27 (I).
"Mister Hargreeves? Mister Hargreeves!".
Camera flashes illuminated the private entrance of the Theatre like small lightnings, accompanied by loud clicks that almost disturbed the rapid fire-exchange of questions and answers between press and interviewees.
"Was it really an idea of yours, to set up a benefit concert and raise funds for the families of the victims?" asked a woman from the press, pointing her microphone toward the monocled man and his formation of impeccably dressed kids.
"Of course! Me and other gentlemen of the city saw fit to organize this event to collect offers for the destitute, with the help of the best young artists this outstanding school can provide!".
"Many controversies have been made about it" countered another journalist "There are those who say that the families of the victims don't need compensation but rather that the tragedy never happened in the first place. What would you…".
"I understand the anguish of those families, my own sons and daughter faced that inferno, trying to save the workers. I personally ran the risk of having to bury my beloved family".
"How could it be the same, Sir?!" asked a woman, scandalized, and after giving her a chilling look Hargreeves instantly stopped paying her attention, turning his gaze on someone else.
"Are the Umbrella Kids alright, now, Sir?" asked a young woman, to then directly address the teens. "Are you alright, Kids?". The Kids smiled their most dazzling smiles and straightened their backs, some nodding at her but not daring to answer. They knew better.
"They're perfectly fine, as you all can see" their father interposed himself between them and the interviewer, gesturing to his offspring lined up behind him with pride and self-complacency. "Resilient and strong, ready to defend the city and the world from any new danger may arise!".
"They couldn't save the seven workers of the factory, though" said unexpectedly a woman who was no longer holding up her microphone, embittered.
Instantly, the crowd of journalists around her went quiet. They were probably all waiting to see what Sir Hargreeves would say. And they didn't have to wait long: the distinguished, stern man turned completely toward the woman who had publicly challenged him and exhaled loudly, like he was finally able to take off his shoulders some unbearable burden.
"My Kids, or me for what matters, cannot oppose to death" he said with far less pomp than his usual: he suddenly looked tormented by the urgency to prove his point. The Kids, further back, looked ashen and uneasy, clearly still feeling the guilt very strongly.
"Those men were already dying when my sons and daughter found them, and all they could do was to offer some comfort and keep them company until the end, at the cost of their own safety. In all regards, they did everything possible and even the impossible for those men. As ascertained by the police and what they managed to report from the statements of the firefighters and from the ruins".
A slight hum raised then from the group of journalists; the woman who had pointed out the Academy's failure lowered her gaze, and from the haunch of her shoulders it became evident that she had not intended to cause problems, just to make sure that no speculations had been made about the deaths of innocents.§
"That's what the Academy was founded for, after all, uh?" she asked. "'Ut Malum Pluvia', when the evil rains" she quoted and translated the Academy's motto. "Whatever kind of evil it may be, even a horrible, wrongful and lonely death".
"Yes" answered firmly Sir Hargreeves, "Whatever kind of evil it may be". And then making some hasty excuses, he was imperiously ushering his sons and daughter in the Theatre, and the time for press and flashlights was over.
.oO°Oo.
"Wow, we all really do look the same!". At Myery's comment, four different pair of eyes drifted down to look at four identical gowns.
"Speak for yourself, I don't look like a lampshade" muttered Diana, slightly pale while running a hand up and down one of her thighs to watch the blue velvet change its shade. Myery's smile looked like a grimace.
"At least they let our arms free…" considered Lear, looking at her naked arms like she really was impressed by them. "Playing two hours with long sleeves would have been a feat, even without the suffocating heat from the lights!".
"You all look heavenly, dears!" chirped the theatre course's seamstress, passing by; the girls falsely smiled at her, and then insulted her under their breaths as soon as she went away.
"Yeah, my arse!".
"We look like Dementors, with these dark cloaks on. Does she think Dementors look cute?".
"I don't know, let's set up a date for her with one of them…".
"A date? For who?" asked the seamstress, passing like a whirlwind again. Lear made to say something - probably the truth -, but Myery promptly slapped a hand on her mouth.
"A friend! It's a secret!" she said hastily, and then gave her back to the over-enthusiastic woman to shoo her away. "Hey dimwits, now focus!" the red-haired girl snapped her fingers in front of her friends to gain their complete attention.
