Guns (Number Five X Reader)

Again?

Turns out I have no idea how to live a normal life. Most of it I'd been at the Commission, one mission after another, alway with a purpose and goal to strive for. I the week I'd left I'd been running around with Five trying to stop the apocalypse. Now, stuck in 1963 with no plan, mission or even money, I felt pointless.

So I gave myself meaning, make sure the Hargreeves don't fuck up. It's what I'd been doing for the past two years with Five. It was the same job just with more of them.

I had come up with a plan. Five Hargreeves siblings, five days a week. Weekend off to chill and make some money. Each day of the week I followed a siblings in turn.

Luther was okay. He kept a strict morning routine, was never late for work, rarely drank. I lingered on street corners near his apartment, watched his fights, became a regular at Ruby's club.

Deigo was easiest, he was locked up in a mental hospital. He was friends with this Lila girl, she definitely deserved her place inside. Deigo was making a speedy recovery, saying what they wanted to here and only loosing it once a day or so.

Allison, similar to Luther, was doing her best to be normal. She was married married a nice guy called Ray, now Allison Chestnut. She worked at a salon and fighting for he rights. I nodded my approval and made sure to try keep trouble away from her.

Klaus was hardest to follow. He was in California, the rest of his cult gone to follow him. I broke a window lock and looked around his mansion a bit, occasionally sleeping there because I had no where else. I didn't trust Elliott enough to stay more then one night at a time.

Finally there was Viktor. He both easiest and hardest to stalk. He rarely left the farm which made him easier to follow. But he was also in the middle of nowhere so it made it really hard to sneak around. He was trying desperately to find someone who knew him, putting out more adds in the papers every day. I pitied him, to be honest, and was tempted to talk to him just to see if it would jump start his memory or if I could answer his questions. But at the same time I knew how catastrophic that could be.

Anyway, that was my week, and weekends I just tried to find a place to linger all day. Maybe walk around pick pocketing, I was trying to get enough to get out the uniform.

November 15th 1963

I was watching Luther the day it went to shit.

Stood on a balcony, whisky in one hand and cigarette in the other. I leaned against the railing staring down blankly at the bar. Luther was stood talking talking to a waitress. She nodded over to the stage and I followed her gaze. As per usual a bunch of middle aged drunks wishing they could get closer to the action.

He walked over, I assumed one of said drunks had tried to make those wishes reality, and bent down and started talking to one of them. After a second he sat down next to him, I leaned closer and squinted.

"Son of a bitch," I murmured.

I extinguished my cigarette, downed the rest of my drink and dumped a glass on a table as I passed. I snuck out and lingered outside waiting for him to leave.

He left not long after me, alone. As I hoped for, he turned my way. I ducked into an ally, pocket knife in hand, and waited.

He walked past, I grabbed his collar and yanked him back. I shoved him against the wall and pressed my knife against his throat.

"Where the fuck have you been?! I've been stranded here for a month. No word, no warning, no explanation, nothing. And now you just show up and the first place you go to is a strip club?! Glad to see your priorities are still in order Five."