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With one last look back to Dolores, Five lowered his gun, took a few cautious steps towards this impossible woman with the briefcase and shook her hand. Darkness fell suddenly and the ground gave way beneath him. For a split second, he was falling through nothingness until his feet hit solid ground and he was no longer in the ruins of the Argyle Public Library. He noted the waning hum of the briefcase as they arrived, but found no other indication that anything spectacular had happened. These people had somehow made time travel routine. It felt hollow. Clinical. Wrong. This wasn't how time travel was supposed to be. He acknowledged that it had been a long time since he’d used his own powers properly and he'd never been a passenger in anyone else's jump. Even so, he found himself longing for the buzz of his spatial jumps or the thrill he had only tasted during his doomed leaps through Time. His life changed in an instant.
Before he could dwell any further, he was thrust into the process that would enrol him as a Commission agent. He was asked questions to validate his identity and confirm any previous medical history. While he tried to remember which injections he and his siblings had been given as children, he felt a sharp scratch on his right forearm. A mere formality, he had been told. A tracking device was placed beneath the skin in order to help locate agents in need and keep him safe out in the field. It left no mark, but he stared at the point of entry for a few seconds, realising it sat directly opposite his faded Umbrella Academy tattoo.
Five was then escorted to a private room where he was instructed to throw his clothes in a bin marked ‘Hazardous Waste’, have a proper wash and get dressed in the grey tracksuit provided. He hesitated as he removed each part of his apocalypse gear and dropped it into the awaiting hopper. Each piece, though grubby and falling apart in some way, had helped him weather the apocalypse. They had served him well over the years and it felt wrong to throw them all away. Sparing a thought for where he had found each piece, he dropped the clothes, turned away and moved on. Thankfully, he was quickly able to distract himself from their loss with the thought of his first warm shower in over forty years. He spent a ridiculously long time just standing under the hot water. He watched the dirty water spiral down the drain and was surprised at how much lighter he felt for it. It was remarkable how something as simple as a hot shower could make such a difference. As he took the time to wash himself properly, Five took a moment to go over the events of the last few hours. He had spent forty years surviving in a dead world in the hopes of getting home and saving the world. An impossibility now made real. An overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief spread through him.
Once clean and suitably attired, he was escorted to another room where a barber waited to carry out a cut that was long overdue. After a quick discussion, they both agreed to a compromise. His long matted hair was cut away to reveal a neat, short crop that highlighted the grey he had tried to ignore. He also agreed to get rid of the beard in favour of a moustache which, he was assured, looked very distinguished.
A few more rooms had come and gone with tests and interrogations that would have put old Sir Reginald Hargreeves to shame. Eventually, he was led to the room he was in now. The walls were a dull beige with only the door to the corridor outside and a large window to break up the otherwise featureless space. Inside, there was a wardrobe and a large floor length mirror, perfectly placed to catch the ‘natural’ day light from the solitary window.
He let a few moments pass to make sure that he had truly been left alone before he nervously stepped towards the mirror and inspected his face for the first time in years. The long hair and beard had been a practical choice, born from winters that seemed to get colder and colder every year, but he also knew that they both effectively disguised him from the rest of the world and, at times, even from himself. Now that they were gone and what was left had been trimmed to perfection, it felt like he had been unearthed.
Every line told the story of his time in the apocalypse. He scoffed as he thought about what Dolores would think of all this. She would probably tell him that he brushed up quite well or she would declare that his career as the wild man of the wasteland was now truly at an end. He caught himself smiling and leant in closer to the mirror. No laughter lines. He wished he would have laughed more.
Before he fell further down the rabbit hole, Five walked over to the wardrobe and pulled open the doors. He found several different suits, each set out neatly on their own hanger, ready for him to browse.
The first one that Five found held the standard tuxedo, complete with bow-tie and tails. He considered it for all of five seconds before deciding that he didn’t want to carry out this kind of job looking like a penguin.
The next one showed a little more promise. A sharp black suit without the tails but still with the tie and a plain white shirt underneath. This set had been paired with pointed black dress shoes that could be lethal on the right feet. He preferred this option to the first, but still wasn’t sure about walking around looking like the poor man's James Bond.
He wanted something smart but comfortable. Something that wouldn’t distinguish him or set him out from the crowd. He already knew what it meant to stand out from his time at The Umbrella Academy. He wanted to be able to slip away unnoticed and fade into the background.
He continued rifling through the options that filled the wardrobe to the point where he was starting to believe it was bigger on the inside. Notable mentions included the plum velvet jacket which made him look like a magician and the white suit jacket that wouldn't have gone amiss at an old fashioned casino. There was cliché and then there was the damned obvious. He considered the kilt for the briefest of moments before swiftly deciding against it.
It was only after flicking through a myriad of eras and styles that he stumbled across the perfect fit. It felt like it was waiting for him. Tucked between a boiler suit and a knitted jumper and dark trouser combo, a simple dark grey suit caught his eye. It was smart and understated and exactly the kind of thing that he had in mind. He grabbed the hanger and found that this suit had been paired with a pair of simple black shoes, a soft grey hat and a dark tie with a silver clip already attached. Five took a deep breath before he closed the wardrobe and got changed into the last suit he would ever wear.
A few minutes later, he stood before the floor length mirror again, tying his tie and carefully positioning the hat on his head. Before him stood a man called Five Hargreeves that he did not recognise. He was going to be a Corrections Agent in The Commission and he was going to be made to do some terrible things. He had no idea what lay ahead for the man staring back at him, but it had to be better than what had gone before. He was one step closer to the goal he had set himself all those years ago and this man was going to be the one who made it home. No matter the cost.