☂︎ 𝔱𝔰𝔲 | ❛ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ... ʀɪɢʜᴛ? ❜

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❛❛𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐙𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃, 'Man is as a rope stretched between the animal and the Superhuman--'"

𝟏𝟕 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐎

The seven children stand packed in at the bottom of a winding stairwell in matching tracksuits as they wait for their cue. Perched at the top, nose buried in his scarlet leather-bound journal scribbling the last of his thoughts was their father. His monocle tucked into his left eye as it always was, only enunciating the scornful glare landing on the academy.

"'a rope over an abyss. It is a dangerous crossing, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous trembling, and halting.'"

They all watch in anticipation as his pencil suddenly halts, his eyes darting to them precisely once before the book snaps shut. He brings the whistle up to his lips and a shrill ring floods the stairwell and so too do the mass of children that suddenly crumble apart.

"As much as you much strive for individual greatness - and strive you must - it won't come to you of its own accord..."

They had passed yet another round of posters when Diego finally stole Luther's lead. A triumphant smile bloomed across his face when a muted whoosh filled his ears, knocking it right off. An indent in space-time itself spit out the form of his brother just steps ahead of him and a growl grew in his throat.

"you must also remember that there is no individual stronger than the collective."

It was quickly swallowed by the sound of a high-pitched tune and a sudden breeze picked up in the closed stairwell. Before his eyes found the source of the not-so-mysterious wind, he realized who was causing it and another heavy stone fell into his stomach. A young and spirited Vanya had launched herself off the balcony and now sailed far above their heads and straight to the top. A mischievous giggle left her throat at her brother's angered words and the whistle blew, signaling her victory. Vanya had won and Five had blinked to the top.

"That's not fair!" He cried up the stairwell, stopping to swallow several heavy breaths. "They cheated!"

"They adapted."

"The ties that bind you together make you stronger than you are alone."

Allison's quiet sobs nearly match the hum of the needle drilling into Diego's skin where the ink finds its new home. She clutches her left wrist tight to her person without touching the tattoo already pierced into her skin. The umbrella freshly etched into her wrist matched that of her brother Klaus's who now holds her close in a hug. Tears slip from his eyes and he desperately wipes them away as his sister buries her sobs into his shoulder.

Grace senses the turmoil and searing pain in her son Diego as he grits his teeth and holds back the tears, accepting the pain piercing his skin. A frown falls across her face and she steps forward, reaching for his free hand as he grips the armrest until his knuckles turn white. But he does something unexpected, and rips his hand away from her touch and carefully hid his tearful expression from his mother. Grace knew a great deal as she was programmed to, but she had yet to find out what had evolved within her to make her feel hurt, and such immense guilt as she did now when she saw her children in such pain. And yet there was nothing she could do.

Reginald was still watching. He was always watching, as he always would be.

"They will make you impervious to the pain and hardship the world will thrust upon you."

Grace steps back to her post beside Reginald, and she sends him an involuntary smile she hopes will appease him. Perhaps, she thought, if she behaved he would be in a better mood and therefore go easier on the children. Her gleaming blue eyes fall past his shoulder to see Luther clutching his stomach with a grimace screwed tight on his face and her smile fell. No doubt the poor boy's anxiety was worse than ever - his anxiety levels were close to Diego's usually with the expectations thrust upon him. And the others were fairing no better.

"And believe me when I tell you,"

Her poor babies. She could sense Ben holding back tears and her sensors picked up on a great deal of activity in his amygdala; more than his usual. And Five and Vanya... They were always good and looking out for him. But they were fairing no better themselves.

"life will be hard."

Much like Diego, they were trying to be strong. But they couldn't hide their despair from Grace. Five, who usually held such kill in keeping a brave face, was now in shambles where he sat in between Ben and Vanya.

"It will be painful."

From where she sits, Vanya's dark brown eyes drill into the sight of the needle painting her brother's skin. She can't help but visualize what it is to feel like, the pain she is surely about to endure. It turns her stomach and the patch of skin on the inside of her wrist was already feeling irritated but perhaps that was because her thumb had anxiously been tracing circles where her new tattoo was meant to be.

