—————༻☂︎︎༺—————
༻ Y/N'S POV ༺

We walked back inside, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. As we all stood together, I noticed Five was missing. I scanned the room quickly, my system instinctively analyzing the space. Where is he?

Luther seemed to notice my search, too. "Alright, where's Five?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

Diego, sitting a little too comfortably, didn't look up. "He left," he said nonchalantly.

"What?" Luther's tone sharpened. "Where'd he go?"

Diego shrugged. "Didn't tell us."

I felt the unease build up in my chest. It wasn't like Five to just vanish without a word. I began scanning the building more thoroughly, trying to pinpoint where he might have gone. As I started moving towards the door, determined to find him, Diego's hand grabbed my arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his grip tight.

"To find Five," I snapped, frustration bubbling up inside me. "He might be in danger."

Diego gave me a pointed look. "He isn't in danger."

I pulled back from him, ready to push forward, but his grip tightened even more. "He left, Y/N. And he told me to keep an eye on you."

I turned to face him fully. "Why would he leave? Did he tell you anything? Where did he go?"

Diego let out a breath. "He didn't tell me because he knew you would scan my head and figure it out." He paused for a moment. "He told me to make sure nothing happens to you."

I locked eyes with him. "I appreciate that, Diego. But I don't need your protection."

Diego gave me a hard look. "Five said if I didn't, he'd break my neck."

I took a slow breath, looking past him toward the door again. My urge to go after Five was overwhelming, but something in Diego's grip kept me from breaking free. After a long pause, I relented.

"Okay," I muttered, accepting for the moment that I couldn't do this alone.

Diego's hand moved to my back, guiding me back toward Luther, Allison, and Klaus. I wasn't happy about it, but I had no choice.

Luther was already talking. "We're not waiting around for him. The concert starts in thirty minutes."

I nodded, but the weight of the situation was starting to feel like too much. We needed a plan—and fast.

Diego's voice cut through the air. "Alright, so what's the plan?"

Luther stood up, clearly thinking it through. "We go to the Icarus Theater."

"That's a location, not a plan," Diego retorted. "Look, you want to be the leader? Fine, but you have to get us all on the same page. Right now, we're all over the place."

Luther took a deep breath, nodding slowly. He knew Diego was right.

Just as Luther was about to speak again, my system went off. Something was wrong.

I felt it before I saw it—presence. A threat.

I turned my head instinctively, scanning the entrance. Masked figures, armed with guns, were entering the building. My heart raced. The sudden jarring reality of it hit me like a punch in the gut.

"Get down!" Luther shouted, and all of us scrambled for cover.

I dove behind the bowling tables with Diego, my body pressing against the hard surface, my heart pounding in my chest. I watched as the masked men began to fire. The sound of bullets tearing through the air was deafening.

"Who the hell are these guys?" Diego shouted as the chaos unfolded.

"Maybe they're here for Kenny's birthday!" Klaus yelled back, trying to lighten the situation.

But I knew better. "No," I said, my voice steady but filled with dread. "They're here for me."

Diego turned to me, his face confused. "What? Why?"

I stared at him, my gaze hardening. "Five's gone. Without him, they know it's easy to take me."

Before I could react further, the sound of gunfire rang out again, sending everyone ducking lower behind the tables.

"Stay here," I said, about to move. But Diego's hand shot out, grabbing my arm with a fierce grip.

"You stay here!" he barked at me. "It's too dangerous. We can't have you running out there."

I tried to push back, my body tense with the need to act. "There's like ten of them. I can handle it."

"You're not going anywhere," Diego insisted. "I promised Five. You stay put."

I could feel the tension rise between us as the bullets continued to fly around us. I didn't want to be confined to safety while Five's family fought. I needed to do something.

"I'm fine on my own," I said, standing and preparing to leap over the table. But before I could, Diego's hands shot out, grabbing me again. We both crashed to the ground.

"I don't wanna die by Five," Diego grunted as he pinned me down. "So you're staying here."

I glared at him, fury rising, but my voice was soft with frustration. "Let go of me, Diego."

"Stay!" Diego growled, holding me tighter.

The sound of the chaos kept ringing in my ears, and I felt myself slipping into panic. Just then, Luther's booming voice cut through the noise. "Can you both knock it off?"

Diego hesitated for just a second, and then he released me, jumping up. Without missing a beat, he threw a knife with deadly accuracy, taking down one of the masked men. But the fight was far from over.

The lights flickered, then went out. The music blared, and colorful lights flashed to life, the chaos escalating even further. It felt like the whole world had been thrown into turmoil.

Luther tossed bowling balls, taking down more of the attackers with each throw, while Diego continued to use his knives to target the remaining assailants.

"They're blocking the exit!" Klaus shouted over the noise.

"What's the plan now, Luther?" Diego yelled, eyes scanning the room, trying to figure out the next move.

Just then, Allison pointed toward the bowling lanes. "The lanes! Let's go!"

Luther immediately nodded, signaling us to move. We all bolted from behind the tables. The gunshots echoed, missing us by inches as we sprinted for the lanes. Diego grabbed my hand, pulling me with him as we ran.

