MONACHOPSIS- V. Hargreeves ³

018. CHEATING THE SYSTEM.

It was like a haunted house, an abandoned building only stupid people and horror movie protagonists would dare explore. It was the place you came to die.

And Nadine was going to die.

Sparrow Academy or no Sparrow Academy, there was no way this kugelblitz would be defeated. It was too powerful, too strong, swollen with hunger. It was a rabid animal, frothing at the mouth, aching for blood—get in front of it, and all you receive for your efforts is a bite. After all, you are the only thing standing between it and what it most desires. And it will not let you be the thing that stops it.

So, she was starting to accept her fate. This was it, this was the baddie she couldn't beat. This was the time every near-death experience would catch up to her and finally consume her completely. This would be what swept her away.

She was still scared—terrified, really, shaken to the core—but resigned, too. If she was going to die—and not just die, completely cease to exist, crumbling away like the seeds of a dandelion in the wind—maybe it would be peaceful. Maybe it wouldn't hurt. Maybe it would feel like release, like the exhale of a breath you'd been holding for far too long. Maybe it would be better this way.

The only thing she wished she could do with her death, though, was help Harlan. At least it would mean something, then, even if Harlan died in the end anyway. At least she could say she'd done one good thing in her life, something more than swinging her fists. At least she could die for what she believed in.

But that wasn't happening. She'd tried, but she'd failed. Harlan was going to die, and the universe was going to end, anyway, and it wouldn't fucking matter. And Nadine would disappear knowing that the last thing she'd ever done was lose.

She was aware she was wallowing in her own self-pity, but she couldn't help herself. She was miserable. She'd been nothing but miserable since the moment she'd dropped into this wrong timeline. Oh, she'd hated the '60s, too, but at least she'd had Molly. Now, she had nothing.

She could've spent hours here, drowning in her own mind, if not for the arrival of Klaus. He ambled toward her from the bar, bottle in hand, and her first instinct was to wince, knowing that her friend had likely fallen into a relapse. Then she realized that in the end, it wouldn't really matter.

Klaus sank down into the seat beside her and set his bottle down. "Chosen One," he greeted. "You're looking awfully lonely over here."

"I'm not lonely," Nadine said, crossing her arms. "I'm just... lost in thought."

"Yeah, well, judging by the look on your face, I doubt it's the good kind of lost in thought. It's no fun when you're sober. You think about taxes and breakups instead of what animal will rule the world after humans or whether or not the Moon's made of cheese. Hey, you know, I just realized I never asked Luther that. He was there for four years—he's got to know!"

"The Moon isn't made of cheese," Nadine said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I saw a Moon rock inches away from my face before the world ended for the first time, for one."

"Oh, right. So, maybe it isn't cheese."

"Wow."

Klaus breathed out a sigh. "Okay. Um, I think we all know that I'm probably the worst person ever when it comes to comforting people. I mean, most of the time, I either sit there awkwardly or end up dragging them into a situation even worse than the one that got them upset in the first place. But you're one of my best friends now—and probably my only friend that isn't homeless, my sibling, or a dealer—so I'm at least going to try."