Chapter 3: Mistreatment of four and Seven

[Third Person's PoV] 

A Few Days Later…

Number 8 was floating above his bed, his physical body still slightly hovering in the air. His eyes opened, and a triumphant smirk spread across his face. He moved forward, leaving his body behind, and when he noticed his corporeal form still floating, he couldn't help but raise his arms in triumph.

"Hell yeah, baby! I finally did it! I finally projected my consciousness from my body!" 8 celebrated, looking down at his ghostly, translucent hands.

As he inspected his hands, he let out a sigh of relief. "I don't look like my past self, so that's good. It took me years of practice, and that was one of the things I was most worried about."

With that, 8 phased through the door of his room and into the hall, moving effortlessly through the air. He decided to check on his siblings, out of both curiosity and habit. 

First, he peeked into Number 1's room, where he found him doing push-ups, as usual. Nodding to himself, 8 continued on to Number 2's room. As soon as he entered, a knife came flying directly at him, hitting him squarely in the forehead. Startled, he quickly looked around and realized that Number 2 was merely practicing his aim, and the target just happened to be positioned at the door where he had floated in.

Shaking his head, 8 ignored Number 3's room and headed straight for Number 4's. When he found the room empty, his expression darkened. He quickly detected where Number 4 was, and the lights in the house began flickering strongly as his concern grew. With a burst of speed, 8 shot through the house, heading straight out

He found Number 4 curled up in a cemetery, his ears covered and eyes tightly shut. The sight broke 8's heart.

"Please leave me alone," Number 4 pleaded, his voice trembling.

"Hey 4, it's me… 8," 8 said softly, hoping his presence would be comforting.

Number 4's eyes snapped open, and when he saw 8's apparition, tears began streaming down his face. "You're dead? What happened!? Why! You can't be dead!" he began to sob uncontrollably.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down! I'm not dead. It's a new application of my telepathic abilities, please calm down," 8 quickly reassured him.

"Huh? Really?" Number 4 asked, his tears slowing as he looked at 8 in surprise.

"Yup, I managed to send my consciousness out of my body, gaining access to the astral plane. Pretty sick, right? But don't tell the old man, who knows what weird tests he'd come up with."

"Well, at least I'm not alone now…" 4 smiled weakly, relief washing over him.

8 sat down beside him, his ethereal form hovering slightly above the ground. As 4 then asked "You know, you're really strong… Why don't you just leave? Fly away, never look back. Get away from everything." Number 4 sighed, leaning his head against the wall. 

"And leave you guys alone with that psycho of an old man? Hell no." 8 scoffed, shaking his head. "Hey, I have a question. Why are you so afraid of your abilities?"

There was a long silence before Number 4 finally admitted, "I'm scared of my body being taken over and being locked away from it forever. Since those ghosts know I can see them, they ask me to allow them to take over my body and interact with the real world. Not to mention I sometimes have to lend it to them because of the missions Dad sends us on…"

"I see…" 8 nodded, understanding the weight of 4's fears. "You don't have to worry about that now."

"Huh? Why?" Number 4 asked, confused.

"Sorry in advance," 8 said with a mischievous grin.

"Sorry for wha—" Before 4 could finish, 8 gave a strong shove, and suddenly, 4's astral body was pushed out of his physical form. He gasped in shock as he looked down at his ghostly hands and then back at his body lying on the ground.

"The hell was that for!" 4 yelled, shoving 8 back in frustration.

"Duh, to show you that now you don't have to be scared anymore. If any ghost plans to overstay their welcome, I can easily push them out if you aren't strong enough to get your body back yourself," 8 explained with a smirk.

4 shivered in disgust as he swam back into his body, the cold, lifeless sensation still lingering in his mind. He woke up with a gasp, sucking in air as the door to the tomb slid open.

"Number 4, any progress in your abilities yet?" Reginald asked, a notebook in hand, his tone clinical and detached.

"No, sir..." 4 replied, his voice subdued.

"And who were you talking to?" Reginald's gaze was sharp, scrutinizing every detail.

"Myself... It helps with the loneliness..." 4 answered, feeling 8's presence as he flew around Reginald, peeking at the notebook.

…

**Notes:**

*No progress so far, but he has untapped potential.*

*Possibility of isolation leading to mental problems, uncertain.*

…

8 saw the word "uncertain" underlined heavily and couldn't help but scoff. His eyes narrowed as Reginald closed the tomb once more, sealing 4 back into his isolation.

He flew back down towards 4. "It says you might be developing mental illnesses because of the isolation."

"It sure feels like it," 4 muttered, the weight of his confinement pressing on him.

8 felt a tug, causing him to click his tongue in annoyance. "Looks like I'll have to leave soon. I can't stay too long away from my body. And I just learned to do this today, so I haven't perfected it. I'll see you later, 4—"

8's consciousness was abruptly pulled back to his body, causing him to crash onto his bed with a sigh.

'Congratulations, you've reached a new level of power with your psychic abilities,' the Phoenix suddenly said, her voice echoing in his mind.

'What can I say? I'm just built different,' 8 replied with a smirk, stretching his telepathic powers over the entire mansion.

But as he did, his expression darkened. "That bastard has 7 in the vault again... If I don't control my emotions, I might snap his neck the next time I see him."

'Why don't you? Right now, you have the power to level an entire city. Why not do it?'

'1. If I kill him, we'll all be taken away, thrown into different families. It would be difficult to see each other again.

Although his methods are outright abusive, he's still helping them control and learn how to properly use their abilities. Without it, they might have killed themselves or others by now.

The others wouldn't understand. They would see me as a killer who murdered our father. I'm an empath. I would feel their hate towards me... I couldn't handle that.

If we do get separated and taken elsewhere, who's to say those that know of our abilities wouldn't take advantage of them? Who's to say they wouldn't dissect us to replicate our power?'

The Phoenix let out a sigh. 'Sometimes I think those empathic abilities of yours are more of a curse than a blessing. You care too much.'

'How can I not? This little family of ours might be heavily dysfunctional, but they're the only one I have... The only one I ever had... In this life and the last.'

8 sighed and sat cross-legged once more, preparing to use his abilities again.

'And what are you doing now?' the Phoenix asked curiously.

'Visit my sister…' 8 replied, his focus shifting.

…

Pogo handed Number 7 pills with a glass of water. 

"Thanks, Pogo," she said, downing the pills and washing them down with the water.

Pogo smiled gently. "Anytime, Number 7," he said, exiting the room. As the large vault door closed behind him, 8's figure began to materialize in the dim light.

"8!" 7 exclaimed happily. "Did you come to hear me practicing?"

8 smiled warmly as he leaned against the wall. "You know I never miss when you play," he said casually.

7 gave an awkward smile. "I would have much preferred if you would listen when I've perfected a piece," she said, picking up the violin case by her bed.

8 shrugged. "As they say, there's beauty in imperfections. But it's nice to see one of us has a hobby that's not damaging. So, as your brother, I have no choice but to support you."

"Hehe, thank you..." She smiled graciously as she positioned her chin, preparing to play. "This is a piece I've been recently practicing..."

She began to play, her music filling the vault, the notes echoing off the walls, bringing a brief moment of peace in their otherwise tumultuous lives.