Chapter Text
"Tokyo" - RM.
If anyone were going to use three words to describe Reginald Hargreeves there would be a large pool of words that may come to mind depending on who you asked. Stubborn, Prideful, and Heartless would certainly be first in line for choices.
Like most other inventors and billionaires Reginald Hargreeves definitely hadn’t risen to fame for any charitable or selfless acts. He was a man of knowledge who created things only if they served him a greater purpose, or answered questions about the universe around him. In 1989 the adoption of seven supernatural babies was for that exact reason, the greater purpose of a superhero academy. One that would eventually save the world, with his training and guidance of course.
Everything had been going just as expected. The adopted children began showing developments of superhuman abilities around the ages of 9-12, some earlier or quicker than others. Reginalds training was rigorous and extensive but was proving to overall be fruitful.
That was until the seventh child began to pose issues, much to the billionaires annoyance. The lack of ability to control the power lying within them, temperamental tantrums, and disobedience. Completely unfazed by reprimand and after 4 dead nannies, Reginald had reached his limit of patience.
Deciding that Number Seven’s abilities were much too powerful for the child to control, unable to train her properly, and fearing what would become of such uncontainable power, Reginald decided Number Seven would have to be subdued.
Not even given the memory of her powers to hold on to, Number Seven was stripped of any evidence of abilities and outcast. Being much too late to get rid of the unfruitful child Reginald was left at a crossroads.
Reginald was no fan of children much less catering to them, but the academy had been built meticulously for seven heroes. Now instead he was left with an empty place and a now extra body who could not train but would still need to be kept under careful watch.
Reginald had always kept tabs on a handful of other children also born on Oct 1st, 1989. Deep in the subconscious of his mind he knew there was a reason for that.
Among those handful there were parents who either refused to sell out or he simply never got to before completing his set of seven. Being born in all areas and corners of the world the 43 children had been impossible to keep track of and reach all at once, he knew some had died off eventually or been raised as normal children.
In that group there was a child who resided in Bergamo Italy, who after a couple of phone calls and hours of research seemed to have just lost her family in a devastating house fire. The people Reginald had hired to locate and watch the families had found had no evidence of this child’s power or any surfacing abilities, which meant there was a 50/50 chance this child was a dud. Reginald was willing to take those odds.
“Wonderful development Pogo; it seems the parental guardians will no longer be an issue for the Italian child. Given Number Sevens…unfortunate circumstances this seems to have come at the right time. I’ve made arrangements to fly out tonight and move forward with the adoption.”
He found exactly what he was looking for.
—
They say a lot can change in a matter of seconds.
When Rowan had been younger she thought the idea of that statement had been silly, in a matter of seconds? What could possibly change in a few seconds? How could it be possible for things to drastically change course in mere seconds?
Rowan likes to laugh at herself looking back and sometimes wishes she was still filled with childish naivety. In reality standing here now Rowan can think of many times “mere seconds” had managed to either completely throw the trajectory of her life to all hell, or change everything for the better.
One second she had been embracing her mothers legs while she swayed in place washing dishes in their kitchen. Nose nuzzled into the flowing fabric of the skirt adorning her mothers legs the scent of lilies and fresh bread comforting the young girl. Windows cracked open there was a light breeze flowing in rustling the sheer curtains. Soft hums filling the space, a soft record on loop somewhere in another room.
The next she had been splayed on the ground in front of their once beautiful home, cobblestone digging into her knees watching her home and everything she had once known, and loved go up in flames. Piercing heat hitting her young face tear streams reflecting the orange blaze, she tried to grasp the reality of what she was witnessing.
One second she had been sitting on an old bed all alone in an unfamiliar room, inside the large mansion. The small suitcase she’d brought housing her only remaining belongings still sitting untouched as she tried to grasp her new reality. Her unkind newfound guardian who had just finalized the process of adopting her, sitting somewhere downstairs awaiting her presence in his office.
The next she was sitting on her brand new mattress surrounded by seven teenage bodies all huddled in the very same room, pushing and kicking each other to form a circle on her bed. Soft noises of laughter fill the room knees brushing against one another's. Her chest getting a little warmer, and smile a little brighter as she catches a pair of prehnite eyes who soften the slightest bit as they meet hers.
One second she had been so undeniably in love, so enamored, with the boy who held time and space in the palm of his hands. So intertwined and branded to one another, physically and emotionally. Spending endless nights talking to the moon and stars about their plans, plans of a life together outside the walls of the academy. Finally free from the suffocation that enveloped the academy and the life inside it.
The next she was standing alone on the sidewalk just feet away from the academy, the weight of the world crashing on her shoulders. The icy cold dread of reality that was happening in front of her eyes wrapping around her legs threatening to pull her down. Another person she loved slipping through her fingers, six years fading in a blinding flash of cerulean blue.
