The Beginning of the End

[umbrellahandle]

I. Reginald Hargreeves, Eccentric Billionaire

News of his death travels quickly. Within the hour it's being reported on television, radio and spreading like wildfire across the internet. By the next morning it will be plastered on the front of every newspaper and tabloid in America. Hargreeves is best remembered by the public as the man who adopted thirteen of the miracle children of 1989 in the hopes of training a team of superheroes. The Umbrella Academy and it's star members became a household name. Some have stayed in the spotlight. Some have fled. Some disappeared or died. Regardless, they're all coming home now.

The estate, which spans two city blocks, has 42 bedrooms, 19 bathrooms and a host of other amenities, such as extensive training rooms, a library, an attic, a laboratory, an infirmary and more, stands quiet. The mansion is spotless, cleaned to sparkling perfection by Grace's tireless hands. Even the ticking of a clock can't be heard inside, as Pogo has stopped them all in honor of his master. For the thirteen returning to the Academy the only sound they will be greeted by is the sound of a crackling fire in the parlor and the cold marble of Hargreeve's urn on the bar.

II. It's the end of the world as we know it.

The billionaire's death isn't the only odd thing happening this week. All around the world, odd things are happening that have puzzled scholars and alarmed occultists. A magnitude 7.0 earthquake hits Tennessee, causing the death of hundreds. A plague of rats hits Tokyo, causing people to fear the spread of disease and sickness. A cult in Mexico commits a mass suicide, killing hundreds because they believe the end of the world is approaching.

Coincidence? Or warning signs?

Comments

[throwsknives]

[ He catches the news as he's leaving the family he just saved from burglars. He stands in their smashed up living room, the burglars still bleeding on the white carpet and stares at the newsline rolling across the bottom of the screen. Dead?

Until this very moment a part of him thought he'd live forever.

His first thought is Mom. Maybe it should be strange that she wasn't the one to tell him, but he doesn't think long on that. After all, it's not as if there's been any love lost between him and the old man for the last thirteen years or more. It's not until he can hear the sirens approaching that he snaps out of his stupor and is able to move again.

He goes back because he needs to check on Mom and Pogo. Not because of any misplaced nostalgia or sentiment. He sits with her as she stares into the fire, turning the monocle over in her fingers until he gently pulls it away from them and slips it into his pocket. Pogo said it had been heart failure. That's news to him. He didn't think he'd had a heart.

He wanders through the house, the same but somehow even colder. He looks into the empty rooms, once overrun with children then teenagers getting in each other's ways. Eventually he finds himself in the parlor, using the moosehead on the wall as target practice and side eyeing the urn. One flick of the wrist would be all it would take to knock the urn down. Scatter the ashes all over the polished floor.

But then they'd never get rid of him. ]

[cplradar]

[When the news first started filtering through to the 4077th via those personnel who had radios or other immediate connections to the outside world, nobody thought to go and tell a certain Corporal O'Reilly - and why would they? Radar was up to his neck in paperwork, what did he care about some billionaire dying on the other side of the planet.

It wasn't until his CO overheard talk about it in the mess several hours after the news had first broken that the gravity of the situation was realised - the unit commander being the only person in the whole outfit who knew Radar's actual surname.

Less than a day later and Radar found himself unexpectedly signed off on compassionate leave and being shipped home with barely a chance to say goodbye. He hadn't even really had a chance to call home and let them know he was coming.

It's late by the time he arrives, the house is quiet and for a moment he wonders if nobody's there - until he hears the thunk of a knife hitting... well he isn't sure what, but that's not the important part.

He drops his duffel bag at the bottom of the stairs and peers into the parlor]

...Hey Diego...

[bestfuneralever]

[The all-too familiar twack! of knives hitting targets draws him into the parlor, already with a drink in hand.] Heeyyy, Diego. You're already celebrating, I see. [He perks a brow at the other man. He's always been one of the broodier of the brothers, but Klaus would have expected a little more excitement around here with the news. Is he the only one happy about this turn of events?!]

