call me out!

[cyclical]

CALL ME OUT



choose a character
call them out: put their name in the comment header
leave a prompt (picture, music, quote, etc!) or blank comment
no smut please! but all other tomfoolery is a-okay

Comments

@imprudency: TUA S2 Spoilers

[wantedtobeloved]

They'd made it. Somehow, they'd made it home and for a moment she really thought that despite everything, they could pick up the pieces and move forward. Together.

But the moment was brief. They'd been confronted by their father and then the realization that the Umbrella Academy didn't exist in this future. She wasn't even sure if they existed in this future, and if they did it wasn't as siblings.

The rest is a bit of a blur. They'd ended up holing up in a nearby hotel that had seen better days, Allison using her powers to get them all rooms until they figured out where they stood. She'd been half-convinced when she woke up she'd be back in 1963, but when she opened her eyes she was greeted by the sound of muffled traffic instead of Sissy's rooster.

She got dressed, brushing her fingers through her hair before making her way out into the hall and knocking on Klaus's door across from hers. Knowing him, he was either dead to the world and would be for the next few hours, or had never gone to sleep at all.

[imprudency]

Klaus can't sleep.

Something about the itch of time travel that lingers under his skin makes it impossible to focus on anything other than the thumping of his heart in his chest. He only hears his heartbeat because it's wildly quiet in his head these days, and as much as he tries to wrench his eyes shut and close out the hiss of silence, he can't fall asleep.

He considered hitting up the concierge to see what miniature, useless bottles of alcohol they might let him pilfer, but he can't seem to drag himself off the bed. Sobriety had its perks, but he's not sure where the benefits fall here. But all's well that ends well and whatnot. Either way, he gets himself up for a smoke in his hilariously non-smoking room, and practically jumps out of his skin when the knock on the door rings through the room.

He answers it with a flourish, cigarette pressed into one corner of his mouth as he speaks around it, "Oh well top of the morning to you. Or I assume it's morning. What is time anyway when you're thrown into alternate realities as a past time?" He steps back and gestures, welcoming her in if she so chooses.

[wantedtobeloved]

She raises her eyebrows slightly at the cigarette, but the truth is, she's not that surprised. Klaus isn't exactly the rule-following type and if she were prone to smoking cigarettes she might be in the same kind of mood after the events of the last few days.

"It's early," she says apologetically. She probably should've tried to sleep a little longer, but the hotel room feels foreign and strange.

She glances at the room behind him. "Mind if I come in?"

[imprudency]

"By all means."

Klaus sweeps away from the door if only to kick his boots and jacket out of the way, leaving them in a crumpled pile on the floor. He'd done nothing short of throw his things on the ground before he crash landed into bed upon their arrival.

Reflexively, he snatches up the cigarette pack and offers it out to her. He doesn't suspect Vanya is the smoking type, but who knows, farm life could really change a girl, right?

"You'll have to excuse the mess, why I just never expect any company around these parts. Can I offer you a lukewarm water bottle and a Styrofoam cup? How's that for hospitality?"

[wantedtobeloved]

She follows him in, pausing for a moment before reaching out to take one of the cigarettes. She doesn't really smoke, but it reminds her of talking to Sissy in the barn and the first time she'd felt a real connection with her other than friendship. She holds it awkwardly between her fingers.

She smiles at him, envying the way Klaus seems to adapt to any situation. "I'm good," she says, sinking to sit on the nearest bed. She holds the cigarette up. "Do you have a light?"

She glances around the room, lingering on the no-smoking sign for a minute. "I wanted to see if you were okay." The corners of her mouth dip slightly. "I mean, as okay as we can be."

@ klaus 👀

[fika]

(x. ; x. ; x. ; x. ; x. ; x.)

sorry for this novella

[imprudency]

[ When they all join hands in front of the little farm house, Klaus fully expects that they'll make it home. There's something in the air, the resolve, the confident way they all link hands and wait on baited breath as Five cracks open the suitcase with the ease and confidence of a man who has done it thousands of times before.

The jump is the worst part, really. He remembers it from his trip to Vietnam and back, from the way they'd left the Icarus that fateful night in 2019. It pulls at his stomach in a way that makes it flip sickly in his gut, pulls in a way that sucks the air out of his chest. Though whether that's the actual act of time traveling or the gut-wrenching nerves and memories that he associates with it are up for debate.

