Umbrella Academy fic: Thicker Than Blood (3/13)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
-o-
The conversation veered to other topics, but Diego had stopped listening. They droned about boring things, pointless things, and Diego was more interested in a second helping of green beans than Five’s mathematical analysis of heating costs in a home of this age and side or Klaus’ relativistic uncertainty about learning to double crochet. He was finished eating before the others, who wasted their time on sharing stories of the moon and telling jokes about behind the scenes drama on set, but as tired and sore as he was, he was not particularly inclined to move.
He allowed himself to be the last one out, which gave him the leeway he needed to shuffle his feet up to his bedroom without any prying eyes. The food had at least perked him up a little, and moving around helped loosen his stiff joints. It still hurt like hell to move and, well, to breathe, but he worked on lengthening his stride and rolled his shoulders to maximize his range of motion for another night out.
Of course, he could take the night off, and he briefly considered it, but when he opened the door, the police scanner practically called to him.
So what if he was stiff and sore?
Priorities.
That was the name of the game as far as Diego was concerned. It had to be about priorities.
Slipping the door shut, he turned the radio on, laid out his gear and hunched close to the window with anxious anticipation.
Then, much to his chagrin, there was a knock at the door.
Diego scowled, turning off the radio just in case. “What? I’m busy!”
“Can I come in?” came the muffled and oblivious reply. It was Five, given how young the voice sounded.
“No,” Diego said. “What part of I’m busy is so hard for you to grasp?”
The door was reinforced and the walls were soundproof. Even so, he could still hear Five’s sigh. “You need to let me in.”
“Are you hurt or bleeding?” Diego asked. “Are you dying? Is the world ending?”
“No.”
“Then get the hell out of here,” Diego snapped. “I’m busy.”
When he growled like that, he liked to think he was pretty intimidating. It had worked with criminals and perps in the past; Diego wasn’t big like Luther or charming like Allison, but he carried himself in a way that made people listen.
There was a whish of the air and a pop. Five appeared in the room quite suddenly, and Diego cursed.
He carried himself in a way that made most people listen.
Five, however, had never been most people.
It was one of the many reasons being around Five had always been so annoying.
That, and his propensity to cheat the system with his ability. Blinking to the front of a race; letting himself into locked rooms without an invitation.
Damn it.
“What the hell?” Diego asked. He glanced around with a frantically furtive look at his gear, which was still laid out on his bed. The knives were easy enough to explain. The mask would raise some questions.
Five shrugged, utterly unbothered. “I told you that I needed to come in.”
“Yeah,” Diego said, stepping away from the bed to draw Five’s attention in the opposite direction. “And I told you no.”
Despite the invective in Diego’s voice, Five was nonplussed. “So?”
“So, stay out.”
“But I’m already in,” Five reasoned in his most infuriating fashion. When you looked at Five, it was hard to believe his story that he was a survivalist and trained assassin who was nearly 60. When you listened to him speak, however, it wasn’t such a stretch.
With a groan, Diego gave in to the inevitable fact that he was going to have a conversation whether he wanted it or not. “What do you want, then?”
At this, Five’s expression eased. He stuck his hands in his pockets, easy as he pleased. “I want to go with you.”
Diego’s mind raced at the implication, and it was all he could do not to look at his mask stowed on top of the bed. Instead, he composed himself with a confidence that Allison was not the only one who could play nice on cue. Acting wasn’t that hard.
“With me where?” he asked. “Because if this is you on a coffee run, I’m going to say no. We stock that shit now. You can go make it yourself.”
Five rolled his eyes. “I don’t want a coffee run,” he said. “I want to go with you on a job.”
The further implication was too much. Diego rejected it immediately. “What?” he asked, hoping his forged incredulity would make up for his lack of words. Acting was mostly about facial expressions, wasn’t it?
Five looked like he thought the effort was cute. “I know you’re doing jobs on the side, jobs you’re trying very hard not to tell the others about.”
Diego huffed. If his cheeks were going red, he could play it as being pissed off. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
By now, however, Five looked downright exasperated. “Please, don’t insult my intelligence,” he said. He withdrew a hand from his pocket and pointed toward the bed that Diego had been trying to distract him from. “Your side jobs. The ones you find on the police radio and the ones you finish with the cute costume.”
Diego’s mouth hung open as he tried to think of another denial. Each one was more outrageous than the last, and they were stupid enough that he doubted they would even fool Luther. Snapping his jaw shut again, he stepped forward. If he could rely on denial, he would settle on threats instead. “Did Ben tell you?” he demanded, looming over Five.
Five looked up at him. Diego was significantly taller, but Five did not appear remotely concerned. “Ben hasn’t told me anything.”
“Then how did you find out?” Diego said.
“Well, it’s not rocket science,” Five returned. He pointed again at the bed. “This is the confirmation, but you’re the one who kept lobbying to get back out there. You’re the one with a history of being a nighttime vigilante or whatever. And suddenly you start sleeping late and showing up with a black eye? It’s a natural deduction.”
Diego’s chest clenched. “It’s my business is what it is,” he said, looming as large as he could now. “And you’re not going to tell anyone.”
Because Five would tell, and he would tell without reservations. He’d be an asshole about it, and Diego was not ready for any of this.
Five understood the threat.
And he dismissed it with a quirk of his eyebrows.
The prick.
“Wait, are you implying some kind of threat?”
Diego glared at him. “Maybe.”
“An actual physical threat?”
“Yes!” Diego said, his voice raising. It wasn’t true, of course. He wasn’t about to kick his brother’s ass, even if he wanted to. The only sibling he’d ever taken a swing at was Luther, and only because Luther was a self righteous asshole who deserved it. Five was an asshole, too, but he wasn’t self righteous. Plus, he was tiny.
And none of that reasoning was important for Five to know.
He knew it anyway. “Even if I did believe you, I feel compelled to remind you that you couldn’t hurt me even if you tried.”
This was not the point, and Diego knew that. But what the hell? It was one thing for Luther, with his stupid ape arms to be all up in his shit, but Five? Tiny Five? “Of course I could,” he responded, increasingly indignant.
Five shook his head, hands back in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “No, you couldn’t.”
Diego scoffed like the ridiculousness of this situation would be self evident. When it wasn’t, he made a face. “You’re tiny without any muscle mass. I could break you in half if I wanted to, and I wouldn’t even need a knife.”
“You wouldn’t even get to your knife,” Five said. “I guarantee I am far more dangerous than you. I have more training and more hands on experience. I mean, outside of our fight with the Commission, have you even killed anyone?”
“What? Yes!” Diego said, face flushing. Was he embarrassed on being called out by a child? Was he embarrassed to be bragging about killing people? Shit, this night was way off track.
“Still, I’ve seen you fight,” Five said with a shake of his head. “You don’t go for the kill. You aim to disarm, and I have the ability to put that aside and make every second of a fight count.”
“Hey, I can fight dirty,” Diego said, pointing at his chest now.
“Biting doesn’t count,” Five replied coolly.
Diego turned away, trying to get ahold of himself and this conversation. He turned back around, shaking his head at Five. “You know, I don’t really think this is something we should be bragging about. Kind of defeats the purpose of trying to save people.”
Five acknowledged that with a nod. “Agreed.”
“Good,” Diego said, and he found himself vaguely flummoxed. “What are we fighting about this for anyway?”
The point. Diego wanted to get to the point so he could get Five out of this bedroom and get back to work. The point was work. Family was a distraction.
“Just that you made the erroneous insinuation that you could keep me quiet in regards to your little secret,” Five explained.
“Because I can--”
Five rolled his eyes. “Please, you’re bigger than I am, but you’re not older. Try listening to your elders for once.”
“If you think I’m going to listen to some pipsqueak in a school uniform, you’ve got another thing coming,” Diego said, his voice taut.
Five sighed. “You know, this was possibly a mistake. I may just go tell Luther.”
He turned to move toward the door, and Diego’s offensive strategy fizzled. Shit, everything fizzled. “Wait -- no,” he said, grabbing Five by the arm.
Five turned back, shrugging. “Well, you going out every night by yourself is a recipe for disaster. So, I have no choice but to stop you if you’re not going to let me come along.”
Diego was ready to object to the idea that he needed protection, but then he lighted upon what Five was actually saying. What he had been trying to say all along. “Wait,” he said, and he cocked his head while he worked it out. “You want to come with me?”
“Sure,” Five said. “A solo job is reckless and stupid, but teamwork has its merits. Plus, I’m bored out of my mind.”
This had been a strange conversation, to say the least. But this comment still made Diego stop. Because, seriously. “Then why did you vote against me? At the family meeting where we talked about starting up the Academy again?”
Diego was abjectly incredulous, but Five just seemed miffed by having to state what must have been obvious to him. “Because you were wrong, mostly.”
“How am I wrong if you’re here demanding to come with me?” he demanded.
Five sighed, clearly struggling for patience. “Because the Umbrella Academy isn’t ready. The others aren’t even close, and putting them in the field prematurely would be disastrous. Either we end up getting one of us killed or we end up killing someone else by accident. Either way, that would ruin the Academy. So, as a team, no way. The Umbrella Academy isn’t close to ready. But you and me? I have a few reservations about your mental state, but you seem capable and are clearly dedicated. I see no reason that a little moonlighting can’t work.”
To be clear, Five wasn’t saying that Diego was right -- Diego knew that -- but it was sort of like Five was saying that Diego was right. Diego would take what he could get, and he eyed his brother appraisingly. Small and quick -- he’d have the element of surprise. And Five was good in combat, if the shootout at Griddy’s and Gimballl Brother’s was any indication. Plus, if Diego let him tag along, then he didn’t have to quit his job.
All things considered, it was acceptable.
“Fine,” he said, marginally mollified. He held up a finger of warning. “But I’m in charge.”
Five’s withering look suggested that he thought this was a laughable assertion. He didn’t laugh, however. Almost indifferently, he shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
Diego nodded, thinking to himself what a nice change of pace it was to hear that.
-o-
With Five manning the police scanner, Diego got changed. It was a bit preemptive, but he had his heart set on going out tonight. And now that he had Five on board, it would be somewhat anticlimactic to not do a job. Something would come up.
He was just adjusting his mask, when Five turned up the volume. “Hey, check this out.”
“Dude, I said not to turn around. I’m changing--”
Five wasn’t paying attention. “Just listen.”
The voice crackled over the radio. Possible robbery at 5443 Highland Street. Security sensors are tripped. No reports from the residents, but the security company wants us to check it out.
Diego frowned. “That doesn’t seem that important.”
“Recognize the address?”
Diego blinked, wishing he did.
“5443 Highland,” he said. “That’s one of Dad’s properties.”
“Wait -- really?” Diego said.
“Yeah, I remember he took us there specifically for weapons training,” Five said. “I remember the address because it was my favorite place to go. Whenever I had the chance, I would blink over there when he thought I was in my room.”
“You snuck out ot play with weapons?” Diego asked.
“Oh, don’t give me that,” Five said. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it.”
Diego shook his head to get back on point. “What does it matter?”
“I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t,” Five said. “But it’s kind of coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” Diego said, worried that this was going to be logic akin to Luther insisting that Dad’s moon mission meant something. Five was better than that -- probably. “But does Dad even still own the place?”
“Highland Street isn’t exactly prime real estate,” Five reminded him. “Who would pay for a security system there?”
“Dad,” Diego said.