[stillfriends]

For Clint Barton

[ She still has a key, even after all these months. Having it and using is probably a line she shouldn't cross, but she does it anyway. She's never been good at boundaries, unless she's laying down her own.

His apartment is just the way she remembers it. Messy and maybe a little chaotic, but lived in and comfortable. Hers looks like a staging area, and maybe in some ways it is. She's never been big on belongings, though she has a closet of clothes and a bedspread that she rarely bothers pulling back. Home is a place to sleep and recharge. Clint's home is different though. He has pictures on the wall, arrows in their quiver by the back door, take out menus on his fridge and a pizza box balanced on his trash can.

She hears the key in the door and turns towards it as he walks in. He looks just the way she remembers him and if the set of his shoulders is any indication it's been a long day. She takes a breath and puts in a small smile. ]

I hope you don't mind. I let myself in.

For BPRD

[She's camped out in one of the conference rooms, pictures from the Mexico City mass suicide spread out in front of her. She's been working on deciphering the symbols they'd used for the last three hours and she's beginning to get a headache. Each member had a symbol tattooed on the back of their hand that when put together was the leader's last manifesto. It mentions the end of the world and the reign of evil. Usual cult bullshit.

She probably should've passed up this assignment. In fact, they'd asked her to, but it'd been too close to home for her to walk away from it completely. Even if it was all too easy to trade the cult she grew up in with this one.

She swallows, sliding the pictures away for now into a manilla folder. She'll come back to those. Right now, she needs four cups of coffee and a bite to eat before her head explodes. And maybe, a fresh set of eyes.]

BPRD

[theyellowbird]

It was a hell of a week to be working at BPRD. End of the world this, they were all going to die that. The internet was fueling rumors and fear, and of course it never took long for facts to be taken out of context. She wouldn't be surprised if people were trying to move up the doomsday clock to next week. Lucky her, she had a file filled with rats, disease, and hysteria that she needed to get to know top to bottom. Why did she like her job again?

Sara's intention was to get a few minutes of peace and quiet, and possibly take up a little more space than her normal working station would allow.

When she quietly slipped into one of the conference rooms, she wasn't expecting to turn and find someone else already camped out in there. "Guess you had had a similar idea." Sara's eyes looked to the table with the files spread out, though she was unable to see the contents of them from her.

What she could see was stress. Maybe caffeine deprivation. Possibly both. "Hows it going?"

[youshouldberunning]

[Liz had been on hiatus once again. Feeling as if the last mental break had been one that was too dangerous for the others to be placed in. A danger to her partners and co workers. To the other Agents that couldn't withstand fire.]

[When she got news of the earthquakes and plagues and such, she put a call in to try and talk to Abe or Red about things, but they were already dispatched to some location that was in occult crisis.]

[So she stopped by. Getting a wave from the guard at the main desk, and lowering into the secret tunnels of BPRD. Everything seemed to be in some form of chaos or another. People rushing around. People in hushed whispers and talking over things. She heard a lot of 'we have this' or 'it's covered.' to the point that she felt silly for showing up at all, like she might be needed.]

[She wasn't needed. She was needed to get her head settled and get back into the game though. She was sure she wasn't ready for any of that. Still, she wandered a bit while she was here. It was as she passed the glass conference door that she caught the red head in the room. Liz paused, then pushed the door open, brow raising as she saw Natasha push pictures back into a folder.]

They got you on a case already too, hmm?

[broken_arrow]

Another day, another dollar. When had his job gotten so routine? Or maybe it wasn't routine, it was just lacking something that made it a little less engaging as it used to be. That or his new partner just plain sucked.

All of the above, probably. But hey, TGIF and all that jazz.

Trudging up the last flight of stairs, Clint fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. Stepping inside he closed it behind him and shrugged off his coat, hanging it on the doorknob of the closet instead of actually, you know, in the closet. He was just toeing off one shoe when he realised he wasn't alone.

"Natasha," he breathed, expression comedically surprised. What the hell was she doing here? In his place? "What's wrong?" because what other reason did she have to be here? Something had to be wrong.

