[✓] 𝑃𝑅𝐸𝐿𝑈𝐷𝐸 | 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 around seven in the morning the next day. 

His words still a little slurred—whether from sleepiness or his hangover, Valerie wasn't sure—he explained to Luther the same thing he had told her only a few days before: the end of the world was coming. 

Valerie was sitting next to Five on the bed, picking at the strings of the blanket. His recount soon came to an end, and, as expected, it had left the larger man dumbfounded. 

Luther, sat in a chair that he had pulled up in front of the bed, stared at his brother for a moment. His hands clasped. 

"When's it supposed to happen? This . . . apocalypse."

"I can't give you the exact hour, but . . ." Five, his elbows rested on his knees, moved his lowered eyes up to the man. "From what I could gather, we have four days left."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"It wouldn't have mattered," answered Five with a sigh.

"Of course it would," Luther insisted angrily, his forehead creased. He shifted forward in his spot. "We could've banded together, and helped you try to stop this thing."

"For the record," Five said solemnly, "you already tried."

"What do you mean?" Luther's expression softened, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows.

Five was silent for a moment, his gaze lowered as he thought to himself. He chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds before he quietly admitted, "I found all of you . . . Your bodies."

Luther's voice was soft with shock, "We die?" 

Five gradually looked up at him, swallowing before giving a curt nod. "Horribly." His eyes moistened, and he paused for a moment before flicking his eyes over the room. "You were together, trying to stop whoever it was that ends the world."

Luther was about to say something when he suddenly paused, pressing his lips together. A look of confusion crossed his expression as he scrunched his nose. "Wait, how do you know that?"

Five pulled out the glass eyeball from the pocket of his blazer and tossed it to Luther, who caught it and began to examine it. "This was clutched in your dead hand when I found you. Must've ripped it out of their head right before you went down."

Luther studied the eye for a moment before turning his gaze to Five. "Whose head?"

"Like I said" —Five shrugged— "I don't know."

Luther turned the eyeball over, his eyes squinted as he read the printed number on the back of it. "Well, there's a serial number on the back. Think maybe you could try—"

"No, that's a dead-end," Valerie cut him off, letting out a small sigh as she shook her head. "That was the lead I was talking about before."

Five chuckled, though the laugh lacked humour. "It's just another hunk of glass."

Interrupting their conversation, the door flung open. Their attentions drew there to see Diego, who now had growing fury in every step as he stormed over to them, his eyes hardened as they set upon Five.

"Piece of shit," he muttered as he marched his way over to them. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

He was about to charge towards Five when Luther stopped him, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him into the air.

Diego kicked at his legs and pulled his arms but remained unsuccessful as he wriggled and squirmed. Angrily, he shouted, "Let go of me, you ape!"

"Not until you calm down," Luther said rigidly, his grip around him only tightening with every kick and jab. "I could do this as long as I need to."