#I seriously love villainous Pa Guck

[thelastspeecher]

A while back, I started writing the scene in the Superhero/villain AU where Stan meets Pa McGucket, bc I love writing villainous Pa McGucket so much.  I never got around to finishing the scene, though.

...Until today.  Enjoy.

              Stan opened the door to Angie’s hospital room.  He proudly held up the cup of water he’d been sent to get.

              “Took me a while, Ang, but I-”  The words died in his throat.  While he’d been gone, Angie’s family had arrived.  Both of her parents and all five of her older siblings were crowded around her bed, cooing over the newborns.  Stan recognized Angie’s mom, Sally, her older brother Fiddleford, and her twin, Lute, but the others were strangers.  Angie smiled weakly at him.

              “Stan, this is my fam’ly.”  Stan nodded. “You’ve met my ma.”  Stan nodded again.  “My pa’s the one holdin’ Danny.”  The middle-aged man who had Danny nestled in his arms scowled at Stan. He looked eerily like Lute, a fact that didn’t ease Stan’s nerves.  Lute was very explicit about his less-than-charitable feelings towards Stan. “Basstian is-” Angie continued. Her father put a hand on her shoulder.

              “Junebug, why don’t ya wait on the introductions,” he said smoothly.  He handed Danny to his wife.  “I want to have a talk with Stan, first.”

              “Oh- okay,” Angie stammered.  “Sorry,” she mouthed at Stan.  Mr. McGucket marched over to Stan, grabbed his shoulder, and shoved him out into the hallway.  Stan’s brain kicked into overdrive at the display of aggression.

              Okay, his power is plants, right? He can control them?  Yeah, that’s what Angie said.  Mr. McGucket dragged him to an isolated corner.  And his name.  What’s his name?  It’s somethin’ weird.  Mr. McGucket crossed his arms.

              “Explain yourself,” he snarled.  Stan held up his hands placatingly.

              “Look, Mearl, I-”

              “It’s Mr. McGucket to you, boy,” Mr. McGucket spat.  A nearby potted plant sprouted a few new leaves.

              Yep.  His power is plants.

              “You’ve got some nerve,” Mr. McGucket continued.  “Gettin’ my daughter pregnant, weaslin’ yer way into her life, and then not even gettin’ her to the hospital in time to give birth.”

              “Hey, I’m pissed about that, too,” Stan shot back.  “I didn’t want my brother to deliver my kids.  But Lute didn’t believe me when I said Angie was in labor.”  Mr. McGucket seemed taken aback.

              “Lute’s fault?  Is that so?”

              “Yes!  My brother’s doctorate isn’t in medicine, why the hell would I want him involved when my kids were born?  Angie and I had a plan.  I would fly her to the hospital since she couldn’t fly and there was construction. But my coworkers called and insisted that I come help, and I couldn’t get out of it.  Angie was still barely in labor, so I thought I would be back in time, but then things started happening fast, and like I said, Lute didn’t believe me, and by the time I got back home, I missed the birth of my daughters.”  The words tumbled out of Stan like they tended to around Angie’s disapproving relatives.  Stan caught his breath.  He waited for Mr. McGucket to respond.

              “Hmph.”  Mr. McGucket took off his glasses and idly polished them with his shirt, a carefully neutral expression on his face.  “That’s a fair point, that ya missed yer daughters’ birth.  From what I’ve heard ‘bout ya, from both my wife and my daughter, that’s not somethin’ you wanted one whit.”

              “No.  I wanted to be there.”

              “Mm-hmm.  And Lute does have a tendency to not listen to folks if he don’t like ‘em.”  Mr. McGucket put his glasses back on.  “Stan, I’m goin’ to ask ya a few questions now, and ya need to be truthful when ya answer ‘em, okay?”

              “I was gonna tell the truth anyways.”  Mr. McGucket scowled.  “…Yes, I’ll be honest.”

              “Good.  The first question I have for ya regards yer…career.”

              “Okay.”

              “If, fer some reason, somethin’ happened that made it impossible fer you to continue yer hero work unless you cut off contact with Angie and the kids, would ya stop bein’ a hero?”

              “Yes,” Stan said immediately.  Mr. McGucket raised an eyebrow.  “I- I’ve actually thought about that.  If the only way I could take care of Angie and my daughters was to stop being a hero and cut off all my ties with my squad, I wouldn’t even think about it. I’d just do it.”  Mr. McGucket nodded slightly.

              “I’m glad to hear that.  Now, would ya ever try to make Angie switch sides, or raise yer daughters to be heroes?”

              “No.  Angie’s too proud of her heritage.  All I’d do by trying to get her to become a hero is push her away.  And we agreed that we’ll raise the girls neutrally, so that they can choose which side they want to fight for when they’re old enough.”

              “Excellent.”  Mr. McGucket crossed his arms.  He leaned forward.  “You seem to be pretty fam’ly-oriented, boy.  My daughter said yer mother is a hero?”

              “Yeah.  Retired, but, yeah.  She’s why I got into the hero game.”

              “Hmm.  Would she ever be a concern?”

