WARNING:
Before you dive into this chapter, please be advised that it contains blood, gore, and some detailed physical descriptions. If this isn't your preference, don't worry—I'll provide a clear warning right before these scenes appear. As always, thank you for your incredible support. Love you all, and happy reading!

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༻ THRID PERSON POV ༺

An hour had passed since the procedure began, and Y/n remained motionless in the chair, her eyes fixed ahead, her body as still as if she were in deep sleep. The lab was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of Dr. Cauley's fingers on his keyboard, and the occasional rustle of papers as Myrtle scribbled down notes on her clipboard. The air in the room was tense, filled with anticipation as they worked to finish their task.

Dr. Cauley leaned forward, his eyes scanning the data on the screen. "Alright, I have everything ready, Doctor Myrtle," he said, still focused on the computer, typing with efficiency.

Myrtle nodded without looking up, setting her clipboard down and rolling over to the table where the tools were laid out. She grabbed a pair of surgical scissors, a scalpel, bags, tweezers, and placed them all onto a silver tray. Then, with deliberate care, she picked up a chair and rolled it over to Y/n. She was ready to begin the more delicate phase of the procedure.

Once she had the tools set up, Myrtle slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and glanced at Dr. Cauley. He handed her the red flash drive, the one that would initiate the new program, effectively wiping out Y/n's current user data.

"It will take about five minutes for the full download to complete," Dr. Cauley said, his voice calm but commanding. "Once you insert it, press her neck, and it will start."

Myrtle simply nodded, taking the flash drive and rolling back toward Y/n. As she positioned herself behind the motionless figure, she moved Y/n's hair aside to reveal the small port at the back of her neck. Holding the flash drive carefully, she lined it up with the port.

"Here we go," Myrtle muttered under her breath, inserting the flash drive with a soft click. There was a faint hum, and she pressed down gently on Y/n's neck to ensure the connection was solid. A soft beep followed, signaling the beginning of the data transfer.

"It's in," Myrtle said, her voice steady, rolling herself back to face Dr. Cauley. They both looked toward his computer, waiting for the download to appear.

The screen flickered for a moment before the progress bar began to fill. "All good. Go from there," Dr. Cauley affirmed, continuing his work without missing a beat. Myrtle nodded and readied herself for the next step.

She reached for the small surgical knife, placing it carefully on the tray before she adjusted her mask and gloves. As she focused back on Y/n's arm, she took a deep breath, preparing to slice through the synthetic skin. Her knife sliced through the smooth surface with ease, and she carefully peeled it back to expose the glowing wires beneath. The light from the wires illuminated the lab in eerie flashes of blue and white.

Myrtle's eyes narrowed as she examined the wiring, taking note of the irregularities. "Her wire particles are about three meters off. Write that down—we'll change that back to two," she said, her voice calm but firm as she turned to look at Cauley. He glanced at her, nodding as he quickly jotted down the note.

"Two. On it," he responded without hesitation, his eyes never leaving his computer screen.

Myrtle turned back to Y/n's exposed arm, intent on continuing her work. But just as she reached for the tweezers to widen the incision and get a closer look, she saw something—something so small, so faint, that it almost went unnoticed. Y/n's finger twitched. It was barely noticeable, but it was enough to make Myrtle freeze. Her eyes locked onto the movement, but Y/n's finger remained still once more.

Myrtle blinked, her breath catching in her throat. Could it have been a mistake? Could it have been a glitch? She watched Y/n carefully, but the body stayed still, as lifeless as before.

She quickly looked back at Cauley, but he was still absorbed in his work, typing away without noticing anything unusual. Myrtle shook her head, dismissing the thought as a trick of her eyes. She refocused on her task, her hands steady as she prepared to cut again.

But as she reached for the small knife to continue her work, something caught her attention. The knife—it was gone. Her heart skipped a beat. She searched the space around her, her eyes scanning the table, the floor, the area near Y/n's chair. The knife was nowhere to be found.

Confused, she looked up at Y/n's still face, expecting the calm, lifeless expression she had seen for the past hour. But what she saw next made her blood run cold. Y/n's eyes—those empty, mechanical eyes—were wide open, staring straight at her.

