Chapter Text
He awoke alone.
Five’s eyes were blurry, his surroundings fuzzy, and his fingers full of static. All symptoms of a healthy nap, yet Five had never experienced such a thing in his sixty three years of living, so it was safe to say he had been drugged.
He attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes with his clumsy, ineffective hands, struggling to his feet and slamming into a cold, wet wall, his body shivering with… pain? Bruises along his body from the fights he had won in the sixties, a large red bump on his forehead from Lyla’s wicked frying pan, the unhealed shrapnel wound from the original timeline, scratches on his back from the bricks-
Finally, his gaze began to sharpen after an undetermined length of time, his body finally bowing to his needs. The room he was in was dark, yet clearly some sort of prison. Iron bars were wrought into the stone ground before him, and a small, barred window behind revealed some sort of vast city line.
“Let’s cut the bullshit,” Five lazily glanced up at the camera hidden in the corner of the room. It was nearly perfectly nestled within a cracked crevice, but Five had had many years of silent, perfect assassination attempts. He wasn’t about to be felled by some hotshot thinking they were tough shit. Five already knew he wasn’t captured by the Commission. As much as Five loathed to admit it, the Commission was intelligent. Five could already spot multiple ways to escape the room he was trapped in and his vision had returned mere seconds ago. “Tell me why I’m in this room, or I murder you all.”
A voice crackled from the ceiling. Smooth. Lilting. British accent that managed to sound somewhat empty. Fake. “You’re here under suspicion of illegal planetary travel, and potential city-wide destruction. I’m afraid nothing more can be shared until Sir returns.”
“Illegal planetary travel…” Did they mean the Commission? There was no way Five was incorrect, he wasn't held by the Commission. But perhaps his kidnappers were somehow affiliated with the time-traveling organization, and they were simultaneously referencing the apocalypse? “What exactly do you mean by that…”
“I’m afraid nothing more can be shared till-”
“Yeah yeah, I got that, I’m not deaf.” Five grumbled. He was beginning to suspect this strange voice was some sort of robot. Five had grown up with a robotic mother, and he could certainly relate the distinct note of dissonance in this ‘man’s’ voice to his mother’s calm, yet clearly fake lilt.
Five sat back on his haunches and gazed bored at the meaningless city-line below. He could’ve escaped at any point. There was a loose chunk of stone towards the bars that could be pried loose if Five tried hard enough, then used to slam through the window and out into the world below. Five had obviously attempted to use his powers only to be greeted by unexpected failure, which was likely something to do with the room he was in. That plan was a risky bet - considering his powers could just be malfunctioning due to being drugged - but it was a calculated risk and the odds were in his favor. He could also figure out a way to tamper with the camera in the corner of the room and create some sort of electronic pulse to deactivate whatever may be fucking with his powers and slip out of the building. But again, that strategy relied on the fact that there was something hindering his abilities within the cell. Or, Five could go for the simplest route and dislocate his shoulders in order to slip through the bars, which would be annoying, but doable…
The voice came through the loudspeaker once more, this time sounding far more real and human. Five narrowed his eyes. “Hello there, extraterrestrial, how’s it going?”
“Great,” Five deadpanned. He offered the smile he knew unsettled anyone who witnessed it towards the blinking camera. It was probably because the quirk of his lips belonged on the face of a much older man, who had seen wars and ended hundreds of lives. “I’m having an absolute blast.”
“No need to be salty about it, just precautions.” The man sounded smug, and Five itched to silence his annoying voice.
“Precautions for what, exactly?”
“Well, the resident Norse God of Stark Tower sensed death when you landed on planet, and spent three weeks finding you before shoving you in here and demanding we never let you see the light of day, so how about you tell us?”
“Norse... God?” Five was momentarily thrown by the seemingly random reference to viking mythology.
“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, everyone knows who Thor is, off planet and on.” The voice was definitely growing bored now, great. Five could use that to his advantage. “Now, you’re going to tell me what exactly your purpose is here on Midgard, and why you look like a kid who just graduated elementary school.”
“Did you never leave elementary school?” Five spat, growing slightly annoyed. That was probably what the mysterious voice wanted; an influx in Five’s emotions so he could manipulate him for personal gain, but Five had languished this dance before, and wasn’t at all worried about this interrogator's sublime skills. “Or are you just screwed in the skull?”
