Snippets of Memory - The Umbrella Academy

Closer to the Sun

In the middle of the black concrete, beneath which the city above no longer existed, nor anything we were living or had ever lived through.

And we danced, paradoxically, together without even brushing against each other.

---

I couldn't find Klaus when I went looking for him again. My first attempt ended in nothing but blindness, blacklights and smoke machines had been fired up. I moved through the crowd, shrouded in mist and deep pulses. And I probed the energy again without even realizing it.

In vain.

I spun in place, surrounded only by human shapes whose raised arms suddenly felt like towering walls. I caught sight of a guy I'd seen dancing with Klaus. And I slammed him against one of the mineral pillars holding up the sewer vault. He didn't even seem surprised.

"Where is he?", I shouted over a volume I couldn't begin to measure.
He just laughed: he had no idea who I was talking about.
"The guy you were dancing with by the Grill. Neon fuchsia fishnet. Mismatched boots".
"The one with lost little deer eyes?"
I shoved him harder against the pillar.
"That one".

He stopped laughing. He saw I wasn't joking. And looking back, I think I was holding his whole nervous system in my hands. God, he reeked of lychee liquor, it was nauseating.

"No idea", he stammered. "He left when he saw some guy in black leather. Bearded type".
"Which way?"
"Corridor to the right of the bar..."

I let him go instantly. And *Crack!* - in a blink, he was surrounded again only by the rest of the phosphorescent crowd, their teeth and fingernails flashing white in the violet-dark that had taken hold of the sewer.

All at once, the crowd thinned out and stilled, and the only people I came across, I had to literally step over them, or sidestep their sluggish, writhing limbs. No apologies given. That side tunnel led to other massive conduits, much more foul-smelling, because they were still in use.

I knew who Klaus had followed. Deep down, I had no doubt, and every part of me boiled with worry and fury. The Mothers of Agony were everywhere: especially at events like this. It was always a risk to run into The City's underworld, and we knew it. Klaus knew he wasn't supposed to wander off from the crowd, or from the Grill. But of all those bastard bikers, Quinn had always been the most persuasive.

I didn't need to see his face to recognize him. I didn't even need to make out the inverted star circling the goat's head: the MoA symbol still stamped on their gear. I just saw him handing Klaus a baggie, the usual 'this one's free, just this time'. Quinn was pure scum, maybe he'd figured out that a quick death wouldn't faze Klaus, and what he really craved was the slow one.

"Back off, Quinn", I told him, even though he objectively weighed twice as much as I did. Klaus just let himself slide down the wall and sit, because my anger scared him way more than falling back into debt with the worst dealers you could possibly owe anything to.

"No one forced him", Quinn said. "But did I hear that right, or did you just tell me to back off?"

Klaus had only managed to break free from the gang's grip about four months earlier. They'd hunted him down to every squat he thought might offer some rest—tracking him relentlessly to make him pay off debts they had carefully, methodically stacked up. Always taking advantage of those countless moments when he was lost inside his own mind, when the music and the physical release weren't enough anymore.

I didn't get involved when Klaus made deals with what he called his 'neighborhood suppliers'. But I would've done anything to keep him from falling back into the gloved hands of his worst 'pharmacistas' in organized leather-clad form. Owing the MoA anything was basically selling your soul, along with your body and your life.