FIVE WALKED IN silence alongside the Handler, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps echoing off the paved path that stretched toward the Commission's looming headquarters. The sun was high, casting long shadows on the ground as people passed them by, tipping their hats in respect to the Handler. Her sharp, knowing smile never faltered.

"I must admit, Number Five," she began, her voice slick with a blend of amusement and calculation, "in all the time I've been here, I've never met anyone quite like you." Her eyes gleamed as she cast a sidelong glance his way, people continuing to greet her as they drew closer to the imposing glass-and-metal structure. More and more faces passed them, a growing crowd that parted with silent reverence as she led the way.

"Hazel and Cha-Cha, for example, are talented—certainly," she continued, her voice steady and smooth, "but they don't have the vision. They can't see the big picture." She didn't stop for his response, knowing full well she wouldn't get one. Five's expression was carved in stone, his pace perfectly matching hers, but his eyes remained distant, calculating.

"Your spunk, your enterprising spirit..." she went on, her voice lifting slightly as though to flatter herself, "well, it reminds me a great deal of myself, if I may be so vainglorious."

They reached the Commission's entrance, the building looming above them as they ascended the short flight of steps. Its reflective facade was cold and foreboding, a fitting entrance to the place that had caused him—and the world—so much grief.

"If things work out for you here, you could potentially make a fine successor, Five," the Handler said with a smirk, her heels clicking on the polished floors as they stepped inside. They moved up a wide staircase toward the first floor, her tone carrying the weight of someone used to being in control.

Five, however, was already miles ahead. His thoughts sharpened, his mind focused on a singular objective. "I'd like to discuss the logistics of my family's safety at your earliest convenience," he stated, his voice cold and professional. He didn't miss a beat. "And I would also like to see Katerina's brother."

The Handler came to an abrupt stop, turning her head slowly, that sly, dangerous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She tilted her chin, studying him with an almost predatory gaze. "Is that so, Five?"

"I think I've made it pretty clear," he replied, unflinching.

She let out a soft chuckle. "As you wish."

They continued down a sterile, dimly lit hallway. The silence between them was thick with tension, as if a storm loomed just beyond the horizon. Finally, they halted at a nondescript door. The Handler gave him a small, almost mocking nod before turning on her heel and walking away, her presence lingering like the scent of smoke.

Five stared at the door, his hand hovering over the knob. He could already sense the weight of what lay on the other side. Slowly, he pushed it open.

The scene inside hit him like a physical blow. His stomach twisted as he saw Katerina's brother slumped in the chair, his head tilted back at an unnatural angle. Blood dripped steadily from the fresh bullet wound on the side of his head, painting a gruesome picture. The sight, despite everything he'd seen as an assassin, stirred something in him he hadn't expected. It wasn't just death—he was familiar with that—but it was the echoes of Katerina in the boy's face. The resemblance was undeniable.

Five approached cautiously, his steps heavy with the knowledge that he was too late. Darius's lifeless eyes stared blankly into the air, frozen in his final moments of pain. Five looked away for a moment, clenching his jaw. He wasn't used to feeling this way. There had been many deaths, and yet this one, this particular loss, cut deeper than most.

He forced himself to look again, reaching out to close the boy's eyes, giving him a semblance of peace. As his hand lowered, something caught his attention. In Darius's left hand was an envelope. Blood had splattered across it, but the words written in hurried script were still legible: "For Ina."

His throat tightened as he carefully pulled the envelope from the boy's cold grasp. "Ina," he whispered, the familiar name settling heavily in his mind. He shoved it into his pocket, knowing he would have to deal with it later. There was no time to linger in the grief that threatened to take hold of him.

Five stormed out of the room, his pace quickening with each step. He stopped abruptly in front of the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself, though his mind was already a whirlwind of anger and frustration.

He knocked sharply.

"Come in," her voice came through, as smooth and unbothered as ever.

He entered, his eyes burning into her as he approached. "We had a deal," he said, his voice tight with barely suppressed rage.

The Handler leaned back in her chair, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I also had a deal with your little girlfriend. She failed to uphold it," she replied, her tone filled with mock sympathy. "Not that you should care, of course. She tried to kill you, even though she failed miserably. Would have expected more from a trained assassin, wouldn't you say?"

Five clenched his jaw, his gaze momentarily flicking away, trying to rein in the surge of emotions threatening to break free. He had no time for her games.

"Right."

•••

The room was thick with tension, a tangible weight that seemed to press down on everyone.

"We all died fighting this thing the first time around. Remember?" Klaus waved his hand emphatically, underscoring his point. Diego, at the other side of the room, absently twirled a knife between his fingers, its metallic edge catching the dim light with every spin.

"Klaus, shockingly, has a point. What gives us a win this time?" he asked, looking from Diego to Luther, his eyes demanding an answer.

Before Luther could respond, a sudden, crackling noise cut through the room. A high-pitched sizzle filled the air, and a blue, crackling light swirled into existence. Everyone's heads snapped around as Five materialized in the midst of the room, the Commission suitcase clutched in his hand. He landed heavily on the countertop, the suitcase falling open with a clatter.