“Ouch,” That was a different voice, coming from farther away, higher pitched and snooty. So there were multiple people watching him. “You gonna take that Stark?”
Stark. Five didn’t know anyone capable of kidnapping him named Stark. An uneasy feeling began crawling underneath Five’s skin, as he came to the haunting realization that he didn’t know if his siblings had been captured alongside him.
“-and you can suck a dick too, Widow, don't laugh at my sufferi-”
“Do you have my siblings.” It wasn’t a question, really.
“Siblings?” The voice paused. “No… Thor didn’t mention anything about siblings, did he Barton?”
“Nope.” The other man - Barton - responded. “Though you probably should’ve said yes.”
“He’s right,” Five nodded sagely. “Trust me when I say that was possibly the only thing you could’ve held over me at this point. If I wasn’t curious about your peculiar insistence on fantastical terms and your odd robot Ai, I would’ve been long gone by this point.”
“Way to go Stark.” A third voice entered the conversation.
“Hey, fuck off! How was I supposed to know the creepy alien had attachment issues!” Stark complained, and Five bristled, ready to retort- “Hey wait, how did you know that Jarvis was an Ai?”
He deflated, somewhat pleased his calculated shot in the dark was correct. “A solid guess.”
“Great job Stark.”
“Okay, actually screw you Natty.”
“Language.”
“What, is screw an inherently bad word now? You’re dirty minded individual, Stevey, I didn’t know you had that in you-”
“Your prisoner is escaping.”
“-truly, I am absolutely flabbergas- what?”
Five had opted for the safest route. He wasn’t keen on dying just yet, and tampering with the camera would take time and brainpower he didn’t currently have. So, with a quick jerk of his arms and two identical loud popping noises, Five was out the door, grinning when the thrum of his power churned beneath his wrists, begging to be set free. Quickly he reset his shoulders, ignoring the twinges of fiery pain before blinking out of the room, only to be greeted by another world.
Tall, arching ceilings, wide glass windows, gorgeous intricate decor, what the fuck had happened with that stony, escapable, mockery of a prison Five was in seconds earlier?
“OI! You are NOT supposed to be out of that prison! Get back in!”
A short, well dressed man with a truly appalling goatee and a mess of scraggly brown hair was approaching, finger pointing accusingly and mouth set in something almost resembling a pout. Five instantly clocked him as ‘Stark’.
“What are you going to do about it?” Five cocked his head. “Kill me? Torture me? Shoot me? All been done before and here I am.”
“Wha- what the hell are you?” Stark didn’t make any move to approach, and in turn, Five didn’t make his tactical retreat just yet. “Dislocating both your arms isn’t an easy feat ki- extraterrestrial, and you didn’t even flinch. Does your kind, just, not feel pain?”
“I mean, do you feel pain?”
“Oh, you have no idea, honey.”
“Then yeah, I guess I can.” Five pondered the question for a moment more, acutely aware of the armed forces ‘subtly’ gathering behind Stark. “Although, I’d say I’ve become accustomed to the phenomenon over my years, so it would take a lot more for me to experience such a thing compared to the base-line human.” Like a frying pan to the face, punches from Commission trained individuals, and bricks to the back.
“Wait- hold on, let me unpack that, I haven’t had coffee yet.” Stark’s nose scrunched. “Are you implying you’re human?”
“No shit Sherlock,” Five deadpanned. “Now if you don’t mind me, I’ll be taking my leave before your very subtle reinforcements finish arriving.”
“No, wait!!!”
Five didn’t need this right now. He needed to figure out why the hell everyone thought he was some sort of alien, the weird Norse mythology references, the creepy way that… ‘Thor’ had apparently traced him based on a ‘sense’ alone, (could be bad, would be bad, especially in long term scenarios with his siblings-) and where the hell he was, period. The last thing he could recall was the sixties, the barn, Lila, the Handler, traveling back in time-
“What?”
Stark flinched back. “Look, I think there has been a major misunderstanding here. I know you don’t trust me - frankly, I don’t trust you - but clearly we’re both missing pieces of the puzzle. How about I call off the guns, and you agree to one conversation?”
