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༻ THIRD PERSON POV ༺

The cabin was a graveyard of shattered glass, broken furniture, and the stench of blood, both fresh and old. Luther, Diego, Klaus, and Five had arrived at a speed fueled by fear. The moment they stepped through the door, the sight hit them like a punch to the gut.

Luther was the first to see Allison. His voice cracked as he shouted her name, rushing to her side. She was already gone. Blood poured from the deep gash at her throat, soaking the floor beneath her. She wasn't moving. She wouldn't move again.

Five's heart was in his throat, choking him. The world felt like it had slowed to a crawl as he scanned the room. The terror building inside him was almost unbearable, the fear sharp and relentless.

Where is she?

And then, there. Against the far wall, slumped and still. Y/n.

The world around him disappeared as his feet carried him toward her. His breath hitched in his chest when he saw her—broken, shattered, lifeless. Her left arm was severed, wires sparking from the exposed circuitry. Glass was embedded in her body like a sickening mosaic, and one shard was lodged into her eye, a grotesque testament to the chaos that had unfolded.

"Y/n!" Five's voice was raw, the sound tearing through him. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he gently cradled her face, desperate for any sign of life. Her empty eyes stared up at him, dull, lifeless.

"Y/n, please," Five whispered, but there was no response. No flicker of recognition. She was gone.

Please. Please don't do this to me. Please don't leave me like this.

His hands shook violently as he pressed the power button at the back of her neck, his voice cracking as he repeated her name, again and again. But nothing happened. She didn't stir. She didn't move. The only thing that remained was the coldness of her body in his hands, and the hollow silence that seemed to envelop them both.

I did this to you. This is my fault.

His fingers were still pressed to the back of her neck, his entire body trembling as the reality of the situation set in. He hadn't protected her. He hadn't kept her safe. He had pulled her into this life, into danger—and now she was broken because of him.

The words from earlier echoed in his head—If you hadn't come with me, none of this would've happened. It was a thought that churned inside him, a deep, gnawing regret that sank into his bones. The weight of that regret crushed him, suffocated him, as he looked down at her, hoping, praying that she would respond. But nothing came.

"Y/n..." Five's voice was barely audible, a desperate whisper. Tears began to pool in his eyes, his chest tightening with the unbearable pain of seeing her like this, seeing her destroyed because of him.

I should've let you stay at the Academy. You wouldn't be here if I had just—

The thought was too much. It felt like he was drowning. His hand shook even harder as he pressed the power button again. Nothing.

Diego's voice cut through the silence, but Five couldn't hear him. "We have to take them back to the Academy now. Let's go!"

Five's eyes never left Y/n. He didn't hear the others around him. All he could see, all he could feel, was the weight of her broken body in his hands.

The others moved to take Y/n. Klaus and Diego gently lifted her, cradling her as if she were glass. Five's hands, still pressed to the back of her neck, trembled uncontrollably.

"Give me her," Five said, his voice breaking. His hands were shaking so much he could barely hold onto her, but he needed to be the one to hold her. He needed to be the one who tried to fix what had been broken.

Klaus placed Y/n in his arms, her head resting against Five's lap. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her. The world outside the car was a blur as Diego sped away from the wreckage, but Five's focus remained entirely on her.

His hand never left her power button. His fingers pressed down, praying that she would come back.

Please, come back. Please, please come back to me.

The car ride felt like it lasted a lifetime. It was silent, save for the soft hum of the engine. Five's heart thundered in his chest, a constant, painful reminder that he was losing her. He should have protected her. He should have kept her out of this.

And it was all his fault.

The guilt was suffocating. Every breath felt like it was tearing him apart, and all he could do was hold her, clutch her lifeless form to him as though that could somehow bring her back.

I failed you. I failed you.

His thoughts were spiraling, racing in a whirl of self-loathing. He had pushed her away from the Academy, had made her leave. And now she was broken. Dead.

"Please, Y/n," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his fingers still pressing her power button. His tears slipped down his cheeks, falling onto her cold skin, a silent apology for all the pain he had caused.

The rest of the world faded away. The only thing that remained was Y/n. The only thing that mattered.

But nothing changed.

Five's hand trembled on her neck, the final moments slipping away as he held onto the fragile hope that somehow, some way, she would come back to him.

But the silence was deafening.

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༻ FIVE'S POV ༺

Her eyes were still. Her wires had stopped glowing. No hum of her system, no flicker of life. Nothing.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. Every time I blinked, I was afraid she'd vanish completely. My finger remained pressed against the power button at the back of her neck. The small groove beneath my thumb was where hope lived now, but every second that passed without response felt like a nail in the coffin.

Diego's hands were tight on the wheel, his jaw set in grim determination. The car rocked and groaned under his speed, tires screaming against the asphalt as he pushed it harder. "Hang on," he growled, but it wasn't to me. It wasn't to her. It was to the air, to the gods, to whatever force of nature might be listening.

