Chapter Text
Quentin’s first solo mission for the Corrections Department ought to have been routine. Checklists have been checked. Weapons readied. And intel triple checked (at the very least) for accuracy.
But something or rather someone (and by someone, he means not him) fucked up.
It was supposed to be easy.
Get into the target’s phallic compensation of a tower. Check. The target’s son went to an elite prep school. Having decided to invite everyone from school for a Halloween Party (all the more to showcase the family wealth and connections), it made it easy for Quentin to blend in. The Commission got him a replica of the Umbrella Academy uniform and domino mask. Just goes to show how low tastes would go with that time’s latest craze in super powered hero-wannabes.
Find the target and kill him discreetly. Check. The target was alone in his office and too preoccupied with his papers. Quentin was amazed the man could even concentrate given the racket his son’s party was making. One swift slice from ear to ear, a spatial jump to another position and a stab to the heart. That was all it took to bring the mark down without a fight.
It all went wrong when it came to the exit strategy.
He was supposed to go down the fire escape and get to the nearest payphone to signal an extraction. All with no one the wiser.
Quentin never got the chance because as soon as he left the office, a bunch of armed, masked men blocked the exits and told everyone to get on the ground.
And because he was the only kid in a domino mask and what looked to be an Umbrella Academy uniform, the masked goons decided to open fire on him. He managed to teleport out of the way of most of the bullets. But one grazed his arm.
Pissed. He jumped near one shooter and used him as a body shield.
Fucking Umbrella Academy. How lethal were those kids for these thugs to use deadly force on the get go?
If anything, the drizzle of bullets became a storm strong enough to force Quentin of the balcony. Before he managed one more jump to save himself, Quentin made a mental note to find the asshole who planned this mission and kill him. Repeatedly.
———————-
Halloween was ruined for Vanya this year. She and her siblings were so excited to finally be allowed trick or treating only for Hargreeves to cancel it because of another hostage situation.
With her siblings called to action and Pogo going with Dad to assist, that left only Vanya and Mom at home. And mom had to recharge.
“Do you need help changing out of your costume, Dear?”
Thinking of all the hard work she and Mom went through to put it together, Vanya wanted to wear it a few moments longer. Wishing Mom a good night, Vanya headed to the greenhouse. She wasn’t ready to go to bed and be alone with her thoughts and concrete walls.
So she decided to go up to the greenhouse. The plants (contrary to what Diego or Dad said) seemed to grow faster and healthier after she talked to them and played her violin.
Vanya liked to pretend the plants were watching over her and were eager to hear from her again. So she looked forward to getting back to them. Besides, it’s a full moon tonight so the view of from the glass ceiling should be good.
Vanya mentally patted herself on the back for keeping a sleeping bag there. Sitting would be much more comfortable with the bag rather than simply bearing with the cold, hard ground.
But her pleasant thoughts suddenly dissipated upon seeing a figure who (for all intents and purposes) seemed to be murdering her sleeping bag.
The boy (or at least someone scrawny enough to fit in an Umbrella Academy uniform) was trying to cut the sleeping bag with what appeared to be a Bowie knife. The reasonable part of Vanya was telling her to get help.
But another part, the one that wanted adventure and risk-taking, convinced her it was actually amusing to watch someone cut through her bag with a big, stabbing implement.
And honestly, all she intended to do was watch until she noticed he was bleeding.
“You’re hurt!”
That’s when Quentin turned around to see a Russian Princess with matching kokoshnik and 16th century style clothing gaping at his wound.