Good evening dear reader. Welcome to Numbuh 832! The fourth story in my Legends Universe series! What? The third story isn't complete by the time I post this? GASP! eh...that story isn't as important as this one. But, eh. I'll get back to it. I'm a professional at going out of order. Anyways.
Theme song for this story is 'I Wish I Knew Natalie Portman' by K-os.
Legends Universe: Story 4
Numbuh 832
12 August, 2005
Rain loudly clashed against the worn down abandoned automobile manufacturing plant. Scattered glass fragments lay around window sills and bars of steel rusted against the elements. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed across the moody sky.
A sudden updraft rocked the 2x4 air ship. The Decommissioning Squad had their work cut out for them. Usually they were hot on the tail of their quarry. But this specific operative had them running ragged across the globe. They caught up with their quarry time and time again, only for the operative to evade them.
But not today.
No, they we're ready for the operative this time.
Numbuh 86, in her brand new, standard issue Decommissioning Squad uniform, stood in the dimly lit 2x4 drop ship, clinging to a railing for support as the ship rocked. The Decommissioning Squad recruit shuffled against the 2x4 hardware the Squad had packed with them.
The D.O.H.-D.O.H. was a marvelous piece of ingenuity. Though she'd never actually driven one herself, Numbuh 86 could tell from the design and lack of wheels, this piece of machinery was meant for hot pursuits.
"T-Minus Sixty Seconds to destination!" Numbuh 58 hollered from the pilot seat.
A television screen propped out of overhead, showing the cape-clad Head of Decommissioning, Numbuh 501, sitting comfortably behind her desk. "You're target is uniquely charged with conspiracy to overthrow the Kids Next Door. This is a crime punishable by immediate decommissioning." Numbuh 501 spoke robotically.
Numbuh 86 looked around in the dark as other operative, most hugging their weapons, itched for a chance to stretch their cramped legs.
"Be weary of Numbuh 832, this one has gone to great lengths to evade capture before. You may have to get crafty with this one." Numbuh 501 said dryly before signing off. "Good luck team. Bring him in."
The dropship began to rock more so as it sped through the rain. Pilots began mounting their respective D.O.H.-D.O.H.s, switching the beast of machines on and providing some partial illumination in the cabin.
"Here we go." Numbuh 86 muttered under her breath, gripping the handle of the M.U.S.K.E.T tightly.
"Ten to destination!" Numbuh 58 shouted. "Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! …" The dropship's engines screeched to a sudden halt, slowing to an appropriate pace. The loading ramp unlocked and fell backwards. "ONE! GO GO GO!"
The D.O.H.-D.O.H.s driven by their pilots, hopped backwards off the dropship, landing on the damp surface below.
"Let's go!" Numbuh 88A, the Decommissioning Squad field leader shouted as he pumped his fist upward. He drove forward, flanked by three other D.O.H.-D.O.H.s, each one racing towards the abandoned manufacturing plant ahead.
The 2x4 dropship landed slightly, allowing Numbuh 86 and the remainder of the force to disembark the craft, weapons ready as they stormed the building. The ship ascended up into the air. A searchlight brightened up the building as it shone from the sky above.
Numbuh 86 breathed heavily. This was her first real mission. Numbuh 99 led the way in. A fresh squad recruit from another sector, like Numbuh 86, Numbuh 99 enthusiastically kicked in a rusted out door.
"Move in!" Numbuh 88B shouted, leading the operatives into the building. "Sweep the top floor." Numbuh 88B barked at Numbuh 86.
"Yes sir." Numbuh 86 nodded before racing up a flight of nearby stairs.
The metallic clang of gears from the D.O.H.-D.O.H.s overruled the thunder for dominance.
Numbuh 86 cautiously entered the top floor. Numbuh 99 and another operative close behind her, providing Numbuh 86 back up.
"Fan out." Numbuh 86 muttered coolly.
Flashlights kicked on as the three operatives each went off in separate directions.
"No evidence of him down here, brother." Numbuh 88B spoke into a radio, communicating with his twin brother, Numbuh 88A.
"Keep looking." Numbuh 88A responded. "We're sweeping the outside. If we don't find anything he'll still be inside then."