"Je-Jesus!" Allison's voice was a mix of shock and disbelief.

Katerina's eyes widened, her mind snapping back into focus at the sight of Five. Her voice was flat, almost devoid of emotion. "Way to make an entrance," she remarked, struggling to mask her surprise.

Klaus, looking disoriented, rubbed his eyes. "You guys, am I still high, or do you see him too?" he asked, casting a worried glance around.

Katerina, her hands still bound, gave Klaus a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Everyone except her surged toward Five, their faces a mixture of relief and curiosity. Luther was the first to speak, his voice edged with impatience. "Five, where have you been?"

Five, stumbling slightly as he dismounted from the countertop, gave a half-hearted shrug. "Are you alright?" Allison asked, her concern evident as she reached out. "Who did this?" Luther's question followed closely.

Ignoring their inquiries, Five snatched Allison's coffee from her hand, downing it in a few swift gulps. "Irrelevant," he muttered.

Taking a few deliberate steps forward, Five limped noticeably, his movements heavy with fatigue. He set his gaze on his siblings. "So, the apocalypse is in three days," he began, his tone grim. "The only chance to save our world is, well, us." His eyes briefly met Katerina's, a flicker of anger mingling with something else before he turned back to his siblings. "So if you don't get your sideshow acts together and get over yourselves, we're screwed."

His words hung in the air, his siblings looking at him with blank, stunned faces. "Who cares if Dad messed us up? Are we gonna let that define us?" he continued. In unison, they all shook their heads, the gesture mirroring a mix of determination and resignation. "And to give us a fighting chance to see next week, I've come back with a lead."

The siblings leaned in as Five handed them a folded piece of paper. They unfolded it, revealing a single line of text: Protect Harold Jenkins.

"Harold Jenkins?" Allison's voice was tinged with confusion as she looked up at Five. "Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?" Diego echoed, stepping forward with a furrowed brow.

Five finished his coffee with a final, decisive slurp before tossing the plastic cup behind him. It sailed through the air, hitting Katerina in the head. "Hey!" she protested, rubbing her temple.

"I don't know.... yet," Five admitted tersely. "But I do know that he's responsible for the apocalypse. So we have to find him. And we have to do it now." His tone left no room for debate. Katerina's eyes narrowed as she watched him, his back still turned to her.

"How is he connected to what's going to happen?" Luther pressed, his voice laced with frustration.

"I don't know," Five replied, his voice flat.

Katerina, her patience wearing thin, scoffed. "So you went all the way to the Commission, and all you could find out was his name?"

Five turned slowly to face her, his expression a mask of frustration. He hesitated, the image of the boy flashing in his mind. Without a word, he turned away again. "His name is enough," he said curtly.

"There's probably dozens of Harold Jenkinses in the city," Diego said, stepping forward with a sense of urgency. "Well, we just better start looking then," Five responded, his voice devoid of hope.

As his siblings stared at him blankly, Katerina's mind raced. Her thoughts drifted to her brother. He had been at the Commission—Five must have seen him. "Five," she said, her voice devoid of inflection.

Five turned to face her fully, his expression softening slightly. "Do you know anything about my brother?" Katerina's voice cracked as she spoke.

Five glanced at the rest of the group and spoke softly, "Guys, you should, uh, give us the room." The siblings nodded, but Klaus gave Katerina a lingering, concerned look before leaving with the others.

Five approached Katerina, his steps heavy. He looked down at her, sitting despondently on the couch. "I'm sorry, but—" he began, but Katerina cut him off, her voice rising with a mix of disbelief and anguish.

"No, no, no... this can't be possible. Why didn't you do anything, Five?" Her voice trembled, tears brimming in her eyes. She stood up, facing him with raw emotion. "He was already dead when I arrived," Five said flatly, the weight of his words making his voice hollow.

Katerina collapsed back onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. The pain was like a physical blow, each sob wracking her body as she tried to make sense of her loss. It felt like her entire world had shattered, the fragments cutting through her heart.

"Look, I'm sorry," Five said, his voice a whisper, filled with regret. Katerina looked up, her tears now drying as her face hardened into a mask of cold determination. "Untie me. I have no reason to kill you now," she said, her voice steady but devoid of warmth.

"I can't do that," Five replied, his voice cracking with the weight of his own turmoil. He turned to walk away, unable to bear the gravity of the conversation any longer.

Katerina stood once more, her voice cutting through the silence. "What would you have done, Five?" She stepped closer. "If your family was on the line, what would you have done?"

Five stopped, half-turning to face her. His mouth opened as if to answer but fell silent. His shoulders slumped slightly before he resumed walking away. "We are the same, Five," Katerina called after him.

Alone now, Katerina sank back onto the couch, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The emptiness of the space around her mirrored the hollowness within. She was left alone with her grief, the sting of betrayal and loss mingling with her desperation.

Her mind, fraught with pain, eventually drifted to the need for escape. She rose from the couch, her movements mechanical, and headed towards the kitchen, determined to find solace in the numbing embrace of alcohol.

