Priscilla's feelings had festered as they made their way towards the manor's underground chambers. She had been thinking away to herself, silently stewing over the matter - and only growing angrier. More determined to get her daughter back into their contro-
Family.
Back into their family.
As determined as she was, and as much as she stormed down the warpath fiercely, it was a less than pleasant excursion. The depths of the town were almost as filthy and ramshackle as those above. It was dark and dirty, thick with clay and clods of earth, streaked in strange, blue bioluminescence.
It was all a sort of constant, throbbing, pulsating darkness that echoed its own silence. Echoed the sound of critters miles away, the rumble of cars and rattle of pine needles flowing in the wind. It resulted in a bizarre, dull, hollowing rumble that pierced her prosthetic teeth and rattled the $61,800 dollar diamonds in her ears.
Pools of blue-tinged liquids, gently glowing, seemed to bubble and boil in alcoves and pits, and flickering golden lights shook gently in the soft, cavernous breezes, each one blinking as its glass vessel knocked against the soft, subterranean walls in a sequential fashion that seemed almost man-made.
"Really, dear, your family had no taste in subterranean decor." Priscilla said as she walked through the dank, underground hallway. "These piffly little lanterns are all very - uh - medieval Europe."
"Well, you know how it is. Collaborating with these European aristocrats. Ironically, very without frills when it comes to essential infrastructure."
"Clearly." She sniffed. "It smells like liquorice down here."
"Fennel, actually."
"What is it?"
"Oh, uh - just a family relic. Not - not worth thinking about, really."
"Really, Preston. You and your secrets."
"My dear, it was difficult enough explaining the triangle fellow to you after that uh… Weirdmageddon business. I promise that you don't need to know what else is under the mansion. There are places even a seasoned Northwest shouldn't tread."
Priscilla pursed her lips as Preston led her into the manor's bowels, where stone brick and bunker surrounded them. Even now, nearly two decades into their marriage, Priscilla felt disconcerted by knowing such a place had existed under her feet.
The strange smell of liquorice and herb, that faint, glowing blue aura. The flickering of old lanterns. It was an intimidating sort of atmosphere - one that threatened to drown any good intentions the family had left.
After all, how could the good guys have this kind of thing under their home? Priscilla wasn't usually to the sort to consider good, bad, that kind of thing, but with the whole town rebelling against them - well, it was hard to block these things out completely.
Though it wasn't out of a need for morality.
She was rather hoping that her husband would actively quash it this time. Not just through newspaper fluff, but through actions. Preferably shocking ones. The time for all of this subtlety was over. No more Toby Determined. No more mudflap discounts. No more sending birthday cards to the mayor with grovelling portraits of pumas. It was time to really push things. Push the townsfolk into the next level of Corporate disillusion. Take the next step.
They had been kind for too long. If they were the bad guys? Fine. They'll be the worst. Classic, Nathaniel Northwest era nastiness. She was done playing. She had tried to be supportive and in return, her daughter had allowed one of the family's prized designer gnomes to get shattered into a million expensive pieces.
Pacifica had ended up in prison. Her daughter had not only done such stupid things but been stupid enough to get caught. The disease of the townsfolk's utter, inane stupidity had infected her. They were certain of it. It made Priscilla feel positively nauseous to consider her daughter becoming one of those - one of those country bumpkins.
And if Preston wasn't going to go to the extremes? Well, Priscilla would. It was clear that Preston, by hook or by crook, had become synonymous with weakness in the Northwest name. She would claw it back. She would maintain things. She would nurture things. She was a mother. It was what she did!
Sort of.
She was pretty sure she had a few times - y'know, in her way. In a sort of buy things and occasionally manipulate way.
In any sense, she was growing fiercely discontented with Preston's approach to all of this. It had been almost an entire summer break, and the fact her daughter - her flesh and blood - still refused to toe the party line was only becoming more of an irritant.
Her gnomes.
Her fence.
Her topiaries.
Her daughter!
She clenched her perfectly manicured fists as she followed her husband's lead, silently gnashing her teeth. She knew her husband could be pigheaded, but her daughter was raised to be far less troublesome. The picture of sass and attitude on the outside, and completely subservient behind closed doors! Attitude, spirit, personality, yes! The people expected that! But rebellion? Rebellion against them?
Preston had been correct all along and was completely correct to be so callous. She had come to realise that, and perhaps come to resent it even more than him. After all, she had wanted her daughter back, and what had he done?
A newspaper advert.
A newspaper advert in the Gossiper!
It was barely even a newspaper! More - more like a hick pamphlet!
She had once been somewhat proud of her daughter's ability for being headstrong. She had once even been somewhat proud of the fact Pacifica had made so many monumental decisions for herself, even if they were all…
Wrong.
Wrong and working class.
But deep in her somewhat economically twisted mind, it felt like a severe insult - a personal indignity, even - to keep confronting the fact her daughter had chosen this scruffy little family of losers, frauds and turtleneck wearers over them.
No, she stood by her idea. The town needed a crisis, and they had the power to provide it. It wouldn't just be foolish not to do it, it'd be a waste of the family's repute, the family's power, the family's history…
And, well, when had the townspeople ever been hurt by what they didn't know?