Luther was in the passenger seat, Allison cradled in his massive arms. He looked down at her every few seconds, his face a mixture of desperation and panic. "I don't think she's breathing," he finally said, his voice cracking under the weight of those words.

The car jerked to a screeching halt outside the Academy. Diego jumped out first, barking something I didn't hear. Luther climbed out next, cradling Allison like she was made of glass, his movements careful but frantic. The rest of them were moving, rushing, shouting—chaos erupted around me as the doors slammed and the world outside blurred into noise and motion.

But I didn't move.

I sat there for a second longer, frozen. Her body was so still in my arms, so cold. The glass embedded in her legs, her torso, her face—it was unbearable to look at. Her left arm was gone, wires hanging limp from the torn socket like severed veins.

I finally forced myself to move, sliding out of the car with her still in my arms. Her head lolled slightly against my shoulder, and I adjusted her, holding her closer. "I've got you," I whispered, my voice trembling despite myself. "I've got you."

The others were already ahead, rushing inside. I followed behind, each step heavier than the last, each second stretching longer and longer.

The front doors slammed open. "Get Grace!" Diego yelled, his voice echoing through the hallways. Klaus was on his heels, his usual carefree attitude stripped away by the weight of the moment.

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Y/n and Allison lay motionless on the medical beds in the Academy's infirmary. The room was heavy with silence, the air dense with worry and grief. Grace stood before them, her composed demeanor only a thin veil for the urgency of the situation.

Allison's pale face was streaked with dried blood, her neck bandaged hastily to stem the bleeding. Her eyes remained closed, her breathing faint but steady. Grace turned her attention to her first.

"She suffered a severe laceration to her larynx," Grace said softly. "We'll need to stabilize her immediately."

"What about Y/n?" Klaus asked, his voice quieter than usual as his eyes darted nervously to her still figure.

Grace turned toward Y/n, taking in the damage with a mechanical but motherly precision. Her eyes lingered on the exposed wires from Y/n's severed arm, the shattered glass embedded in her body, and the faint sparks of her dormant systems.

"Her wires were severed in multiple locations. The damage to her arm has disrupted key functions, but her internal chip appears intact. If I can isolate and reset her core systems, I should be able to repair her," Grace explained, her tone calm but purposeful.

"I'll do it," Pogo said suddenly, stepping forward. All eyes turned to him.

"You?" Luther asked skeptically.

Pogo nodded as he walked to Y/n's bedside, his movements deliberate and careful. He gently lifted her severed arm, inspecting the exposed wires. "I'm well-acquainted with the technology that built her. Her systems are delicate, but I'm confident I can bring her back."

I stared at him, every fiber of me wanting to argue, to demand that I stay by her side. But my throat felt like it was closing, and the only thing I could manage was a sharp exhale as I looked back at her lifeless body.

Grace spoke again, drawing attention back to Allison. "For her, one of you will need to donate blood. Immediately."

"I'll do it," Luther said firmly, stepping forward.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, dear boy," Pogo interjected gently, his tone apologetic but resolute. "Your blood type isn't compatible."

"Hey, no problem, big guy," Klaus said, raising a hand with his signature grin, though it faltered slightly. "I'm all about saving lives. Stick me. I love needles."

Pogo tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Master Klaus... your blood is, how shall I say this, too polluted."

"Move," Diego grumbled, stepping forward. "I'll do it."

Grace nodded, preparing the needle. But before she could even touch him, Diego caught sight of it and promptly fainted, collapsing to the floor with a loud thud.

Everyone stared for a moment, the tension broken briefly.

"Stick him." Pogo said with a sigh.

Grace shook her head slightly but leaned down to begin her work. "You boys should step out," Pogo said, his tone firm but kind. "Grace and I will take it from here."

Luther and Klaus nodded reluctantly, though both hesitated as they glanced at Allison and Y/n one last time. Klaus put a hand on my shoulder.

"Come on, Five," he said quietly. "They've got this. It's Grace and Pogo—we're talking top-tier TLC. They'll fix her right up."

I didn't move. My eyes stayed locked on Y/n. Her lifeless face. Her glass-covered body. The jagged tear where her arm used to be.

I wanted to trust them. I needed to trust them. But every instinct in me screamed to stay.

"Five," Klaus said gently, pulling me back. "She's going to be okay. You need to give them space."

I hesitated, my fingers still pressing against the power button on the back of her neck. For hours, I'd kept my thumb there, willing her to turn back on, refusing to let go.

Now, for the first time, I forced myself to release it. My hand trembled as I did, and it felt like letting go of the last tether holding her to me.

I stared at her one last time, memorizing every detail of her face, her body. Then I nodded stiffly, letting Klaus guide me away.

