With his oversized grey sleeves rolled up to his elbows & sunglasses firmly seat in place, Theodore folded his legs beneath him as he took to the air (he didn't even notice the strange looks he was getting from his Ven Allison) and set about (hesitantly) working on melting his way through the industrial padlock which had spent most of its life holding the two panes of wood together. If it weren't for the telltale scratch marks on the edges of the doorway, then Theodore would have assumed that the thing had never been opened (at least in his lifetime); even so, he wasn't exactly willing to stick around to see if the door stuck fast or not.
The white noise in the hallway picked up as Theodore shifted in his seat and readjusted his grip on the lock, mindless of the molten ore drops which were steadily dripping from his already scorched palm and down into the ashen bucket below (it was the one that had been seated next to the dormant fireplace). He didn't particularly want to open the attic door in the first place, let alone go up there, mostly because—just like the shed that adjoined to the cabin in the woods—it was a forbidden place where they had been explicitly told not to go and his parents had to have had a reason for that, right? They wouldn't just label a place bad for no reason, right? That wasn't the only reason, of course, but it was one of the main—more childish—ones. For example, there was the fact that Theodore knew (firsthand) what his doro was capable of and for another, there was this horrid stench that seeped through the cracks in the woods and turned his stomach. Even if the elder Hargreeves had intended to strong-arm him up there, he wasn't going. At least, not without a fight.
THUNK!
"…It's done" Theodore quietly decreed as he turned to his ven in the corner, shaking out his dimming palm in the process. The padlock plopped itself into the bucket beneath him, landing with a quiet oof amongst the cooled ash as he unfolded his legs and dropped to the floor.
"Thank you, Theo" Ven Allison smiled brightly as she bent to gently move the bucket out of the way, before she returned to his side and clapped a thankful hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you go and see if you can't do something about your hands?"
"O-okay" Theodore nodded as he sheepishly dropped his hands from where he had been furiously itching & picking at the already peeling skin. Hopefully there would be something in the bathroom that he could use to stop his hands, or at least prevent them from getting further hurt until he got back to the Umbrella Academy and use the healing rock from Ent's Loric box.
After burning off the forbidden attic's padlock, Theodore drifted upstairs and back towards the selection of bedrooms & bathrooms sat. He'd originally come up this way looking for something that would help with his fried hands, but instead his attention kept getting grabbed by other, more interesting things along the way. Passing by Ven Allison as she trotted up the Murphy attic steps to root around in the previously hidden space, Theodore eventually found himself in the old nursery-turned-storage-room. After spending a couple of seconds shoving his shoulder up against the sticky door, he was able to push the door open far enough that he was able to wriggle through the gap he'd opened up. Once inside,Theodore was met with the overwhelming stench of mold.
"Oh Lore!" He gagged, coughing on the dust that seemed to billow out of the small room as he smothered his nose & mouth in his hand and tried to wave away enough to breathe properly. Once he'd gathered himself (and stuffed his nose into the collar of his hoodie, tying the strings tight enough to form a cotton moustache) Theodore sucked up his courage and stepped further into the room.
The twelve year old was almost overwhelmed by how much crap there was crammed into the small space; he couldn't even see the ceiling! The interior of the garage appeared small and cluttered with trampled boxes and old furniture piled atop of each other in precarious piles that threatened to topple at any moment. A single well-trodden path led from the door and wound through the mess like a twisting hiking track that kept curling back in on itself. Even from where he stood, Theodore could see why the door had creaked and whined on its hinges when he had tried to heave it open even a smidge; because the nursery was practically bulging at the seams with unwanted/untouched crap, like it was a hoarder's wet dream.
Upon closer inspection of the nursery, Theodore found the usual things on might expect to be there. Like an old cradle in the corner and the crib (whose mattress held an assortment of dust-covered boxes) which had seen better days. The walls were lined with a childish wallpaper that only crept a third of the way up the walls and an old mobile hung from the ceiling, that played a haunting melody in tune with a busted up Speak-and-Spell. But there were also other things in the room, like a particularly rusted bicycle frame that jutted out from beneath a pile of faded & magazines and a series of fruit tree saplings that had been shoved into a spot by the door, next to a series of foul-smelling mulch bags and an old shovel or two. It was the kind of things that one would usually find in a shed, but for some reason his doro had left them here, which puzzled Theodore. Unless Doro had been in some sort of rush and just dumped them there in the meantime?
It was an interesting room anyhow, and Theodore found that he was more than happy to waste away the hours exploring it.
There wasn't much that seemed out of place in the Jenkins household, or at least nothing that screamed 'mass-murdering serial killer' If anything, the home seemed like it had been decorated by a woman—Vanya, if Theodore was to be believed—not Harold, like one would assume. Fiddling with the colourful magnetic letters, Diego focused on the orchestral flyer stuck to the refrigerator door which decreed Vanya's next performance to be at the Icarus Theatre in a couple of days time. There were dirty dishes piled in the sink and an old newspaper which had been rolled up & shoved into one corner of the kitchen bench, alongside a series of old-fashioned appliances. An odd choice in the modern era, but other than that, it was just an ordinary house.
