Author: Idonquixote PM
Semi-AU. 1989. Rogue Soviet agent Felonius Gru meets his match in America's three most annoying weapons: a trio of orphans. It all goes downhill from there.Rated: Fiction T - English - Suspense/Family - Chapters: 8 - Words: 17,007 - Reviews: 14 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 6 - Updated: 05-04-13 - Published: 04-23-12 - id: 8051820
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Well, sorry for the wait, but I had to get some other things done first. So for those of you reading/ reviewing, thank you for taking the time and I hope this continues to entertain.
Disclaimer: I don't own DM
"Do you have some kind of pancake disorder?" Margo asked.
Her guardian frowned, steering the shopping cart away from her. The farther apart he was from the brats, the better. Unfortunately, the youngest one was in the toddler seat and staring right at him. Talking.
"Do you have a talking disorder?" he snapped, plucking two cans of soup from the middle of the can stack. He hoped it would collapse soon. Heh heh.
"Why are you laughing?" Edith said, dropping more bars of candy into the cart (without Gru's permission).
The stack collapsed. "Hey, that is funny."
He double-checked the grocery list. Pancake flour. Check. Eggs. Check. Pancake flour. Check. Soup. Check. Pancake flour. Check. Vegetable oil. Check. Pancake dough. Check. Oatmeal. Check. Unicorns-
"What the-?" He sighed, glaring down at the girl in the cart. "Did you do this?"
"Maybe. And I'm going to own a unicorn farm. And there'll be one named Alice and-"
"Yes, yes. That is very nice, but I'm going to need you to be qui-et now. Okay? Okay?"
"Okay." She pursed her lips together, then broke them apart again. "Then I'm going to-"
GAH. He pushed the cart down another aisle, just in time to see a mop of copper hair. Immaculatey combed and still with a curly loose strand- he caught his breath. He hadn't seen that strand in decades.
The man was smiling at a young teenager, her giggling at his every word. He wasn't as boyish, Gru'd give him that. But there was no doubt- that was him. That was Lloyd Richardson, with his sculpted chin and sea blue eyes, with all the finesse of a gentleman.
And his cart was empty.
That wasn't good. Were they onto him again? Carefully, he steered the cart away, but not before picking Edith up and setting her on his shoulders- hopefully her body would hinder Richardson's view of his profile.
"Hey, is this a piggy back ride?"
"What was that for?" Margo asked with a frown. "Mr. G-"
He coughed loudly.
"Just stick with me, Demidov," he said with a sneer, "and we can't go wrong."
"Are you sure this is safe, comrade?" the younger man asked, sticking his head out of the plane.
"There's only one way to figure it out."
Gru smiled. Before he shoved Demidov out. "Remember to pull the parachute!"
"You're evil, you know that!"
"Yes, yes I do!"
Natascha shook her head at him. "You're both terrible kissers, Felonius. I need to practice on someone better."
He scoffed and prepared to jump. Just get into the base and out- the Americans won't even see it coming. "You'll be trying on that Richardson anyway."
"He's handsome, but really? I thought Perkins was the target."
"Make sure you remember that, comrade." He jumped.
Lloyd had his suspicions. He went through Perkins' files on this "Gru." Bastard's keeping something from me.
The guy was a comic book villain- he was wasting his time on him. This little war had been going on far too long and the Bureau's top financer was just one gigantic corrupt thorn in their side. The thought of Perkins even being a field agent once made him sick.
But Perkins had insisted that this client of his was the Igumnov, the one they'd been trying to catch for years. Then why was he only showing it to him now- obviously because Perkins had stopped profitting from him, Lloyd deducted.
He had spent a week passing by the location of the call, from Gru's ward (apparently). The house was showy, the car was showier, and the man tried to use Alfred Hitchock for his profile.
Hell, he'd even followed the showy car to the supermarket. And now his own car was dented because of the other man's horrible driving skills.
He didn't care about Gru's personal life (or his pancake fetish). But he wasn't about to call him "Igumnov" just yet.
He didn't hear enough of the man's voice and he never got a clear look at his face.
But if Perkins was so intent on accusing him, so be it. Lloyd put the files back in order and thought of the next order of business.
It was thundering hard. Agnes screamed shrilly, jumping into Edith's bunk. The blonde growled, sitting up.
"Margo, we can't sleep."
Agnes trembled and the oldest sibling put on her glasses. Darn it- they were heavy. "Try to."
Another flash of lightning. Boom.
They all screamed.
Hugging her sisters, Margo wondered what to do. They could huddle together and wait for it to- Boom! They screamed again. She never liked the thunder, but back at Ms. Hattie's, the rooms were smaller and there were more people.
