Quite possibly the only people with no handicaps to their powers are Luther and Five. Everyone else has some form of kryptonite, something that can easily render them powerless.
Diego, for instance: Just take away anything to throw and his powers are null. Drugs and alcohol act as an effective stopper for Klaus. Ben's horrors were still made of flesh and could be injured. Even Vanya, as strong as she is, can be defeated immediately by a lack of sound. For Allison, though? It's her voice.
Something so simple as being mute makes her essentially ordinary.
Being unable to speak reminds her of a memory from her childhood, so long ago she'd nearly forgotten, but it stands out all the same.
They were seven years old. Five had not run away yet, and Ben was still alive. Diego still stuttered. Vanya still smiled.
Reginald Hargreeves had lined them up in a row, in number order. Vanya wasn't apart of it. Allison was too young to wonder why.
"I know Number Four has not discovered his power yet," Reginald said, his voice sharp and authoritative. It left no room for argument. "But this does not exempt you. Now, it has come to my attention that the six of you, while learning to grasp your abilities, are not equipped for combat scenarios." Allison raised her hand, a question bubbling in her young mind. "I know what you mean to ask, Number Three, and in some situations, you may not be able to use your power."
"When?" Allison asked.
"When, for instance, there is nothing to throw. Number Two, what do you do?"
Diego shifted his weight. "I... I d-do-don't-"
"Speak clearly," Reginald ordered.
"Picture the word," Five whispered discreetly.
Diego gulped, then tried again. "I-I don't- I don't kn-know."
Reginald trudged right on. "And Number Three? What if you find yourself rendered mute?"
Silence. They were all confused. Why was he asking them this?
"During certain portions of the day, your lessons will be postponed in favor a new training regimen. There will be no exceptions to this and no complaints. This is mandatory." He glanced over at Vanya, who lingered awkwardly by the staircase. "Including you, Number Seven."
Vanya brightened, happy at finally being included.
Allison remembers how soon after they started training, Reginald would pull some of them off to the side for personalized training. She didn't really understand why Diego came back stuttering badly and trembling, or why Five shoveled his food afterward at dinner like he'd never eat again. No, she didn't understand until it was her turn.
"Where are we going?" Allison asked, following her father obediently out to the car. Reginald did not look back at her.
"Silence, Number Three."
Ah, that word. Allison hated silence. She hated being silent. It made her feel powerless.
They drove for a while. She sat in her designated spot, right in the middle, despite no one else being there. Force of habit.
The car rumbled to a stop. She peered out the windows, then hopped out as Reginald slammed the door behind him.
"Where are we?" Allison asked him. They were standing outside a large, empty warehouse.
"Training" was the simple answer. "Come along now."
Allison trailed him inside the warehouse. Along the walls, there were big, bold printed numbers, and beneath them were various items. For both One and Six, there were large training dummies. For Two, there were knives. For Five, there was a long length of rope. And for Three, there was only a strip of cloth.
Farther off, there were big, colorful targets with holes in them. Probably from Diego.
"You will need to practice fighting without your powers," Reginald said, picking up the cloth. "For the rest of the session, you will not be permitted to use your voice."
Allison shakes her head. That was the moment she began to genuinely, truly hate Reginald Hargreeves. She never found out what he'd done to her siblings in that warehouse, but she knows it was most likely just as traumatic. No one talked about stuff like that. Those were taboo topics.
Not anymore.
The Apocalypse isn't the nicest place she's lived in. The air tastes bitter and everything is uncomfortably hot, but it's overall not as terrible as she thought it would be. There aren't any zombies, and the number of corpses is lower than she'd expected. She'll never get accustomed to the red-gray color of the sky, though. She wonders if Five was exaggerating the quality of this place.
They'd found a basement earlier. It's virtually untouched, with only the building on top reduced to cinders, so that's where they took Vanya. Allison dropped off Five in an upstairs room then immediately went to Vanya. Luther was standing there, arms crossed in the doorway.
He almost stopped her from going inside. The glare she shot him could melt glass.
So now, she sits at Vanya's side, while Luther watches from a safe distance. Allison can feel his pleading gaze on her, but she can't bear to look at him. Things are too messed up right now.
Finally, she can't take the constant pressure, so she flips open her notepad and writes something in thick, blocky letters so he has no reason to misunderstand her. She holds it up for him to see.
I WANT SOME TIME ALONE.
"Allison, I can't—"
Her pen touches paper again, cutting him off.
SHE'S MY SISTER.
"She's dangerous," Luther says.
Allison starts scribbling furiously.
WE'RE ALL DANGEROUS. DIEGO THROWS KNIVES.
"Diego can control his powers."