"…Guys?" Allison called haltingly from the attic. "You need to see this!"
"Nn!" Diego grunted in acknowledgment as he raced back out of the room and up the stairs as he—and Five—caught wind of the panic tinging at their sisters tone. There was very little which could frighten the woman, so whatever she had found up there must've been bad.
"All of our faces are burnt off" She greeted once everyone had gathered in the little cramped space settled amongst the rafters.
The room was odd. The slanted walls had been wallpapered with clippings, grainy photos & posters of the Umbrella Academy throughout their lives that had been cut out and tacked onto the wall at random spots behind the memorabilia. Which would have been fine if not for the fact that every single one of their faces had been scratched or damaged in some way. None of the figurines had suffered any better because just as Allison had described; their faces melted off and their uniforms had been scorched black.
"Well, that's not creepy!" Diego muttered sarcastically as he peered over Allison's shoulder, "This guy's got some serious issues"
"Wow…!" Allison breathed in disgusted awe as her gaze traversed the section dedicated to Vanya and Theodore alone. "Vanya sure knows how to pick 'em, doesn't she?"
"Yeah…" Five grunted, clutching onto his side as the pain from the bullet wound he received in his escape from the Temps Commission HQ. Even though blood continued to pool in his overalls and pour down his leg, he knew that he just had to hold out a little longer and then when he returned to the academy, he could patch himself up—slap a bandage on it or something in the meantime.
Allison pressed closer to the busy back wall which held the conspiracy map and was wallpapered in a multitude of images, handwritten notes & red string that connected everything. Some pictured the Umbrella Academy as children (cut from magazines & comic books) whilst others showed them as adults; but that wasn't at all. No, the most terrifying ones showed images of Vanya & Theodore—especially in the more recent years—their apartment in the Lower Eastside and various polaroid snapshots of Theodore displaying his powers over the last couple of years.
"How the hell did Harold get all of these…?" Allison breathed, her fingers tracing over a particularly grainy image of Vanya & Theodore in the grocer's. "You don't think he's still watching them, do you? Maybe he knows where Vanya is? Do—do you think he took her?"
"I think that he's batshit crazy and pretty good at being where he shouldn't" Diego replied as Allison's fingers hovered over the recently pinned tickets for Vanya's upcoming concert and the scribbled note scrawled beneath it. "But I don't think he's that stupid"
"Then again…" Five eyed up his father's burnt figurine, recognising the silent 'fuck you' for what it was, with distaste. "Still pretty ballsy"
"Yeah…"
Skirting a particularly crinkly plastic-wrapped piece of furniture, Diego made to move closer to inspect the 'collection' when he seemingly tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the ground. "Ugh!" Diego grunted as he landed awkwardly on his one good arm.
"Graceful" Allison smirked down at her brother, offering him a hand up despite the withering look he sent her."What? Mr PI couldn't avoid a tarp?"
"Shut up" Diego growled without any real heat as he was hauled back to his feet and moved to see just what it was he had fallen over. When he did, he wished that he hadn't. "Guys…? You see that too, right?"
"Do you mean the dead dame on the floor or all the destroyed Umbrella Academy merchandise, or the conspiracy map on the wall?" Five sassed, equally as dumbfounded at finding a prim-looking woman peeking out of several layers of blue tarp.
"Who is she?" Allison asked, peering closer at the delicate asian woman who stared back at them with glassy eyes.
"I think that she might be that Helen Cho…" Diego murmured as he bent as close as he dared to her decaying face.
"Who?"
"Jealous second chair in the St Pluvium Orchestra" Diego hummed in reply as his nose scrunched up at the sickly sweet stench emanating from her. "Or at least, that's how Vanya described her. Guess she didn't just leave like they all thought"
"Not willingly, anyway" Five commented.
"Wonder how Harold got her?" Allison mused with lips pursed in thought.
"Sneak attack most likely"
"Yeah, Helen was pretty handy with her violin" Diego replied as he rose to his feet once more, seemingly done with his inspection. He recalled an instance where one of the other string players had tried hitting on her and how well it had ended for him. Not.
"That, and that's what he did to his father. Remember?"
"Oh yeah, from the file" Allison nodded, recalling the bit that mentioned the murder of his father with a hammer.
THUMP!
"Five!" Diego gasped, rushing to his side as he collapsed to the floor. Allison joined him at his side not too soon after.
"Wha—? Blood?" Allison questioned as she gingerly pushed aside his overalls and pulled up his shirt as much as possible to reveal the weeping bullet wound impressed into his side.
"Jesus, Five…!" Diego breathed as he caught sight of the wound, "Why didn't you say anything?"
"You have to keep going…so…close…" Five slurred senselessly as he lost consciousness.
"Five? Five! Five!" Allison called as she gave his shoulder a small shake and Diego gently patted at his cheek; trying to wake him up. Shoving two fingers underneath his chin, Diego searched for a pulse and didn't relax until he did. It was weak, but it was there.
"He needs help" Diego instructed, looking over at his sister with concern swimming in his eyes. "Now"
"Grab Theodore and let's go" Allison nodded in agreement.