Sarcasm | Five Hargreeves

13 | have you ever burnt your rugae?

They reappeared in a white gazebo, the stone, dome shaped structure shielding Five's eyes from the blinding sun. Ahead, he could make out the scattered buildings of the Commission, the green grass, and the vintage cars parked along the roundabout. The timeline they were in was, and remained, 1955.

Five felt a pang of deja vu as he walked down the dirt path towards the main office, side-to-side with the Handler. He recalled making the same mistake 5 years ago.

Suddenly, he stopped midstep, whipping around for any sight of the girl he had traveled with. Y/N was nowhere in sight.

"Looking for your little girlfriend, hm?" The Handler clicked her tongue, placing a perfectly manicured hand on Five's shoulder, pulling him forward impatiently.

"Where the hell is she," Five snapped, his shoulders tensing as the Handler dug her fingernails into his shoulder blade as a warning.

"She is being briefed by her new partner," The Handler cooed, amused by the sight of Five's disdain. "I've decided to separate you, just in case the influence of your family knocks you off task."

Five scoffed, restraining from the urge to roll his eyes. "That won't be happening," he lied through his teeth.

"We'll have to see," the Handler raised a brow, a knowing glint in her piercing blue eyes as she continued to pull him forward. "I think we both know how unpredictable you can be. I've never met anyone quite like you."

Five sighed, and continued to match her long strides, shoving his hands into his pockets as he listened to her drone on.

"Hazel and Cha-Cha, for example, are talented, certainly, but...they can't see the big picture. Your spunk, your enterprising spirit, well, it reminds me a great deal of myself, if I may be so vainglorious."

This time, Five allowed himself to roll his eyes, turning his head away from her so she wouldn't be able to see.

"If things work out for you here, as well as Y/N of course, you could potentially make a fine successor, Five."

The pair arrived inside of the building, which was bustling with the corporate management as phones rang and people roamed with hurried, busy steps. The Handler took off her black trench coat, revealing a tight black cocktail dress right under it as she mindlessly threw it to one of the workers.

"I would like to discuss the logistics of my family's safety at your earliest convenience," Five said, following the woman up the stairs. "As well as the topic on Y/N's placement here."

"Such chutzpah," the Handler remarked, trying to match up with Five's hurried steps up the stairs. "Slow down, Five. All in good time. In fact, now that you've finally agreed to work with us, we've got all the time in the world."

~~~

The Commission seemed to be like any other established company out there, from its bustling atmosphere to the blandness of the cafeteria. Looks can really be deceiving, huh?

Y/N had appeared in a separate room, where she was then escorted by an unusually short man with glasses into a quiet waiting room. There were no Five and no Handler in sight, and if she had to be honest, there were really no people at all except for the receptionist who was typing furiously on her computer.

The girl sat alone, looking around at her surroundings. Everything was old, from the technology, to the uniforms, and to the way people talked and held themselves. If she'd had to guess, the Commission was located in the mid-1950s.

Suddenly, there was a fast whooshing sound and then a loud clank, right under Y/N's chair and she jumped, alarmed. She looked up to the receptionist to see if she had anything to say, but the woman remained unphased as she continued to click and clack.