The Angel of Small Death || Five Hargreeves

xi. my axe is my buddy, he never makes me cry

Five Hargreeves approached the Lonely Lodge Inn with a newfound sense of purpose. He had a sense of purpose before, anyone he had ever met could attest to that, but after hitting a snag in his grand plan to save the world, his gusto fell flat.

It was 1982. The year of pharmacists being beaten with tire irons by the mafia and female astronauts. The year of questionable haircuts and even more questionable outfits. Everything was happening all at once. It was a rush being in a new time, it always was. The idea that you weren't supposed to be there was electrifying, allowing for any previously rebellious children to break free from the rules. That was why he used to like it. Back before all of the killing.

A car door opened in front of him, nearly blocking his root. Out stepped a man who was donning an outfit that seemed its only purpose could be for yodeling. Liv would have liked to see that. As he walked through the doors he noticed even more people wearing the same outfits. A convention of sorts was being held in the lodge, he was certain.

Five approached a lady with frizzy blonde hair who looked as if she worked at the hotel. "Excuse me."

"Uff da," she shrieked, standing up. She had been fixing a sigh reading 'Welcome Wisconsin Polka Association'. "You snuck up on me there! If you're looking for the cookies, we don't put 'em out till 3:00."

"I can hardly wait. Do you happen to know where the Midwest Soybean Society is meeting?"

"Sure do! Muskellunge Banquet Room. You looking for your mom? She in for the convention?"

Little did she know he was here for much more than that. He noticed a lady grabbing a snack from the vending machine, pulling some cash out of his pocket. "Could I get some change?"

"Oh, sure! I'll just look in my purse." The lady opened her fanny-pack, searching for change. "Only a nickel and a couple of dimes... oh! You.. are.. In... luck, mister." She handed him various coins which he grasped onto.

"You know, some say the best luck is to die at the right time." The lady looked taken-aback by his words, leading to him walking away from the conversation.

Five approached the vending machine in the lodge hallway, quickly putting in his coins before selecting his snack choice. He needed calories to be able to use his powers effectively. Sugar, caffeine, anything with little to no real substance behind it. Of course, the nut butter just had to become stuck in the goddamn machine.

He tried pressing the buttons again before shaking the machine, trying to break his candy bar loose. Perhaps he was just a bit wound-up as when he tried to hit the bar loose, his foot shattered the glass. He just really needed it. The lights on the vending machine flickered as Five reluctantly walked down the hall, if he got caught for breaking such a thing he would be thrown out in seconds.

As he approached the Muskellunge Banquet Room, he noticed a cake on the table, grabbing some frosting on his finger to eat. No one was allowed to say he didn't have a sweet tooth.

Above the sign for the room was an emergency fire axe. One thing was true about the 1980's, no one was smart enough to put the weapons into glass. Five took the axe off of the wall, arranging it in his hands until he felt comfortable. It was his last chance to go back. He could turn and never think about killing again. He could become a new person.

But at the end of the day, his family mattered to him more than his own dignity. He turned into the entrance of the board meeting room, axe in the air, as AJ Carmichael talked to his employees.

Carmichael leaned forward, suddenly recognizing Five, "You!"

"What is he doing?" One of the ladies asked.