Description

xN A T H A N x H A R G R E E V E S
xxxxxxxxxx • x Number 4 x • x The Flame x •

P L A Y L I S T
xx A Side x Mr Impossible - Phantogram xx Run Run Blood - Phantogram xx Falling - Rezz (ft. Underoath) xx Destruction - Joywave xx Mount Everest - Labrinth
x B Side x Upperdrugs - Highly Suspect xx Figure It Out - Royal Blood xx Amsterdam - Nothing But Thieves xx Lights Out - Royal Blood xx Animal - Badflower

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n i c k n a m e s x // x Nate , The Flame

a c t u a l x a g e x // xTwenty-Six

g e n d e r x // xMale

s e x u a l i t y x // xBisexual

o r i g i n x // xBrooklyn, New York, United States, 1993

a b i l i t y x // xCombustion Inducement

D E C O R U S

h e i g h t x // x5' 10

w e i g h t x // x149lbs

h a i r x // xNaturally dirty blonde

e y e s x // xMuted gray blue

o d d i t i e s x // xCovered in a variety of tattoos and scars.

a p p e a r a n c e x // xNathan carries himself like a man that's got a pack of wolves running after him. A deep paranoia set into the folds of worry lines etched around his eyes. Always in a forcefully relaxed slouch, posture bad but somehow worse when he's sat down. It's rare to find true comfort in his expression. Usually, he's closed off, rarely smiling. Very much a ghost in his own skin at times. Covered in scars that depict an unnecessary rough quality of living.

He isn't the type to worry about impressing others, he marches to the beat of his own drum where style is concerned and detests trends. Usually found draped in dark shades. His color wheel is stuck on black, and very rarely strays away from it. Hoodies, leather jackets, tight black pants, and band tees are just a few of the types of clothing that he's often seen in. Rarely is he without some form of layered on outerwear. He doesn't bother much with fancy shit but he does wear a pair of steel rings on each hand and has a pretty simple nose ring.

Often times he likes to dye his hair to a lighter platinum shade but doesn't keep up with it on a regular basis. Often letting his hair fade back into the dirt blonde shade that it naturally is. His hairstyles tend to skew towards messy half-shaven and careless. His tattoos don't have direct meanings, and truthfully, many of them came from drunken benders or friends testing out their home-tattooing skills.

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I N G E N I U M
xxxxxxxxxxxx• x a b i l i t y x • x \ ə - ˈ b i - l ə - t ē \ x •

Heat Generation x // x This facet of his ability requires the least amount of skill, or thought. Essentially, this is the ability to raise his internal temperatures to a higher level and produce an external heat. Like a radiator. When taken a step further he produces flames; this however ties into Self Combustion.

Self Combustion x // x Requiring more control, lest he cause more destruction than intended, this part of his ability is generally thought of as the main side. In which he is able to produce a flame from seemingly nowhere. This is done by increasing the kinetics of atoms and molecules causing them to ignite. These flames are localized to his hands, and generally cannot be produced anywhere else in the body (though he has not pushed his abilities far enough to test this out.)

Flame Throwing x // x Once a flame has been produced he is able to increase the size of it exponentially. This allows him to generally cast the flame outwards from his palms as if he were 'throwing' the flames. There is a cap on the distance he can generally extend the flames but usually just being able to light something on fire is enough of an asset to not see that as a hindrance.

F O R T I T U D O
xxxxxxxxxxxx• x s t r e n g t h x • x \ ˈ s t r e ŋ ( k ) t h \ x •

Hand-To-Hand Combat x // x Just like the rest of his siblings he was taught at an early age the art of Hand to Hand combat. He has continued to hone these abilities over the years, using it as his first line of defense. Due to his ability to generate flames in his hands, he tends to pack a much more painful punch than most.

Self Control x // x Despite his proclivities for certain vices, he does have a remarkable amount of Self Control. Nathan always seems to know what he's doing and how it will affect his abilities as they are emotion based. He has the ultimate say in what happens within himself, and does not put himself into shady situations on a whim. Truthfully, his self control comes more from fear of himself, than from a real want to be in control.

Prudencex // x Nathan tends to think carefully and act cautiously before acting. He does not purposefully take unnecessary risks, though that isn't to say he doesn't face risks regardless. Rather, he thinks about the long term consequences of his actions and acts according to the values and morals he has set for himself.

I N F I R M I T A T E
xxxxxxxxxxxx• x w e a k n e s s x • x \ ˈ w ē k - n ə s \ x •

Flirtatiousness x // x Nathan tends to see a pretty face and lose himself to lust. He has a strange need to sleep around with about anyone that will have him and has no discretion as to who it is. He could be falling into bed with an enemy for all he cares.