Numbuh 86 carefully walked through he rusted ruins of the building. Numbuh 86 made it to the end of a hallway, finding a closed door ahead of her.
"I've got a closed door here. Top floor." Numbuh 86 spoke into her helmet's built in radio. "Breaching door." Numbuh 86 produced a tiny explosive charge, priming it and setting it on the lock. Numbuh 86 stepped backwards, as the timer hit zero. A small loud pop and the door flew open. Numbuh 86 ran inside, weapon held up, ready to fire.
What Numbuh 86 found, however, was no fugitive operative, but evidence of his presence. A small portable lamb illuminated the room. It was battery operated by the looks of it. A cup of portable ramen, still steaming. And a make-shift cot in the corner of the room.
"Numbuh 86 to team leader." Numbuh 86 spoke into the radio in her helmet. "Upstairs, sign of recent activity. He's here."
"Confirmed." A voice belonging to Numbuh 88B muttered over the radio.
Numbuh 86 scrounged through the fugitive's belongings. A small creek in the floor caused Numbuh 86 to rapidly spin around, taking a kneeling stance as she raised her weapon at the door. Numbuh 99 and the other operative stood I the doorway, hands waving to prevent Numbuh 86 from shooting them.
"Sorry." Numbuh 86 apologized.
"Anything so far?" Numbuh 99 asked as he and the other operative began searching the room.
"We've got his kit, his supplies, and all of his other essentials." Numbuh 86 gestured to the items in the room. "He's going to want these if he's going to attempt to run."
The other operative slowly approached the cot in the corner, having heard a slight noise.
"Hold on. I think I got something…" Numbuh 86 pulled a vanilla folder out of a backpack. "It's a case file…"
The operative approached the edge of the cot, weapon trained on the seemingly uninhabited makeshift bed. The operative, with a great deal of force, threw over the sheet. Finding nothing. "Huh…could have sworn-" The Operative began to say before a boy around the operative's age slid out from under the cot, pulling at the operative's legs.
The kid slammed the operative against the edge of the cot and quickly reached for the operative's weapon.
Numbuh 86 knelt behind cover as the kid blasted Numbuh 99 with their colleague's weapon. "He's upstairs!" Numbuh 86 shouted into her radio. She stepped out of cover and raised her weapon. She pulled the trigger and launched a mustard blast at the fugitive.
The kid ran at Numbuh 86, the mustard skimming the top of his head and sticking against his shortened hair. The kid jumped over Numbuh 86, grabbing the case file and backpack. In one swift move, the operative spun around, throwing the file into the pack and shoving Numbuh 86 backwards.
The fugitive ran for a nearby window, raising the weapon he procured from the Decommissioning Squad operative and fired at the glass. The glass rained outward as the kid threw himself out the window.
"Numbuh 832 is outside! I repeat, Numbuh 832 is now out of the building!" Numbuh 86 shouted into her radio.
Outside, the 2x4 dropship's searchlight trained itself on the fugitive Numbuh 832. "Target sighted." Numbuh 58 spoke over a loud speaker.
"You have my permission to open fire, Numbuh 58." Numbuh 88A spoke into his personal radio.
"Roger." Numbuh 58 muttered into her mic. She moved her hands to the weapons console and worked the mounted machine gun turret controls. The chewing gum pellet launching gun turret below the belly of the dropship whirred to life. A hail of chewing gum rained down towards Numbuh 832.
Numbuh 832 slipped through a hole in the side of building, saving himself from the motion slowing properties of the gum pellet rounds.
"Fugitive just found his way back into the building. Lower floor. Go get him." Numbuh 58 spoke into her mic.
"Got it." Numbuh 88B nodded. He turned to the operatives beside him and rallied them. "Lower floor. Lets go!"
Numbuh 832 leaned against a rusted out metal wall, catching his breath from the heart racing acrobatics of leaping out of a window. Numbuh 832's dark clothing and recently shaved head offered the boy some protection from the hawk like eyes of the Decommissioning Squad.
Rain boot thuds and stomps echoed throughout the building, each sound getting closer and closer. Numbuh 832 threw the casefile into the backpack and threw it on. Numbuh 832 looked around at the oddly comforting structure of the building with longing eyes. It had done its job keeping him safe for the past month, but even it could not hold back the might of the Decommissioning Squad forever.