Suspicious. Every instinct in Five’s body wanted to pull on the threads of time, create a sliver in the fabric of reality and escape this tortuous conversation. But Five wasn’t stupid. He knew something was wrong with this place, something severely odd. He needed to find his siblings fast, but he supposed he could entertain a few moments of conversation. Besides, Five could handle himself if things got sticky.
“Fine.” Five made sure to glare, putting his untempered anger into his stare, delighted when Stark shivered slightly, muttering “god you are creepy kid” underneath his breath.
Stark led him through extravagant hallways, and Five refused to allow any awe cross his face. He wasn’t going to lie to himself and pretend like he didn’t grow up in a luxurious household. Sure, Sir Reginald Hargreeves may have been a piece of shit, but he had seen finery of the highest caliber before, and wherever the hell he was currently trumped all of that tenfold.
They arrived in a lounge-room, and Five bristled at the three strangers displayed in various states of preparation on the large, lavish couch in the center of the room. He turned accusatory eyes towards Stark, who ignored him and strutted into the room with almost as much sway as Klaus, which was certainly saying something. “I have arrived with the cargo who claims he is not an alien sent from hell to destroy us all! He has agreed to one conversation before he dips, so let's go, questions.”
Credit where credit was due, the three strangers wasted no time standing up with a motley of weapons held. Five narrowed his eyes. A lithe redhead with twin knives, a sandy-haired man with his fists raised, and a blond with a red, white, and blue shield, raised star in the center-
“Your patriotism is disgusting.” Five noted, turning up his nose at the gaudy colors. His opposition faltered.
“See! He knows things aliens wouldn’t know!”
“Trap. He could’ve been observing us for a long time and learned our mannerisms.” The redhead had a point. If Five were in her shoes, he would be asking the same damn questions.
“She’s right.” Five nodded. “Though if I were, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to compromise my guaranteed escape for a stupid, meaningless conversation that will likely get me nowhere.”
“..I like this kid,” That was Barton, wasn’t it? “Where did Thor find him?”
“Not a kid.” Five crossed his arms petulantly, edging towards the corner of the room while Stark flopped next to the shield-wielding blond. “Now ask what you want to ask and give me my answers so I can leave.”
“Tetchy!” Barton grinned. “Alright, twenty questions, let’s go, what’s your name?”
“Five, have any of you ever heard of the Commission and-”
“Wow, calm down.” Stark held up a hand. “Slower- did you just say your name is Five?”
“And?” Five hissed. Damnit, this was a waste of time. He wasn’t going to learn anything useful from this pack of imbeciles.
“...How was your childhood, very normal human boy?”
“Answer my question first.” Five demanded.
Surprisingly, it was the redhead who spoke up. “We’ve never heard of any organization called the Commission.”
Five felt relief flood his body. He entertained the idea that the redhead was lying momentarily, but dismissed it almost instantly. What usage would these incompetent kidnappers get by lying to him? Besides, none of them had any recollection dawn upon their faces when he gave his name, and anyone even slightly associated with the Commission knew his name. Five hadn’t realized he was ignoring the unwanted company, which had - for some inane reason - prompted one very brave individual to approach him and gently poke his cheek. Words were being said, but Five couldn’t think over every assassin instinct in his body going haywire, his hands moving on autopilot.
In seconds, the sandy blond was on the floor, breath leaving him in a woosh as his eyes blew wide in surprise. “What the fuck kid?”
“I’m done playing games,” Five snarled, shaking the man. He registered his enemies in his peripherals, offering them a sharp smirk while increasing the pressure on Barton’s neck. They were falling still in seconds. “How about we make a new deal? You answer my questions, and if you cooperate, I'll think about responding to yours?”
“Bring the demonic thirteen year-old potential alien to the lounge,” The shield-man spoke up, pinching his brow. “It’ll be a great idea, he said.”
“Oh shove it Steve.” Stark glared. Shield man was Steve. More names, more things he needed to catalog.
“Shut up.” Five snatched one of the knives he always kept on him, pressing the blade firmly against Barton’s throat. The amusement in the posse’s expressions vanished. Good, they finally realized Five was willing to murder them all. “What year is it?”
“In earthen terms, or wherever the hell you’re from-”
His knife dug further into Barton’s chin, and the man yelped. “Give the bastard an answer Stark, there is no way I’m dying to a child!”
“Not a child,” Five grumbled. “One last chance, what year is it?”
