Despicable Dad Ch. 1

Vector had watched numerous villains walk the long hallway of the Bank of Evil. There hadn't been one yet that didn't exude some degree of nervousness no matter how many times they had been there already. Not that he could blame them; the loaning of money wasn't taken lightly by his father. Even the architecture of the building was designed to intimidate its customers.

But never Vector. Being the only son of a rich banker definitely had its perks; he would never need to worry about his own father denying him any sum of money he might need. He was financially secure for life…at least…as long as his evil plots were successful.

For the first time, Vector knew exactly how the other villains felt as he made his way to the reception desk at the other end. Mr. Perkins was not tolerant of failure; especially when it involved his son. And getting stuck on the moon and requiring a multi-million dollar rocket to rescue him was considered quite a big failure, he was sure.

The lady at the desk spoke into the intercom before he even got to the desk, "Mr. Perkins, your son is here to see you."

Vector could hear the irritated edge to his father's voice when he replied, and he got an even worse sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath then began ascending the stairs that led to his father's office. It had been a long time since he had been truly in trouble with his father, before he had started becoming successful as a villain, for sure. But he remembered his father's constant disappointment in him when he was a kid, especially after he entered high school. Mr. Perkins had never said it outright, but Vector knew that he would have preferred his son to have been a large, intimidating villain who could threaten with just a look, someone more like himself. Instead, he had gotten Vector.

He hesitated for several seconds when he got to the door, fearful of what might be in store for him once he entered. He had to swallow hard to wet his rapidly drying throat, before finally reaching for the handle.

"…mmn…hi, dad…"

Mr. Perkins didn't look up from the paperwork on his desk, "Have a seat, Victor."

Vector didn't bother to correct his father on his name this time; it was one of the few times that he actually knew when to keep his mouth shut. He seated himself in the chair opposite his father and waited. He was made even more uncomfortable by the long silence in which his father continued to read what was laid out on his desk, occasionally making a note in the margin. He busied himself with tugging at the stitching of his orange sleeve absent mindedly, knowing how awkward he looked but unable to change it.

Finally, Vector found the courage to speak.

"Uh…thanks for sending that rocket, dad…"

Silence.

"I…don't think I would have lasted much longer up there," he chuckled weakly, "I was running out of oxygen, and it's a lot colder on the moon than you'd think."

Still no response.

"I was…afraid I was gonna get frostbite on my—"

"Do you know how much that rocket cost, Victor?"

Vector felt his stomach churn, again, "Um…a lot?" he lowered his head, glancing up at his father from behind his oversized glasses nervously.

"Five hundred forty nine million nine hundred eighty seven thousand six hundred and seventy three dollars…"

"…oh—" Vector was cut off again as his father leaned over the desk towards him.

"…and thirty two cents."

Vector tugged at the bottom edge of his warm-up jacket, "I'm sorry."

His father looked a bit taken aback.

"You're sorry?" he repeated, "Hm…"

He stood from his chair, hands behind his back, and slowly made his way around the desk and behind Vector's chair.

"You fail to steel the moon, you let that old has-been, Gru, outsmart you…" he shook his head, "you get stuck outside the Earth's atmosphere, and you force me to spend five hundred forty nine MILLION nine hundred eighty seven THOUSAND six hundred and seventy three dollars and THIRTY-TWO-CENTS in order to bring you back empty handed."

"Dad, I—"

"And all you can say is 'I'm sorry'."

"I'm s-…I didn't…I-I tried…"

"You know…" Mr. Perkins rounded the other side of his desk to stand on the opposite side of his chair, "I knew that my son wasn't particularly strong. I knew he was socially awkward and would never really fit in with normal society…"

Vector felt a sharp stab at those words.

"…but I never thought he was stupid."

He felt an even sharper stab. Vector couldn't even look at his father at this point.

"…until now."

"I…" Vector stuttered, "Dad, I know it was a stupid mistake, but… I-I promise it won't happen again."

He glanced up to his father again to see that permanently engrained scowl, "I WILL reimburse you for the rocket, dad, I WILL. I'll figure something out."

His father chuckled again, "You really think that you can come up with that amount of money without my financial help?"

"Just give me a chance," Vector pleaded, "I know I can do it somehow; I'll just steel something else, and—"

There were a few more moments of silence as his father reseated himself, picking up his gold-plated pen and tapping it on the desk.

"Alright, Victor. I'll give you another chance."

Vector sat upright in his chair with a smile, "Yes! You won't regret it, dad, I swear! My next plan will buy you twenty rockets just like that one!"

He almost vibrated with giddiness as he opened the door out of his father's office, "The next time I see you, I will once again be the greatest villain of all time!!"

"Victor."

He turned back and looked through the door to his father, who was already looking over his paperwork again.

"This is your last chance."