Preston Northwest puffed on a cigar as he sat in his armchair, ruminating over a combination of self congratulation and anger.
To say he was angry would be an understatement. He was furious. He had spent a long time searching for those damned journals. He had seen them during the Weirdmageddon crisis and knew exactly how powerful the things were. If he could only find the third...
Bill Cipher was not unknown to him. He had welcomed him. Even if he had shown less... Appreciation for his offer of collaboration than he expected. In a town full of worthless, backwards people such as this, he was confident that those journals could bring power back to his hands.
And now they had been taken from him. All for the love of his precious daughter. The daughter he had treated like a queen.
And why? He had done nothing wrong. At least, not here. He was sure of it. His daughter works in a Diner, he finds a way to remove it from the picture.
It was enterprising, damn it. Not some sort of atrocity.
He was used to getting his way and getting it with style. That these people, these poor people who thought they could take from him. Take his money, take his journals, take his daughter, and infest his own flesh and blood with these twisted ideals of just getting by?
Unacceptable. A Northwest doesn't get by. A Northwest wins and flattens the competition.
He briefly touched his nose. A sort of phantom fear regarding the orifices on his face staying in place. His own personal trauma of the big event.
He knew damned well more than the town thought. He knew damned well more than the Pines thought.
Oh yes, he knew Stan Pines wasn't the chap that visited him in 1981. He had it all figured out. They think they can pull the wool over his eyes? Not over a Northwest. He had been waiting for Bill Cipher. He had been waiting for all of this nonsense and he had been waiting for that little twerp, Dipper Pines, to upend his family.
He knew it was coming and he wasn't going to sit idly by. If he had a way to get rid of a child, he was not above the idea. That boy had interfered quite enough.
He bristled and threw the rest of his cigar in the fireplace, as there came a knock on the door.
Preston brushed back his hair and adjusted his cuffs before he opened the door.
The Pines wanted a fight? He'd get to it like a gentleman.
"Ah, look, my little cat burglar has returned." He greeted them, dripping with sarcasm. "How nice. Returned my belongings, I hope. That drip of alcohol was worth more than your pancreas would get on the black market!"
Stan was not the best at keeping cool, especially when confronted. "I'll have your head on the black market, you little creep! Let me show you how we did it in Glass Shards before we put you up on auction!"
Stanford held his brother's fist back and tried to defuse what he could. "Now, Mr. Northwest. Please. We'd like to talk about the powers you're dealing with. Those journals are a matter of security."
"You really think I'm unaware what those things were?" Preston sneered, stepping toe to toe with Stanford and glaring. "My man, I went through some of the most prestigious schooling this country has to offer. I'm sure Backupsmore taught you how to pick your nose with those extra fingers, but it didn't teach you to keep it out of my business!"
Stanford maintained as much of a calm composure as he could. "Those journals were never yours to take, Preston. But then, for your family, everything is fair game, I suppose. No, I'm afraid you having those journals is quite out of the question."
"Then give me my daughter." Preston snapped.
"Your daughter is with us through her own choice." Ford replied. "We're all aware of your actions."
"And I've no remorse." Preston's hands clenched. "I do what I have to do, to keep Pacifica safe."
Stan balked. "By teaching her to be leech like you? That kid is too good for you. She's happier at the Shack than any Manor or stately home!"
"Happier while breaking the law." Scoffed Preston. "How proud you must be, Pines."
"If you want something to train and keep looking pretty, get a dog. For now, Pacifica stays where she's happy. You got that, slick?" Stan retorted, jabbing Preston firmly in the chest.
"Don't you dare walk away from me, you bloated old ship wreck!"
Stan clenched his fist. "Or what? You want a piece of me? You wanna get nuts? C'mon, Let's get nuts, beanpole!"
Stanford and Priscilla stood on the sidelines and rubbed their temples as the two men ran at each other.
...This was going about as well as it could be expected.