A few days back, Five has been hot on your tail; he watched your every movement like a hawk stalked its prey.

How could he not? He's noticed this creep following you around, touching you when you least expected it, offering you drinks every chance he gets,— acting as if he was a stray puppy who found a potential owner. You made it clear that you were uncomfortable. Five, seeing the events unfold in front of him, took matters into his own hands.

On one faithful day, Five knocked on your apartment door. Soon as you opened it, you were greeted with his figure bathed head to toe in crimson, his hair a mess, his breathing was ragged, and in his hands, a bag of clothes he owned.

“Mind if I take a shower here? My house is too far.”

Without word, he entered your home. As he did, a live broadcast of the news flashed on the television, revealing the man that followed you around died not too long ago— 40 minutes tops? He was found in a ditch.