Liarx // x While he doesn't always lie to harm others, he has done so in the past and likely will in the future as well. His lies are usually done in spite of himself or others. Or at times to protect from a far worse outcome had he told the truth. He doesn't usually do it arbitrarily.

Jealousyx // x Sometimes he can't help himself from the undeniable envy that comes from seeing other people living so much better lives. This is perhaps one of his more visible weaknesses, as he can't quite quell that green-eyed monster inside of him.

M E T U M
xxxxxxxxxxxx• x f e a r x • x \ ˈ f i r \ x •

Losing Control Of His Flamex // x This is his biggest and most obvious fear. Born from it having happened in the past. He knows that he is destructive, and can cause a lot of harm if given the chance. He doesn't like this about himself, has never liked it, and the more he was pushed to learn his abilities the more he felt as if he was slipping with them. Above all else, I guess you can say he fears himself.

Being Worthless x // x His particular brand of confidence has always come at the price of fearing being worthless. He doesn't want to be seen just for his ability and what he can do with them. He wants to be seen as himself, and to be someone worth something on his own terms.

It's clear to anyone who knows him that Nathan hides a lot of himself behind a sociable exterior. He has to after all, with his profession putting him so far into the limelight. Being the frontman in a semi-famous band has given him a lot of time to hone his charisma. It's taken a lot of energy from him to shake off the childhood trauma of crime-fighting and expectations. It's obvious he hasn't completely shaken off the crime-fighting part, as he has a hero-complex a mile wide and a tendency to step into shit that really doesn't concern him at all. This has led him to trouble a time or two, but he still hasn't seemed to learn his lesson.

Nathan has spent many years getting his emotions to a stable place. He prides himself on keeping a clear head and being able to see the big picture ahead of time. He doesn't go into things half-assed, and he refuses to be blindsided by anything if given the chance. He isn't exactly a coward but he does have a lot of fear, mostly of himself and the flames he produces. His ability isn't an easy one to control, fire always has a mind of its own. As such he can be rather paranoid when it comes to sketchy situations. Even the slightest release of his control could lead to miserable consequences.

For the most part Nathan tries to keep a positive, if not somewhat bittersweet outlook on things. He's the first to offer a hug when someone needs it, and always seems to trail after other people cleaning up their messes; perhaps another side of that hero complex of his. Though he likes to believe that others with offer him the same if he truly needed it. His expressions and gestures might seem closed off but he is as far from cold as possible. When he is truly upset it is very easy to tell, he can only stifle himself so much. And truly, he has an air of predictability about him that many find refreshing.

Of course his lifestyle has led to a few vices, it was inescapable really when surrounded by bandmates that didn't quite know when to quit. Alcohol is a big thing with him, though it can often backfire. He either winds up muting his powers or losing control. Therefore he doesn't let himself slip up too very often. Luckily, most other drugs out there simply cut off his connection to the fire altogether. Though he doesn't indulge himself too often, having been down that path before and hating the feelings that came with it.

h e x c o d e x // x #a35151 x // x f a c e c l a i m x // x Johnny Stevens x // x c r e a t o r x // x Venuskyy x // x c s x // x mjolnir

So begins...

Nathan Hargreeves's Story

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The City of West Anne

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#2020-10-03 00:36:08, as written by ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

November 4, 2019

To my dear students:

If you are receiving this letter that means I’ve passed away due to natural causes. As I’m sure you are aware, I’ve made Pogo the executor of my will as well as the one to arrange the funerary services no later than a week after my death. It is my last wish that you attend my burial.

Attached below is the passcode to the drawbridge.

#19890110

Sir Reginald Hargreeves

You piece of shit.

Even in his posthumous letters, he managed to be an emotionless ghoul. Sven crumpled the letter and threw it across the room...shortly before retracting it into their hands.

They already saw the obituary in the newspaper, the black and white photographs on the Internet accompanied by shallow anecdotes, and the thinkpiece articles regarding his life as an inventor, Olympic athlete, and father to nine superheroes. Everything reeked of opportunism. It was a race to garner clicks with none of the depth. Nobody explored the experience of being an Anchor Academy student nor the ethical violations that came with weaponizing your own children.

Save for Savannah and Lucien (who they didn’t care about), the rest of their siblings left an online footprint. Everyone moved on from the academy in some form. Lucky splashed her lavish life all over Instagram. Nathan joined a rock band. Uma performed fortune readings and made sketches. Similar to Nathan, Ronan joined their own band as well. Vya...Honestly Sven didn't know what he did other than drink and hang out with Lucky's exes. After their father's death however, only Ronan and Vya claimed Reginald as their own. Everyone else either didn’t bother to post about it or did so in subtle ways.

