THE BEAST ─ five hargreeves

[ 019 ] zara cosplays as her talking parrot

XIX.

z a r a   c o s p l a y s    a s
h e r   t a l k i n g   p a r r o t

—IT WAS EXACTLY three minutes past midnight, and Zara still could not say for certain whether or not Five had returned.

He would've come back to the Umbrella Academy, right? Maybe he'd slipped in unnoticed. Yes, that was it. Five was probably just moping about in a corner and wrestling with his fairly obvious sense of self loathing.

Or something like that.

Zara wandered around the house for a little while before stopping in Five's bedroom. She opened the window and climbed out onto the metal fire escape.

It was very late at night, and the moon came up and lit up the alleyway beneath her with a strange glow. A pigeon cooed, and Kiki mimicked it perfectly from Zara's shoulder. The pigeon wandered into the alley to look for whoever had answered.

Kiki was delighted. She flew from corner to corner, cooing softly. The pigeon was astonished at hearing what seemed to be a whole host of pigeons all over the street, calling first from one place and then another.

There was a noise from the alley, and Zara glanced down below her.

Hazel and Cha-Cha stood next to the dumpster, brightly coloured masks tilted up to glare at her. They were dressed in crisp tuxedos and holding military rifles, their forms barely visible in the dim light of streetlamps. Zara climbed down the metal ladder.

"Lovely night, isn't it, Hazel?" she greeted him before throwing a glance at his partner, "I see you've brought Cha-Cha. No wonder all the birds stopped singing."

Hazel chuckled, before quickly covering up his laughter with an awkward cough when the woman in the pink dog mask kicked him pointedly in the shin.

"Is the kid in there?" Cha-Cha asked, removing her mask to reveal a deep frown.

"I'm not sure," admitted Zara, "Five said he would be back, but I haven't seen him yet. Probably making out with his mannequin wife in a broom closet or something."

"His . . . what? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know. I wish I didn't know, either."

"Whatever, whatever," Cha-Cha said, running a hand through straight, cropped brown hair. She had a rather efficient haircut, Zara noted. It was the only thing about Cha-Cha that distinguished her from a talking raisin. "Hazel and I heard that you and your target have been getting cozy."

Zara crossed her arms defensively, not liking the turn this conversation was taking.

"It was one hug!" she said firmly, "A perfectly platonic gesture. Besides, how do you even know that?"

"The Commission has eyes everywhere."

"So much time with your ear to the pavement, it's a pity a truck hasn't run over your head."

"Curb your sarcasm, maggot," The woman dug around in her attaché case before pulling out a shiny pistol and passing it to Zara.

Zara leaned against the metal dumpster as she examined the weapon.

It was a silly little thing, small and silver with a pearl handle—like the sort of gun that Barbie might bring to war just so she could wave it around in people's faces like the pretentious bimbo she was.

Zara frowned, "You want me to commit homicide with this? Is it even a real gun, or did you buy it from Toys 'R' Us?"

"If you have a problem," Hazel muttered, sore about the subject for some reason, "take it up with your mother. She's the one who keeps cutting our budget. My physical therapist isn't even covered by insurance. You don't hear me complaining."