Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls.
Ding Dong.
All of the Pines family was sleeping, so it was up to Soos to open the door. The man-child didn't know what to expect when he did so, but it was definitely stranger than he had thought. There, on the doorstep, was a man dresses in a red bathrobe. Complete with a hood and drawstrings. He was holding a maroon book in hand. It had a gold, six-fingered hand on the front of it.
"Excuse me, sir. Do you have time to talk about our lord and savior Bi-
"Wait a minute." Soos interrupted. "Who are you exactly?"
"My name is Hugh. Hugh Mann. And another someone you should be introduced to is-"
"How did you get past the gate?"
The man's strange yellow eyes hardened for a moment.
"That's not important. Now like I was saying-"
"Actually it kinda' is." Soos continued. "Mister Pines doesn't take security lightly."
"We can talk about security right after you let me talk about-"
"Look dude. I'm gonna' have to ask you to leave the premises until I can figure out how you got through here."
"But our lord and savior-"
"Nope!"
Soos quickly slammed the door in the man's face. He let out a sigh or relief, glad that he had delt with that cultist.
"What a weirdo!" He exclaimed. "At least he won't be coming back anytime soon!"
Stan got up at the usual time. He made himself a coffee, grabbed the newspaper, and sat down at the kitchen counter. Beyond figuring out how to play off the sudden appearance of ten pounds of sausage in the freezer, he did not have much planned for the day. He did not have any jobs ready, and the kids would be leaving later that night.
Maybe he could pawn off some of that stolen meat, and pass some to Ford. He instantly shot down the idea. Of course, Ford would probably assume it was poisoned with salmonella or made from human flesh. Sure the fact that it was only stolen made it a lesser evil, but Ford and his goody-goody complex would ensure that he would never take any.
At least it looked like another nice day would be ahead of them. He could see that there was a thin line of darker clouds in the distance, but it would probably pass. So long as the weather was nice, he could keep the kids out of the house, and thus, out of his hair. He was a busy guy after all, and he couldn't afford that many distractions. Just because he didn't have any jobs planned, it didn't mean that he had other tasks that had to be done. There were taxes to be doges, bills to fake, and books to cook.
The quiet sound of feet alerted Stan to the fact that he was not alone. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the twins were there. Maple- Mabel, her name was Mabel, she was staring at one of the cupboards. Then, she glanced back down at the cracking floor tiles, as if she were looking for something. Ford Jr was behind him, shyly shuffling in his place. The kitchen table was crowded with things, so Stan just figured that he was silently asking if he could sit next to him. He pushed out the other stool with his foot
"What time did you two go to bed at?" He asked, turning his focus back to the paper.
From the corner of his eye, Stan could see the twins glance at each other.
"Uh..."
"Well, so long as you're not sleeping in until twelve, I don't need to know."
Ford Jr got a bowl and spoons for himself and Mabel. The girl poured them both equal amounts of one of their obscenely sugary cereals, and then went to the fridge to get them milk. The second she opened the door, she screamed, and closed it again. Stan nearly dropped his coffee, not expecting the sudden high-pitched yelp.
"What are you trying to do kid? Give me a heart attack?!"
The girl's face flushed in embarrassment.
"It's just uh, I thought it was something else."
"Like what? A dead body?" He snorted. "I'm not running a morgue here!"
Neither twin laughed at his joke.
"W-why is there so much raw meat in the fridge?"
"Midnight clearance sale." Stan lied. "I'm set for life when it comes to sausage."
"Right." She huffed, pushing the hair out of her eyes. "I just wasn't expecting to see that there."
"Fair enough. Do you want the comics?"
She nodded, and sat down next to him. Her brother followed suit, sitting on his other side. He handed her the comics, while the boy took the puzzle section. He pulled out a pen from his vest (Stan briefly wondered what kind of a kid kept a pen on them at all times.) and started to work on the cross-word puzzle.
Not long after, he began to click on the end of pen repeatedly. After that, he moved on to chewing on the edge of it. After a few minutes of chewing, the boy realized that he was not eating his breakfast. He took a spoonful of cereal, and started to eat. But not a second later, he was clicking the pen once more.
It reminded Stan of his own brother. Ever-obsessed with his precious research, completely unaware of all the other things that were going on around him. Ford had always been somewhat lost in his own world of science and strangeness. As the years went on, it got harder and harder to draw him out of it. And after his good-for-nothing pop had kicked him out of the house, it became impossible.
