THE BEAST ─ five hargreeves

[ 013 ] here, have some cyanideーoops

XIII.

h e r e ,   h a v e   s o m e
c y a n i d e — o o p s

—DIEGO DID NOT appreciate being woken up by two pubescent teenagers yelling at each other in the middle of the night.

He might have been the most celebrated vigilante of the East Coast, but the man still needed his beauty sleep. Suffice to say, eye bags did not pair well with that devilishly handsome Hispanic bone structure.

So he pulled himself out of bed, soundless as a wildcat, and strapped a couple extra knives to the waistband of his spandex tights. It was a good thing Diego slept in full emo-spy attire.

One could never be too prepared when it came to enforcing the law. Diego Hargreeves was that rare breed of man who served justice for breakfast and anarchy for dinner.

Five's voice—irritatingly obnoxious, as always—was coming from downstairs, and he was arguing with a girl who spoke with some obscure accent that was impossible to place. British, maybe?

Diego made his way out the hallway and downstairs to the lavishly furnished living room.

He was met with the sight of Klaus, dressed in only a pair of tiger-print underwear and a pink feather boa, lounging on the couch with knitting needles and a ball of yarn. There was a girl dressed in a roughed-up Umbrella Academy uniform storming into the place behind Five, who looked significantly grouchier than usual.

"So, Five," Klaus asked when he looked up from his needlework, "How'd the date go? Is she your girlfriend, yet?"

The stranger scoffed, "Girlfriend? I would rather chew off my own foot."

"I don't get it, Zara," Five shot her a glare. "Why are you mad at me for saving your life? And—you know what?—I still haven't gotten a 'thank you'."

He paced around the room with his trademark slouch. The girl—Zara, was it?—plopped down next to Klaus on the sofa, not even throwing a glance in Diego's direction.

She had sort of a nervous air to her, and Diego immediately decided she was hiding something.

"You shouldn't have done it. But, thank you," Zara gritted out.

She had this rather intense gaze, and brows creased in pessimistic thought, and a vicious gash tracing up the side of her forearm, and—

Wait a second.

Were those his Skechers?

"That's a really pathetic 'thank you'," muttered Five.

"Is that so?" Zara snapped, "Well, screw you!"

"I'm sure you'd love to."

The girl crossed her arms angrily, "You're a pompous little gremlin, aren't you?"

Five rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Let's not forget you called me hot at the restaurant."

"Why, Five," said Klaus, "I had no idea you were such a cad. Making up for missed time with the ladies, aren't we?"

No one paid him any attention. Not even Diego, who was debating whether or not to investigate the sound of marmalade jars being cracked open in the pantry and someone singing O Canada at the top of their lungs.