milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It's late afternoon when someone who really looks like he doesn't belong here saunters in from the front door. (It's probably the uniform.) There's surprise on his face at first - who isn't surprised when a bar you've never been to before shows up where your closet should be? - but the expression is soon replaced with a big smile.

There's a blue flash and he's at the bar ordering a cup of coffee, black, and then another flash and he's seated in one of the comfy armchairs by the window. Legs crossed ankle over knee, he sits back and watches the display with an odd curiosity.

This has to be it. The place the workers at the Commission only whisper about.

Number Five has finally arrived at Milliways.

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He shakes his head. "The company isn't important. It's the person who had it blown out of their head. Or taken off their person by my brother." It was noted that Luther's hands weren't bloody.

"It's not a dead end. The person who owned that eye is somehow linked."

Wilford shakes his head. The eye's unwearable, but the kid's really fixating on it.

"So why'd your old man go gathering up a bunch of super babies?"

Sorry, Five. Wilford is properly interested now, and is going into full interrogation mode.

Because it's important!

He shrugs again. "Couldn't have known we had abilities at birth. I expect it was the nature of our birth that got him intrigued."

"Where'd he get his money?" Wilford asks.

He's not sure what he's working toward, but maybe something will get jogged out.

"Hell if I know." What kind of question is that? "Did you go around asking your dad why he has money when you were a kid?"

"He was a lawyer," Wilford says. "Most kids ask a lot of annoying questions when they're growing up."

The last bit doesn't sound like speculation. At all. If anything, Wilford sounds like he wishes it wasn't true.

"My dad was an asshole. We didn't want to know jack shit about him." Except they did in their ways. Not that they'd ever actually ask. "And he wouldn't have answered any of it anyway. He was all training, all the time."

"When did the training start?" Wilford asks.

Another super important relevant question. For realsies.

This is all casual talk for Five. Half these questions were regulars among the press.

"Can't remember a time when we weren't training."

Very curious indeed. He taps his newspaper against his knee a few times, letting that hang in the air for a second.

"But he didn't know you had powers when he took you?"

Sounds to Wilford like he did.

Yeah, it does. Five still disagrees.

"Luther would have been easy to figure out very young. He's extra strong. Then you've got baby Diego throwing things and hitting his mark every time. Me creating portals." It's logical enough to him. "We didn't have to be older than three to find out."

"Lot of coincidence, if you ask me," Wilford says. He doesn't like coincidences.

"In my experience, cult leaders kidnap people because they know they'll be useful. Not because they hope."

And sorry, Five. Your father is absolutely a cult leader.

"We had to be special somehow. There's no other reason for it."

Not a cult. Just a weird fucking alien.

Aliens can lead cults.

"Where'd you find that eye, again?" Wilford asks. The current conversation thread is becoming too linear. Time to switch it up again.

"Luther had it in his cold, dead hand." Yes, let's move on to cheerier topics.

"And where was that?" Wilford asks.

Much cheerier.

"Outside the Academy."

Wilford is getting that look from him again. "What are you getting at?"

"Nothing, yet," Wilford says. "But I do find it very interesting that your main lead came from your brother, outside your..." he waves his hand vaguely, "... Academy."

Their home? Their school? Their compound?

God, he hates these things.

"The Umbrella Academy. It was our home."

Wilford, don't get to thinking Five hasn't considered all this. "It is interesting. It means we tried to stop it, that they were all actually there. It also means we're probably involved."

"And that's when a smart man would walk away," Wilford says. "If you think you're involved, don't involve yourself."

He feels like Five is not the sort to walk away, somehow. Just a hunch.

"I think my family is involved, not myself." It's a distinction he feels needs to be made. "I can't walk away and let it happen again."

"And if not walking away is what causes it?" Wilford asks.

He desperately wants to see how this plays out, but it would be terribly irresponsible of him to not be the voice of reason.

Or something.

Or maybe he's just egging Five on. He's not even sure.

"My involvement is new, yes. Who knows what could happen with my interference. Trust me, I know how this goes. I'm the actual time traveller here." He already fucked up majorly. He's well aware he could do it again.

"I have eight days to stop this. If my family would just shut up for a minute and listen to me, we'd be able to do it."

Wilford laughs, loudly.

"I've met your brother. If the rest are anything like him, good fucking luck. You're all doomed."

That's a good one, Five.

Oh, he's frowning at you Wilford. About the last thing he can take right now is someone laughing at him.

"No, we're fucking not."

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