Story Edited: 4/30/15


6 Years After Operation Z.E.R.O.

Brookfield Insane Asylum

May 16th

Two orderlies led an elderly man into the recreation room within the Asylum. They set the man amongst a number of other patients in front of an old black and white television. The orderlies switched on the television just in time for the five o'clock news.

"Days have passed since the death of Quahog, Rhode Island's own residential vigilante, The Sandman. The identity of The Sandman was also made public days later, revealed to be none other than sixteen year old Nolan York."

The elderly man shook suddenly at the mention of the teen's name.

"Nolan York was at one point a member of the Kids Next Door, known as Numbuh 2030. It can only be assumed that his time spent with them influenced him to wage a war on crime, in ways that the Kids Next Door dare not attempt."

The old man shook his head, catching the attention of the orderlies. "Hey…he's never done that before, right?"

"He's been a mindless sack for over six years. Never blinking, no muscle spasm, nothing." The other orderly mentioned.

"Despite his controversial fight against what he perceived to be crime, an Icarus Corp funded funeral is being prepared for tomorrow afternoon."

The elderly man shot up from he was seat, staggering forward to turn off the television. Much to the shock of the orderlies, the elderly man turned to them and smiled. He simply walked off, leaving the two orderlies to watch in awe.


Civic City, Pennsylvania

August 9th

"You failed me Nolan. You are no longer fit to serve as my chosen envoy. The world already believes you dead and Kayla's dreams were the only thing keeping your memory alive."

"I will not kill you, no. Instead I will present you with an ultimatum."

"Go home. Your mother is in Civic City. Go to her and be a kid. Grow up and forget all of this."

"If you don't, I will kill all of your friends in their dreams. I know how much you care for your friends. Josh, Mario, Edward, Crystal and those Siamese Twins."

"Leave. And do not interfere."

A teen with messy dark hair, wearing baggy khaki cargo pants and a light sweater shook himself out of his thoughts. The teen stood on a sidewalk outside an electronics store amongst a crowd. The crowd had gathered last night, all waiting for this one television to turn back on after a day of darkness.

"In the aftermath of panic outbreaks across the globe, major cities across the world are slowly regaining control and returning to normal. President Benedict Uno will be addressing the nation on the whole matter later this evening."

"What a bunch of baloney." A man with a scruffy beard muttered. "I tell you all, this is just going to get worse, can't you tell? First he's cutting down tree houses, blaming kids, and now the entire countries breaking out in mass panic? I tell you, the moment that Benedict Uno stepped into office, the entire world just had a stroke."

"I didn't vote for him." A woman nearby shrugged.

The teen smiled, noting the change in everyone's tune. Months ago, if the boy had been present at a gathering similar to this, they would have mentioned the KND and how they were to blame. 'Everyone's waking up.' The teen thought. 'They've opened their eyes to Benedict's administration. It's up to Nigel and the others now, I guess.'

The teen walked away from the television as the crowd began to disperse. He knew all he needed to know, things were changing. The teen glanced to his left where a worker at a local butcher shop was currently ripping Anti-KND posters off the side of his shop. 'Things are changing for the better.' The teen thought with a smile.

"You seem to be awfully cheerful." The teen need not turn, already knowing the individual behind him.

"Why shouldn't I be, Carol?" The teen smiled as a girl with red hair in a ponytail walked up beside him. "People are waking up, realizing that they've been following a fool."

"Speaking of fools." The girl, Carol, said quickly changing the topic. "Infinity wants me to go run an errand for him, nothing too big. He mentioned something about gathering an army."

"Are we that close to the end?" The teen asked.

"Apparently so." Carol shrugged. "Do tell your mother I said 'thank you', it was kind of her to let me stay at your place."

"Anytime Carol." The teen's smile faltered slightly. "Sure you don't want me to come with? Not like I got anything going on here."

"Thanks, but no thanks 'Locksmith." Carol said as she began to walk away from the teen.

"You sure? I mean-I can help." The teen said as he watched Carol, the former Numbuh C4, depart.

"Nolan." Carol turned back to the teen. "Just live, for once. You deserved it."

"Hey, Carol…" The teen, Nolan, dug into his pants pocket, pulling out a letter. "The next time you see Kayla, would you mind giving her this?"

"Kayla? Sand? Sorry man, but while you were 'dead', she hooked up with Josh." Carol gave Nolan an apologetic look. "That boat sailed a while ago."

"Would you just give this to her?" Carol studied Nolan's face, and for once she saw desperation

The teen walked along the sidewalk, walking past faces unknown. He thought in silence as he walked against a gentle breeze. His mind juggled events in his head. His attention jumped from the events surrounding his death months ago and his miraculous revival, from his past troubles with the opposite gender, to his encounter with Carol the day before. A frown soon found its way on his face. His thoughts soon fell onto the KND. Countless memories, countless people he'd met during his time.