The police scanner crackled again. Roger that, we’ll check it out.
Five gave Diego a pointed look.
Diego drew a breath, adjusted his mask one more time and nodded. “Not if we get there first.”
Five grinned.
And what the hell.
It was time to go.
-o-
Diego should have known things weren’t going to go well when Five decided to blink down to the car. He was already buckled in the front seat, looking smug while he waited for Diego to traverse the unfortunate number of stairs down to the ground floor of the mansion. This meant that Diego was winded and Five was in prime condition.
Whatever, Diego reminded himself with a scowl as he slammed the door closed. Five could blink all he wanted; Diego still used more skill.
“I thought you’d be happier,” Five observed as Diego started the engine.
“I have to babysit you when I should be working,” Diego muttered. “How does that make me happy?”
“Because you’re working,” Five said, and Diego was a little relieved that his brother ignored the babysitting jab. “If the job’s worthwhile, then there are no stipulations.”
Diego scowled. “What does it matter to you? I mean, seriously, what’s your deal anyway?”
Five shrugged as Diego put the car into gear. “I told you already. I’m bored. I don’t miss my life as an assassin, but it kept me busy.”
“So, what’s keeping you here?” Diego asked. “Do your own things.”
“Unfortunately, being in the body of a 13 year old makes doing my own thing not as easy as I would want,” Five said. “Besides, it’s never been about what I want.”
“Of course it has,” Diego said, easing the car onto the road. It was late; traffic was light. He pressed the pedal so the engine revved and they picked up speed. “You’ve never given a shit about what the rest of us want.”
“What you want, of course not,” Five said. He nodded. “Aren’t you going to take a left?”
“Straight is faster,” Diego reply, though his mind scrambled as he calculated the veracity of that statement.
Five appeared not to care as he continued. “But what you need has always been my top priority.”
Diego recalculated the distance and determined that Five may be correct, but he had no intention of admitting it. He went a little faster instead to compensate. “That doesn’t mean family’s always right,” he said. “I mean, even family, it has its limits. You don’t give up everything; that’s not what it means.”
“Yes, it does,” Five replied, as if this answer were obvious to him.
Diego navigated a turn, but still managed a side eye at Five to express his skepticism. “That seems unnecessarily extreme.”
“And that’s why you’re trying to leave?” Five volleyed back.
Reeling, Diego wasn’t sure if he was insulted or embarrassed. He gripped the wheel tighter; he drove faster. He could remember the house now. It used to smell like gunpowder. “I’m not trying to leave.”
He took a corner a little faster than necessary. This seemed to prove a point, but Diego wasn’t entirely sure what that point was.
Five looked at him keenly. “But you’re not giving up your side gig.”
The last thing he needed was to be preached at by a murderous, time traveling child. “Well, it’s stupid. Luther needs to get off his high horse and the others need to get their shit together or--”
“Or what?” Five prompted.
Diego looked at him, dumbstruck for a moment.
Five filled in the answer for him. “Or you’ll leave?”
He said it without malice but with plenty of intent. Diego drew his jaw tight and looked back a the road, pressing the pedal a little harder. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”
Settling back in the seat, Five faced forward again. “Hm.”
There was no follow up. Five seemed to be willing to leave it at that, which meant that Diego couldn’t stomach it. He groaned. “What?”
“Oh, nothing really,” Five said. “It’s just disappointing.”
Five wasn’t going to make this easy. None of his siblings ever made shit easy. It was a miracle they ever got anything done -- much less save the world. “What’s disappointing?”
Five frowned a little. “You leaving.”
“You’re not the sentimental type,” Diego said, and this time he took the corner even faster, just because. “So what’s the big deal? We’re all grown ups here.” He gave Five a quick glance. “More or less.”
Five ignored that jab as well. For a 13 year old, he could be annoying mature about things at the most inconvenient times. “As hard as we worked to save the world -- to save each other -- and you’re bored after two months and already want out.”
Now he was starting to sound a tad condescending. That never went over well with Diego. Ever. “Family isn’t a full time job,” Diego pointed out. “So no, I’m not bored of family because you can’t get bored of family. But the Umbrella Academy? I don’t know. Maybe.”
He stopped at a stoplight with a glare. There was no traffic, but he couldn’t bring himself to run the red. He could only think about what Patch would say.
“The family is the Umbrella Academy,” Five retorted. “You can’t really have one without the other.”
“That’s what Dad wanted us to think,” Diego said. “It’s not nearly that simple.”
Five’s brow was furrowed now. “Of course it is. Dad was a bastard, but that didn’t mean he was wrong.”
Diego groaned, tapping his fingers anxiously on the wheel as the light remained stubbornly red. “Oh, not you too,” he moaned. “It’s not that simple at all. Okay? Not at all.”
Mercifully, the light changed, and Diego hit the gas so hard that the car lurched and the tires squealed. If he was going for an effect, it had none. Five remained ever placid in the passenger’s seat. “You’re letting your resentment get the better of you and making things complicated. You have to know your priorities, Diego. That’s the only way you’ll get anywhere in life.”
Diego didn’t spare a scowl at Five. At this point, he was driving a little too recklessly to justify it. “Don’t wax poetic on me, you prick,” he said caustically. “You’re an assassin. You killed people -- innocent people -- for a living. And you want to talk to me about priorities?”
He took another corner faster still. Five braced himself but showed no signs of distress. “Yes, I killed people, but it wasn’t without reason. I had no other means of getting back here, to you, to family. I knew my priorities, and I clung to those priorities viciously. I had to. Family saved my life.”
Reckless driving aside, this did earn a sideways glance from Diego. “How do you figure that?”
“In the apocalypse, there was nothing. You know?” Five said, then he nodded. “You want that next left.”
“No, I -- shit,” Diego said, braking hard to make the turn he actually did want after all. “I guess.”
“Well, I knew how to survive. It wasn’t easy, but it was straightforward enough,” Five said. “But do you know what was hard? What was actually hard about the apocalypse?”
Diego gave a small shrug, careening around a slow moving car. “I don’t know.”
“Find a reason to bother with it,” Five said flatly. “I mean, you’re there at the end of the world. There’s nothing left. No one cares if you live or die. No one cares about anything because there’s nothing left. And there’s no hope of revival, not when you’re the only person left. So why? Why bother surviving at all?”
That was a bleak question, one that Diego hadn’t thought about. Five had never been particularly forthcoming about the details of his time in the apocalypse, and his dark remarks were always glib enough to elicit an eyeroll. Sure, the fact that Five was summarily obsessed with the end of the world was indicative of how much it had messed him up, but that always sounded simple in broad strokes. In the nitty gritty, in the actual details, it sounded a whole lot worse.
Diego was still moving fast; they had to be within two blocks now. “Well, you survive because the alternative is worse,” he said. “Suicide is bad.”
“It doesn’t look so bad in the apocalypse, trust me,” Five said, his tone sardonic. “But I kept thinking about you. The family. The Umbrella Academy. I kept thinking if I could get back, if I could just find a way back, then maybe you didn’t have to die. Maybe I could save you. That was all I focused on. When I wanted to stop, when I wanted to give up, when I ran out of food, when I got sick -- family got me through. Family saved my life.”
Diego turned down the street, and it was looking increasingly familiar now. He had wanted to be excited about field trips as a kid, anything outside the house, but he had come to hate the side ventures as much as anything else. The old man was poison, plain and simple.
That was the only thing that was plain and simple.
“This isn’t the apocalypse, Five,” he said, starting to slow down as he approached their destination.
“All the more reason to appreciate what we have,” Five said.
Pulling up to the curb, Diego finally put the car in park and looked at his brother in earnest. “So you’re really okay with it all then? Just doing family even if that means no Umbrella Academy?”
Five gave him a funny look. “Of course not. The Academy is the whole point.”
Diego frowned, confused now. “So you’re on my side?”
“No, you’re being a reckless, self centered idiot,” Five replied.
“But you just agreed with me!”
“About rebuilding the Academy, obviously. Everyone agrees with that,” he said. “But you’re not rebuilding anything. You’re simply indulging yourself right now.”
That one was harsh, and Diego emotionally recoiled. When hurt, he did the only natural thing: he hurt people back. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”
“Sure, because I’m bored,” Five said. “I told you that.”
Diego turned off the car. “And how is that any different?”
“Because,” Five said, opening the door. He wasn’t smirking, but he was still a smug son of a bitch. “I know my priorities, Diego. And you don’t.”
Diego had a thousand protests but no time to deliver them. All he could do, at this point, was follow.
-o-
Following was not Diego’s thing.
No, especially not when this was his idea.
His job.
Five was just tagging along.
With long strides, it wasn’t hard to outpace Five, and as they came up the walk, he came up with as many pointless observations as he could to feel useful.
“Doesn’t look like the cops made it here yet,” he said, flicking his eyes up and down the street. “The way that call went, it’s not surprising. This hardly seemed like a high priority call.”
Five kept pace neutrally. “A tripped security alarm could happen for a lot of reason.”
It was a logical conclusion, and Diego felt the need to top it. “The force has been stretched thin anyway. Things are just on high alert since the mall attack -- probably before. Is it possible that we messed something up when we travelled through time?”
Following Diego up the walk, Five lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “There could definitely be unintended consequences from averting the apocalypse, but since everyone’s not dead, this still seems like the better option. I could give you a mathematical equation for that, but it seems rather self evident.”
Diego pressed his lips together, climbing up the front steps. It was only now that he allowed himself to soak in the familiarity. He remembered being taught how to fire a gun here and hating every minute of it. It had pissed him off that he couldn’t quite control the trajectory of a bullet. That didn’t mean that their father hadn’t berated him for hours trying to teach him.
Shit, no wonder he hadn’t tried harder to remember this place. It was messed up how sometimes the good guys were the worst ones of all.
“Yeah, unnecessary, smartass,” he said, giving the porch a once-over, looking for the quickest way in. That would be the most likely spot for a break-in, which would allow Diego to see if someone had come before them. It would also be his next target to finish this job. The window on the porch was easily accessible enough. “Security system has definitely been tampered with. It’s offline.”
Five peered around Diego’s arm. “That’s not a good sign.”
“Could just be an animal,” Diego suggested, running his fingers along the untarnished windowsill. There were markes, but nothing more significant than normal wear and tear. “The wind ever.”
Five snorted. “I’ve lived a long time and seen a lot of things. Coincidences are when two people where the same shirt on a single day. Not when buildings with a secret weapons cache from our youth have mysteriously malfunctioning security alarms.”
He had no means to disprove it, and Diego had come here in agreement with Five, so his contrary desire to tell Five he was a moron was probably counterproductive. It did sound satisfying, however. “Well, whatever we do, we need to get it going,” Diego said, and it was nice how deep his voice sounded compared to the still-childish lilt in Five’s. “Cops aren’t here yet, but they will be.”
“Then we go in,” Five said. “I can pop in and have the door open in a jiff.”
Diego made a face.
Five stared at him plaintively. “Unless you sincerely want to jump through a window again. It did look like fun last time, if massively unnecessary.”
“Hey, it did the job, didn’t it?” Diego asked.
“Sure, while attracting attention from the neighborhood, creating a crime scene and leaving physical evidence everywhere,” he said. He gestured toward the window. “But hey, be my guest.”
