The Kennedy Fiasco (oneshot TUA/MCU crossover)
It is the year 1963. And while Diego Hargreeves and Erik Lehnsherr do their best to save the president, the two deadliest assassins, Five Hargreeves and the Wintersoldier, are tasked with killing JFK. Chaos ensues, along with a lot of feels.
An Umbrella Academy/Marvel crossover.
(inspired by a tumblr post of mine: https://www.tumblr.com/donnalawliet/757653913223774208/cherikdogfood-i-love-that-thought-it-makes-me?source=share )
Thank you @cherikdogfood for giving me ideas and supporting me. And thank you @i-am-tardis-locked for listening to my rants.
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When he agreed to Fiveâs last minute plan to time travel, Diego had expected that they would go back a year at most and solve it all together. None of these things ended up being true. He landed in a dark alleyway alone, in a place and time completely foreign to him. His siblings were nowhere to be found.
Before he could fully process the situation, cries for help reached his ear and something inside of him activitated. After years of âworkingâ as a vigilante, his need to protect had only gotten stronger. So without looking back or rethinking it, he started running after the man clearly trying to steal a womanâs handbag. Diegoâs hand automatically reached for one of his knives and as soon as he threw it, the knife obeyed his command to go where he wanted it to go. He barely even thought about it. Pinning the man to a pole was easy and retrieving the handbag to hand it back didnât even register as a conscious action. A job well done.
The sound of a TV distracted him though. It was quite boxy, not one of those flatscreen televisions he was used to in 2019. And it broadcasted a face and voice that he only remembered from his history lessons back at the academy. The 35th president of the United States, John F. Kennedy.
As Diego realised what situation he truly found himself in, a thought materialised in his mind. He had been given an opportunity to change history. To make things right. To save a person far more important than a woman with a stolen handbag.
He had the opportunity to save the president.
Five was exhausted and that was putting it mildly.He had failed to save the world in 2019 and now, in 1963, he had to do it all over again. And as the cherry on top, he had to see a face again that he had so desperately hoped to never encounter in his entire life once more.
âUnder my leadership, the Commission would sound more likeâŚjazzâ, the Handler grinned and mimicked the soft rhythm of jazz music. Five was slowly starting to get impatient. He was only staying around in the hope of one clue, one detail that would help him. So far, nothing. Her words didnât make sense.
âWhat about the board of directors?â, he ased, allowing himself to sound cocky.
It was more of a rhetorical question than anything else. Something to get his former employer to reveal what she was planning.
But her response sent a shiver down his spine: âWell, thatâs where you come in!â
Five knew that tone all too well. He had heard it many times before, when she had confronted him with a job. Another face, another name, another correction in the timeline. Princess Diana of Wales, Josef Stalin, John F. Kennedy, HindenburgâŚ
âNope. No, it isnât.â
He knew deep down that his response wouldnât change her mind. Not just yet. Just like she knew that he wasnât completely turned off by the offer.
The Handler hummed and stood, making her way around him so he was forced to turn around and look up. Five hated the way he had to look up at every one in this body, it didnât make enforcing his authority any easier.
âIn exchange for the assassination of the boardâŚalong with the completion of your last failed jobâŚIâm willing to get you and your family out of this timeline and back to 2019, where you belong.â
In that moment, Five did his best to not let any emotions slip past his mask. He knew of course what job she was referring to. The one he didnât complete. The last job he worked for the Commission before breaking his contract. Though he knew that another organisation, one he knew all too well, had also been interested in getting the job done, the Commissiom had been the one to complete it. Or at least, they had tried. And now, she wanted him to take off where he had left.
In order to save his family, Five had to kill the board of directorsâŚand shoot John F.Kennedy.
As soon as the Handler returned to the Commission, she began to prepare her backup plan. While she was fairly certain that Five would take her deal-his protectiveness for his siblings made him too predictable sometimes; she wanted to make sure the job got done. And so, instead of heading straight to her office, she made her way to a door that lead down into the basement. Only the click of her high heels echoed through the hallway.
The Handler missed the times when Five still worked under her. Back when he was fresh out of the apocalypse, malnourished and in need of training, he had done everything she commanded. Including fighting the second best assassin in the timeline. She hadnât even given him a reason and there hadnât been even a valid reason for it. The Handler had simply wanted to see who would win.
And after cooperating with the company that owned the second best assassin for some augmentationsâŚFive had turned out to be even more powerful. He was truly the deadliest assassin. Even deadlier thanâŚ
Her lips curled upwards as she stopped before a capsule, frozen over with ice.