It was horrifying to Vanya. As it was to them all. She might not have grown up in an environment even remotely close to normal but she had enough common sense to realize even this was twisted.

She looked down at her blank wrist and sighed, the question she had been asking herself all week like a whisper in the back of her mind; then why was some twisted part of her glad she was getting one?

"We can accomplish anything,"

Night had fallen and the moon hung bright in the sky, its soft rays spilling in through the window curtains of the west side of the mansion as it did almost every night. Number One was tucked deep into his blankets, his mind worlds away in the land of sleep, completely unaware of his father sitting at his bedside. He observes the rise and fall of his son's breathing and for a single, fleeting moment, one who didn't know the man well enough might mistake his studious stare for something out of fondness. But no.

"when we accept responsibility together."

His hard stare had only lingered long enough for him to silently debate with himself if the boy was far enough into his unconscious state to notice the wires he now placed on his temple. As Reginald predicted, the boy was none the wiser. He rolled over in bed and onto his side where he hugged his pillow tight to his tiny body and was lulled deeper into sleep. Reginald took that as his cue and rose from his seat on the edge of the bed and disappears into the hallway of wire trails.

"This is what creates trust."

The house is quiet and eerily still. A fearsome tremor had hit the house not half an hour prior and yet the hallway connecting all seven Academy kids' rooms lays dormant, the silence ever fragile. Exactly seven wires - near-identical to that of the one on Luther's head - pool out from each bedroom where they collide into a tangled braid outside in the hallway. The braid of wires stretches on and on, and on some more where they wind all the way past an abandoned service elevator shaft in the back of the hallway that creeks open in the dead of night. Emerging from it, Reginald, with a haunted look suppressed deep in his hollow eyes and an eighth wire spool clutched in his hand.

He now sits at his desk in his study, the best of his wounds - luckily concealable - tended to. He scribbled furiously into his journal, now more than ever. Despite Grace's warnings, he had lost precious time and would need to be getting to work as soon as possible on a new power source.

The threat was growing but could only be contained for so long.

He could send Pogo down again, but it was too risky. No, this must be dealt with personally, it took great precision and the ability to make hard decisions. Something Pogo had shown reluctance in.

But never mind that. The readings were coming in and he only had now. He had to work quickly. No time to dawdle.

Number One was sleeping soundly. His vitals were steady and boring. Which was ideal. No stressors, no disappointments. He was perfectly mundane and predictable, just as Reginald liked it.

He saw a noticeable spike in Number Three's brain activity - a worthy mention and something worth keeping an eye on. But then again, Reginald thought, she always had shown promise with little to no follow-through like most of her brothers.

Such as Number Five. Number Five held such potential... And yet somehow he always managed to overestimate his abilities in a pitiful attempt to prove himself. Reginald could only hope the boy would not let his gifts go to waste.

Number Seven was nearly the opposite. She was all too aware of her potential, and despite her the high praise she had earned she had shown many signs of rebellion in the past few weeks. So peculiar... So peculiar that someone as bright as herself should believe any efforts to distance herself from the truth would result in what she so desperately sought; safety.

So peculiar that she should be destined to seek out a life of security, born out of independence from her family and powers when she too was destined to see the world end because of those very things.

"Together you will stand against the reign of evil."

Number Zero. Violent. Unpredictable. Unmatched. Reginald was never unconfident in his own strengths, or his abilities - and that included his trust in his AIs. But even he had his limits. Reginald finished the last of his thoughts on Number Seven and had just flipped the cameras. Number Zero was stirring. And it didn't last long as a fearsome, anguished cry tore through the speakers and pierced his ears despite the low volume setting on the monitor as terribly as a tremor started shaking the mansion. The screen glowed a bright white as the chamber containing Number Zero was bathed in chaos, and so too was Reginald bathed in the now blinding light of the monitor's screen.

The light illuminated the fear flashing in his eyes. His face paled, only half a shade but it was enough to tell anyone who might have seen that he was intimidated. Scared. The monitor glowed brighter and brighter and for a moment he wondered if he should unplug the device. But he had no time to decide. The buzzing had grown too loud and a second sharper buzz that was easier to pinpoint came zipping in through the door on Number Zero's wire. A short circuit from Zero's chambers had eaten up the wire; a small spark that had traveled a long distance through the mansion and all the way up to the monitor it was connected to in the blink of an eye, frying everything. All his work. Gone.

