"𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑."
—𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝐻𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛

𝒩.

𝑊𝑒𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑑𝑎𝑦. 8:15 𝐴.𝑀. (. . . 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛)

"𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐍. 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 the phone," Klaus interrupted, causing everyone's frantic chatter to die down. "We all died fighting this thing the first time around. Remember?"

Diego, starting to play with one of his knives with his good hand, nodded in agreement. "Klaus, shockingly, has a point. What gives us a win this time?"

No one had the time to answer, however, as the lights started to erratically flash. A light hum of electricity buzzed through the air.

The source of all the disruption soon appeared: a blue wave just above the bar counter, similar to the one they had seen the day of the funeral.

Natalia backed up a little, and she was slightly more reassured as Diego stepped in front of her, both of their eyes fixated on the blue occurrence.

Ending their wonder about what it could be, Five fell through it and onto the counter. He landed on the black briefcase he had been holding with a thud.

"Je-Jesus!" exclaimed Allison, taking a step back.

"You guys, am I still high, or do you see him, too?" questioned Klaus, who had fallen onto the couch when Five appeared.

Luther's eyebrows furrowed. "Five, where have you been?"

Natalia then noticed that both Five and the briefcase were covered in dust, though her attention to that quickly disappeared once he groaned and fell to the ground.

Allison used her free hand to grab Five's arm and help him up while Luther did the same on his other side. "Are you all right?"

"Who did this?" demanded Luther.

"Irrelevant," Five replied, grabbing Allison's coffee and drinking it as he limped a few steps away (Natalia made a mental note to ask him about the limp). He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "So, the apocalypse is in three days. The only chance we have to save our world is, well, us."

"The Umbrella Academy," Luther stated.

"Yeah, but with me, obviously," Five replied irritatedly. "So if y'all don't get your sideshow acts together and get over yourselves, we're screwed. Who cares if Dad messed us up? Are we gonna let that define us? No. And to give us a fighting chance to see next week, I've come back with a lead." He used his free hand to pick out a folded paper from his pocket and showed it to them. "I know who's responsible for the apocalypse. This is who we have to stop."

Allison took the paper from him, and everyone gathered around her. She unfolded the paper, which, according to the title at the top left, was from the Commission. And judging by the 'To:' line, it was meant for Hazel and Cha-Cha. The message itself was one sentence:

REASSIGNMENT: PROTECT HAROLD JENKINS.

Natalia looked up at Five with a scrunched face. "Harold Jenkins?"

"Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?" questioned Diego.

Five finished the coffee before tossing the empty cup behind him. As it clattered on the ground, he answered, "I don't know . . . yet. But I do know that he's responsible for the apocalypse. So we have to find him. And we have to do it now."

Luther's eyebrows furrowed. "How is he connected to what's gonna happen?"

"I don't know."

"Wait, so you just know his name?" questioned Diego incredulously, taking a step forward. "That's it?"

"That's enough," Five insisted.

"There's probably dozens of Harold Jenkinses in the city," he pointed out.

Five raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Well, we better start looking, then."

"I'm sorry," interjected Allison with a small scoff. "Am I the only one that's skeptical here? I mean, how exactly do you know all of this about what's his name?"

"Harold Jenkins," Five corrected firmly. "You know those lunatics in masks who attacked the house?"

"Oh, yeah," Klaus breathed out, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think I remember those guys."

"Yeah," Diego replied sarcastically, "the ones that attacked us while you were getting drunk."

"Yeah. Them," Five said quickly. "They were sent by the Temps Commission to stop from coming back."

Allison folded her arms. "The Temps what?"

"My former employer. They monitor all of time and space to make sure that whatever is supposed to happen . . . happens. They believe the apocalypse is coming in three days. So I went to Commission headquarters and intercepted a message that was meant for said lunatics: 'Protect Harold Jenkins.' So he must be responsible for the apocalypse."

The group was silent for a moment. That silence quickly ended, however, as they burst into questions:

"What do you mean, 'protect time and space'?"

"Where is this Hazel, Five?"

"My skin is on fire."

Natalia glanced over at Klaus, who was staring aimlessly at the ground while sitting on the edge of the couch, though her attention drew back to Allison as she questioned:

"Do you have any idea how insane this sounds?"

Natalia's eyebrows furrowed even further as she watched Five groan and rub the side of his stomach. Before she could question that, he tilted his chin up and grit his teeth.

"You know what else is insane? I look like a thirteen-year-old boy. Klaus talks to the dead, and Luther thinks he's fooling everybody with that overcoat," he said angrily, causing Luther to look at them in bewilderment. "Everything about us is insane. It always has been."

Klaus curled up against the arm of the couch and looked over at them. "He's got a point there."

"We didn't choose this life, we're just living it," Five continued, spreading his arms out. "For the next three days, anyway."

"But the last time we tried to stop it, we all died," Allison pointed out. "Why is this time any different? Why shouldn't I go home to my daughter?"

