──── ' haha lab funny go boom '────
[CH. XIV] ✦ ˚
" i never knew you were that psychotic. "
Ophira's vinyl whirred begrudgingly, filling the thick silence of the atmosphere with the glimmering hues of classical music. The oohs and ahhs of each spectacle and note rang out like a whispered tale, the wordless tune a vast contrast from the guitar and bass combo of Ophira's glam-rock mixtape
The girl had never wanted to rip out their ears so bad.
Roughly, only a month had passed since Five first approached them about the ethics and masteries of time travel. Expectantly, Ophira had researched as much as they could about their sibling's individual abilities years before, before Father's request. An exercise compulsory to build the team to their fullest potential.
Over this... tortuously occupied month being in Five's presence, Father had proceeded to order Pogo to forbid Ophira from listening to any music that seemed unsuitable for a future heiress like themselves. This included the various mixtapes and custom vinyl they and Klaus had crafted together over the past years. Gone.
Thick tufts of chocolate brown hair shield Ophira's eyes as they incline their head downwards. Those same multi-colored hues narrow closely with a fluid sense of concentration billowing around their elegantly-reciprocated movements.
In one ring-graced hand, a singular highlighter is occupied in Ophira's precise grasp. The pastel-pink tip met the rough parchment of the passage the girl's eyes flitter across. As if they had read this textbook numerous times before.
"Hey, I got something."
Ophira mustered these words with a deep sigh reverberating from the depths of the young woman's throat. It was hard to disguise the flecks of annoyance that radiated within their azure-speckled eyes as they raised their head upwards. To at least acknowledge Five. Even for a second.
Five, the boy that positioned himself across from them, fell silent. His arms rested across the top of his thighs and one of their many, many time-traveling textbooks lay abandoned and forgotten as his gaze hooks itself into nothing but mere air. A dazed look circulated within those iridescent hues, like Five isn't entirely there either. Caught up in nothing but whatever thoughts occupy himself in that very moment.
Ophira's doll-like lips pressed together tightly, an irk of irritability made itself present in the depths of their abdomen. Like a stomach ache that just won't go away. Even Five's tendency to space out is enough for the young woman's stare to harden – if that were even possible, with the arguably intimidating coldness of their duel-hued gaze.
Ophira inches themselves forward, their typically upright posture faltering for a split second to lean over across the bed they occupy. Raising a singular hand, the young woman snaps their fingers in front of Five's face. The sharp, cracking of the tips of their digits swiping together echoes throughout the room with nothing more than a bold strike.
"Hey, snap out of it, numbnuts."
They give a huff, leaning back into the comfort of their side of the mattress. Ophira's neatly waxed eyebrows inch upwards the slightest, a look of indifference replacing the once-prominent irritable gleam in their hues.
"Focus. For once in your pathetic life, come on."
Five doesn't pay mind to Ophira's threateningly spluttered words. The same dazed flutter in his eye persists the slightest as his gaze shifts to meet the young woman's own.
"Can I call you Zero?" His voice is mellow, uncharastically soft.
This same softness of his request causes Ophira to falter in any and all movements, in all trains of thought. Ophira's eyes flutter, blinking once... then twice, as Five's words gradually register in their typically snappy-paced head.
"Excuse me?"
Ophira hesitates.
"Whatever. You're just insecure you have a number for a name."
"And you can suffer too,"
Five gives a smooth roll of his eyes, the softness that once remained in the viridescent dissipating completely. Leaving nothing but a hardened look of irritability that the two share amongst themselves.
"Lucky me."
"I can agree that hearing anyone else call you that would be... deplorable."
Five manages to contemplate, lowering his head once more with a singularly swift incline. He doesn't pay any mind to the intensity of Ophira's eyes, studying the boy before them with a careful, somewhat cautious gaze. Instead, Five decides that the rim of the book in his hands is far more interesting.
"Got a jealous streak, hm?"
Five raises his eyes, an indescribable emotion engraved in his eyes.
"You wish, Zero."
