Operation: R.E.G.R.E.T - Regret Endlessly Gives Rachel Extreme Troubles
Her mother was an art teacher.
It wasn't even a guess to guests who visited her study room for the first time. The first thing they saw when they walked in were the huge piles of sketchbooks with various names and academic years inked on the cover stacked on her desk. Then came the childish scribbles and unprofessional artwork from sketchbooks to canvases. Even the best ones weren't given a second glance.
But out of all the guests who set foot on her study room, Fanny was the only one who saw different from the rest.
When she first crawled in, the soft carpet underneath her tiny knees and tiny hands were the first welcome she had. Then came the canvases towering high above her head with magnificent sweeps and arcs of brush marks against the white background as one stroke after another merged into one heart-stopping picture. One artwork had a scenery of a tall tree with bright fiery red and blazing orange leaves scattering and dancing with the wind while it towered threateningly over the garden below. Never mind the messy bits around the tree, it was the power and the fury the artist had intended that mattered. The canvas next to it, her favourite one, had a calmer atmosphere to it.
A sheet of blue-green water rolled down the steep rocky slopes of the waterfall before it transformed into a white mist on the river below. Spring trees gathered around the river to marvel at its wonder while birds with stunning feathers were asleep on the branches.
She couldn't remember the rest of the artworks but the two she did remember had been put away in the comforting corner of her mind. It soothed her sadness when she remembered them. But one day, she wasn't sure when but the paintings were no longer remembered for soothing.
She did remember them, but she wasn't aware of the fact that she remembered. So the memories lay tucked away in the corner, untouched for years.
Before she joined as a KND operative, her mother used to give her good-night kisses before tucking her to bed. Sometimes she'd read to her her favourite book while other times they'd patch up every tiny bit of fantasies they conjured and make a story up.
Occasionally Fanny was allowed to have a page in her mother's sketchbook to draw. Sometimes she drew a stick-figured family portrait. Other times, a portrait of herself with bright rainbow wings.
"Well done, Fanny" Her mother would say before planting a kiss on her forehead. "One day, you'll be a great artist."
Back then she felt... special.
No, wait. She was special. And loved.
Her mother always praised her even for the most ordinary things and told her everything that made her extraordinary.
Drinking up her every word, she believed it. She believed she was special. She believed she was extraordinary.
But that was before she met Rachel. Or was it when they graduated as KND operatives?
Rachel, even without her awareness or will, hurt her in ways Rachel will never understand.
In ways that even she, Fanny Fulbright, failed to answer the why's and the how's.
"Numbuh 86, where is that report?"
"Numbuh 86, how could you forget to send Sector I to destroy that broccoli farm?"
"Numbuh 86, Sector B had been calling you for thousands of times! Why didn't you answer back?"
All through out morning to afternoon, Fanny had to run from room to room delivering papers, answering transmission calls and organizing her decommissioning squad.
Despite the honour and the advantages the position as a Global Tactical Officer brought, being one wasn't ideal for relaxing. Or having fun.
Unless you called going through mountain-sized files, writing reports every hour and sorting out the KND operatives 'relaxing and fun'.
To Fanny it was a constant ache on the head. And to add extra problems to her list, what thanks does she get from either the supreme leader or her subordinates?
Rachel hauling even more orders and scolding's while KND operatives sneering at her right under her nose.
But today, Rachel was thrice more demanding than her ordinary self. If it only wasn't for her blonde hair then she would have easily been mistaken as Fanny's long lost twin sister. Not that Fanny had one. But the way she yelled at her and began dishing out orders, there was some resemblance between her and the current Global Tactical Officer.
"Numbuh 86," 86 watched nervously as 362's eyes darted back and forth like a pendulum as she scanned the papers in her hands. "Y-yes, sir?"
"What are these?"
After searching for her leader from the ground floor to the top, Fanny had finally managed to find numbuh 362 in the Moonbase Hallways and hand her reports back in time.
Stiff-backed and standing straighter than a ruler with arms folded behind her back, Fanny stood to attention before her leader.
"I-it's the report ya asked for, s-sir."
"Report?"