He had never been given the chance to mend fences. When he had gotten over his anger, and tried to talk to Ford, his parents naturally refused to tell him where he was. It had taken several illegal means and a lot of money to track him down to Oregon. By the time he had finally struck it rich, it was too late to fix things with Ford. Even with all his money, he couldn't buy back the good times of the past. It had all brought him nothing but ulcers and bullet wounds...
At least finally getting his revenge would be nice. His family left him on the streets, and he returned a monster. Stan knew they weren't to blame for the life of crime he had voluntarily chosen. He could not place the blame any of the larceny, violence, and lying on anyone but himself. But he could blame them for kicking him out, and never giving him a chance for redemption.
Fate, a demon, neglectful parents, something had given him a chance now though. A chance for revenge. Two days wasn't enough time to get as far as he wanted, but it was still worth a shot. He just needed the little gremlins to let their guard down more, and trust him. Difficult to say the least. But the only way to make it painful for that jerk was if they liked him.
"Stop doing that." He finally snapped, glaring at Dipper's pen.
The boy didn't seem to hear him, too focused on the cross-word. Mabel gave a shrug. She looked over his shoulder to see what her brother was staring at. The pen tip was resting on one of the hints.
"He needs a six-letter word for annoying." She explained.
"Try Ford Jr." Stan suggested.
This caught the boy's attention. Clearly he had struck a nerve with the name.
"Grunkle Stan, my name is Dipper."
"That's got six letters too."
The kid rolled his eyes.
"Anyways, the next hint is an eight-letter word for a specific type of criminal."
"Pffft! What is this, amateur hour?" He snorted. "Murderer!"
For some reason, the twins froze in place. They stared at him with wide eyes, and their mouths slightly open. Stan decided they were awed by his sudden burst of genius. He could come up with smart things to say from time to time. And no doubt he had years of great-uncle wisdom stored somewhere, just waiting to be passed on in the form of bad habits and kleptomania. He grinned proudly, and the twins hesitantly seemed to join in. Ford Jr laughed, and Mabel slapped him on the back.
"Good one Grunkle Stan!"
The boy wrote his answer in the boxes. It lined up perfectly with the other answers that he had written so far.
"Oh! Would you look at that! It fits!"
"Heh, yay!"
Stan drained the rest of his coffee. He grabbed the other dishes on the counter and piled them into the sink. They could get washed later. Pushed to the side like most of the responsibilities he had with the house. While he did have Soos working for him, he wasn't a slave. Well, sure Soos worked for below minimum wage and in potentially dangerous conditions for his financial gain, but there was still a line. So long as he didn't lose his hands, he was capable of doing his own dishes.
"So, what are you two planning for today?"
The twins looked at each other again.
"Oh, just hang around." Ford Jr shrugged, attempting to seem nonchalant. "Maybe go swimming."
"The water isn't good for swimming." Stan quickly said. "Keep out of it."
"What? Why?"
"There's uh, well, piranhas, and a lot of glass shards in the sand!"
"Stan, piranhas aren't even native to New Jersey!"
"They are when your uh, fish-mongering business gets shut down."
Even Stan knew that the lie was clear in his voice. The twins however seemed like they would accept the explanation for now, even if it clearly was a lie. They probably wouldn't want to be incorporated into any more of his crimes as it was. Telling them the details of anything would just make them targets for the many enemies he had managed to make over the years. It was for the best that they didn't know the truth of what was kept buried near the end of the rocks.
Somewhat inevitably, the twins wound up suspiciously close to the beach. Mabel had sat down to resume building her sandcastles, but it was more of an act just in case Stan showed up. Dipper had said that he would join in and help her continue to build an empire out of sand. However, he was too busy thinking about what their great-uncle had said from before.
He was standing just by the edge of the water, dodging the waves as they washed up on the shore. He was pacing back and forth, deep in thought as he did so. Mabel couldn't help but roll her eyes. There were so many other things they could do, and he was more focused on whatever Stan was hiding from them.
"I wonder what he's hiding in the water."
"Dipper, we were told not to go near it."
"But he's hiding something!"
"Well of course he's hiding something, he's a criminal!" Mabel replied.
