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Five pulled against his cuffs, his wrists rubbed raw.
The man opened up his surgical blade packet. Carefully popping it into place on the handle, avoiding injury to himself.
The cuffs were slick with blood.
The man poured alcohol onto a cloth, wiping down the area - Luther flinched at the cold feeling, his breaths were rapid.
“Jesus, take me instead!” Diego screamed, his wrists in a similar state. His face was shining with sweat, hands itched for a blade.
The other scientists glared, one grabbing the bloodied and alcohol covered rag to gag him. His eyes watered from the strong smell, his muffled yells reverberated around the room.
Five stared at their faces, at their eyes. He prayed that Diego would keep screaming so they wouldn’t look at him, teeth buried in leather. The taste of his own blood and flesh irrelevant to him as he gritted his teeth and tore into the leather with the only thing he could.
The man looked at his surgical blade, before he tossed it aside in favour of a bone saw. Klaus spluttered, his vomit unable to escape his mouth - it dripped down his face as he tried to do something, anything, to prevent this.
Five ran forwards and grabbed the bone saw, his chest heaving as he could do nothing but decapitate this man. Perhaps he could have grabbed the blade, but he didn’t. He stared at his eyes, and Five laughed.
“I just got them back!” Five growled, the man already bleeding out from his jugular as he continued sawing.
He tossed the blade aside before finishing the decapitation, leaving the doctor's head loosely attached to his body, falling all around with empty eyes as Five shoved his body away and grabbed the scalpel from the table.
“I just got them back,” He repeated, and shoved the scalpel into another scientist’s eye, fiddled it around inside their brain before Five viciously pulled it out by shoving their body away. It hit a metal cabinet, blood dripped from the half empty eye socket.
The other scientist picked up a bat and struck Five across the skull, knocking his head to the side. Five readjusted his grip on the scalpel, before he turned to look the man in the eyes again - now with blood cascading down the side of his head and bruises forming. The scalpel was covered in the blood from the other scientist and Five’s own that dripped down from his torn skin from his wrist.
He tossed the scalpel aside, the carpet absorbed more blood - it is surely stained after this.
“You have no right!” Five scowled, his irises shaky.
He picked up a metal stool there for observations, the man’s eyes tearing up - they widened and narrowed as he pleaded for his life. Five didn’t listen, he only stared.
The stool cracked against the man’s head, the ringing in Five’s ears nothing but white noise to cover up the endless crashes and crunches as the man’s skull was broken into pieces. He didn’t care about the concussion; the doctor’s eyes were slowly turned to mush as Five kept slamming down the stool - he was long dead.
After the final swing, Five fumbled and fell to the ground from the momentum, quickly righting himself excluding the few seconds of confusion.
He picked up the scalpel again, slicing off all the weaker cuffs before he figured out how to free Luther. When the job was done, he turned to walk away before quickly tripped on the slick carpet from his first kill. Once his face met the ground, he resigned to the fact that he would not be getting up anytime soon.
He could tell his family was speaking to him, but it all came out like a mess of words he couldn’t hope to understand.
“Five!” Klaus yelled, but Five could only understand what he said through a strange mixture of hearing and lip-reading.
“Just give me a few minutes,” He grimanced, well aware of his concussion.
“Shit, he definitely has head trauma,” Diego stated the obvious, before he picked Five up in his arms.
“I think I have mental trauma after seeing that!” Klaus exclaimed, looking back at the gore scene left behind, “I’m never going to use a stool again… or a scalpel, or a saw!”
Luther walked besides them, still a bit silent after the event.
“I don’t think you’ll use those last two very often,” Diego taunted, before looking back at Five in concern, “Can you hear me now?”
“Yea, I would rather not,” Five scowled, “I do have a concussion, if I have to remind you.”
Luther observed for a few seconds, “You really do care about us, don’t you?”
“Stop getting all emotional on me, I’m not dying,” Five squinted half in annoyance and half to avoid the influx of light as they stepped outside.
“You tore your wrists raw,” Luther noted, “before apparently tearing through your cuffs with nothing but your teeth.”
Five grunted, looking away from Luther.
“We love you too, you know,” Luther asserted, pushing away some of the hair that fell onto Five’s face after Diego placed him in the back seat of the car.
“...I know,” Five mumbled with half lidded eyes, “I know.”