"Because this time, I'm here. We have the name of the man responsible," Five answered. "Guys, we actually have the chance of saving the lives of billions of people. Including Claire."

Allison shifted in her spot. "You know her name?"

"I do," he replied, "and I'd like to live long enough to meet her."

"All right." Allison shrugged. "Let's get this bastard."

Diego, who had grabbed his jacket from the counter, nodded, his upper lip curling. "You had me at Gerald Jenkins."

Natalia scrunched her nose. "Harold Jenkins."

"Whatever," Diego replied with a thrown glare at her. "I've already lost two people this week, I'm not losing anyone else."

"And Luther?" Five asked as the three of them crossed the room towards the exit.

"Yeah, you go," Luther sighed. "I'm gonna stay and go through Dad's files. I still think this has something to do with why he sent me to the Moon."

"Seriously?" Diego questioned incredulously. "Now you wanna make the end of the world about you and Dad?"

"No," he scoffed. "'Watch for threats.' That's what he told me. You think that's a coincidence? This all has to be connected somehow."

"No, we should all stick together," Allison pointed out, coming to his side and placing a gentle hand on his arm.

"We don't have time for this," Five called irritatedly.

"Let's roll. I know where we can find this asshole." He nudged Natalia and nodded towards the entrance. "Nat, you're with me."

Allison and Five ended up joining them in the car. And as much as Natalia insisted on sitting in the back with Allison, Diego played the "I got shot, pity me" card and she gave in to sitting beside him (though she suspected it was more because he didn't want Five in the front passenger seat).

Where they could find this asshole, apparently, was the police station.

"I know this Jenkins dude has to have a record," Diego murmured as he unbuckled his seatbelt with his good hand. "We gotta get our hands on this file."

"And your plan is to what?" Allison piped up with a raised eyebrow. "Waltz in there and just ask for it?"

"I know the station like the back of my hand, sis," Diego reassured her while checking the side-view mirror. "I've spent a lot of time inside."

"Handcuffed," Natalia scoffed, though that only earned her a light smack on the thigh.

"Whatever. Here's the plan—"

"Plan?" Five interrupted, his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm just gonna blink in and get the file."

"No, that's not . . ." Diego shut his eyes and shook his head. "You don't know the ins and outs of this place, okay?"

"I literally just did this yesterday."

Natalia stared at the boy in bewilderment. "What?"

"My yesterday, not your yesterday," he corrected, though that didn't do much for her confusion. "It'll take me two seconds, why don't I just go—"

"Listen to me," Diego cut him off. "You are not going in there. I made a call. That's what a leader does—he leads."

"Okay, Luther," Natalia snorted, though she received another smack for that.

Before anyone else could make any more objections, Diego opened his door and got out of the car. All the rest could do was exchange exasperated looks. Natalia rolled her eyes as he tossed her the keys and shut the door.

"You know what," Allison murmured, craning her neck to peer out the window. "I'm gonna make a quick phone call to Vanya."

The three of them got out of the car—Natalia noted the grunt and wince Five made as he shuffled out—and went onto the sidewalk.

While Allison busied herself with the payphone, Natalia settled herself beside Five, who was leaning against the wall.

"Hey, kid," she called as she folded her arms. "What's wrong?"

"Kid?" Five scoffed, giving her a disgruntled look. "I'm double your age. More than."

"But you still got those cute chubby cheeks," she cooed, pinching his cheek and grinning. She was only able to do that for a moment before her hand was swatted away, and she laughed.

"Enough," he grumbled. "It's the end of the world as we know it, there's no time for that shit."

"Is that why you're hiding whatever injury you have?"

He seemed surprised for a moment before clearing his throat and furrowing his eyebrows. "What injury?"

"Oh, come on, Five," she chuckled. "The others may be stupid, but I'm not."

Five pursed his lips for a moment before shaking his head. "It's nothing for you to worry about, Natalia."

"Why not?" she complained. "You and I were close in the . . . few months before you disappeared. Just tell me."

Five sighed. His eyes drifted down to his stomach—the source of his pain, it seemed—and looked back up at her. Another reluctant sigh before he began to admit:

"All that happened, is that—"

"Bow down to your leader."

"Are you kidding me?" Natalia whined loudly as Diego popped up from around the corner, immediately wiping the smug smirk on his face.

"What?" he complained. "What did I—"

His words were interrupted by his own small yelp as she grabbed the folder from his hands and whacked his arm with it.

"Thanks a lot, Diego," she sighed, finally coming to a stop and flipping the folder open.

"I don't get it," he continued, "what the hell did I—"

Natalia, however, cut him off as she went to Harold Jenkins' page, "Holy shit."

"Oh, so I'm not allowed to finish a—"

"Shut it, Diego," Allison interrupted, stepping away from the payphone and towards her. "What's wrong?"

Natalia stared at the same boyish face that she had seen only that morning, only this time, he was staring dead straight in a black and white mugshot. "Harold Jenkins is Leonard Peabody."