[✔️] 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐾 𝐹𝐴𝑆𝑇 | 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐆𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒
"𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑎𝑘𝑒, 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑝𝑒'𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ."
—𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑢𝑘𝑖 𝑀𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑘𝑎𝑚𝑖

𝐈
— 𝑅𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑑 —
𝑅𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑎. 1989

𝐒𝐈𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒 had only one mission in mind as he walked down the hall of a home—the owners of said home, he was foreign to, but that didn't matter in the least to him.

He ignored the flickering lights and the staring people as he walked to the end of the hall, his eyes remaining fixated on the very thing he had come for. He pulled off his leather glove, muttering a soft "Extraordinary!" as his prize became clear in sight.

The baby that was cradled comfortably in her sitting mother's arms slept soundly, wrapped snugly in a small, blue blanket. The family that sat around the mother stared in shock as Reginald leaned forward and grazed a finger against the baby's cheek.

He looked up at the mother, who was watching him with wide eyes, and demanded, "How much do you want for it?"

𝐈𝐈
— 𝑅𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑑 —

It was only a few days later that Reginald strode towards the large building he called home, with seven strollers—all numbered one through seven—being pushed behind him by women dressed in maroon.

It was a brisk afternoon, but Reginald hardly felt the breeze with his long coat tightly wrapped around him and excitement cloaking him. His chest was swelled up with pride as he walked along the sidewalk, his sleek walking cane in hand as he kept his head held up high.

He had acquired some of the special children that he had been interested in (only seven out of forty-three, yes, but still seven nonetheless). And it was great anticipation that led the way towards the home, each step bringing him closer to the exceptional children he was soon to raise.

Finally, he approached the iron gates that guarded the entrance of the tall home. He glanced over at the statue of a roaring lion that stood fiercely on one side, another of the exact same resting on the opposite side, before pushing the gates open.

Reginald didn't head inside just yet. Rather, he turned around as the strollers surrounded him, and, through the gold monocle, he inspected the logo of the umbrella that was printed on the backs of the strollers.

It was the beginning.

𝐈𝐈𝐈
— 𝐿𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 —
𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦.

Luther was jerked awake by the shrill beeping of his alarm that sat next to his bed. Drowsily, he pressed the snooze button on the alarm clock that told him it was twenty-eight minutes past eleven, and let out a small grunt as he slid off of the bed.

His eyes were barely open as he slowly walked out of his room, and that was probably the reason why he hit his forehead on the doorframe, something that had become routine for him. One would think he'd avoid it after four years of it happening, but alas . . .

He flicked a few switches on the transmitter that was pushed on the very right of the counter, watching as the small circles lit up before brushing past it.

He then focused his attention on the small plant that sat near the edge, inspecting the vivid green leaves as he gently grazed his fingers against them. He picked up the plastic watering can that rested beside it, and poured a decent amount of water into the soil before deeming it good enough. There was little life on the Moon, and anything he had, he took good care of.