Chapter Two - Here it Comes.
If the taxi driver had been curious or concerned about her chosen destination, he did not show it. Instead, he set the meter with a dutiful click and pulled out into the sparse traffic.
Alina responded as best she could to any small talk offered by the driver, but her heart wasn't in it and she found she only had the energy and patience for short succinct responses.
After a while, the driver gave up with a small shrug and seemed content to allow the remainder of the journey to pass in silence.
Eventually, the orange and white minivan stopped outside a grand looking entrance sandwiched between other buildings that did not appear to have been maintained so well.
In fact, even in the dim light of the street lamps, Alina could see that every entrance or door in the other buildings had been boarded up or blocked.
There were also one or two windows blinkered with yellowing newspapers and a few others which appear to have been bricked up altogether.
Alina alighted from the vehicle with a furrowed brow, slinging her sagging bag over her shoulder as she did so.
She paid the driver and took a few steps towards the building.
She tried to ignore the sudden pounding of her heart and the slight light-headed feeling that came over her when she heard the taxi pull away.
A thought hovered for a moment that perhaps she should have asked him to stay, to wait for her until she was sure that she wouldn't need further transport. After all, there was no guarantee that she would be staying here tonight.
Hell! Judging by the lack of light in the windows of the posh building, it didn't even look as if anyone was in.
Taking a deep breath and gripping the strap of the bag tighter at her shoulder, she pushed through the wrought iron gates and ascended the steps with as much confidence as she could muster. After a deep breath, she rapped the knuckles of her right hand on the ornate glass pane of the front door.
She was not entirely surprised to find the etching of an umbrella symbol on each of the glazed door panels and it did bolster her resolve somewhat; at least she wasn't about to disturb the wrong person.
A few disheartening moments passed with no movement from beyond the door and Alina raised her hand to try again, before stopping herself as she noticed a small, dark figure approaching. The details were difficult to make out beyond the glass etching, but Alina could not help but to feel that the stature of the figure was somewhat unusual.
She stifled a furrowed brow and an open mouth as the door opened to reveal a chimpanzee wearing a burgundy lounge jacket and spectacles. The first word that sprang to Alina's mind was distinguished and she felt this was part owed to the fact that the chimp looked older (with greying hair around his face) and the fact that he was clutching a walking cane in his right hand.
Without trying to appear rude, Alina flicked her eyes beyond the strange animal to see if anyone was behind him (for though she knew little about chimpanzees, she was certain he was male).
Her focus then snapped back to the primate as it spoke in a calm polite manner.
'Good evening. How can I help you?'
Alina, try as she might, could fight back the expression of surprise no longer. She stammered a hello in response, but found she could say nothing more for a few painfully silent moments.
Eventually, the chimpanzee gave something of a smirk, which she was sure was at her detriment, and tried again.
'My name is Pogo. Can I help you with anything?'
Somehow it was less shocking to hear the chimpanzee speak a second time and Alina was able to shake herself out of the strange trance and give a more appropriate answer.
'Yes actually...or at least I hope so…' Alina felt her voice trailing off as she tried her best to organise her thoughts.
She inwardly chided herself for not being more prepared.
Sure, she had read everything she could find regarding Sir Reginald Hargeeves, as soon as she had learned of his infamous pet project from her grandmother, but even reading the words 'the world's most eccentric billionaire' over and over again could not have readied her for the singular peculiarity of the situation in which she currently found herself.
'Is this the Umbrella Academy? The home of Sir Reginald Hargreeves?' She managed eventually.
Pogo gave a nod and, with a smile, offered confirmation, 'It is, on both counts.'
'Would it be possible to speak with him, at all? Please?'
The chimpanzee opened his mouth to reply, but before he could answer another voice rang out around the foyer.
'What about?'
The voice was clipped and authoritative and, she was certain, belonged to the man in question.
Alina's focus all at once shifted to its origin to find a straight-backed elderly (though not outwardly infirm) gentleman standing in an archway to her right. The man wore a smart suit and a monocle and stood with one hand in a jacket pocket and the other clutching a red ledger.
Alina shifted beneath his scrutinising gaze.
'A-about me.' She stammered, 'And my...abilities.'
Alina wasn't exactly sure what she had expected following her offering, but to be met with the stoic and still countenance of the old man bemused her. There was not even so much as a raised eyebrow or a narrowing of the eyes.
She was beginning to think that Sir Reginald had not heard her at all and was about to repeat herself, when sudden movement in the strange man halted her.
Sir Reginald turned his focus to Pogo, gave a small nod and then turned back through the archway disappearing from view.
The brief interaction had left Alina suitably confused, but Pogo seemed to understand what was being asked of him and moved after the old man at a slow and steady pace.
He turned to Alina with a kindly smile, 'This way please.'
Pogo led her through an elegant looking lounge area and past a grand fireplace with a painting of a boy in school uniform hanging above it, before turning down a hallway to the left.
Alina followed him down the dark wood panelled corridor and watched as he came to a stop outside a door which had been left ajar.
Pogo pushed it gently open and stood aside, gesturing that she should enter. She attempted a nod in thanks as she stepped cautiously through the doorway.
Alina found herself in a small antechamber, which seemed to follow suit with the way the rest of the property was decorated (from what she had seen so far, of course). The room had the same dark wood panelling and floor as the hallway from which she had just come, but sported floor to ceiling bookcases along tall available walls.
