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CHAPTER THIRTY food for worms
⋆*✧･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:
IN AN INSTANT, a thousand enemies appeared, materializing with a whoosh and a flash of blue light. All of them were dressed in immaculate suits, carrying briefcases in one hand and rifles in the other. A good chunk of them also wore masks—kiddish cartoon masks, like the ones Hazel and Cha-Cha (pink dog, blue bear) had worn when they'd shot Nadine in the shoulder. There were so many of them. Every time Nadine thought they'd finished appearing, another bunch flickered into view. In just ten seconds, what had previously been an unfair fight for The Handler—seven against two—had become even more unfair. Unfortunately, this time it was the Umbrella Academy that was outnumbered.
Nadine's breath hitched in her throat, and she raised her hands, terror pulsing through her. No. It was supposed to be over. She'd... she'd saved the world, which meant that she should've been safe. When she'd agreed to come with Vanya to help Harlan, she hadn't, not even in her wildest speculations, expected she'd ever be dragged into such danger again. And yet, here she was, in potentially the riskiest scenario she'd managed to find herself in.
And Molly...
Molly was going to be so upset.
A chorus of firearms cocked, preparing themselves to pump the Umbrella Academy full of bullets. Five let out a shaky exhale. For once, even he was flustered.
"So what do we do now?" Diego asked. His voice was calm, but Nadine could tell that he, too, was panicked. This was... this was hopeless. Thousands and thousands of guns were pointed at their faces—there was no way they'd ever manage to get out of this unscathed.
When Nadine closed her eyes, a tear slid down her cheek. Ever since Hazel and Cha-Cha had first attacked her, she'd been afraid that this would be how she'd die. And now, it seemed she'd survived the end of the world only to be ended in the worst way possible.
"Well, we got two choices: fight and die now or run and die later," said Five, comforting as always. "Either way, we're food for worms."
"Preference?"
"Wouldn't mind a few more minutes breathing air through the old windbags."
"All right," The Handler interrupted, checking her watch. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
She pulled out a red handkerchief. That one square of red fabric was all that stood between life and death. When it hit the ground, Nadine would die. Five would die. Diego would die. The others—Vanya, Klaus, Allison and Luther—would die later.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. I will end you, she vowed, glaring into The Handler's eyes. If I die here, I won't let you go. I will follow you to the ends of the fucking Earth if it means that I get to see the look on your face when your life comes to an end.
