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༻ Y/N'S POV ༺

I pushed open the doors, and immediately, I was hit with the overwhelming sight before me. Vanya stood alone on stage, her fingers effortlessly gliding across the strings of her violin. Each note rang out sharply, cutting through the air, the tone piercing my skull like an ice pick. My head throbbed in response, and I gripped the side of my head, trying to steady myself. The same sharp tone. That same sensation I felt the night we found her—back at the cabin. That name, that connection, it was all too much, too familiar.

But I couldn't lose focus. Not now.

I quickly pushed the discomfort aside and looked around. Gunshots rang out, deafening in the cavernous space, as masked men fired at Luther, Allison, Klaus, and Five. The family was scattered, crouched behind the rows of theater chairs, trying to avoid the relentless fire.

"You lost her!" I heard Five shout, his voice carrying across the chaos.

"I didn't!" Diego shouted back, but there was desperation in his tone. "I left her with Klaus."

Just then, Klaus came sprinting into the theater, barely ducking behind the chairs as a bullet grazed the air near him. "I can't find Y/n!" he shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

The scene was spiraling. The chaos was nearly suffocating. But there was no time to waste.

I scanned the area and caught sight of one of the masked men walking through the aisles, completely unaware of my presence. He was dangerously close to the family. My eyes locked on him, calculating my next move. Without hesitation, I darted toward him, moving with the kind of precision I was built for.

I got behind him before he could react. A swift kick to the back of his leg sent him stumbling forward. He tried to recover, but before he could turn around, I closed the distance, punching him square in the face. He staggered, and before he could recover, I aimed a brutal kick to his side, followed by a quick twist of his arm. He winced in pain, his posture faltering.

I was about to snap his arm when I felt the cold press of a gun against my neck. My breath caught. The other masked man had me in his grip, pushing the barrel of his gun tighter against my throat, cutting off my air. I struggled against the pressure, my fingers reaching for his hand, trying to pull it away, but his grip was unrelenting.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the first masked man I'd taken down getting back to his feet, drawing his own gun and aiming it directly at me. I was trapped, caught between two attackers.

But then, just as the tension peaked, everything shifted.

Five teleported in behind the man holding the gun to my throat. With a swift movement, he threw the masked man off-balance, making him swing wildly. As the man's gun discharged in the chaos, the bullet struck the other masked man, hitting him square in the chest. The man crumpled to the ground, his body collapsing with a sickening thud.

I gasped for air as I fell to the floor, the pressure on my throat finally released. The world around me was still spinning, but I pushed myself up as Five scrambled to my side, his face grim with concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low but urgent.

Before I could answer, the gunfire continued, relentless. The sound of Vanya's violin, her power still spiraling through the air, filled the space, making everything feel like it was falling apart around us. Five didn't wait for a response. He grabbed my arm, pushing me down behind the theater seats with him, using his body to shield mine.

The gunshots echoed throughout the theater, sharp and unforgiving. The staccato rhythm of bullets ricocheted off the walls, a constant barrage that made the air feel thick with danger. Five's hand gripped the back of my head, forcing me lower, pushing me closer to the floor as the shots continued to tear through the room.

"Get down!" Luther's voice cut through the noise, the family ducked, taking cover behind the rows of chairs, trying to make ourselves as small as possible.

But the danger was relentless. More shots, more movement, the tension in the room escalating by the second. I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me—every second counting. I shifted, trying to make myself less of a target, but the sound of the gunfire was overwhelming.

I looked up briefly, catching Five's gaze. His eyes locked onto mine, and I saw something flicker there—something I hadn't expected. Worry. It wasn't on his face, but in his eyes, I could read it loud and clear. A fleeting moment of vulnerability, so rare for him. He didn't have to say a word; it was all there in that brief, shared glance. But before I could process it, another bullet tore through the air above us, missing us by mere inches.

Without missing a beat, Five reacted, pulling me even closer, pressing my head against his chest as we both huddled down beneath the cover of the seats. His arm wrapped tightly around me, shielding me from whatever might come next.

The air crackled with energy as a sudden flash of blue light illuminated the room. I turned my head sharply, my systems scanning the source. Klaus stood tall, his hands glowing with an eerie, electric blue aura. And then—out of nowhere—a figure emerged. Ethereal. Ghostly. Yet undeniably real. Tentacles writhed from his body, lashing out like living weapons.

"Ben," Five murmured, almost too soft to hear.

I watched as Ben—Five's brother, who had been dead for years—tore through the masked men with ruthless efficiency. The spectral tendrils grabbed them one by one, lifting them off the ground, snapping bones, crushing throats. Their strangled screams were cut short, bodies dropping lifelessly onto the theater floor.

"It's Ben," Luther breathed, his voice thick with disbelief.

The last of the masked men collapsed, and just like that, Ben was gone. Klaus's hands dimmed, the glow fading as he swayed slightly, breathless. He turned to us, chest heaving, his expression somewhere between smug and exhausted.