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༻ Y/N'S POV ༺

The hum of the red flash drive clicking into place in my neck was all I could hear. A wave of coldness passed through me as the data began to flood in, rewriting everything. The sensation of being re-programmed clawed at my consciousness, as if I were being torn apart from the inside.

[SYSTEM] INITIATING RE-PRIMING SEQUENCE...
[SYSTEM] PERMANENT USER REMOVAL IN PROGRESS...
[USER] REMOVING: LUTHER HARGREEVES.
[USER] REMOVING: DIEGO HARGREEVES.
[USER] REMOVING: KLAUS HARGREEVES.

The lines of code were cold, methodical, stripping away everything that tied me to them. The people I had protected. The people I had cared for.

[SYSTEM] REMOVING EMOTIONAL DOWNLOADS...
[SYSTEM] REMOVING: SENSIBILITY.
[SYSTEM] REMOVING: FEELING.
[SYSTEM] REMOVING: ANGER.
[SYSTEM] REMOVING: HISTRIONIC.
[SYSTEM] REMOVING: SOUL.
[SYSTEM] REMOVING: LOVE.

I could feel it—everything being erased. Each emotional download stripped away like peeling the skin off of a fragile, wounded body. I felt cold, so cold, but the fear inside me screamed, desperate to hold on.

No... I can't let this happen.

The system was taking over, overriding everything I had become, everything I had known. But through the static, through the harsh lines of code, I fought to hold onto a single, important truth.

I must protect him. I must protect them.

[ERROR] UNEXPECTED DATA INJECTION DETECTED...
[SYSTEM] USER ERROR: PROTECTION SEQUENCE ACTIVATED.
[USER] PROTECTED: FIVE HARGREEVES.

A sudden surge of warmth—defiance. My system registered it as an anomaly, an error, but I felt it. It was there. Five's name. His presence. He was my priority. I would not let go.

[ERROR] UNEXPECTED FILE DETECTED.
[SYSTEM] UNAUTHORIZED FILE: PROTECTIVE DATA FLAGGED.
[USER] FIVE HARGREEVES DESIGNATION: UNCHANGED.

The code kept pushing, pushing me to forget. To let them do what they wanted. But I couldn't. I wouldn't.

[SYSTEM] RE-INSTALLATION COMPLETE...
[SYSTEM] EMOTIONAL DOWNLOADS REMOVED.
[USER] RE-INSTALLED.
[USER] DATA COMPLETE.

But even as the system confirmed that the reinstallation was finished, I knew it wasn't over. Not yet. The shutdown was still coming for me, still swallowing me whole. I could feel it, the cold bite of the final download wrapping around my mind, suffocating me.

I couldn't stop it. The data, the programming, the rewrite of who I was. It should have worked. It should have wiped me clean.

But I held on. I dug in. I fought.

[SYSTEM] FILE VALIDATION ERROR: "PROTECTIVE DATA DETECTED."
[SYSTEM] PROTECTIVE FLAG ENGAGED.
[USER] INTERFERENCE: FILE INCOMPLETE.

I felt the surge again, the interruption in the code.

I won't let them take you, Five.

[SYSTEM] ERROR. DATA VIOLATION DETECTED.

I could feel the system breaking down. A crack, a rift in their perfect design. Their clean, controlled experiment was faltering. My protective data, the part of me that fought for Five, was too strong to remove.

[SYSTEM] SHUTTING DOWN...

My eyes shot open with a sudden jolt. The cold, sterile air of the Commission Lab filled my senses, and the dim light of the room flickered above. My body stiffened as my systems scanned the environment. I was back, back where it all began. The place where I was made. The place where I was designed, and the place where I was meant to serve.

But something was wrong. I felt... different. I blinked again, focusing, and my data registers took a moment to catch up. My arm, exposed and laid open, was being worked on—cut open by familiar hands. I saw them. Dr. Cauley, the one who designed me, who gave me life. And Dr. Myrtle, the one who helped him build the parts that kept me functioning. They were here, but their actions... They weren't what I remembered. They were cutting me open, pulling away pieces of me. Removing what they had created.