After he had received his fatherâs invitation for a âlight supperâ, Diego needed to blow off some steam. Though Luther was far easier to talk to now than he had been a few months ago, it didnât change the fact that he was angry. Angry at his father for using them in sick experiments for whatever, angry at Lila for leaving, angry atâŚthe fact that Five refused to take action and help him save the president. He had no idea why that was so hard for his brother, who often claimed that he could do anything.
And so, he made his way to a bar. Not to drink, of course, but to play darts, use his powers to maybe earn a few dollars. It was cheating, but he couldnât care less. All of the darts that he threw hit the tripple twenty, he barely had to think about it. Diego was so immersed in his outlet, he didnât even realise that he was being watched.
Erik was not like Charles. He couldnât detect mutants with a machine from miles away. But he had common sense. And while watching Diego play darts in that bar, he recognised the way some of the darts curved before hitting their target. He had done it before with missiles and bullets. That sense of familiarity caused Erik to smile and walk over. Despite leaving Charles behind, he wasnât alone. Not only was the president like him, but now he had found another one of his kind.
âYouâre quite good at thatâ, he commented and tilted his head. Sometimes, Erik wished that he could take a look in peopleâs heads the way Charles could, but he also liked figuring some things out on his own. The man in front of him, apparently Latino, possessed quite a few scars, signs of battle and injuries. But what caused him to frown was a tattoo on his wrist, in the shape of an umbrella. Erik didnât even know why it reminded him of the numbers permanently etched onto his skin, but it did. It was a sign of ownership and control.
Diego turned towards him while throwing a dart, which still hit the bullseye.
âYeah, thanks. Itâs not that hard thoughâ, he replied, before muttering under his breath, âI wish saving the president was just as easy.â
Despite it just being a whisper, a small expression of his thoughts, Erik heard half of it.
âWhat was that?â, he asked and his expression went from a smile to a frown. There was more to it and he was going to figure out what.
However, Diego shrugged it off and sat down. After spending some time in an asylum, in the 1960s no less, he had grown used to people ignoring what he said.
âYou wouldnât believe me, even if I told you.â
Erik hummed and picked up a nearby coin that had been left behind as a tip. Just so Diego could see, he let it float above his palm. A small gesture, to say something that couldnât be said aloud: Weâre the same. You can trust me.
âWhy donât you just tell me and let me be the judge of that?â, Erik asked, handing the coin over to the bartender to get another drink.
Diego stared at the coin for a few moments. No one had taken him seriously before. He was alone on Team Zero, if he was being honest with himself. And in Erikâs eyes, he just saw understanding. So he took a deep breath and nodded.
âAlright. Iâll tell you.â
After slaughtering the board of directors, Five expected to feel disgusted. He had tried to swear off killing after all. It was supposed to be just one last time, to protect his family. To save them from doomsday.
But instead, it had felt right. Of course, he would deny it if anyone asked. To himself though, lying wasnât an option, though he had tried it for 58 years of his life. He had grinned as he stood there, covered in blood and holding an axe like a medieval executioner. Watching AJ beg for his life, it had been like music.
And he hated it. Five hated himself for enjoying it. The Handler had made him a killerâŚor had he really always been one?
Had someone else, the Commission or the organisation that had sharpened his reflexes and mind, made him out to be the worldâs deadliest assassin, now stuck inside a teenagerâs body? Or was it just him?
Not a programming, telling him what to do, not some foreign DNA dictating his urgesâŚNone of that.
Five quickly abandoned the thought. He had more pressing matters at hand.
âAlrightâ, he told himself and closed the case containing the sniper rifle, âOne last time.â
Meanwhile, Erik had a plan. Diego had told him what was going to happen and even though it sounded outlandish, insane evenâŚhe couldnât allow that to happen. He had to keep the president safe, he couldnât allow anyone to take a shot at him. Kennedy was one of them, loosing him would be catastrophic.
Even if Diego was just an insane wayward mutant, the risk was too great. He wouldnât take any chances. Shortly after their conversation, Diego disappeared. And even though he could have been useful, Erik decided not to look for him.
So after putting a hat and sunglasses on, he made his way to the grassy knoll.
Five always felt a certain sense of peace while setting up his crime. Arranging his gun and utensils the way he wanted, getting the perfect angle. It grounded him.He enjoyed the calm before the storm, it was the favourite part of his job. But he didnât know that this time, he wasnât the only one setting up this assassination under the Handlerâs orders.
Not even three hundred feet away from him, the Wintersoldier was hidden behind a small wall. His orders had been clear. If Number Five failed to accomplish his task, he was to take his shot, to make sure the target would be eradicated. His movements in setting up the sniper were pure efficiency, nothing more.
