Dysfunctional ~ F.Hargreeves

61} New Timeline, New Lives

~Six Years Later~

Six years after the universe reset. Six years after the Umbrella Academy inherited normal lives. Six years of normal. Except for a peculiar couple sitting inside of a recreation center playing euchre.
"Your play, Gene," Dr. Jean Thibedeau looked across the table at her husband.
"Thank you, Jean," Dr. Gene Thibedeau smiled at his wife before placing his card down on the table; it was a ten of clubs.
Their opponent, Merle, placed down an ace of clubs.
"Look at Merle," Jean mocked, "Bick dick move."
"Don't be using that language," Milt, Merle's partner, scolded.
"Or what?" Jean taunted, "You gonna lay me on your lap and spank me, Milt?"
"Nothing wrong with a good spankin'," Gene winked suggestively at Jean.

Jean threw down a nine of hearts triumphantly, "Trump. Thanks for the setup, Gene."
"You are welcome, Jean," Gene replied, "You just got euchred, peewee."
"To hell with this, Merle," Milt threw his cards down, ready to stand up and leave.
"Yeah," Merle agreed, "Let's find another table, huh?"
"Game's not over, fellas," Jean frowned.
"It is for us," Merle scoffed.
"Oh, all right," Jean fake sighed, "So I'll put you down as a forfeit, then?"
"Says who?" Milt scrunched up his face in a mix of confusion and anger.
"League rules," Gene smirked.
"Walk away, and you're out of the tournament," Jean finished, causing the two men to sit back down, "They're back."

In the corner of the room, Gene saw a man with a scruffy beard gesture for him to follow him. Gene cleared his throat and drew Jean's attention from the table and to the man instead.
"Gotta wiz," Jean slapped her hands on the table before getting up to join the man.
"Right behind you," Gene copied.
"Oh, for Christ's sake," Milt groaned.
"Come on, Don't get your boxers in a bunch," Jean complained, "We'll be right back."

They grabbed their coats on the way out and made their way to the parking garage, where they found the man waiting near the trunk of a car.
"I'm Dr. Jean Thibedeau and this is my husband, Dr. Gene Thibedeau," Jean introduced themselves.
"Don't need your names," The man groaned and pulled out a sad looking carry-on, "I don't care who you are, you match the description and that's all that matters to me."
"Are you the big boss man?" Jean rubbed her hands together in excitement.
The man laughed in her face, "Honey, do I look like the boss man? Hell no. But I do work for him, just like everyone else you've done trades with. So, cash or trade, straight up."
Jean started to dig through the carry-on, coming across some re-elect JFK buttons on a shirt and a few strange book covers, but they meant nothing compared to the real gold at the bottom.
"What do you see, Jean?" Gene peered over her shoulder to find her holding two side-by-side VHS tapes; one with Allison Hargreeves on the cover, the other with another actress.
"Oh, Gene, look," Jean sighed, awestruck, "Love on Loan. Gene, look at the name. Hargreeves!"
"Oh, yeah," He giggled, "Yeah, yes. I see it."

"Ten grand for the pair," The man smirked.
"Ten grand?" Gene stuttered, baffled at the price, "We were told we had a deal with the boss man for some information."
"Nah, that's with him, not me," The man grinned wickedly.
"Well, the best we can do is five."
"This ain't a negotiation, pal. Ten grand or fuck off."
Jean sat down the VHS tapes and pulled out an envelope of cash that was immediately snatched from her.
"Good call," The man walked away, ready to count his cash.
"That's not the deal, bucko," A woman sneered and pointed a gun at him, shooting him in the head right then and there.
"Holy shit!" Jean covered her mouth, "Did you do that, hun?"
"No," Gene shook his head.
The woman slowly emerged from the shadows of the garage with a hood over her head and a- what seemed to be -pregnant belly.
"Don't crap your pants, Gene, but I think that's the boss man," Jean whispered to her husband.
"No way," Gene adjusted his glasses, "Jean, I think the boss man may just be a woman."