RUN BOY RUN- reader x Five Hargreeves

Part Fifty-Five

The Sparrow Academy erupted into chaos, the air thick with tension and the metallic tang of impending violence. Luther's punch cut through the air, a desperate attempt that missed its target by mere inches. His vulnerability was immediate and costly. The Sparrow Academy's leader moved with predatory grace, pivoting on the ball of his foot. A devastating kick exploded outward, catching Luther square in the chest. The impact was brutal. Luther's body became a human missile, careening across the room in a tangle of limbs and shock. He crashed into Klaus with a sickening thud that reverberated through the room, bodies intertwining in a painful heap of groans and disbelief. I started to move, instinct driving me forward to help. But a girl with long, flowing brown hair materialized before me, her stance a perfect blend of defensive readiness and coiled potential. The world seemed to narrow to the space between us, charged with electric anticipation. "Look, to be fair," I began, my voice surprisingly steady despite the chaos surrounding us, "I'm a bit rusty on my fighting skills." The words had barely left my mouth when her fist became a blur of motion. Pain exploded across my cheekbone. My head snapped back, stars bursting behind my eyes. The punch was so precise, so calculated that for a moment, I could only taste the copper of blood spreading across my lip. But muscle memory is a powerful thing. I wiped the blood away, a sardonic smile cutting through the pain.

"But still," I muttered, more to myself than to her, "you never forget how to ride a bike." My first swing was deliberate, an arc designed to test her reflexes. She blocked it with mechanical precision, her movement fluid as water. But I had a second move prepared. My other hand shot forward, driving into her stomach with a force that would have dropped most opponents. She was not most opponents. In a heartbeat, she grabbed my wrist, using my own momentum against me. The world spun, and suddenly I was airborne, flipping over her back and crashing to the floor in a bone-jarring impact that knocked the wind from my lungs. Pushing myself up, lungs burning, I couldn't help but laugh. The absurdity of the moment cut through the violence. "You seem like a really nice person," I said, watching her with a mixture of respect and wariness. Across the room, the battle continued its brutal dance. Five was locked in combat with Ben – or whatever version of Ben this was. The sight was surreal, a nightmare version of a family reunion. Ben's chest opened in a movement that would haunt my dreams, a tentacle erupting from within like something from the darkest depths of imagination.

Five, however, was prepared. He blinked upstairs in a flash of blue energy, barely avoiding the nightmarish appendage. "You know, even though you're a total asshat now," I called out, jumping onto the table with a determination born of years of chaos, "it's good to see you." The words hung in the air, a moment of bizarre normalcy in the middle of complete destruction. My focus shifted. A groan escaped me as I launched myself onto Ben's back, wrapping my legs around his neck in a choking grip that spoke of desperation and years of complicated family history. Five blinked down beside me, that familiar smirk playing on his lips – part sardonic, part affectionate. "Man, what happened to him?" Five asked, his voice a mix of confusion and something deeper – loss, perhaps. "I don't remember him being such a-" "Asshat?" I finished, raising an eyebrow that spoke volumes about our shared history. Five's laugh was brief, a sharp sound that cut through the tension. But the moment was fleeting. Diego's voice erupted, a furious shout that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house.

"He's going to fall," I panicked, my eyes darting around the room. "Or worse, puke," Five sassed, because even in the middle of a fight for survival, his dark humor remained unchanged. And right on cue Diego starts to slip. And then he flies offs. I used my abilities to gently place him on the second-floor balcony, the movement careful and protective despite the chaos erupting around us. The house seemed to groan under the weight of our conflict, wooden beams creaking, plaster dust raining down like silent witnesses to our family's perpetual war. "Who's next?" Five asked, his eyes scanning the room with the calculation of a seasoned time traveler trapped in a child's body. "Who have we yet to meet?" I questioned back, the words barely leaving my mouth before a thunderous crash split the air. In the entryway, Allison was locked in combat with a man who looked less than human – a grotesque figure resembling Tupperware left too long in a furnace. His form was melted, distorted, a nightmare of humanity that seemed to defy natural law.