[bonicamagica]

Open To Pretty Much Anyone

So Hargreeves was dead. Bonnie had never met the man, despite living in the same city as his Academy. She'd avoided anything to do with them much like she had been avoiding Project Bravo. After reading that book that had come out a few years ago, she was aware that the thirteen of them that had grown up under his control hadn't had the best life. But she still thought it was better than growing up under Project Bravo.

Hargreeves was only one event in a series of many that had been causing her phone to never stop ringing. Rats, mass suicide, earthquakes. What did it all mean? She was being asked for her opinions, her views, to make appearances, and she was 90% sure people would even track her down at her store eventually.

The thing is, being one of the 43 mean she was always suspicious that events were less occult, and more one of the others. Or a group of others. Maybe they were warnings of the end of the world. Maybe they were also just attacks by something similar to Project Bravo.

She had just left a cafe that was down the street from her shop, a large, very strong latte in her hand, and had been stopped in her tracks by a newspaper stand. At the very front of the days issue was a picture of Hargreeves and the following article talking about his death. Bonnie couldn't quite place how old he was, but if she remembered correctly, he'd looked as old as he did in that photo for quite some time.

Slowly approaching the stand, she dropped money for the paper before picking it up and staring down at the cover. Were all those kids coming back to the city? The thought caused her to look up, as if she was expecting someone from Bravo to be staring her down right now. At this point she couldn't tell if that bad feeling in her stomach was related to her abilities, or if she was causing herself anxiety and stress over nothing.

Just because the head of the Umbrella Academy had died, didn't mean Bravo was suddenly going to make an obvious appearance in the city. She was just freaking herself out.

[the_crow]

He remembers Bonnie. She was one of the 16 year olds that he helped escape. That he intended to escape with, so long ago. he had tracked her down on mistake one day some years ago, still on with Bravo at the time, but he silently kept her location to himself.

She ended up being another on his list. A list of people he wanted to keep track of with out bothering. With out bringing the Project down on them. Now he had managed to escape as well, no longer part of the project. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to face these people again or not. He knows Bravo took her partner (and he knows he wasn't there the day it happened) but other than that he doesn't know a lot about what happened to her on the outside.

Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she didn't recognize him. At least he wasn't in his make up. Clean faced and long hair pulled into a pony tail, he stops at the new stand as well. But instead of reading his own news cover, he peeks over at the one she just bought. A low whistle. "I could have sworn that man was going to live forever. Face of a vampire, that one." He said in a smooth sounding voice, grinning.

If she does recognize him, it might be his youthfulness still shining through. The Bravo Cadet who would heal in the night time, or die and was reborn a day or two later. Eric. He helped a group of them escape and he fell behind. Even if she doesn't remember him, he remembers her, very well. One of the Lucky Ones.

[justlikeacircus]

Dick hadn't been all that surprised when his first assignment following the news was to keep an eye on the Academy - he'd been spending less and less time in the city lately with his missions, but when the news had broken he'd been immediately called back and he was fairly certain he'd be around for a while. He'd been with Bravo long enough to expect that.

What he didn't expect was to be walking down the street, on his way to figure out if the best stake-out spots near the academy were still optimal, and to spot a familiar face.

Dick had a complicated mental relationship with the escapees from all those years ago - he hadn't seen any of them since, and he sort of preferred it that way, because it wouldn't leave him with the uncertainty. He was loyal to Bravo, absolutely and completely, but those kids... they had been his friends, his family really, and if they didn't want to be part of the mission he didn't see why they should have to be. Bravo didn't need agents who didn't believe in the cause - at least, that was how he put it to himself. His mental gymnastics was sometimes as good as the physical kind.

Despite his own feelings, however, he had standing orders to report any project Bravo assets he located. He couldn't disobey orders, so now he was stuck - did he pretend he didn't notice her and avoid reporting her that way, tell himself that maybe it was just somebody who looked like Bonnie and couldn't possibly have been Bonnie herself, or did he try and talk to her and confirm one way or the other, maybe he could convince her to report in herself and that way he didn't have to worry about betraying somebody.

He hesitated, which wasn't something he did often, and watched her as she got closer, still undecided what to do.