Not that Sven would ever admit to cyberstalking their siblings.

They moved beyond the need for siblings and Anchor Academy clout. They were at peace with their nomadic lifestyle and Shisa kept them company on the days that they missed having a family. Friends were easy to come by and despite Sven's emotional emptiness, warm bodies were even easier. People sought connections regardless of what they were based on even if it meant being ghosted two weeks later.

All that mattered was that they were living their best life.

That begged the question of why they couldn't destroy that damn letter. It had been six days since it ended up in their P.O. box and they tried every method of destruction possible yet they couldn't stop themselves from restoring it each time. Whether it was ripped, burned, marked "return to sender", or ditched at someone's apartment, they reversed their decision. His words rewound in Sven’s head, mocking each failure to keep the letter shredded.

Maybe it’s worth going...for confirmation.

Reginald Hargreeves was an asshole, but he was rarely dishonest. He didn’t need to fake his death to gather everyone.

That was perhaps the reason why Sven booked a ticket to West Anne three hours after arriving home.

---

The trip itself did not present any trouble and strangely, that train ride was the best nap Sven had in a long time. Granted, it wasn’t saying much given their inconsistent sleep schedule but any rest was good rest. Even the long walk (Sven hated driving) didn’t faze them. Despite being gone for nearly a decade nearly everything remained the same. From the sea breeze to the chimes of ice cream carts, West Anne beckoned for its tourists to stay an extra day or week to soak the sunlight if not retire there altogether.

Anchor Academy was the only outlier. Its drawbridge proved imposing as ever and the creaking showed how long it had been since somebody crossed. Had everyone left that long ago? Or did their father decide to bunker down? Not that either options were mutually exclusive.

"You've your brother's grave and disobeyed my orders. Leave!"

Why am I here?

Sven bit their bottom lip. It wasn't too late to renege their decision. They could rewind their trek and draw the bridge back up. They could toss the letter into the ocean and go home. They could do just about anything to avoid traumatizing themself again.

Oh, but they didn't. They continued across the bridge, taking a deep breath as they set foot on the flagstone pavement.

"Good to see you again Mi-Sven. It has been far too long." Pogo emerged from Anchor Academy's center door in his red suit.

"Yeah..." Sven pressed their lips together, holding back a twinge of annoyance.

The person that stood before them was no longer the spry simian that taught them world history or strategy during Reginal's busy days. Pogo's hairs grayed at the ends and the bags under his eyes formed full wrinkles. His face drooped and even his back seemed the slightest bit hunched. Despite all that happened they didn't hate him. They just wished he had done more for them.

"Has anyone else come yet?" Sven asked, jostling their backpack back onto their shoulder.

"Ah, you are the first to arrive actually-" Pogo paused for a second-"but I believe that your mother has prepped tea and cookies if you wish to wait in the living room."

"You didn't need to do any of this you know."

Pogo shook his head.

"I'm fulfilling his last request just like you."

He gestured for Sven to head inside, glancing at the clouds looming in the distance.

Setting

The City of West Anne

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#2020-11-17 00:45:18, as written by Venuskyy

NATHAN HARGREEVES
No. 4xx |xx#a35151

If you are receiving this letter that means I’ve passed away due to natural causes. As I’m sure you are aware, I’ve made Pogo the executor of my will as well as the one to arrange the funerary services no later than a week after my death. It is my last wish that you attend my burial...

Nathan didn't have time for this shit.

So their father had bit it? Good, it was the least the old man deserved for the shit he put them all through. Nathan would absolutely be lying if he said he didn't care though. It certainly affected him, whether he could admit it or not. There was no emotional gratification, no joy in the fact, it was more of a quiet relief. As if the shadow that hung over his head could finally be laid to rest. The childish fear of the monster under his bed was gone.

The relief was short lived though, because even in death Reginald Hargreeves couldn't stop himself from draping his expectations over his children. As far as honoring Reginalds last wishes went, Nathan couldn't even begin to fathom why it would matter. It seemed that years of solitude hadn't taught the old man anything. All of them had left eventually, a river of emotionally repressed young adults trickling out one by one until even the most loyal of them had gone. Didn't he get it? None of them owed Reginald shit, let alone a last wish.

