The foyer of the Meritech Industries was just as drab and dreary as one might've expected of a hospital or doctor's office, particularly with its accents of white, ivory and the occasional mossy pot plant or lamp fixture. It was quiet too, save for the scratching of a pen on paper, the frantic clacking of computer keys, the faint sound of upbeat music playing over (far) too loud headphones and the voice of the receptionist as she occasionally buzzed one of the doctors to come and collect a patient or a file.
Standing in the middle of the foyer so early in the morning, Five stuck out like a sore thumb. Dressed in an odd combination of the Umbrella Academy uniform and a spare change of clothes from his nephew's wardrobe (a polka-dotted sweater tucked into schoolboy shorts), a bandage wrapped tightly around his forearm and a plaster slapped to the back of his neck (where he had been informed a Mogadorian tracking bug—now gone—had buried itself beneath his skin without his knowledge).
At first, Five had wanted to be rid of the damn attire that made him look like a rough 'n tumble type of child, but then a thought had occurred to him. One that had burst to life when the doors of the apartment had swished shut behind him and he'd snuck seamlessly passed the LANE Keepers still stalking the street in the early hours of the morning. Not one of them had so much as glanced his way as he had disappeared up the street, despite the throngs of armed men having been on the search for him in particular. Perhaps. Five had thought as he watched the faceless navy-coloured men become swarmed by inquisitive school children, Perhaps I can use this as a talking point? As a manipulation tactic? Or to gather more information, unnoticed? So the attire had stayed, if only to help further his investigation.
Five absently twirled on his heels as he turned to inspect a particularly fake-looking potted palm tree in the corner of the room as his thoughts turned to earlier that morning. Vanya had been hospitable enough, he supposed, letting him keep the borrowed clothes he wore, feeding him and tending to the injuries that he had more or less induced upon himself. So of course, Five had repaid that kindness by plying her with intrusive questions about the years that he had missed and the new world (the one he could not remember) that he found himself returned to. It wasn't until Theodore had hurried out the door with his neighbourhood friend (the one that had descended from their old donut-eating buddy) to school and Vanya had slipped away to shower before her day began, that Five decided to leave. There was no need to drag the pair further into his mess.
The news about the alien invasion, the superpowers and subsequent aftermath had been…well, it had been hard to swallow. The thing about her—their—connection to the Lorics (the aliens) had thrown him for a loop as well; although it did explain her durability & perseverance against thirteen years of daily carfentanil consumption. Like Vanya had said, if she'd been human, she (and/or Theodore) likely wouldn't be here today. So in some strange, sick way, he was glad that her mysterious (ex)partner had nipped that in the butt so early on.
Five swallowed thickly as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks as his thoughts spiralled; he could still picture the bodies of his deceased siblings in the Apocalypse, clear as day; burnt flesh like blackened bacon, limbs bent akimbo and vacant stares that remained just as glassy as the prosthetic in his pocket, (He hadn't found Vanya that day, although he didn't know if that was a good thing or not). Lithe fingers fiddled with the old glass eyeball that he had not been a day without for the last 58 years and he found himself rubbing a familiar, soothing pattern across the worn surface. There had been three constants in his life in the apocalypse: Dolores, the eye and the mystery of it all.
The glass of the orb had been worn down over the years, by his persistent rubbing & thumbing of the prosthetic and although the serial number on the back had faded with age, he could still recite the little code by heart. Five's fist clenched around the (once) brown-coloured eye as he determinedly blinked back the sour memories of his siblings—of his family—lying dead & decayed amongst the remains of the street. Of their broken bodies and Umbrella Academy tattoos on clear display, or the sickly sweet scent of death that mixed with the smoke that cloyed at his sense and prim heels that clacked against dusty rubble—NO! No, no, no! Focus! Focus…just…just focus on the HERE and NOW. He heaved a deep & shuddering breath as he returned to the clinical foyer of the prosthetics building. Find the owner of the eye, kill him, stop the Apocalypse. Simple.
"…Uh, can I help you?" The derisive tone pulled Five from his stupor, catching his attention immediately. He already knew that he wasn't going to like this man. Spinning to face the owner of the condescending voice, he found himself face-to-face with the uptight doctor in his stereotypical white coat & lanyard that proudly pronounced his name in big shiny letters, and the heart-shaped receptionist over his shoulder who cooed quietly at the sight of him.
"Hm?" Five hummed through thing lips, his narrowed eyes running over these two side characters (because that was all they were, in the grand scheme of things) presented to him.
"Shouldn't you be in school…?" The receptionist murmured, but Five did not deign to reply.
Seemingly finding nothing unusually off about the pair, Five trotted over to them as he plucked the glass eye from his pocket and held it aloft for them to see. "I need to know who this belongs to"
"Where did you get that?" Suspicion heavily laced Doctor Lance Big's tone as he eyed the brown-coloured eye.
