Robbie was many things. He was a teenager, he was clearly male, and he was a rebel at heart. (No pun intended.) If there was one thing that he could be classified an expert at, it was the fact that he knew the three main goals of embalming a dead body: sanitization, presentation, and preservation. Resignedly, he concluded that it was a bit weird that he had this talent, but he decided not to dwell on it. He made his place in the world and he didn't want to be known as a philosopher who had far too much time on his hands to be thinking about morbid details concerning death…or the fact that his parents were total nutcases, for that matter. Besides, it wasn't like he could help his position anyway; he was born as the son of two wacky funeral directors and was likely to inherit the family business.
In fact, Robbie had a sneaking suspicion that there was something more to their chosen vocation than what they were telling him. Oh sure, they enjoyed it: the ordering of the coffin, the digging of the grave, attending funerals. Oh yeah, they had to drag him along most of the time too! In fact, the teen thought that the reason why his parents were total crazies was because he thought that they were exiled from their family or something for being too cheerful. There had to be a reason why he never met his grandparents or left town for that matter.
So one can imagine his surprise when he realized that his parents were housing some long last relative.
"Right," the brunette drawled when his parents told him about the newcomer out of the blue. He gave a slightly weirded, slightly apathetic expression at the man all dressed in grey and black. Gee, were all his blood relations this creepy? "You want me to be on my best behavior for this guy?" It had been meant to be a whisper or something softly spoken, but his raspy voice and generally dismissive attitude towards authority made it seem that he wanted to announce to the world that he wanted to babysit this weirdo. (Just in case you haven't noticed, that was all sarcasm.)
"Robbie!" Both of his parents yelled in unison. They glared at their wayward son collectively for a second before they turned to their long lost…uncle or something. At that point, Robbie didn't care for the consequences or what his relative thought of him. For one, his parents always reverted back to their sunny dispositions. For two, this guy had this supernatural vibe that was dripping off him like melted butter.
"We definitely did not teach you to behave like that," his mother groaned.
However, the slight deviation from her usual demeanor slowly morphed back into an easygoing grin. Robbie almost banged his face on a nearby wall as he saw that his mother turn away from him and gesture towards their 'highly esteemed guest.' Robbie may not have been a model student at school, but he was pretty sure that 'highly esteemed' didn't mean ratty clothes and a sickening grin that could raise the dead. (He knew where he was coming from when he thought that. The dude was a total creeper, as Tambry would have put it.)
Their estranged relative laughed ominously as his hands seemed to grow a mind of their own, fluttering about like prisoners wailing for freedom. If Robbie didn't have a reputation to keep, he would have gulped at the sight of the overly long and sharp nails. The way that they seemed to catch the light even when they appeared old and dull caught the teen's attention. For a split second, those nails seemed to elongate and sharpen, appearing as if they were the claws of some long forgotten creature. The young Valentino would have lied if he said that he didn't want to spend some quality at the bottom of a grave somewhere. And what was up with the bangs that covered up his face! It looked like he was a girl!
…But dangerous. Like he was hiding something.
"Children will remain children, like dogs are conditioned to slobber over meat," the strange relative cackled. The high keening wails pierced Robbie's ears like the man had taken a chalkboard and began to play it like a whiny love song. Had this man no sense of propriety? Robbie may have been a terrible person, but this was common courtesy! No one should be this upbeat and exuberant at a funeral home.
"Oh! I agree with that philosophy," Robbie's father helpfully chimed in. "Ya'know, I think there's some old baby pictures of Rob—"
"Dad, I get it," the dark haired teen groused loudly. The sooner he showed this lunatic the layout of the town, the sooner he could go back to being a regular guy. "Show mister-what's-his-face around town and be back home for dinner. Let's go." The last part had been directed at his so-called relative before he stalked out to the front porch. Yeesh, some people were way too happy for their own good. Behind him, he heard the hastily mumbled apologies to make up for his less than ideal behavior, but the visitor inside just took it all in stride. Robbie, while a little touched that this person seemed to be okay with his brattish attitude, was still wary about this trashy figure. He reminded him of Old Man McGucket.
As Robbie stared out into the wooded areas of Gravity Falls, he failed to realize that be was being intently observed by one particular person. He was so engrossed of thinking of his new girlfriend Tambry that he didn't realize that his relative (Uncle? Cousin? Grandpa?) was inching closer and closer to him. It was a textbook example of a predator going after easy prey in the middle of the day…
Three…
Two…
One…
"Aah!" Robbie flailed about as he fell over the railing on his porch. He had been touched on the back of his neck by—
"You!" Huffing loudly with embarrassment and a healthy dollop of anger, Robbie hastily jumped up to his feet and stomped over to the porch. He had been planning to give the man a piece of his mind, but there was something slightly dangerous that he detected…something not quite right…until the whole moment was ruined when the man snapped his spindly fingers in front of Robbie's face, like the teen was a dog and the older man the owner. Grabbing senses, Robbie began to shout, "Why did you do that for? Do you always—"
"Do you always behave like you're about to die of a heart attack?" The white haired gentleman, with the hair that could rival McGucket's, smiled thinly at the teen. His spindly fingers played with the hems of his sleeves, his hair seemed to tangle itself in the wind, and something green glinted underneath the fog of his bangs. Again, Robbie had the urge to run away as fast he could, but he didn't want to do that.
No way.
He wasn't like that stupid kid.
"Do you always invade people's private space?" Robbie tried his best to counter. His cool kid façade that he usually maintained in front of others was cracking and his fear of this guy seemed to encourage the process. Gosh darn it, he was supposed to give a quick tour for this stupid old guy and he was still on the front porch. Not cool, and he was definitely wasting time.
"Why, of course I have!" The older man squealed happily. "Dead people don't respond much to my advances, but I must say," the man's teeth seemed to shine eerily bright at his next few words, "their bodies are so pliable…and they comply with my every demand!"
The man sobered for a second, allowing Robbie to process the new information in his teenage brain. He was not a slow learner. In fact, one could even say that he was a bright kid with a penchant for getting into trouble and messing with the 'in crowd,' but there was something blocking his brain that wouldn't allow him to start processing his relative's slightly weird statement regarding dead people. Even his parents weren't this crazy over post-mortem bodies!
Wait.
Did that mean.
No.
He didn't want to process this.
No, he was going to let his brain shut down for this little but.
No.
No.
NO.
He was definitely not a descendant of a long line of funeral directors. That would be so uncool. And creepy. But mostly uncool. What would Tambry think?
"They also don't say no when I—Hmm?" The white haired man finally ground to a halt in his reverie of times gone by when he heard the porch slam shut. Due to his advanced hearing, he could hear the youngling inside complaining that he was creepy and that he would not take part in showing him around town. The white haired male smiled to himself at those words. The kid had spirit and pride. All he needed was some motivation, the realization of his potential, and finally…a mentor.
"It's a good thing I finally found you Robert Stacy Valentino…who knows what a demon could do with a human heart of a reaper."
The man watched the woods silently, as if gauging the ferocity of the peaceful woods. And then, quite suddenly…
He laughed.
"Ahahaha! Stacy! What a fine middle name! Name of an obedient dog, of a churlish teenager, and the name of a price well paid!" His parents made a fine choice when he called him. If they hadn't, who knows what would have happened to the youngling!
Out in the woods, a snappy dressed demon stiffened.