“2015.” The redhead said, her eyes sharp. She seemed to be watching him more closely compared to her companions, yet poised to attack just like Stark and Steve. However, there was something about the way her body curved like a weapon, her hands gracefully splayed over the hilt of her dagger with pure confidence, because she knew she was too good to miss, to mess up-
She was an assassin. It was obvious. Five blamed his slow reaction time on the drugs and whatever the hell he had done to get to this place. That was interesting. The redhead was sizing Five up just as effectively as he was to her. She had claimed to not know the Commission, and Five believed her. Her poise wasn’t the effectiveness the Handler forced you to become. She was graceful, like a ballerina. Not sharp, like the cut of a blade.
“Why do you want to know?”
2015. Five paused his assassin musings. He was in 2015, which meant he had somehow traveled forwards in time. How though, how had he come back from the sixties? His mind tried to grasp for details, but the flickering beginnings of remembrance faded just as quickly as they had arrived.
“None of your concern.” Five spat. “Now who are you guys?”
All four paused. Even Barton stopped writhing beneath Five’s steady hands to gawk.
“I’m telling you, off planet!” Steve jabbed his fingers towards Five. “He doesn’t know about the Avengers!”
Avengers. What the fuck was an Avenger? Five was in the apocalypse during 2015, but he had access to the Infinite Switchboard after being ‘rescued’ by the Handler, and he had never heard anything about ‘Avengers’ whatever the hell that meant. Five was trained to keep his emotions at bay, but it was clear some of his confusion still shined through.
“I’m not from another planet,” Five began, irritated. “I’m from Oklahoma. Besides, you’re not making sense. Just earlier you claimed I had been lurking among you humans for years to gather intel to impersonate the homo-sapien race, but I obviously have no idea what an ‘Avenger’ is, which means your earlier point is null and therefore I am very obviously a human. Now, answer my question. What the hell is the Avengers?”
Steve’s mouth gaped open. Stark let out a surprised laugh, and the redhead stood still, her eyes roving his body- assessing his capabilities as a fellow assassin. If she were any good at her job, she would know Five had fighting proficiency, and was likely a massive threat to her and whoever the hell these incompetent a-holes were. So, he dug the knife in deeper at the resounding silence that greeted his declaration and sneered.
“I do not have all day for this, tell me what I need to know or I slice your friend's neck.”
“You wouldn’t.” Steve said boldly, and Five grit his teeth. God, it was ironic how Five’s power revolved around time, yet he never seemed to have enough of it. “If what you say is true, you’re, what, a twelve year old? Do you even know how to use that?”
Anger. Five knew his body was a critical miscalculation on his part, but god, it stung deep every time someone underestimated him because of his stupid baby-face.
“First of all,” Five began, taking measured breaths so he didn’t kill his hostage without anything in return. “You’ve called me thirteen and twelve in the span of minutes, and I am neither, but the least you could do is pick a lane and stick to it. Second of all, I am very confident I can wield ‘that’ better than everyone in this room and outside of it, and I really, really would advise against testing that theory. Now-”
“Really,” Stark laughed, interrupting Five. Barton was silent beneath his grasp, privy to the roiling anger on Five’s face. At least someone knew how to shut up. “You think you can wield a knife better than Natasha-”
Natasha. Names for everyone in the room. Damn, they were so horrendously awful at this. “What, you mean the assassin?”
The room paused. Five offered a lazy grin.
“How did you know that.” It was Barton who spoke, anger coloring his tone. “Do you work for Shield?”
“Shield?” Information, but useless tidbits, because what on earth was Shield? Did it have something to do with Steve, who clutched his painstakingly patriotic shield to his chest? “No. It’s just stupidly obvious.”
“You’re one too,” Natasha finally spoke, her voice honeyed. Five suspected that was how she caught her prey, with a sweet seductive purr and a flash of skin. It was honestly too easy. “I can see it in your stance. No one stands quite like we do, Five.”
“No way Natasha, he’s not even a teenager-”
“I’m done with this.” Five strengthened his grip on Barton, dagger pressing deeper, blood dripping from the wound in steady rivulets, careening down the scarred flesh of the man’s throat. Five took only a moment to prepare for multiple things, his escape when this man’s friends retaliated, the distance and location he needed for his jump, the blood that would be dripping off of his face again- no more killing-
“You’re from an alternate reality, aren’t you?”
