The Three

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Our Old Friend, Death

In Marigold’s Eyes

And back to the start of the story we are.

It’s been a long run, I gotta say.

I felt my stomach twist as the rush of adrenaline surged through my body one final time, preparing me for the final fall. Preparing me for my death, blah blah blah.

I was dying. So was Samuel. Both of us were sprawled on the floor of Trace’s lair, slowly dying. We had no idea what was wrong with us.

We didn’t know where Trace went.

For a split second, I thought everything would be great. I thought we would save the world together. I thought I finally had people who will appreciate me and accept me for who I am.

Flaws, imperfections, and all.

Not in this story.

I winced, counting down the seconds in which I will slowly descend into the afterlife. I’m waiting for the final straw, clutching on my heart so strong my knuckles turned white.

And this, dear readers, is how I died. Voila. End of story… Or so I thought.

Suddenly, the pain stopped. I can feel my legs again. The oozing pain in my stomach is vanishing slowly but surely.


I’m not dead?

“Are you okay?” Samuel groans beside me, and he already looked much better.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He held his head. “What... What did Mega- Mind mess up so badly that made us almost die like this?”

“I...” I’m lost for words.

Henchman was right in front of us, and immediately sighed a huge sigh of relief. He looked like he was about to cry.

Santa Maria, I thought you both were gone for good.” His lip quivered.

“Henchman,” I say carefully. “do you know anything about this?”

“No!” His eyes widened, then proceeded to laugh nervously. “How would I know? How would I know that boss was probably going to call the deal off since he doesn’t want to hurt you guys anymore?”

Henchman winced, realizing he had spilled everything on accident.

The deal.

Oh my god. Of course.

But... Why risk his life for us? What of importance do we have for him?

Or is he just using us?

Well. I don’t care.

“We should go get him, he’s in danger!” Sam yelled.

“I don’t give a damn about him,” I replied nonchalantly.

“Yes, you do!” he protested. “You give so many damns they’re visible from space.”

“No, I dont,” I said defensively. “He almost killed us!

Besides, he’s a despicable villain. He can handle himself.”

“He might die-”

“You know what yes you’re right I do give a damn. Now where’re the keys to his Lamborghini?” I stride down the hall.

He stifled a smile and followed me.

We’re coming for you, Trace.

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