Number Eight - The Viper ┃ Five Hargreeves ┃1┃

IX - Plastic Fantastic

"Gimbel Brothers? Five, what the hell are we doing here? A shopping trip?" Number Eight asked as they stood outside the large department store in darkness. A faint red glow illuminated their faces, reflecting from the neon sign that stated the store's name.

"Just, trust me. It'll make sense. Now come on, I'm about to blink, so don't hurl." Number Five said, taking Number Eight's hand.

"Oh no." She whined, closing her eyes tight and wrapping her other hand around her stomach, bracing herself for the worst. With a flash of a bright blue light, the pair were now inside the department store. Number Five began to walk, whilst Number Eight was barely standing. Once again, she was dizzy and on the brink of vomiting. "Ugh, what was wrong with the door? I hate that." The store was in darkness, with only a dull blue glow coming from the under lights in the store.

"Eight, come on." Five said from the darkness. Number Eight followed his voice, still staggering slightly as she adjusted post-blink. She brushed her short hair out of her face, feeling strands of it sticking to her clammy face. She finally caught up with Number Five, who had managed to obtain a flashlight and was standing in front of the women's clothing department.

"Five, please. What is going on? Women's clothing?" Number Eight asked impatiently, an eerie feeling crawling across her skin. As tough as she was, she wasn't the biggest fan of the dark. Once again, Number Five began to walk away, leaving Number Eight to trail behind him like a lost dog. "Five!"

He was examining the mannequins with his torch, looking closely at each one. Number Eight stared at him as though he had grown an extra head. "How do I always seem to get myself in these situations. What did I do to deserve a twelve-year coma and creepy mannequins." She mumbled.

Number Five suddenly stopped in front of one particular mannequin, shining his torch upon it. Funnily enough, it was the only mannequin that Number Eight had seen with a face.

"Delores." He whispered, a small smile on his face.

Number Eight stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth dropping. "Excuse me?"

"It's good to see you. I've missed you. Obviously." He continued to speak softly to... the mannequin.

Number Eight was bewildered. "He tells a mannequin he missed it but not me. What the f-" She stuttered to herself, under her breath. He was clearly having a moment.

Number Five continued to speak to the mannequin. "Well, it's um, it's been a rough couple of days." He sighed deeply through his nose, looking away from the mannequin briefly.

"So, Delores is a mannequin? You-you married a doll?" Number Eight asked, confused more than anything else. She tilted her head as Number Five turned to look at her, his expression serious, though not harsh.

"No, I didn't marry Delores. That was... someone else. But that doesn't matter. This is who I spent the apocalypse with, on and off." Number Five explained to her. Number Eight was borderline speechless and bewildered, but could tell that Number Five was being serious. She didn't have the heart to question or mock him.