One second she had begun to notice and feel the habits and affection her mother had instilled in her fading away. Stuck in a house surrounded by strangers who wouldn’t know warmth or affection if it hit them with a stick, with no one to share intimacy with as she once had so comfortably with her family and friends, Rowan could feel the normalcy of physical intimacy and general love becoming foreign and far out of reach as she sat in the Hargreeves library. Surrounded by seven figures in their own chairs but feeling the most alone she ever had before.
The next she had never felt so fulfilled, so content, as she poured her love and affection into seven children who had never experienced it a day in their lives.
Resting her head on the broad shoulders of Number One who always carried the most, while he ruffled the top of her head. His chest feeling a little lighter than it had just moments before.
Rubbing the back of the weeping Number Two, who cries I frustration when the words won’t come out quite right. Relieving himself of the hurt as he sobs into her chest, clutching at her like she was a safety raft in a large vast body of water.
Holding hands lying side by side with the Number Three who was a dreamer, while she rambled on about her dreams of fame and success while Rowan watched her with bright eyes.
Being the person Number Four had always dreamed of, someone to finally hug him back. It was no secret that he craved the most reassurance and affection, Rowan was a dream come true. His head in her lap as she caressed his face while he rambled on, eyes a little too red.
Number Five. Oh, Number Five.
Warm hands and soft lingering touches buried under the duvet on the bed, yellow light coming from a flashlight lost somewhere in the blankets. Pair of noses rubbing together from their faces pressed close, staring at one another with an emotion much too heavy for their age gleaming in their eyes.
Always having a sensitive nose Rowan loved to hug Number Six, always smelling like vanilla and lingering smoke from hanging out with Klaus. It wasn't abnormal to find him in his bed taking a nap with Rowan pressed into his side, her nose in his hair leg thrown over him.
Number Seven who had always dreamed of being treated like they mattered, like they were part of something special had never felt such warmth like when Rowan began greeting them at the breakfast table with a gentle kiss to the temple. Her bright smile beaming as she continued on to take her seat next to the awaiting boy who watched her with something Vanya could only acknowledge as adoration.
One second she was in her home which she had worked for years to build and make a safe after finally leaving the academy. It was the early hours of the morning when the first rays of sun began hitting the blinds. Rowan was sat finishing up sketches for her latest project she hadn’t gotten to finish the previous night, like many other nights before part of her routine .
The next, she was receiving a call from a coarse voice on the other end of the line.
“Did you hear? Our Dad’s dead.”
Sigh.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
— March 24th, 2019
Diego had always been her source for any news around town. With his line of “work” as he called it, he was always calling Rowan at all hours of the day to fill her in on what was going on around town. She knew it made him happy so she always listened.
A rough chuckle sounds from the other side of the line, “Yeah, Tell me about it.” Diego says.
“He really only let things be normal and peaceful for a couple of years?” She laughs.
“The old man always knew how to ruin things, I’m gonna swing by the house to check things out. I’ll see you there later, you’re coming right?” He questions.
She immediately feels her posture straighten and an uneasy feeling settle over her, “Yeah, have fun with that…Um, I’m not sure.”
He sighs on the other end of the line, “I hated him as much as the next person Roe, but don’t you think you should be there? See everyone and all that, you know? You’ve been really busy lately, They must miss you.” When had Diego ever given a shit about the rest of them? The accurate translation? I miss you. Rowans laughs, seeing right through him.
“I see you all, and speak to you all way too much for that to be possible Diego.” She chuckles “I’ll think about it alright? Please don’t get arrested. Again.”
He groans, “Are you ever gonna let tha—“
“Love you too, Bye!” Rowan puts the phone back on the receiver before he can finish his thought.
Rowan in fact would not be letting it go because she had bailed him out three too many times, at all hours of the night/morning after many half laughing-half annoyed calls with Eudora. Rowan loved Eudora, she still couldn’t understand how Diego had managed such a catch. Then again, Diego always said the same to Number Five when it came to her.
With a deep sigh Rowan stands from her chair and runs her hands over the top of her hair. This was truly the last thing she needed to be worrying about. She hated the man and the thought of that house gave her chills. After everything that had transpired over the course of the past years Rowan wanted to stay as far away from the house as possible, it was too unpleasant.
Filled with far too many memories Rowan would never have the time to fully unpack. Ones she didn’t want to fully unpack. Her steps take her out of her office, through the hallway and into the bathroom to a mirror. There it is. Why was she even debating this?
Staring back at her is permanent reminder of the way that house altered her life forever. The way the 42 Bedrooms and 19 Bathrooms had changed so much and had settled so many issues deep into her skin.
If she needed anymore reason to stay away this was it. Her heart felt like lead staring at her face, it upsets Rowan that it still bothers her after all this time. With a last glance in the mirror, her mind is made up.
“No way in hell I’m going back there for him.”