"There's a reason why we've never heard about him before Mabel! He could be a murderer! Maybe that's how he makes all his money! By killing people! Don't you remember when he came home last night? He must've had a body, and he dumped it in the water!"
"Or maybe he fed it to the piranhas!" Mabel suggested.
"Mabel, there are no piranhas in the water. Stan was lying!"
Mabel wondered if she should point out that she had been joking. Seeing all the still red meat in the fridge cleared up the events from last night. At least to her. Stan wouldn't actually bring a dead body in to the house! She decided against it, knowing that her brother was just going to keep getting worked up, no matter what she said to him.
"I think the bag was just filled with all that sausage! And there wasn't enough of it to be human meat!"
"We can't just let him get away with committing crimes! What if he really had killed someone last night?"
There was no doubt in her mind that Dipper had a point. Shouldn't they do something to stop Stan from committing all sorts of crimes? They had stolen from a grocery store, and endangered people with his driving. If they didn't do anything to report him, then they would be just as big criminals as Stan. Mabel didn't really like the thought of it.
She was a good person! Wasn't she? Stan... He made fake money, and he was always calling her brother Ford Jr. He couldn't be bothered with his name, and readily switched back and forth between calling her Maple and Mabel. He just wasn't trustworthy, and he didn't worry about their safety at all.
"Do you really think he'd really kill someone?" Mabel asked, no longer focused on her castles.
"He's already broken like, five laws just to buy groceries! Dangerous driving, resisting arrest, parking in a maternity spot, forgery, stealing! And he got away with all of it!"
"Stan wouldn't kill us though!" She insisted.
"What about that phone call he had with Grunkle Ford?" Dipper asked. "Two days. He was telling Ford that we only had two days left to live!"
Mabel paled, as she thought back to the conversation for the umpteenth time. Normally she would have thought that Dipper was just being paranoid. But things were different this time. There wasn't just articles from sketchy websites on the internet supporting his claims. They had heard the conversation themselves. Everything about it had been unsettling! But after she had talked with Stan a little more, she hadn't given it a second thought. As she remembered it now, the girl knew that something was majorly wrong. When Ford had asked to talk to them...
"He tried to warn us about something." She whispered. "Whatever you do, don't-! And then Stan interrupted him!"
"Exactly! And he then he said that he hated Grandpa Shermy! That he hates all of our family!"
"But we're Stan's family!"
"He must be trying to get revenge against everyone! And he's going to use us!"
"What do we do?!" Mabel asked. "Should we call mom and dad?"
"I think the best thing we can do for now is act natural." He answered. "We can't let him know that we suspect anything."
Dipper wanted to do anything but act natural. Their great-uncle could be out to kill them. He didn't want to think that Stan could actually kill them, but they hardly knew anything about the guy! Besides, their Grunkle Ford, who happened to be an adult that was actually responsible, told them that Stan was dangerous. They should trust his advice, not the actions of a total stranger.
The safety of his sister came first. She was his twin, the other half of the set! It didn't matter if Stan seemed like a nice guy on the surface. It didn't matter that his employee was a loveable man-child. (Although, even then he wondered how well they could trust the handy-man.) If there was a chance they would be in danger, he was not going to let them put up with the risk.
"Look, we can't know for sure if Stan wants to use us for some kind of crazy revenge plot." Dipper said, trying to calm down his sister. "But what we do know is that he might be dangerous to us."
"T-then what do we do?" She repeated, fingers digging into her sweater sleeves.
"If Grunkle Ford doesn't show before his time limit's up, we'll just have to run away."
"Where? How? Stan's got that huge wall surrounding the place!"
"Mabel, we can fit through the bars of the gate. It's evil villain logic one-oh-one."
"Oh."
Even as he came up with a plan for escape, his sister continued to seem sad and worried. She looked like she would enjoy nothing more than sinking deep inside of her bright blue sweater and never coming back. He felt the same. This whole situation was crazy. It was not how he had envisioned his summer.
"Hey, it'll be alright."
"What if something goes wrong?"
"I'd beat him to a pulp before I let anything happen to you."
She reached out, and squeezed his noodle-thin arm.
"Oh yeah? You and what muscles?"
"Mabel please! Stan's like, a million years old. I could probably break all of his bones by knocking him over!"
She giggled slightly.
"He is pretty old."