The bird girl stood frozen, another opponent watching from the sidelines with predatory patience. I wasn't about to let Allison fight alone. Using my telekinetic abilities, I grabbed a vase from a nearby table. The ceramic sang through the air, a weapon of opportunity, and crashed down on the long-haired girl's head with surgical precision. She crumpled like a marionette with cut strings. Turning to the melted man, I used my powers to throw him against the wall. The impact was thunderous, making the entire house shake as if it were a living thing experiencing pain. Allison looked at me, her expression a complex mixture of gratitude, annoyance, and something deeper – the unbreakable bond of siblings who had survived the impossible. "I was-" she started, her voice cutting through the ringing silence. "Getting your ass beaten by a melted candle? Yeah, I know," I interrupted, my tone a blend of sass and protection. "Now come on, let's get Vanya and get the hell out of this place."

The race was on, a desperate sprint through a battleground of family and chaos, each step bringing us closer to escape or destruction. I raced upstairs, the wooden steps groaning beneath my feet, each footfall a desperate punctuation to our ongoing battle. The second floor was a war zone of broken memories and fractured family dynamics. Five was locked in a brutal dance with a long-haired woman whose movements were as sharp and unpredictable as a live wire. Her eyes blazed with a fury that seemed to transcend the immediate conflict – this was personal, decades of complicated history compressed into every violent movement. Five matched her blow for blow, his smaller frame a blur of calculated precision. Without hesitation, I kicked her legs out from under her. The move was pure Diego – a brutal efficiency born of years of training and survival. I slammed her head into my knee, feeling the impact reverberate through my body. A telekinetic throw sent her sailing over the balcony, her body describing a perfect arc of defeat.

But something was wrong with Five. The victory seemed to drain away, leaving something raw and vulnerable. He was staring at an empty space, tears forming in eyes that had seen too much, lived too many lifetimes. The room seemed to contract around him, memories pressing in from unseen dimensions. I snapped my fingers in front of his face, desperate to pull him back to the present. "Five? You okay?" His hands reached out, grabbing my cheeks with a trembling intensity that stopped my breath. "Do you know how much I love you?" The words were a broken whisper, laden with years of loss, of time traveled and time stolen. "Umm," I responded, trying to maintain focus despite the emotional tsunami, "you can tell me as soon as we get out of this house." We made it to the top of the stairs, a momentary reprieve that lasted exactly milliseconds. The long-haired woman – apparently possessing a resilience that bordered on supernatural – returned. Her kick was a lightning strike, sending Five tumbling down the stairs in a sickening cascade of limbs and momentum.

Rage consumed me. Pure, white-hot fury that transcended rational thought. I slammed her into the wall, my fists becoming instruments of vengeance. Punch after punch rained down until she collapsed, unconscious and broken. In the library below, the Sparrow Academy's leader stood over Luther, each stomp of his boot a statement of dominance, of complete and utter destruction. "Vanya!" I screamed, my voice cracking with desperation. "We could really use you!" But Vanya was already in trouble. Sloan had her in an unbreakable grip, another player in this impossible game of supernatural chess. I managed to catch Vanya before she hit the ground, her body light and fragile in my arms.

"Okay," A sparrow said, their  voice tight with controlled panic, "someone needs to get that little one. She's strong." The bird girl's response was immediate. "Trust me, I got it." Those words became a harbinger of chaos. An army of birds filled the hallway, a living weapon that defied natural law. I loose focus on Vanya causing to fall on the floor. Luther, Allison, and I found ourselves running, our escape becoming a frantic dance between survival and certain destruction. "Wait," I suddenly panicked, the thought of leaving Five behind causing my heart to seize. "Where's Five?" The birds slammed into the wooden door we currently hiding behind with a fury that seemed almost sentient. Beaks and wings created a thunderous assault that made escape feel like an impossible dream. "You know what?" I said, grabbing Luther and Allison, my voice a mixture of resignation and defiance. "They can find us after. Let's just get the hell out of this place."