Sloth, the hardest sin to define. It's commonly associated with laziness however it can also be associated with inaction.

Number One quickly made his way across the halls, his footsteps too heavy as they always were. He cursed his lack of ability; there was not a single stealth exercise Dad had yet provided him which he could master, his strength always belying his position.

At least he was quick, arriving at the doors to Dad's office only minutes after Pogo had conveyed the request for his presence.

Tapping lightly on the door, still sending a loud boom around the empty corridors, he was brusquely admitted.

"Take a seat, Number One." Father said curtly, not looking up from his desk. There were several sheets of papers in front of him including several which appeared to be building schematics.

He must be planning another operation, One concluded. His chest swelled as he waited for his instructions, satisfied that Father trusted him so implicitly he would be the first to learn of the mission.

Scanning the documents before him, despite them being upside down, he saw it looked to be a large public building. The words exhibition and gallery were repeated throughout – perhaps a museum or art gallery.

Father eventually spoke: "Pogo will debrief you on a new mission shortly. I wanted to inform you first, however. It is different to what you are accustomed to."

"Whatever it is Father, the Umbrella Academy can handle it."

Father frowned.

Number One knew he didn't care for the children calling him Father, let alone Dad, however the thought of calling him Sir made One feel strangely hollow. Going out on missions had provided the Academy members with more experience of the outside world than they had been permitted when they were younger. He observed the relationships normal children had with their families.

He knew seeing those interactions, tender and warm, had made the others feel more and more distant from their Father, but they didn't understand. It wasn't that Father didn't care about them, he just couldn't afford to treat them like ordinary children. It was their responsibility to save the world and his to make sure they were good enough to do so. He couldn't risk coddling them in case it made them go soft. The Academy needed to be prepared for the difficulties ahead.

Still, despite being the only one who knew this, there were times One wished Father would refer to him as a son rather than as a number.

It wasn't what life had in store for them, unfortunately.

"There is an event to be held at the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan. They are hosting a somewhat controversial speaker to deliver a lecture and, given the hostility this individual often receives – including several death threats sent over the last few months – and the precious commodities housed by the Museum, they have asked that the Umbrella Academy attends the lecture to ensure peace is kept. I accepted the contract and have been sent an outline of the event, as well as detailed plans of the building to determine where it would be best to strategically place you all."

Father fiddled with the papers, turning the schematics, flyers and assessment binders around for One to read.

While he fussed with the documents, One considered his words. The contract – did that mean they were being paid? But they already had money, plenty in fact. If someone felt they were in danger wasn't it simply their moral duty to protect them, not to do it for money? And who was the person they were protecting?

A controversial figure, Father had said. Controversial how? Were they about to protect a bad person?

"Number One, you and Number Two will immerse yourself in the audience. Number Three will be positioned behind the stage; that way if a threat presents itself she can address the room and get the audience to safety. Number Four will go to the security offices, coordinating with the Museum's security teams and monitoring the video feeds. You will all be kept in radio contact throughout the event; if Number Four sees anything he can alert all of you immediately. Number Five and Number Six will take roving positions. Number Six will stand on the upper levels, keeping a watch on the events below. I have identified several blind spots in the Museums security measures, which Number Five will jump between throughout the event."

One looked at the plans, seeing where their intended positions were marked.

When he failed to pass comment after several moments, Father tutted with annoyance. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father." He replied duly. Briefly his mouth opened again, tempted to ask who it was they would be protecting, but he shut it before Father could notice.

"Gather the others in the drawing room, Pogo will meet you there imminently." Father instructed, his attention already moving away far too soon for One's liking. "Dismissed, Number One."

Walking away, taking his time to close the office door on the off-chance he was recalled, One headed towards the kitchens where he knew several of his siblings were gathered.

Number Seven was baking with Mom, Four hanging optimistically beside her. He wanted to eat the remaining cookie dough, his spoon poised and waiting.

Six and Five were sat at the table, Six sat in Three's usual seat. Five was helping Six with the chemistry homework he had refused to help One with earlier in the day.

Suppressing a scowl, not sure how successful he was, he called them to attention.

It infuriated him that only Seven, the one member of the family not on the team, glanced towards him.

"Hey, guys." He tried again, raising his voice. "Listen up, we've got a mission."

"The alarm's not ringing." Five pointed out, flipping the pages of the textbook to find the page which would best help Six.

"It's not an emergency. We were hired."