              “Angie and I haven’t told her that Angie’s a villain, if that’s what you’re asking.”

              “Yes, it is what I’m askin’.”  Mr. McGucket narrowed his eyes.  “And yer father?”

              “Out of the picture.”

              “Really?”

              “He kicked me outta the house before I was eighteen,” Stan said.  Mr. McGucket leaned back, clearly thrown off-guard.  “Not all of my scars are from fighting villains.” Mr. McGucket’s eyes widened.

              “Pardon?”

              “You heard me,” Stan mumbled, abruptly realizing he had accidentally shared information even Angie didn’t know.  He looked away.

              Why did I say that?

              “Stanley, what I just heard ya say was that yer father abused you,” Mr. McGucket said in a low voice.  “Is that correct?”  After a moment, Stan nodded reluctantly.  “Goodness gracious.”  Stan looked back at Mr. McGucket.  Mr. McGucket shook his head.  “That ain’t right.”  Stan remembered a conversation he’d had with Angie a month ago.

              “I’m just sayin’,” Stan said, handing Angie a sandwich on a plate, “you don’t really seem like a villain.”

              “You need to widen yer narrow-minded view of the world,” Angie said, shaking her head.  She rested the plate on top of her large baby bump.  “I’m a villain, through and through.  Always have been.”

              “But I’ve seen how you and Lute fight.  You never hurt civilians.  You only target places that can handle it.  And I’ve never seen you guys get involved in any of the really bad scenes, like drugs.”

              “That’s how we were raised,” Angie said with a shrug. “My folks aren’t traditional villains. Sure, we break the law.  Sure, we’ve infiltrated high levels of government before. But we don’t hurt those who are already hurtin’.  We only injure those who get in our way.  We don’t get our kicks from punchin’ homeless people.  My siblin’s ‘n myself, we were raised with strong moral compasses.  A sense of right and wrong.”

              “You still break the law.”

              “You said you noticed we never target mom ‘n pop stores,” Angie shot back.  “Like I said, we go after people what can take a beating.”

              “Yeah, but-”

              “And if you want to talk ‘bout right and wrong,” Angie interrupted, “how ‘bout we discuss the heroes that kick out their kids? Not all villains come from villainous fam’lies.  There are plenty of villains who were disowned by their hero parents fer not goin’ into heroism, or fer bein’ gay, or fer bein’ a dif’rent gender than they were given at birth.  There’s nothin’ right about that.  But the heroes get away with it.  ‘Cause they’re the ‘good guys’.”

              “How- how do you know that happens?”

              “I’ve met ‘em.  My fam’ly hosted a lot of runaways and homeless teens when I was growin’ up.”  Angie picked at her sandwich absentmindedly.  “My folks, they told us, ‘See?  This is what happens.  Heroes only accept those that fit their narrow views of what is right and what is good. Remember that we’re better than the heroes, ‘cause we accept everyone.’”

              “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Mr. McGucket said, drawing Stan out of the memory.  Stan stared at him in astonishment.  “No child should have to grow up in a household where a parent lays a hand on ‘em.”

              “I mean…yeah.  It sucked.” Mr. McGucket nodded somberly.  “But it also made me determined to do better than him.  To be better than him.  I tracked Angie down when I realized she was pregnant with my kid because I always wanted to be a better dad than mine was.”  Mr. McGucket smiled.

              “Yer a good guy, Stanley.  And I don’t mean that in the sense of how ya fight my children.  I mean that in the sense of what’s inside you.”  Stan opened and closed his mouth silently.  “I’ve known a lot of heroes who were bad guys. Took in some of their children, actually.  There’s too many people what have only known a home filled with anger and bruises.  I wanted them to experience one filled with love and warmth.”  Mr. McGucket looked off into the distance, his eyes misty.  “I’ve spent plenty of time interactin’ with heroes and villains. I know there’s no true moral consensus between all members of each side.  There’s bad folks who are heroes, good folks who are villains, and, like some of my former coworkers, bad folks who are villains.  Ya can’t trust what someone is like based on what side they’re on. Ya have to judge ‘em yourself.” Mr. McGucket patted Stan on the shoulder.  “If my daughter had to get involved with a hero, at least she got involved with one of the good ones.”  His smile was fatherly, his gray eyes twinkled with warmth.

              “Th-thanks.  Mr. McGucket.”

              “Don’t mention it.”  Mr. McGucket’s gaze hardened.  “But you listen, and you listen good.  If you ever so much as look wrong at my daughter or my grandchildren, you’ll be feedin’ the worms in my garden so fast it’ll make yer head spin.”  Mr. McGucket paused thoughtfully.  “Actually, yer head wouldn’t spin.  Muscles tend to freeze up upon death.”  He let out a chortle.  Stan’s blood ran cold.

              “I- I almost forgot for a second that you were a villain,” Stan confessed. Mr. McGucket laughed again.  He squeezed Stan’s shoulder painfully.

              “It wouldn’t be in yer best interests to forget that again,” he hissed. Stan nodded jerkily.  “Good.  Now, let’s head back to the room, and you can meet the rest of the fam’ly.”

              “Can’t wait,” Stan mumbled.