When his feet hit the ground he almost stumbles to his knees but he catches himself on a table, fingers gripping the edge to keep himself upright. It slides, the familiar, smooth lacquered wood dusty under his touch and on the other end? A bowl of spoiled fruit loops slides and crashes to the terracotta tiles below, the solidified mush splattering every which way.

Home.

The kitchen is one he recognizes, but as he looks around, he realizes everything seems untouched. The power is off. The windows are cracked, smashed, covered in cobwebs and dust. The rotting pile of food is starting to reek and he pushes to the doorway, listening and looking.

Is the house empty? ]

Five? Allison? Luther?

[ His voice echoes back to him, hollowly bouncing through the vacant halls. Slowly moving through the corridors, boots plodding against burned rugs and holey, wooden flooring, he knows that somehow, they haven't made it home at all. Certainly not the 2019 they'd been hoping to return to all this time.

When he enters the foyer, just off the main sitting room where little Five's painting should hang, he stops. The painting has fallen, the roof overhead all but ripped off, and when he approaches one of the tall, blown out windows, he sees it.

Devastation. A city turned to craggy, empty holes, with nothing but brick and mortar and cement haphazardly jutting out of the ground where buildings and businesses used to be. His hands come up to his head, fingers sifting into his hair, knocking the cowboy hat askew. ]

Shit. Shit. Shit.

never apologize omg

[fika]

[ they were so close.

so so close, with that elation, that sense of accomplishment as the suitcase cracks open, the latch's resistance familiar under his thumb. they were going home, a swirl of temporal blue, calling to and bending spacetime around them all, starting at the epicenter of technology held aloft between them.

he knows something is wrong before he lands. the pull jerks him mid jump, he no longer feels the steady hands heavy on either one of his shoulders, and a harsh stab in his ribs knocks him into reality. it's a rough landing, because he's deposited into an upturned table, breath wheezed out of him as his side cracks against it, lifting dust and ash, greying his blazer and marking his hands.

it's the large, round table of the entry way, a familiar centerpiece of the foyer of the academy. heavy and broken though, split in the middle with a vase scattered into shards. dried, wilted flowers still litter around it.

its only after five lifts himself off that he notices half the building is blown clean off, great room exposed to an overcast sky, ruination laid out beyond it, all concrete dust and rebar.

his heart is hammering hummingbird quick in birdcage ribs - there'll be a bruise there later but that's so incredibly inconsequential. no, its the failure that hits him worse. hard and fast, evidence glaring before him.

its that gut-wrenching realization that here he was, alone. alone and standing in the middle of the same fucking thing and what the hell does he do now, how the fuck does he start fixing this and —

— he hears it. down the barely standing stairs, a yell of his name, of luther and allison.

he wastes no time jumping into the kitchens, to the source. it hurts, worn thin as he is, but he lands and makes a face at the stench of rotting food against his better judgement. in his urgency, he had blinked away just as klaus had made his way upstairs.

five spins around, dumbfounded and irritation on the rise. there's a scrape of debris upstairs, against the floorboards and he's just as quick to blink back up there, to find Klaus standing in what is left of their main room.

it stings - both what stands before them, and the relief that comes with seeing klaus standing real against the broken walls. ] Klaus —

[ Five doesn't have it in him to act cold, or controlled or collected; desperation overtakes him and he closes their distance and actually grips klaus by the arm, as though to check he's real. shit, shit, shit is very, very right. ] — I haven't heard the others yet. We have to look.

[imprudency]

[ Klaus wagers that he's seen the destruction of the world a few times before in the images that sprawl across the backs of his eyelids when he sleeps. Earth upturned, the heavy sound of artillery, gunpowder-filled dust cloying and thick and difficult to breathe around. Oh yes, he's seen the end of the world on a battlefield, in the vacant eyes of the dead, in the wails of their ghosts.

But this feels different. There's chaos in the landscape, the jagged teeth of buildings grinning ominously, the gaping maw of the city that should be standing, wide and hungry. The silence in the damaged house, the untouched cereal, the dusty, moldy cup of coffee still set perfectly upon its coaster.

With no answer to his calls, the fact that he's alone here almost brings him to his knees. It swells in his throat and chokes the air out his chest and he's about to make some poor attempt to swallow it all down when the hand lands on his arm. ]

Jesus, Five! [ But his hand turns to grip Five's shoulder in return. Squeezes it. He feels real. He feels alive under his fingertips but that doesn't mean anything, does it? Ben could do the same, once upon a time. Once upon a world where Ben existed and where Ben left. ]

You've gotta warn a girl before you sneak up on her like that. [ But the complaint is weak at best, because Five is here, alive, and he's very right. They have to look for the others. ]

You're the first one I've seen. We shouldn't split up, no matter what harebrained idea you have this time. Our track record is shit and I'd rather not play Russian roulette with fate right now. She's pretty pissed.

