i. death in the family
KNOX VIENNA MORRIS was many things. She was smart, brave, and deceptively beautiful. For a man with no heart, and no true friends, she was also the perfect personal assistant. Easy to talk to, never willing to fight with her employer, and always, always on time.
This morning, Knox Morris was hopping around on one foot, reading aloud the file in her hand. She was dressed for the day - wearing a no nonsense dress that hugged her curves nicely but not too tightly, one tall black high heeled pump, and small tasteful pearl earrings. In her hand, she held a file that contained material considered confidential to the public. To her, it was normal information.
"To my closest acquaintance," she read, eyes scanning the page. She was still hobbling around, attempting to slip on her other heel. To an outsider, she looked insane, but Knox Morris was too busy to worry about what others thought. "I leave my life's work and data ... Luther Hargreeves will receive one sixth of my fortune and estate."
The black heel slipped onto her foot and she sighed, finally relaxing enough to stand still. With eyes still scanning the papers, she collected her things - a black tote bag that held her calendar, wallet, and umbrella. She was sure to tuck the file into the tote with care, as to not bend the corners or wrinkle the pages.
When ready, she flipped the lights in her apartment out, being sure to turn the air conditioning off and the crockpot containing her dinner of pot roast on. She double checked the time, positive that she had more than enough time to get to work, then exited her home.
The drive to the house where she spent most of her weekdays was easy enough to do in her sleep. Knox Morris expertly took the turns and curves necessary to drive her downtown. Above her, the sky was turning the light yellow shades of early morning. The sun glinted off of windows and cars, causing Knox to squint as she drove.
She was used to it.
As the high-rises of downtown rose above the skyline, Knox relaxed. She was fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, which wouldn't be an issue. Sir Reginald Hargreeves was always up early, sitting in his office with a cup of coffee in front of him as he wrote aimlessly in one of his numerous moleskin journals.
Knox was coming in purely by request. The day, a Thursday, was usually spent at home, filing and tending to press releases for the Academy. Sir Hargreeves had asked specifically for help on this Thursday, just so he could walk through his will and testament with a pair of unbiased eyes. It was a favor. A favor that would add a healthy number to her bank account.
Like clockwork, Knox found a parking spot on the side of the street. She was sure to edge the vehicle close to the curb, and then she grabbed her black tote. Once on the sidewalk, she smoothed down her dress, and checked her reflection in the window of her car.
Her brown hair was curled softly over her shoulders, and her eyes trailed meticulously over the pieces that framed her face. Happy with her appearance, Knox turned on her heel and made her way down the street, stopping only when she reached the imposing cement block known to the public as the Umbrella Academy.
It was shoehorned between two red brick buildings, gray palette standing out in the midst of warmer tones. The iron gate that protected the premises was locked and closed. In front stood two men. They had their hands wrapped around the other's, and they were staring at the building with starry eyes. Fans.
"Excuse me," Knox said softly as she passed them, ignoring the surprised looks she received as she pulled open the iron gate and stepped up to the imposing front door of the building. No one spent much time leaving the premises except for her.
The front door swung open as it always did, and standing immediately inside were two greeters. Knox smiled at the two, closing the door behind her before saying, "Good morning."
"Miss Morris," Pogo said first. His voice was old and weathered, matching his graying hair and wrinkled face. His voice escaped from the body of a chimp, dressed in formal wear, smile growing on his monkey face. "How are you?"
"Wonderful," Knox said, turning to accept the smile. She'd met Pogo on her first day on the job, nearly three years ago. Of course, at first, she had been thrown at his appearance. After all, not many people were aware of the talking chimp. Over the years, they'd grown to be close acquaintances. Now, no one noticed anything odd about the other.
Next to Pogo stood Grace. A tall woman with impeccable blond hair and red tinted lips. She was wearing what she always did - a housewife dress with a pink pattern that ended mid calf. She was smiling the smile she always did - bright white teeth and raised eyebrows, promoting a sense of calmness.
