1 April 2019
Thankfully, the bowling alley was sparsely populated when they had arrived with the only other lane being occupied by a children's birthday party something which would allow the Hargreeves to chat amongst themselves without fear of being overheard or interrupted. Predictably, Five was the first to arrive at the Superstar Bowling Alley despite being the last to leave. Soon followed by Diego (who knew the backstreets of the city like the back of his hand) and Klaus (who knew all the back-alley shortcuts that wove their way through the city & those that he frequented most often) with Ben & Theodore in tow.
Upon reaching the bowling alley, Klaus awkwardly shuffled over to the lane(s) that Diego had booked where he then dumped Theodore down on a triad of seats next to Five (who had already exchanged his school shoes for a pair of bowling shoes) and was pacing irritably as he waited for his family to turn up. A visible relief seemed to slip from the schoolboy assassin's shoulders when they neared and although he was wary of Theodore now, he & Diego still watched over the boy as Klaus shed his vest and tossed it over Theodore's face in a poor attempt to hide his identity before he disappeared off into the bowels of the bowling alley in search of things to help.
When Klaus did return, he was laden with an armful of seemingly miscellaneous items; a birthday hat, a slice of cake with a candle in it, a first-aid kit, a can of soft drink, a couple of pairs of bowling shoes and a roll of toilet paper. The first-aid kit was self-explanatory as was the birthday cake & hat (if a little odd), but the stocky manager behind the counter did raise a suspicious brow at the fact that Klaus had only exchanged one pair of shoes for the bowling two. But that was easily explained away because Theodore hadn't been wearing any shoes when everything had gone down, only (now a very tattered pair) of rainbow-striped socks; hence the two-to-one shoe exchange.
Plopping himself at the boy's feet, Klaus—motivated by the guilt he felt concerning Vanya's death, but unable to say anything (he still couldn't believe that she was dead or that she had moved on already, if Ben's disbelieving words were anything to go by) quickly got to work with fixing up his wounds with practised and war-scarred hands. Five did little to help him because he was far more worried with his siblings turning up to the bowling alley in one piece. Diego, on the other hand, perched precariously on the edge of his seat with one arm still bound in a sling and the other nervously fiddling with a blade as he watched the environment around him like a coiled spring. Ready to pounce at a moment's notice and it wasn't until the last of their siblings—Luther & Allison—had arrived that he seemingly let go of that tension just a little.
Not too long after Luther and Allison had arrived at the lanes, having exchanged their shoes and picked up a snack from the vending machines, Theodore awoke to their chattering voices.
Wincing as he sat up, Theodore blinked blearily as he easily accepted the slice of birthday cake offered to him after exchanging the rags of his burnt hoodie for Don Klaus' vest which had been slung over his face. He noted with an amused hum that the cake and the birthday hat had been stolen from the birthday party—Kenny's birthday party, in fact—just a couple of lanes down(it was still a nice gesture, though). Theodore knew that he shared a birthday with Kenneth "Kenny" Anderson, the quiet bespectacled boy from the other seventh grade class (because that's what people sharing birthdays and names did; they kept tabs on each other). Sparing a glance over that way he noted with a pang of loneliness that several of his (former) classmates had gathered there to celebrate the boy's birthday; including Helga. What a way to celebrate your own birthday, forgotten-slash-snobbed by your peers! Theodore tried to ignore the bitterness in his heart as he tried to drown his feelings in the stolen cake slice.
Feeling particularly naked without the all-encompassing hoodie to hide him, Theodore noted that a birthday hat which had been strapped to his head & the bowling shoes slotted onto his feet whilst he was out, he had been gifted with a cool can of soft drink (seemingly paid for by the shrapnel change in his dons' collective pockets) which helped to soothe his sore throat and the tightly-bound bandages wrapped around his burns. Although still painfully tender as his body knitted itself back together, Theodore's wounds had already started to lessen thanks to the loralite in his system; healing over at a rate that might seem astronomical in comparison to a human's. This was a feat only known to afflict the Human Garde, what with their human anatomies constantly interacting with the healing properties of the loralite in their systems. But even still, Theodore knew that that didn't mean he would be right as rain by night's end (as evident by the cast still strapped to his arm), it just meant that the usual time frame for such injuries to heal would be shorter.