The back door opened. Stan stepped on to the porch and yelled at them;
"Kids! Lunch!"
The twins looked at each other.
"Didn't we just have breakfast?" Dipper asked.
"Yeah well I need to get rid of all this sausage somehow!"
The twins left the beach behind, at least feeling a little more safe, if not nervous about what was to come in the future. Stan was still in the kitchen, making a mess as he went. First, he opened the fridge. From it, he grabbed a long, endless link of sausage from the fridge. Then, he proceeded to pull it out towards the opposite counter. From there, he got a frying pan. Stan continued to drag it across the floor to where the knife block was. He chopped off the part of the link that had not touched the floor. The rest was thrown in to the fridge once again.
He placed the pan on the stovetop and piled the long link of sausages into it. Within a matter of minutes, the meat was sizzling and grease was popping in the pan. The smell of it made Stan hungry. Even with his ever-aging stomach growing smaller, he was not ready to give up on eating quite yet. Ulcers be damned, he was going to eat ten pounds of stolen meat and enjoy doing it.
It must have been residual instincts from his early days on the streets. Sometimes he was still surprised by the appearance of regular meals and food in the fridge. Heck, food to eat had not even been a perfect guarantee when he had been a kid. At least money had given him that much in life.
He turned off the burner, and slid the sausages on to a plate. They landed into a haphazard stack, leftover grease pooling at the bottom of the dish. From there, he grabbed himself a fork and a knife. After a brief moment of thought, he asked;
"You kids want any?"
Mabel shook her head. She went to one of the cupboards and grabbed herself a bowl of chips. Then, she picked up the sheet of comics that she had left on the counter from breakfast. She seemed less interested in talking to him for some strange reason. Meanwhile her brother nodded. He seemed to get sick of the sugary foods he and his sister had bought sooner than her. Stan grabbed a second plate and divided the sausages between them.
"Thanks."
Taking his knife, the boy cut open one of the sausages. He suspiciously picked it up with his fork and inspected the insides, as if he were searching for something specific. Stan knew that the butcher had the sausages especially made for some fancy event, so he assumed that they were the good kind, and probably safe to eat. Unlike him, they were not implicated in any crime schemes. They were pure pork and sausage casing.
"They're safe. Probably."
"Are you sure?"
"Well I st- purchased them lawfully from that butcher on main street. A man with a clean, upstanding reputation whose store is in no way a front for a criminal organization I may have crossed. Twelve times."
He took a bite, and carefully chewed the meat. When no razor blades or poison seemed to take effect, he took another bite. Stan resumed eating his own helping as well, while Mabel just wrinkled her nose. She went back to reading the comics, not wanting anything to do with the meat.
"She vegetarian or something?" He asked, pointing his fork at the girl.
"Only when you remind her where meat comes from."
"Well you're missing out." Stan replied.
"Yeah, these are actually pretty good."
Mabel didn't say anything. She raised the newspaper over her eyes so she didn't have to see them eating.
"Don't you get worried?" Dipper asked.
"About what? Eating animals?"
"No. Crime and stuff. What if someone tries to kill you one day?"
"Hah! Kid, why do you think there's a twenty-foot wall topped with live wires around the house?"
"What about the water? Someone could boat over!"
"They couldn't even swim over unless they had a tool box with them."
Dipper mentally filed away that bit of information. Whatever was in the water might be a security measure. Maybe Stan had somehow purchased underwater mines? As strange as it sounded, Dipper wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. He had learned a lot about crime from his great-uncle the past few days.
"What about the police?"
Stan looked at Mabel, and then at the outcrop of rocks by the ocean. Then, he whispered;
"Kid, I'm gonna' let you in on somethin': The police in this county, they can't touch me. They can't do anything about complaints from townspeople, and everyone knows it. I own three-quarters of Glass Shard Beach, and at least half of the region. The mayor's office, the judges, state prosecutors, everything. The average Shmoe can't do a single darn thing about me. Heck, chances are the average Shmoe relies on one of the grocery stores that I own for their food. Nothing short of a swat team's gonna' cause me any problems."
"Grunkle Stan..."
"What?"
"If you own grocery stores, then why bother stealing?"
"It's the principal of the thing Dipper! Why should I waste money buying food from my own store when I could steal from the competition and make them look bad in the process?"
"Well, it's kinda', wrong. Don't you ever feel bad about stuff like that?"
