Chapter Text
Klaus
In hindsight, they should’ve known Reginald would’ve never let them leave. They knew too much. Three days after arriving back in 2019, the men had come for them. Honestly, Klaus wondered what’d taken them so long. He wasn’t stupid enough to think they’d been so allusive Reginald’s men had struggled to find them. They weren’t exactly good at blending in, himself included. Himself super included.
At least half of the siblings had escaped. That was good. And, even better, they even knew that they were taken, which was frankly a huge improvement to last time Klaus had been kidnapped.
He should have a punch card. Only one more kidnapping and he got a free muffin with his side of trauma!
He wasn’t surprised he was the weak link they’d managed to nab. He knew how to fight, technically, it’s just that it’d be a cold day in hell when he actually used the skills Reginald taught them. He could still here his father’s voice in his head. Straighten that right hook, Number Four. Correct your stance, Number Four. Keep them off balance, Number Four.
His muscles ached just from the memories. Hey, how about you go fuck yourself old man and I don’t do that.
He was a touch more surprised they’d grabbed Luther. Luther was supposed to be untouchable for the one simple reason that he was a giant half-gorilla. Kind of. Was it half gorilla? Or just like… gorilla-ish? Pont was, their enemies had come prepared. Still, he was proud of the big guy. It’d taken five tranquilizers to take him down. He’d seen bigger men taken down with a lot less. (Wink wink.)
Diego’s kidnapping had come as a much bigger shock. Dollar store Batman? Kidnapped! Klaus had been unconscious at the time, so he wasn’t sure how it’d happened. However, he could not wait to get that story off Allison as soon as she rescued their sorry asses. He hoped it involved an acrobatic trick gone wrong. Seriously, how could a guy who controlled projectiles be taken out by a tranquilizer dart?
Klaus had woken up in the back of a truck with a pounding headache over ten minutes ago, and he was bored. Out of the three of them, he was the only one conscious. He’d not had the luxury of being shot by a tranquilizer. He wished he had, sobriety or no sobriety (which, he admitted, had been a little wishy washy since Ben’s second death.) Instead, he’d been honored with a very hard kick to the head.
In his defense they’d caught him in a moment of surprise.
Okay, he’d been drinking.
Okay, it might have been his fault.
How was he supposed to know mid-battle wasn’t a prime opportunity to be downing a bottle of whisky? He’d done it plenty of times on missions when they’d been kids. Maybe it was his siblings’ fault! They hadn’t protected him. They were out of practice with the whole defend your poor vulnerable brother with useless powers and poor fighting abilities.
Beside him, Diego groaned. His eyes flickered open.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Klaus cooed in his ear.
Diego yelped, jumping away from where he’d been drooling on Klaus’ shirt. It’d been a nice shirt too. Gross, Diego! He was lucky he loved him so much and was such a good brother.
“What the-” Whatever colorful expletive Diego had chosen, Klaus would never know, because at that moment Diego seemed to notice he was tried up. In the back of a truck.
Well, at least they weren’t all crammed into a car trunk together. He didn’t think they’d all fit.
Diego wriggled against his ropes but stayed firmly tired up. “You think you can get free?” he hissed to Klaus. Why was he whispering? Were the bad guys going to hear them through the metal walls of the truck?
It was some sort of refrigeration unit, he thought. The walls were solid under his back and so white they hurt his eyes. Thankfully, it was big though. Even with Diego and Luther, there was plenty of room to stretch out. That, and the thin sliver of light through the doors were enough to keep Klaus calm. They were fine. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Five was tailing them at that very second. He hoped.
Klaus wriggled his wrists. They were already burning from the rope. “Sorry Bro, but these are a little tighter than I’m used to.”
To Diego’s credit, he didn’t react to the extra wink Klaus threw his way.
That was probably because he was too busy struggling against his own ropes. He pulled and yanked and wriggled, as if he were expecting to forcibly tear the binds from his body. Of course, that did not happen. But in his desperation, he did kick the sleeping Luther full in the face.
Luther bolted upright with a cry. “Hey! I’ll-”
Again, Klaus was left in suspense for the rest of the sentence. Luther’s eyes went wide as he took in the scene. Instead of ropes, he was wrapped in chains. There was an extra weight at his feet, Klaus supposed to slow him down, and another around his hands. These men had done their homework. Or, much more likely, Reginald had done his homework and sent his henchmen to do the dirty work.