Five's brow raised. "Like a catering service?"

"Someone's life is being threatened, Five." One sighed, wishing for once someone else in the family besides him and Dad could take their duties seriously.

"Who is it?"

"I don't know, someone important."

"You don't know?" Four asked, excitedly accepting the mixing bowl from Seven as Mom put the cookies in the oven. "Well if we don't know who he is how do we know he doesn't deserve to be threatened?"

"Father knows what he's doing. He wouldn't send us to protect someone who didn't deserve protecting." One said resentfully. How could Four even ask such a thing?

"I don't know. I think Four might have a point." Six said, immediately blanching.

"Did you just say I have a point?" Four gushed. "By golly gosh, did everyone else hear that? Please tell me someone got him on tape."

"Where are you going?" Seven asked.

"Seven, please. This is Academy business." He dismissed. The veins in his temples were starting to pulse.

A splat to the side of his head didn't help the blossoming headache. Wiping it he came away with some raw cookie dough and looked at Four accusingly.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Number One." Four said with faux sensibility. "Actually do, that way Seven will give me all of your cookies."

"We get four each." Seven insisted, taking her seat beside Five.

"There's only twenty-six cookies, Seven." Five pointed out.

"Oh, I only need two." She said.

"No, you and I will have three each." He stated, his voice final. Five didn't look up to see Seven's shy but pleased smile.

One sometimes wondered if there was something going on between the two; something similar to the way he often felt about Number Three – like he shouldn't really call her his sister.

It was something their exposure to the real world was increasingly making him question. The families they saw on missions: the Umbrella Academy didn't act like them. For a start, no other family had a Mother made of metal. There were no other children referred to as numbers and forced to wear matching uniforms. So far, he had met no one whose family included a genetically modified monkey. He wasn't even sure what part Pogo was meant to play in their family. A cousin? An uncle? Father definitely didn't encourage any titles, for the first few months of her service the children had all called Grace their Nanny. It was only when Number Two started to call her Mom that the others gradually followed suit.

One and Three stuck to the titles expected of them, brother and sister. He wasn't sure if a word even existed that could fit their true relationship.

It would certainly make his life easier if Five and Seven were together, then at least he would know the word as Father spat it at them. Father constantly chastised him for his close relationship with Number Three, and they were Father's favourites. Perhaps if he saw how much Five cared for Seven, the ordinary one, the one Father always warned was a distraction to them, he wouldn't mind One spending so much time with Three in comparison – putting an end to their relationship but not to his, finally seeing how much better Three made him.

Five was always the rule breaker, the one to challenge Father's rules and question his orders though. When Father told One to stay away from Three, catching them as they tried to sneak into each other's rooms at night, he always obeyed. Would Five? And if not, did that make Five better than him?

"So where are we going?" Six pressed, forcing One to drag his eyes away from Five and Seven's quiet conversation.

"The Museum of Modern Art." He started, his words interrupted by a disappointed noise.

"What is it?" Five asked Seven, who was looking sadly down at the table.

"I've always wanted to go to MOMA." She confessed. "They have Starry Night in there, it's one of my favourite paintings."

Five frowned, thinking how to best cheer her up before acting.

Patting her shoulder, he said: "I'll steal some postcards for you."

"Five, we are not stealing anything." One said indignantly. To think, a few seconds ago he had contemplated Five being better than him. The boy had no morals.

"I didn't say we were." Five said flippantly. "And I would buy them if we were ever given any sort of allowance. How much is Dad getting for our services, anyway? Who wants to bet we don't see a dime?"

"We can't bet because we have no money." Four said, talking with his mouth full to the repulsion of the room. "If we did, I'd buy one of those Von Dutch hats."

The disgust in the room deepened.

"Four, darling." Grace chastised, crossing the room to wash the dishes. "Don't speak while you're eating, it's impolite."

"Sorry, Mom." He apologised, passing the scraped out bowl to her for cleaning.

"We're gathering in the drawing room for a debriefing from Pogo."

The children all remained in place.

"Now." One stated, grabbing Four's arm and ushering him out the kitchen.

"Hey, all right! Watch the jacket!"

Six sighed, closing his chemistry textbook. "I need to take these upstairs first."

"I can take them, Six." Seven offered, picking up the book. "Yours too, Five. You don't want to keep Pogo waiting."

One could have almost hugged her then. If only there were a way to transfer Five's powers to Seven, maybe then he could have someone on the team who listened to their leader.