Like she always does when she was nervous, 86 fiddled with the sleeves of her green sweater. Rachel was not in a calm mood. She'd been in a foul temper for several weeks now, since the new Moonbase had been built. No one knew the cause for her bitter face but there had been rumours that it was somehow connected with the disappearance of Nigel Uno. 86 thought otherwise. Or at least, she preferred to. All those ludicrous rumours of how 362 could possibly have a crush on that bald former Sector Leader made her nails leave marks on her palm.
Fanny fought against the urge to shrink back as Rachel went on. "How could you call these "reports"? Where are the names of this decommissioned operative's great grandparents? How many cousins does he have? Where are ALL these information?"
A faint trace of fear flickered in 86's eyes. The supreme leader, sharp-sighted she may be, was too busy eyeing her reports to notice.
"I-I don't have any sources leading me to any of them, sir. And I also thought they weren't really important and-"
"Of course they're important!" 86 flinched. "You'd been the head of Decommissioning Squad far longer than any KND operatives in the past! You should have known better!"
Sighing in frustration, the supreme leader handed her reports back to the head of Decommissioning Squad before sinking back on to her chair. She looked exhausted. There were black rings under her eyes, her hair stuck out in all angles and her feet seemed to drag everywhere she went.
She must be dead tired, Fanny thought to herself silently. Despite her awareness of being rude, she could not stop herself from gaping at her leader.
For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. It was just the her who existed in her sight.
Numbuh 362 didn't seemed to notice her second in command's eyes burning holes on to her. She was too drawn to her own thoughts as she gazed at the floor.
Her chocolate coloured eyes, almost shielded by stray strands of blonde hair, never failed to captivate her. Before she even realized it herself, Fanny's gaze stayed from her eyes to her lips.
A simple glance at it was enough to make her heart pick up speed. Off her mind went from the present to her own little fantasy world.
She wondered what it would be like to-
Wait...
Shock dragged her back to reality.
What on earth was she just thinking?
Surely she wasn't...?
No, Fanny shook her head to chase away the thoughts. She just admired her leader. End of story.
Who wouldn't admire someone as sweet, smart and cute as her?
Yes, it was just admiration she felt. Nothing more. What other explanation could there be for her to look at Numbuh 362 in such a daze?
"Yes, Numbuh 86? Is there another report I need to hear?" The supreme leader had turned back to her, her eyes once more stern and commanding like her usual self. She'd obviously noticed that Fanny was still glued to her current spot and frowned as she showed no signs of walking back to her office.
Fanny's heart skipped a beat and crumbled at the same time as she looked at her and had to turn her face away to hide her coloured cheeks.
"I-I'll get these reports redone as soon as I can, sir." After a hurried salute, she scampered away towards her office.
From behind she heard her leader call after her, "Get it done before nightfall!"
She wasn't even anywhere near her destination when her mind darted back to those heart-melting brown eyes and the soft lips...
CRASH!
She was face-flat on the ground, her papers flown out of her hands and decorating the floor into a lovely white mess.
86 shakily picked herself up, her forehead burning in deep agony and her nose dripping with something warm and red. Some of the passing-by operatives sniggered louder than the others. Several shot her quick surprised glances before scooting away in case the Head of Decommissioning Squad blamed them for the accident.
Confused at why she'd fallen to the ground, Fanny scanned around her surroundings until her gaze came across the wall she had run into.
Feeling ridiculously stupid, she silently picked herself up, her head angled slightly towards the floor, before hurriedly collected her papers and escaped to her office, one hand plastered to her nose and the other clutching her reports.
There is a bathroom meant only for the Head of Decommissioning Squad connected to her office.
It wasn't as pleasant and classy as the bathrooms in her house; it was just a simple tiled room painted in blue with a tub, a toilet and a sink with a mirror.
Once she ensured that her office door was shut and locked, 86 dragged herself to the bathroom mirror. What a day.
What a freaking day.
With both hands on either side of the sink, She gazed at the mirror. Gazed at it for a long time. Her reflection stared back.
She felt strangely remote from the girl in front of her. As if the reflective screen was merely a looking glass spying on someone other than Fanny. Someone who lives in another version of reality. Blood still dripped from her nose and she watched the droplets stain her green sweater dark red. No operative will ever forget this day. The day when Fanny Fulbright, the second in command and the most hated operative besides Numbuh 13, ran around and crashed into a wall like a brainless idiot.
She wouldn't be at all surprised to see the accident recorded in the 'History of Kids Next Door' book. But being recorded for the stupid accident was currently the last on her list of worries.