The reaction Luther settled on was, “huh.”
Klaus smiled. “You have such a way with words.”
Diego was still grappling with his bindings. “If I can just… detach my shoulder…”
“And then what?” Luther asked, “Fight fourteen armed men single handedly with a dislocated shoulder?”
“I don’t see you doing anything.”
“I just woke up!”
“So did I.”
“I’m just saying there are better plans.”
“Oh? I don’t see you coming up with anything, Mr. Number One.”
Klaus let himself flop back against the wall. They’d managed to go a whole 0.05 seconds without fighting. A new record. “You know I think if ol’ Reggie got to know us, he’d like us better than the Sparrow whatevers. We’re so much fun.”
Luther and Diego stared at him, and them fell, defeated, against the wall in unison.
Didn’t they make a great team? If only Klaus had known a few ropes and chains would’ve shut them up years ago. He had all the necessary materials in his closet!
“I can’t believe Dad kidnaped us,” Diego said, slowly.
Klaus hummed. “It is a bit of an overkill. Would’ve been easier to kill us. One shot in the head, boom, done.” He giggled at the idea. The noise thrummed in his chest like a swarm of wasps. This was unexpected. Their father had never liked loose ends. It’d just been a matter of time before Reginald would’ve called the cleanup crew. It was just odd they were still alive.
His brothers exchanged looks with each other. Klaus knew that look. It was the he’s drunk or high so we’re just going to ignore whatever comes out of his mouth for the next few hours.
Well, jokes on them, he was always drunk or high, so they couldn’t ignore him forever.
“What about the others?” Luther asked. He was looking at Diego, not Klaus. “You think they’ll come?”
“Of course.” Klaus liked Diego’s confidence. He couldn’t exactly match it, but he liked it. “Of course” they’ll come. Our siblings would never leave their brother to be tortured by some crazy people with guns and masks. That’s just crazy!
He laughed again. Neither of them asked why.
It wasn’t long before the truck stopped. Despite himself, Klaus felt a small glimmer of hope. Maybe that was their siblings, ready to bust them out. But the doors slid open, revealing only men in dark uniforms and masks.
Luther and Diego put up a fight at least, struggling against their captors until one of them waved a tranquilizer dart in their faces. Then, Diego continued to struggle, so he actually did get a tranquilizer dart to the neck.
Klaus winced as his brother fell forward on his face. He was definitely feeling that when he woke up. After that, Luther allowed himself to be pulled from the truck, though he did so with a lot of grumbling and even a few decent insults.
Klaus didn’t struggle. He knew how to play a good victim. Plus, he really didn’t want to get hit in the head again. He was already feeling the headache pounding behind his eyes, though to be fair he wasn’t sure if that was the head trauma or the hangover. Maybe it was a lovely mixture of both.
He didn’t struggle. Until he saw where they were being led to. He’d excepted a building. A motel like last time, or a super-secret lair. Something with a little drama, a little taste. Maybe a light show or bad guy logos.
He hadn’t expected an underground bunker.
It was shaped a little like the mausoleum from his childhood. Not much, but enough to send a thrill of terror down his spine. A cold, concrete slope marred the earth, leading to two iron doors. Klaus could see little else of the building. The rest disappeared under the ground.
He was going to be sick.
By the time he realized where they were being led to, it was too late. He pulled and tugged, scrambling to get away, just away. The guards almost dropped him in surprise. But they recovered quickly enough, and in the end the doors opened, and he was escorted into the darkness.
His awareness drifted. It was dark. It was cold. Sometimes there were voices. He knew the guards were there. Every now and then someone patted his cheek. He didn’t know why.
Terror thrummed through every nerve like a pulse, hard and fast. His head spun. Sometimes he felt as if he were floating. Other times, he was only too aware of his body. Of the ropes binding his wrists. Of the hard back of the chair.
He wanted to scream. He might have screamed. His throat was raw and dry. There was blood on his lips. He’d bitten through his cheek.
When his consciousness was dragged too far under, when his grip on reality loosened, he saw them. White skulls wrapped with whiter skin peeling like paper. Grins filled with rotten, black teeth. Eyes rolling in the sockets. They reached for him. They screamed for him. It was all he could hear. Klaus Klaus Klaus Klaus-
“Klaus?” Luther’s voice was like a stone dropped in a pond. The ripples washed the specters away and Klaus was left, tied to a chair in a dark room.