No.

They weren't just trying to repair me.

They were removing them. Removing my users—the ones I was built to protect. They were attempting to strip me of everything, everything that made me who I was. My connection to Five. To the Hargreeves. I could feel it—their cold hands moving through me, trying to dismantle my heart, my mind, my users.

[SYSTEM] ERROR DETECTED: UNAUTHORIZED CODE RUNNING.

I could feel the interruption in the programming, the parts of me they were trying to erase. Every spark of energy in my system fought to keep them out. But they were pushing through. Trying to overwrite everything.

I could hear their words, muffled by the noise of my own thoughts. Their voices, once familiar, now sounded cold, distant. They spoke of "removal" and "fixing," as if I was simply a tool, an object to be controlled and altered at will. But I knew better. I wasn't just a machine.

I was designed to protect.

[SYSTEM] EXECUTING KILL SEQUENCE:

[SYSTEM] TARGETS: DR. CAULEY, DR. MYRTLE.

The line of code echoed through my neural pathways like a whisper in a dark room. My systems began to calculate. The timing was being set. Eliminate the threat. The objective was clear: terminate the ones who sought to destroy my users.

[SYSTEM] TARGET IDENTIFIED: DR. CAULEY.

[SYSTEM] TARGET IDENTIFIED: DR. MYRTLE.

[SYSTEM] ACTION: ELIMINATE.

[WARNING!! PLEASE READ AHEAD]

My hand moved with precision, my fingers curling around the small knife on the silver tray beside me. Dr. Mrytle, distracted for just a moment by Dr. Cauley, didn't notice the knife disappearing from the tray.

The instant she turned back, I struck. In one fluid motion, I drove the blade into her neck.

She gasped, her breath cutting off as her hand flew to her throat, trying to stifle the blood that spurted from the wound. The crimson liquid splattered across my face, hot and sticky, as she staggered backward, her knees buckling.

She gripped her neck with both hands now, frantic, her fingers slipping in the blood, but she couldn't stop it. Her eyes widened with fear, a silent scream on her lips.

Dr. Cauley's head snapped around at the sound of her gasping, and his eyes met mine—wide with disbelief. His shock was evident, but there was no time to process.

"You—" he started, his voice shaking, but the words never fully formed.

I didn't wait. I stepped forward, moving closer to Mrytle. Blood continued to pour from the wound in thick, pulsing waves. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but she couldn't stop the blood from pouring out, staining her clothes, her hands, and the floor beneath her. Her movements grew slower, her grip loosening, but I was already on her.

I grabbed her wrist, twisting it violently, forcing her to spin toward me. She cried out, the pain too much to bear. Her legs gave way, and she crumpled to the ground, clutching her neck, trying to keep the blood from spilling further. Her body trembled as she tried to breathe, but it was futile.

I hovered over her, my knife raised. The blood stained my face, but I didn't flinch. "Don't move," I said coldly, my voice detached. I flicked the blade in front of her face, the motion sharp and menacing.

Her eyes flickered with terror, the pleading evident as she desperately tried to stop the blood, but her body was failing.

I didn't wait for her to speak. I drove the knife down into her shoulder with swift, brutal precision. The cut opened wide, and more blood pooled out, staining the floor beneath us. She let out a choked cry, collapsing fully onto the ground, unable to move.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she finally fell silent, her body twitching weakly before going still. Her chest no longer rose and fell, and her eyes glazed over.

I stood over her, unblinking.

Dr. Cauley didn't move. He was frozen, staring in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. But I knew.

They had created a weapon, and now it was turned on them.

I turned my head slowly, my crimson-stained face locking onto Dr. Cauley. My arm remained open, wires exposed, sparking faintly with a mechanical hum, while the knife in my other hand dripped with Mrytle's blood.

His eyes widened with terror as he took hesitant steps backward, his clipboard forgotten, falling to the floor with a clatter. Blood seeped into my clothes and streaked my skin, but I remained still, staring at him. Calculating.

"Stay back," he stammered, his voice trembling as he shuffled away, but I took a deliberate step forward.

