Chapter 4: Five’s Disappearance

[Third Person's PoV] 

A few weeks later…

Everyone was quietly eating their breakfast, but despite the outward silence, 8 had connected all their minds with his psychic abilities, allowing their thoughts to flow freely among them.

*'Why even do it, 5? You know Father is going to say no, save your breath,'* 2 said, his tone dripping with skepticism.

*'Yeah, 5, it's just a waste of time,'* 3 added, agreeing with 2.

*'Why can't we eat our food normally?'* 1 mumbled, clearly annoyed by the constant mental chatter.

*'What about us is exactly normal?'* 4 interjected, casting a sidelong glance at 1.

*'8, you're with me on this, right? The old man may be stubborn, but I'm even more so,'* 5 scoffed, his defiance clear.

*'I'm actually with the old man on this…'* 

Everyone stopped eating, their movements freezing in place as they all slowly turned to stare at 8, their shock palpable.

*'An apocalypse must be upon us,'* 3 scoffed in amusement, breaking the tension.

*'8 agrees with our dad. It truly must be the end of the world,'* 2 added, his voice tinged with disbelief.

*'What the hell do you mean you agree with the old man?'* 5 asked, his brow furrowed in frustration.

*'What I mean is that messing with time is an extremely dangerous matter. It never ends well for anyone,'* 8 responded with a heavy sigh, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

*'Oh, so it's okay for you to challenge the old man in his stubbornness, but when I do it, it's a problem?'* 5 scoffed, his irritation mounting.

*'Hey, dumbass, you're comparing me flying next to a car to your wish to travel through something as unpredictable and malleable as time,'* 8 snapped back, his glare sharp.

The tension in the room was thick as 5 turned abruptly, turning his attention to their father. "Hey, old man, I think it's time I begin my training in traveling through time."

All of them groaned in unison, the frustration with 5's persistence evident.

"We already had this discussion, 5. You aren't ready," Reginald said, his tone flat and bored, clearly weary of the repetitive arguments.

"Like hell I am!" 5 shouted, slamming his utensils on the table in a burst of anger. He grabbed the napkin from his lap and threw it onto the table before storming out of the room.

"Number 5, sit back down! Get back here, young man," Reginald demanded, his voice commanding and authoritative.

"Shit, I'm getting a bad feeling," 8 muttered under his breath as he quickly stood up, sensing the dangerous escalation. Without hesitation, he chased after 5, 

"5, wait!" 8 shouted, racing after him.

"What, you want to stop me too?" 5 shot back, his irritation clear.

"I'm getting a bad feeling. Never underestimate the feelings of a psychic. If I'm telling you something is wrong, it's because something is wrong," 8 warned, his voice firm.

"You and the old man couldn't stop me even if you tried. I understand my powers better than anyone," 5 said, turning away. He blinked out of sight, leaving 8 to click his tongue in frustration as his eyes glowed slightly. "That stubborn dumbass," 8 muttered.

Meanwhile, 5 blinked into a different time period, a smirk forming on his face as he took in his surroundings. "Not ready, my ass," he scoffed, blinking again.

This time, he appeared on a snowy sidewalk. He mocked 8's warning in his mind, "'Never underestimate the feelings of a psychic.' What a joke."

But as he blinked again, 5 suddenly froze in place, confusion overtaking him. The scene before him was like nothing he'd ever seen. Everything was destroyed—fire raged everywhere, illuminating the night in an eerie glow. The once-familiar cityscape was reduced to ashes and rubble, the wind carrying remnants of what once was. He looked up and saw the moon, or rather, what was left of it—a giant chunk appeared to have been ripped out, leaving the sky looking incomplete and ominous.

There were no people, no signs of life—just desolation. 5 noticed a newspaper lying among the rubble. He picked it up, reading the fine print: *An Apocalypse*.

Scoffing, 5 muttered, "Man, I guess 8 agreeing with the old man really did cause an apocalypse… I better head back and warn the others." His hands began to glow with blue light as he tried to blink back to his time, but nothing happened. Confused, he tried again, but still, his powers only made his hands glow.

Panicking now, 5 ran through the rubble, searching for any familiar landmark. He found the remnants of his home, the gate barely standing, on the verge of collapse. "Shit…" he cursed under his breath.

"I told you not to underestimate the feelings of a psychic, but no, the boy in shorts thought he knew better," a voice called out.

5 whipped around in shock, his eyes widening as he saw the floating head of a handsome teenage boy with fiery red hair and striking green eyes.

"8?" 5 asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Damn, it's been that long, huh? We don't go by numbers anymore; we have our own names now," the boy—8—responded, his tone casual but laced with sadness.

"What? What is going on? What happened?" 5 demanded, his confusion mounting.

"The hell if I know. Look, I'll tell you how things went from my perspective. As you blinked to the future, I sent a mental imprint into your mind so I could find you. I developed my telepathic abilities to send my consciousness through time. I came from the moment I first left that mental imprint in your mind, and my consciousness flowed through time."

"What?" 5 asked, his mind reeling.

"Time stuff—it's complicated. The consciousness you're seeing right now is me at 17 years old. You've been gone for 7 years, at least from my perspective."

"Seven years? But I haven't been gone for more than a minute!" 5 exclaimed, his breathing growing rapidly as he started to hyperventilate.

"Like I said, time is weird. The consciousness you're seeing now is from the future, but in your perspective of time, I should be walking back to the manor after failing to stop you. I should be throwing a temper tantrum and fighting with Luther and Dad right about now."

"Luther?" 5 asked, latching onto the name.

"Yeah, like I said we stopped using numbers and started going by names. Luther is 1, by the way."

5 sat down in the middle of the destroyed landscape, the weight of what he'd just learned crashing down on him. "So if you haven't seen me until now, that means I'm going to be trapped in this apocalyptic world for 6 years and counting… Well, shit… At least I'm not alone…"

"Yeah, about that… This is my first successful attempt at sending my consciousness to the future. I'm pretty sure I got lucky this time, but I'm already feeling a strong headache. I'm about to disconnect, and my consciousness will return to the present. I don't know when I'll be able to reach you again, much less find you. I was only able to find you this time because of the imprint at the start of the future. So I might appear to you at different ages, with different recent memories and conversations we shared…"

5 ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Well, fuck… Kill me now," he groaned, the reality of his situation sinking in.

He then saw 8's face contort in pain. "Wait, before you leave, you said you all received names. What's yours?"

"Ugh… Nathaniel… and the future is shit, by the way—" Nathaniel grunted as his consciousness was whisked away, leaving 5 alone.

5 smiled sadly, the weight of loneliness pressing down on him as he realized he was now truly alone, with no one but himself in this desolate world.