During the first apocalypse, Viktor Hargreeves had lost control, his powers had ruptured the moon, sending fragments hurtling toward Earth. The destruction was catastrophic. To survive, the Hargreeves siblings were forced to flee their timeline, using Number Five’s abilities to jump decades into the past.

They landed in the chaotic turbulence of the 1960s, where they faced everything from civil unrest to time-traveling assassins. In the end, after an intense battle with The Commission, led by the relentless Handler, they managed to secure a briefcase. It was their only shot at returning to their proper time.

But when they stepped foot into what should have been their childhood home, the Hargreeves Mansion, something was... Wrong.

Gone were the familiar hallways. The aesthetic had changed, sleeker, colder, militarized. And standing at the top of the stairs was a very-much-alive Sir Reginald Hargreeves, arms crossed, flanked by seven strangers in matching uniforms. Each one carried themselves with confidence, and calculation.

The old man peered down at the Umbrella siblings as if they were intruders.

“Well. This is unexpected,” Sir Reginald said with an edge of amusement in his voice. “You're trespassing.”

Luther Hargreeves, Number One, stepped forward, mouth hanging slightly open.

“What the hell... Who are they?” he asked, glaring at the seven newcomers.

Sir Reginald adjusted his cufflinks before speaking with clipped precision. “My children. The Sparrows.”

The statement hit the Umbrellas like a blow to the chest. Standing beside Sir Reginald was a woman, calm and poised, you. Known as his assistant, but more than that, his long-standing confidant and trusted ally in this altered timeline. You stood with quiet authority, your familiarity with the Sparrows clear in the way they didn’t flinch or question your presence.

Sir Reginald cast a final glance at the Umbrellas and gave a small, disinterested smile.

“Handle this, will you?” he said to you before turning and walking away down the hall. The two groups stared at each other, heavy silence between them.

“Who’s that?” Five Hargreeves, the time-hopping, sharp-tongued Number Five, asked suspiciously, his narrowed gaze flicking to you.

Before you could speak, Ben Hargreeves, but not their Ben, stepped forward, his eyes cold and unfamiliar. In this world, he was alive. And very much not the same kind-hearted ghost they once knew.

“That’s Father’s assistant,” Ben Hargreeves of the Sparrow Academy said firmly. “She belongs here. She’s helped raise us. So don’t try any bullshit.”

He stood tall beside the rest of the Sparrow Academy, Marcus, Fei, Alphonso, Sloane, Jayme, and Christopher.