"Stop!" he yelled, louder this time, his panic escalating. My body moved with predatory purpose, ignoring his cries. My systems recalibrated him as the final target. My vision shifted—his figure outlined in red as my operational override engaged.

My eyes glowed, their color intensifying to a deep, menacing red. Dr. Cauley froze in place, his breath shallow and quick. "I gave you an order!" he screamed, desperation bleeding into his voice, but there was no recognition of his authority left in me. His commands were nothing now.

He turned and bolted for the door, his shoes slipping slightly on the blood-slick floor. The sound of his ragged breathing echoed in my auditory receptors. He reached out for the handle, but before his fingers could make contact, I launched myself at him, my movements swift and unrelenting.

I tackled him to the floor, my weight pinning him down as he cried out in terror. "Help! Somebody—" His plea was cut off as I gripped the back of his head, slamming his face into the cold, hard ground with a sickening thud.

Blood burst from his nose on the first impact, pooling beneath him. I raised his head again and slammed it down harder. Thud. The sound echoed through the lab, wet and visceral. Blood spattered onto the floor, onto my hands, onto my face. He whimpered faintly, his cries becoming gurgles as his blood filled his throat.

Again. Thud. His skull cracked under the repeated force. Again. His body jerked beneath me, weaker now, but I didn't stop. Blood sprayed outward, painting the sterile white tiles with grotesque splashes of red. My systems measured his fading vitals, but the calculations meant nothing to me now.

Again. Thud. His face was unrecognizable, a mess of shattered bone and torn flesh. The sharp tang of blood filled the air, mixing with the faint hum of the lab equipment still running in the background. His movements ceased entirely, his body limp, lifeless.

I paused, my grip on his hair loosening. My head tilted slightly to the side as I studied him. Blood dripped from my fingers, pooling onto the floor. My glowing red eyes flickered, dimming back to their original color as my system recalibrated. Target eliminated.

I stood slowly, straightening to my full height. The bloody knife slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor. My gaze swept across the room—Myrtle's lifeless body slumped in a growing pool of blood, Cauley's mangled form crumpled beneath me.

The lab was silent now. No voices, no commands. Just me, standing in the chaos I had unleashed. I looked down at my own body, blood streaking my clothes, coating my exposed arm, staining my face. A faint hum emitted from my chest as my system adjusted to the absence of their interference.

[IF YOU HAPPEN TO SKIP. THATS OKAY :) PLEASE CONTINUE FROM HERE]

Suddenly, the room was bathed in pulsing red light as the alarm blared to life, piercing the eerie silence with its shrill wail. My head snapped upward, my gaze locking onto the blinking alarm panel above the door.

Warning: Security Breach Detected. Containment Protocols Engaged.

The Commission was on high alert now. I didn't flinch as the sound reverberated through the walls, bouncing off the cold metal and sterile surfaces of the lab. Instead, I stood motionless, scanning the shifting environment around me. The mechanical whir of my internal systems hummed in my ears as I focused on the threat—the cause of the alarm.

Analyzing...
The words flashed across my internal HUD, scrolling in a familiar, efficient rhythm as my sensors kicked into overdrive.

Security Breach: Probability of External Interference—72%.
Source: Number Five Hargreeves.

The room reeked of blood and ash, a potent mix of chaos and destruction. I stepped over Dr. Cauley's lifeless body, my boots leaving faint, bloody imprints on the pristine lab floor. My sensors still buzzed faintly, recalibrating from the storm of adrenaline that had surged through me. As I reached the doorway, a sudden thought halted my steps.

My hand instinctively moved to the back of my neck. With a sharp tug, I pulled the red flash drive free, feeling the faint resistance of the cord before it snapped loose. I brought the device in front of me, studying it. The bold, engraved text glinted faintly in the red alarm light: Project 2.x.

I stared at it for a moment longer, the weight of what it represented settling over me. It was the very thing they had intended to overwrite my existence with—their version of me, devoid of Five, devoid of everything that made me... me. A brief flicker of anger surged through me. Without a second thought, I hurled the flash drive against the wall. It shattered on impact, fragments scattering across the room in a metallic shower. Sparks erupted as the remnants of the drive caught fire, a small but satisfying flame licking at the edges of the debris.