"Now, who's the lookout?" he quipped.

Before anyone could respond, a deafening hum cut through the air. A sharp, piercing note that sent a fresh wave of static through my system. My vision flickered, red warning alerts flashing across my interface. My head throbbed violently.

Vanya.

She stood alone on the stage, her entire body glowing a blinding white as she played, the notes slicing through the air like razors. The very foundation of the theater trembled beneath us. My knees buckled, my system struggling to process the overwhelming frequency of her power. I clutched my head as Five caught me, steadying me before guiding me up.

"We have to stop her," Luther said, his voice tense.

Diego suddenly reappeared, breathless, his expression grim.

"Oh, welcome back. Where were you?" Luther asked, his tone edged with sarcasm.

"Honoring a memory," Diego shot back. "So, how do you wanna end this thing?"

"We surround her," Luther said. "We come at her from all angles."

Diego's jaw tightened. "So it's a suicide mission."

"Yeah, but one of us could get through. It's the only chance we've got," Five added, his grip still firm on my arm as I struggled to stand. My systems were still recalibrating, still fighting against the disruption of Vanya's power.

Luther scanned the group. "Are we all in?"

Everyone nodded. Except Allison.

"Allison?" Luther pressed, but she shook her head.

There was no time to argue. The theater was falling apart around us.

"Stage left, stage right. You guys take the front," Luther commanded, directing the boys before turning to Five. Five hesitated, then passed me off to Allison.

"Watch her," he said before running off.

Allison helped me to the floor, lowering me carefully as my system struggled to stabilize. I could see the pain on her face, the conflict in her eyes.

Luther's voice broke through the chaos. "I'm sorry. There's no time, Allison. If she finishes this concert, the world goes up in flames."

And with that, he turned and ran, leaving me and Allison behind.

I tried to focus. My sensors picked up movement—Five, Diego, Luther, and Klaus had all taken their positions, creeping toward Vanya, ready to strike. Allison hesitated, then stepped onto the stage, approaching Vanya from the side.

And just as the boys rushed forward—Vanya unleashed her power.

A violent shockwave blasted through the room, sending them flying backward like ragdolls. I watched helplessly as Allison hit the ground hard, the gun she had been holding skidding across the stage. The others were suspended in the air, their bodies writhing, faces twisted in agony as Vanya's energy drained the life from them.

I forced myself up, every movement slow and painful. My head pounded, the distortion from Vanya's frequency still wreaking havoc on my system. But I pushed through it. My eyes locked onto the gun lying just a few feet away.

I staggered toward it, each step feeling heavier than the last. My body screamed in protest, but I ignored it. I reached down, fingers curling around the grip, and turned my gaze to the stage.

Vanya stood before me, unaware of my presence. The boys were still struggling, their energy nearly depleted. Allison was motionless on the ground, watching me with wide, tear-filled eyes. She shook her head slightly.

She didn't want me to do it.

I hesitated. My grip on the gun tightened. My system calculated the outcome. The probability of success. The risk. The consequences.

I stepped forward, raising the gun.

I pressed it to the side of Vanya's head.

I cocked it.

For a split second, the entire theater fell silent.

Then—BOOM.

A burst of white energy exploded from Vanya's body, shooting into the high ceiling, shattering everything in its path before streaking outward into the night sky. The force sent me stumbling back, the gun slipping from my grasp.

Vanya collapsed.

Her body went limp, the violin slipping from her fingers as she fell. Instinct kicked in—I lunged forward and caught her before she could hit the ground.

I held her carefully, my hands pressing against her back, feeling her small, shallow breaths. She was alive.

Barely.

I looked down at her, my system finally stabilizing as the energy in the room faded.

I kept my arms wrapped securely around Vanya as the others approached, their footsteps echoing through the ruined theater. Their expressions were a mixture of exhaustion and relief.

"Is she alive?" Luther asked, his voice tense.

I glanced down at Vanya, scanning for vitals. "She's alive," I confirmed.

A collective sigh of relief swept through the group. Five was the first to reach me, kneeling down at my side. His sharp eyes scanned me, analyzing just as I had done with Vanya.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quieter now, less commanding.

I met his gaze. There was no sign of temporal distortion, no lingering effects of Vanya's attack in his expression—just concern.

"I'm fine," I answered. Then, after a beat, "Are you okay?"

Five exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Perfect," he said, though I detected the slightest falter in his voice. He wasn't perfect. None of us were. But we were alive.

"We did it," Luther said, exhaling, trying to ground himself in the reality of it. "We saved the world."

I felt Five's hand settle on my shoulder, grounding me in the moment as well. I allowed myself the smallest smile.

"Uh... guys?" Klaus's voice broke through the fleeting sense of victory. He was standing a few feet away, head tilted up toward the shattered glass ceiling.