The distant scent of smoke is only somewhat distinguishable as they pluck a cigarette from their lips, gaze drawn towards Lance, who wanders down the street without any knowledge of Five and Ophira's stares bored into him a couple of feet away.
"There he is, what are we going to do with him?"
"Well, we threaten him for the records."
Five doesn't break his gaze from Lance, not even for one second, eyes blanketed with a state of nothing more than focus. His hands are occupied with a lithe pocket knife that he not-so-politely borrowed from Ophira, twirling the blade between his fingers without a single careful thought for his wellbeing.
Ophira grumbles under their breath.
"Which was the only useful thing we discovered last night."
Those same words are enough to pull Five out of his distracted state for a flicker of a moment, turning his head momentarily to shoot Ophira a glare that's enough to send a jolt of nothing but pure, pure annoyance to pulsating throughout them.
"Something like that."
"Meaning, I had quite the disturbed sleep, fuckface."
Ophira emphasizes thick brows drawing together promptly.
"Well, that's all a part of the job."
"I didn't ask to be a part of this—"
Ophira's words barely manage to leave their petal-like lips before Five's hands wring around the crook of their arm – sending them into a flurry of azure electricity once more. The woman finds their feet (or their ass, in this case) in the back of the compact scenery of Lance's car. The leather seat stinks of cigarette smoke, causing Ophira to wrinkle their nose at the clutter present in the vehicle.
All of those thoughts melt away as the woman's hardened gaze rests upon Lance's dog, the tall animal beginning to gruffly bark at the sudden flicker of blue electrical lights that follow Five and Ophira's arrival. The gold-coated dog immediately quietens down as the girl by his side scratches him behind the ears.
"Oh, Jesus!"
The last thing Lance expected to see today is Five occupying the passenger seat.
Five inclines himself over without another word, Ophira's pocket knife clutched in his vein-prominent fist. He presses the blade of the knife against Lance's meaty throat, capable of spilling blood at any moment he wishes. The thrill of the situation causes an excitable shiver to jag down Ophira's entire body.
"One chance. That's all you've got. One chance to tell me exactly what's going on in that lab."
Lance's small, shrewd eyes flicker towards Ophira for a glimpse of comfort. A tinge of helplessness fills up his dark hues until it is practically written all over his twisted face. The young individual inches forward, forward, forward, until Ophira is pressed against the edge of their seat and their liteful arms prop up on the crook of Five's seat.
"Hi there, Grant."
Ophira drawls out, words edged with mockery as they slip a singular hand into the depths of their white, crisp, button-up. Fingers immediately latch onto cool metal. They retrieve a gold-trimmed pistol, tips of their fingers teasing the trigger as the corners of their mouth tips up into a charming, yet, vividly wicked grin.
Ophira is in their element. This attribute is obvious.
Lance's throat bobbles up and down as he proceeds to nervously swallow down whatever scream is threatening to make an appearance. His attention shifts back to Five, who towers over him with a glint of blood hungriness speckled in his virident hues.
"I... I manufacture prosthetic devices for fake patients. I bill insurance companies and then sell them for cash on the black market." Lance manages to choke out, practically pleading with the 14-year-old appearing boy holding a knife to his neck.
Ophira's palms furthermore explore the crevices of their gun.
"And that includes prosthetic eyeballs, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. they're my biggest seller."
Five's eyes narrow downwards furthermore into mere slits, deep, dark eyebrows drawing together firmly with impatience. A roar of newfound violence flickers within the boy as he draws the blade further against Lance's skin. The threat searing the aggression blaring in his eyes causes Lance to fumble.
" I mean, they sell like hotcakes. I-I've got a list, a waiting list, probably 20 buyers."
Lance practically begins to panic, voice wavering.
Five doesn't ease up, every word he splutters growing colder and colder by the second.
"So, the serial number we told you..."
"Uh, could've already been bought. Yes, off- off the books."
A notably passive-aggressive sigh escapes Five at this news.
"I needed that list, Lance. Names and numbers, and we need it now!"
"I don't have it. I mean, not on me. The only copy's in my safe at the lab."
If Lance wasn't shaking before, then he's trembling now in nothing but pure fear towards the blade at his throat.
