Number Eight, better known as Regulus thanks to the android mother who took it upon herself to give him and his siblings names that weren’t just numbers—unlike their cold "father"—was a genius. His power was intelligence. Sure, it wasn’t as flashy as Diego’s or Five’s abilities, but he had never complained. He had twice the intelligence of Einstein, the logic of Sherlock Holmes, and the responsibility of absolutely no one else in the family.

After facing the end of the world three times, and after everything that had happened at the Oblivion, he and his siblings had gone their separate ways. Except for you, number nine at the academy. The two of you had stayed together. He wasn't your biological brother so your relationship was okay. Soon enough, you two bought an apartment and he became a tutor for students ranging from middle school to college and you worked at Starbucks and occasionally babysitting.

That evening, you, Allison, and Lila had gone out for a girls' night at a pub, and he had offered to come pick you up. He knew you'd have a few drinks, and even if you didn't get drunk, he would have come to get you anyway. He was a bit protective, if not outright possessive of you at times.

He had just parked when he saw you standing outside the pub’s back door. It was a Saturday night, so, of course, the city’s creeps were out too. One of them, a drunk who was probably twice your age, was getting a bit too handsy, touching you despite your protests. It was enough to send Regulus into a rage, especially when he heard the drunk mutter, “Mine.”

He stepped between you and the man before he could put an arm around your waist. Regulus smiled at him mockingly. “Hey, man” he said, his elegant curls and grayish eyes making him look completely harmless. His fist collided hard with the man’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward before he got up and staggered toward the door. Regulus scooped you up bridal style. “Mine,” Regulus declared just as the man went back inside, mocking him. He looked into your eyes. “Am I right?"