— February 13th, 2002
When Reginald discovered what abilities resided in the young girl, it had spelled a lifetime of pain for Rowan from the very start.
Shortly after her arrival Reginald had sent Grace to inform the girl he awaited her presence in his office. Reginald had briefly explained in the limousine ride what the academy was and it’s purpose. When he first mentioned powers and the possibility of her having them the girl had a look of discomfort, asking Reginald what made him so sure she had powers at all.
Confirming to Reginald he had indeed placed the correct bet and was about to cash out.
He easily responded that she “wasn’t special”. That there had been many other children all spontaneously born on Oct 1st and he had assembled a team of them to train and refine their powers. Seven of them to be exact.
Rowan had heard the story of her birth but it had been overshadowed by her mothers instinct to love and raise her without question. The notion of loving someone who had been dropped on your head out of nowhere with no ties to you except DNA, had baffled Rowan even back then.
But her mother had done it without doubt and loved her wholly just as she had done with her older brother. When Rowans powers had shown themselves the woman had embraced her even harder and had suggested it could be explained by the phenomenon of her birth.
Rowan’s mother didn’t ever disclose the strange monocled man who appeared offering money in exchange for the child, but as Rowan grew older and older the more the man’s intentions became clear to the woman.
Sitting across from him now it seems Rowans mother had protected the girl as long as she could before fates cruel hands had landed her daughter in the last place her late mother would have ever wanted her to be.
The interrogation was straight to the point and Rowan sat there weighing her options, if she refused to say and cooperate she had no doubts the cold man sitting across from her would have other methods of extracting the truth. If she decided to cooperate then maybe she could make the next few years a bit smoother for herself.
She was an orphan who had no family or place to go now, that was the bottom line. Denial could only go so far, she was stuck here whether she liked it or not. Deciding to hold onto what little control she had left in the situation, Rowan reluctantly decides to answer his questions.
Better it be her version and omitting the details she didn’t want to share, than some forced truth where she might not be able to stop herself from revealing everything. Some deep part of her was also extremely curious, seven other children with powers and apparently being trained to properly control and use them.
She had always felt an insatiable appetite for knowledge she loved knowing about things and how they worked and why, the same questions applied to her abilities. Rowan had always wished she could have answers, to see how far, how strong, she could be and it seemed in some weird way the universe was presenting her with the opportunity to do so.
“I can manipulate blood.”
The surface of her abilities had barely been scratched when Rowan first entered the academy. She had described to Reginald the extent of what she had been able to do throughout her life so far and the limitations she had experienced in testing them.
As soon as Reginald heard the words from her mouth he knew there was more to be done, so much more.
Blood was the supply for living beings, to be able to control the substance that sustained life opened unimaginable possibilities of power, so many limits to push and surpass.
Reginald had always said where one door closed there was always another ready to break open. It became clear to him Number Sevens failures would be minuscule compared to the sheer power the person before him could wield if she applied herself.
The mere experiments Rowan described trying back home would be nothing compared to what Reginald already believed he could try.
Rowan had described an instance where she had been fighting with her brother in the yard, tussling in the grass when the boy had pinched his nail into her ear. Squealing in pain, Rowan turned her head and had bitten down on his hand breaking his skin until he relented and released her ear.
A trickle of blood had made its way onto her teeth. When the two released one another and sat apart huffing and groaning Rowan had licked her teeth and in mere seconds, her brother began screaming.
Rowans mother and her older brother looking at her as if she had just grown another head. In a way she had, when Rowan finally made her way to a mirror she was face to face with an exact replica of her brother, voice and all.
Cloning, would be an excellent tool in rescue missions or in the infiltration of evil organizations. Being able to mimic the voice of another was an added bonus, Reginald hurriedly writes in his journal dissecting every word leaving the girls mouth from across his desk.
Rowan had no idea what he was writing so damn much of, but she knew it couldn’t be good. When asked how long she had been able to sustain the form, Rowan had described only a few minutes because she had begun to feel violently sick in a way she could only describe as “something fighting each other inside me” in the end, in order to return to her original form she had sliced the skin of her index finger and had ingested it out of fear.
This was the only thing that made the sickness go away, he dully took note of that.
Rowan had mentioned trying to see if animal blood would have the same effect, testing her own powers in pursue of answers to her own curiosity was something Reginald could positively acknowledge.
Her experiment had resulted yielding no results, leading to the conclusion that her powers only worked on other humans. The girl had been satisfied at believing her powers stopped there.
Biologically controlling blood inside of her was a vast sea to explore in itself, Reginald notes. Other forms of blood should be experimented as well such as, controlling blood in its physical form outside of the body and testing and studying the chemical properties of her own blood was also high on the priority list of burning questions.
It would all have the wait, he would explore the vastness of biological control before he moved on to less pressing matters, and he would explore every last corner of it.