The Silver Killer

Six: The Favor

**from here on out, there will be lots of sensitive topics such as sexual assault, mental, physical, and emotional abuse, rape, and a TON of violence. To all that suffer from any of the previously mentioned things, I'm sorry, and if there's any way I can help you, please let me know :)**

Five expected himself to appear in a ... well, somewhere big, spacious. Maybe a public place, like a hotel lobby, a cafe, or even a park.

But he was in a ... living room? At least, that's what it looked like. There was a big brick fireplace that took up almost an entire wall, an entertainment stand with a large TV on top of it, a sofa against one wall, and two recliners. Curtains covered what he assumed was a glass door to his right.

At first, he thought he'd ended up at the wrong place, and checked the address again. Good thing the family isn't here to see me, he thought to himself as he dug through his pockets for the note, but he froze when he heard a familiar voice.

"Don't bother checking if you're in the right place," you said, amusement creeping into your voice as Five spun around to face you. "You are."

You were back in a dark blue cloak instead of the fancy white one, though the mask was still on your face. You smiled tightly, outstretched your arms, and took a step toward the paralyzed boy. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Five regained his composure quickly. "Pretty classy for a wanted criminal."

"Isn't it? I'm quite proud of it, actually." Your fingers brushed against a photograph of Times Square, framed and hung on the wall behind the sofa. "I spent days planning the layout, moving things around, filling in the holes. But now it feels like home."

His gaze hadn't moved from you, not an inch. To be honest, he was intrigued. This strange girl, appearing out of nowhere one night, then again, but only to him.

A sudden thought hit him like a punch to the gut; what if you were working for the Commission? This alternate-timeline version of the Commission, that is. What if you ... what if you were trying to recruit him? Would he have to fight you? He'd seen you scale that wall, scythe and cloak and all, and though he wouldn't hesitate to fight you if it came to that, he'd prefer to keep his hands clean.

"What do you want from me?" he asked calmly, holding your gaze and his stance.

Your heart skipped a beat at his voice. You'd never actually listened to it before ... you'd always heard the words, of course, but his voice ... No, no, stop Y/N, stop. This is important. Maybe the most important thing you'll ever do.

"A favor," you replied, clasping your hands in front of you, letting him know that you weren't planning anything; everything was there, clear to see. You needed him to trust you, above all else.

He snorted. "A favor? You don't even know me. I-"

"Five Hargreeves, consciousness aged 58, physically about 13, six siblings, one of which is dead, all of which have unique powers, was supposedly raised by Reginald Hargreeves and trained in what was known as the Umbrella Academy." As you spoke, you slowly made your way toward him. "Your siblings go by the names - in order of their numberings, that is - Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Ben, and Vanya, though Ben died some years ago, more for you than it was for your siblings. You were stuck in the apocalypse for 40 years before getting picked up by an association called the Commission, where you were trained to be a deadly assassin, though at some point in your five-year-long Commission career, you made your way back to your siblings in order to save them from the coming apocalypse." You stopped with your eyes mere inches from his ice blue ones. "Don't tell me I don't know you."