✎ mads' note !
long chapter!! action scenes!! yikes!! (Not a fan of action scenes, in case you were unaware)

✎ info !
1.7K words
published on apr 23, 2019
edited aug 3, 2022

꒰  CHAPTER I.VI.  ꒱

          AFTER DISCOVERING YOUR POWER, you hurried inside to find your father. When you did, you activated your newfound ability again to show him the red umbrella. He, ironically enough, told you not to have your umbrella opened inside, and then had you follow him.

He led you to his office, pulling the stool from the easel to the front of his desk for you to sit. You did so and then waited patiently for him to situate his notebook.

"What would you describe your power as, Number Eight?"

You looked at your inked wrist involuntarily. "Controlling markings on my skin? Materializing them?"

"You have markers in your blazer, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Take them out."

You experimented with different objects drawn on you, using common ones to start. Hargreeves would name an item, you'd draw it and materialize it.

"A pencil," he instructed.

That'll be a good trick for my art, you thought as you drew it, much more efficient. You wouldn't dare comment aloud, but you admitted to yourself that you enjoyed the practice and discovery. With a yellow pencil now on your forearm, you used your power, grasping it awkwardly with your nondominant hand when it appeared.

"In order to fully utilize the surface of your body, you'll have to become ambidextrous to draw on both sides," Hargreeves noted. "An eight-ball."

Ha. You're funny, Dad. Because I'm Number Eight. You drew this in black on the back of your hand. Making it appear, you hoped he wouldn't realize it was a magic eight-ball instead of a pool one. You tossed it back and forth, admiring it as your father wrote in his notebook again. This is honestly a cool thing to have... Will I be a good asset to the superhero team?

With your question now silently asked, you gave the eight-ball a subtle shake. You glanced warily at Hargreeves as you awaited a response. He was still writing. You looked down.

Without a doubt, you read. A small smile played at your lips.

Your father closed his notebook. "I have an assignment for you, Number Eight."

You were put to work immediately. He had the tattoo artist come back, allowing you to get the Academy insignia put permanently on your wrist. However, you soon realized that you didn't even want it.

You couldn't make it permanent. Not after how long you were excluded, after how long you were made an outcast.

Desperate for any kind of distraction, you asked the artist to train you how to tattoo yourself instead, laconically explaining that it was a part of your power. Technically that's not a lie... you thought to yourself.

With a strange look, the tattoo artist agreed. The training went well until you were asked to show what you'd learned; you had to give yourself a tattoo. You couldn't put the umbrella on your wrist, but luckily you innovated a different idea.

You put a violin on one shoulder and a paintbrush on the other. The former was a reminder of Viktor and the latter was to make your hobby easier. A small palette with primary and neutral colors rested on the back of your nondominant hand, as well. You told your father that he didn't have to buy paint for you anymore, although you doubted he registered it.

You were surprised you didn't flinch when the needle first pierced your skin. It didn't hurt at all throughout the entire process. Only the same tingling sensation.

Happy with the idea, you also put the magic eight-ball in the palm of your dominant hand. Even though you weren't sure if it was credible, it was still nice to have. You were given the task of experimenting with different images and their effects, as well, so you had lots of other miscellaneous marks on your arms.

As you practiced, your sketchbook laid out in front of you, you were told to listen for the alarms in the house.

They used to always startle you, making you rush out into the hall only to be shoved back into your room by one of your siblings running past.

"What's it like being included in this?" you asked yourself, your train of thought getting cut off when a new idea popped into mind. You glanced up at the crime-fighting suit Grace gave you before writing it down.

Knives on fingers for Diego, you scrawled quickly. You then got to work outlining the tools, the ones on your dominant hand being a bit more "abstract" than the others. You were just finishing up when the alarm sounded.

"Come along, now, Number Eight! We have a car chase on our hands," Hargreeves yelled from the hallway.

You were slipping into your sleek new outfit in a hurry when you heard this. "On my way!"

"Even if you won't be pursuing the criminals on foot, you still need to act in a timely manner."

"Will Mom drive?" you heard Diego shout. Hargreeves gave him a laconic confirmation, making you smile.