[duelo]

Derek's reading when his phone goes off. He's not expecting a phone call tonight; Derek mostly keeps to himself. When he answers, the news throws him off for a long moment after he hangs up.

Dad is dead.

Some small, sick part of him resents the old man even for dying before Derek could prove himself and yet, he'd given up trying over a decade ago.

Dad is dead. That's it. Just Mom and Pogo in that gigantic house. It's that thought that has him dragging himself off the couch and packing an overnight bag. He's still in town, but maybe on the first night, Mom might need company and who knows when some of his siblings are going to make it back home. Allison's all the way across the country and, hell, Walter's not even on the same continent.

Diego will come, he knows that much. He's seen Diego more than anyone else, but that's mostly due to proximity and Derek's ability — and willingness — to keep drinking pace with his brother, get him back to Derek's place to crash out and then never bring it up again after Diego's had a particularly bad day.

Derek sees Klaus and Vanya almost daily, too, but they don't see him, so he figures that doesn't really count. He hangs back. Klaus is a junkie and Derek has to keep his distance to keep from beating the stupid out of his brother. He makes sure Klaus doesn't get himself killed, but he leaves it at that more often than not. He's been to every single concert Vanya's ever played in, but if she knows he's been to even one, he'd be surprised. He got the feeling that she wanted space from the entire family, himself included, when she'd left. He'd obliged, however much it hurt his feelings to do so.

So as much as he's going back to support Mom and Pogo, he's also hoping that the rest of his brothers and sisters will come home, too. He'd like a reason to see them all again.

The statue outside the house, of Ben, still makes Derek's stomach upset with guilt. He still pats the base of the statue with an affectionate hand as he passes and he still clenches his jaw against the urge to apologize for the umpeenth time for letting his brother down. If he'd been better or faster or had more control, Ben wouldn't have had to clean up his mess. He'd still be alive.

...this was a mistake.

Walking into the house makes him almost turn right back around and walk back out again, because it's still as dark and cold as it always had been, only now there isn't a herd of teenagers running around.

Weary feet carry him right back to his childhood bedroom and it looks the same as he remembers it, Fall Out Boy poster and all. Jesus...

[passedthedoor]

Wandering from her room makes it a short trip to find one of the various members of her family. She spots Derek in his bedroom - and she knows that he probably heard her already, considering the spectacular senses that he was 'gifted' with, so Sally isn't too worried about startling him too much as she leans in through the doorway, spotting that old Fall Out Boy poster, the bed, and the other various items that were left in the bedroom. It's weird how all of their rooms have been left the same way they were from the moment they left.

You could almost call them a shrine if it weren't for the fact that they weren't left together out of love or adoration. No, Sally's almost positive that they were left as they had been for another reason - maybe a hope that they'd all be back eventually, and step back into their old shoes, old teams - or something like that, anyway.

"You're totally resisting the urge to put on some Fall Out boy just stepping back here aren't you?" Sally greets her brother, impish smile slightly in place. Yeah, they're all here for a solumn reason, but it's just...easier for her to hide behind the humor. Everything here, in this house, with so much of their family, is just....too much to try and unpack not to try and inject a little bit of levity. "I'll dance with you if you decide you can't resist the urge, just so you're not alone." Sally winks, cheek and chest both against the doorframe before she pushes off and actually steps inside.

"It's good to see you - you run into anyone else yet?" Sally tilts her head curiously. It's really....different being here as an adult. It feels so bizzare being back, honestly. It's not comfortable, no matter how many years they spent here training, learning, and trying to be the super teams that their father wanted. Honestly, rather than feeling the pressure there's now an...insane emptiness that is somehow even more oppressing than before - just knowing that the old man isn't anywhere around.

She can't help but wonder how the others will feel...if they even come, if it's just her or a mutual thing. And she can't help but wonder if any of the rest of them have figured out how to feel emotionally. Because Sally sure as hell is still trying to figure it all out.