Again, Five had a point, and Diego’s pride wasn’t a negligible thing, but he wasn’t a complete maniac. He was finally cleared from Patch’s murder, but Beaman wouldn’t be thrilled if Diego was linked to another crime scene. The cop would believe him, Diego was sure of that, but he’d put Patch’s former partner through more than enough.
“Fine,” Diego said, and it was his turn to point at the door. “Get us inside.”
At least, if it was Diego’s order, then this was still ostensibly his job.
And it was, for the record, his job.
Five didn’t seem to care about the distinction. Instead, he popped off the porch in a flash of blue, and Diego breathed heavily out his nose. It had never seemed to be fair, all the dramatic powers of his siblings. Super strength! Mind control! Talking to the dead! Teleportation!
And Diego always fumbled around with spatial manipulation, which always sounded cool until people had him explain it. The fact that he could bend a knife right into your skull wasn’t quite the party trick people were looking for in a superhero.
It was just as well. Diego didn’t even need a super power to kick ass. He trained harder and ultimately performed better. He had refined his entire body and honed his mindset to be the ultimate crime fighting machine. The power were just a nice perk. His powers didn’t define him like it did for the others. That was something Diego had on them -- and always would.
As his thoughts twisted on, the front door opened. Five was framed in the dark entryway, and he jerked his head inside. “Well? You coming?”
Grousing, Diego plodded through, brushing past Five like he’d been the first one in. As determined as he was to be first, it took him several seconds to acclimate his eyes to the dimness. Several more to make several conclusions in rapid succession.
“Someone is definitely living here,” Diego noted, taking in the mismatched and yet updated furniture. Their father had maintained things, but only in his own way, and the recliner and flat screen TV were hardly the old man’s preference.
“Figures,” Five said, stepping lightly to further inspect the room. “The best way to keep a property in order is to have tenants. I doubt we need the extra income, but if we want to keep the house secure--”
“You think Pogo is operating this?” Diego asked as the floor creaked beneath his feet.
“He’s the only one Dad trusted, I think,” Five said. “And we still have given him purview over the finances.”
Diego reflected momentarily that that might be presumptuous of them. Not that he didn’t trust Pogo, but Diego was not great with trust. Full disclosure was always better, and the fact that they now owned a rental property was probably a sign of other things they didn’t know. “Do you think the tenants know their landlord is a talking monkey?”
Five wrinkled his nose. “That seems unnecessarily insulting.”
“What?” Diego said. “It’s a valid question.”
“Look, are we going to investigate here or not?” Five demanded.
“Yes, of course,” Diego snapped back. “Though, for the record, this doesn’t look like a break in.”
“Because no one came for the flat screen, genius,” Five said snidely.
“But no signs of forced entry--”
“If they have the capability to locate a well hidden and long abandoned weapons cache, don’t you think they will have the ability to break in without making a mess?”
Diego blushed at the obvious conclusion. It was dark, though, so Five probably couldn’t tell. “Maybe, but if they’re so good then why trip the sensors at all?”
Five stopped, looking thoughtful. Clearly, it was a point worth considering.
No, Diego wasn’t proud of himself. It was totally expected that he would have keen insight that stumped even the self proclaimed family genius.
“That’s a question we can answer later,” Five said. “Once we make sure that the weapons are secure.”
Diego nodded along. “That’s all well and good, but you’re forgetting -- we don’t know where these weapons are,” he said. “When dad brought us here, he had them out. He never allowed me near when he was getting stuff out.”
“Me neither,” Five said. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t find them.”
Diego was duly skeptical. “You found them?”
“Sure, I was bored.”
“But Dad kept that shit locked,” Diego said.
“Yeah, I could jump through walls, remember?” Five said, and there he was, being smug again.
Perturbed now, Diego gestured forward. “We’re going to have to talk about your lack of respect for other people’s space, not to mention privacy.”
“You worried I’ll read your journal?” Five quipped.
“I don’t have a journal,” Diego said.
“No, just an unsettling collection of sharpened knives and masks.”
“You know, what, just find the weapons,” Diego said. “Or I will kick your ass right here.”
Five didn’t look the least bit intimidated. “We’ll take the slow route,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t want to lose you on your way to kicking my ass.”
Diego gritted his teeth, reminding himself that he believed that fratricide was wrong the whole way down the stairs.
-o-
As much as the memories were coming back to him, Diego had to admit that following Five for the time being was the only option. Diego remembered throwing down with Luther in the backyard. He remembered finding Klaus high in the bathroom. He remembered Allison doing her nails in an upstairs bedroom. He remembered family.
Five apparently had taken the effort as a child to remember floor plans instead. Sure, that made some sense. If you jumped spatially, you probably had to know shit like that, but Diego preferred to think it was attributable to Five being a bastard.
Whatever. Diego didn’t have to be in front to lead anyway. Leadership was a manner of action. It was more a personality trait than an action as far as he was concerned.
And besides, this house was weird. The mansion was weird, too, but this one had, like, hidden doors. Every time Diego thought they had hit a dead end, Five found a secret compartment that opened up into another space until they finally reached a freakish sub-basement with two long, bleak corridors spanning from either direction of the staircase.
There was no obvious sign of a problem, but it was impossible not to feel some trepidation. The fact that Five looked subdued as well made him feel better.
“I’m not sure from here,” Five confessed, keeping his voice low. It still sounded unnaturally loud, reverberating off he silent corridors, illuminated by a row of dingy, naked bulbs. “Dad kept a lot of things, but they moved around a lot. I didn’t think to ask why at the time; I liked the idea that I could use it against him someday, a secret he didn’t want told.”
Five said it ironically, but when Diego looked at him, he seemed sad. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. He thought about Five when he was 13 the first time, when he’d been confident and angry. He thought about a kid who had believed the future held something for him, and how the first declaration he’d made coming back was how everything was shit.
That was family for you, Hargreeves style. All your hopes and dreams would come back to haunt you; all your aspirations would amount to nothing.
It was amazing Diego hadn’t left sooner.
Or that he hadn’t left again.
As much as they’d changed, he wasn’t sure they’d changed that much. Five talked about family like it was a constant in the universe, and maybe he was right. Diego just wasn’t convinced that was a good thing.
“As far as hiding places go, this is pretty secure,” Diego said, nodding down the corridor. “The old bastard was paranoid.”
“Maybe just thorough, if you consider the fact that he knew the apocalypse was coming,” Five suggested.
“Because a weapons cache did him so much good to stop it?” Diego countered pointedly.
“At any rate, we should make sure it’s still secure,” Five said. “I’m sure Pogo does his due diligence.”
“But Pogo’s not here,” Diego concluded. He jerked his head downward. “You check that way but stay close. I’ll move up the hall and you make sure you let me know if you come across anything weird.”
Five took the instruction without complaint, which was good. But before setting off, he gave Diego a serious nod. “Just be careful. If someone is in here, they were able to get in past the security system. Plus, to even find this place means they know something about their target. They could be expecting us.”
That wasn’t bad deduction, but it wasn’t deduction he had made so he rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
Five was not easily placated. “I’m serious,” he said, feet grounded to the spot as if he were determined to make this point. “If we suspect anything is amiss, we should pull back and call for backup.”
What made that comment shitty wasn’t that it was strategic planning made without Diego’s input. It was that it was exactly the kind of thing Patch would say. Damn it, it was probably also the kind of thing Luther would say. Was it weird to think about how those two would get along?
Yes, it was. Too weird.
He shook his head dismissively. “We don’t have backup.”
Five was incredulous. “We have the Umbrella Academy,” he said. “You know, our family.”
He could say it with all the emphasis he wanted, but that didn’t make him right. “There is no Umbrella Academy. If our family gave a shit, they wouldn’t have sat back and done nothing.”
“There’s a difference between saying they aren’t ready for full time crime fighting and being unwilling to help out if we’re in trouble,” Five said.
“But we’re not in trouble,” Diego said. “You’re an assassin. I’m an effective crime fighting machine on my own. I’m fine, but if you feel like you’re not ready, then feel free to leave. You know where the door is.”
It was a little harsh, maybe, but Diego was just making a point. Besides, this was Five. He looked young, but he was more than a prick. He was a straight up psychopath when left to his own devices. The last thing Diego needed to worry about was his not-kid brother curling up in a ball crying because Diego insulted him.
He might need to worry about aid brother trying to murder him, but that was another issue entirely.
Besides, Five didn’t seem particularly murderous that evening. In fact, post-apocalypse, he seemed increasingly rationale. Most of the time. “There’s no way I’m letting you do this alone,” he said. “I’ll stay close.”
Five had a habit of agreeing without completely agreeing, which was annoying, but Diego could see no reason to bicker about it now. Grandstanding aside, they did have limited time before the cops showed up. Beaman was on his side, but breaking and entering was never a good way to keep friendships alive.
“Fine,” he said, starting up the hallway while Five stalked in the other direction.
At the first door, he tested the handle, annoyed but probably not surprised to find it locked. Down the hall, Five had discovered a similar situation, but before Diego could comment, Five disappeared in a flash of blue, circumventing the problem.
In retrospect, it probably would have been easier to do this together, but leaders had to stay to the plan. Diego had said he was fine, and damn it, he was going to be fine.
Fortunately, in addition to his ability to break doors down, he was also pretty good at picking locks. It wasn’t a skill he preferred -- it was a tedious alternative -- but when you were in a house with cops on the way then maybe it was best not to play the part of a robber.
It took him no more than several minutes to jimmy the lock open, and he tried not to think about how far down the other side of the hall Five had been able to get in that time. The thought pissed him off.
At any rate, the first room was mostly empty. The second one down the hall had outdated medical supplies. There was no sign of Five, so he concluded a check of two more rooms before coming to the final door at the end of the hall. This door was reinforced, and the locking mechanism was far more complex. It wouldn’t be easy to open -- assuming, of course, that it would open for Diego at all.
He stole a glance back down the hall and wondered idly if Five would show up and offer to help. Diego wasn’t going to ask, but if he offered…
It wasn’t to be, though. The hallway was empty and quiet.
Diego turned back to the door with a little sigh. If he wasn’t willing to do the hard shit, then he didn’t deserve to wear the mask.
Lockpick in hand, Diego set to the task but when he touched the lock, he found it surprisingly loose.
In fact, upon further inspection, the thing looked impressive but it wasn’t latched. The lock hadn’t been engaged.
Or, Diego logically reminded himself, it had been engaged until someone disengaged it.
Recently.
Possibly during a break in that turned off the security alarm.
Well, shit.
He looked back down the hallway and thought of Five and his suggestion to be careful. He had recommended calling for backup if anything was amiss.
But it was just a door.
It was just an open lock.
And Diego wasn’t in trouble.
Diego was fine.
He needed to prove to Five, to his family, that you didn’t need to be perfect to do this job. You just had to be willing. All their hedging and meandering -- Diego was fed up with waiting. Action; he was a man of action. Straight up.
He didn’t need backup.
He didn’t need family.
Instead, Diego took a deep breath and opened the door.
-o-
The first thing that Diego thought was shit, that’s a lot of weapons.
The second thing that Diego thought was shit, there’s someone already here.
The someone wasn’t Five, for the record. He was taller, more muscular. He was dressed not unlike Diego, although he hadn’t bothered with a mask.
It was unsettling, sure. But what was strange was that the dude was surrounded by weapons and he was making no visible attempt to actually take them. If anything, he seemed to be waiting.
Waiting for what?
Well, how the hell was Diego supposed to know.
And more than that, why the hell would he care.