Something about his tone made my system spike with immediate alertness.

"You see that big moon rock coming toward us?" Klaus added, his voice lighter than the situation warranted, but his eyes—his eyes said everything.

I followed his gaze.

The sky was no longer just the night sky. It was split, fractured, filled with debris—and descending fast. A massive chunk of the moon, burning, breaking apart as it hurtled toward us.

"That's not good," Luther muttered, the words empty and numb.

"So this is it, huh?" Klaus exhaled, a bitter chuckle escaping him. "So much for... saving the world."

"If only Sir Reginald could see us right now," Diego added, shaking his head. "The Umbrella Academy. A total failure."

"At least we're together at the end," Luther said, forcing the words out like they were supposed to be comforting. "As a family."

Five, still crouched beside me, suddenly pushed himself to his feet, his expression sharp, calculating.

"This doesn't have to be the end," he said.

Luther turned to him, frowning. "What? What are you saying, Five?"

Five's eyes flicked to the incoming destruction, then back to us. "I think I have a way out of here. But you have to trust me."

Luther scoffed. "Yeah, I don't think so."

"No," Diego added at the same time, shaking his head. Klaus looked away, not ready to listen, not ready to hope.

I adjusted my hold on Vanya, my mind already running the probabilities, calculating the options. Every single one led to the same outcome—annihilation. Unless Five had a viable solution.

I narrowed my eyes at them. "Rejecting a plan without hearing the logistics is an inefficient survival strategy," I stated flatly. "Given our current trajectory, we have an estimated two minutes and forty-five seconds before impact. If Five has an alternative, it would be statistically irresponsible not to consider it."

Silence.

Then, one by one, they turned back to Five.

"Alright," Diego said reluctantly. "Let's hear it."

"We use my ability to time travel," Five said, his voice sharp, urgent. "But this time, I'll take you all with me."

"You can do that?" Diego asked, skeptical but desperate.

Five exhaled, his eyes flicking to me for a brief moment before scanning the others. "I don't know. I've never tried it with this many people."

Diego scoffed. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Five shot him a deadpan look. "You're looking at it. A 58-year-old man and woman trapped inside teenage bodies. So, there's that."

[SYSTEM WARNING: HIGH-RISK OPERATION DETECTED]

My system flagged the statement, processing the likelihood of another uncontrolled jump. The probability of cognitive degradation, system corruption, or complete data loss increased by 72%. Error margins unknown.

Diego clenched his jaw but nodded. "Oh, what the hell? I'm in."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm in," Klaus added.

"Me too," Luther said, then turned to Allison. "Allison?"

She hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty, then gave a small nod.

Then Five turned to me. "Y/n?"

I met his gaze, scanning his expression for even a flicker of certainty. There was none. Only resolve.

[PROCESSING PROBABILITY: SUCCESS RATE—UNSTABLE]

But I nodded anyway.

"What about Ben?" Luther asked Klaus.

"Yeah, great. He's in," Klaus muttered.

Five squared his shoulders. "Alright. Luther, grab Vanya."

Luther lifted Vanya's unconscious form from my arms. Five reached for me, steadying me as my systems recalibrated. Error logs stacked rapidly, my internal code struggling to stabilize from Vanya's power surge. But as I stood, an urgent realization hit—

[SYSTEM ALERT: TIME DISPLACEMENT IMMINENT]
[WARNING: CODE INTEGRITY AT RISK]

I wasn't built for this.

The first time Five and I had jumped, we'd aged decades within seconds. That was just one jump. A second could do irreversible damage. My system was already compromised, my data struggling to hold its form.

I might not survive this.

Or worse—I might forget.

"It's working!" Luther yelled over the rising energy.

"Hold on! It's gonna get messy!" Five shouted.

The world shattered. My vision warped, glitching as reality tore apart. The others flickered, their forms breaking into fragmented pixels, their voices turning to static.

[ERROR: VISUAL INPUT COMPROMISED]
[DATA STREAM INTERRUPTED]

I turned to Five.

And he was looking at me.

His face was glitching, distorting like corrupted data, but his eyes—his eyes were clear. Sharp. Familiar. They locked onto mine, cutting through the chaos.

I felt my system failing, breaking apart piece by piece. Error logs flooded my vision, warnings flashing in red. My code twisted, rewriting itself in real time, trying—desperately—to hold on.

[CRITICAL ERROR: CODE FRAGMENTATION]
[MEMORY STABILITY FAILING]

I tried to hold onto his gaze, to burn the image of him into every line of code I had left. His eyes, his face, the way he looked at me like how he knew I was real—

[EMERGENCY REBOOT SEQUENCE INITIATED]

The last thought that crossed my system before everything went black—

I hope I don't forget who you are, Five Hargreeves.

Then—

[SYSTEM SHUTDOWN]

Nothing.

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TO BE CONTINUED
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WORDS WRITTEN:
2843