fear as her conscience towered with self-righteousness. She knew the look that the phantom was giving her, a look she had long-since mastered: a look of confidence, of disgust and bravado, rolled into one. "You're pathetic, Northwest. You're a failure, just like your ancestor and everyone afterwards."
"Shut up! I'm nothing like him!" The real Pacifica screamed, emotions finally running rampant, swinging her hand in front of her. "The Northwests worked hard to get where we are, I worked hard to get where I am, I'm-"
"A liar.
A fake.
A FRAUD.
Face it, Northwest. You're NOTHING."
"NO!"
An aged gentleman stood before the door to the youngest Northwest's room, hand placed upon the polished doorknob, sighing to himself. The young mistress had been having moments of anger of late, yelling to herself and denying any such notion of it. Her parents had chalked it up to 'budding teenage emotions', but Butler knew better than to blame such things; something was wrong with Pacifica.
Unfortunately there wasn't much that he could do for her in his position until the young mistress allowed him to aid her, so long as she kept denying those around her the ability. Taking a moment to gather himself, he opened the door and took a few short steps inside. "Miss Pacifica? I believe I heard-"
The young woman in his charge looked as if she'd been through quite an ordeal; her normally well-groomed hair poking out-of-place, hanging on the backrest of the expensive leather chair one-handed, breathless with her eyes pointed downwards. Butler paused as he felt something beneath his feet, lifting his well-tailored shoe to reveal a broken No.2 pencil. The elder gentleman was beside himself, these yelling matches she was having with herself were becoming worse, yet he knew full-well that she would simply dismiss him yet again should he bring the matter up.
"Is it 'nothing', yet again, Miss Pacifica?" He chose his words carefully, a calm and professional tone with a well-practiced look of neutrality, lined with just the feintest touch of sarcasm. A necessary recipe for dealing with the Northwest family in a whole.
The young woman in charge simply stared at him, lightly gasping for breath before standing straight, looking behind her with a hardened glare. "No... no, Butler. This time, everything is 'not okay'." She muttered, bringing a hand up to brush her hair behind her ear. "Something's been bothering me for some time and if I put it off any longer, I think I'll go mad."
"An excellent decision, Miss Pacifica, I'm relieved to see you are facing your problems head-on." Butler bowed slightly. "I shall alert your father of your needs immed-"
"No!" snapped Pacifica as she walked to the desk, pulling open a drawer and rifling though its contents. "No, this is a personal matter and I'll handle it my way. My father is the last person that I want to know of this." She pulled out what appeared to be a plastic bag filled with paper. "I think, I think I'm going to need some 'outside' help."
The word gave Butler cause for concern, only shown by a slight raise in his right eyebrow. The Northwests were not normally known for asking for any sort of help, always being self-sufficient, wanting praise and attention more than aid and assistance. "If that is what you would prefer, Miss Pacifica, I shall do my part as well. Do you have any... friends to contact?"
"Mmm, close to it, I suppose." Pacifica threw the vacuum-sealed bag onto the glass countertop, the words 'THE NORTHWEST COVER-UP' in bold lettering keeping her attention. "I want you to go to the Mystery Shack and bring me Dipper Pines."
"Of course, Miss Pacifica." Butler bowed to the pre-teen. "I shall make the arrangements and you shall have your friend here before noon tomorrow."
"Good, the sooner the better." The blonde heiress gave a breath of relief, attention never wavering from the paperwork placed along the bunches of drawings and pictures of dresses and models. "You're going to fix this mess you started, Dipper Pines."
There's so much to do and so little time to do it in and so, without further delay, let's start the show. Just remember, reviews and comments are good motivation for weary souls.
-MAX VFX-