Pause. Five swiveled his head towards Stark, who was staring at him in a new light. Natasha was two feet away from him, ready to stab his back once he finished off Barton. She wouldn’t be expecting his jumps though.
“What?”
“Either that or you time-traveled,” Stark said. Maybe Five had underestimated the man’s cognitive thinking skills, because how the hell had he achieved an answer that was, quite literally, the truth? “It’s obvious. You were right, there’s no way you’re from another planet, I can tell. You know nothing about the Avengers, but you know simple things, like the American flag and what Oklahoma is. So why don’t we put the knife down and talk like civilized humans, so we can explain our side of the story, and you could explain yours?”
Trap. Natasha was still behind him, Barton breathing heavily below him. It would be so easy to slash the man’s throat and blink, taking out the frozen Steve and the lumbering, clueless Stark. He could do it and figure out how the hell to get his siblings on his own, like he always had. He could do it. It was so simple.
Five sighed.
“Try anything and I gut you all.” Five slipped off of Barton, instantly marching towards the other corner of the room and sitting down, raising an eyebrow. “Talk.”
“Hold it, this is a mutual exchange,” Stark chided. “I want to ask first.”
“I don’t hav-”
“Why are you named Five?”
Fine. It was an easy question anyways. “Because daddy dearest isn’t the most creative of people. My turn. What the hell is an Avenger?”
“We’re superheroes.” Natasha said. She was back on the couch, cradling a whiny Barton on her lap. Pathetic. Five wouldn’t even be flinching over a small nick to the throat like that. Then, he fully registered what Natasha had responded with and laughed, a cold, harsh thing that had his throat aching. God he was thirsty.
“Superheroes. That always ends well.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Is that your question?”
Why hadn’t he just murdered them and been done with it? Why was he reclining against this stupidly expensive wall and actually responding to his prey? Why was he turning goddamn soft when his siblings needed him to be their silent protector, someone who was willing to do shit for them no one else would?
“Yes.” Stark said decidedly, after a silent conversation with Steve and Natasha.
“Fine.” He supposed this would prove the alternate reality hypothesis. “Have you ever heard of the Umbrella Academy?”
Blank stares.
“Is that some sort of hippie band?”
Okay, it would take talent these four individuals did not have to replicate the earnest confusion currently dancing across every expression. Fuck, the creation of the Umbrella Academy was publicly announced to the entire world in the late 1900’s, there was no way these people wouldn’t have heard of its existence-
“I’m in an alternate reality,” Five mumbled to himself, the true gravity of his situation hitting him like a sack of bricks. Trust him, he knew what those felt like. “Oh shit.”
“Five? You good-”
“You’ve never heard of the Umbrella Academy. You’ve really never heard of us.”
“No…” Tony said slowly, eyes flickering between him and Natasha. “Should we have?”
“Okay.” Five could not have a mental breakdown in front of four strangers, one of which he had tried to murder less than a minute ago. How had he even managed to end up in this alternate reality? There was no way it was an extension of his powers, he can’t have another finicky, math based ability. It was likely the Commission's fault, because in the end, everything always boils down to the Commission. “It appears I actually am in an alternate reality.”
“...what.”
“The Umbrella Academy was a group of six super-powered individuals, who used their abilities to stop crime and ‘save the day’,” Five narrowed his eyes. “The children debuted in 1997, the event publicized to the entire world. If you really have no idea of its existence - considering we are in 2015 - I have somehow managed to find myself in another reality, which-” Five cut himself off.
He needed to leave. He needed to find a permanent place to stay so he could begin calculating how to get back home to his siblings. Home was sort of a subjective word, but Five digressed. He would need notebooks, whiteboards, and room, loads of room to figure this out. The numbers were already pouring through his head, calculations and equations dancing through his skull as he silently pondered.
“...Five?”
“Thank you for your answers,” Five replied blandly, shoving hands in his schoolboy shorts and turning to blink away. “You have provided me with necessary information, so I won’t end your lives just yet.”
“Hold on-” Steve started to race forwards, but Five was already gripping his frenzied ability, barely grazing the bursting vault of energy before tumbling out in a cramped storage closet, his bruised back hitting the wall painfully.
