Prosthetics¹||Five Hargreeves

One

Fall was one of Matthew's favorite seasons, it always has been for as long as he could remember. He couldn't pin point on why it was his favorite either.

Maybe it was color change of leaves on trees turning into different shades of brown, orange, red, and yellow. Or maybe it was because it wasn't as hot out and was starting to get cooler.

If he wanted to he could wear one of his million pairs of jeans that he had, but of course the Commission had a strict dress code. Suits for men, and dresses or skirts for women.

Matthew thought the dress code was a bit sexist in his opinion, so to prove it, one time he purposely wore a skirt. The Handler was not too happy about that one.

He also started a protest that they should let them wear whatever they wanted, more so if they were gender fluid, trans, non-binary, etc. Like usual though, the Handler turned it down and stuck to protocol.

As of now, Matthew stood in the hallway, leaning up against the wall with one hand in his pocket and the other that held a lighter in front of him, they say to never play with fire.

But when you're at your lowest it's the only thing that can keep you occupied and give in to your attention, that's how Matthew felt, he felt at his lowest, but it was only because the nightmares suddenly came back.

The last time he had a decent night of sleep was about a week in a half ago, since then, he's avoided sleep.

Suddenly the intercom throughout the Commission came on, "Matthew Monroe, please report to my office immediately" he heard the Handler say over the intercom.

Matthew really hated his last name, and not that he had anything against Marilyn Monroe, but people used to make fun of him and ask if he was related to her.

He began to walk to her office, he got to the wooden double doors and went into her office while shutting the doors behind him. The first thing he had noticed was that there was a man about his age.

Well in his mid twenties, or possibly slightly older, still no where past the age of twenty eight though. Matthew looked away when the man looked in his direction, the Handler stood between them, smiling.

"I want you to meet our newest member, Number Five," the Handler started. The man looked at Matthew from the corner of his eye while he then turned to him.

"I'm–"

"I know who you are, I heard her call you in here... Monroe" Five said, barely smirking that you really had to stare at him to notice.

The other man just rolled his eyes while he shoved the lighter that he forgot he was still holding into his pocket.

Matthew then looked over at the Handler who seemed to almost be checking out Five, "Hey, why am I even here?" he spoke, distracting her attention away from Five.

"To show him around, train him, and be his friend of course."

Both of the boys scoffed at the 'friend' part which made them look at each other, "First of all, I work alone. Second, I'm not being some hobo's friend- no I'd rather go see Satan himself than do that shit!" Matthew protested.

"Hey!" Five said after realizing what Matthew said about him.

The Handler clicked her tounge while she walked over to her desk and sat down, signaling the two to sit down in the chairs that were on the opposite side of where she sat.

Matthew had practically forced himself to sit down while Five peacefully sat down when the Handler said so.

Sometimes when Matthew was around the Handler he wanted to just light the bitch on fire, it would make sense, he always had his lighter on him. And it wasn't because he smoked either.