Three days, twenty three hours, and forty eight minutes before Sententia.
Stealthily Séance crept through the ventilation shafts. Once his allowance had dried up his funds for bribing staff had gone. Goodbye drugs. Without them Shinyview wasn't such a nice place anymore. He'd checked himself in for a good long period of rest and relaxation without his father nosily getting into his business and without ghosts bothering him every five minutes.
Then again there was Harry. The ex-convict had been deemed innocent by the court. The ghost who hung around him and occasionally threw things at him said otherwise. He was named Albert. While Albert made a good friend there were reasons why he wanted all the drugs. Without drugs to distort reality you could hear the screams. He hated high pitched noises.
So he'd gotten around to stealing them behind the staff's backs. In all reality he'd gotten it from their lockers. You'd be surprised what people at a mental hospital and rehabilitation center were taking. That was good though. Séance loved variety, as long as it made him see pretty colors.
It wasn't hard to filch as much as he'd wanted. He'd hid them in the ventilation shafts. Where were they…ah yes. His beautiful hypodermic syringes were there waiting for him.
"Hello my lovelies," he said, "Miss me?"
He slid some under his skin. Several puncture wounds already decorated the underside of his arm. It was a wonder that no one had noticed. Then again, for all of their P. none of the staff was terribly clever. Even that idiot brother of his who had run off when he was ten could outsmart them.
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Sometime in the Stone Age .05 looked around, rather annoyed.
"Too damn far back," he muttered as cave men ran away from him screaming.
He sighed. His old job had paid well, and there had been many perks. For the last several years he had gotten up each morning with a smile on his face. Overall it was probably the best job in the world. So what if he was working with psychopaths? It would've been the same thing at home. So what if they had cut him open the minute they found him?
Actually he wasn't so upset about the cutting up bit. He loved the gift that they had given him. After they had finished he was better then he'd been before. .05 would've liked to have had his permission asked, but sometimes you just had to let things go. They had only gotten one thing wrong. According to their files he had no emotions anymore. .05 did have an emotion; indignation.
At that moment he was feeling a bucket load of indignation. For the love of everything putrid, he had run away from home to avoid being a pawn. Even from an early age he had had a loathing of being used for any cause. He thought that he'd been his own master as he corrected time. Now he found out he was being used as one all over again. Just peachy.
Revenge had been his first thought. First he went and sabotaged the idiots who thought that they could use him. Who shot J.F.K? No one, because he killed them all! Take that you stupid goldfish! He'd have liked to flush that arrogant son of a bitch. How he laughed once he'd done it.
After he finished he decided to fulfill his original mission; saving the world from his vision of destruction. It had been an educational experience, walking around a decimated world. Several things had caught his eye. One of them was the incredibly large amounts of spaceships crashed haphazardly about with banners on them that said "Beat 'em Sentinels!" or "Viva la Sentenia!" Even more disturbing he'd seen a "Go Umbrella Academy!"
All of those had yielded very little information though. He'd been adrift trying to find answers for years. In his desperation .05 had read Extra Ordinary fifteen times. After a year he had found what he had been looking for. It was a bit of a newspaper article dated three days before what he figured was the end.
He looked at the clipping he had brought with him. On it there was a picture of what he assumed were his brothers and sister fighting figures mostly obscured by dark shadows. The headline was; NEW VILLANS OR EMERGING THREAT? It yielded no new clues as the rest of the paper had been blown away by whatever had destroyed the world in the end. Shrugging at it he tucked it back into his vest. Then he prepared for another jump.
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"Everyone ready?" asked Reaper as he sharpened a curved blade.
"Born ready," Arkady answered, "The question is, should we bring Cat?"
There was silence for a minute.
"No," Reaper said quietly, "We'll leave Cat behind. Helene should stay with her, make sure she doesn't try to sneak anymore."
Both of the brothers looked over to her. She was lying on the couch, trying to catch invisible butterflies. Helene sat by her and shook her head from time to time.
"Athena?" Reaper called.
"At your service," Athena said as she walked into the room.
Looking at Cat she clicked her tongue.
"We have to get those drugs away from her."
"I'm doing the best I can!" Helene snapped.
"We're not blaming you," Reaper stated, "And nor are we blaming her. It's better if Cat wasn't on this one. She never had the stomach to do what needs to be done."
Smiling Cat turned around and laughed;
"They're dreadfully fond of beheading people here; the great wonder is that there's any one left alive!"
"Indeed," Reaper murmured, "A wonder."
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Sir Reginald Hargreeves walked into his study. He brought up a match to his cigar. Cuban import. They were becoming increasingly difficult to get his hands on. Just like his 'children'. He snorted in disgust. At least none of them had called him father for the past ten years or so. Even Ben had stopped after awhile. He'd died two months later so he'd never been able to enjoy the effect though.
Sir Reginald had absolutely no idea where his adopted offspring were. Despite that he wasn't worried at all about getting them together again. Each one of them still had some sort of tie to one or more members. They would come if he could find an excuse, and he was knew he could. If bad came to worse he could always tell them the truth. Sir Reginald took a puff of his cigar. Casually he sat down. Everything was in place exactly like he'd wanted it.
Well, maybe not exactly how he'd wanted it. Across from him hung a portrait. He was in it and Lenore stood beside him, a parasol over one shoulder and looking haughtily disdainful. How long had Lenore been dead? It must've fifteen years. Too long really. He'd been looking forward to a game of Sententia with her as his opponent. All that had been ruined when she'd been murdered.
Oddly enough she'd been rather smug looking about it. To him it had seemed a damnably big miscalculation on her part. Then again Lenore was too clever to let some brats throw a wrench in her plans. Well, if her plans were a little skewed then that was her business. She had certainly done some rather interesting things with her pawns from what he'd read.
He still had the folder in his desk. Sir Reginald still studied it from time to time. Its contents were outdated but they probably still had their use. They still weren't as interesting as his own. Everything was so close to completion. All he had to do was wait for his visit from Georgiana. After that it would begin.
An odd noise came from outside. He looked sharply up. There was a draft from the French doors, indicating that they were now open. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw three shadowy figures, one of them with a scythe. He sighed. At least now he wouldn't have to play without Lenore on the other side of the board. As the one in front closed in his last words were;
"Now we're on a level playing field."