A bend in space-time (Season 3) - The Umbrella Academy

Chapter 5: The Nexus

Chronological markers: this scene fits in as a deleted scene from The Umbrella Academy, season 3, at the very end of episode 1 (when Marcus discovers the Kugelblitz in the basement of Hargreeves Mansion and disappears).

Suggested soundtrack: Florence + the Machine - Mother ; Always on the Run - Lenny Kravitz. TW: reference to drug and alcohol use.

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April 2 2019, 09:58 pm

The evening was already well underway when I finally found Klaus at the bar, deep in conversation with the lobsters. I think he was talking to them about Ben: about how he had recently lost him a second time, wondering whether – in some way – he had found him again or not. I don't know if he realizes just how different Sparrow Ben is. For me, it only took a split second to notice.

How is it possible that, starting from the same point – genetically and experientially – a person can become so different? This question brings me back to Five's words about our Doppelgängers. I wonder about how 'Ben' and his feathered flock were raised. From the little I've seen of them, they seemed, on the whole, rather arrogant and self-assured, yet competent and outwardly united. Even their ridiculous cube. Clearly, everything the Umbrella Academy has never been.

Something Klaus told me – while we were leaving the Hotel Obsidian to reconnect a bit more with our past – left me thoughtful: amid this morning's brawl, Reginald Hargreeves allegedly told him that - after witnessing the failure of his first selection - he had ultimately decided not to adopt them, and got this ego-inflated bunch instead. 'Failure' is a word Hargreeves probably doesn't use often, but I'm wary of his statements, which can always be a form of manipulation.

We made our way up Seventh Avenue, where the hustle and bustle are always dense until very late in the evening. We headed into the alleys we used to hang out in, where the clubs and bars of The City are nestled, and where we used to drown our mishaps in spirits and wild concerts. The scene of many encounters we often regretted, of a few epic misadventures we now try to joke about. But above all – often – of bursts of laughter and - sometimes - moments of grace.

We needed to check that these places were still there... and to rediscover that part of ourselves, in the late hours of our first night here.

As the waiter places our glasses of cachaça on the golden oak table, I sigh with contentment. We toast in memory of the happy days in Rio, which we carry within us, even if they happened in another time. I won't bother Klaus tonight about his blood alcohol level: he seems to be finding his marks, and for now, that's what matters to me.

"It's mind-boggling," he tells me. "Even the world spirits menu is the same, down to the last letter."
"What's incredible is that you forgot the owner's name, but you remember that."

I smile while absentmindedly scribbling on my napkin. A square, inside another, and yet another, next to concentric hexagons, which I'm about to connect. Again. He watches me quietly, without saying anything, then lifts his head to observe the room around us.

Located on the ground floor of a low brick building typical of this neighborhood in The City, the Nexus Bar occupies number 505 on the street. From the outside, behind verdigris-colored woodwork, it's hard to imagine the stunning interior nestled within. Mahogany-paneled walls, inspired by modernism like a work by Gaudí, with bottles and mirrors reflecting the golden glow of lanterns. This place is a facade, a cover, for a small concert hall hidden in the basement, hosting illegal underground events. Accessible through a single door leading to a narrow staircase that descends into the depths of this city that never sleeps. And Klaus casually asks me:

"What was your girlfriend's name again, the one who first got us in here? Sigrid?"
"Ingrid."
I draw another line on the napkin, ending it with a dot.
"She's also the one who ended up dumping me and getting us blacklisted because she found you too clingy. Like Lloyd, in the end. And maybe also because at the time, you decided to learn to play the kazoo."
"Hey, don't belittle my talent: I was a virtuoso."
He leans in and whispers to me:
"But what luck that the owner didn't recognize us."