Sarcasm | Five Hargreeves

28 | dear old dad

The first day on the job didn't go at all as Y/N had expected it to. She was involved with special forces, most of them dealing with hostage and gang situations throughout Texas. Since she came from the future, the girl was aware that SWAT wouldn't be created until 1964, so the station was a tad bit disorganized in its manner. Fitting in with the rest of the team was proving to be difficult, seeing as most of them hadn't come off on the right start, but Y/N made it work. As she always did.

The first mission was in a bank, which Y/N felt was humorously ironic. She didn't need to use the fancy gear and gadgets to gain a win for the Dallas police, and that's how she gained her way straight to the higher ups. Y/N was at the top of their minds, becoming their favorite in such a short amount of time. She was the first woman to be offered a job in the special ops, and eventually, into the president's secret service. As tempting as it sounded, she was afraid it would attract too much attention from a certain trio of hitmen she hoped to leave behind. So, she stooped below the radar.

Around the middle of 1962, she was getting severely bored and every mission felt like a mere chore or an errand run. Everything had stopped being thrilling and fun after she left Europe all those years ago, so she wondered why it took so much for the burrowing feeling to sink in once more.

After she saw the construction of the Umbrella Academy in the once empty green lot, however, things became a little more hectic. Any thought she had was consumed with the idea of Reginald Hargreeves, her eccentric billionaire father. She used her remaining resources as a special agent to stalk him, take in his every move. From his work in the Umbrella Company, to his residency in her old home of over 40 bedrooms...wherever he went she was right over his shoulder.

Reginald, ever the perceptive man he was, soon found out about the second shadow lurking behind him that wasn't his own. So when the girl finally confronted him in his own home after a casual business gala he threw, the billionaire was colored intrigued.

Y/N felt a strange surge of familiarity as she stepped through the glass double-doors at the entrance of the academy, the stained umbrella taunting her like a primary school bully. She didn't think she had ever seen that many people in the academy until today, each corner bustling with different people of equal importance.

There were rumors of the elegance of Reginald Hargreeves' parties and galas, but she was almost pleasantly surprised at the sight of the numerous waiters and long gowns of the guests. The man of honor, of course, was surrounded by his own posse of supporters, the rich laughs and chortles echoing through the spacious living room.

Y/N frowned, edging closer to the group as the twinkle of the monocle finally came into view. Her dear old dad looked nothing but the same. His wrinkled face, his sleek silvery hair. The bastard had the same stupid mustache as well. A pang of deja vu erupted in the pits of Y/N's stomach as Reginald's cold, steely gaze made contact with hers and her frown deepened as his calculated expression observed her in keen interest.

"Ah. I expected an encounter from you," he stated, a sharp edge to his voice. "The person who has been watching my every move is merely a child, nothing worth my time. To think the others believed you as a threat."

Y/N sneered, her lips curling in disdain. "The blade itself incites to deeds of violence."

Reginald's eyes twinkled in recognition and his face slightly fell as he straightened his already pristine posture. "Homer...The Liad. You know your ancient Greek, young lady."

"I learnt all his works as a child," the girl recalled, nonchalantly grasping a drink off of the tray of an unknowing waiter. "The quote I told you pertains to the idea that actions and their consequences can often be underestimated, leading to unforeseen outcomes."

"I see," Reginald drawled out, his hand stroking the whisky grays of his beard in wonder. "What brings you here, child? It's not everyday the youths of this generation perceive the greats of literacy in Homer."

Y/N pursed her lips, twirling the thin glass of her drink around in her fingers. With a sudden boost of confidence, she downed the drink, it's instant effects hitting her like a train. Hopefully the assurance of a little alcohol could push her to ask for the help she really needed.

"I--"

She paused, the earlier confidence escaping through her like a bullet train as soon as she made eye contact with Reginald once again.

"Well? Out with it, girl."

"You're--you are my..."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, and she felt the sudden need to look anywhere but the man in front of her in an overwhelming feeling of apprehension. Suddenly, the sight of a long lost familiar face came into view, and the girl gasped in a mix of shock and glee.

"Mom?"

Grace was as beautiful as ever, her shoulder length locks of blonde resting elegantly over her shoulders as she turned to Y/N, thrown off by what the girl had called her. The woman's red painted lips parted in shock, and the clicking of her heels sounded as she approached the pair in curiosity.

Slowly, a hesitant smile curled over Grace's red lips and Y/N felt her heart squeeze at the sight. It was one she hadn't had the comfort of seeing in years. "I'm sorry, but, I think you are a little confused, darling. I'm not your mother. Are you lost?"

Y/N couldn't respond, her words stuck in her throat as she opened her mouth only for no sound to come out. "I-- no. I know you, you're Grace. And you are my mom. And you...you are my father."

Reginald stared at her, bewildered. He obviously couldn't believe a word that came out of the strange girl's mouth, but her quote of Homer had caught him a little off guard. A part of him believed it couldn't be impossible. However, his words betrayed his conscience, and they came out much harsher than usual.

"Nonsense!" he spat, shooting up instantly. He blocked Y/N's view of Grace protectively, gripping his cane as he pointed it in the direction of the intruder in malice. "I will not allow you to come into my home and spew this cow-slaver. Leave, at once!"

Y/N grimaced, and she exhaled in defeat as she took one last look at Grace before turning out the door, slamming it behind her. The commotion in the party had stopped at Reginald's demands, but resumed as soon as Y/N left the building, the clamor replacing the previous tenseness of the atmosphere.