There was a velveteen chaise longue close to the far wall, but other than this, the only other furniture in the room were two brown leather arm chairs placed either side of a small round table. Both chairs faced the chaise at aesthetic angles.
A few steps further into the peculiar room confirmed what Alina had suspected; Sir Reginald Hargreeves was seated in the chair furthest from her.
She hovered for a moment, wondering what exactly she was supposed to do and beginning to think that maybe she should not have come here at all.
Seeing no other logical option, Alina took a few steps towards the other chair, hesitantly rounding it and lowering herself onto the creaking leather.
She, at first, thought to sit back in the armchair, but vetoed this inwardly, feeling that this would be wrong somehow. Instead, she perched somewhat awkwardly on the edge of the seat and twisted to face Sir Reginald who seemed to have been oblivious to her deliberation. His focus was held by the red ledger which was now open on his lap. He held a pen and was seemingly enthralled with writing something down.
Alina watched him attentively for a few seconds, but when he made no attempt to speak with her and the silence around her began to itch she cleared her throat. This was partly to rid it of the dryness that had been encroaching since she entered and partly to alert the old man that she was in the room with him.
Sir Reginald's piercing gaze flicked upwards at this noise momentarily, but held nothing short of irritation. Alina found herself shrinking beneath it.
However, the noise seemed to have had the desired effect and only a moment later Sir Reginald spoke in the same clipped tone as before.
'Name?'
'Alina Jung.'
'German.' Sir Reginald huffed in a response which threw Alina off guard.
She replied quietly in the affirmative, too preoccupied with trying to remember when she had allowed her accent to slip through, to realise it wasn't a question.
An awkward silence rang out around them, broken only by the faint scratching of pen on paper as Sir Reginald wrote something down in his ledger. Alina was sure, by the amount of time passed before the strange man looked up again, that he had written more than just the word 'german'.
Alina shifted uncomfortably and felt that she should offer more than a mere 'yes'.
'Well, I was born in Germany, yes...but for the past f-'
'And what do you do?'
Taken aback at the sudden interruption Alina furrowed her brow and replied as best she could.
'I was a care worker.' She offered, trying to keep the questioning tone from her voice, all the while wondering why the elderly eccentric would be interested in her work experience in the first place.
This was not, it seemed, the correct answer and was met with a sudden halt in Sir Reginald's scribbling and a momentary screwing up of his eyes in frustration. He snapped his piercing gaze to her and fixed her with a half berating, half contemptuous scowl.
Comprehension dawned, but made Alina want to sink into the chair and disappear.
'Oh! You mean…' She responded, allowing her voice to trail off in the hope it would afford her a precious few seconds to figure out exactly what she was going to say.
Sir Reginald turned his focus back to the book in his lap, pen poised.
'Well...I…'
Kill people.
'I can...well…when I…'
Touch people, they die.
Alina's gaze subconsciously found the wooden floorboards. She closed her eyes to try to find the words she needed, the realisation dawning that she had never actually had to explain her powers before. Not in so many words anyway…
It had been far too easy to use euphemisms: She had 'helped' Pat to die. She had 'assisted' Mr Winters to 'move on'.
True, she had always made sure that the person knew what was about to happen, but had she ever really vocalised what she could do?
Alina was lost in remembrance before sudden movement in her peripherals startled her and bid her turn her gaze to Sir reginald. He snapped the ledger shut in exasperation and addressed her as if she were a mere child and not a 30 year old woman.
'Out with it, girl!'
'Kill people!'
The words slipped unbidden from her lips and she all at once regretted them. She sensed the buzz of irritation dissipate from the man across from her and he fixed her with a searching, curious expression before giving the slightest of satisfied nods. She watched him a moment before allowing herself a breath and closing her eyes in the vain hope that perhaps not being able to see the strange (and somewhat terrifying) man would help her to order her thoughts.
'I can take the life from someone with a touch…'
She found her voice trail off again as the skitter of ballpoint on parchment began again. She tried to ignore it as best she could; even though she wasn't exactly thrilled by the notes Sir Reginald seemed to be compiling about her, she figured that it was a small price to pay if he would allow her to stay a night or two.
'...Not just humans, either...anything with a pulse, really.'
Guilt pricked her heart for a moment and she fought against the encroaching visions of the house she grew up in and the pitted land around it.
Luckily, distraction came in movement from Sir Reginald. The creak of the leather alerted her foremost and she found her eyes open to watch him as he closed the ledger (with greater care and control that he had exhibited previously) and placed it along with the pen on the table between them.
Without saying a word or providing an explanation of his actions, Sir Reginald rose and disappeared from the small room.
Alina waited in silence for what seemed like an age, unable to quell the sense of foreboding that was currently swelling in her heart and squeezing the air from her lungs.
Eventually, Sir Reginald returned, holding something behind his back. He strode past her, careful to keep 'the something' from view and only when he was seated again did he pluck the ledger from the table and replace it swiftly with the hidden thing.
Alina's heart sank as she studied it, fighting back the prickle of tears in her eyes.
On the table between them, in a jam jar with no lid, was a field mouse. Small and scared.
Alina could have put money on the next words Sir Reginald would say, but the prediction didn't mean this made them any less hard to hear.
'Show me.'