[bestfuneralever]

Klaus has only just gotten here a handful of minutes--or hours, who's counting, not him--ago and already has a drink in hand as he meanders through the house, trying to figure out who's here and who's still missing. He's made his way upstairs to wind through various people's bedrooms at absolute random, but one door in particular seems to be a bit ajar, so he makes a beeline for it. "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite beast-y brother." Comes the suddenly invasively loud voice of Number Four hanging in the doorway to Derek's room. There's a grin wider than a mile on his face if Derek turns to face him, the kind of thing that seems so entirely out of place considering the situation at hand. "Isn't it great? He's gone!"

[passedthedoor]

In her home, late getting home from the funeral home, and standing in the kitchen stuffing bits of slices of cheese into her mouth is where Sally was standing - what she was doing - when she was assaulted with the news. Both roommates had come running into the kitchen, catching Sally with her hand in the cheese-version of the cookie jar, but neither had really cared, too concerned with telling her what they'd both just seen - from the media - about her father. And right on their heels had been the phonecall.

Sally had polished off what remained of the sliced pepperjack cheese, with both of her roommates hovering, before she'd made the decision - mentally - that she needed to go home. Dad wasn't exactly close with any of them, save for maybe Luther, but even that would be pushing the definition of the word close. Still...he was her father - was all of their father, no matter everything else. That means that she owes it to him, his memory, or...hell mayb ejust her siblings...to be there.

It doesn't take Sally long to pack a bag. And she doesn't exactly pack much, considering she doesn't live too far - she's within a reasonable distance that in a pinch she could pop in and head back to the mansion. Not that she really anticipates that. Then again...she's not sure what to anticipate in this situation. There are so many different feelings hitting her all at once. And, for once, she's not the chatterbox that her roommates are used to. That's probably the reason that both of them hovered the entire time she was packing - and even went so far as to follow her out to the car before they accepted that she'd be fine...and that she'd call.

The drive gives Sally time to think, though. It's hard not to think about the fights. She's seen the guilt that comes with family members, even friends, working at the funeral home. In her case, though, it's different. She doesn't feel bad about the fights that she had with Sir Reginald Hargreeves. No, what she does feel is upset that there isn't any real closure. There isn't going to be a cap to the fights. There isn't going to be understanding. And there definitely isn't going to be any admission of wrongdoing despite the fact that dear 'ol dad did everything possible wrong. And Sally never was shy about making her thoughts on the matter known - even back when she'd still been in the house.

Several of them hadn't been. And now he's gone. And now Sally has no idea how to feel. She's pretty sure most of what she feels is concern - concern over Mom and Pogo - and wondering how her siblings are feeling. She's going to find out.

After parking, Sal grabs her purse and overnight bag and heads inside - the sheer size of the house coming back to her in a rush as she pointedly ignores Ben's statue and beelines for the door. Seeing her brother's likeness like that isn't exactly comforting for her - it's too hard, too cold, and none of those adjectives makes her think of Ben. Closing the door behind her Sally looks around, not immediately spotting anyone, but in this place it's never likely that you will immediately. "Hello! Mom? Pogo? Any other Hargreeves - I'm home."

The tone is joking, maybe to hide the awkwardness that she feels at being here - and fill the silent space withs omething. Something that Sally was more than known for back when she still lived here. After calling out and standing there a moment, Sally can't stand to stay still. She heads through the kitchen first - checking to see what's in there (probably more of a nervous habit than anything else, considering she doesn't actually grab anything) before she wanders. The next stop is to her bedroom - dumping her bags on the bed, and then around - checking the other bedrooms to see who else felt the need to come home and onward.

She's not sure if she's ever going to feel comfortable here, truly, again. Or maybe it's just nervous energy stemming from the shocking news of dear 'ol dad's death. Whatever it is that has Sally unable to settle she's going to go with it.

[cplradar]

Walter got in pretty late, he did come from halfway round the world after all, but with the time difference and the suddenness of it all he really doesn't feel like sleeping, but once he finished his conversation with Diego and dumps his duffel in his room, he also doesn't feel like hanging around there either - there are too many memories in that one little space and he isn't sure he wants to sort through them just yet. He hasn't even changed out of his fatigues, as though the camo would help him hide from the reality of the situation.