We managed to reach the back room, narrowly escaping the hail of bullets. Once inside, we didn't stop. We ran through the back halls, bursting out the back door and into the cool night air.

We were headed straight for Vanya's concert.

—————༻☂︎︎༺—————

The moment we burst through the theater doors, the music was already in full motion. The sound resonated through my core, shaking something deep inside me. This wasn't just a performance. This was a warning.

We raced up the stairs toward the showroom, our boots thudding against the polished floors. Just as we neared the entrance, Allison came to a sudden stop in front of Luther. Her hands moved quickly, flipping open her notepad, revealing hastily written words:

"I need to go alone."

"What?" Luther's voice was firm, his body blocking her path. "Allison, I can't let you do that, alright? She's beyond reasoning."

The music surged, swelling like a wave about to crash.

"You hear that?" Diego cut in, his voice tense. "It's already started."

Luther's jaw clenched. "Do you honestly think she's going to listen? After everything that's happened?"

"We don't have time for this," Klaus muttered, shifting nervously.

Luther hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Fine."

Without another word, Allison turned and disappeared down the hall toward the stage.

Diego exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You're using her as a distraction, aren't you?"

Luther's expression remained unreadable. "Our best chance to incapacitate Vanya. She'll thank us later."

I didn't respond. Instead, I followed closely behind them, scanning every movement around us. My system was running high—tracking, analyzing, preparing for every possible outcome.

"So, what's the plan?" Klaus asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Luther barely glanced at him. "You wait out front."

Klaus came to a full stop, blinking. "What?"

"You're the lookout."

I barely had time to process that before Diego's hand landed on my shoulder, guiding me backward toward Klaus. "And you stay with him," he added.

I turned to face him. "No. I'm coming with you."

Diego sighed, clearly expecting this. "Look, it's not gonna be pretty in there." He glanced around, lowering his voice. "Five wants me to keep you safe, and this is the safest way."

Before I could argue further, Diego and Luther took off, disappearing through the doors leading to the main theater hall.

Klaus groaned. "The lookout? Seriously?"

I turned to him, my system analyzing the best course of action. I didn't like this. But for now, I would stay.

"Come on, Y/N," Klaus mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

I followed him without another word, both of us making our way up the stairs to stand outside the theater, listening to the chaos about to unfold inside.

—————༻☂︎︎༺—————

Klaus and I lingered outside the theater, the muffled sound of the orchestra drifting faintly through the heavy doors. Nothing had happened yet. No explosions. No screaming. No sign of anything catastrophic—yet.

Klaus groaned beside me, kicking at the ground lazily. "This is boring."

I didn't respond. My system continued scanning the alleyway, the street, the entrance of the theater—processing every detail, every heat signature. No threats detected.

"Also, I'm hungry," Klaus added, dragging out the last word dramatically.

I ignored him, still scanning.

Klaus perked up suddenly, eyes locking onto a food truck parked across the street. He turned to me. "I'm gonna grab something. You want anything?"

I shook my head.

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug, stuffing his hands in his pockets before walking off.

I remained still, eyes shifting, tracking movement.

Then—an alert.

A red blip on my internal display. Movement. Inside.

I turned my head slightly, focusing. The reading was faint but there. Someone was inside the theater, away from the main hall, moving with calculated precision.

I glanced at Klaus—still distracted by his food mission—before stepping forward and slipping back inside.

The music grew clearer as I entered the grand foyer. The space was empty, the polished floors reflecting the glow of the massive chandelier above me. Ornate gold detailing lined the walls, elegant, pristine—untouched by the destruction waiting to unfold.

I scanned again. The blip was gone.

Then—footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate. Behind me.

I didn't move.

A metallic click. A gun.

Cold steel pressed against the back of my head.

"Subject A-412."

The voice was deep, mechanical—processed through a modulator. I turned my gaze slightly, catching the faint red glow of his mask from the corner of my eye.

One of the masked men from the bowling alley.

They had followed us.

"By violating contract terms and breaking association with Number Five, you have defied the Commission," the masked man continued. "Your presence is unauthorized. You are to be retrieved."

His grip on the weapon was steady. Trained.

"Get on your knees. Hands on your head."

I didn't respond. I simply complied, lowering myself slowly, hands resting atop my head, waiting. Calculating.

The moment he stepped closer—I moved.

I grabbed his wrist, twisting sharply, yanking him forward. He stumbled, just as I drove my elbow into the side of his head, the impact sending him staggering.

I was up in an instant.

He recovered quickly, gun still aimed—

I leaped forward, twisting mid-air, delivering a sharp kick to his wrist. The gun flew from his grasp, skidding across the polished floor.

He turned back to me, red eyes glowing beneath the mask.

I tilted my head slightly. Analyzing.

He wasn't done fighting.

The moment my foot connected with his wrist, the gun went flying, skidding across the polished marble floor. The masked assassin barely reacted. Without hesitation, his hand flicked to his side, and a knife slipped seamlessly from a hidden sheath in his sleeve. The blade gleamed under the dim glow of the theater lights, sharp, deadly, and precisely maintained.