As I stepped out of the room, I looked back to see Pogo already at her side, his hands steady and sure as he began his work.

But even as the door shut behind me, the guilt didn't leave. It weighed on me like a lead weight in my chest, every step feeling heavier than the last.

This was my fault. If I hadn't dragged her into this—if I hadn't needed her—she wouldn't be lying there now.

If she didn't wake up, if I lost her...

I'd never forgive myself.

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༻ THIRD PERSON POV ༺

Pogo sat quietly in front of Y/n's lifeless form, perched on a small wooden chair that creaked softly under his weight. His furred hands were steady, precise, as he pulled the final glass shard from her leg. The sharp clink of the shard landing in the silver tray echoed faintly in the room. He adjusted his small round glasses, his dark eyes flicking from her injuries to his tools with a sharp focus only years of experience could produce.

The tray beside him was now filled with a disturbing array of debris—shards of glass, frayed wires, bits of shattered circuitry—each one a grim reminder of the battle she'd endured.

Pogo exhaled softly and leaned back, allowing himself a moment to observe her. Y/n's frame sat still against the medical table, her head tilted slightly to one side. The damage was worse than he had initially assessed. Her left arm was entirely severed, the exposed wires hanging limp and sparking faintly. Her legs, riddled with deep gashes, revealed more torn wiring than he anticipated. Her head, though intact, bore a glass shard buried deep in her eye socket, the glow from her remaining systems dimmed and flickering.

He moved closer, gently pushing her hair back from her face to better access the small control panel at the base of her neck. Beneath the strands of hair lay her restart button, surrounded by faint scorch marks from her earlier malfunction. Nearby was the small port for her flash drive—a critical piece of her core systems that needed immediate replacement.

Silently, Pogo rose from his chair and walked over to a nearby counter. From a drawer, he pulled a new flash drive—an updated module designed to stabilize and reboot her core systems. He inspected it briefly, ensuring it was compatible, before returning to her side.

With practiced care, Pogo inserted the flash drive into the port on her neck. A faint click echoed as it slid into place, and he paused, watching for any immediate signs of response.

Satisfied, he turned to the small computer he had set up beside her. The monitor lit up with a flurry of diagnostics as her system began syncing with the new flash drive. Lines of code scrolled across the screen in rapid succession, displaying the damage reports and system errors.

SYSTEM STATUS:
• Critical Damage Detected
• Power Core: Offline
• Memory Bank: Partially Accessible
• Left Limb Functions: Disconnected
• Optical Sensor #1: Non-Functional
• Reboot Status: 0%

Pogo adjusted his glasses once more, his gaze shifting from the scrolling diagnostics on the computer screen back to Y/n. Her body remained still, her head tilted to the side, but there was an odd weight to her presence—a quiet testament to her resilience, even in this broken state. Pogo's small hands hovered briefly over the keyboard as he initiated the download for her new system.

Lines of code began to flood the monitor, the faint whir of her damaged circuits syncing with the new updates. The transfer was slow but steady, the system working tirelessly to overwrite the damaged files with stable, functional ones. Each new line of code was a lifeline, a thread pulling her back toward functionality.

DOWNLOADING NEW SYSTEM CORE... 56%... 72%... COMPLETE.
NEW CORE SUCCESSFULLY INSTALLED. INITIALIZING SYSTEM TRANSFER.

The old chimpanzee moved with purpose, walking to the counter where his surgical tools were neatly arranged. He picked up a sterilized mask and slipped it over his face, securing it snugly before grabbing a set of fine-tipped tools. Pogo approached Y/n again, his hands steady, his focus unwavering.

He leaned down toward her severed arm first, gently lifting the exposed wires protruding from the jagged edge. Each wire was carefully color-coded, their frayed ends sparking faintly as they hung loose. Pogo took a small soldering iron, heating it until the tip glowed red, and began the painstaking process of reconnecting the severed connections.

Tiny sparks danced as he worked, the smell of heated metal rising faintly into the air. His movements were precise, deliberate, ensuring each wire was perfectly aligned before securing it.

Once the wiring was stabilized, Pogo reached for the replacement components he had prepared earlier. He gently slid a new chip into the exposed slot near her shoulder, locking it into place with a faint click. The chip was an updated module designed to interface seamlessly with the new system core he had just installed.

He paused briefly, his gaze flickering to her face. Still nothing. Her eyes remained dull, lifeless. Pogo shook his head slightly, turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Every so often, he would glance at the monitor, ensuring the system transfer was progressing as planned.

SYSTEM TRANSFER: 35% COMPLETE... 49%...

Time seemed to stretch as Pogo worked tirelessly, his furred hands never faltering despite the intricacy of the repairs. He replaced damaged circuits, patched torn connections, and installed new modules where needed. By the time he finished, the tray beside him was filled with broken components—silent witnesses to the chaos she had endured.

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