IF I COULD MAKE YOU LEAVE, I WOULD.
Luther sighs quietly. "Allison, please—"
GET OUT.
There's a brief pause where Allison thinks he might not listen, but then, with a sigh and one last sad look, he trudges off. Allison closes the battered door behind him. She's surprised it's still functional.
She returns to Vanya's side.
Vanya's white suit is crinkled and ruffled, and her hair is a tangle of brown, but she smiles faintly in her sleep. Allison swallows thickly. A pang of guilt hits her. Why didn't she try harder? Why did she try to use her powers on Vanya?
Allison slowly realizes that Vanya has never, ever reacted to anything with aggression unless someone was attacking her first. Allison started to use her powers, and Vanya lashed out. Luther and Diego rushed at her, and she struck at them. Everyone went to attack her, and she attacked them in return. Allison can't think of a time when Vanya has ever incited violence for no reason.
Exhaling shakily, Allison reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from her sister's face. Vanya looks so peaceful asleep. The constant weights on her shoulders are absent.
This is my fault.
Reginald Hargreeves ruined everyone's lives, but he screwed over Vanya most of all. And he made Allison an accomplice.
She wants to curse him, but her voice doesn't cooperate.
I'm sorry, she wants to say to Vanya. She picks up her notepad and writes down the words.
Then Vanya coughs. Allison sets down the notepad and touches Vanya's shoulder. She wishes she could verbally reassure her. Vanya's eyes flutter open with difficulty, her gaze glassy and unseeing. Allison feels a wave of relief as she sees that the strange, icy blue color is no longer there. Vanya looks normal, healthy.
Allison squeezes her arm as Vanya blinks slowly, blearily. Vanya's eyes slide over to her, and a weak smile curves her lips. Allison smiles back.
"Allison," Vanya whispers. Her voice is raspy and soft. "Wh-Wha-"
Raising her fingers to her lips, Allison makes a shushing motion. She holds up her notepad for Vanya to read.
Vanya struggles to focus on the words for a moment. Then she shakes her head, forehead crinkling.
"Do-Don't be sor—ry," Vanya manages. She dissolves into a fit of coughing, sinking back into the couch. "My—My fa-fault. I hurt y-you."
I HURT YOU TOO, Allison writes. After a moment, she adds, YAY SISTERS?
Vanya's laugh is barely audible. "Yay si-sisters."
Allison keeps scribbling, eating up all of her pages. Soon, she'll have to find another notepad. Where, she has no idea.
YOU FEELING OKAY?
"... I would be a-a liar if I said y-yes, right?"
YES.
A pause. "My ear h-hurts, and it's like r-ri-ringi-ing." Vanya can barely force the words out now, her stutter resembling Diego's. "I c-can't hear v-ver-ry we-ell."
SORRY. HAD TO STOP YOU BEFORE THEY HURT YOU. Allison pauses. YOU LOST CONTROL.
"I hurt them. And I k-k-ki-" Vanya stops and shuts her eyes. Her quivering voice drops to less than a whisper. "I killed P-Pogo. A-And M-M-Mo-Mom."
Allison bows her head at the memory. She takes Vanya's hand and squeezes, unwilling to let her own tears fall.
YOU WERE ANGRY AND SCARED.
"That's no ex-excuse."
DAD RUINED OUR LIVES. IT'S HIS FAULT YOU NEVER LEARNED TO CONTROL YOUR POWERS.
NOT SAYING YOUR HANDS ARE CLEAN.
BUT WE'RE HERE FOR YOU NOW.
Allison's down to her last few pages. She writes smaller and faster.
WE WON'T LET THIS HAPPEN AGAIN.
Although she's still disoriented and exhausted, Vanya manages to push herself up and wrap Allison in a careful hug.
"I love you," she murmurs.
When she pulls away, Allison uses her last scrap of paper to write, I LOVE YOU TOO. Then she flips back to the top. YAY SISTERS?
Chuckling tiredly as her eyes flutter shut, Vanya agrees, "yay sisters."
Diego deeply regrets his decision to leave Klaus with Five as the former breezes past him by the ruined front door, muttering obscenities to empty air.
"Oh, hello Diego," Klaus chirps. "Looking dashing as ever."
"Why aren't you with Five?"
"That grumpy psycho? Well, in the span of several short seconds, he both insulted me and kicked me out, but what's new?"
"Klaus." Diego gestures with his knife, but Klaus carries on, completely unconcerned.
"I could also tell that he really, really wanted to forcefully shut me up, but he seemed kinda upset about bringing us all here." Klaus pats Diego's arm, smiling lazily. "Go check on him, would you? You've just got that big-brother vibe in your soul." And with that, Klaus saunters off down the scorched and cracked road.