The knives were in his hands before he realized he’d unsheathed them. He stared the man down, wondering fleeting what Patch would do. He could still remember his training. He’d quit cop school, for the record. He hadn’t flunked. He knew what he was supposed to do. He knew protocol. He just didn’t like it and refused to be bound to it.
But he had to give this guy a chance.
That was fair.
For Patch’s sake.
One chance before Diego put a knife in him.
“Put your hands up,” Diego ordered, standing tense in the doorway. “And I won’t have to hurt you.”
The man smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. “It is quite fortunate you came,” he said, voice lilting with a Mexican accent. “I was worried it might be one of the others.”
That was a vague statement, but Diego could deduce its meaning well enough. Five had suspected all along that this was targeted, and he had postulated that it might even be personal. Therefore, this guy recognizing Diego as a member of the Umbrella Academy made some sense.
It wasn’t good, though.
It meant that this guy had been waiting for them, for him specifically.
He would never admit it to the others, but he thrived on the element of surprise. It was always more useful when your opponent didn’t know you had a super power. It just did.
Diego narrowed his eyes, shoulders tensing. “Do your whole villain speech later, after you’re in police custody,” he said. “This is private property.”
“Indeed,” the man said. “Property that you also have no right to be in at this time of night, but here you are.”
“This is my family’s,” Diego said.
“Ah, yes,” the man mused. He made no threatening moves and it wasn’t readily apparent if he were armed. Maybe that was a moot distinction considering the vast amount of danger weaponry within his grasp. “The things we do for family.”
Diego brought his knives to bare, a little more pointedly. “I told you to shut up,” he said. “Hands in the air.”
For a moment, he thought it might work. He thought maybe this guy who broke into a weapons cache to steal nothing, maybe this guy who talked like he knew Diego, maybe he would roll over and play nice. Maybe Diego would turn another perp over to the cops and maybe he’d get to tell Five smugly that he told him so, he told him this was no big deal.
But they were in a hidden sub-basement in one of Dad’s old buildings. The guy was sitting, literally lounging, on a pack of hand grenades with machine guns stacked behind him. There was a rocket launcher on the far wall. It was his own private apocalypse.
In other words, this wasn’t good.
In fact, Diego might have to say it was bad.
It was a gut impulse, maybe, but Diego had good instincts. That was why he was able to do the job he did.
In short, he should have taken Five’s offer of backup seriously.
It was too late now.
The man smiled still as he stood up, lifting his hands slowly, slowly in the air. “Family,” the man almost cooed. “It’s really just a hell of a thing, don’t you think?”
Diego’s breath caught in his chest.
In a split second, the man kicked out, sending a crate of ammunition crashing to the ground. Diego reacted quickly, and both knives found their mark in either shoulder, but the man barely staggered as the knives fell to the ground, unable to penetrate the skin of the suit the man was wearing. It was reinforced; smart.
And inconvenient. Diego reached for another knife, this time willing to go for the kill, but he was too slow. The man had closed the gap between them, and Diego was forced to throw a punch instead.
It was a glancing blow, and the man recovered without missing a beat. He slammed his fist at Diego, and Diego only just managed to dodge it. While reeling, he could not avoid the follow up kick to his stomach.
With a grunt, he refused to acknowledge as the breath left his body. Instead, he used the downward moment to recoil, and he surged upward, crashing into the man’s body with all the force he could muster. Together, they tumbled back, and they slammed into the stack of hand grenades and Diego could only hope they were sufficiently disarmed. Not even Sir Reginald was enough of a jackass to leave fully armed weaponry sitting idle while renting the place out to an unsuspecting family.
That was a wayward thought. If he didn’t die in short order from an explosion, he would have to deal with this moron first.
Unfortunately, he was a moron who knew a thing or two about hand to hand combat.
Or more than a thing or two.
Blows rained down, and Diego had to fall back to avoid being dazed. He was scrambling now, finding himself at a disadvantage. He just had time to pull a small knife, flicking it quickly. With little time to aim the trajectory, it caught the man in the upper arm.
He cried out but quickly cut it off. Yanking it free, he was on Diego within a second. The second was long enough, however. Diego got his bearings.
He got his shit together.
The knives were helpful, yeah.
But he didn’t need the powers to be a hero.
That wasn’t his thing.
Never was.
His thing was working harder to be better. That was it. His family couldn’t see it yet, but this asshole was about to learn it the hard way.
This time, he came at the guy hard, targeting each blow for the maximum damage. After a good hit to the face, he was able to land three more consecutive punches, two more to the face and one to the gut. He expected the guy to double over so he could finish things off with a knee to the face, but the man surprised him with a bloody grin.
“You are good,” he said, sounding somewhat pleased.
It wasn’t that Diego didn’t appreciate the comment, but he wasn’t in a position to start accepting compliments from people he was trying to take down. “Shut up,” he growled, lashing out.
This time the man dodged the blow, and he caught Diego’s arm, yanking him forward while he was already off balance. His arm was wrenched back and it was all he could do not to yelp as the man increased the torque on his hold.
“I’ve been waiting so long that I was worried I’d built this up too much,” he said, conversationally as he pleased. “But I’m serious. This has been well worth the wait.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Diego gritted out, and he steeled himself, using brute strength to destabilize his opponent and wrench his arm free. He followed up with a kick that sent the man sprawling back, careening into the wall with the rocket launcher.
Diego briefly considered the practical value of a rocket launcher when raising seven super powered children to stop the apocalypse but there was no time for an adequate assessment.
The man righted himself with a sneer. It wasn’t exactly contempt. Excitement, somehow? “Don’t be surprised, Diego,” he said. “You’re not as stealthy as you think.”
At the mention of his name, Diego felt cold fear coalesce into the pit of his stomach, steeling him from the inside out. With a howl of rage, he flung himself forward. It was a brutal, full throttled attack, but to his dismay, it yielded little. With a cackle, the man rolled out of the way and Diego hit the wall. His hand throbbed. His next punch landed, but not well, and with an easy duck, the man regathered himself in the center of the room.
“How the hell do you know who I am?” Diego seethed as he advanced.
The man watched him in anticipation. “I know everything about you,” he said. “More than you know about yourself.”
If he was trying to piss Diego off, it was working. If he wasn’t -- well, then what the hell was he trying to do? Maybe Diego would ask him. After he sliced him open and made him bleed for a bit.
Just to incapacitate, of course.
Of course.
“You’re a freak,” Diego said, nearly spitting the words. He sparred forward and the man flitted away, almost in tandem. “Who the hell are you?”
A glancing blow was followed by another. They parried back and forth, almost like a bit of choreography they’d rehearsed. The man could fight, Diego would give him that. But he was making every effort right now to minimally engage, each move designed to keep Diego at bay.
“You know me, you do,” the man almost gushed. “You should know my work at least. I made it as memorable for you as I could.”
Diego was panting with exertion now, working harder and harder without much success. “What?”
“Please, don’t tell me it wasn’t enough!” the man said, looking hurt as he shied away from the kick of Diego’s boot. “I mean, do I have to go nuclear? Chemical bombs? I really thought mass murder would be sufficient, even for you.”
At this, Diego stopped. His fists were curled, his chest heaving. “Wait,” he said, swallowing hard. “You were behind the mall attack?”
The man lit up, looking positively delighted. “You did notice!”
It was any icy shiver that ran down Diego’s spine. The mall attack was a large domestic incident. This? This was a targeted ploy on the Hargreeves family.
Which meant…
Diego shook his head, muscles going so tense that he could hardly breath. “How did you know about this stash?”
Because the question wasn’t why this guy wanted weapons. Why didn’t matter. He didn’t give a shit about the villain’s posturing. Of course a mass murderer wanted more tools for mass murder. But how had he managed to find them here? When Diego himself hadn’t even known they’d existed and it belonged to his old man?
This only seemed to please the man more. “I told you,” he said. “I know everything about you.”
Well, that was a shitty answer.
Because why the hell did Diego matter if it was about the weapons?
And if it was about Diego, then why the hell were weapons involved?
Shit, he should just throw a knife in the man’s head and be done with it, but something transfixed him, had him frozen on the spot. His time with the Umbrella Academy was making him indecisive again, and it was showing up at the worst possible moments.
But he wanted to know.
Was that so wrong?
Everyone else got their time and space to find out.
That was what he wanted.
That was what he needed.
“What is this about? The mall, here -- what do you want?” Diego asked, demanded, begged. All these things he needed, all these things he wanted, it was suffocating, damn it. He was drowning right here on dry land.
The knife in his hand almost ached, but he could bring his fingers to unclench.
“You’re assuming that the mall was the target,” the man said, and he was smiling. The son of a bitch was smiling.
Shit.
Shit.
“What? You killed all those people, all those innocent people, to what? Get in here? To get my attention?” he asked, incredulous enough to hope he was wrong.
Because he had to be wrong.
Didn’t he?
The smile darkened. “The Umbrella Academy doesn’t appreciate you, Diego, but I do,” he said.
Before Diego could ask more -- before he could unfurl his fingers and throw the damn knife -- there was a noise down the hall. “Diego! Diego! Come quick!”
The man tilted his head toward the door. “You better go.”
Diego shook his head.
From down the hall, Five sounded frantic. “Come now!”
“Little guy isn’t the type to panic, is he?” the man asked.
Diego’s lip curled. Anger, dismay, uncertainty: all of it.
“Where the hell are you?” was the flustered reply down the hall, and Diego could hear the familiar flash as Five popped in and out of space, presumably to start searching the rooms.
“Lives are on the line, innocent lives,” the man said. “You’d never live with yourself if you let people die when you had it in your power to help. That’s what you’re about, isn’t it? Being a hero?”
“Anywhere I go, you’re coming with me, asshole,” Diego said.
The man looked genuinely apologetic. “That’s not how this works. You have to picked. Be the hero and save lives or bring me in.”
“I don’t think so,” Diego said, and he took a menacing step forward, knife raised. “There’s no one here but me and my brother, jackass. And I’m the one holding a knife.”
“That’s because the family is upstairs locked in their own panic room,” the man said. “The door is rigged with your so-called dad’s very own explosives. By my count, you’ve still got five minutes to get them out before they’re go down and take your family’s legacy down with them.”
It could be a lie; it was probably a lie. Bad guys lied. They exaggerated. They played the bluff.
“Diego!” Five called out again. He sounded desperate.
Five didn’t get desperate until shit was going down. At the end of the world, he’d kept his shit together and saved them all. His current reaction meant…
Well, it meant that the smirking man in front of him wasn’t a liar.
He was a bad man, sure.
But he wasn’t lying.
“Diego, I’m not messing around about this!” Five was all but yelling now.
The man stepped closer, close enough that Diego wouldn’t even have to throw the knife. “I know you, Diego. I know the choices you’re going to make just like I knew you’d come tonight. You won’t let me down,” he said, voice dropped almost into a whisper now. “You won’t let your brother down. And you won’t let those innocent people upstairs down either.”
Diego could be a contrary bastard. He had been known to do the opposite of what he was told to do just because. He didn’t like following orders. He didn’t like abiding by rules. And he sure as hell didn’t like being bossed around by self satisfied assholes.
But Diego was a hero, first and foremost.
That was the job.
That was why he was here.
He knew it.
And this man, somehow, knew it, too.
“This isn’t over,” he hissed, before turning for the door at a run.
Calling after him, the man sounded gleeful. “I’m counting on it!”
