The weight of Dallas pressed down on them like a slow, suffocating fog. Time was unraveling faster than any of them could grasp, and Zero felt the pulse of that unraveling with every breath he took.
The streets held whispers—fragments of futures yet to come, echoes of choices still unmade. Somewhere in the city, the gears of history were grinding toward a moment that would change everything.
Zero walked beside Five, their steps silent as they moved through crowds unaware of the storm approaching. Five's eyes flicked nervously, darting from face to face, searching for threats only he seemed to recognize.
"We're running out of time," Five muttered. "The Handler's closing in, and every second we waste brings us closer to disaster."
Zero nodded. (I know. I feel it too. Time's breath is shallow, and the end is coming faster than we want to admit.)
They paused in a darkened alley where Zero pulled from his coat a worn notebook, pages filled with cryptic notes and sketches. Five leaned in, eyes sharp.
"This is what I've gathered," Zero said, pointing to a cluster of dates and names. "The assassination isn't just a moment in history—it's a pivot point. A fracture that, if left unchecked, will tear the timeline apart."
Five's jaw tightened. "Then we have to stop it. No matter the cost."
Zero's mind flickered with possibilities—paths they could take, traps they could fall into. (There's no guarantee that stopping this will fix anything. Sometimes, time fights back harder when you try to bend it.)
Meanwhile, the others struggled with their own demons.
Luther paced the cramped apartment, muscles taut and eyes haunted by doubt. "We're out of our depth," he admitted, voice raw. "Every choice we make feels like a gamble with the world's life on the line."
Allison sat quietly, cradling her daughter, her powers flaring with a desperate intensity. "We have to believe we can change things," she said softly. "Because if we don't, who will?"
Diego sharpened his knives in the corner, silent but watchful, ready to fight whatever came their way. Klaus, still haunted by visions, drifted near the window, whispering to ghosts only he could see.
And Vanya—she sat alone with her violin, fingers trembling over the strings, trying to control the power that threatened to consume her.
Zero watched them all, feeling the fragile threads of their unity fray.
(They're scared. So am I. But fear can break us, or it can make us stronger.)
The Handler was no stranger to these fears. She moved like a shadow through the city, pulling strings, setting traps, always one step ahead.
Zero had seen her before—in countless futures where she was the architect of destruction.
Tonight, she was hunting.
Five barely escaped her grasp, slipping through her fingers like smoke.
Zero barely managed to slow time enough to distract her long enough for Five to vanish.
(Every encounter chips away at the timeline's integrity. But we can't stop now.)
The siblings reunited briefly in a hidden safehouse, tension thick as they planned their next move.
Zero stepped forward, voice steady.
"We have to work together," he urged. "Not as broken pieces, but as a whole. The timeline demands it."
Luther's glare was sharp. "Easy to say when you're not the one carrying the weight of your mistakes."
Zero met his eyes. "I carry my mistakes every day. But hiding won't fix this."
Vanya looked up, eyes weary but determined.
"What if I'm the problem?" she whispered. "What if my power is what breaks everything?"
Zero reached out, placing a hand over hers.
"You're not the problem," he said firmly. "You're part of the solution."
For a moment, the room was silent. Then Klaus chuckled darkly.
"Well, this family's certainly good at breaking things," he said.
A small, bitter laugh passed around the room.
But beneath the tension, something shifted—a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, they could rewrite the story.
The night deepened.
Outside, the city was alive with danger and uncertainty.
Zero looked up at the stars, feeling the weight of time pressing down.
(We're racing toward a moment none of us can fully control. But I won't let it end like the others. Not if I can help it.)
He clenched his fists, feeling the pulse of his power beneath his skin.
One day left to hold back the end.
One chance to save them all.