Instead he goes in search of any of his siblings, wanting to see all of them as soon as he can, and he wanders the house until he runs into Sally. As soon as he sees her he can't help but smile.

"Hey... I was going to go get a hot cocoa.. you, um, you want to come with?"

[number_seven]

How was she even feeling about this? Her father was dead. She assumed her siblings would be returning home for some sort of funeral, though there hadn't been any formal discussions. Did she feel sad? Maybe a little. Or maybe she was supposed to feel sad, and she felt more empty because of her lack of reaction. It was sad, in a sense. As bad as he was as a dad, the man had been the only one Vanya knew.

All night she debated if she would even turn up. Most of them probably didn't even want her there, especially after she published her book. But she had a right to be, didn't she? Would their dad even want her there if he could select who would show up?

The next morning came and the news was spreading like wildfire. The morning passed and it was well into the late afternoon before Vanya was finally pulling up the house in a taxi.

She hadn't laid eyes on the building in over ten years. Vanya made it a point to never come near it and avoid this area at all costs. It looked just as it had before she had left, no doubt kept in shape by Mom.

The cab ride had been a little over half an hours drive, and as she stepped out of it, handing the driver money, she knew that hadn't been enough time to collect her thoughts. There would never be enough time. But she was here now, so she might as well go in.

It had been years and years since she had seen her siblings in person. Allison was on her screen sometimes, and she received letters from Walter that she could never make herself respond to. There was too much to deal with and she had tried so damn hard to really move on with her life.

Vanya practically held her breath as she opened the door and stepped back into the house that she hated so much. "Hello? Mom?" her intention was to call out, but mostly it came out at a normal speaking volume. "Mom?" she asked again, taking a few more steps into the foyer. "Pogo? Anyone here?"

If anyone was going to be home, it would be Mom and Pogo. Maybe she'd already missed the funeral and then everyone leaving again.

[cplradar]

Walter finally got around to sleeping and changing out of his uniform, though out of habit his dogtags still hang around his neck. At least he doesn't have 'O'Reilly' splashed across his chest anymore and he wouldn't have to have that awkward conversation (again) any time soon. He hoped.

He'd not long woken up and was making his way down to the kitchen for a snack when he heard a voice that made him change direction, heading through to the foyer before he'd even stopped to think if it was really a good idea. Walter loved all his siblings, a lot, but he sometimes forgot whether or not they loved him a lot in return (he assumed they all did, even if they had trouble showing it, or at least he hoped they did.)

"..Vanya"

[duelo]

Derek is in the kitchen, making himself something to eat when he hears her and he looks up sharply. There's no way...

He'd been sure, however much he'd hated the idea and hoped he was wrong, that Vanya wouldn't come. In spite of the fact that she still lives in town, just like he does, he'd thought that she would've skipped this. She'd made it pretty clear that she wasn't interested in maintaining her family ties, which is why he's kept his visible distance, and it's a pleasant surprise that her voice echoes through the foyer as he abandons his food and moves toward the source.

It occurs to him only after he's gotten within her line of sight that maybe she's secretly hoping no one else is around except Mom and Pogo and maybe he should've let Pogo get it, since Mom's really not doing very well with all of this. It's a little late, though, as he steps out into the foyer at the mouth of the opposite hall having come in from the kitchen.

"Hey," is all he can manage. She looks good. Anxious, which is par for the course, but not worn down for it. He's seen her worse, that's for sure.

[notanybodysking]

CAFE

[The table outside at the cafe isn't the most comfortable, but it beats the coffee shops where his name winds up spelledin various variations of what the hell. Plus, it reminds him a little of home. So, even though the pastry is mediocre and the coffee is passable here he sits - newspaper untouched across from him and breakfast haul in front of him.

That's where he sits, sipping as the conversations around him all seem to take a turn to the same subject - Hargreeves, that nutjob who collected kids like baseball cards. The TV by the door is even beginning to gather a crowd with the staff struggling to search for the remote. Unable to help his own curiosity about the matter Vincent tilts his head to see the screen through the television and focuses on turning it up anyway, tapping his middle finger against his thumb absently as he counts the notches the volume rises.

