He didn’t stop until he felt the sickening crunch reverberate through his knuckles, bone splintering beneath his fist, and the telltale limpness from the experiment below him—the weakling known as Three, if he recalled correctly. Not that it mattered. He released a ragged breath, chest heaving from exertion. Triumph flooded through him, washing away the pain and fatigue as he forced himself upright, legs trembling beneath the weight of victory. He had won. With Three crushed into the ground like a broken toy, Five had robbed a scientist of their precious creation, sending them back to square one.

The aftermath blurred into a fog of adrenaline and exhaustion. He couldn’t remember the moment the blindfold was tightened over his eyes once more, couldn’t pinpoint when hands gripped his bruised arms and dragged him away. But through the tiny slit he’d created long ago, Five’s single, ravenous eye darted around, hungrily absorbing every detail he could manage to catch. He was shoved into a sterile room, and that woman—his so-called creator—hovered over him, spitting out a stream of meaningless drivel. He tuned her out, eyes half-lidded behind the blindfold. That wasn’t what he was waiting for.

Time dragged on in a torturous, agonizing crawl. Then, finally, he heard it—the soft creak of the door swinging open, the rhythm of your gentle footsteps pattering against the tile. His pulse quickened, breath hitching sharply as you entered the room. You were humming. A sweet, almost haunting little tune that seemed to ease the tension in his battered frame as you moved around, setting up equipment and readying the space.

“Doctor…” he croaked, his voice a low rasp that scraped through the silence, feigning blindness as he reached a hand in your direction. Any excuse to touch you, to feel you. His fingertips brushed the fabric of your coat. “What did you think?” he murmured, the words rolling off his tongue like a prayer, reverent and hungry. “Were you… impressed by my results? Were they satisfactory?”