“Shit,” He grumbled. His side was aching again, like it had been for the last busy week. He needed time to rest and heal his wounds, time, always more time, never enough of it-
“Jesus, what the hell was that?” Barton. Why was Barton speaking-
Ai. Ai in the walls. Five had miscalculated, and a feeling of shame burned deep in his stomach. “A ripple or distortion of time and space.”
“...Say what now?”
“Fuck the simple minded,” Five groaned, allowing himself one brief moment of agonizing pain before shutting down, face turning into a cold, blank slate. “I fucking teleported, dipshit.”
A very faint language came from somewhere in the room, and suddenly Stark was speaking. “Look Five, I may be an emotionally stunted asshole with daddy issues, but I’m smart. You clearly don’t belong here, and obviously want to get back home to your siblings. So, I’ll offer you a deal. You can stay here, in the tower, and in turn be granted all the resources necessary for your research, and will be provided with a comfortable room and the obvious essentials. All I ask in return is to study your ability, and you in general. You see, I’m a scientist, and the idea of alternate realities is really fucking cool, and I-”
Flashes of masked faces, stainless steel scissors, cold metal cylinders, pain, the Handler, the Handler all rose to mind, and Five fought the urge to puke. It was a great deal, something so astronomically unbalanced that Five was instantly poking Stark’s ramblings for holes, things the man specifically left unsaid to exploit him. It was clear what Stark was sugarcoating when he said ‘study your ability’. Five had heard that excuse plenty of times, and had only experienced what that meant once. He had handled himself on the Commission's cold surgical table, and he could handle whatever this strange universe had to offer. Studying him in general could mean many things, but it was likely relentless questioning about his reality, which was fine, because not much nefarious could be done with that information, since none of them knew how to transcend dimensions.
“...fine.” Five mumbled, certain the stupid Ai picked up on his quiet acceptance. “Clarify obvious essentials.”
“What? Yes? Wait, okay, umm…” Why did Stark sound awkward? This was a simple business transaction, not an adoption for Pete's sake. “Food, water, toothbrush, clothes, Natty! Anything I’m missing?”
“Recreational activities.”
“Right! Entertainment can be provided if you ever get bored and-”
“Stop blathering like an idiot,” Five grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. Pain was a construct that he didn’t need to feel. His side was not screaming in pain, and his body was not aching with a passionate desire for sleep. Thinking was believing, and Five had had many lonely years to practice the art of disappearing within one's skull. The closet's ceiling was low, which made it all that more depressing when Five’s head didn’t even scrape the top, and he was forced to witness his short stature in full stop-motion. Five had never been the tallest old-man due to his stunted apocalypse growth, but he had at least been taller than what, negative four inches? “Prepare yourself.”
“Prepare? Prepare for wha-”
His fingers clenched, and everything was blue, his vision, his fingers, his body, his eyes-
“Where’s my room?” Five glared at Stark, who turned around comically, mouth dropping open and eyes shining with fever Five had only seen on foolish people’s faces.
“Huh?”
“Room,” Five replied blandly, as if he were speaking to a two year old. “My chambers, my quarters, my accommodations, my lodgings-”
“Alright, we get it smartass,” Stark groaned. They were in the lounge again, the room just as refined and beautifully modern yet still artistic as the last time he had seen it. However, it was just him and Stark in the vast space this time. “Just head to the right and into the elevator, Jarvis should do the rest.”
“Who?”
“The Ai.”
It had a name? That was awfully sentimental of the billionaire, but Five supposed Reginald had named his ‘wife’, so he didn't really have a leg to stand on.
“Fine.” Five mumbled, already ticking through his to-do list. He didn’t trust this deal as far as he could throw it, which was not very far at all, since it was an exchange of words. He would need to de-activate his room for cameras, and sweep all of the annoying locations, like underneath his bed, and behind paintings. He would need to check the room to make sure nothing was going to kill him, there were no easy hiding spots for an assassin to lurk in and murder him while he slumbered, that he wouldn’t-
“Well that’s great! Glad we could come to an agreement, I’ll be-”
“Stark.”
He turned.
Five was right behind him, whispering cruelly into his ear. “You try and fuck with me in my sleep and I castrate you then give you the satisfaction of watching everyone you love die, while slowly suffering the same ending yourself.
“I would do it slowly. Rip you apart limb from limb and have you screaming.” Five’s eyes glinted dark in the light. “And that would be the kindest option, the easiest path you would walk, understood?”