As he listens to the news cast that same middle finger rounds on his thumb - he can practically feel his fingerprint as he does, but it's a habit. After the details of the death are all out Vincent turns his attention away, picking up the paper. And even though he leaves his ears peeled for the television and the people around him, he's ready to see what other news there is.]

CAMPUS

All around campuz - from students to faculty - everything is abuzz. He's heard the same talk not only in his office in the psychology building, but around his favorite bench, the library, and even in the dining halls. Everyone is wondering what the hell is going on with all of these bizarre incidences. And Vincent's phone has been in much the same state as the campus. It's rang, dinged, and even vibrated off and on all day. And every single person that has reached out to him has gotten the same answer from him - he hasn't got a damn clue what is going on, or if any of these things are connected magically or otherwise.

Current events have always been a big topic on any campus, even his former campus back home, but this is taking it to a new extreme. Then again earthquakes, rats, and mass suicides one after the other do stand out. So he can't really blame every student that's come in his office for starting off with one of those things here today. All Vincent can really offer is a psychological point of view on cult leaders and the cult mindset in relation to mass suicdes. And it's really not much considering he doesn't have all of the details that really would let him weigh in a more meaningful way. Vincent, true to the patient man that he's always been, engages with everyone who sparks the conversation with him.

Still, by lunch time he can't help himself - Grabbing a book just to doublecheck that he hasn't forgotten anything...knowing full and well that he'll probably get more calls. Being one of the leaders - even if he isn't anymore - back home had meant that people always turned to him. So he eats lunch peeking up from his book occasionally as people call out greetings, as well as just to people watch.

And by the time that the day is wrapping up that tome and about five others have joined each other splayed out on his desk - along with some other articles pulled up on his computer. Even if there isn't anything concrete - three omens is significant...especially when they represent the earth, disease and sickness, and outright death and power. As he packs up to head home, Vincent grabs a few things - figuring he can try a few more things once he gets back to his place. And he hopes like hell that the coming days don't bring even more because he can just imagine what people like those Project Bravo nutjobs might think of all of this.

Or even if they've had something to do with it.

{I swear on my life, I won't cry at your funeral » feel free to threadjack anytime in my threads

[bestfuneralever]

Parties, drugs, rehab, repeat. That's the life Klaus has been living for more years than he cares to count at this point. He doesn't like thinking too much about it or else he starts realizing how pathetic his life is and that just leads down a very tricky awful path that he doesn't want to deal with that at all. He's been out of rehab for all of about five minutes before he's walking down an alley to meet a shady dealer. One minute he's grabbing his next hit, the next he's waking up in the back of an ambulance high-fiving the exasperated EMT. He's barely been shocked back from the brink of death for a full minute when a breaking news report is on the mini-tv in the back of the ambulance. He blinks, hard, and leans forward to make sure he heard that right. Klaus waltzes into the Academy and makes no subtly about his arrival. "Daddy's dead, darlings! Who wants a drink to celebrate?" He asks, helping himself behind the bar with a liberal amount of whiskey poured into a glass. Just be glad he didn't drink straight from the bottle, people.

*handwaving what time everything's happening with... idk the magic of tv I guess*

[cplradar]

When Walter goes looking for his other siblings he somehow isn't surprised to find Klaus at the bar, and for a brief moment he contemplates finding a way to introduce his brother to Hawkeye, because they'd probably have a great night together.
Then he realises just how disastrous that had the potential to be with the two of them egging each other on and decides maybe he should not do that.

Instead he climbs onto a barstool and smiles at Klaus' antics - he does find his brother amusing when he's in such high spirits, however much he agrees with just about the entire rest of the family that Klaus should probably take better care of himself.

"You got any grape nehi back there?" it's not actually the kind of drink Klaus has in mind, being a soda, but he's never been a big drinker.