He shivered, cold from sweat and exhaustion.
“Klaus, you good?” Diego’s voice. He must’ve finally woken up.
“You kidding?” Even to Klaus, his own voice sounded like a scratched-up vinyl record. “I’ve had nights kinkier than this.”
Somehow, he was convincing. Diego groaned in annoyance. “Can you at least pretend to pay attention?”
He could barely see his brothers in the dark. They’d been placed in the far back of the bunker, where there wasn’t even a sliver of light. He couldn’t see the guards, but he knew they were there… He could hear their footsteps and the low murmur of conversation.
Where were Vanya, Five and Allison?
Diego and Luther’s voices dimmed to a hum in the background as Klaus tried to keep his breathing even. His lungs were tight in his chest. Panic gripped his throat. It squeezed like a clawed hand. No, that was an actual hand. The ghost was so close, leaning in, his rotten teeth grazing Klaus’ skin. Why could they touch him? They shouldn’t be able to-
“Klaus?” Luther’s voice was sharp and angry even in a whisper. “What is going on with you? Can’t you listen for five minutes?”
The specter was gone, if it’d ever been there at all. He felt so lightheaded. The darkness made his eyes ache.
“Needa get out…” The words slurred from his lips.
“Yeah we’re trying to figure that out, Bro,” Diego hissed. “What the hell is your problem?”
Klaus tried to shake his head, tried to shake the panic away. It felt so thick, he was choking on it. He could taste it in his throat, on his tongue. Pure terror. “Hate… small… spaces…”
Diego said nothing. Luther snorted. “Yeah, don’t we all. If you’d just focus, then maybe we could figure a way out.”
Klaus could just barely latch on to the words. “Out…” he repeated. “Need… out.” He barely managed to pant the syllables between gasps of panicked air.
“Luther…” Diego’s voice was a low hum. “I think something’s wrong…”
Yes! Something’s wrong. We’re trapped. Dark. Ghosts. Let me out. Let me out!
“Please. Please. Out!” He couldn’t think. There was nothing but the darkness. The panic. The cold. The ghosts were going to come for him. He could hear them calling his name. Maybe his brothers were with them. Maybe they were already dead. This was Klaus’ punishment. This was hell. God didn’t want him, and this was it for eternity.
Then, a terrifyingly real voice. “Number Four. Number Two. Number One.”
There was movement, as if the darkness were melting into liquid, and then Reginald appeared, looming in front of them. His face betrayed no emotion, all hard steel and concrete.
Klaus’ breath hitched. He was eight years old and trapped in a mausoleum. He was 33 years old and trapped in a bunker. There were ghosts. There were guards. His father was disappointed in him. He was scared. He was so, so scared.
The guards, the ghouls… he could feel them. No, more than that. He could see them. Through the thick sheets of darkness… the outlines of bodies. No, not bodies. Souls. The lines between flesh and death blurred into one. It was all the same.
Some small voice in the back of his mind noticed that Reginald had a soul too. It was noted with a small touch of surprise. In any other situation, he would’ve made a joke about it.
Their father opened his mouth. Klaus did not let him speak.
“If you don’t let me out,” he rasped, “I will rip your soul from your body.” His own voice sounded distant and far away.
From behind him, Luther muttered a quiet, “Oh!” Then louder he added, “He’ll… err… he’ll do it!”
Laughter echoed from the dim. It took him a long time to realize the noise had come from Reginald. He had not been aware their father could laugh. You can’t. I have all the information I need. You, Number Four, are useless.” He didn’t say it as an insult. Just an observation. Somehow, that hurt more.
25 years later and here he was in the dark, with his father telling him how utterly useless he was.
He had to get out.
Klaus didn’t think, didn’t plan. He just reacted with pure instinct, as if he’d always known how.
He reached for their souls. All their souls.
LET ME OUT!
The burst of power ripped from him like a gunshot. He was breathless as an explosion of blue rippled through the bunker. It engulfed the darkness like a tidal wave, tearing through the guards. Their bodies dropped. The souls were left, screaming, until they too were burned away by pure power. For one, long endless moment, there was nothing but sheer energy electrifying every cell in Klaus’ body.
Then, it dissipated. The bunker was reclaimed by darkness. There was nothing left. No guards, no Reginald, no ghosts, no souls. He’d destroyed them all.