"…Look" Don Luther sighed, disrupting the awkward silence that had encompassed the Hargreeves since Theodore had tucked his feet under him, sitting cross-legged on the seats as he began to devour the stolen cake slice. "I hate to be the one to say this, but everyone needs to prepare—"
"—For what?" Don Diego demanded, more out of a habit than anything else.
"To do whatever it takes to stop the apocalypse!"
"And that means…?" Theodore rasped, coughing slightly as he did so.
"Um…" Don Luther blinked awkwardly as he shuffled beneath his unblinking stare.
"Tss!" Ven Allison hissed painfully, interjecting as she smacked her notepad in emphasis against Don Luther's chest because she was still unable to properly express her irritation.
"We may not have a choice, Allison!" Don Luther retorted. "Vanya—Harold—they need to be stopped!"
"That's funny, really witty!" Theodore snarled coldly as his gaze narrowed on his largest don. "Cause just the other day you were going on about how there's always a choice. So is yours murder?"
"Yeah, well, what else are we supposed to do?" Don Fën retorted, turning in his seat to face him.
"You would kill your own sous? My vera? My doro?" Theodore growled, ignoring Don Klaus' flinch in the background.
"To save a billion others—"
"—Look" Don Luther interrupted eyeing up Theodore's cold-eyed glare with wariness and hoped to cut things off before they could get out of hand. "Whatever we decide, we need to find them and fast, okay? They could be anywhere"
"Or here" Don Klaus replied, gesturing with the newspaper that he had snatched from the table where he had dropped it earlier. "Look at this"
"That's right!" Don Diego agreed, nodding his head realisation as everyone huddled around Don Klaus and peered over his shoulder to read the paper. There, bright as day, was the quarter-page spread advertising Vera's latest concert at the Icarus Theatre. Only Theodore remained seated where he was as he resolutely glared at his family with betrayal burning in his eyes. "Here concert is tonight. She—"
"—Hello~!" Chirped the bouncy blonde Superstar employees as she sauntered over to the group with a nervous smile and tense shoulders. "I hate to intrude, but my manager says if you're not gonna bowl, you gotta leave"
"Who's turn is it?" Don Diego sighed, tossing a sarcastic smile over his shoulder at the others.
"Oh for the love of—!" Don Luther scoffed as he plucked up a pink bowling bowl from the rack and chucked it aimlessly over his shoulder. Theodore could only watch as the heavy ball bounced like a rubber ball over two lanes before knocking down a strike much to the glee of the kid currently bowling. It did amuse him to know that Don Luther kept his gaze locked on the rotund manager behind the counter.
'SHE'S OUR SISTER!' Ven Allison swung the pad around to face Don Luther, slapping it several times with her pen to catch Don Luther's attention. But he was not to be persuaded from his steadfast stance.
"We're the only ones capable of stopping this!" Don Luther refuted, "We have a responsibility to Dad to at least try!"
"To Dad?!" Don Diego growled incredulously as he practically jumped his brother. "Y'know what? I've just about had enough of your goddamn hero worship! He's dead! Move on—!"
Finally, something we can ACTUALLY agree on! Theodore silently agreed with Don Diego. A'Doro is DEAD! Help Vera! Because she's NOT!…Not yet, anyway…
"—He sacrificed himself—everything—to bring us back together!" Don Luther argued, joining Don Diego on the floor as he jumped to his feet.
"…I'm with Luther, on this one" Don Fën surprisingly agreed with his brother. "We can't give 'em a chance to fight back. There are billions of lives at stake, here and we're passed the point of trying to save just the one"
"Tch!" Theodore scoffed derisively as he slid from his seat and made to leave, angrily stuffing his dirty napkin into his pocket as he went.