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
-o-
The conversation veered to other topics, but Diego had stopped listening. They droned about boring things, pointless things, and Diego was more interested in a second helping of green beans than Five’s mathematical analysis of heating costs in a home of this age and side or Klaus’ relativistic uncertainty about learning to double crochet. He was finished eating before the others, who wasted their time on sharing stories of the moon and telling jokes about behind the scenes drama on set, but as tired and sore as he was, he was not particularly inclined to move.
He allowed himself to be the last one out, which gave him the leeway he needed to shuffle his feet up to his bedroom without any prying eyes. The food had at least perked him up a little, and moving around helped loosen his stiff joints. It still hurt like hell to move and, well, to breathe, but he worked on lengthening his stride and rolled his shoulders to maximize his range of motion for another night out.
Of course, he could take the night off, and he briefly considered it, but when he opened the door, the police scanner practically called to him.
So what if he was stiff and sore?
Priorities.
That was the name of the game as far as Diego was concerned. It had to be about priorities.
Slipping the door shut, he turned the radio on, laid out his gear and hunched close to the window with anxious anticipation.
Then, much to his chagrin, there was a knock at the door.
Diego scowled, turning off the radio just in case. “What? I’m busy!”
“Can I come in?” came the muffled and oblivious reply. It was Five, given how young the voice sounded.
“No,” Diego said. “What part of I’m busy is so hard for you to grasp?”
The door was reinforced and the walls were soundproof. Even so, he could still hear Five’s sigh. “You need to let me in.”
“Are you hurt or bleeding?” Diego asked. “Are you dying? Is the world ending?”
“No.”
“Then get the hell out of here,” Diego snapped. “I’m busy.”
When he growled like that, he liked to think he was pretty intimidating. It had worked with criminals and perps in the past; Diego wasn’t big like Luther or charming like Allison, but he carried himself in a way that made people listen.
There was a whish of the air and a pop. Five appeared in the room quite suddenly, and Diego cursed.
He carried himself in a way that made most people listen.
Five, however, had never been most people.
It was one of the many reasons being around Five had always been so annoying.
That, and his propensity to cheat the system with his ability. Blinking to the front of a race; letting himself into locked rooms without an invitation.
Damn it.
“What the hell?” Diego asked. He glanced around with a frantically furtive look at his gear, which was still laid out on his bed. The knives were easy enough to explain. The mask would raise some questions.
Five shrugged, utterly unbothered. “I told you that I needed to come in.”
“Yeah,” Diego said, stepping away from the bed to draw Five’s attention in the opposite direction. “And I told you no.”
Despite the invective in Diego’s voice, Five was nonplussed. “So?”
“So, stay out.”
“But I’m already in,” Five reasoned in his most infuriating fashion. When you looked at Five, it was hard to believe his story that he was a survivalist and trained assassin who was nearly 60. When you listened to him speak, however, it wasn’t such a stretch.
With a groan, Diego gave in to the inevitable fact that he was going to have a conversation whether he wanted it or not. “What do you want, then?”
At this, Five’s expression eased. He stuck his hands in his pockets, easy as he pleased. “I want to go with you.”
Diego’s mind raced at the implication, and it was all he could do not to look at his mask stowed on top of the bed. Instead, he composed himself with a confidence that Allison was not the only one who could play nice on cue. Acting wasn’t that hard.
“With me where?” he asked. “Because if this is you on a coffee run, I’m going to say no. We stock that shit now. You can go make it yourself.”
Five rolled his eyes. “I don’t want a coffee run,” he said. “I want to go with you on a job.”
The further implication was too much. Diego rejected it immediately. “What?” he asked, hoping his forged incredulity would make up for his lack of words. Acting was mostly about facial expressions, wasn’t it?
Five looked like he thought the effort was cute. “I know you’re doing jobs on the side, jobs you’re trying very hard not to tell the others about.”
Diego huffed. If his cheeks were going red, he could play it as being pissed off. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
By now, however, Five looked downright exasperated. “Please, don’t insult my intelligence,” he said. He withdrew a hand from his pocket and pointed toward the bed that Diego had been trying to distract him from. “Your side jobs. The ones you find on the police radio and the ones you finish with the cute costume.”
Diego’s mouth hung open as he tried to think of another denial. Each one was more outrageous than the last, and they were stupid enough that he doubted they would even fool Luther. Snapping his jaw shut again, he stepped forward. If he could rely on denial, he would settle on threats instead. “Did Ben tell you?” he demanded, looming over Five.
Five looked up at him. Diego was significantly taller, but Five did not appear remotely concerned. “Ben hasn’t told me anything.”
“Then how did you find out?” Diego said.
“Well, it’s not rocket science,” Five returned. He pointed again at the bed. “This is the confirmation, but you’re the one who kept lobbying to get back out there. You’re the one with a history of being a nighttime vigilante or whatever. And suddenly you start sleeping late and showing up with a black eye? It’s a natural deduction.”
Diego’s chest clenched. “It’s my business is what it is,” he said, looming as large as he could now. “And you’re not going to tell anyone.”
Because Five would tell, and he would tell without reservations. He’d be an asshole about it, and Diego was not ready for any of this.
Five understood the threat.
And he dismissed it with a quirk of his eyebrows.
The prick.
“Wait, are you implying some kind of threat?”
Diego glared at him. “Maybe.”
“An actual physical threat?”
“Yes!” Diego said, his voice raising. It wasn’t true, of course. He wasn’t about to kick his brother’s ass, even if he wanted to. The only sibling he’d ever taken a swing at was Luther, and only because Luther was a self righteous asshole who deserved it. Five was an asshole, too, but he wasn’t self righteous. Plus, he was tiny.
And none of that reasoning was important for Five to know.
He knew it anyway. “Even if I did believe you, I feel compelled to remind you that you couldn’t hurt me even if you tried.”
This was not the point, and Diego knew that. But what the hell? It was one thing for Luther, with his stupid ape arms to be all up in his shit, but Five? Tiny Five? “Of course I could,” he responded, increasingly indignant.
Five shook his head, hands back in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “No, you couldn’t.”
Diego scoffed like the ridiculousness of this situation would be self evident. When it wasn’t, he made a face. “You’re tiny without any muscle mass. I could break you in half if I wanted to, and I wouldn’t even need a knife.”
“You wouldn’t even get to your knife,” Five said. “I guarantee I am far more dangerous than you. I have more training and more hands on experience. I mean, outside of our fight with the Commission, have you even killed anyone?”
“What? Yes!” Diego said, face flushing. Was he embarrassed on being called out by a child? Was he embarrassed to be bragging about killing people? Shit, this night was way off track.
“Still, I’ve seen you fight,” Five said with a shake of his head. “You don’t go for the kill. You aim to disarm, and I have the ability to put that aside and make every second of a fight count.”
“Hey, I can fight dirty,” Diego said, pointing at his chest now.
“Biting doesn’t count,” Five replied coolly.
Diego turned away, trying to get ahold of himself and this conversation. He turned back around, shaking his head at Five. “You know, I don’t really think this is something we should be bragging about. Kind of defeats the purpose of trying to save people.”
Five acknowledged that with a nod. “Agreed.”
“Good,” Diego said, and he found himself vaguely flummoxed. “What are we fighting about this for anyway?”
The point. Diego wanted to get to the point so he could get Five out of this bedroom and get back to work. The point was work. Family was a distraction.
“Just that you made the erroneous insinuation that you could keep me quiet in regards to your little secret,” Five explained.
“Because I can--”
Five rolled his eyes. “Please, you’re bigger than I am, but you’re not older. Try listening to your elders for once.”
“If you think I’m going to listen to some pipsqueak in a school uniform, you’ve got another thing coming,” Diego said, his voice taut.
Five sighed. “You know, this was possibly a mistake. I may just go tell Luther.”
He turned to move toward the door, and Diego’s offensive strategy fizzled. Shit, everything fizzled. “Wait -- no,” he said, grabbing Five by the arm.
Five turned back, shrugging. “Well, you going out every night by yourself is a recipe for disaster. So, I have no choice but to stop you if you’re not going to let me come along.”
Diego was ready to object to the idea that he needed protection, but then he lighted upon what Five was actually saying. What he had been trying to say all along. “Wait,” he said, and he cocked his head while he worked it out. “You want to come with me?”
“Sure,” Five said. “A solo job is reckless and stupid, but teamwork has its merits. Plus, I’m bored out of my mind.”
This had been a strange conversation, to say the least. But this comment still made Diego stop. Because, seriously. “Then why did you vote against me? At the family meeting where we talked about starting up the Academy again?”
Diego was abjectly incredulous, but Five just seemed miffed by having to state what must have been obvious to him. “Because you were wrong, mostly.”
“How am I wrong if you’re here demanding to come with me?” he demanded.
Five sighed, clearly struggling for patience. “Because the Umbrella Academy isn’t ready. The others aren’t even close, and putting them in the field prematurely would be disastrous. Either we end up getting one of us killed or we end up killing someone else by accident. Either way, that would ruin the Academy. So, as a team, no way. The Umbrella Academy isn’t close to ready. But you and me? I have a few reservations about your mental state, but you seem capable and are clearly dedicated. I see no reason that a little moonlighting can’t work.”
To be clear, Five wasn’t saying that Diego was right -- Diego knew that -- but it was sort of like Five was saying that Diego was right. Diego would take what he could get, and he eyed his brother appraisingly. Small and quick -- he’d have the element of surprise. And Five was good in combat, if the shootout at Griddy’s and Gimballl Brother’s was any indication. Plus, if Diego let him tag along, then he didn’t have to quit his job.
All things considered, it was acceptable.
“Fine,” he said, marginally mollified. He held up a finger of warning. “But I’m in charge.”
Five’s withering look suggested that he thought this was a laughable assertion. He didn’t laugh, however. Almost indifferently, he shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
Diego nodded, thinking to himself what a nice change of pace it was to hear that.
-o-
With Five manning the police scanner, Diego got changed. It was a bit preemptive, but he had his heart set on going out tonight. And now that he had Five on board, it would be somewhat anticlimactic to not do a job. Something would come up.
He was just adjusting his mask, when Five turned up the volume. “Hey, check this out.”
“Dude, I said not to turn around. I’m changing--”
Five wasn’t paying attention. “Just listen.”
The voice crackled over the radio. Possible robbery at 5443 Highland Street. Security sensors are tripped. No reports from the residents, but the security company wants us to check it out.
Diego frowned. “That doesn’t seem that important.”
“Recognize the address?”
Diego blinked, wishing he did.
“5443 Highland,” he said. “That’s one of Dad’s properties.”
“Wait -- really?” Diego said.
“Yeah, I remember he took us there specifically for weapons training,” Five said. “I remember the address because it was my favorite place to go. Whenever I had the chance, I would blink over there when he thought I was in my room.”
“You snuck out ot play with weapons?” Diego asked.
“Oh, don’t give me that,” Five said. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it.”
Diego shook his head to get back on point. “What does it matter?”
“I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t,” Five said. “But it’s kind of coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” Diego said, worried that this was going to be logic akin to Luther insisting that Dad’s moon mission meant something. Five was better than that -- probably. “But does Dad even still own the place?”
“Highland Street isn’t exactly prime real estate,” Five reminded him. “Who would pay for a security system there?”
“Dad,” Diego said.
The police scanner crackled again. Roger that, we’ll check it out.
