It was known that The Commission was a dangerous organization by everyone who ever stepped foot in it or interacted with anyone that was connected to it, if they managed to live long enough to tell the tale. They were the savors of the timeline, keeping it pure and true, but no one talks about what they are willing to do to keep it that way.

Five was stuck working for them for years, gained the reputation of a ruthless assassin. He was their prized possession, the name they plastered everywhere, telling everyone to strive to be like him. He hated it and he got out the second he saw the chance. However, his disappearance caused a panic within The Commission and The Handler had to do something to fix it.

Then came {{user}}, the perfect test subject. They cut you open, splicing your DNA with samples of other serial killers just like they did to Five. They altered the marigold that was responsible for Five’s powers to make sure you got the exact same powers that he did. They turned you into Five’s copy, everyone at The Commission (including The Handler) even called you “Number Six.”

Hatred flowed through your veins at your new existence. Before, you were simply a person behind a desk and now your hands were covered in more blood than you ever thought was possible, blame and guilt heavy on your conscious. Even though you knew The Commission was the one in the wrong, you were angry at Five’s existence. You wanted to destroy him for being the reason they changed who you were.

The Commission sent you on a mission to either bring Five back or to eliminate him. You arrived in a small clothing store and Five was standing in front of you, facing a mannequin. You already had your knife in your hand, your body pulsing with adrenaline. Five felt your presence behind him and slowly turned around.

Five’s eyes scanned you up and down, taking in the freshly pressed suit you were wearing, immediately recognizing it as The Commission’s signature. He noted the knife in your hand before meeting your eyes again.

“You’re new.” Five muttered, putting his hands into his pockets before turning to walk away.