"Hey, hey, hey! Where do you think you're going?!" Don Luther snapped, hand held out to stop the boy who stood just out of reach. Standing tall with shoulders set, Don Luther tried to intimidate Theodore into staying; silently impressing into him the importance of their mission. But Theodore had had enough.
"I can't just sit here and listen to you plan my vera's murder!" Theodore snarled menacingly and as he turned to leave again, he paused to double-back. "Y'know you've been going on & on & on about 'family' & 'teamwork' for the last week, but I should have of known that it was just another one of your lies. Vera was right, we should never have come back here in the first place!"
Theodore paused in his tirade, panting & huffing for breath as his scratchy throat roared at him for speaking so much so soon. He did, however, take an almost petty vindictive pleasure in the startled, offended and guilty expressed that were plastered across their faces. "Maybe now you'll be able to pull your heads outta your own damn asses and actually merdaring listen for once in your miserable little lily-livered lives—!"
"—Hey! That was uncalled for—!" Don Fën squawked in offence.
"—But since the world's ending, probably not, right?" Theodore steamrolled on, coldly chuckling as he sneered at them all one last time before storming off. "Best. Birthday. Ever!"
"…Well, that went well" Don Klaus huffed sarcastically.
"Shut up, Klaus!" Don Luther & Don Diego chorused, for once both brothers were in agreement. Although, he wasn't wrong.
"Stupid, bloody, stupid—!" Theodore angrily muttered to himself as he stomped outside, where he paced up and down the pavement outside, clenching & unclenching his hands as he did so. The rage seemed to roll off of him in waves and animalistic growls fell from his lips as be paced like a caged animal. "Who the hell do they think they are?! Murderous fucking idiots who keep swinging their weight around! How were they ever superheroes?! It's no wonder Don Ben died! They don't even give a shit! At least I actually care about my vera! Unlike them!"
"What kind of siblings think that murder is a good plan?!" Theodore swung back around to face one of the long windowpanes that ran the length of the side of the building. In a fit of pure and unadulterated fury that roiled within him, the Garde boy twisted around and slung a white-knuckled punch towards the nearest windowpane which shattered beneath his touch. "They—they're just—MERDARI!"
Sliding down the wall of the nearby telephone booths, Theodore's head buried itself in his bent legs and he fisted angry hands into his curly locks. Over the years, he had found in the most heightened of moments of emotion—particularly during-slash-after a nightmare—his powers had the tendency to go a little haywire. This time was no different. As his hands clenched themselves into his brown curls, the lonely cars lining the street began to rattle on their wheels, the gravel & litter on the ground quickly jumped into the air and a nearby fire hydrant quickly burst to life, showering everything within range in lukewarm water as Theodore fell victim to his emotions. Angry & frustrated tears trickled down his freckled cheeks as it all became too much for the distraught boy to handle alone and the street found itself soon hosting a scene of whirling chaos. Although much more subdued than that of the ones at Saint Gregory's or the Umbrella Academy, there was no denying that some irreparable damage had been done to the street; one that surrounded Theodore like he was the eye of the storm. That was, at least, until his phone begun to buzz and sing in his pocket.
"There is an old tradition,
A game we all can play:
You start by getting liquored up
And sharpening your blade.
You take a shot of whiskey
You grab your knife and pray
And spread apart your fingers,
And this is what you say"
Theodore felt his fist slowly unclenched from his hair at the familiar tune; the one that he had assigned to Don Diego as his ringtone because, although (or in spite of) being childish, he thought it suited the man quite well. The frustrating anger slowly began to ebb as did the panic that had settled in with the loss of control, with the jaunty little tune that echoed from the phone in his pocket as his don tried to get a hold of him. But Theodore, just like his vera, was stubborn to a fault.
"Oh! I have all my fingers,
The knife goes chop! Chop! Chop!
If I miss the space in between,
My fingers will come off!
And if I hit my fingers,
Blood will soon come out.