[ They had been so close. So, so close to going home, to starting fresh, to living a life as a tired, but whole, family. ] I was in the kitchen. Nothing there, either.

[fika]

[ he knows the feeling, all the passing emotions that flicker in klaus' face even as its all replaced by the surprise of someone sneaking up. but five sees the hairline fractures; he's lived with them too, swallowed them away in liquor and constant motion.

five cannot lay claim to being a good person, not with his shadows painted red with the lives he's taken. but it stings, in ways that he cannot even begin to describe, that klaus has to see this. that he couldn't do what he set out to do and keep them from being witness to this reality — their world in ruin. it's hard not to consider themselves the catalysts of it all. he has to find the rest.

failure, failure at their feet, i told you so a hissed reminder of a familiar voice in the back of five's mind.

klaus' hand on his shoulder is anchoring, and five doesn't move away right away as he normally would. ] Yeah — you're the first one.

We won't. [ finally, shuffling away, a scrape of glass and wood under his oxfords. ] Let's stick close, and — and see how much else is still standing. We landed here - the others can't be far. [ he can't keep looking at klaus' face, open and honest. or maybe he can't have him staring at his, as he grinds his jaw and tries to steady his breathing as he moves back towards the stairs. ] Careful going up.

[ he has the most incentive to stick close now - if the structure fails, he can grab klaus to jump them away. so he waits for him before he starts the tentative ascent. ]

@imprudency: TUA S2 Spoilers

[littlepsycho]

Time travel might have sounded glamorous but the truth was it was a pain in the ass on the best of days. Especially if you used a briefcase, which while more efficient and accurate than Five's own powers - at least in the past - still had it's own list of side effects. Up until now, Klaus had been the only one to experience those first hand, and maybe Diego - though Five still had his doubts about his "recruitment".

Add in the fact that he hadn't given himself nearly enough time to recoup from traveling back in time to save his family for the second time with his raw abilities after being mortally wounded and the result was that one minute he was fine and he next he definitely wasn't.

The faint throbbing at the back of his skull elevated to a loud pounding that made it hard to think through. Once they had found themselves in an alternate future, they'd settled camp in a nearby hotel. There'd only been a handful of rooms available so the girls had doubled up, then Diego and Luther, and him and Klaus. He was standing outside the door, waiting impatiently for Klaus to open it, when things escalated quickly. He barely had time to lunge for the maid cart parked in the hallway before he was sick.

[imprudency]

"Oh, shit. Who there, partner."

The hotel door makes a satisfying little beep and the lock whirs at the same time that Five so generously hurls the remainders of his insides into the maid cart. Not that he can judge his brother, considering his injuries (and considering the millions of places Klaus has thrown up), but he winces. He waits until he's done puking his guts up before he opens the door, propping it with a foot while he reaches for his brother's arm.

"Hey, hey, hey, come on, we can play vomit the surrealist painting once we're in our room, but out here, we're gonna get thrown out. And in case you haven't noticed, we might not be the fan faves here."

Even though his comments might seem sarcastic, and to anyone else they might seem biting, there's a gentle edge to his expression, particularly as he reaches to wrap an arm around his brother's shoulders, wanted or otherwise, and guide him in. None of them have had the time to address their injuries, to address the millions of questions they have since arriving in this fucked up, over-turned 2019.

[littlepsycho]

Five is panting heavily, trying to catch his breath as the world tilts. If it wasn't for Klaus's guiding arm, he's pretty sure he'd slump into a wall.

His feet stumble after the gentle pressure of Klaus's arm around his shoulders and he finds himself inside a dimly lit hotel room.

"Shit," he mutters as he feels his legs give way and he's suddenly grasping at Klaus's shirt with a death grip so that he doesn't fall. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if that will somehow fight off the paralyzing exhaustion trying to take over his body. "Just get me to the bed."

He refuses to black out in front of Klaus. He'll never hear the end of it.

[imprudency]

Klaus dips the moment that Five's knees buckle and he wraps an arm around his waist, hauling him back up against his side. Five isn't light, exactly, but it's certainly not like he's picking up a full blown adult, and that helps. He could probably scoop him up if he had to, but the bed's right there.

