the umbrella academy season two
(book #2 in my Five x OC series)
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"Wednesday, you have always been more than just a dream to me."
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in which a young girl joins the Hargreeves family and ends up going back in time to save the world-again
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FIV...
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"Elliot, did you develop these photos yourself?" Five asked, pointing to the wall before him. It was littered with photos of each of his siblings in the alleyway, pretty nicely developed.
"Of course. Can't exactly drop that stuff off at the neighborhood Fotomat," Elliot explained, taking a spoonful of his cereal. His voice was muffled as he crunched down on the food. "Government has eyes everywhere."
"I didn't see a darkroom," I said as Five continued looking through Elliot's stuff. I opted to sit down on the couch and eat a bowl of cereal. It was some random one I'd never heard of, but it was super sugary. I felt my tongue buzzing at the taste.
"Yeah, I converted the hallway closet," Elliot explained, motioning plainly to the hallway.
Green eyes met mine, and I made a little motion saying 'Ask him'. Five pulled the Frankel Footage from his pocket, quickly crossing off the date with a random pen before leaning over to hand it to Elliot. "Can you develop this for us?"
Elliot took it into his hands, inspecting it carefully. He gave a soft little nod. "Huh. 'Frankel Footage'. Friends of yours?"
"Cousins on my robot mother's side," Five retorted jokingly. He smiled grimly at Elliot, his oddly asshole-like personality shining through. "Can you do it for us or not?"
"Sure I can!" Elliot exclaimed, a little to eager to be helping us out (how is he not freaked out by two kids who can spatial jump, are in love, and cuss like it's their job? if i were literally anyone else in the world I wouldn't trust me or Five for a second, which actually might be our problem).
"How long?" I questioned, taking another spoonful of sugary cereal. "How long will it take, I mean."
"Well," Elliot began, beginning to pace around the living room. "I mean, I'm running low on acetic acid. Beeker's Cameras is open today, but it's two miles away. I mean, I'd have to take the bus. On the other hand, Gibson's is only ten blocks away, but I gotta cut through the park and there's pigeons—"
"Elliot."
He finally snapped out of his long winding rant, turning to face me, shrugging. "It's like five, maybe six hours." The police recorder (I don't know what this shit is called, alright? those things that police use to communicate with each other, whatever. ACAB. all cops fucking suck. you think otherwise, take it up with me and Five. we have a thing or two to say about it.) whizzed to life, someone on the line saying that there was a code 3-15 at the Holbrook Sanitarium, which is where...Diego...is being held (oh shit!). When asked what a 3-15 was, Elliot responded calmly. "Fugitives on the run."