Five gave Diego a pointed look.
Diego drew a breath, adjusted his mask one more time and nodded. “Not if we get there first.”
Five grinned.
And what the hell.
It was time to go.
-o-
Diego should have known things weren’t going to go well when Five decided to blink down to the car. He was already buckled in the front seat, looking smug while he waited for Diego to traverse the unfortunate number of stairs down to the ground floor of the mansion. This meant that Diego was winded and Five was in prime condition.
Whatever, Diego reminded himself with a scowl as he slammed the door closed. Five could blink all he wanted; Diego still used more skill.
“I thought you’d be happier,” Five observed as Diego started the engine.
“I have to babysit you when I should be working,” Diego muttered. “How does that make me happy?”
“Because you’re working,” Five said, and Diego was a little relieved that his brother ignored the babysitting jab. “If the job’s worthwhile, then there are no stipulations.”
Diego scowled. “What does it matter to you? I mean, seriously, what’s your deal anyway?”
Five shrugged as Diego put the car into gear. “I told you already. I’m bored. I don’t miss my life as an assassin, but it kept me busy.”
“So, what’s keeping you here?” Diego asked. “Do your own things.”
“Unfortunately, being in the body of a 13 year old makes doing my own thing not as easy as I would want,” Five said. “Besides, it’s never been about what I want.”
“Of course it has,” Diego said, easing the car onto the road. It was late; traffic was light. He pressed the pedal so the engine revved and they picked up speed. “You’ve never given a shit about what the rest of us want.”
“What you want, of course not,” Five said. He nodded. “Aren’t you going to take a left?”
“Straight is faster,” Diego reply, though his mind scrambled as he calculated the veracity of that statement.
Five appeared not to care as he continued. “But what you need has always been my top priority.”
Diego recalculated the distance and determined that Five may be correct, but he had no intention of admitting it. He went a little faster instead to compensate. “That doesn’t mean family’s always right,” he said. “I mean, even family, it has its limits. You don’t give up everything; that’s not what it means.”
“Yes, it does,” Five replied, as if this answer were obvious to him.
Diego navigated a turn, but still managed a side eye at Five to express his skepticism. “That seems unnecessarily extreme.”
“And that’s why you’re trying to leave?” Five volleyed back.
Reeling, Diego wasn’t sure if he was insulted or embarrassed. He gripped the wheel tighter; he drove faster. He could remember the house now. It used to smell like gunpowder. “I’m not trying to leave.”
He took a corner a little faster than necessary. This seemed to prove a point, but Diego wasn’t entirely sure what that point was.
Five looked at him keenly. “But you’re not giving up your side gig.”
The last thing he needed was to be preached at by a murderous, time traveling child. “Well, it’s stupid. Luther needs to get off his high horse and the others need to get their shit together or--”
“Or what?” Five prompted.
Diego looked at him, dumbstruck for a moment.
Five filled in the answer for him. “Or you’ll leave?”
He said it without malice but with plenty of intent. Diego drew his jaw tight and looked back a the road, pressing the pedal a little harder. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”
Settling back in the seat, Five faced forward again. “Hm.”
There was no follow up. Five seemed to be willing to leave it at that, which meant that Diego couldn’t stomach it. He groaned. “What?”
“Oh, nothing really,” Five said. “It’s just disappointing.”
Five wasn’t going to make this easy. None of his siblings ever made shit easy. It was a miracle they ever got anything done -- much less save the world. “What’s disappointing?”
Five frowned a little. “You leaving.”
“You’re not the sentimental type,” Diego said, and this time he took the corner even faster, just because. “So what’s the big deal? We’re all grown ups here.” He gave Five a quick glance. “More or less.”
Five ignored that jab as well. For a 13 year old, he could be annoying mature about things at the most inconvenient times. “As hard as we worked to save the world -- to save each other -- and you’re bored after two months and already want out.”
Now he was starting to sound a tad condescending. That never went over well with Diego. Ever. “Family isn’t a full time job,” Diego pointed out. “So no, I’m not bored of family because you can’t get bored of family. But the Umbrella Academy? I don’t know. Maybe.”
He stopped at a stoplight with a glare. There was no traffic, but he couldn’t bring himself to run the red. He could only think about what Patch would say.
“The family is the Umbrella Academy,” Five retorted. “You can’t really have one without the other.”
“That’s what Dad wanted us to think,” Diego said. “It’s not nearly that simple.”
Five’s brow was furrowed now. “Of course it is. Dad was a bastard, but that didn’t mean he was wrong.”
Diego groaned, tapping his fingers anxiously on the wheel as the light remained stubbornly red. “Oh, not you too,” he moaned. “It’s not that simple at all. Okay? Not at all.”
Mercifully, the light changed, and Diego hit the gas so hard that the car lurched and the tires squealed. If he was going for an effect, it had none. Five remained ever placid in the passenger’s seat. “You’re letting your resentment get the better of you and making things complicated. You have to know your priorities, Diego. That’s the only way you’ll get anywhere in life.”
Diego didn’t spare a scowl at Five. At this point, he was driving a little too recklessly to justify it. “Don’t wax poetic on me, you prick,” he said caustically. “You’re an assassin. You killed people -- innocent people -- for a living. And you want to talk to me about priorities?”
He took another corner faster still. Five braced himself but showed no signs of distress. “Yes, I killed people, but it wasn’t without reason. I had no other means of getting back here, to you, to family. I knew my priorities, and I clung to those priorities viciously. I had to. Family saved my life.”
Reckless driving aside, this did earn a sideways glance from Diego. “How do you figure that?”
“In the apocalypse, there was nothing. You know?” Five said, then he nodded. “You want that next left.”
“No, I -- shit,” Diego said, braking hard to make the turn he actually did want after all. “I guess.”
“Well, I knew how to survive. It wasn’t easy, but it was straightforward enough,” Five said. “But do you know what was hard? What was actually hard about the apocalypse?”
Diego gave a small shrug, careening around a slow moving car. “I don’t know.”
“Find a reason to bother with it,” Five said flatly. “I mean, you’re there at the end of the world. There’s nothing left. No one cares if you live or die. No one cares about anything because there’s nothing left. And there’s no hope of revival, not when you’re the only person left. So why? Why bother surviving at all?”
That was a bleak question, one that Diego hadn’t thought about. Five had never been particularly forthcoming about the details of his time in the apocalypse, and his dark remarks were always glib enough to elicit an eyeroll. Sure, the fact that Five was summarily obsessed with the end of the world was indicative of how much it had messed him up, but that always sounded simple in broad strokes. In the nitty gritty, in the actual details, it sounded a whole lot worse.
Diego was still moving fast; they had to be within two blocks now. “Well, you survive because the alternative is worse,” he said. “Suicide is bad.”
“It doesn’t look so bad in the apocalypse, trust me,” Five said, his tone sardonic. “But I kept thinking about you. The family. The Umbrella Academy. I kept thinking if I could get back, if I could just find a way back, then maybe you didn’t have to die. Maybe I could save you. That was all I focused on. When I wanted to stop, when I wanted to give up, when I ran out of food, when I got sick -- family got me through. Family saved my life.”
Diego turned down the street, and it was looking increasingly familiar now. He had wanted to be excited about field trips as a kid, anything outside the house, but he had come to hate the side ventures as much as anything else. The old man was poison, plain and simple.
That was the only thing that was plain and simple.
“This isn’t the apocalypse, Five,” he said, starting to slow down as he approached their destination.
“All the more reason to appreciate what we have,” Five said.
Pulling up to the curb, Diego finally put the car in park and looked at his brother in earnest. “So you’re really okay with it all then? Just doing family even if that means no Umbrella Academy?”
Five gave him a funny look. “Of course not. The Academy is the whole point.”
Diego frowned, confused now. “So you’re on my side?”
“No, you’re being a reckless, self centered idiot,” Five replied.
“But you just agreed with me!”
“About rebuilding the Academy, obviously. Everyone agrees with that,” he said. “But you’re not rebuilding anything. You’re simply indulging yourself right now.”
That one was harsh, and Diego emotionally recoiled. When hurt, he did the only natural thing: he hurt people back. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”
“Sure, because I’m bored,” Five said. “I told you that.”
Diego turned off the car. “And how is that any different?”
“Because,” Five said, opening the door. He wasn’t smirking, but he was still a smug son of a bitch. “I know my priorities, Diego. And you don’t.”
Diego had a thousand protests but no time to deliver them. All he could do, at this point, was follow.
-o-
Following was not Diego’s thing.
No, especially not when this was his idea.
His job.
Five was just tagging along.
With long strides, it wasn’t hard to outpace Five, and as they came up the walk, he came up with as many pointless observations as he could to feel useful.
“Doesn’t look like the cops made it here yet,” he said, flicking his eyes up and down the street. “The way that call went, it’s not surprising. This hardly seemed like a high priority call.”
Five kept pace neutrally. “A tripped security alarm could happen for a lot of reason.”
It was a logical conclusion, and Diego felt the need to top it. “The force has been stretched thin anyway. Things are just on high alert since the mall attack -- probably before. Is it possible that we messed something up when we travelled through time?”
Following Diego up the walk, Five lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “There could definitely be unintended consequences from averting the apocalypse, but since everyone’s not dead, this still seems like the better option. I could give you a mathematical equation for that, but it seems rather self evident.”
Diego pressed his lips together, climbing up the front steps. It was only now that he allowed himself to soak in the familiarity. He remembered being taught how to fire a gun here and hating every minute of it. It had pissed him off that he couldn’t quite control the trajectory of a bullet. That didn’t mean that their father hadn’t berated him for hours trying to teach him.
Shit, no wonder he hadn’t tried harder to remember this place. It was messed up how sometimes the good guys were the worst ones of all.
“Yeah, unnecessary, smartass,” he said, giving the porch a once-over, looking for the quickest way in. That would be the most likely spot for a break-in, which would allow Diego to see if someone had come before them. It would also be his next target to finish this job. The window on the porch was easily accessible enough. “Security system has definitely been tampered with. It’s offline.”
Five peered around Diego’s arm. “That’s not a good sign.”
“Could just be an animal,” Diego suggested, running his fingers along the untarnished windowsill. There were markes, but nothing more significant than normal wear and tear. “The wind ever.”
Five snorted. “I’ve lived a long time and seen a lot of things. Coincidences are when two people where the same shirt on a single day. Not when buildings with a secret weapons cache from our youth have mysteriously malfunctioning security alarms.”
He had no means to disprove it, and Diego had come here in agreement with Five, so his contrary desire to tell Five he was a moron was probably counterproductive. It did sound satisfying, however. “Well, whatever we do, we need to get it going,” Diego said, and it was nice how deep his voice sounded compared to the still-childish lilt in Five’s. “Cops aren’t here yet, but they will be.”
“Then we go in,” Five said. “I can pop in and have the door open in a jiff.”
Diego made a face.
Five stared at him plaintively. “Unless you sincerely want to jump through a window again. It did look like fun last time, if massively unnecessary.”
“Hey, it did the job, didn’t it?” Diego asked.
“Sure, while attracting attention from the neighborhood, creating a crime scene and leaving physical evidence everywhere,” he said. He gestured toward the window. “But hey, be my guest.”
Again, Five had a point, and Diego’s pride wasn’t a negligible thing, but he wasn’t a complete maniac. He was finally cleared from Patch’s murder, but Beaman wouldn’t be thrilled if Diego was linked to another crime scene. The cop would believe him, Diego was sure of that, but he’d put Patch’s former partner through more than enough.