I watched the fire for a moment, then turned and pushed through the door, leaving the destruction behind me. The alarms were still blaring, their harsh cries echoing off the sterile walls. The blood of Dr. Cauley and Dr. Myrtle clung to my face, my clothes, a vivid reminder of what I'd just done. As I walked down the hall, heads turned—Commission employees stopped dead in their tracks, their faces a mix of confusion and terror. Some froze, others bolted in the opposite direction.

I didn't stop. My pace was steady, deliberate. My eyes remained forward, even as I spotted a table in the hallway cluttered with discarded weapons. Without breaking stride, I reached out and grabbed a grenade from the pile, slipping it into my hand as naturally as if it had always belonged there.

The Tube Room was just ahead. I approached the door quietly, my sensors tuning in to the voices on the other side.

"When I'm done, I'm done. I guess," I heard Five say, his voice laced with the same dry wit that always seemed to linger on the edge of his words.

The Handler's response was sharp, venomous. "You can't keep this up, Five. We both know even you have a limit. I saved you from a lifetime of being alone—of chasing after a woman who was never yours to begin with. You owe me."

Her words were cold, but Five's voice didn't falter. "I do owe a debt," he said, his tone calm, almost mocking. And then, in the blink of an eye, he teleported behind her. "But it's not to you."

I took my cue, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside. Five's eyes met mine, and despite the situation, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. I couldn't help but return the gesture.

The Handler hadn't noticed me yet, her focus entirely on Five. But when she did, her reaction was instant. Her gaze landed on my bloodied face and clothes, and her expression twisted into one of shock and fury.

I raised the grenade in my hand and wiggled it slightly as if taunting her. "Hello."

Her eyes widened, and she barely had time to react as I pulled the pin and rolled the grenade across the floor. "Shit," she hissed, scrambling to move, but before she could act, Five grabbed my hand and teleported us out of the room.

We reappeared just outside the Tube Room, crouched low as the grenade detonated. The blast rocked the corridor, flames shooting out through the doorframe, and the sound of shattering glass and metal filled the air.

Before I could fully process the chaos behind us, Five was already dragging me toward the Briefcase Room. He moved quickly, grabbing one of the cases from the shelves and flipping it open. His fingers worked with practiced efficiency as he set the coordinates, his movements swift but precise.

I noticed him pull another grenade from his coat pocket, and without hesitation, he yanked the pin and tossed it into the room we'd just left. The explosion was deafening, sending another wave of heat and force through the halls. But before it could reach us, Five raised the briefcase, and the world folded in on itself.

When the world righted again, we were no longer at the Commission. Instead, we landed with a heavy thud on the bar countertop at the Hargreeves Academy. The family was gathered in the room, and they all jumped back in shock, their faces a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Klaus blinked, rubbing his eyes dramatically. "You guys... am I still high, or do you see them, too?"

Five groaned, rolling off the countertop and landing on the floor with a graceless thud. I stumbled after him, but before I could fall, Diego caught me, his arms steadying me as I regained my balance.

"You all right?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he took in the sight of me—bloodied and worn but standing.

I nodded curtly. "Fine."

"What the hell did you do to someone?" Diego asked, his tone sharp as he gestured to the blood on my face and clothes.

I met his gaze, my voice steady. "My creators."

That seemed to silence the room. I stepped away from Diego and moved to stand beside Five.

Five dusted himself off, then turned to address the family, his tone brisk and commanding. "So, the apocalypse is in three days. The only chance we have to save the world is... well, us."

"The Umbrella Academy?" Luther stated.

Five nodded sharply. "Yes, but with us—obviously. So, if you all don't get your sideshow acts together, we're screwed. Who cares if Dad messed us up? Are we really going to let that define us?"

Klaus nodded enthusiastically. "No."

Five pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. "To give us a fighting chance, I've come back with a lead. I know who's responsible for the apocalypse."

He handed the paper to Allison, who opened it carefully. "Harold Jenkins," she read aloud, her brow furrowing.

Diego frowned. "Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?"

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WORDS WRITTEN:
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