"Nope!"
"But what if it happened to you instead?"
The man finished off the last of his lunch. He placed his fork and knife on the plate, which he shoved away from his space. Dipper copied the action as he finished, wiping his mouth with his wrist.
"Revenge kid. They say there are only two animals on Earth that believe in revenge: Tigers and humans. Now, the worst thing an oversized cat can do is tear you to pieces. People however, can be hurt in a lot of different ways. If stealing their stuff doesn't work, you can drive them in to financial ruin. If they file for bankruptcy and end up scott-free, you break their legs in a way that their insurance won't cover."
"That's awful!"
"That's the business of doing crime."
"It's just..."
"What?"
"I don't like it."
"You don't have to like it."
The kid didn't say anything back to this. He bowed his head, fixated on the greasy stains the sausages had made on his plate. Stan looked back at Mabel, who seemed to be trying to melt the comics with her eyes. This was obviously an issue with her as well, even though she had tried not to bring it up. Stan supposed this was expected, given they weren't used to someone who had a life centered around their various criminal schemes.
Gaining their trust might become a little more troublesome than he thought. Asking them to overlook all the things he had done was more than a lot to want of them. They didn't know a fraction of what he had done during his lifetime! Yet of course, they were still startled and made uncomfortable by what little they had seen.
Their two days was almost up. Ford was going to arrive soon, probably a day later than he demanded. Stan knew if he didn't get things to work, his plans for revenge would be completely swept down the drain. There had to be some way to win the kids over, while making them look past his sketchy dealings.
Stan had already tried food bribery, which seemed to work in his favor. The niblings had appreciated roaming free and choosing to buy as much junk food as they could carry. Heck, even Di- Ford Jr had liked the sausages! That didn't seem like enough though. Buying them over with presents wouldn't work. It could be unconditioned out of their heads with more gifts from someone else. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was explain why he was purchasing a horse, and going to the black market to find some strong glue and a narwhal horn for his great-niece.
What did that leave him with? Stan didn't know anything about kids. Especially modern-day ones. All with their fancy technology and weird clothing. Granted, neither his niece nor nephew dressed like some of the other teenagers he had seen. Mabel was always wearing sweaters and skirts, even though it was the start of summer. Her brother was always wearing a baseball cap and vest. Stan wondered if Ford Jr had merely chosen to stay in the same clothes the past two days instead of changing. Either way, they weren't like the average teenager. Were they even teenagers? It suddenly occurred to the man that he had never asked their age.
"How old are you two?"
"Twelve." Said Mabel.
"But our birthday's the last day of summer." Dipper added. "So we're technically thirteen."
"It's been thirteen years since I last talked to Shermy..." Stan mumbled. "How am I still alive now?"
"Thirteen years? Really?" Mabel asked, setting down the paper.
"Yup! I don't think I've talked to him since your ma went into labor!"
"You were there?"
"I was arguing with Shermy and Ford when it happened!" He proudly declared. "Right up until the midwife remembered that the hospital had a restraining order filed against me! I'm not allowed to be within two hundred meters of the place after that incident with the coroner."
"Grunkle Stan are you always fighting with them?"
His smile wavered a bit, but he tried not to show it.
"Yup! Be glad that no one can mix up your identities like Ford and me. I mean, Stanley and Stanford! How can it get worse than that?"
Dipper hesitated a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, he took off his hat and pushed the hair away from his forehead. Right in the center of his forehead was a large strawberry birthmark. Stan had to stare at the arrangement of dots for a moment, trying to remember where he had seen such a formation.
"The Big Dipper! Ha! That name makes a lot more sense now! With parents like that, I'm surprised your sister isn't actually called Maple Pines!"
"Hey!"
"Yeah well..."
He blushed, and flattened the hair over his birthmark. Stan was reminded of Ford once again. Only this time, he was not trying to cover up his fingers, he was hiding a birthmark. Knowing how much his brother had been teased over it made Stan think twice before making any more jokes about his birthmark.
"They could've done a lot worse." Stan continued. "They coulda' name you Bear or Spoon. Think of all the nicknames that would bring on!"
Glad to have gotten the inevitable out of the way, Dipper covered up his birthmark.
"Heh, yeah."
Suddenly, the nick-name Dipper didn't seem so bad...
His real name however, was an entirely different story.