"Well, you start the car, then. 'Cause we're going on a field trip."
Five orders without missing a beat, voice lowering with a threatening hue. He clenches his fingers around the rigid base of the pocket-knife, on the verge of slitting every single artery in Lance's neck.
"Okay."
"Now."
"Okay."
The engine of the car roars to life, grumbling underneath Ophira. Five surveys every move Lance takes to flick on the ignition, his threat lingering in the thick air as he tears himself away, settling back into his cigarette-stinking seat.
Ophira extends a singular, arched eyebrow.
"I never knew you were that psychotic." They tease, head settled a mere breath away from his shoulder as their typically raised voice lowers into a prompt ghost of a whisper.
Five inclines his head slightly, eyes boring into their own. His gaze lingers for a beat of a second before he moves himself to respond. A look of what seems to resemble the inflation of his large, large ego is evident in his dark hues.
"Jealous much?" His voice oozes that same cockiness.
"Oh, you wish."
A gentle snicker escapes the depths of Five's throat, a snicker that reaches the glow of his eyes.
"Don't make me laugh." Sarcasm taunts each word that spills from his lips.
"You just did."
Ophira's hand inclines forward, dainty fingers flicking the surprisingly smooth, blemishless mound of Five's cheek. The edge of their touch brushes against the cluster of moles gracing the surface. And just as quickly as they pulled forward, Ophira pulled back. Instead, the young woman's attention shifts momentarily towards Lance, who glances at them every once in a while with nothing but utter fear.
"Hey! Keep on driving, Grant."
To the delight of the two delinquents, the engine cuts itself off not even a couple of minutes later. Lance sloppily packs the vehicle onto the side of the street, a bead of sweat rolling down his still-flushed neck, redness crawling up the crook of his skin.
"We're here."
Lance manages to muster.
Five's viriscent hues harden notably, gaze boring into Lance.
"I can see that, let's go." He scoffs, turning his back momentarily to only click the door open.
Ophira shifts their eyes towards the dog that sat by their side for the remainder of the ride, a rare softness swelling in their eyes as they comb a hand through the animal's glossy coat for the final time. They step out of the vehicle to a vividly angsty Five, whose eyes bore into Ophira – alas, he says nothing.
The three of them – Five, Ophira, Lance – all walk down the sidewalk together, the sudden heat that seems to rise in the air causing Ophira's button-up to practically stick against their skin. They can't help but take their blazer into one hand, in hopes of some relief of the strangely-appearing heat.
"Uh... hey, guys?"
Five doesn't bother turning his head to glance back at Lance.
"Yes?" He drawls onwards, not seeming phased by the heat. A sentiment that causes Ophira's lips to curl tightly into a twisted mix of distaste and pure annoyance.
"Is that... smoke?"
Ophira barely has the opportunity to catch sight of the dark, curling streams of pollution in the air before Five lunges forward, practically sprinting towards the estate in the near distance. The young woman inclines their head over the narrowness of their shoulder, momentarily glancing at a fumbling Lance before they begins to stride ahead after the boy.
The lab is in flames. Flickering hues eat at the building from the inside out, charring the edges of the estate into a dark charcoal hue. Glass has popped from all angles of the building, rendering all purposes of the laboratory useless.
Ophira halts in their step in the middle of the sidewalk, eyes bored into Five as he continues helplessly towards the building. Alas, a burst of flame explodes from the depths of the estate, so grand that it manages to knock Five off of his feet with one great blow to the building.
Five sprawls out at Ophira's feet. Yet, the young woman isn't looking at him. They're witnessing how the estate that potentially holds the key to saving the world crumbles before their eyes. At last, Ophira tears their eyes away, glancing downwards to see Five stirring from his collision.
He props himself up onto his arms after a moment, grunting under his breath with the effort. It's written all over his face that the seriousness of the situation has set into him, underneath the amount of soot that stains his skin from the burst of flames that he had sharply avoided the worst of.
Five raises his head, and a sense of knowingness passes between him and Ophira as their eyes meet.
One thing is clear.
They're fucked.
✦ ˚ word count : 2 372