❝ 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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ZERO; NOT THE FIRST INTERACTION, CERTAINLY NOT THE LAST
Sabrina hated the fact that she couldn't do anything about the blister on her heel. Instead, she stood with one foot rubbing against the other, as if that would calm the throbbing. She was praying the curator wouldn't catch her standing idly, so she pretended to stare over the practically empty room and see if anyone needed any help.
She knew she should've worn thick socks with her boots, but due to the fact that she had overslept that morning, she grabbed the first pair she saw and hoped for the best. She did not get the best.
"Good evening, everyone. We would like to inform you that the museum will be closing in ten minutes. If you would like to conclude your viewing or would like to organise a time to return, feel free to approach one of our many guides, who would be more than happy to help."
It was one of the best feelings to hear the voice over the speakers at the end of a long shift. Though Sabrina loved her job and the history associated with it, she couldn't wait to get out of the artificially lit building and into her artificially lit apartment building where she could get some sleep.
"Excuse me, ma'am, I have a question," someone broke the woman out of her trance, and she forced a bright customer service smile as she met the eyes of a pasty, green eyed man. She felt a twitch in her fingers, a strange feeling running through her body. The room she was looking after was now void of people besides herself and the man, which continued to set off warning bells.
Uh oh.
"How can I help you?" she inquired, trying not to cringe at her change of tone. It was like she became a different person when talking to people during her job.
The man didn't respond. Instead, he darted forward and grabbed Sabrina by the wrist, tugging her forward and pulling her so that her back hit his right shoulder. The woman's eyes widened once she felt some kind of cold metal poke at her waist, and she looked down to see a gun -- a glock of some sort twisting into her cotton shirt. "Where's the Vermeer painting?"
All of a sudden, the bright white lights shut off in the room and was replaced by a bright, flashing red siren. Clearly, it had been caught on the cameras. Not the smartest of criminals, Sabrina had to admit.
"You picked the wrong room, pal," she responded quickly, only to wince as the gun was pushed further into her waist. If he pulled any kind of bullshit she'd be pissed, considering her shirt was white. Her ears perked, she could hear footsteps growing louder from down the hall, probably the security team coming to help her out. "And the wrong person to try and shoot."
The weapon pushed further.
Sabrina exhaled and shut her eyes, trying to concentrate. A small smirk then appeared on her smooth lips, and she lowered her voice to a whisper. "What's your worst nightmare?"