He jumped back as several sparks emitted from the once glowing monitors. All that came from it now was plumes billowing smoke. And just as the dust settles, so too does the mansion as the tremors come to a slowing stop.

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'You know, you two of all people should be on my side here,'

Vanya chews the inside of her lip and her fingers fiddle with an old gum wrapper from where her hands sit in her pockets. She stands at the main entrance where she waits for the cab she has called. Meanwhile, her eyes drill into the black and white tile, and her mind failing to shake Diego's words.

'He might have had no problem using you for your power, more than any of us, but he still threatened to lock you up anytime he felt threatened by you. Like some animal.'

It had been years since their father had threatened her. Of course, it had been years since she had spoken to him, but heated arguments were not uncommon in the later years. And that was when the threat of a 'time out' spot just for her was thrown out most frequently. He never elaborated on it too much, and the more he spoke of it the more it seemed like an empty threat - her own personal boogeyman to get her to obey cause after all everyone knew he needed her abilities the most. But it seemed like such a specific idea; a special place meant to combat her powers and keep her contained if she got too out of control. Never mind the fact he never went through with it.

A soft pair of footsteps on tile approaching behind her tore her from her thoughts. Pogo entered and was wearing his usual hopeful expression.

"Don't waste your time," she smiles sadly. "Diego's right, I shouldn't have come."

A stern frown took over the old primate shockingly fast. "This is your home, and always will be." He softens. "Should I get you a taxi?"

"I already called one, but thanks."

On cue, the honk of a horn echoes from outside.

"And that's me."

Pogo catches her eye and gives to Vanya his most reassuring look.

"I hope you know you are welcome here any time, Ms. Vanya."

She nods thankfully, but sorrow still manages to sink her head to the floor as she gnaws once more on the inside of her cheek. "I appreciate it but," she shrugs, sadness hardening her eyes by the time she looks back at him. "I think it's better for everyone that I keep my distance. Fewer people to hurt."

Her sorrow seems to spread straight to Pogo, his face wearing in a heavy and pitiful frown. He opens his mouth to combat her logic, to reassure her but yet another tremor beats him to the punch.

And just as it had been doing more and more lately, the tremors pulled their attention back to the mansion and the mystery hanging over the estate. They eyed the shaking walls and all that clung to it until the world came back to a standstill. Simultaneously, their eyes met in a knowing look, and Vanya noted how grave Pogo's looked.

"Pogo," Vanya sighed. Unable to help herself - or find any will to hold back - Vanya threw her arms up in a shrug before they fall back to her sides. "Come on, what is going on? Wh-what - what is this? What is all that and why is it getting worse?"

the great pit sitting in Vanya's stomach twits itself deeper insider her when she sees a lifetime of remorse living in his eyes. His mouth parts and Vanya waits for the words she knows will never come. All he does is sigh his head hangs low to the floor in great sorrow.

Bitterly, Vanya nods as she swallows the truth she has been denying for years; Luther was not the only one Reginald's hooks had sunk into too deep. Even in death, Pogo was doing her father's dirty work.

"Right." She croaks, swallowing the lump growing in her throat.

She backs away towards the frosted double doors and nods to the only real father figure she had growing up.

"Take care of yourself."

She was gone through the double doors and we'll out of earshot when he managed to collect himself. Another tremor shook the house and he sent one last longing look past the tile where he envisioned his life's greatest regret. Vanya's words were still stuck to his mind by the time the tremors had stopped and slowly he picked his head up from the grounds and after the entrance through which the young woman had disappeared and whispered after her the words he wished he had been brave enough to say.

"You as well, Ms. Vanya."

The tap of his cane and the padding of his feet were amplified in the silence left after the tremor as he reached the entrance. The door stood ajar, and Pogo couldn't help but wonder to himself as he watched Vanya disappear into the taxi if she was at all suspicious of what really lied beneath. There was no telling, but all he could hope as he shut the door tight was that he had thrown her far enough off the scent.

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