Chronological markers: this scene fits in as a deleted scene from The Umbrella Academy, season 3, episode 10, around 14:30 (after Hargreeves sends his children upstairs, and shortly before Klaus returns from the afterlife).

Suggested soundtrack: Billy Idol - Bitter taste ; Anyma and Chris Avantgarde - Eternity.

-

'I heard a rumor… that the Oblivion Processor fits into place without issue.'

I have only one point of comparison for the torpor that took hold of me when Allison uttered this 'Rumor' in the White Buffalo Suite: Valium. The one I had taken in the other version of 2019 to temporarily silence my powers. I feel the same numbness now, the same bitter taste, the same loss of control.

I have just realized, to my detriment, the extent of her power, with which she can literally bend reality at will. She used the Rumors, but she wouldn't even have needed them. All she has to do is state what she wants to make the fabric of reality yield. And my intuition is that Hargreeves convinced her she needed to use the introduction 'I heard a Rumor' to - somehow - nerf her, because she would have been uncontrollable as a child otherwise.

'I heard a rumor… that the Oblivion Processor fits into place without issue.'

Now, everything is black around me. With a low vibration. Like on standby.

I am this processor. Capable of putting the machine's matter and energy into motion, within space-time.

If this Sigil tattooed on my arm is so meaningful to me, it is because it is the algorithm governing the functioning of Oblivion, the machine I was literally born to operate. A fact that doesn't even shock me, as it feels so natural and obvious. A relief, I should say, because I finally understand my place in this chaos. I still don't know how I was born, but I know what for.

'I heard a rumor… that the Oblivion Processor fits into place without issue.'

I don't think Allison knew that this Rumor would affect me, ot that she understood what I was. Neither she nor her siblings. She knows nothing of the Oblivion machine she agreed to help Hargreeves set in motion, toward his dreamed future. She acted as she always does: 80% out of selfishness, and 20% to 'save' us. Deep down, she kind of loves us, I believe so, just in the twisted way that Hargreeves allowed her to develop.

No, she couldn't have known that by uttering those few words behind her, she would make me material again. That she would prevent me from using my power to escape from the alien hand of the one who was never her father, in any timeline.

He dragged me through the bright tunnel like a limp, docile doll, and my fragmented memory brings me back to only one thing afterward: the moment when he opened the casing of the horseshoe-shaped console in the lobby, which is decidedly not a telephone switchboard. And which, by the way, is definitely not a horseshoe either.

No. This console is shaped like Omega.

'I heard a rumor… that the Oblivion Processor fits into place without issue.'

Sequestering people like us - on the Moon, in bunkers, cubes, Mausoleums - has always been Hargreeves's way.

I want to confront this bastard. I try to make myself intangible or teleport out of this prison where, paradoxically, I feel good. But my attempt fails, for a reason that is obvious to me: this console is a Dyson sphere, designed to contain the my energy.

I am still material - that's the first thing I check - and yet I feel my whole body tremble, like in those fractions of a second before I dematerialize. The machine is trying to make me intangible. It is trying to absorb me. And a painful realization comes to me: it never mattered to Hargreeves whether Chris had a body or not. He would have ended up here anyway, just like me.

'I heard a rumor… that the Oblivion Processor fits into place without issue.'

"Fuck."

Now, I feel it everywhere, making repeated attempts to pair with me. Relentlessly, at regular intervals. It was calling me all along, and my entire being is irresistibly drawn to it.

Yet, I fight against this fusion, painfully, with the feeling of battling against myself. Why, when it would be so easy, so comforting to surrender? I feel weak, numb to the point of sickness. But I know my place was never meant to be inside, and that this console was customized by Hargreeves. I should have been outside. Operating it.

Hargreeves has bent Oblivion to his will. And by doing so, the entire universe.

I resist still, trembling. Yes, around me, everything is black. Vibrating. On standby. Waiting for connection.

I don't know how long I've been here. And I don't know if I can hold on much longer.

-

*Clack!*

Just as Hargreeves had a peephole to communicate with Christopher in his alcove, he suddenly opens a narrow slit at the top of the console, letting a ray of light slip inside. His monocle scrutinizes me for a second, his alien eye as well. He is alone in the lobby, I can tell. But from his seriously serene expression, I can guess that he's managed to send the others off to explore the corridors.

"Let me out, you sick bastard", I growl in a way that doesn't sound like me. Or not anymore.