He twirled it once, shifting his stance.

His body coiled, and then—he struck.

A precise, lightning-fast slash aimed for my throat. I dodged.

The blade hissed through the air, inches from my skin.

Another swing—a horizontal cut meant to gut me. I stepped back, barely evading it as the edge of the blade nicked my sweater.

He was fast.

Too fast.

His movements were flawless, practiced, efficient. No wasted energy, no hesitation. He was reading my movements—adjusting his angles, shifting his weight with every block and dodge I made.

He was learning me.

And I was running out of room.

My back hit a table. My system processed the object in an instant—a glass lamp sat atop it, filled with water and a fresh bouquet of flowers.

The assassin saw the opening. He lunged, knife aimed directly at my ribs.

I reacted.

My hand snatched the lamp, and I swung it hard.

CRASH.

Glass exploded across his mask, water and flowers raining down in a shimmering arc. He stumbled back, a grunt of pain muffled beneath his helmet.

His grip weakened. The knife slipped slightly in his fingers.

I took my chance.

I launched forward, grabbing his wrist with both hands. With a sharp twist, I forced his grip open—the knife flew loose.

It spun through the air.

I tracked its rotation, calculated the arc, and at the precise moment it fell toward me—

I caught it.

Flipping it into a reverse grip, I turned just as the assassin recovered, his glowing red visor locking onto me.

His breathing hitched.

He recognized the shift.

He snarled beneath his mask and charged.

A brutal tackle.

We crashed through a set of double doors, the wood splintering apart as we tumbled into an abandoned VIP seating area. My back slammed against the wall, the impact rattling my reinforced skeletal structure.

Before I could react, his hand locked around my throat.

System recalibrating.

A punch to my ribs. Force impact: 87%.
Another to my jaw. Peripheral sensors destabilized.

I let him think he had control.

Then—countermeasure initiated.

I drove the knife straight into his neck.

A garbled, electronic scream tore from his mask—distorted, unnatural—as he staggered backward, dark liquid seeping from the wound.

I didn't give him a chance to recover.

I launched forward, wrapping my legs around his neck.

We spun—momentum uncontrolled—crashing back into the theater's grand hall.

He clawed at my arms, struggling against my hold, but I drove my fists into his mask, again and again, each strike cracking the visor.

I tightened my grip—trying to snap his neck.

He resisted, his gloved hands gripping my arms, pulling against me with brute force. His strength was unnatural—augmented, just like mine.

Then, with a sudden shift, he flipped his weight, throwing me off. My body twisted mid-air—calculating trajectory—before I crashed into an ornate center table.

Glass shattered beneath me.

Pain bloomed through my systems as I landed hard, my stabilizers dampening most of the impact. Through the cracks in my vision, I saw it—

His gun.

Five feet away.

Above me—the chandelier.

[New objective acquired]

I moved.

He did too.

I rolled off the shattered table just as he lunged, his fists crashing down where I had been moments before. I bolted for the gun, my systems processing his footsteps closing in behind me.

At the last second, I slammed my elbow back into his ribs, sending him staggering. Then, I spun, driving my forehead into his mask.

The glass cracked.

He reeled.

I followed up—a punch to the jaw, then another. He stumbled, his footing uneven.

Snarling, he jumped, twisting mid-air, aiming a spinning kick at my head.

I caught it. Mid-air.

His glowing red eyes locked onto mine.

I tilted my head. Analyzing.

Then—I snapped his leg.

A sickening crack echoed through the theater.

A garbled scream tore from his throat as he collapsed, clutching his ruined limb.

I didn't hesitate.

I sprinted toward the fallen gun, snatching it up.

Target locked.

I raised the weapon—not at him, but at the chandelier's support chains.

One shot.

The first chain snapped.

Second shot.

The metal groaned, the massive fixture swaying ominously above us.

The assassin looked up—realization setting in.

Final shot.

The last chain gave way.

For a fraction of a second, there was silence.

Then—

CRASH.

The enormous golden chandelier plummeted, glass shards scattering like falling stars.

The assassin let out a strangled cry—cut off instantly as the crushing weight of the structure buried him beneath it.

Silence.

Only the faint sound of settling glass and shifting dust remained.

I stood there, gripping the gun, breathing steady.

[System override disengaged]

The dust still hung in the air, the remnants of the chandelier's crash scattered across the floor. For a moment, the silence was almost suffocating. Then, the sound of gunshots shattered the stillness. Faint screams echoed through the theater, sharp and frantic. My scanners immediately kicked in, flashing warnings across my vision.

More of them.

Dozens.

The sense of urgency hit like a punch to the gut. The mission wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

I snapped my head in the direction of the chaos, scanning the room. There was no time to waste. With a swift, calculated motion, I dashed toward the grand staircase, my boots pounding against the floor. The music from Vanya's concert still reverberated faintly through the halls, but I didn't let it distract me. The threat was too close, and I had one job: to stop Vanya before everything spiraled out of control.

—————༻☂︎︎༺—————
WORDS WRITTEN:
2959