362 had yelled at her again.
362 had treated her hard work like it was a sewer again.
362 had plunged a needle inside her already bruised heart again.
Maybe she was right. Maybe 86 SHOULD have known better than to miss out on minor details.
As useless the details of great-grandparent's names could be, perhaps it would be of use one day.
But however much she blamed herself for the mistake, a small part of her wailed at the unfairness of it. She did every duty handed down to her to the best of her abilities but no matter how good or how hard she tried, she always ended up in pieces.
Why?
"Why?" She asked the girl.
The girl said nothing in return.
After a long silent competition of out-staring each other, 86 slowly reached for the toilet paper and pressed it gently against her numb nose.
The pain on her head was torturing but the ache inside her was worse.
When she glanced back at her reflection, she was shocked to see a single silver droplet squeeze through her eyelids and glide down her cheek.
For the rest of the day, Fanny was not seen outside her office.
No one needed to ask why because everyone already knew about the accident. It was so easy to start rumours in the Moon Base and spread them around in alarming speed.
She watched her second in command rush down the hallway leaving her alone in the hallway. Regret and guilt had been regular visitors of hers lately. She'd yell without meaning to, send Fanny away and regret everything she'd said to her.
It was unfair for Fanny, Rachel knew, because however much Numbuh 86 might have been hated by her operatives, her loyalty to the supreme leader and the KND was unquestionable and she strived everyday to achieve the best.
So, why did she yell at her for the missing details in her report when they weren't really essential information? It wasn't like her to shout at 86 like this. Numbuh 362 frowned, trying to analyse her attitude towards Fanny in every angle she could think of.
It wasn't because she hated Fanny. She was certain of that. They surprisingly managed to be good friends since they were recruited. It was true that there were times when Rachel found her irritating and clumsy but there was something about Fanny that she couldn't bring herself to truly hate her.
In fact, her clumsiness and thick Scottish accent made her inside flutter. She wasn't sure why but it was a both pleasant and uncomfortable feeling.
Often when she was alone, her mind always wandered away and glued itself to the red-head. Then she'll smile without meaning to and daydream about her. Despite her habit of yelling and superstition that girls were far more superior than boys, Fanny was adorable for someone as tough as a nail.
Rachel blinked in surprise. Did she just thought Fanny was 'adorable'?
She was suddenly aware of her heart pounding against her chest, she could almost hear each separate beat. Her face suddenly felt as if they were basking under the sun and even without a mirror, Rachel was well aware that she was going red on the face.
Adorable? She repeated the word once more in her head.
That's something only a cooing adult would say. Shaking her head and feeling uneasy with herself, she walked slowly back to her office.
Maybe I'm not getting enough sleep, She thought to herself. Yes that must be it. I'm not getting enough sleep.
Of course, what other explanations could there be for labelling her short-tempered, shout-aholic second in command "adorable"?
The clock hands soon shifted from their spot from afternoon to night.
Rachel could not stop herself from glancing at her clock after every few minutes or so.
It was already well past nine and Fanny still hadn't returned with her redone reports yet.
Instead of feeling annoyed, 362 was deeply anxious of 86's feelings.
She must be very upset, Rachel thought in concern, She must be working the living daylights out of her for the sake of adding minor unimportant details!
Again, regret and guilt gnawed on her heart as she sat behind her desk, still deeply troubled by how she'd shouted at 86. Drumming her fingers rhythmically against the wooden surface, she drowned herself in a pool of thoughts and confusions. However much she tried to wring her brain once more for answers she was still unable to answer the one question that left her baffled and dry of thoughts.
What was the reason for her sudden unpleasant attitude?
The way she yelled must have distressed the poor girl deeply and to add another worry to her list, what if Fanny never forgave her?
"Me and my attitude." 362 muttered bitterly under her breath as she kicked at the floor in frustration at herself.
Another hour had gone by. Rachel could not take it anymore. Just when she was about to pay a visit to the Global Tactical Officer, a knock on the door made her jump.
Feeling relief wash over her, 362 practically flew to the door. She was certain that it was 86 back with her redone reports. This time, Rachel will apologize to her. This time, she was going to praise her for the hard work and do whatever it takes to make it up for her.
After all she'd done, she deserved those apologies.