"They're heavy, Seven." Five argued. "I'll jump upstairs with them. You can keep an eye on the cookies, I don't like mine too crunchy."

"I'm aware." She said, handing him the texts. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Five jumped out of the room.

Six followed him from the kitchen, heading for the drawing room while One jogged up the stairs towards the children's bedrooms.

"Three?" He called.

"In here." She replied, sitting in her bedroom. There was a magazine open in her lap which she was flicking through. "Hey, what's going on?"

"We've got an assignment, Pogo will debrief us downstairs."

"Okay." Three said easily, closing the magazine and clambering off the bed to sidle up to his side. Looking up at him with those searching brown eyes such asked: "Is it anything fun?"

One blinked, always feeling a little unsteady when Three turned her full attention on him. How many soft moments had the two shared, and yet every time he felt her focus on him – looking at him with reassurance, ready to back him up when the others let him down – he felt like his entire world shifted on its axis.

"Erm, some lecture at an art museum."

"Oh, that doesn't sound very interesting." She said, disappointed.

One hated to see her look sad, so he was quick to act, trying to talk up the mission. "No, I think it will be. There will be lots of people there, I bet it will be like a big party. There'll be a stage where the man we're protecting will stand, and you might get to use the microphone if anything goes wrong."

Three's eyes lit up, the promise of an audience never failing to buoy her spirits. It was no secret that from a young age she had started to dream of becoming an actress, even though One knew Father would never permit it. How could he? Without Three there would be no Umbrella Academy and, without them, who would save the world? But how could One help himself from encouraging her, when the dream made her so happy?

"Let's go then." She said cheerfully.

"I'll catch up, I've still got to find Two."

"Don't be long." Three said, her words bringing an easy smile to his face.

"I won't."

They parted ways, One hurrying towards Two's room.

He wasn't inside, which left the training room as the next likely spot.

One unintentionally bumped into Seven on the staircase, throwing a distracted apology over his shoulder as his ungainliness caused her to drop a book, but he had wasted too much time in the kitchen and needed to find Two now before Father could become unhappy with him for taking so long.

Two was throwing his knives at the targets.

One barked more than he spoke: "Two."

"What?" Two said, still surly from that morning.

One's voice softened, feeling slightly guilty. He hadn't really meant to throw Two quite so hard in training, but sometimes when he was sparring his powers got the better of him.

The others didn't understand how frustrating it could be, always having to moderate his strength. How he always worried that he would grab someone's hand too tight, crushing a bone by mistake when he had only been attempting to convey authority in his handshake as Father had taught him to. Leaning into give Three a hug but bruising her ribs instead, when all he wanted to do was comfort her up after a rough day. Opening the door to the bathroom and ripping off the handle, trapping himself inside to the delight of the other numbers. The only weight Two's powers had placed on him was his unbroken high score on the dart board.

"Dad has a new assignment for us."

"He told you first?" Two groused.

"He showed me some layouts so I could see where everyone would be stationed. You'll see them too if you hurry up."

Two sighed, yanking his knives from the target board and holstering them.

"Fine. Let's go."

The two walked side by side, neither one letting the other take the lead.

Numbers Three through to Six were all waiting on the couches, their nervous faces the first thing One saw as he opened the door. Pogo looked at him heavily, slowly drawing One's attention with his eyes to the additional figure in the room.

Father was sat in the corner armchair, levelling a disappointed look in One's direction.

"Eight minutes, Number One, to assemble the team. I expect better from you."

He wanted to argue that it wasn't his fault, that it was the others who wasted time with their silly conversations and interruptions, always questioning him and Father's orders. He wanted to lay the blame at the feet of those who were actually responsible. It was unfair that he had to shoulder the burden of Father's frustration.

"Yes, Father. Sorry, Father." One said, his head dropping with shame.

"All of you go change into your uniforms. There is no time for a full debriefing now, so we will have to go over the final details in the car."

One marched out of the room, shrugging off Three's hand when it landed on his shoulder. His teeth clenched, he stomped all the way upstairs determined to be the first one ready to leave.

I am so nervous about this story, I hope it doesn't get too confusing. There will be 14 chapters but it's really 7 because 2 chapters (two for each sibling) will be uploaded together - hopefully - I'm just splitting them to make it easier to follow. Each sibling gets a sin and each sibling gets a virtue.