❝ oh, you haven't heard? damaged people thrive when side by side. ❞
in which the amateur magician and the intense vigilante cross paths far too many times.
BOOK ONE IN THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY SERIES
SABRINA NILSSON STAND ALONE
UMBRELLA ACADEMY SEASON 1...
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EIGHTEEN; GETAWAY DRIVER AND A CONVERSATION WITH A PAINTING
Sabrina tapped her fingers anxiously against the steering wheel of her car. She was tucked in an alleyway a few streets down from a large, creepy warehouse, with no streetlights or indication of movement. She didn't really like the dark. It reminded her too much of home. She preferred the light of day compared to the haunting night. It seemed Diego was the opposite.
There was a tennis ball in her right hand that she had found behind her bed, which she tossed up and down while waiting for the time to pass. God, she was bored. She wished Diego could hurry the hell up so that she could go home and sleep. It was nearing three in the morning, and she had shifts at both her jobs in the next twelve hours. She couldn't even listen to music, as it could give away her position.
She had driven Diego's car multiple times now, but she didn't like the way it turned corners, so she chose to use her own. The black Volkswagen Beetle was nifty and hardly suspicious, though it did cramp her vigilante friend's style a bit.
"On my way," the walkie talkie on the dashboard buzzed, and Sabrina grabbed it and threw it in the backseat, before preparing to start the car. She tapped her foot a couple of times impatiently and yawned, then noticing a silhouette in the distance. She sat up a little straighter and turned the key, bringing the vehicle to life. She squinted a little as the figure grew closer and proceeded to split in two.
"What the hell?" she muttered, moving the gear stick and getting ready to speed off. She observed carefully, her eyes widening as one of the bodies collapsed to the ground. She turned the headlights on and leaned forward, spotting a glinting silver knife sticking out of their back. She swallowed anxiously and jumped a little as the passenger door was thrown open. She hardly looked to her side as she hit the pedal with her slipper-clad foot, sending the car speeding down the road. "Why can't you just tackle people?"
"Knives are a whole lot easier," Diego looked out the window as the building became dark blurs of paint swiped across a canvas. Sabrina turned corners easily and sunk a little in her seat once she turned onto a road with streetlight. She felt a little more comfortable being able to see where she was going. There were cars around now; cars filled with people who had no idea what they had just carried out. "Are we going back to yours or mine?"
"Mine," Sabrina muttered, looking in her wing mirror before changing lanes. "I left the television on for Gary."
Diego smiled softly and looked back into the hazy colours of the night, feeling a little more at peace by the woman's side. He reached for the volume knob and started fiddling with the music. They had gotten used to this routine over the last two weeks, but while Diego was worried more about the safety of his closest friend, Sabrina was concerned about the idea that she had to work a total of twelve hours that day, and she had little to no energy.
Oh, and the fact that Reginald Hargreeves still wasn't dead yet, despite what he had told her.