I feel like a trapped animal, my rebellious and chaotic instincts suddenly heightened. Like in my unpredictable youth. When I was angry at the whole world. Under a fuchsia mohawk, leather, spikes down to my fingertips. When Klaus met me. Before his presence - somehow - changed me.

I think that, by nature, I was meant to be elusive and defiant, for the good of the machine. To limit the chances of people like Hargreeves taking control of me. Unfortunately, he is resourceful. And the fragmentations of the timelines have possibly given him multiple opportunities to perfect his methods.

He observes me inside, his monocle perhaps perceiving that my matter is struggling not to become pure energy.

"You are making excellent progress, Omega", he tells me. "Your fellows as well."

His encouragements slide off me like poison, and I glare at him.

"Where is Klaus?"

I don't know where he is, just as I can't sense anything happening outside the console, but I remember what Hargreeves stated back in the White Buffalo Suite. That he would tell him... that I didn't survive my exploration of Oblivion.

"Unfortunately, he didn't manage to pass through the tunnel in time, just like Luther. How tragic."

Tragic'. That last word crashes against my struggling consciousness like waves on the shores of Baja. Whatever energy I had regained vanishes in an instant, and even my hard stare shatters as I collapse against the console's wall.

I tremble. With rage, with sorrow, with doubt. Because if this bastard lied to Klaus by telling him I had perished, then he could just as easily be deceiving me - cheap Shakespearean tragedy and all - by making us believe the other is gone.

It is terrible for me not to know. But what if he really did it? Hargreeves is capable of it. I've seen him kill Klaus, over and over, in cold blood. He has already gutted Diego in '63. Yes, he would be capable of anything if his plans depended on it. And, without shame, he adds:

"But you have an incredible opportunity, because the way to find him is now very simple. Very simple ~for you~."

I tremble, my teeth clenched with rage. I have ignored his blackmail about the people of Makȟá Zuȟéča, about his deceased wife. So yes, he could really have done it. To convince me to trigger the reset to 'restore' him, along with his dream reality.

"You're a piece of shit."
"Oh, such colorful language, but once again, it only wastes our time. For you, for Klaus, be useful instead and tell me where the 'bells' of the Sigil are, the ones we must now ring."

I know what he means. He is talking about the locations where Oblivion's plug-ins should be placed to activate the machine. The 'slots', I have no better word. If I connected to the system, I would know in an instant, but I still resist, and my gaze remains unwavering.

"Go fuck yourself."

If I still had any saliva left, I would have spat on the crystalline surface of his monocle. But I have reached the limits of what my body can give, literally. And despite myself, I feel my physical form slipping away more and more, giving way to my furious energy.

"Then your fellows will have to keep searching", he says, glancing toward the upper floors, placing his fingers on the small slit, ready to shut it again.
"I'll return to my notes. The answer is probably right under my nose."

*Clack!*

-

The darkness returns, along with isolation. Silence. The hum of the machine, resonating deep into my bones. Oblivion's insatiable pairing attempts, creeping ever further into my nervous system. As if it were merely an extension of the surrounding electronics, and of the mechanics of the universe itself.

More than ever, I tremble, my breath reduced to almost nothing. All the answers are here, within reach, I just need to accept the connection. So, cautiously, I open the tiniest gateway, just enough to let the machine reveal the contours of its interface to me. Just as I once instinctively knew every Merelec TV in Dallas, just as I could repair the bus Priscilla with my eyes closed.

I glimpse the layout of the Hotel. And the positions of those moving within it.

I am walking a fine line, but I visualize it instantly: the Sigil that Hargreeves has been searching for all this time. The starred slots are on the floor of the lobby, where he is pacing unknowingly. Beyond that, I can track every corridor, every room, every hidden door, and pinpoint those who are still searching in vain.

I sense Diego and Lila. Allison and Viktor. Five. Ben and Sloane. They are seven. Only seven. Including one 'universal module': Lila. Yes, she could replace any one of us if they were missing, now that she has assimilated all our powers at least once. Including...

Klaus.

Klaus isn't here. He's nowhere within Oblivion: I scour every corner, but I already know.

Reginald was telling the truth, and my heart shatters in a way that no words can describe. Experience has taught us, at the cost of Granny's and Chris's souls: those taken by the Kugelblitz… do not exist in the afterlife. They are truly lost.

"This is impossible", I whisper in rage, though I don't know if I'm speaking aloud or through energy.

My grief ripples through the system, flooding the machine, distorting the interface: twisting hallways, rearranging floors, scrambling hidden doors. Around me, the energy radiates sorrow and fury. And I repeat, my voice breaking this time:

"Impossible..."

