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“Take the shot, Five.”
“Shut up, Diego.”
“They’re right there, come on!”
Five gritted his teeth and made a minor adjustment to his rifle scope. “You know what, Diego? This would be a lot easier if you weren’t shouting in my ear every three seconds.”
“I’m not—” Diego lowered his voice to a fierce whisper. “I’m not shouting!”
Internally, as to not lose his target, Five rolled his eyes. “Yes you are. God only knows how you can shout in a whisper, Diego, but you can, congratulations. You’re very special. Now shut up and stop messing up my aim.”
A blessed moment of silence followed. Five continued to sight the target: a powerful, well dressed women and her entourage. She was currently about a quarter mile away, moving unhurriedly down the street.
Five’s guts twisted internally at the leisurely, almost pompous way the woman walked. He still remembered quite well the beginning, when Reginald’s henchmen wouldn’t dare to walk openly, less they become a target. Yet the swift and harsh retribution that had become the norm over the past few years, added to the lack of jobs, housing, or social status for any who defined the tyrant, had quelled any open rebellion. Now, Reginald’s well-dressed associates were a common sight, moving openly through the City, causing rag-clothed plebeians to scurry out of the way, diving into doorways and shadows to avoid the whips (both proverbial and literal) of the ruling class.
“Five,” Diego’s voice interrupted his train of thought. Again. “We climbed all the way up this water tower, remember. This is what we’re here for.” When Five didn’t move, Diego continued, his impatience palpable. “What’s wrong now? Your eyesight not so good anymore, old man? Want me to do it?”
“No,” Five snarled, “I’m not giving you this rifle, Diego. Because if I did, you’d just miss completely and give us away. Or take off some poor old sot’s head, huh? You don’t have powers anymore, Diego. Just bad aim.”
Five readjusted his sight. The movement made his arm ache. He shifted his position again, trying to compensate. Even though it had been three years, his body, particularly his left arm, never seemed to quite forget that they didn’t belong in this timeline.
“Fine.” Diego hissed through clenched teeth. “So. Take. The. Shot. You’re supposed to be this legendary sharp-shooter, remember? Pride of the Commission, and all that bullshit? Herb never shut up about it. What ever happened to that Five? Huh?”
“I don’t seem to remember you being particularly fond of that Five back in the day, Diego. And I’m retired, remember?” It was a thin excuse, but Five clung to it tenaciously.
But that wasn’t why he hesitated.
Five let out a small sigh. “The Commission never asked me to murder my own sister, Diego. Are we sure we want to do this? There’s no coming back from this, you know.”
When Diego responded, Five heard the deep pain disguised as anger in his voice. “She’s not our sister, Five. Not anymore. She gave up the right to be called that three years ago. Allison’s one of them now. And so she's dead to me. Should be to you, too.”
Five grimaced, but didn’t openly disagree. No one had talked to Allison since the Hotel. In the beginning, they had made several attempts to contact her. But whether because she didn’t get the message (Five wouldn’t discount the possibility that Reginald had been running interference) or simply didn’t care to, Allison hadn’t responded.
At one point, Luther (in a fit of stupid bravado) had actually gone to see her. Just walked right up and rang the bell to her compound. Later, Luther had recounted that Ray had been pleasant, even welcoming, as he answered via video screen (Five doubted this), but before Ray could let him in, Luther had been slammed to the ground by several large men. The next thing Luther said he remembered had been waking up in a drainage ditch half a klick away. After that, he had left the City, mumbling some excuse about meeting up with Viktor and Klaus, who by this time were rumored to be living on the coast.
And so in less than a year, only Five and Diego were left. They stayed in the City, moving around often, inhabiting the seedy underbelly and occasionally working with various rebel groups that would pop up now and then. Five had to grudgingly admit that the two of them made a good pair. Diego's street smarts and ability to tell which denizens were dangerous and which were merely unlucky complemented nicely Five’s practical knowledge of survival tactics.
“She destroyed the world, Five,” Diego’s words brought Five back to the present. “She’s the reason we’re here. She sided with him, and now—just look around. Maybe it’s not the apocalypse we're living in, but it’s pretty damn close.” he said, referencing the squalor that was the new normal for all but a privileged few. “That would have pissed off the old Five,” he concluded.
Five grimaced. Diego wasn’t wrong. The old Five would have been pissed. Hell, he was pissed now. Allison had unilaterally destroyed everything he had worked his whole life for, worse, destroyed their family, for what?
For her own selfish needs, and her new family.
It was the ultimate betrayal.
Still, Five’s finger only hovered over the trigger, deliberately not making contact with the carbon fiber trigger. And Allison’s (ex)family status wasn’t the reason.
No, what stayed Five’s hand was different family problem. A problem, in the form of a seven year old girl, who was currently trailing about three feet behind her mother, innocently skipping and twirling in her party dress. Claire.
Five hadn’t ever been given the opportunity to meet Claire, but he had dutifully clipped and kept copies of pictures and news reports that included her. He hadn't even consciously realized why he was doing it, but he had watched her grow over the years via these stills. Much like the distant uncle he still supposed he was.
Making up his mind, Five pulled his hand back. He reached for the rifle case and saw Diego staring at him in disbelief.
Diego’s next move was to lunge for the rifle. Because he expected it, Five was able to easily maneuver the weapon out of his reach, but at the price of leaving himself open for attack. Diego grabbed for his leg, and was quickly able to pin Five down to the catwalk.
“What are you doing, Five?” Diego grunted through clenched teeth, pinning Five down with his body weight as he unsuccessfully tried to wrestle away the rifle. “We’ve worked for this. We’ve fought for this. Allison’s the enemy now. She destroyed the world. She destroyed our family. We deserve payback.”
In a surprise move, Five threw aside the rifle. He used Diego’s moment of hesitation—hold down Five, or go after the rifle?—to his advantage. In a moment, it was Five who had Diego pinned down in a half-nelson hold.
Diego’s face lay over the edge of the catwalk, sweat dripping down to the ground below. Five, panting now from the effort of the struggle, put his face close to Diego. “See that, Diego?” he whispered. “See who’s with her? “It’s not just about us anymore. I’m not orphaning a little girl, just for payback. How would you feel, growing up that way, Diego? Remember when Grace died? Remember how you felt? Now imagine being seven.”
Diego grimaced, but after a moment blinked his eyes. Five correctly interpreted that as a submission, and relaxed his hold. Diego sat up, and the two stared at each other for a beat.
Eventually, Diego spoke. “You sure about this?”
“Yes.”
“Even if her mother is a monster?”
“Even then.”
Another pause, then Diego sighed. “You know, this would have all been easier if the old Five was still here, you know? I miss that little bastard.”
Sometimes, so do I, Five thought ruefully, as he dismantled and re-cased his weapon. He knew the Five that Diego was referencing. Knew him well. The pre-retirement Five. The one who took that fateful trip to East London.
Diego was right, it certainly would be easier. But Five wasn’t that monster anymore. He hadn’t been for some time. At some point, he had decided, a person goes numb to their actions. At some point after that, there comes a reckoning, as there’s only so much pain and destruction that one can personally inflict on the innocent members of humanity and still remain human. And so Five had made the only sane choice available to him and retired from that life.
Five picked up the rifle case, and he and Diego started making their way back down the ladder to the street level. Neither of them were one to spend long on reminiscing and regrets. Not when they still had work to do. They would find another path. Five only hoped that it would be one that someday, somehow, brought his family back together.
All of them.