She deserved those praises.
She deserved-
"Numbuh 362, sir." It wasn't Fanny who was outside the door saluting her. It was...
"N-numbuh 65.3" Her relief soured in disappointment before it rotted back into regret and guilt. This was becoming even more serious than she thought. 86 NEVER handed her report past its due time. Was she currently brooding in her office? Maybe she's crying right now. What if she decided to retire because of her thoughtless yelling? Oh, why on earth couldn't Rachel had just clamped her big mouth shut?
"I've collected the data you asked for, sir." The overweight and slightly nerdy officer handed her a huge stack of folders that the top brushed the ceiling.
Data? I don't remember asking for any data... She thought silently. But just in case, she retrieved the files anyways.
362 grunted under the weight as her arms trembled a bit from the effort of holding it up.
"I made sure that every single important details were included, sir. Even the colour of toilet bowls in the broccoli farms." 65.3 seemed extremely pleased with his work. His smile went from one ear to the another and his chest was puffed out as if to show off his pride.
"Umm... Thanks?" She replied unsure whether he was joking or being honest. There are times when she could never tell whether he was serious or not.
She placed the data on her desk and was about to slip past Herbert when he blocked her way.
"Wait, sir, I just received a transmission call from Sector I a few minutes ago and they'd reported about broccoli farm sightings near the-"
"Sorry, 65.3. I know you came all the way here for the sake of reports but I'm in a bit of hurry right now. Resume the report for later." she said apologetically and tried to squeeze past the door through the space on his other side but again she was blocked from escaping.
"Just listen for a minute!" He wailed pleadingly. "There are kids being forced to eat broccoli out there, Sir! Your attention is urgently needed!"
"I said, resume the report later." She tried to squeeze past him again and once again she was blocked.
362 glanced back at the clock. It was already nearing eleven and 86 was still not here. Her worry had already turned into fear. Her fear was blooming into panic. In her mind's eye, she could already see the red-haired girl with the thick Scottish accent resigning from her position as a KND operative.
"Look, Numbuh 65.3" She turned back to the nerd. "I'm in a hurry to sort out a few important problems. I understand that the situation is serious but really I'm in a big hurry. I'll catch up with the rest of the report tomorrow morn-"
"But, sir!" He countered. "Kids are being tortured by angry adults who forces sprouts and broccoli down their throats! And all you're worried about are a few PROBLEMS?!"
She was nearing the end of her patience while 65.3 stubbornly stood his ground. This was getting ridiculous! Herbert was loyal to the KND and desperate to save children from adult tyranny, Rachel understood that. But it's not like she'd never come back and hear those reports. All he had to do was wait for her to apologise while she ensured that Fanny was okay. But NO he wouldn't wait or listen to her orders.
"Herbert." She hissed through gritted teeth before she could control herself. "As the Supreme Leader of Kids Next Door, I'm giving you a direct order to step aside and let me through."
He flinched at her tone. Rachel, one of the best Supreme Leader who always maintained her calm and kind personality, had been losing her temper with a LOT of operatives these days. Thinking better than to argue, he reluctantly stepped back.
As she stormed past him, only her pure rage could be seen. But beneath the shell was a little girl drowning in shame.
Back then, they lived in a mansion.
Even after all these years, she could still remember the checked floor, the luxurious sofas, the grandfather clock and the countless staircases carpeted in red.
It was so huge it was like walking around inside a museum to her. A museum with luxurious house furniture to be precise. But what she loved about those days was not her house but the neighbour next door.
Her name was literally Mrs Darling
She used to live in Maple Street right next to Rachel's home before they moved out.
Sometimes she'll bring freshly baked cookies while other times she'll knit her a new oversized jumper. The McKenzie family loved her to no end. Who wouldn't love the elder next door who knits them over-sized jumpers, brings cookies twice a week and supports them through one trouble after another? Rachel never thought it was possible to form a strong unbreakable bond between elder and adults; let alone elder with kids but then she was young back then.
Young enough that she would have been an under-aged operative if she had joined the KND Organization.
On her seventh birthday, June the second, Rachel was, for some unknown reason, kept indoors by her parents.
No matter how much she pleaded, they will not hear of it. And what made the situation even more confusing was that they refused to explain the reason for shutting her inside the house.