He hobbles with his brother, kicking the door shut behind them and helps guide him to the bed.

"Someone took a nasty hit to the head, didn't they? Or are you casually bleeding out everywhere like you were last time? I heard the stories don't worry."

But Klaus suddenly wishes he wasn't a little buzzed, even if that's how existed for much of his life. The fogginess of the alcohol wears off as its replaced with adrenaline and worry. "Gotta talk to me here if I'm gonna help you before you go all Sleeping Beauty on me."

[littlepsycho]

"Cast iron skillet," Five corrects, though he knows this is more than that. "Courtesy of Diego's ex."

He frowns at the comment about last time, not liking the idea that Allison and Diego have been talking about him to the others, but it's immediately replaced with a sigh of relief as he lays back on the bed.

The room doesn't entirely stop spinning, but it does slow down. He shuts his eyes momentarily and though he thinks Klaus is worrying over nothing, it does take him a huge amount of effort to open them again.

"Do I have to?" he asks, opening one eye to look at his brother. He sighs and opens his other eye. "It's nothing, Klaus. I just need coffee."

Simplified to it's most basic level, any kind of caffeine should help him fight some of the exhaustion threatening to wipe him out. He doesn't remember the last time he slept, let alone want to try to calculate how much energy that stunt in the barn took, but the important thing was that his family was safe.

For now.

@weaponizer !!

[fika]

( five whenever she is involved)

prompt: yolo

( desperation is an old friend, written into the sinews with near as much permanency as the self-loathing he's kept buried somewhere deep.

in the end, all that mattered - all that really ever mattered - was saving his family. damned be the actions he had to take in order to ensure that. he'd have to live with the rest, so long as they're alive and safe without a horrible world's end hanging over their heads.

so it's back to being a weapon the commission did its damn best to sharpen with a deal made with the devil behind closed door. it wasn't the only thing he'd have to do, not by a long shot and certainly not the worst of it. she comes with him this time around, whether out of necessity or out of blatant distrust.they're in another year, with the assignment being one that will push her closer to her old. whatever it is, he doesn't care. what he does care is getting this over as quick as possible, ignoring the building dread stuck somewhere in the hollow of his throat. just get in. take out the targets. don't think about it. it isn't personal. just ends and means. he doesn't look up at her, hands in his pockets. ) Really? Don't have anything more important to be doing than overseeing this?

prompt 2

( he isn’t sure how she found them, though he isn’t really surprised, either. there’s a reason she is who she is, and that’s because she’s good. batshit, makes his skin crawl, but good.

so when he hears a passing comment from klaus about being approached by a woman with the striking, vivid description of if cruella de vil had a frightening cousin, five’s blood is set to a boil.

he’s gone soon after that conversation ends, a blur of intent displaced through space before he finds her. because if she’s good, so is he.

he’s all wound hostility, rounding on her as he cuts her walk from an alleyway, hands balled into fists and looking just about ready to fist fight a god if he has to. ) The hell are you playing at?

Stay away from my idiot family, or the deal is completely off. ( this is the one topic, that achilles heel where he cannot stay impartial, vision tunneled on that singular point. gone is the cool professionalism of a trained killer. ) This is between you, and me, and no one else.

prompt: picture prompts: more generic, if the above doesn't work too well c:

(x. ; x. ; x. ; x. ; x. )

two.

[weaponizer]

[ Time travel is nothing but a flick of her wrist and the inkling of a thought an she can be anywhen, anywhere she likes. The Umbrella Academy and its constituents might as well be delicate pearls on an orrery at which she sits in the center, mechanically moving and manipulating each variable until the most perfect picture is set.

To think she'd let them play house in the 1960s without a little chaos would be foolish, but she played quietly, considering her own unfortunate mishap. A bullet to the head, the folly of Hazel and Chacha, the conniving, twisted work of Number Five: all of it has led to this moment.

She's wholly unsurprised when he emerges from the alleyway, all crooked arms and back, an old man stuffed messily into the body of a child. The upward curve of her lips is only exaggerated by the bold, red lip she's chosen. Subtle had been the name of her game with this timeline, until now.

Forgive her, if she couldn't help but play with the drunken Hargreeves, to give him the cheese with which to lead the mouse astray. How easy it had been. She pauses, looking down at him with the faintest tilt of her head as he speaks. ]

Consider it a courtesy call. Or insurance, if you want to be technical. Making sure all assets are readily available should I need to use them, for obvious reasons. The fine print.

