𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒

1 | 𝐎𝐍𝐄

BADASS STAPLER

✧

Eleanore watched the trees go by from the backseat of the taxi with a cigarette in her mouth. She travelled home right after her last concert in London and asked Elliot to send her package to her residence, so she only had her purse. The driver eyed her anxiously. Eleanore didn't appear to be more than fifteen, altough that wasn't the truth. She was a thirty-year-old adult, just like her siblings (however everyone who had talked to her even once claimed that she was just as childish as a bad teenager).

"Are you alright, lass?" the driver asked turning the car wheel to the right as he eyed her once again. When she just hummed he spoke again. "Where am I taking ya?"

"I thought I've already told you the adress." she answered as she prepared to give the destination to the man again.

"No, no, I perfectly remember the adress." the man chuckled and looked trough the rear-view mirror with his old eyes. "I was asking why are you goin' there?" he explained and frowned as Eleanore threw her cigarette out of the window.

"I'm going to my father's funeral." she answered and waited for the drivers reacrion. Everyone thought that Eleanore was less and less herself every time she lost contact with someone. Sure, that was true for Five and Diego; when Five left she was barely able to eat a sandwitch and her heart broke when Diego stopped talking to her - but they weren't Reginald. He was the man she despised the most and every Hargreeves knew that she'll only attend the funeral to dance on the coffin or throw a cigarette in the ashes - if she even attends the funeral.

"I'm sorry, kid." The driver said as they drove past a bank and Eleanore's mind filled with memories.

"Don't be." she wishpered and the man had to listen carefully to understand her words. "He was an asshole."

✧

"This is Jim Hellerman, reporting live to Channel 2 from the Capital West Bank at Main and Sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages."

For the people held as hostages, the situation seemed rather despairing. The said men were at every door and communicated with each other trough walkie-talkies. One of the man whose head was bald and wore a long grey coat talked agressively trough one of the walkies with a gun in his hand as he walked trough a short corridor. He seemed angry as he stopped and cursed loudly - which caught everyone's ear even trough the horrified screams and shouts. As the man turned to his left, he saw a girl with dark curly hair in a school uniform. He didn't bother to think how she got there as he commanded her . "Hey, get back with the others!" he blurted.