He recalled his moving to Quahog and meeting Sector Q, the day that changed his life forever. He recalled the events leading to his joining the KND, being kidnapped by a teen called Prom Queen and her Teen Ninjas. The sole two members of aging Sector Q saved him, but it came at a price. One was decommissioned due to extensive injuries, while later on down the line the other would die saving him and his teammates.

He remembered the Civil War. How he was put in charge, how he was trusted by Numbuh 362 to make sure things ran smoothly. He remembered Kayla, his Kayla. Not his anymore. It was a set up from the start. She was supposed to use him, not like him. But she did, and it was real. Until she was unwittingly used to kill him. He died for a while, his job was given to Kayla by his boss, gave her his powers disguised while as him, Kayla hooked up with his best friend. Maybe it was her way of coping? Nolan would probably never know.

Nolan soon found himself in a section of his memories he'd wish to forget, his lowest moments, the darkest moments, and even the worst moments of his life. Cries of agony rang through the boy's head. His heart began to beat twice as fast, the road ahead appeared to shake and his vision blurred. Nolan stopped in his tracks and leaned against a nearby wall. Time passed as Nolan regained his composure.

He shook his head, choosing not to have his mind wander to such memories again. A soda bar in the corner of Nolan's eye quickly provided him a distraction from his thoughts. He spun on his heel and walked into the soda bar. The soda bar was dimly lit, teens with personalities written on their sleeves sat in booths, drinking their problems away on root beer. Nolan took a seat at the counter, hailing the bartender.

"Can I get a root beer?" he asked. The bartender simply nodded. He pulled a bottle out of a mini fridge and popped the cap off. He set a coaster before Nolan, allowing the bartender to safely place the ice cold soda bottle without fear of damaging his precious counter top. "Is the coaster necessary?"

"It's the policy." The bartender muttered.

"Thanks." It had been a while, Nolan thought. Root beer had a strange effect on kids, it gave them a sugar rush, it threw them off their game during missions. That's the reason why he hadn't touched a single drop of root beer in six years. Unlike any of the other sodas, root beer had the strongest effect on kids, especially on the hundreds of operatives within the KND.

But what should he care. Nolan took a sip of his drink. He was retired. No longer was he needed. Not by Numbuh Infinity's Society, not by the people of Quahog, not by the god of dreams, not by anyone. He wasn't a vigilante anymore, he wasn't helping the fight against Benedict Uno either, he was just good ol' former Numbuh 2030, supposedly decommissioned and supposed to be deceased.

One bottle of root beer turned to two, then to four. Nolan slumped onto the counter top, staring at his latest glass of soda. "The soda limit is six." The bartender said to Nolan. "Even for teens."

"Gotcha." Nolan muttered. Even in his groggy state, he could count. The bartender had just taken his fourth bottle away and replaced it with a fifth, the one in his hand. "That means I can have one more."

"I wouldn't recommend it." The bartender muttered as another teen took a seat at the counter. The bartender left to attend the new patron, leaving Nolan with his fifth root beer.

He may have been older, but Nolan could feel the effects of the root beer, it felt just like how it did six years ago. It wasn't a giant jolt of energy; it was the crash the normally occurred afterward, a sudden tiredness. Deciding it would be best to leave while he still could; Nolan pulled out his wallet and paid for his drinks. He stumbled off his seat and staggered out the door.

By the time Nolan left the soda bar, no longer was it the morning, but late in the afternoon. Nolan sighed, feeling the chill of the coming night air. He zipped up his jacket and walked off. He turned to his street, having only recently taken up residence in Civic City, he found it quite difficult to locate his house. He heard sudden gasps from down the street. A bright light glowed at the end of the street, attracting the attention of the neighbors. Doors opened, people ran out, murmuring, shouting, asking aloud what it could be. Nolan's curiosity got the better of him. He followed their example and walked to the end of the street.

There, too much of his surprise, a dummy decked out with a grey hoodie and a gas mask was stapled to a wooden stake and lit aflame. "Honey." Nolan looked over his shoulder to find his mother approaching the gathering crowd. "What is it?"

Nolan looked back to the house, his house; his mother had walked from. It had two floors, a total of five rooms consisting of two bed rooms, a guest room, an office, and a living room, and no backyard. There was nothing special about his house, except that it was lined up with the flaming dummy at an angle. It was obvious, he was meant to see it. His room on the second floor could clearly see it no matter how many were in the crowd.

Nolan turned back to the dummy, noting the gas mask the dummy had on. It was a message, Nolan thought. Someone knew where he was, and they wanted him to know it. Someone knows who he is, where he lives, and they were rubbing it in his face. They wanted him to feel uneasy, to know that they could have easily gotten him in his sleep. Instead, they set up an elaborate display for him to see.

"Someone knows I'm here mom." Nolan whispered, lest not alert one of the surrounding neighbors. "And they want me to know it." For the first time in a long time, Nolan felt a sense of dread, a sense of worry, a sense of panic.