To be frank, Mr. Gru's house was no better than a haunted one.
Her children huddled behind her, sobbing and screaming. The woman shot him.
She was out of bullets. Clutching his bleeding shoulder, Lloyd stalked closer- it had been quite a scuffle and he wasn't about to desert the mission just yet. "Why?" he asked.
Natascha glared; no, not Natascha- he knew that wasn't her real name, nothing he knew about her had been real. "I vill not tell ze likes of you."
There was something in her eyes- almost trust. Almost as if she thought what they had meant something. His shoulder ached. No, he couldn't fall for her trap. She was the one that betrayed him, them, the bureau.
"Where is the information?"
"If you don't tell me, I'll be forced to hurt you."
"Tell Perkins I'll see him een hell."
The boy was on his knees, begging him not to shoot. "Please, please!" Like it was the only word he knew. He remembered his own father; how the convict had just killed the cop like a dog.
"I'm sorry," he said stiffly.
She knew what she was getting herself into. She knew this was the consequence- she knew Perkins wouldn't let her get away with humiliating him. Her comrades didn't give a damn.
"Please tell me," he said again.
"No, Lloyd. I do what I must- it's what I believe in." She said it fiercely.
Trying not to scream, Margo led her sisters into the large bedroom. Stepping over the dog (?), they hastily made their way over to the bed. Mr. Gru was muttering something to himself. Weirdo.
Without warning, Agnes leapt into the covers and huddled by the man's side. Margo and Edith followed suit. Boom.
"Mr. Gru?" she whispered.
"What?" he asked groggily. Either he didn't mind their presence or he was completely oblivious to the situation at hand. The latter was more likely.
"Can we stay with you?"
"Get away from that!"
He was sleep-talking. "Please, for Agnes and Edith, at least," she begged.
"Get over here." His eyes opened slightly. "Fine, fine, whatever."
And he was out again. Margo allowed herself a moment of rest- the thunder wasn't as scary now. Now that they were all together, more or less.
He stumbled through the small tunnel, the sound of alarms all around him. "Maman!"
She didn't answer him, as usual. Boom. He fell, clutching his head- Jacques wasn't nearby. He crawled away and ran again. "Maman!" Boom. Boom.
Sobs. He stopped. "What?"
A familiar little girl with chocolate brown eyes and her two companions. Were they stupid? Did they want to get bombed!
"Get away from that!" he shouted.
"Can we stay with you?" the girl with glasses asked. He ran towards them and scooped the smallest one up- he tugged at the other two and led them away from the booms. "Get over here."
Boom. And they were running, away from the sirens, away from the bombs. For some reason, he was a man again- for some reason he knew their names- wait a minute-
Here he was, staking outside the man's house again, binoculars in hand. Lloyd frowned.
Maybe he shouldn't have joined the Bureau in the first place- he couldn't even catch one man. And his superior wasn't exactly the image of patriotism. No! What was he saying- he had to join.
His old man would have wanted it. His country would have wanted it. It was everything he had promised his father.
But what did you promise her?
That hadn't been real. He had spoken in a fit of passion that night, told her that he could save her, make her better, be with her. It hadn't meant anything. But it did. No, it didn't.
Not when he walked past that crying child, the boy's eyes glazed and disbelieving as he stared down at the body. Emotion didn't belong in his line of work. He positioned the binoculars.
And nearly fell backwards. Perkins had been right.
He had aged over the years, but there was no doubt- the penguin nose, the arched back- it was Igumnov.
"How long are you going to entertain them?" Nefario asked, not pleased at all.
Gru shifted nervously, marking the dates on the calendar. "Sheesh, take a chill pill, doctor- it's-"
"No! Did you forget what our plans were? And did you just tell me to take a chill pill!"
"As I said, it's nothing- we'll-"
Nefario was in his face. "Listen here, boy. If we don't start cleaning up our act, someone will have to do something. I don't care who- and neither should you."
"Wow, that rhymed."
The doctor glared and wheeled himself out. Maybe Nefario was right, maybe- something ticked from above. He had to get the food out; heaven forbid the girls whine about hunger again.
"Margo, what's wrong- you're acting all freaky," Edith said, lazily flipping the channels.
The brunette ignored her. She felt like someone was watching them- probably just a minion... cousin. She relaxed.
"Do you like it here, guys?" she asked.
"Mmm hmm!" Agnes jumped on the couch. And kept jumping.
"I guess," Edith mumbled.
Margo sank back in her seat. Did she like it here? No... of course not.
This is really fun to write, and I think next update will be faster. So stay tuned, and feel free to review!