[fika]

( he should have known better.

if he follows the trail - of clues he'd taken little time to note and categorize at all in the short allowance of it that he's had here - he'd wonder how he missed the rest of them. too much wishful thinking to expect her to stop at lila alone, or the swedes, and now it's all blatantly obvious and glaringly red and his visceral distaste for that color is of no surprise.

this is a game they play. it would be difficult to call it anything but, and for all the times he's outplayed her, she hasn't ever been far behind.

the fact that she holds so much over him at this very moment is a damn big loss. and from that smile, she knows it too.

just the same, there is a cold understanding that he cannot be in two places at once. it's tempting, to turn back around but that's too close to running so he holds his ground, all sharp and harsh angles, jaw set. ) Insurance.

( getting his family back into the timeline they belong in (and averting the second world's end in the process) was the only thing he cared about - and the knowledge that this deal would come back up to bite him wouldn't be able to stop that. still, he should have known better. ) Really, you want to start that.

This isn't insurance. You're just playing with your food.

You realize your hostile takeover is only going to work if I do this, right? ( actually, he doesn't even know that. but what he does know is that she needs someone to do the dirty work, and none of the commission drones would be able to do what he can. hanging on by a thread of advantage, that. )

[weaponizer]

[ The Handler seems wholly unfazed by his hostility, by the frenetic sort of desperation that comes from a man who's spent the last several weeks running from one apocalypse to another. It's a real treat, seeing him like this, all frayed at the edges and wild eyed. It reminds her of the man she met at the end of the world, greedy for a way out, but still searching for himself in the rubble.

She sighs, tired of him already. ]

Bold of you to assume I would hedge my bets on you and only you. [ Her tone is even, lilting, as though she's only talking about the weather and not casually dropping the idea that she could be utilizing other means in the event of his failure. ]

I don't play with my food so much as I arrange it. I like a pretty, clean plate, and I plan what I eat when so that I can enjoy it to the fullest. I have to admit your family is very entertaining, the drunk one especially.

[ She sighs and turns to look up and down the street. ] I needed to be sure you hadn't gone back on your word. As I said. Insurance.

so sorry for the delay!!

[fika]

[ he should pull himself together and deprive her of the satisfaction of seeing the cracks, the hairline fractures spindling across a composure stretched very thin as it is.

he only realizes he's biting the inside of his lip when he tastes blood.

the truth is, she's good at getting under his skin. always has been, in the years spent in each other's orbit, that scratchy itch between his shoulders he never could seem to shake. its all he can do to not bristle at her words. in the end, he still does. ] Not worried you'll choke?

[ he isn't opposed to the idea, particularly. his hands are curled into fist, knuckled bone-white, before he pushes out a long sigh. the worst of the deal was already made and he had every intention of carrying it through. why not offer even more, if it keep his siblings from being her playthings. none of them deserve that, for all that they are.] What is it that you'd need from me in order to stop you from going to them.

@somebadnews;

[imprudency]

The Hotel Obsidian has always been a strange safe haven for him, from the years of an unruly teenager to a washed up adult, the old carpet and antique, deco decor feels more like home than the tall, arching doors of the Academy ever did. Leaving dear old Reggie behind after days upon days of rigorous training makes the place look even more appealing.

He's learned something, however, and the idea that he has discovered something more about his power has left him buzzing with energy. He's exhausted, however, from the constant trips back and forth from life and death. Exhausted by the wailing of the dead and the ghosts he'd been made to face. But there's something about this place, this timeline - why would he learn about all of this now? Why is it important here that he harness the supposed "gifts" his father was so disappointed he'd never realize.

It's what has him thundering up to one of the bars in the back, the tender long gone, and at first he thinks he'll get a stiff drink - something to soothe the edges of sobriety and fatigue - until he sees Five. Five, looking too old in his young body and as he comes up to the bar, he slaps his hands down on its top.

"I'm back," he drones in a sing-song. "I have to show you something. Something incredible - so I was spending time with dear old daddy, and would you believe it he stuffed me in the trunk of his car, the old bastard. Come with me, come on," he reaches for Five's sleeve, gives it an insistent tug.

"Bring your drink, but - wait, where are the others? Actually, it's better they're not here. You won't believe it, but dad? Good old Reg? He taught me about my powers, about things I can do. Well, after he let me out of the trunk. And threw me into oncoming traffic, but no pain no gain, right?"

