• chapter 2 •

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• WEDNESDAY •
* 1963 *

We ended up back in the alleyway, the one where we first appeared

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We ended up back in the alleyway, the one where we first appeared. Five was adjusting his blazer, glancing upwards at the building before us. I met his gaze, looking straight into the window above us. The curtains suddenly closed, and upon further inspection I noted that there was a camera (?) on top of the roof. Five turned to me. He raised his eyebrows, and I held out my hand.

A second later, we blinked into the building, appearing at a set of stairs. We carefully tread up them, my hand burning. Once we made it to the top, Five knocked on the door before him. Instead of that one opening, a different door to our left swung open, a average looking white man peeked his head out. "What do you want?"

Five quickly concocted a lie. "Hi, I'm selling encyclopedias for my youth group. I was curious if—"

The door shut squarely in our faces (rude). Five's grip on my hand tightened as we blinked into the man's home. We landed in what appeared to be a kitchen. There was a door to our side. The kitchen was (in my opinion) stunning, although small. It had a sort of blue undertone to it, with blue tiles and cabinets.

The man who had answered the door let out a shriek, fumbling to open a drawer and pull out a small knife. He pointed it at me and Five, panting. "How'd you two do that?"

"Don't have time to explain," Five remarked. He made and attempt to move forward, but the man simply held the knife out further.

"You from the Pentagon? Huh?!" The man persisted.

I made a sort of scrunched up grimace (who even likes the pentagon? no one, that's who) at his accusation. "Definitely not."

"CIA? FBI! KGB?" He continued to guess.

Five rolled his eyes, very clearly losing patience as he pointed to a coffee pot a few feet away. "Is that fresh?" He blinked over without me, and the man screamed. Five poured himself a cup.

"What—H-How?"

"Are you really taking us for amateurs?" I teased. The man didn't take it lightly, because his face paled greatly. I glanced down at the counter beside me, finding a pack of Camels, a bright blue lighter, and a small ashtray with a few stray cigarettes. "I'm joking. Well...okay, whatever. Can I have a cigarette?"

"You're 10," the man contradicted. He backed up even more as Five took a long, loud sip of his coffee.

"Rude," I muttered, reaching for the pack. I flipped it open, pulling out one cigarette. Grabbing the lighter from the counter, I plucked the cigarette in my mouth, hovering my hand beside it as I lit it up. Taking a long drag, I pulled it out. The smoke billowed out from my mouth, small little coughs coming out (I haven't smoked in two years, what did you expect?). "I'm 57. And anyway, it's rude to turn a lady down from a cigarette."

𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢💛              (FIVE HARGREEVES X OC) Where stories live. Discover now