“Fine,” Diego said, and it was his turn to point at the door. “Get us inside.”
At least, if it was Diego’s order, then this was still ostensibly his job.
And it was, for the record, his job.
Five didn’t seem to care about the distinction. Instead, he popped off the porch in a flash of blue, and Diego breathed heavily out his nose. It had never seemed to be fair, all the dramatic powers of his siblings. Super strength! Mind control! Talking to the dead! Teleportation!
And Diego always fumbled around with spatial manipulation, which always sounded cool until people had him explain it. The fact that he could bend a knife right into your skull wasn’t quite the party trick people were looking for in a superhero.
It was just as well. Diego didn’t even need a super power to kick ass. He trained harder and ultimately performed better. He had refined his entire body and honed his mindset to be the ultimate crime fighting machine. The power were just a nice perk. His powers didn’t define him like it did for the others. That was something Diego had on them -- and always would.
As his thoughts twisted on, the front door opened. Five was framed in the dark entryway, and he jerked his head inside. “Well? You coming?”
Grousing, Diego plodded through, brushing past Five like he’d been the first one in. As determined as he was to be first, it took him several seconds to acclimate his eyes to the dimness. Several more to make several conclusions in rapid succession.
“Someone is definitely living here,” Diego noted, taking in the mismatched and yet updated furniture. Their father had maintained things, but only in his own way, and the recliner and flat screen TV were hardly the old man’s preference.
“Figures,” Five said, stepping lightly to further inspect the room. “The best way to keep a property in order is to have tenants. I doubt we need the extra income, but if we want to keep the house secure--”
“You think Pogo is operating this?” Diego asked as the floor creaked beneath his feet.
“He’s the only one Dad trusted, I think,” Five said. “And we still have given him purview over the finances.”
Diego reflected momentarily that that might be presumptuous of them. Not that he didn’t trust Pogo, but Diego was not great with trust. Full disclosure was always better, and the fact that they now owned a rental property was probably a sign of other things they didn’t know. “Do you think the tenants know their landlord is a talking monkey?”
Five wrinkled his nose. “That seems unnecessarily insulting.”
“What?” Diego said. “It’s a valid question.”
“Look, are we going to investigate here or not?” Five demanded.
“Yes, of course,” Diego snapped back. “Though, for the record, this doesn’t look like a break in.”
“Because no one came for the flat screen, genius,” Five said snidely.
“But no signs of forced entry--”
“If they have the capability to locate a well hidden and long abandoned weapons cache, don’t you think they will have the ability to break in without making a mess?”
Diego blushed at the obvious conclusion. It was dark, though, so Five probably couldn’t tell. “Maybe, but if they’re so good then why trip the sensors at all?”
Five stopped, looking thoughtful. Clearly, it was a point worth considering.
No, Diego wasn’t proud of himself. It was totally expected that he would have keen insight that stumped even the self proclaimed family genius.
“That’s a question we can answer later,” Five said. “Once we make sure that the weapons are secure.”
Diego nodded along. “That’s all well and good, but you’re forgetting -- we don’t know where these weapons are,” he said. “When dad brought us here, he had them out. He never allowed me near when he was getting stuff out.”
“Me neither,” Five said. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t find them.”
Diego was duly skeptical. “You found them?”
“Sure, I was bored.”
“But Dad kept that shit locked,” Diego said.
“Yeah, I could jump through walls, remember?” Five said, and there he was, being smug again.
Perturbed now, Diego gestured forward. “We’re going to have to talk about your lack of respect for other people’s space, not to mention privacy.”
“You worried I’ll read your journal?” Five quipped.
“I don’t have a journal,” Diego said.
“No, just an unsettling collection of sharpened knives and masks.”
“You know, what, just find the weapons,” Diego said. “Or I will kick your ass right here.”
Five didn’t look the least bit intimidated. “We’ll take the slow route,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t want to lose you on your way to kicking my ass.”
Diego gritted his teeth, reminding himself that he believed that fratricide was wrong the whole way down the stairs.
-o-
As much as the memories were coming back to him, Diego had to admit that following Five for the time being was the only option. Diego remembered throwing down with Luther in the backyard. He remembered finding Klaus high in the bathroom. He remembered Allison doing her nails in an upstairs bedroom. He remembered family.
Five apparently had taken the effort as a child to remember floor plans instead. Sure, that made some sense. If you jumped spatially, you probably had to know shit like that, but Diego preferred to think it was attributable to Five being a bastard.
Whatever. Diego didn’t have to be in front to lead anyway. Leadership was a manner of action. It was more a personality trait than an action as far as he was concerned.
And besides, this house was weird. The mansion was weird, too, but this one had, like, hidden doors. Every time Diego thought they had hit a dead end, Five found a secret compartment that opened up into another space until they finally reached a freakish sub-basement with two long, bleak corridors spanning from either direction of the staircase.
There was no obvious sign of a problem, but it was impossible not to feel some trepidation. The fact that Five looked subdued as well made him feel better.
“I’m not sure from here,” Five confessed, keeping his voice low. It still sounded unnaturally loud, reverberating off he silent corridors, illuminated by a row of dingy, naked bulbs. “Dad kept a lot of things, but they moved around a lot. I didn’t think to ask why at the time; I liked the idea that I could use it against him someday, a secret he didn’t want told.”
Five said it ironically, but when Diego looked at him, he seemed sad. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. He thought about Five when he was 13 the first time, when he’d been confident and angry. He thought about a kid who had believed the future held something for him, and how the first declaration he’d made coming back was how everything was shit.
That was family for you, Hargreeves style. All your hopes and dreams would come back to haunt you; all your aspirations would amount to nothing.
It was amazing Diego hadn’t left sooner.
Or that he hadn’t left again.
As much as they’d changed, he wasn’t sure they’d changed that much. Five talked about family like it was a constant in the universe, and maybe he was right. Diego just wasn’t convinced that was a good thing.
“As far as hiding places go, this is pretty secure,” Diego said, nodding down the corridor. “The old bastard was paranoid.”
“Maybe just thorough, if you consider the fact that he knew the apocalypse was coming,” Five suggested.
“Because a weapons cache did him so much good to stop it?” Diego countered pointedly.
“At any rate, we should make sure it’s still secure,” Five said. “I’m sure Pogo does his due diligence.”
“But Pogo’s not here,” Diego concluded. He jerked his head downward. “You check that way but stay close. I’ll move up the hall and you make sure you let me know if you come across anything weird.”
Five took the instruction without complaint, which was good. But before setting off, he gave Diego a serious nod. “Just be careful. If someone is in here, they were able to get in past the security system. Plus, to even find this place means they know something about their target. They could be expecting us.”
That wasn’t bad deduction, but it wasn’t deduction he had made so he rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
Five was not easily placated. “I’m serious,” he said, feet grounded to the spot as if he were determined to make this point. “If we suspect anything is amiss, we should pull back and call for backup.”
What made that comment shitty wasn’t that it was strategic planning made without Diego’s input. It was that it was exactly the kind of thing Patch would say. Damn it, it was probably also the kind of thing Luther would say. Was it weird to think about how those two would get along?
Yes, it was. Too weird.
He shook his head dismissively. “We don’t have backup.”
Five was incredulous. “We have the Umbrella Academy,” he said. “You know, our family.”
He could say it with all the emphasis he wanted, but that didn’t make him right. “There is no Umbrella Academy. If our family gave a shit, they wouldn’t have sat back and done nothing.”
“There’s a difference between saying they aren’t ready for full time crime fighting and being unwilling to help out if we’re in trouble,” Five said.
“But we’re not in trouble,” Diego said. “You’re an assassin. I’m an effective crime fighting machine on my own. I’m fine, but if you feel like you’re not ready, then feel free to leave. You know where the door is.”
It was a little harsh, maybe, but Diego was just making a point. Besides, this was Five. He looked young, but he was more than a prick. He was a straight up psychopath when left to his own devices. The last thing Diego needed to worry about was his not-kid brother curling up in a ball crying because Diego insulted him.
He might need to worry about aid brother trying to murder him, but that was another issue entirely.
Besides, Five didn’t seem particularly murderous that evening. In fact, post-apocalypse, he seemed increasingly rationale. Most of the time. “There’s no way I’m letting you do this alone,” he said. “I’ll stay close.”
Five had a habit of agreeing without completely agreeing, which was annoying, but Diego could see no reason to bicker about it now. Grandstanding aside, they did have limited time before the cops showed up. Beaman was on his side, but breaking and entering was never a good way to keep friendships alive.
“Fine,” he said, starting up the hallway while Five stalked in the other direction.
At the first door, he tested the handle, annoyed but probably not surprised to find it locked. Down the hall, Five had discovered a similar situation, but before Diego could comment, Five disappeared in a flash of blue, circumventing the problem.
In retrospect, it probably would have been easier to do this together, but leaders had to stay to the plan. Diego had said he was fine, and damn it, he was going to be fine.
Fortunately, in addition to his ability to break doors down, he was also pretty good at picking locks. It wasn’t a skill he preferred -- it was a tedious alternative -- but when you were in a house with cops on the way then maybe it was best not to play the part of a robber.
It took him no more than several minutes to jimmy the lock open, and he tried not to think about how far down the other side of the hall Five had been able to get in that time. The thought pissed him off.
At any rate, the first room was mostly empty. The second one down the hall had outdated medical supplies. There was no sign of Five, so he concluded a check of two more rooms before coming to the final door at the end of the hall. This door was reinforced, and the locking mechanism was far more complex. It wouldn’t be easy to open -- assuming, of course, that it would open for Diego at all.
He stole a glance back down the hall and wondered idly if Five would show up and offer to help. Diego wasn’t going to ask, but if he offered…
It wasn’t to be, though. The hallway was empty and quiet.
Diego turned back to the door with a little sigh. If he wasn’t willing to do the hard shit, then he didn’t deserve to wear the mask.
Lockpick in hand, Diego set to the task but when he touched the lock, he found it surprisingly loose.
In fact, upon further inspection, the thing looked impressive but it wasn’t latched. The lock hadn’t been engaged.
Or, Diego logically reminded himself, it had been engaged until someone disengaged it.
Recently.
Possibly during a break in that turned off the security alarm.
Well, shit.
He looked back down the hallway and thought of Five and his suggestion to be careful. He had recommended calling for backup if anything was amiss.
But it was just a door.
It was just an open lock.
And Diego wasn’t in trouble.
Diego was fine.
He needed to prove to Five, to his family, that you didn’t need to be perfect to do this job. You just had to be willing. All their hedging and meandering -- Diego was fed up with waiting. Action; he was a man of action. Straight up.
He didn’t need backup.
He didn’t need family.
Instead, Diego took a deep breath and opened the door.
-o-
The first thing that Diego thought was shit, that’s a lot of weapons.
The second thing that Diego thought was shit, there’s someone already here.
The someone wasn’t Five, for the record. He was taller, more muscular. He was dressed not unlike Diego, although he hadn’t bothered with a mask.
It was unsettling, sure. But what was strange was that the dude was surrounded by weapons and he was making no visible attempt to actually take them. If anything, he seemed to be waiting.
Waiting for what?
Well, how the hell was Diego supposed to know.
And more than that, why the hell would he care.
