When Feathers 'Dove' McGinty finally cracked, he sang like a songbird. Fitting, what with his name and all - but there was only so much he knew, and only so much even he could tell the Pines family about the way the organisation operates.

He didn't even know the big man's name.

What he did know, however, confirmed their worst ideas. The Clurichauns were aiming for a hostile takeover of every restaurant, bar, eaterie, Crispy Cremey Dunkin' Munch Palace and Lactose King establishment - not only in Gravity Falls, but the wider area.

Not for money. No, the profits came from further down the line. The restaurants were just part of a supply chain. What the supply chain was, though, he kept schtum on - no matter how many threats were made against his person.

Feathers coyly, cryptically stated that they simply brought the Gravity Falls underworld what they needed most - brought the cryptids, gnomes and more the one thing everybody needed since the events of Weirdmageddon.

"We bring 'em pleasure, humes. Moments of relaxation that you privileged 'normal' people take for granted. A little bit of relaxation, a little bit of comfort." He said. "I ain't sayin' anymore. My life ain't worth the entire operation being flipped over."

"You know you gotta tell us, man." Dipper protested. "You want to lose your feet to porky over there?"

"L-listen, I'm being serious. I know you guys mean business, I get it - but this guy, the boss, he's twice as dirty. I promise ya, he's gonna have me iced for this alone. I- I can't tell ya anymore, I ain't a squealer and I ain't a dunski!"

Dipper, Pacifica, Mabel and Kevin looked up to Stan.

Stan grinned evilly. "Guess we gotta test that, pal. Kids, you might wanna get outta here. This is gonna get hairy. I'm gonna teach this guy some Cold War Baltic Prison Techniques."

Feathers gulped. "Hey, hey, hey, let's not get nuts here, chief-"

"You wanna get nuts? Let's get nuts." Stan growled, grabbing the chair and pulling it into the Shack's broom cupboard, dragging his bag of equipment behind him. The door slammed shut to more frantic, panicked protestations from the little, square jawed mob boss, screaming and swearing like a man possessed by nothing but fear.

The kids glanced at each other.

"Man, I feel kinda bad for him." Mabel cringed. "I mean, if his boss is that bad…"

"It's a dirty business." Kevin said, gesturing slightly with his hands, as if to illustrate his point with confidence. His somewhat stilted tone proved that even a rough-and-ready Corduroy found this a bit… vicious. "Like, we gotta get info from somewhere, right?"

"Plus, we heard how nasty he was to people." Dipper shrugged. "It's not like he's a good guy, right?"

"I dunno," Pacifica murmured, rubbing her arm nervously. "As long as Stan doesn't kill him."

"Pretty sure Grunkle Stan isn't a murderer, save the odd spider, or zombie, or toffee peanut bag, Pacifica. You've probably come closer to killing him for calling you a broad!" Mabel giggled.

Pacifica huffed and held her fist. "Some things just aren't okay, y'know?"

"Look, guys, I get the worry, but I think we're doing something good, here," Dipper said. "It's not pretty, but it's necessary. This is a mob thing, not just like… stealing candy or something."

The kids were forced to concede. How bad could they honestly feel for a swearing, rant filled, chauvinistic, violent, switchblade handling, restaurant burning fae? He wasn't just a bit of a nasty piece of work, he was rude about it and proud of it.

It was like a real mobster movie. They just needed to find out who the damned big man was, and, more importantly, where he was.

The screaming, shouting and protests were overbearingly loud. The kids didn't know what Stan was doing to him, and didn't want to know. They could already make out that it was utterly brutal, and going on for far too long.

Inside the broom cupboard, Grunkle Stan was now on joke number 645 from his book of 1001 Yuk-'em-Ups. Feathers McGinty was sobbing in agony, tears running down from underneath his wide brimmed fedora, begging for mercy.

"Alright," He cleared his throat and grinned as he turned the page. "Joke No.645 - this is a good one. Short too."

"Please, please, please, no more, hume, look- I'm - I'm tellin' ya, ya gotta believe me, I've said all I can say-"

"My mother-in-law…"

"I'm beggin' ya! I'm beggin' ya! No more! Quit it! Pop on th'brakes!"

"What a man! HA! You get it?! It's funny 'cause nobody likes their in-laws!"

"NOOOOO! ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I CAN TELL YOU ONE MORE DAMNED THING, I CAN, I'LL TELL YOU THE LAST BIT I CAN SAY-"

"Ya sure? I mean, there's volume two as well in here somewhere-"

"The mob's HQ is in what's lefta The Crawlspace! Y'know, on Gerron Street! We- we rebuilt parta th'joint! Look, pal, I'm beggin' ya, don't give me another yuk-'em-up! For the love of all that's holy, don'tcha have any decency or mercy?! I'm just an employee! I'm staff! I'm a goon! No more, no more!"

"Thanks for collaborating, McGinty." Stan grinned, slamming the book shut. "But if you dare try and turncoat on us, you know what'll happen…?"

The shaking, snivelling little man looked up at him fearfully as the old man leered over him with a wide, yellowed grin. "Wh-w-what else could ya possibly do?"

"Simple, chief," Stan replied, firmly. "I'll buy the special edition ."

Dipper, Pacifica, Mabel and Kevin never discovered what happened behind those doors - but the Clurichaun was a very different man to the one they had captured. Stan had given him a crippling fear of the entire group.

There were no threats, no swears, no tough-guy actions. He didn't have it in him against his surprisingly formidable captors. Feathers McGinty swore to secrecy and scarpered off into the forest with no small amount of panic, barely saying another word.

The kids never dared to even think what Stanley had done. Everybody knew that Stan Pines had a dark side to him - a side that not even the curious siblings dare venture into. But to see a stereotypical tough guy come out a snivelling wreck…it was proof enough how serious Stanley Pines was capable of taking the world.

They had developed a newfound respect for their Grunkle that day - and, with the newfound knowledge he had provided for their investigation, they were forever grateful. Their next stop was all too familiar to them, and all too reviled. It wasn't a place any of them took solace, pleasure or even curiosity in visiting - not least since discovering what its destruction had led to.

"I am sick of going down there." Pacifica sighed, as Dipper patted her back reassuringly. "I mean, seriously, we need to go underground again? It's filthy, it's full of wreckage, and that… Knocker guy freaks me out."

"He was friendly, though!" Mabel chirped.

"He's a wrinkly blue thing in a loincloth. It freaks me out. Besides, we all know what's happened there in the past, right? It can't be anything good."

"If he's been doing his job, though, he'll have seen everything, right?"

"Right." Pacifica huffed. "Creepy bald guy, the oracle. Great."

Stan grinned as he hoisted a loop of rope around his shoulder. "Well, there's no time like the present, kids. We've got a mob boss to take down."

Dipper was just about to slip his beanie back on when Pacifica grabbed his hand.

"I dunno about that." She said, simply.

Stan paused as he tied up his combat boots and looked to his adopted Great Niece. Griece? Whatever Pacifica was, unofficially. "Huh?"

"It's 11."

Stan looked at his imitation gold watch and grimaced. "Man, times flies when you're having fun."