"On what?" spat Lear testily.
"Where's Marben?".
"What do you mean, she's ri…". Turning on her side, Lear faced the void.
"She was right there. A moment ago" retorted Diana, worriedly. But before they even had the readiness to start looking for their friend, the seamstress's voice made its way through the chattering of the dressing rooms and reached their ears.
"…look unwell. Are you nervous, dear?".
Seated in a secluded corner, looking like a caged animal, Marben tormented her hands under the scrutiny of the seamstress. She nodded looking nervously around, but didn't utter a word otherwise.
"Is your dress bothering you? I could give it a little fix, if you want…".
"No, it's not…" the blonde girl bit her lips exhaling loudly, clearly restraining herself. "I just…need a moment".
"It's alright, Miss Pittman, we got this" blandished Myery coming to the rescue of her trembling cousin; the seamstress looked dumbfounded, but the red-haired girl didn't acknowledge it. "My cousin's always jumpy before an exhibition. She just needs not to think about her responsibility for a few minutes".
"Are you sure she's okay? You too, dears, you all look a bit…pale, worn…" said Miss Pittman letting her eyes travel to each of the four girls' faces, in a worried tone; she extended a hand toward Lear's cheek, but the girl promptly grasped it into hers and patted it.
"I'm afraid it's just stress and a severe case of British complexion, dear Miss" the girl told the seamstress with a condescending smile. "Oh, I think I heard Sylvia having some problems with her dress' zip…like…kinda ripping it…". In the bat of an eyelash, Miss Pittman went from worried to outraged, and then with one last look at the four girls, was gone.
"Oh, thank god!" exhaled Lear, and even Diana let out a sigh of relief. Myery, instead, immediately crouched in front of Marben, searching for her eyes.
"Hey…hey, look at me. It's not for the concert, isn't it?". Marben's eyes were two pools of fear and repulsion when they met her cousin's.
"It's Arsegreeves". All at once, the other three girls became perturbed too. "That monster is sniffing at us like a bloodhound, he still doesn't know what he's looking for, but he' knows he's close…and if before he was only spying on me, now he also spies on you, and it's all my fault, you got in the way to help me!".
"Dear…" whispered Myery; on the background, Lear's shoulders sagged, while Diana leaned forward to caress Marben's cold cheek.
"Whatever I do he's always watching, I know. He's everywhere. Five told me his father experiments on them as if they were lab rats, and now I've got to go on that fucking stage and be near to him, even shake his hand! What if I do something, anything, and he decides I'm the first of his next class of victims? What if I put all of you in danger?".
Marben's voice was getting loud, even if choked, and she looked on the verge of a panic attack; although the other girls were scared too by the imposing, menacing figure of the Monocle, they hastened to reassure her.
"Hey, Marben…look, we're gonna be okay" said Lear, crouching next to Myery and grasping one of Marben's hands. "And you won't be alone, on the stage".
"Yes, Lear's right, he's not going to kidnap you in front of everyone…or whatever. We won't let him! Smile innocently and shake his hand without looking at him, at worst he'll think you're silly" added Diana, with what she hoped was a comforting smile. Marben then lowered her eyes to her lap, where all their hands were reunited, and a tear fell from one of her clear eyes.
"You better stay safe" she croaked "because I swore to Five his father wasn't going to find me interesting in the slightest, and now that things have taken this nasty turn…I can't loose him".
"Does he know what his father is up to?".
"He knows Arsegreeves is keeping an eye on us, but I didn't have the heart to tell him that the madman is chasing me. You should have seen him when I showed him the photocopies and he sensed why his father really wanted us in the exchange. I have never seen him so heartbroken".
Diana, Lear and Myery exchanged a few quick glances. Then Myery looked back to her cousin.
"Don't panic, 'kay?". Marben nodded, already looking slightly better. "And when the monster comes, just remember what your Dad does when he's in no mood to be civil and yet he has to".
Something crossed Marben's face, at the mention of her dear Dad, and just a moment later she was displaying a half smirk, her eyes lit of a new, wicked light.
A/N: Will Hargreeves ever stop being disturbing?
This will be another very long chapter (four parts!). Friday will be the turn of the (in)famous benefit concert!
Aren't you a little curious to know what Marben's dad does when he doesn't want to be appropriate? :)