The knives were in his hands before he realized he’d unsheathed them. He stared the man down, wondering fleeting what Patch would do. He could still remember his training. He’d quit cop school, for the record. He hadn’t flunked. He knew what he was supposed to do. He knew protocol. He just didn’t like it and refused to be bound to it.
But he had to give this guy a chance.
That was fair.
For Patch’s sake.
One chance before Diego put a knife in him.
“Put your hands up,” Diego ordered, standing tense in the doorway. “And I won’t have to hurt you.”
The man smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. “It is quite fortunate you came,” he said, voice lilting with a Mexican accent. “I was worried it might be one of the others.”
That was a vague statement, but Diego could deduce its meaning well enough. Five had suspected all along that this was targeted, and he had postulated that it might even be personal. Therefore, this guy recognizing Diego as a member of the Umbrella Academy made some sense.
It wasn’t good, though.
It meant that this guy had been waiting for them, for him specifically.
He would never admit it to the others, but he thrived on the element of surprise. It was always more useful when your opponent didn’t know you had a super power. It just did.
Diego narrowed his eyes, shoulders tensing. “Do your whole villain speech later, after you’re in police custody,” he said. “This is private property.”
“Indeed,” the man said. “Property that you also have no right to be in at this time of night, but here you are.”
“This is my family’s,” Diego said.
“Ah, yes,” the man mused. He made no threatening moves and it wasn’t readily apparent if he were armed. Maybe that was a moot distinction considering the vast amount of danger weaponry within his grasp. “The things we do for family.”
Diego brought his knives to bare, a little more pointedly. “I told you to shut up,” he said. “Hands in the air.”
For a moment, he thought it might work. He thought maybe this guy who broke into a weapons cache to steal nothing, maybe this guy who talked like he knew Diego, maybe he would roll over and play nice. Maybe Diego would turn another perp over to the cops and maybe he’d get to tell Five smugly that he told him so, he told him this was no big deal.
But they were in a hidden sub-basement in one of Dad’s old buildings. The guy was sitting, literally lounging, on a pack of hand grenades with machine guns stacked behind him. There was a rocket launcher on the far wall. It was his own private apocalypse.
In other words, this wasn’t good.
In fact, Diego might have to say it was bad.
It was a gut impulse, maybe, but Diego had good instincts. That was why he was able to do the job he did.
In short, he should have taken Five’s offer of backup seriously.
It was too late now.
The man smiled still as he stood up, lifting his hands slowly, slowly in the air. “Family,” the man almost cooed. “It’s really just a hell of a thing, don’t you think?”
Diego’s breath caught in his chest.
In a split second, the man kicked out, sending a crate of ammunition crashing to the ground. Diego reacted quickly, and both knives found their mark in either shoulder, but the man barely staggered as the knives fell to the ground, unable to penetrate the skin of the suit the man was wearing. It was reinforced; smart.
And inconvenient. Diego reached for another knife, this time willing to go for the kill, but he was too slow. The man had closed the gap between them, and Diego was forced to throw a punch instead.
It was a glancing blow, and the man recovered without missing a beat. He slammed his fist at Diego, and Diego only just managed to dodge it. While reeling, he could not avoid the follow up kick to his stomach.
With a grunt, he refused to acknowledge as the breath left his body. Instead, he used the downward moment to recoil, and he surged upward, crashing into the man’s body with all the force he could muster. Together, they tumbled back, and they slammed into the stack of hand grenades and Diego could only hope they were sufficiently disarmed. Not even Sir Reginald was enough of a jackass to leave fully armed weaponry sitting idle while renting the place out to an unsuspecting family.
That was a wayward thought. If he didn’t die in short order from an explosion, he would have to deal with this moron first.
Unfortunately, he was a moron who knew a thing or two about hand to hand combat.
Or more than a thing or two.
Blows rained down, and Diego had to fall back to avoid being dazed. He was scrambling now, finding himself at a disadvantage. He just had time to pull a small knife, flicking it quickly. With little time to aim the trajectory, it caught the man in the upper arm.
He cried out but quickly cut it off. Yanking it free, he was on Diego within a second. The second was long enough, however. Diego got his bearings.
He got his shit together.
The knives were helpful, yeah.
But he didn’t need the powers to be a hero.
That wasn’t his thing.
Never was.
His thing was working harder to be better. That was it. His family couldn’t see it yet, but this asshole was about to learn it the hard way.
This time, he came at the guy hard, targeting each blow for the maximum damage. After a good hit to the face, he was able to land three more consecutive punches, two more to the face and one to the gut. He expected the guy to double over so he could finish things off with a knee to the face, but the man surprised him with a bloody grin.
“You are good,” he said, sounding somewhat pleased.
It wasn’t that Diego didn’t appreciate the comment, but he wasn’t in a position to start accepting compliments from people he was trying to take down. “Shut up,” he growled, lashing out.
This time the man dodged the blow, and he caught Diego’s arm, yanking him forward while he was already off balance. His arm was wrenched back and it was all he could do not to yelp as the man increased the torque on his hold.
“I’ve been waiting so long that I was worried I’d built this up too much,” he said, conversationally as he pleased. “But I’m serious. This has been well worth the wait.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Diego gritted out, and he steeled himself, using brute strength to destabilize his opponent and wrench his arm free. He followed up with a kick that sent the man sprawling back, careening into the wall with the rocket launcher.
Diego briefly considered the practical value of a rocket launcher when raising seven super powered children to stop the apocalypse but there was no time for an adequate assessment.
The man righted himself with a sneer. It wasn’t exactly contempt. Excitement, somehow? “Don’t be surprised, Diego,” he said. “You’re not as stealthy as you think.”
At the mention of his name, Diego felt cold fear coalesce into the pit of his stomach, steeling him from the inside out. With a howl of rage, he flung himself forward. It was a brutal, full throttled attack, but to his dismay, it yielded little. With a cackle, the man rolled out of the way and Diego hit the wall. His hand throbbed. His next punch landed, but not well, and with an easy duck, the man regathered himself in the center of the room.
“How the hell do you know who I am?” Diego seethed as he advanced.
The man watched him in anticipation. “I know everything about you,” he said. “More than you know about yourself.”
If he was trying to piss Diego off, it was working. If he wasn’t -- well, then what the hell was he trying to do? Maybe Diego would ask him. After he sliced him open and made him bleed for a bit.
Just to incapacitate, of course.
Of course.
“You’re a freak,” Diego said, nearly spitting the words. He sparred forward and the man flitted away, almost in tandem. “Who the hell are you?”
A glancing blow was followed by another. They parried back and forth, almost like a bit of choreography they’d rehearsed. The man could fight, Diego would give him that. But he was making every effort right now to minimally engage, each move designed to keep Diego at bay.
“You know me, you do,” the man almost gushed. “You should know my work at least. I made it as memorable for you as I could.”
Diego was panting with exertion now, working harder and harder without much success. “What?”
“Please, don’t tell me it wasn’t enough!” the man said, looking hurt as he shied away from the kick of Diego’s boot. “I mean, do I have to go nuclear? Chemical bombs? I really thought mass murder would be sufficient, even for you.”
At this, Diego stopped. His fists were curled, his chest heaving. “Wait,” he said, swallowing hard. “You were behind the mall attack?”
The man lit up, looking positively delighted. “You did notice!”
It was any icy shiver that ran down Diego’s spine. The mall attack was a large domestic incident. This? This was a targeted ploy on the Hargreeves family.
Which meant…
Diego shook his head, muscles going so tense that he could hardly breath. “How did you know about this stash?”
Because the question wasn’t why this guy wanted weapons. Why didn’t matter. He didn’t give a shit about the villain’s posturing. Of course a mass murderer wanted more tools for mass murder. But how had he managed to find them here? When Diego himself hadn’t even known they’d existed and it belonged to his old man?
This only seemed to please the man more. “I told you,” he said. “I know everything about you.”
Well, that was a shitty answer.
Because why the hell did Diego matter if it was about the weapons?
And if it was about Diego, then why the hell were weapons involved?
Shit, he should just throw a knife in the man’s head and be done with it, but something transfixed him, had him frozen on the spot. His time with the Umbrella Academy was making him indecisive again, and it was showing up at the worst possible moments.
But he wanted to know.
Was that so wrong?
Everyone else got their time and space to find out.
That was what he wanted.
That was what he needed.
“What is this about? The mall, here -- what do you want?” Diego asked, demanded, begged. All these things he needed, all these things he wanted, it was suffocating, damn it. He was drowning right here on dry land.
The knife in his hand almost ached, but he could bring his fingers to unclench.
“You’re assuming that the mall was the target,” the man said, and he was smiling. The son of a bitch was smiling.
Shit.
Shit.
“What? You killed all those people, all those innocent people, to what? Get in here? To get my attention?” he asked, incredulous enough to hope he was wrong.
Because he had to be wrong.
Didn’t he?
The smile darkened. “The Umbrella Academy doesn’t appreciate you, Diego, but I do,” he said.
Before Diego could ask more -- before he could unfurl his fingers and throw the damn knife -- there was a noise down the hall. “Diego! Diego! Come quick!”
The man tilted his head toward the door. “You better go.”
Diego shook his head.
From down the hall, Five sounded frantic. “Come now!”
“Little guy isn’t the type to panic, is he?” the man asked.
Diego’s lip curled. Anger, dismay, uncertainty: all of it.
“Where the hell are you?” was the flustered reply down the hall, and Diego could hear the familiar flash as Five popped in and out of space, presumably to start searching the rooms.
“Lives are on the line, innocent lives,” the man said. “You’d never live with yourself if you let people die when you had it in your power to help. That’s what you’re about, isn’t it? Being a hero?”
“Anywhere I go, you’re coming with me, asshole,” Diego said.
The man looked genuinely apologetic. “That’s not how this works. You have to picked. Be the hero and save lives or bring me in.”
“I don’t think so,” Diego said, and he took a menacing step forward, knife raised. “There’s no one here but me and my brother, jackass. And I’m the one holding a knife.”
“That’s because the family is upstairs locked in their own panic room,” the man said. “The door is rigged with your so-called dad’s very own explosives. By my count, you’ve still got five minutes to get them out before they’re go down and take your family’s legacy down with them.”
It could be a lie; it was probably a lie. Bad guys lied. They exaggerated. They played the bluff.
“Diego!” Five called out again. He sounded desperate.
Five didn’t get desperate until shit was going down. At the end of the world, he’d kept his shit together and saved them all. His current reaction meant…
Well, it meant that the smirking man in front of him wasn’t a liar.
He was a bad man, sure.
But he wasn’t lying.
“Diego, I’m not messing around about this!” Five was all but yelling now.
The man stepped closer, close enough that Diego wouldn’t even have to throw the knife. “I know you, Diego. I know the choices you’re going to make just like I knew you’d come tonight. You won’t let me down,” he said, voice dropped almost into a whisper now. “You won’t let your brother down. And you won’t let those innocent people upstairs down either.”
Diego could be a contrary bastard. He had been known to do the opposite of what he was told to do just because. He didn’t like following orders. He didn’t like abiding by rules. And he sure as hell didn’t like being bossed around by self satisfied assholes.
But Diego was a hero, first and foremost.
That was the job.
That was why he was here.
He knew it.
And this man, somehow, knew it, too.
“This isn’t over,” he hissed, before turning for the door at a run.
Calling after him, the man sounded gleeful. “I’m counting on it!”