•••

Katerina sat slumped against the wall, her legs sprawled out on the living room floor, the half-empty bottle of vodka resting lazily beside her. She stared up at the ceiling, tracing invisible lines in the patterns, her mind drifting in a haze. The room was still except for the faint sound of her breathing and the occasional slosh of liquid in the bottle.

Suddenly Luther appeared. He paused briefly, his eyes scanning the space before landing on Katerina. He saw her sitting there, but he didn't acknowledge her at first. Instead, he walked past her, his heavy steps muffled by the carpet. Katerina sat up, squinting as she tried to make sense of his presence, her intoxicated mind struggling to focus.

She watched him as he headed straight for the kitchen, his eyes locking onto the array of opened alcohol bottles scattered across the countertop. Without a word, Luther picked up a glass, filled it with whiskey, and took a long, contemplative sip. Then, finally, he turned back to look at her, his eyes lingering as if he was trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

Luther gestured toward her hands with his glass. "Why are you untied?" he asked, though his tone carried little interest. He took another sip, as if the question wasn't particularly pressing.

Katerina blinked, her head tilting slightly. "Five... he said I wasn't a threat anymore," she said, her voice soft and distant. She waved her hand dismissively, but then her eyes sharpened. "But... why are you drinking?"

Luther sighed deeply, setting his glass down for a moment. He looked down at the floor, then back up at her. "You ever send a bunch of important research to someone for years, only to find out they never even opened it?" His voice was a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Yeah, that's what dear ol' Dad did to me. I sent reports from the moon—years' worth. All of them unopened. It's like I didn't even exist up there."

Katerina let out a short, amused snort, leaning forward slightly. "Oh wow. The moon... Luther's big, life-changing mission, and Daddy never even bothered to read your space emails? What, too many attachments?" She clutched her stomach, unable to hold back her laughter. "All that hard work, all those... craters or whatever, for nothing?"

Luther gave her a flat look, though the corner of his mouth twitched, trying not to laugh. "Yeah, laugh it up. At least I didn't get tied up trying to kill one of my brothers."

Katerina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, her amusement short-lived as a wave of emotion hit her again. Her laughter quickly dissolved into something else, something heavier. She sniffed and blinked rapidly, as if trying to push back the tears that were threatening to spill. "At least... at least your brother isn't dead."

Her voice cracked, and before she could stop herself, tears rolled down her cheeks. She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face in them. "My brother's dead, Luther. I couldn't even save him. I thought—" She stopped, her sobs growing louder.

Luther set his glass down and awkwardly walked over to her, unsure of how to comfort her. He patted her back stiffly, not really knowing what else to do. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't know."

Katerina wiped her face with her sleeve, then, as if on autopilot, grabbed the bottle next to her and stood up. She staggered toward the kitchen and poured herself another glass. "Screw it, let's drink to dead brothers and unopened space mail," she said, her voice slurring slightly.

Luther raised his glass with a half-smile. "To that."

They clinked their glasses together, both taking deep swigs of their drinks. After a moment, Katerina leaned against the counter, staring into her glass as if it held the answers to the universe.

"Did I mention I tried killing Five?" she blurted out, breaking the silence. She took another gulp before shaking her head. "But you know what's worse? I think I have feelings for him." Her voice trailed off as she admitted it, her cheeks flushed with a combination of alcohol and embarrassment. "And now—now I can never get him back. I screwed it all up."

Luther blinked, surprised by her confession. "Wait, what? You have feelings for Five?" He laughed, a deep, incredulous chuckle. "I mean, I get it, he's got the whole brooding, genius thing going on, but really?"

Katerina groaned, covering her face with her hand. "Don't remind me. I know it's stupid, okay? But I do. And now he hates me. He probably thinks I'm a monster."

Luther shrugged, pouring himself another glass. "Hey, we've all got our issues. Hell, look at us. We're drinking ourselves into oblivion in the middle of an apocalypse because our dad messed us up in different ways. You tried to kill Five? Diego's thrown knives at me for less."

Katerina snorted again, lifting her glass to her lips. "Yeah, but Diego's kind of an ass."

"True," Luther admitted, taking a sip. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then added, "Look, I'm no expert on relationships—or whatever this thing is between you and Five—but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that we all make mistakes. Hell, I spent years thinking the moon mission actually mattered. So maybe—just maybe—there's a way to fix this."

Katerina raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

Luther nodded, albeit clumsily, his face already starting to show the effects of the alcohol. "Yeah. I mean, if he's still mad, it's probably because he cares. If he didn't care at all, he'd just ignore you, right?"

Katerina thought about that for a moment, then downed the rest of her drink. "Huh. I guess you have a point."

Luther grinned, a little too proudly. "See? I'm good at this advice thing."

Katerina rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "Alright, fine. Thanks, Dr. Moon. Let's drink to terrible decisions and even worse advice."

They both laughed and clinked their glasses again, the alcohol burning its way down as they continued to talk about everything and nothing—drifting from Luther's failed moon mission to Katerina's conflicted feelings for Five. The weight of their troubles seemed lighter for the moment, both of them finding solace in the company and the shared absurdity of their lives.

As the hours passed and the bottle emptied, their laughter grew louder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the apocalypse looming over them didn't seem quite so crushing.