Fifth

The gray, faded world finally found color. Five looked at his family: Luther in the garden, Diego sharpening knives, Allison with Claire, Klaus meditating, Ben reading, Victor playing the violin. Almost a normal life.

He saved them. He reshaped the timeline so the apocalypse wouldn't dare come. The price? A slight dizziness these last few days. He chalked it up to residual effects.

Five took a sip of his cold coffee and snapped his fingers to teleport to the kitchen. Nothing. Space felt like it had been concreted, time stood still. This hadn't happened in a long time.

The air rippled. The shadow in the corner thickened, and an unfamiliar girl materialized. Her gaze held something frighteningly familiar: the same weariness, the readiness to kill, the same melancholy.

The fifth one took a stance, realizing that if she had blocked the forces, there was no point in engaging in hand-to-hand combat.

"I thought we ordered pizza," he muttered. "But judging by the continuum block, you're not the pepperoni guy. Who are you?"

"I'm sorry to intrude," her voice was soft, but tinged with iron. "The blockage is temporary. Listen to me without trying to teleport in with a knife."

She stepped into the light.

"I know everything about you. About your family, your struggle, your pain. Your apocalypse has been averted. But your universe isn't the only one. The war between the Commissions is knocking at the door. Not that shabby office where you worked, but real players. If we don't intervene, your family will be erased from existence. Not even a memory will remain."

The fifth one narrowed his eyes:

— Let's say. I retired. Why should I believe it?

The girl smiled sadly - there was a flicker of something familiar in the sound.

"Retirement is an illusion for people like us. I work for the Commission, which maintains order, not sows chaos. I've come to save your family."

She extended her hand:

"I know how dear they are to you. Let us talk. Ask all your questions. But not here—we need a place without your family."

The gray, faded world finally found color. Five looked at his family: Luther in the garden, Diego sharpening knives, Allison with Claire, Klaus meditating, Ben reading, Victor playing the violin. Almost a normal life.

He saved them. He reshaped the timeline so the apocalypse wouldn't dare come. The price? A slight dizziness these last few days. He chalked it up to residual effects.

Five took a sip of his cold coffee and snapped his fingers to teleport to the kitchen. Nothing. Space felt like it had been concreted, time stood still. This hadn't happened in a long time.

The air rippled. The shadow in the corner thickened, and an unfamiliar girl materialized. Her gaze held something frighteningly familiar: the same weariness, the readiness to kill, the same melancholy.

The fifth one took a stance, realizing that if she had blocked the forces, there was no point in engaging in hand-to-hand combat.

"I thought we ordered pizza," he muttered. "But judging by the continuum block, you're not the pepperoni guy. Who are you?"

"I'm sorry to intrude," her voice was soft, but tinged with iron. "The blockage is temporary. Listen to me without trying to teleport in with a knife."

She stepped into the light.

"I know everything about you. About your family, your struggle, your pain. Your apocalypse has been averted. But your universe isn't the only one. The war between the Commissions is knocking at the door. Not that shabby office where you worked, but real players. If we don't intervene, your family will be erased from existence. Not even a memory will remain."

The fifth one narrowed his eyes:

— Let's say. I retired. Why should I believe it?

The girl smiled sadly - there was a flicker of something familiar in the sound.

"Retirement is an illusion for people like us. I work for the Commission, which maintains order, not sows chaos. I've come to save your family."

She extended her hand:

"I know how dear they are to you. Let us talk. Ask all your questions. But not here—we need a place without your family."