"Fuck," he muttered, tugging at the ends of his hair as he thought it over. He didn't want to go, but that wasn't quite the truth either. Honoring Reginald was the furthest thought from his mind. But he wanted to be there, if only in some small way, to see the others. Sure, he ran into each of them every once in a while in various ways. Concerts, parties, the occasional drop-in visit. Pretending that this horrifying childhood didn't hang over every minefield of a conversation. It was easy to pretend when they were hundreds of miles away from anything remotely related to it. But this would put him right back in the thick of it. His origin story.

But why the fuck not, right? Now was as good a time as any. The band had taken a short break, nothing permanent, but the constant touring had been a mental strain and they had needed some time apart from each other before someone snapped and a real fight broke out. They were still working on the new album, just from afar while each of them sorted themselves out. Nathan could still do that, and maybe the change of scenery and good ol' traumatic memories would get the wells of creativity flowing again anyways. It was decided then...He would go.

He crumpled the letter into a tiny ball and let it fall to the floor, where it proceeded to roll under the couch to never be seen again. His first order of business was to trudge his way from his apartment to the liquor store on the corner, where he proceeded to buy the cheapest bottle he could get his hands on. Knowing himself too well, he texted the only responsible one out of the foursome that was Embers Ghost. Liz wasn't thrilled with his plans to return home, though he hadn't shared the details of his childhood with his bandmates they knew some things. Shitty father, shitty memories, lots of bad experiences. It was hard to avoid that kind of thing when half of their music centered around it.

"You really don't do anything half-way," Liz stood over him, thankfully blocking out the harsh light. He wasn't sure where he was at first, his head was buzzing and everything felt just slightly skewed. Like he was looking through a foggy window. "Nate, get up." She kicked him, and though it wasn't very hard he still groaned at the movement. He wanted to tell her to 'fuck off Liz' but he was sure she would probably punch him, hungover or not. Anyways, opening his mouth to say anything was a bad idea. He instantly felt the telltale sensation of 'oh god gonna throw up right now.'

Liz watched him struggle to stand without a word, arms crossed, clearly judging but he knew she was putting up a front. He'd picked her up off a dozen floors before too. It was just the games the band played.

"You've got ten minutes!" She called after him, as he stumbled his way to the bathroom and uphended the contents of last nights bender. The vodka he drank burned more coming out than it did going in. He felt like shit, looked like shit too, he didn't have time for a shower though so he did his best to wipe himself down with a wet towel and prayed that the cologne he sprayed on himself would cover up some of the booze smell. He had thankfully already packed before getting wasted, so he just had to grab his bags and that was that.

"Here," She handed him a stick of gum, "You smell like a bar."

He was glad he had asked Liz to drive him to the airport last night, he wasn't sure he could have managed it with the way his head spun. She didn't ask any of the questions that must of been on her mind. He was glad for that. He wasn't sure he had it in him to talk about it. Instead they just chatted mindlessly about other things, skirting around any topics that would have dampened the mood. Now that he was upright he felt a bit better. Able to actually think.

Though the anticipation of the plane ride did nothing to help the building anxiety. Now that he had a moment he wondered if the others were even going to show up. Nathan himself had contemplated ignoring the letter altogether. Pretending it hadn't even existed but that wouldn't have done him any good in the long run. No. Better to see for himself anyways. He just hoped he wasn't the only one going. None of this would be worth it if he were.

They arrived far too fast for his liking.

As he stood outside her car, preparing himself for the hell that would be TSA, she rolled down the passenger window.

"Hey," She said, "Text me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will." He promised, as sincerely as he could. Though he wasn't sure if he would follow through on that or not. He didn't like having to involve anyone in his mental bullshit more than he liked to go through it himself. But she nodded anyways, flashing him one last smile before rolling up the window and driving off. He waited until he could no longer see her car before adjusting his bag and turning towards the airport lobby.

Nathan slept for most of the plane ride, he had no choice in the matter really. He was exhausted, mentally, not that he'd done anything physically taxing. Other than being incredibly hungover - which he was sure the hostesses were absolutely aware of. Thankfully there was very little contact the whole time. He was able to sleep, and by the time he woke many, many hours later they were just cresting the last stretch of the flight.

From there it was just a matter of taking a cab. He hadn't exactly planned very far ahead. He had gotten the flight last minute, but he hadn't bothered to figure out where he would be staying. He didn't know if he could stomach the thought of staying in the academy. He was sure his bedroom was still there, a dormant ghost, likely still being religiously cleaned by Mom even after he was no longer there to make it into an absolute mess. The thought made him ache, he had missed her, and he was ready to see her again.

Once there though it finally, finally sunk in. There it was, right in front of him, the Academy in all its glory. Standing like a memorial to everything it once was. He shuddered, and told himself that he was just cold. But it was more than that. He was unsettled. Half expecting that once he stepped through those doors he'd suddenly be young again, and the time he had spent away would have all been a dream.