Like Pogo, Grace had her own secrets. Although she walked, talked, and looked like a regular woman, she was so much more. Grace had been created by Sir Hargreeves nearly twenty years ago. A robot made to care for the prodigies of the Umbrella Academy. Now, with the house empty of anything but Hargreeves and a talking monkey, Grace spent time canoodling Knox.
"Hello, dear," she said in that soft velvety tone her voice always had. She held out a mug of hot coffee towards Knox. "Care for breakfast?"
Knox smiled and accepted the drink, ignoring the hotness as it slipped down her throat. "Hi, Grace. I'm okay, thank you."
As a unit, the trio moved through the foyer, under the chandelier that lit up the floor. Knox's eyes scanned the room, noticing that the usual notes of Sir Hargreeves weren't visible. His house slippers weren't by the main entrance, and Knox couldn't smell his usually breakfast of eggs and bacon. She turned and glanced at Pogo.
"He knows I'm coming, doesn't he?" She pondered aloud.
Pogo smiled, showing his sharp teeth. "Of course," he said. "He must still be asleep."
Knox's eyebrows fell. The explanation might have fooled someone who hadn't known Sir Reginald Hargreeves for long - someone that hadn't spent nearly every day over the last three years helping him with daily tasks. She knew better.
Moving softly but quickly, Knox made her way to the sitting room, eyeing the bust of a wild animal hanging on the wall above the large fireplace. She dropped her tote bag on the closest couch, then set her coffee down on a nearby table.
Behind her, Pogo asked, "Miss Morris?"
Knox plastered a smile on her face and turned. "Yes, Pogo?"
"It seems as if Sir Hargreeves has forgotten of your meeting," he wandered around the coffee table until he was facing Knox head on. "Maybe you'd like Grace to make you breakfast while I see if he's up?"
Not understanding or appreciating the small tone Pogo was taking with her, Knox gave a tight smile. Something was up. Part of Knox's extended job at the Academy revolved around her mandated punctuality. She'd never been late. She'd always walked into the house exactly at nine in the morning, ready for the day. But that wasn't all. While she was always on time, Sir Reginald Hargreeves was always, always early.
So where was he today?
"Please, Miss Morris," Pogo tried again, closing his eyes as if he were tired. "Today is not the day to indulge in your fantasies. Please, allow Grace to make you breakfast."
Like a haze, Knox faintly registered the sound of Grace in the kitchen, frying something that sounded and smelled all too like bacon. But past that, way far in the distance, were the faint sounds of sirens. Police sirens. Ambulance sirens. Knox's eyes trailed back to Pogo.
"What's going on?" She asked quietly, knowing the chimp had picked up on the sirens as well. "Pogo, what aren't you telling me?"
"Miss Morris," he tried.
But Knox was already rushing back to the foyer, up the grand staircase in the middle of the room. Her heart was pounding in time with her heels clicking on the ground. For some reason, her breath was shallow and labored. Behind her, Pogo raced up the stairs as quickly as his body could take him. He was trying to protect the young assistant - trying to stop her from seeing something she didn't want to. But she was too fast.
Knox Vienna Morris rushed down the vast hallways of the Academy, ears thumping the rhythm of her heartbeat. She moved as fast as her body could go, then pushed herself further. When she got to Sir Hargreeves's room, she didn't even knock on the door. She pushed it with all of her strength, then stood back as it swung open, revealing the pale, dead face of her employer.
Bile rose in Knox's throat as her body reeled back, into Pogo. She tripped and landed on her behind, hands covering her mouth to stifle the scream building there.
There was no way to deny that Sir Reginald Hargreeves was a dead man. His eyes were cracked open and clouded over, stuck staring at the door for eternity. His chest was no longer moving, and he wasn't griping about his experiments as he always did.
He was dead. And Knox was staring at him.
"I'm sorry," Pogo said.