The large, decadent chandelier flickered and swung precariously as the windows rattled. Time seemed to stop as a chill settled over to the Hotel Oblivion's lobby.
A ghostly figure slinked through the floor-length windows. The need for doors was for mere mortals, and Anastasia was above that entirely. Always had been, always would be. She lifted her arms as white and silver orbs of light followed. She pushed her hands out firmly, freezing the souls of ordinary people suspended in the air. Anastasia sauntered toward the Hargreeves brothers with a deadly look in her eyes.
"You." Anastasia pointed a pale finger at Five, sitting at the bar.
Five set his drink down on the table and turned to face his ex-wife. His calmness was eerie to anyone who should have noticed if there wasn't a strict discretion policy. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Cut the shit," she spat, walking toward him. "Where is Marcus?"
Five gave the frozen bartender a confused look and tensed the bottom part of his eyes. "You're gonna have to be more specific, my angel."
"The Sparrow Academy Marcus. He's their Number One. Ringing any bells?" Anastasia frowned at the term of endearment he hadn't earned yet.
"Maybe you should ask the Sparrow Academy," Klaus suggested with a nervous chuckle as he reluctantly made his way over.
"Wish I had thought of that one," Anastasia replied, the derisiveness leaking from her manner.
"Listen, if you're thinkin' we have him, you would be wrong. We hadn't seen him since yesterday when they attacked us," Five explained as simply as he could.
"Oh, they attacked you? Must I do this the hard way?" Anastasia sighed, rolling her icy eyes.
"What's the hard way?" Klaus asked before he could stop himself. Five shot him a shocked look.
Anastasia released the souls of the people surrounding them back into their rightful bodies and raised Five's brothers' souls out of their bodies. She extended her pale fingers, locking their souls in mid-air. Five's eyes doubled in size.
"Natasha, I'm not trying to hurt you," Five said calmly. He stood up slowly from his barstool. Anastasia wasn't going to let up; stubborn and fighting him as always. "You don't have to jump to extremes."
"Oh, I'm not. So, I will ask one last time, Number Five," Anastasia hissed bittersweetly. She walked closer to Five, pulling out Diego's knife she had stolen over fifty years prior and held it up to Five's neck. It threatened to draw blood as she pressed the cold edge to his skin. Anastasia spoke deathly softly, "Where is Marcus?"