"Get it together man," He mumbled to himself under his breath.

His composure nearly broke at the sight of Pogo. He hadn't seemed to have changed one bit, and that left Nathan feeling further disconnected from his expectations. "Master Nathan, it's good to see you." the primate greeted him with a warmth that Nathan wasn't sure he deserved. He couldn't imagine what it must of been like, trapped here all alone for all these years with only Reginald and Mom. "Pogo..." Nathan began, coughing to cover up the slight break in his voice. "Hey, uh, good to see you too..." He itched to reach out and hug Pogo, but squished that urge down as hard as he could.

"Has anyone else...is anyone else coming?" He asked, unsure if he truly wanted the answer. "A few of the others have already arrived yes, if you'd like I could show - " Nathan shook his head quickly, "No, no, I'm good. I just, I'm going to have a look around real quick, I'll see them all...later anyways. Thank you though..." With that said he moved past Pogo, determined to avoid the awkwardness that rushed over him.

Nothing at all had changed, Nathan wasn't sure whether that was a blessing or a curse.

Setting

The City of West Anne

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#2021-01-01 10:28:39, as written by ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

The interior of the mansion was just as they remembered it, pretentiousness and all. The mahogany foyer hosted a gold chandelier, marble floor, and a wooden staircase in the center of the room. Along the walls were portraits of varying sizes, with the biggest being one of Sir Reginald Hargreeves staring down at whoever entered Anchor Academy’s doors.

I’m surprised that he didn’t take mines’ down, Sven thought idly as they turned their head towards the left wing of the estate.

The living room dredged up more memories ranging from seething hatred to a phantom pain. The embers of the fireplace had long died and the furniture dusty from lack of use. Nonetheless, Sven sat on one of the couches, ready to drown in baked goods, tea, and their phone. Grabbing one of the cookies, they bit down with a strange crunch.

They were stale and the tea, they realized was equally cold.

How long ago did Mom make these? They pursed their lips, motioning for its reversal.

It took about fifteen minutes, but Sven managed to get the cookies in their original, gooey form and the tea piping hot. They weren't entirely sure how long the food had been left out, but it was at least a few days. Had she been told the wrong date? It wasn't like Mom to make a mistake like that.

Before they could dig deeper however, a familiar voice interrupted their thoughts.

“Ronan…”

It had been ten years since Sven last saw their sibling so it was only natural that their lips would curl inward, their throat would be barely holding back a crack, and every terrible memory would come flooding back at once. There was a time when they blamed Ronan for how their father treated them. They asked themselves why Five continued to listen to father when Sven was the one picking after them. They were always the one healing, repairing the damage that everyone else did, they were Anchor Academy’s “get out of jail free” card. They...needed to calm down. Regurgitating decade-old trauma was not the point of their visit.

Sven pressed the teacup to their lips, meeting their sibling’s gaze as they continued speaking. They remained silent through Ronan’s fragmented speech, unsure whether the point was penitence or validation.

If you were sorry why didn’t you try to find me? The words stopped short of their lips, swallowed along with a long sip of tea.

Apologies weren’t easy. Often they were a means of deferring guilt from the perpetrator to the victim. Sven didn’t doubt Ronan’s sincerity. They couldn’t lie to save their life or rather, Sven didn’t even know if they knew how to lie. Years of social isolation and emotional detachment meant that before Ronan left they’d never interacted with anyone other than the Hargreeves’ family. It wasn't to say that Sven doubted Five's ability to pick up the art of deception so much as that it didn't fit them. They were far too genuine a person.

”It’s fine,” They rasped, setting their cup on the table. ”I’m tired of being angry.”

It wasn't a complete lie. Sven didn't want to resent their siblings anymore. Hatchets were meant to be buried and anger drained them far more than their powers could. That was the whole reason they read those stupid self-help books in the first place. They were being manipulated. It's not their fault. For a brief second there was a flash of hesitation in the dirty blonde's eyes before they steeled themselves once more.

”So I heard you've been traveling," They started, grabbing a cookie from the plate next to the tea set.

---

Outside of the mansion, Pogo stood unperturbed by the swelling clouds. The funeral mattered more to him than a few drops of rain. Only Vya, Sven, Nathan, and Ronan came through the front while the others were missing. He was sure that Uma and Camil-Lucky received their letters, but Lucien and Savannah were much harder to find. Government records showed that Lucien joined the military; however, his address never stayed for too long. Savannah, by nature of her gift, could take on the identity of whoever she wished, making her location an approximation at best.

I don’t suppose any of you could show one last time.

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