[somebadnews]

When Five asked where Klaus was and only got shrugs in response, he assumed that meant he was off doing something objectionable with the old man. Which is really a wild assumption, but when you're teetering on the edge of oblivion and contemplating the hellish nightmare of your future demise, it isn't all that farfetched that his brother would think this is the best time to bond with an alternate version of dear old dad.

He'd stopped trying to chase down his siblings every time they wandered off in the face of an apocalypse, and miraculously found out that if he didn't try, they eventually return all on their own. And he might have marveled over that revelation more had he not been on his third drink only to be startled into spilling it by the abrasive slap on the counter and instant stream of nonsense his brother started spouting.

"Hey—," Five swats him away when he tugs at his sleeve like an excited little kid until he gave in to whatever he's worked up over. And he could ignore him and continue his existential crisis in peace, but instead he steps off the stool and scowls up at him. "Alright already. I'm coming."

He leans back to grab his drink and downs the rest in one gulp, then snatches the bottle sitting out beside it. He dares anyone to say anything. It takes about that long for the part where Reginald thew Klaus into oncoming traffic to register, and he takes a moment to scrutinize him and his bad decisions.

"He did what? I thought you said he'd changed."

[imprudency]

"Come on," Klaus insists, gesturing for Five to follow him. He starts toward the elevators first, considering just how he's going to go about this. He hasn't had enough to drink, he realizes, after being experimented on and taught diligently by his father.

God, that's already something he never thought he'd say.

"Gimme that," he swipes the bottle himself, drinking deeply from it once then offering it back out to his brother as the elevator dings. "He has changed. Well, I mean I thought he was pretty much useless but turns out those Sparrows were drugging him. Keeping him locked in his little cage, but I helped him get clean. Taught him all the old tricks. Pill under the tongue, the old heave ho, you know."

He wiggles his fingers flippantly to his brother as the elevator doors open.

"But in exchange, he helped me harness my powers. Or, well. Get better at it. I had... I had no idea what I was capable of. Now before you judge or say anything, yes I know, I'm the family degenerate, I could be pulling your leg. But I'll show you."

He grins toothily, and when he speaks again, he mimics their father's accent: "Number Four, you are my greatest disappointment-- yadda yadda, I've heard it all. So come on. We're going to the roof. There's something I got to show you."

[somebadnews]

Five frowns, both because of what Klaus is rambling about, and for his regrettable decision to indulge him. He doubles down on his scowl when his brother doesn't ask before he takes a swig from the bottle he stole (and therefore had ownership of). Once he has it back, he takes a drink to help him through what sounds a lot like a problem he's going to have to deal with.

And he really doesn't know if he can take another thing going wrong. Whatever Reginald is planning, he can't fathom why it involves Klaus. Though he has to raise an eyebrow when he offhandedly mentions the Sparrows drugging him and that he, of all people, decided to get him sober.

It's a lot to process when he's more than a little tipsy and far too complacent as he shuffles into the elevator.

"Are you sure you didn't take those pills with him?" Sure, Klaus has been clean since the '60s, but he's practically bouncing off the walls right now. Or at least, it feels that way as he braces himself in the corner and the elevator springs to life. He's torn between wanting to shoot this down and wondering if he really did... train with their father?

More importantly: "Why the roof?" That should set off alarm bells, but he can't decide why. Something is very weird here.

[imprudency]

"Five," he gasps, offended, pressing a hand to his chest like some swooning damsel. "I am not on pills anymore, thank you very much, but honestly it probably wouldn't hurt if I was. Just my good old friends Jim and Jose to back me up instead."

With the elevator doors shutting behind him, Klaus selects the button for the roof and leans against the wall.

"But the roof will be the best place. Not as messy. No one likes cleanup. But it's incredible - do you ever wonder if Dad always knew what we were capable of but held us back? This guy here's totally different from Captain Asshole back home."

There's still a little unease in it, but the validation has done something to bolster his confidence in a way he hadn't realized he needed. They all yearn for the approval, whether they like to believe it or not, and Klaus has known that for a long, long time. He thinks to the boy in the mausoleum, scared and desperate for a tender hand. Their father was a cruel, unwavering, cold man. The one here likely has some of that bite to him, but what he's done so far is enough.

"But hear me out, okay? He's still unconventional, psycho dad with all his weird theories and testing techniques, but I don't know, man. I didn't think I'd be capable of anything else but being the family eyesore."

The elevator dings and Klaus waltzes out. There isn't sunshine to be had, it's gloomy and overcast with the oncoming apocalypse. "Hurry it up."