He barely remembered the seconds upon waking up, just that there had been a woman and her red lips had been moving. The first sentence coming out of his mouth had been the only one that mattered: Ready to comply.
Diegoâs day had really not been the greatest. He had been kidnapped and betrayed by the woman he loved, then thrown back into 1963 to stop Viktor from blowing up the FBI building. The bright light had hurt his eyes as he made his way forward, all of his muscles strained in an effort to bring himself forward. But eventually, he lost his grip and the world went black for him.
When he woke up however, soft rays of sunlight illuminated the hallway. And despite the way his body ached, relief washed over him as he spotted Viktor coming towards them, safe and sound. They had suceeded.
âYouâre aliveâ, was the sentence that came out of his mouth and a soft smile appeared on his face. Diego had done it, his brother and the world was safe.
But then, through his dizzy mind, a thought dawned on him. He quickly glanced down at his watch and cursed himself mentally. Of course he wasnât done yet, there was still one thing left. The very thing he had tasked himself with.
âKennedy is a few minutes awayâ, he stated and pushed himself up, ignoring the way his body protested, âI can still save him.â
Diego barely heard Allisonâs protests. Finally, he could do what he was meant to do. He could show Dad that he was wrong. Reginald Hargreeves didnât make him a hero with his experiments, he himself did. And he would do that by stopping him, saving JFK in the process.
Erik was standing on the grassy knoll when Kennedy made his turn. While he didnât appear busy on the outside, he was in deep concentration. No bullet could escape him like this, not one would even get close to the president.
But suddenly, he was pulled out of his concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a person all clothed in black, running in his direction. After a few moments, he recognised Diego, the one who had warned him in the first place. Diego wasnât running towards him however, but instead a man standing a few feet away from him, holding an umbrella on a sunny day.
How could he have been that blind? It was obvious, so out of place that anyone could have spotted it. But yet no one did. Just as Erik was about to help Diego with pinning the man down, he felt it.
Five had of course spotted Diego, tackling a random man on the grassy knoll. But he had no time to deal with his fool of a brother, he had to save him first. And so, he inhaled and exhaled deeply. He only focused on the target, which was Kennedyâs head.
âOne last timeâ, he promised himself, then pulled the trigger.
The bullet didnât reach its target. Erik managed to get ahold of it before it could reach Kennedy. Meanwhile, Diego had realised his mistake. The man he had tackled had merely been a distraction, set up by his villain of a father.
Before he could think about it further, a second bullet made its way towards the president. It didnât come from Five this time, but wasnât any less deadly. With Erik distracted and still holding the first bullet, Diego tried to instinctively change the curvature. A bullet was different than a knife though. He was exhausted, so his grip wasnât as tight. And when Erik tried to help, they both lost their grip.
The bullet curved, but still found its intended target. They had failed. The 35th president of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, was dead.
The Wintersoldier relaxed a bit after watching his task be completed. He had done as told, he could go back, as commanded. Bucky Barnes may have cared about what happened after, but he didnât. He had served his purpose.
Instead of relaxing, Five let out a string of curses. He had failed, again. The slaughtering of the board, it had all been for nothing. The deal was off and he didnât know how to get his siblings back, even if the end of the world was no more. They didnât belong here and without a briefcase, they had no way of returning to 2019.
âDamn it, Diegoâ, Five mumbled before he teleported, off to find another solution.
Diego felt like a child again as he looked up and ran. He had failed in his task, but worse, he had indirectly been the one to do it. For just a few seconds, the bullet had rested in the grip of his powers. If he had just held onâŚKennedy would still be alive. He was no hero, he was a failure, just like his father had always told him. Always Number Two, doomed to fail from the very beginning. He would have to find his siblings, make sure they were okay. Maybe it hadnât been about Kennedy in the first pace. Maybe Eudora had been right all along: You want to proove that back then, when your father had you running around in masks and uniforms, that it wasnât for nothing.
Erik didnât have enough time to run. And despite his best efforts, he was quickly surrounded by police. They were there to arrest him, for killing the president, despite his best efforts to save him. Quite ironic when he thought about it. He would have more time to reflect on it later. Erik tried to get free, willing the guns to point away from him. But there were too many policemen. He felt a small pinch in the side of his neck before his knees gave out and the world went dark.
In the end, the only person content with the results was the Handler. Even if Five would have succeeded, she never would have given him a fair chance to escape with his siblings. Like this, the timeline was preserved and she would be able to kill him for what he did to her. She would be the most powerful woman in the timeline, with no rogue assassin and his annoying family to challenge her claim. Before she could celebrate though, she would have to go to war.
John F.Kennedyâs death had merely been the start ofâŚsomething.