Stark did nothing but turn once more and raise a brow. Walls. Five was well-versed in the subtle art of emotion, and the front Stark put up was good, but not good enough for him. Stark was annoyed, not at Five, but at himself for being spooked at Five’s gruesome declaration, which was almost the intent, but Five would take what he could get at this point.
Offering a creepy smile, Five Hargreeves blinked out of existence, wisps of blue sparks following his departure.
Behind him, Anthony Edward Stark could only blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. He would’ve broken the barrier and blinked four times if he could think of the damned word for it. “So, is he a fucked up likely abused teenager or what?”
“What were we expecting?” Clint Barton materialized out of the kitchen, Hello Kitty band-aid placed haphazardly underneath his chin. “You collect the fucked up children of our generation like pokemon.”
“I do not!” Tony said with all of the dramatic oomph in the world. “Natty, tell me this isn’t true.”
“You do have a type Tony.” Natasha appeared behind Clint, cradling a steaming mug and letting loose a soft smile.
“Okay, don’t word it like that.” Tony grumbled petulantly. “It’s just- there’s something… off about that kid. He’s smart, whip-smart, I can already tell. And his eyes are just so cold, and his threats,” Tony shivered. “I may be a wuss when watching horror movies, but I can tell you that boy will follow up on every word he spoke.”
He was greeted by silence.
“Guys?”
“We should get the adoption papers ready,” Clint mused, snatching Natasha’s mug and downing half of it. Natasha did nothing more than roll her eyes and sigh, which was truly the epitome of friendship. Natasha would’ve kicked him in the balls if he tried to steal her tea. “He’s already psychoanalyzing the traumatized boy.”
“The audacity-”
“Agreed,” Natasha blew over Tony, responding to Clint. “Would a receipt from the grocery store with the smudged pen words ‘child yes/no’ with two boxes suffice?”
“You are perfect.”
“Umm, hello, another person in the room?” Tony scoffed, moving towards the couch and flopping down on it, rubbing a weary hand on his forehead. “This has been an eventful day.”
Tony had been shell-shocked when Thor barged through his glass window, spraying shards everywhere and demanding they shove the young boy flung over his shoulders in the dark power-suspending prison Tony had created for powerful criminals a while back. They had all argued, but Thor had explained that this boy was bad news, and refused to elaborate. Hearing Jarvis’ notification that the boy had woken up was startling - considering he had been unconscious for weeks - but the speed and intelligence and dangerous attitude the boy exuded was even more strange. Tony had deduced there was no possible way this boy was human, no child wears such an expression, but Tony had been proven wrong effectively.
The boy was silver-tongued and deadly.
He had flipped Clint in seconds, and had marked Natasha as an assassin within moments of observing her fighting stance.
And his name, god, who the hell would name their child Five?
His thoughts were interrupted by Steve, who had returned to the lounge. “I don’t trust him.”
“Get in line,” Barton muttered sourly, rubbing at his throat.
“Oh come on, he’s a child-”
“Tony, we all know your insistence on adopting traumatized teens to make up for your own childhood, but you need to look at the bigger picture right now,” Natasha spoke, her words calm. Tony gasped.
“Wow, you know how to hit where it hurts sweetie-”
“That boy is an assassin. I know you didn’t believe me originally, but I can promise you, he is just as talented, if not better than me, and that is not good, considering he can also teleport,” Natasha wrinkled her nose, blazing past Tony’s complaints. “I don’t like the idea of him in the tower, but ultimately, it was your choice, since it’s your home. So if you’re going to keep a deranged psychopath in the attic, make sure you know what you’re getting into, and be prepared in case things turn for the worse.”
Tony… was confused. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the right word for it, but he was feeling very mixed emotions. The urge to defend Five was strong, but Tony attempted to look at the situation logically. Natasha was right, as per usual. The child was deadly. Five was likely going to be stuck with them for a long time, since traversing different realities was something thought impossible up until ten minutes ago, so Tony would need to take precautions.
“Yeah, got it Natty,” Tony smirked, knowing damn well it didn’t reach his eyes. “Trust me, I got this. Just… don’t tell Thor I let his murder baby free.”
“...That’s a horrible nickname.”
“I know, it’s perfect, isn’t it?”
And just like that, Anthony Edward Stark had inexplicably gained a new child.