"What do you care?" Five retorted, fighting to hold back the smug smirk that threatened to split his face. Inwardly, the time-travelling assassin cursed his young visage as he was well aware that had he been a few years older, he wouldn't have to deal with all of this useless peacocking. Of course, if this man thought he could out petty/smug him, then he was sorely mistaken.
With great difficulty, he swallowed the hiss of irritation that threatened to bubble out and he quirked his lips into, what he hoped, was a convincing enough boyish smile. "I—I found it, at a playground, actually. Uh, must've just…click…popped right out"
"Mm~hm" Lance was having none of his boyish charm, it would seem. Although the receptionist seemed to be lapping it up.
"I just wanna return it to its rightful owner" He smiled charmingly.
"Ooh!" She crooned, "What a thoughtful young man!"
"Yeah, look up that name for me, will ya?" Five loathed that patronisingly condescending tone and he couldn't the little bit of irritation slip loose, colouring his tone.
"Um, I'm sorry, but patient records are strictly confidential" Lance apologised, clearly not meaning any of it as he quite literally looked down his nose at the schoolboy assassin. "That means I can't tell you—"
"—Yeah, I know what it means" Five sneered, cutting off the doctor as he pocketed the eye once more.
"But, I'll tel you what you can do. I'll take that eye off of your hands and return it to the owner" Looking slightly affronted, Lance drew himself up to his full height as he made to reach for the pocket containing the previously offered eye. I'm sure he or she will be very grateful. So, if I can just—"
"—Yeah, you're not touching this eye" Five stubbornly turned away from the doctor, but made sure to keep both of the side characters within his line of sight as he mentally listed off all of the quick exits he could make without raising the LANE alarm.
"Now, you listen here, young man—!"
"—No! You listen to me, asshole!" Five snarled as both of his hands shot out, snatched the pompous man by the bland tie that choked at his jugular and yanked him down to his eye level. Five revelled in the fear that flitted across the doctor's face and it served to calm the fire within him, some. "I've come a long way for this! Through some shit your pea brain couldn't even comprehend, so just give me the information I need and I'll be on my merry way"
"Young man—!" Lance grunted, turning a nice puce colour from both the lack of air, the awkward position he had been forced into and the frustration that had settled into his features at being manhandled by a tween.
"—And if you call me 'young man' one more time, I'll put your head through that damn wall!"
"Oh dear…" The fondness in the receptionist's tone was quickly replaced with a startled wariness as her hand inched towards the company landline that idled nearby. Clearly, she now thought that his 'absence from school' was the result of his quick-fire temper.
"Call…security…" Lance croaked out, twisting just enough for the woman to catch what he had said.
"Yeah" She nodded jerkily as her hand reached for the receiver, shaky fingers slamming against the buttons with unneeded force. Young though Five may have appeared to be, he oozed a level of confidence and danger that concerned both of the adults within his vicinity.
The dial tone rang like an orchestral crescendo in the still foyer, ripping through the precariously tense silence like a hot knife through butter. Five, who had been grounding his teeth together to avoid pulling his lips back into an animalistic snarl which would've likely won him absolutely no favours, narrowed his gaze on the pair, before he shoved the doctor backwards with enough force to send him stumbling over himself. Those dark beady snake eyes of his, trained themselves on the doctor and the receptionist in turn, each daring the other to take further action even as he picked up the sounds of someone—presumably security—answering the frantically made call.
If Five were any more human or had less of a time crunch, then the schoolboy assassin may have found it within himself to show even a smidgen of sympathy towards the two he had just threatened. He might've apologised and spun some sob story about his supposed absence from school, he might've included something about family and then, just to really pull at the heartstrings, he might've really played into the wayward little schoolboy they all thought he was; just enough for this indiscretion to be forgotten or brushed under the rug. But those days of humane interrogation & manipulation had passed him by long ago and now, he was a shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of guy. It was a tactic which had been working well for him, for the last couple of decades. There was a reason he was the best of the best, afterall.
No one moved as predator and prey stared each other down across the foyer. All was still again (save for the rumble of the air conditioning which slightly buffered at the potted plants settled beneath it) and time seemed to drag on into an eternity. And the, ever so slowly, the receptionist cowered, returning the receiver to its cradle. Her hands only shook the slightest amount as white knuckles disappeared back beneath the safety of the desk.
Neither of the adults dared to meet his gaze and somehow (despite not getting what he journeyed there for), Five felt like he had won. A cruel smirk flickered onto his lips as he gave a derisive snort (one eerily familiar to what had started this conversation to begin with) and he spun sharply on his heels as he made his way back to the elevators. His loafers slap-slap-slapped against the linoleum like the sound of gunshots which pierced the atmosphere that blanketed the Meritech foyer.
"You'll be hearing from my father" Five spoke simply, watching how their faces paled into something more ashen-faced, until the doors slid shut, ending the conversation. His disapproving glare and the air of suffocating killing intent that emanated from the schoolboy assassin disappeared in an instant, cut off from the outside world when the metallic doors dinged shut in front of him.
Alright. Five fingered the glass eye in his pocket. New plan.