I feel torn in two, as if a part of me is missing. I have often pretended to be unattached, indifferent to love, refusing to acknowledge that it can take many forms. The truth is, Klaus's very existence is embedded in my flesh as much as in my soul. Ever since that day, when we were nineteen, when police custody brought us together.

I have always had doubts about Hargreeves's influence on my bond with him, but now they vanish. Yes: this unbreakable link, Hargreeves carefully let it grow and nurtured it through space-time. Through the trials of our lives, leading up to this moment, where my only way to reunite with him is Oblivion.

Of course, I will do it. I was ready to set the reset in motion anyway, but everything feels different now. Does that make me like Allison, who only wants to bring back Claire and Ray?

I let out a cry inside the console, making the entire system flicker. It is too late to convince the others of the need to act without Hargreeves. I have no way to fight back anymore. This time, I have no backup plan. And already, the machine is winning, climbing up my spine, unraveling my matter into pure energy.

"Shit", I whisper, aware that this might be the last thing I ever say aloud.

Lowering the walls I had built, I close my eyes. I take one last breath, feeling the point of no return.

And I let Oblivion absorb me.

I don't know the true capacity of a human brain. I don't know how much information it can actually process. What I do know is that, right now, data floods me as I merge with the Omega console.

I cannot describe what this pairing with energy feels like: it is the most intense adrenaline rush I have ever known. A sensation both terrifying and sublime, flowing through me as information surges. Data from the lingering imprint of the universe around us, from its remaining laws, from the souls drifting in the Void, from the interwoven timelines that have not yet been taken by the Kugelblitz.

I no longer have a body, but whatever remains of my soul weeps binary tears, like an endless stream of zeros and ones. Hargreeves likely does not realize that he has achieved his goal, but I see him now through the interface, as if he were standing before me.

He hasn't found the switch yet, on the lobby counter. The bell.

He is flipping frantically through his notes, and-

"Problem, Dad?"
"You!"
"You missed me."

I could easily cause another fatal error in the machinery of the Universe.

01001011 01101100 01100001 01110101 01110011

Suddenly, insolently, Klaus's presence flashes into the database, and the first words he speaks to Hargreeves surge through the machine's connections to me, making the console sizzle behind them. Hargreeves's face twists in shock, and his reaction gives him away: he hadn't planned for this. No, he didn't expect it.

"There's only one way into Oblivion. It's not possible."
"And yet, here I am."

Yes, he's here. Klaus wasn't taken by the Kugelblitz.

He wasn't erased in the annihilation of space-time: he found a way to save himself by entering the Void, by passing through the afterlife. Probably by doing what I had so often feared he would do when we were twenty: taking his own life. Saving himself through death. And I am so, so proud of him: unlike Reginald Hargreeves, who, exasperated that his plans are once again crumbling, literally punches him in the face.

Unfortunately - for me - it's too late. Hargreeves's manipulation worked. And now, all I want is to reach Klaus. To make him understand what the man he calls his father has done. To let him know that I am here. Maybe I can do it through the interface: I need to learn quickly, as fast as he did in these past few days. I need to manipulate this machine as an extension of myself. I need to…

*Dong!*

This time, the sound of the gong doesn't just resonate in my ears: it echoes through my energy, as the entire Hotel and Oblivion's interface begin to buzz. The light shifts in the lobby, returning to that unreal yellow.

Hargreeves figured it out.

He has found the switch, he's started the process. The sequence of steps leading to the validation of the plug-ins presence… or, alternatively, the elimination of intruders.

With a single chime, he's also activated the Firewall, released the Guardians. Made my assimilation into Omega irreversible.

He has just set Oblivion into motion.

-

Notes:

This chapter and the next have been circling in my mind since I started this season, and this fic. Writing them felt very strange to me, almost tragic, because I knew that the entire story, from the very beginning, was leading to the convergence of all these elements, and to Rin's role as the processor of the Omega console.

I wanted to shed light on why Reginald Hargreeves chose to leave Klaus behind, despite having no guarantee that the other seven would reach the Sigil alive. To me, this choice was a weak point in the series, but it seems more coherent if Klaus's 'death' was necessary to convince Rin to act as the processor in order to bring him back.

I also explain here the transformations of the Hotel Oblivion - its shifting corridors - through Rin's grief. In the show, I always found it unclear. But I do believe the idea that the Guardians are a test of their powers - like a validation step - is absolutely canon.

Now, what began with the release of the Marigolds must be brought to completion.

And any comments will make my day!