Chapter Text
Perhaps a yard or two above pavement, a thin gangly man was splayed between a wall and a drainpipe of a closed drug store. Foot fumbling for leverage to boost himself up onto the windowsill above, he almost slips. Inhaling, the figure in a seventies’ navy blue and grey pinstripe suit – unfitting for such going-ons- continues his awkward accent to the sealed off window.
A sparkle in his curly blood-matted hair attracts moonlight, and the figure finds footing to lunge. Catching the edge of the windowsill he heaves himself up to peer flirtatiously inside. Satisfied, he then reaches inside his breast pocket to bring out a thin piece of bent wire. Being the ex-hero that he is, the man slips it in the crack of the locked window, wiggles it around until he hears a click – “Ah ha!” - and slides the window up to wriggle gracelessly inside. Flopping loudly onto a shelf that instantly cracks under sudden weight.
"Gah!"
Sitting in a self-made fort across the street, a homeless woman who catches sight of this burglary-in-progress - and the noise emitting from inside - has to wonder who this equally homeless-looking druggie is.
This man is Klaus Hargreeves. Formerly known as number Four, the Séance, general disappointment, and high belief in going where life takes him, Definitely not homeless - at least not in the way she is thinking. He denies the usage of words ‘homeless’ and ‘Klaus’ in the same sentence, he prefers the term: extraordinarily committed couch sitter.
But he digresses, because at this very moment, Klaus Hargreeve is misplaced in-between dimensions and is in dire need of a pick-me-up.
His couch sitting has extended to greater lengths he never thought imaginable.
.
Inside the drug store, Klaus tip toes behind the counter searching for amphetamins. It was a trick prising open the pill cabinets, but he eventually gets there and fills his pockets with the tablets. Mid-swallow of the tiny white pill, a siren whirrs in flashes of red from corners of the room and metal bars drop from the ceiling. Locking him behind the counter.
He thinks, fuck me, and swallows the pill. Wrinkling his nose as the dryness.
“I told you they had a good burglary system,” Ben scolds under a red light in second-hand embarrassment. “Five’s gonna be so pissed at you when he finds out you’ve wandered off to a prison cell.”
Klaus groans inwardly and squints at the tiny window up near the pill cabinet. If he sucks in his stomach, it’s possible. Ben follows his gaze.
“That’s gonna hurt.”
“Like popping the cherry,” Klaus climbs onto the table underneath the window. Pettishly kicking off trays of medical equipment, more files, and a framed picture of somebody’s pet turtle. “Stings for a bit but once you ease into it,” he flicks off the basic lock and lifts it open. “Smooth sailing from then on out.”
“Dude,” Ben sighs into his hands, “So not the same thing.”
.
Klaus is safe in the motel room, freshly showered and towel wrapped around his thin waist when Five teleports back from his reconnaissance.
“This world is a slightly better Hell-hole than ours.”
“Oh good,” Klaus crosses his legs primly on the edge of his bed. Smiling cheerily. “What are you going to do about it?”
“You’re making it sound like I’m the one responsible for this.”
In an all too airy and casual manner, Klaus waves a genial hand, “We-ell, Chuck E Cheese weren’t aiming their guns at little old me shouting ‘just die already’ ‘die die die’ ‘Goddamn die?’ were they?” he asks, performing an inaccurately high-pitched re-enactment with finger guns. ‘pew pew’ motions between emphasised ‘die’s.
“Regale me, Number Five, in your time traveling did you ever happen to work for the loony tunes Mafia by any chance?,” he leans forward. Eager. “Have an affair with the boss’s daughter or son or, goodness the family butler?” Hand on heart Klaus gasps, “Five, oh Five you absolute scoundrel.”
Five has a dangerous half-smile on his face that makes Klaus feel like a potential murder victim.
His cute brother was a creepy one, alright, he thinks. Eyes connecting with Ben’s in a mutually disturbed coo.
“Think what you like, I couldn’t give a crap from A to Z.” Five walks to his bed and flips open the bullet-ridden Men In Black briefcase Klaus had picked up before their dimensional-teleport. He growls at the smoke and little sparks pinging from it. “What on earth possessed you to pick it up?”
Klaus considers this for a while before admitting, “I’m actually confused myself.”
Not six hours ago, Klaus and Five were walking outside the prosthetic building after consulting a man about a glass eyeball when two people wearing decapitated Chuck E Cheese heads started shooting at them. ‘Them’ being Five. Klaus just happened to be in firing range as per usual.
Somehow in all of the bullet dodging Klaus had thrown himself into an open car’s passenger seat - fascinatingly enough being the attacker’s. Almost immediately, he spotted the briefcase in the back seat, got curious, picked it up and looked back to Five happily tackling the smaller one and waved it up in a “Looksee!”. Larger of the two Chuck E Cheese had screamed in horror when they saw that – “How the heck did you get in there?! I always lock the doors!” - Five looked like he sorely wanted to scream as well and flashed over, snarling at him to “Drop it”.
More cracks of gunfire, Klaus brought up the briefcase to cover his brother – sensation of tugging from all sides and they land in an alternate New York.
Five develops a look on his face saying that he couldn’t believe a person like him existed and was still fully functioning. Klaus saw it every time he admitted himself into rehab. So no hard feelings, brother.
“Next time,” Five murmurs, teeth gritted. “Don’t. If you get an urge to pick something up, just look away. Move on. Get high, whatever I don’t care. Just don’t pick up stuff that can potentially, oh I don’t know –send us into another universe,” Five practically levitates off the floor in fury looking like he could yank Klaus’s head off his shoulders.
“You know what you need,” Klaus says soothingly, “A bath,” Ben snorts, “I bet you haven’t had a bath in decades. With bubbles. And a rubber ducky.”
Five splutters in high offence, “I don’t need a bath I need calculations and tools to fix this,” he gestures crossly at the depressing briefcase giving tiny whimpers of sparks. “The scientific advances in this universe has more to offer than back home, so I can theoretically repair this – “ Five cuts himself off with a yawn, forcing Klaus to notice his brother’s furious blinking. He looked profoundly tired and pissed because of it.
Klaus stands. Making understanding and mollifying sounds, “There there little brother – “
“I’m older than you,” Five snaps.
“What did daddy-dearest always say when you showed signs of burn out?”
Five is incredibly upset at getting called out for his exhaustion. “Fuck you.”
.