The Hidden Number (008) | F. Hargreeves

Lost Cause

Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated for nearly a year, I feel like a piece of crap :( Basically, I've been really, really, SUUUUPERR busy with school and then my other stories and suddenly I had like ZERO time to update! I've had this chapter in the making for like.....7? 8 months? It's kinda pathetic really...

Anyways, this chapter ain't the best, but I hope you enjoy!

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𝑴𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏

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Last night's trial run had gone well actually. Once Five saw that Max wasn't with any missing parts or distorted features, he was relieved. Max had assured him that there was no inner troubles either, although teleporting did leave a rather weird feeling in his gut. Similar to that you get on the drop of a roller coaster. Weird, but harmless.

Needless to say, they will be travelling by teleportation a lot more often now.

Watching as Lance goes into his car after leaving what Max assumes is his apartment, Five grabs his hand and teleports them into it

Five lands in the passenger's seat, glaring at the man who exclaims in shock, while Max lands in the back with Lance's dog, which he is delighted to see.

"Aw, you have a dog! Cute!" He says with a grin, ruffling the dog's fur which, although still barking at the strangers in his owner's car, wags its tail at the touch.

Lance briefly turns to look back at him but before he can, Five advances on him, putting a knife up to his neck, making him pale in fear. Max watched wordlessly as he continued to play with the dog in the back.

"One chance," Five says sternly, "that's all you've got. ONE chance to tell me exactly what's going on in that lab."

"I—I manufacture prosthetics for fake patients," Lance stammers, looking at Five rather than the knife at his neck that he so dearly fears. "I bill the insurance companies and then sell them for cash on the black market."

"Including eyeballs?" Five asks impatiently.

"Yeah, they're my biggest seller," the man says, still evidently terrified, "I mean, they sell like hotcakes. I-I-I've got a list; a waiting list, probably 20 buyers."

Five nods firmly. "So, the serial number I told you..."

Lance looks sheepish. "....Could've already been bought," he admits dejectedly, "yes, off—off the books."

Five sighs, looking more irritated. "I needed that list, Lance," he says in a cold tone. "Names and numbers, and I need it now!"

"I don't have it," Lance says shakily. "I mean, not on me, the only copy's in my safe at the lab."