_{[I don't even know if they still make the stuff (though I did find a random amazon listing that even mentions it as what radar drinks in mash, which is frankly adorable) but I do what I want]}

For Carrie

[cplradar]

It's late, Walter's half asleep and pretty thrown off by the suddenness of it all - barely a day ago he was sorting through the camp mail and debating writing another batch of letters to his siblings, now he was on compassionate leave and halfway across the world and on his way home for the first time in... he didn't even remember exactly how long, all he knew was it had been a while.

So when he reaches the taxi rank outside the airport and sees there is only one cab waiting there, he makes a beeline for it without even really noticing if there's anyone else around, only to find himself reaching for the handle at the same time as someone else.

He looks up at the other person, a young woman, and he can feel himself flushing crimson even as he speaks.

"Oh, um, I'm real sorry miss, but do..uh... do you mind if I take this one? It's kind of urgent..." he feels horrible even saying it, when there's not another cab around.

[evewasweak]

It's getting late and there are entirely too many people in this place. Carrie always feels overwhelmed and anxious in crowds, because all she wants after everything that happened back in Maine is to just be invisible. She wouldn't even be here at all if not for the fact that she's being paid especially well to rush the finished garment to the client at the airport. She'd only just made it and now all she wants to do is go back home and crawl back into her protective shell, hiding away in the tiny apartment she calls home.

Sometimes, she ought to be more careful what she wishes for, as the man rushes toward her, grabbing the handle of the cab at the same time and Carrie jerks her hand away, ducking her head, a curtain of wavy blond hair covering her face as she curls into herself, arms wrapping protectively around her chest. He either hadn't seen her, or he just hadn't cared.

There aren't any other cabs this late and Carrie hugs herself a little tighter, because that means she'll have to call for one. Carrie hates being on the phone.

"It's okay," is all she can manage to force out, clearing her throat so that when she repeats it a second time, it might actually be above the volume of a whisper and he might hear it. "It's okay."

Elle Hargreeves (and D'artagnan the Demo-dog) - OTA

[thegirlandthemonsters]

Elle wasn't sure how she felt about Papa dying. Was it a sense of finality or a sense of loss it filled her with? Surely not loss. Never loss for the man who forced her into sensory deprivation tanks, just to strengthen the reach of her abilities. Never once for the man who got mad when her powers weakened her, treated her as almost useless because of it.

But it certainly wasn't finality, either. It was strange. It didn't feel done. It felt like...some kind of speed-bump, or just a weird moment of her life that she had to get through. But he didn't feel entirely gone.

It took her a day or so to get to the house, which considering how close by she lived was kind of ridiculous, but the truth was she wasn't sure she wanted to go.

She knew, however, that the others would be there. So she packs her four-legged Demodog into his carrier, throws him something to eat so he sleeps on the trip, and takes a Taxi to the house.

She stands in the foyer for ten, maybe eleven minutes before she sighs and starts wandering through. Taking cautious steps, trying as always to go quietly through the house, she listens for the voices of others in the house. Seeking them out to say hello.

To be around the family she would readily admit she missed.

But she wanted to be elsewhere, that much was clear in the nervous way she looked into rooms.

This place wasn't a good place. She didn't want to be here. Someone, anyone, try to calm her down.

[duelo]

This house always smells like resentment with a touch of fear. It shouldn't surprise Derek that even all these years later and even with the passing of their father, having the family back in one place — or at least, some of them — only makes the house reek of it that much more. It's weird picking up the scents of siblings he hasn't seen in entirely too long, but what's even weirder is that he can still catch the scent of that damn demo-dog a mile away. Dart never really liked Derek much, but the feeling was mutual. He never hated the thing, especially since it seemed to make Elle happier, but all the same, he could've done without it.

That familiar mix of scents — his sister's and the demo-dog — catch his attention when he's in the library and he finds his feet carrying him toward the new arrival.

Elle looks like the years have been largely kind to her and Derek offers his sister a small smile. "I didn't think you were going to come," he confesses. "It's good to see you, though, even though the circumstances could be better." H pauses when he belatedly notices the nervousness hanging in the air, just as thick a scent as the residual resentment that never leaves these walls. "Come on, let me make you something. It's almost dinnertime."