But at least, there was the birthday party to celebrate. One by one, the guests of her party, mostly her friends and classmates, filled the dining hall and every one of them wished her a happy birthday.
But someone was missing. Mrs Darling did not attend the party that afternoon.
The cake was cut, the presents were opened and the guests had left but still her favourite neighbour wasn't present.
Just before her bedtime that evening, there was a hurried knock on the door. Flushed from running and panting heavily, Mrs Darling was welcomed by cheers from Rachel the second she stepped inside. She apologized many times to her parents and Mr McKenzie, a tall slim man with identical blonde hair as his daughter, waved away her apologies. He assured her that they weren't upset and they were just glad that she made it before tomorrow.
Mrs Darling extended her skinny arm to hand Rachel her present. It was a neatly wrapped up box tied with a purple bow.
"Happy Birthday, darling." She croaked as she gave her a tight hug, nearly squeezing the breath out of her.
And then everything that came afterwards that night was confusingly unsettling.
As Rachel broke away from the hug, she noticed a wrist band on her wrinkly wrist. It was very pretty. It had red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple stripes. It looked like a rainbow.
"Mrs Darling." She pointed at her band. "Look, it's a rainbow."
Her parents froze. Their smiles looked like it was carved from boulders. Mrs Darling seemed to have gone a bit nervous too. She did not turn around but held on to Rachel's hand. It was almost as if she did not want to let go.
The silence seemed to last forever as if Rachel had said something that muted the world forever.
For a moment, she wondered if she'd said something wrong.
Perhaps Mrs Darling and her parents didn't like rainbows. Perhaps they didn't like colours all mixed up together and preferred one or two colours instead.
But why was she wearing a rainbow wristband if that was so?
"Mrs Darling?" she clutched her box tighter until her knuckles were white.
Her father finally broke the silence. "Rachel, it's time to go to bed." She looked at him for a moment and back at Mrs Darling. Looked at him again and back to her.
Her neighbour seemed... disappointed? angry? nervous?
It was hard to tell. She was still smiling and holding her hand. Her eyes weren't smiling. They were... Twinkling?
"Daddy, may I stay until Mrs Darling leaves?" Rachel pleaded timidly. What was going on? why were they not happy?
"You can see her another time. Go to your bed." He replied.
Rachel refused to move. She wasn't going anywhere until Mrs Darling left.
"RACHEL!" He growled.
"Don't worry, little one." A tight squeeze on her hand before she let go. "Goodni-"
"GO to your ROOM." He was half shouting now. A gentle push on her back. Rachel turned to look at her elderly neighbour for the last time. Her wrinkled but kind face, her dull sapphire eyes and her greying hair. They all seemed to fuse together to form a single word: Goodbye.
That was the last time she ever saw her again. Afterwards, there were some dark mutterings among her parents but their conversations were too low that it was a mere stream of shapeless sounds to Rachel.
Then there was a faint 'creak'.
And the front door was closed.
Rachel lay on her bed, breathing as deeply as she could. The box was still in her arms. She refused to let go. It was the last remaining object that smelled of her.
Footsteps on the staircase. And her father poked his head through the door.
He looked at her for a moment as if lost for words.
"Give me the box, Rachel." He finally said. The tone of his voice demanded complete obedience and she handed him her present without a squeak of objection.
She knew where he was going to hide it. Later that night, when she was sure her parents had fallen asleep, she crept into the kitchen and dug out the box with the purple bow out of the trash can.
It smelled faintly of cake and orange juice but otherwise unharmed.
She left the box inside the trash to make it seem as if her present was still thrown away and left with her birthday sweater.
It was orange with purple stripes.
86 sighed as she half-heartedly scanned her reports for the millionth time.
She was exhausted from sitting behind her desk and staring at the papers for goodness knows how long.
Her report was nowhere near 'fully detailed'. 362 wouldn't be pleased...
Fanny glanced at the clock and nearly jumped out of her chair.
Her report was already past its due time! She was supposed to have it returned to 362 ages ago.
Hurriedly gathering her stuff, she was about to leave when she heard someone knock on her door.
It must be 362. She must have gotten impatient and was here to demand answers to why her reports weren't handed back on time.
Trembling slightly, she adjusted her helmet and tucked her hair neatly behind her ears before opening the door.
******** To be Continued ***********