You shoved your mask into your sketchbook and grabbed it, rushing out and following your siblings to the car. Everyone piled in, extremely squished, and Grace began driving.

Leaning forward to see him, you sent Five a look of ambivalence— excitement, nervousness, curiosity. Other than the rumbling of the engine, there was silence.

"Okay, what are we thinking, team? We should consider any and all possibilities while thinking about a plan," Luther said at last. "Weaponry, number of people, number of cars, etcetera."

"I've thought about it a little bit, but I don't have much for this particular scenario," you piped up, navigating through your sketchbook. "It's important to think about mobility; those with powers that grant them the ability to move between cars should use them. Luther with agility, Five with teleporting, and... I guess myself, too."

Klaus leaned over your shoulder. "Someone's been taking notes," he said, impressed. He then gave a weird look upon noticing the drawings.

You quickly realized you had doodles of Five scattered across the page you were on and you flipped it. More doodles. You flipped it. More. You slammed the cover shut. "Well, yeah! What kind of a sibling would I be if I didn't support you on missions?"

The air changed. Guilt and misery hung in it, and suddenly no one would meet your eyes. Five ignored this fact, proud that his past guilt had already been expiated, and spoke up. "Back to business. What else do you have in mind, (Y/N)?"

You spent the duration of the car ride discussing strategies and the best ones to execute. Then, you reached the highway where the criminals were. You were able to distinguish five vehicles with reckless drivers, all swerving around the others in a line.

Okay, okay, think. How can I get to the third truck? Luther climbed out the window and leapt across the line to the first one, Five teleported to the second, and you were given the task of reaching the third. Allison would aim for the last two on their tails, using her rumor to make the criminals pull over and surrender.

Rockets? No... Springs? I guess it's worth a shot.

Rolling up your sleeves and finding a place for two spirals, you drew them on your arms and rolled down the window closest to you.

"Be careful, Dear," Grace told you from the front mirror.

Shaking, you began climbing out of the car. "Yeah, I will!" you said, unaware if you were trying to assure her or yourself.

You placed your arms on the roof of the car with the spring drawings pressed into it. Before using your power, you began envisioning the springs that you would generate. Strong, tightly coiled. I need a fast, powerful force to get myself that far.

With a countdown from three, you created the springs and catapulted yourself through the air. Everything moved in slow motion until you crashed into the trunk of the pickup truck.

You let out a relieved breath as you shook off your stupor and stood up. Wanting to act briskly to take the offenders by surprise, you then punched through the back window. "Hey, assholes!"

As soon as you and the rest began to advance, the line of cars dispersed across the highway, bringing you and Five side by side. However, you were occupied with the criminal that climbed out of the passenger seat and through the broken window.

"(Y/N), you got it over there?" Five asked amidst his own fight.

"Yeah!" you yelled back cheerily. Anticipating and dodging the attacks sent your way was as easy as memorizing a pattern. "Doing great!" Finally grasping an opening to counter, you clenched your fist and threw an explosive punch. Activating the "POW!" on your knuckles added a whole new level to your combat, you decided. The criminal was knocked unconscious in the back of the truck, leaving you now with only the driver.

"Oh, Diego!" you exclaimed across the lanes, suddenly remembering. He looked at you questioningly as you materialized the knives from the fingers of one hand. They loomed out from your knuckles like claws, and you flaunted them proudly, finally beginning to feel useful. "I have these!"

Diego made a face. "What do you want me to do with your magic knives?"

"'Magic knives...' Throw them?!" You sent them into the air for him to redirect, and each of the five successfully hit a target. "Yes!"

You then called them back to your hand. Four of them returned to their inked state, but you grasped the last one to use yourself. You clambered into the passenger seat to finish your job.

"Pull over and no one else from your gang, including you, will get hurt," you said to the driver, holding the knife at his life's expense. He obeyed, and you quickly drew a pair of handcuffs onto a free space of your hand to apprehend him after.

You stepped out of the car with the criminal in tow. Looking back down the highway, you found the four other trucks —along with your family's car— pulled over along the side. Your siblings had also stopped the offenders they pursued; they waited for the authorities and waved to you in the distance. You grinned and waved back.

Mission successful.