"Where are you going?" Diego calls helplessly after him.
"Hopefully to find some cockroaches. Me and Ben have the munchies."
Diego is so utterly and thoroughly exasperated with Klaus that it takes him a minute to realize that food is a legitimate concern. Every living thing was probably eradicated in the blast. Five did say he survived on bugs.
Five. Shit.
Diego walks by a kicked-puppy-looking Luther (he doesn't ask), then opens the one door that isn't completely broken.
The first thing he notices are the walls. While they are crumbling and burned, they are also covered in chalk marks. Little white equations fill up all the available space, which reminds Diego of the one glimpse he had into Five's room. It looks like the work of a madman.
And maybe that description isn't too far off.
Five stands on the tips of his toes, stretching up to press his little nub of chalk into the wall. How he got it, Diego has no clue. He's hissing through his teeth when Diego walks in, one hand clutching his side.
"Um," Diego says.
"Ah!" Five jolts at his voice and drops his piece of chalk. He narrows his eyes at Diego, but Diego can't even feel bad for scaring him over the shock of actually being able to startle Five. He seems a lot more jumpy than usual, now that Diego is closer.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" Diego asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Shouldn't you be shoving your foot up your ass?"
Diego sighs. He closes the door the best he can and watches as Five scoops up his chalk, resuming his frantic scribbling. The room is sort of dreary, and it's actually kinda sad with the equations everywhere. Five seems to be ignoring him now, whispering under his breath. Diego catches "Delores" and "failure" along with a few varied swear words.
"What are you doing?" Diego tries.
"What does it look like?"
"Stop throwing my words back at me."
Five seems to hesitate, as if about to do just that, and then resolves to just be silent. As he has to jump a bit to reach the next spot of empty wall, his breath catches and his hand flies to his side. He's still wearing his Academy vest and shorts. With the frayed sleeves, dirt smudges, and charred fabric, he looks like a mess, and by the way his hand shakes while he writes, he is.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"The fact that you said 'I'm fine' instead of just 'no' makes me think you aren't fine." Diego crosses his arms as Five glances back at him, almost snarling, before whirling around and focusing on his calculations. "Aren't you tired? I mean, after literally sending us all into the future."
"Don't remind me."
"Look, it was just a mistake, we-"
Five spins on his heel and hurls the piece of chalk as hard as he can, right at Diego. Thankfully, Diego has fast enough reflexes to curve the chalk right before it smacks him in the forehead, sending it into the nearest wall with a puff white dust.
"It wasn't 'just a mistake'," Five hisses. His hands curl into fists at his sides. "It was my failure. I ruin this time travel thing every time I try. The first time, I got trapped for 45 years in this hell, then I ended up reverting to my thirteen-year-old self, and now I've completely screwed up my aim. I don't even know how the hell I mixed up the past and the future!" He's panting heavily by the end of his rant. His hair sticks up in all directions, and coupled with his ruffled appearance, he looks every bit the teenager his body is.
"Cut yourself some slack," Diego says. "You were thirteen the first time, and you had five passengers with you this time. It's perfectly reasonable to-"
"Don't you get it?" Five snaps. "I can't-" He sucks in a shaky breath, his composure cracking. It's fascinating to watch how his bitter, jaded front crumbles to make way for a broken, vulnerable Five that is unrecognizable to Diego.
"What?"
"I can't let you go through what I did." Five grips his chalk tightly, equations forgotten. "I have to find a way to fix this, or else I'll never... I'll never be able to live with myself." Then, right before Diego's eyes, his hard mask slides right back into place and he raises the chalk, ready to continue his calculations.
"Five, you used a lot of energy getting us here," Diego says quietly. He rises to his feet and walks over to Five, reaching for the chalk. "You need to be resting. When you're feeling better, you can get back to... whatever this is."
Five pauses for the briefest of moments. "No. The sooner I get to work, the better. I need the right equations for time travel."
"You can't travel across the room, much less through time," Diego points out.
"Of course I can." To demonstrate, Five vanishes in a pop of blue, appears on the other side of the room, and promptly collapses. Diego catches him and lays him down on the bed.
"Idiot," Diego mutters. Guess he's going to have to stay here in case Five decides to get up when he's not ready. As Diego looks him over, he notices Five's hand unconsciously gripping his side. Diego gently pushes up his shirt.
His skin is flushed and inflamed, with a piece of shrapnel embedded in his side. It looks painful. Diego wonders how Five was even walking properly.
"Idiot," Diego repeats, shaking his head.
Time to find out if Klaus found anything useful on his Apocalypse scavenger hunt.