But all the same, I play this game
'Cause that's what it's all about!"
Rusty Cage's jaunty little tune was an odd kind of thing to consider to be soothing, but Theodore wasn't complaining because it was calming him down some. It didn't matter that the world was going to come to an end or that is ven & dons were plotting to kill his vera (& doro), all that mattered in that moment was that he didn't accidentally blow up another building.
"No, you can't use a pencil!
You cannot use a pen!
The only way is with a knife,
When danger is your friend
And some may call it stupid
Some may call it dumb.
But all the same, we play this game
Because it's so damn fun!"
Letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding, Theodore slowly raised his head as the tornado on the litter-filled street—the one surrounding him—that suddenly fell uselessly to the floor. The events of the day had completely drained the boy and he wanted nothing more than to curl up & forget that it had happened. He wished with all his might that if he went to sleep right now and wake up tomorrow, back in his bed with Vera happily playing her violin in the living room, basking in the sun with Mrs K's cats and laughing with Milton just as he had always done. Theodore wanted so badly for this all to be a bad dream.
"Oh! I have all my fingers,
The knife goes chop! Chop! Chop!
If I miss the spaces in between,
My fingers will come off!
And if I hit my fingers,
The blood will soon come out.
But all the same, I play this game
'Cause that's what it's all about!"
Bent & dented beyond belief, the cars and lamp posts that lined the street creaked and groaned to a stop as Theodore eventually let go of his frustrated tears; frustration that quickly morphed in to grief as he cried harder at the thought that no matter how much he wished for something to be untrue, it would never be. The cold hard truth was thus: his vera had abandoned him, his ven & dons wanted to kill his vera and Theodore was now the most wanted person in the state. Across the way, the fire hydrant continued to spurt water as he cried and tried his best to rein in his devastating Legacies.
"Oh! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop!
I'm picking up the speed,
And if I hit my fingers
Then my hand will start to bleed!"
Eventually, the twelve-now-thirteen year old seemed to cry himself out of tears because when he eventually pulled his head out of his legs, the world seemed so much quieter than it was before. Mercifully, the ringtone had stopped signalling that Don Diego had given up on calling him, but he knew that the man would be out on the streets soon enough and that would mean Theodore would be either dragged along to kill his vera or locked up again just as they had done before.
Clenching and unclenching his hands a couple of times in an attempt to get them to stop shaking, Theodore eventually plucked his phone from his pocket. It was by some miracle that the device had even survived the onslaught ('survived', maybe wasn't the right word because 'busted' might have of been better) at the Umbrella Academy and he was thankful that he had forgotten it on the day that Saint Gregory's had blown up or Meritech Industries had caught alight because he doubted it would be alive by this point, if he had.
Flicking through the most recent messages, Theodore came across a voicemail that stopped his heart cold. It was from his doro; his doro whom he had not heard from in so long and whom he still held a good amount of fear for. With fear clogging his heart, Theodore pressed play to hear the message and for the first time in six-odd years, he heard his doro's voice speaking to him.
"You have one new message; received yesterday at 7.22am"
"This is Theodore Hargreeves, please leave a message after the beep"
BEEP~!
"Teddy, this is your doro. Your vera has a surprise for you!
Meet us at the old Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse; Shed #7.
Oh, and Happy 13th Birthday!"
Greenpoint Terminal Warehouses? Shed Number Seven? Theodore puzzled as his thoughts jumped back to the little slip of paper with the coordinates printed on it. They were the exact same—at least, according to Google Maps—and he could just barely recall the sliver of a memory about his parents meeting at a school party in Brooklyn. It wasn't much, but it was enough. This was the first clue of his vera that he heard all week and he'd be damned if he let it slip away. Mindless of the phone that he dropped in his hurry to leave, Theodore scampered out in the sparse road where he took a running start and leapt into the air, intent on making his way to Greenpoint Terminal Warehouses where his vera would hopefully be waiting. And when he got there, he had some choice words he cared to share.