Numbuh 832 holstered the weapon he procured from the operative in his right pant pocket. Past the wall, beneath a lengthy wool cloth, rested Numbuh 832's salvation.
When taking up residence in an abandoned manufacturing plant and being hunted by the best of the best of the Kids Next Door, it paid to plan your exit strategies ahead of time.
"Approaching fugitive's last known position." Numbuh 88B spoke in his mic as he, Numbuh 86 and the other members of the Decommissioning Squad ran to their quarry, weapons raised and ready to unleash hell.
"All exits are covered." Numbuh 88A smirked as he and the operatives on D.O.H.-D.O.H.s sat patiently outside. "Bring him in."
The operatives approached the side of the building, evidence of the decay as shown by the hole in the side. "He's here, probably wetting himself." Numbuh 88B smirked. After all this time. They had him.
"Come on out Numbuh 832. We've got you. No sense in delaying the inevitable now, right?" Numbuh 88B, his voice, though belonging to a child, boomed.
Nearby, a wool cloth began to shake. Numbuh 88B turned his weapon on it, noting the deformed shape of the unknown material hidden beneath. Silently, Numbuh 88B signaled the operatives, each of them coming to the same conclusion of Numbuh 832's hiding spot.
The operatives silently crept towards the cloth, making sure not to alert Numbuh 832. Numbuh 88B reached for the edge of the cloth, sweat dripping down his forehead. He glanced to the operatives around, each one nodding as they kept their weapons trained on the shape beneath the cloth.
Numbuh 88B yanked the cloth over his head. Jet Engines kicked on. A beat up G.A.R.G.O.C.Y.C.L.E. blast past the operatives, knocking them down with a shockwave. The 2x4 jet cycle erupted out of the building, smashing through wood and plaster walling.
"There he is!" Numbuh 88A shouted as he hit his D.O.H.-D.O.H.'s weapons control. A hail of laser fire followed Numbuh 832 as Numbuh 88A gave chase.
High above, the dropships spotlight followed close behind as Numbuh 58 attempted to stay with the action, providing weapons fire while keeping tabs on the fugitive.
"Keep after him!" Numbuh 88A shouted at the top of his lungs. Rain pelted against the Decommissioning Squad as the raced after their quarry. Weapons fire blared louder than any thunder.
Numbuh 832 glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the spotlight that shone over him and his G.A.R.G.O.C.Y.C.L.E. Drawing the weapon from his right pocket, Numbuh 832 spun his arm around and aimed, pulling the trigger and shooting out the spotlight.
"Lights gone dark!" Numbuh 58 shouted over the radio. The pilot looked over the control consoles, eyeing the lights projected from the individual D.O.H.-.D.O.H.s but nothing from Numbuh 832's G.A.R.G.O.C.Y.C.L.E. "I've lost visual contact."
Racing through great open space, Numbuh 88A and the Decommissioning Squad operatives did their best to keep up with their quarry. "Shoot Him! Don't let him get away!" The Decommissioning Squad field leader shouted.
Numbuh 832 glanced over his shoulder once more, eyeing the dropship more so than the D.O.H.-D.O.H.s. The dropship slowed its pace and began to fly aimlessly. With great confidence, Numbuh 832 hit the rocket cycle's controls, ascending into the air.
"He's getting airborne!" Numbuh 88A screamed. "Shoot him down! Shoot him down!"
Without the dropship firmly watching his movements, Numbuh 832 now had a greater chance at escaping. With a victorious grin, Numbuh 832 ascended into the sky.
"Numbuh 58! Shoot him down!" Numbuh 88A barked.
"I can't see him." Numbuh 58 muttered as she peered below ahead of the D.O.H.-D.O.H.s.
Numbuh 88A's D.O.H.-D.O.H. slowed its pace. Numbuh 88A sat there, rain beating against his helmet as he watched in anger as Numbuh 832 rocket away, disappearing over a tree line.
The G.A.R.G.O.C.Y.C.L.E. rushed through the air, flying over tree tops, safely away from the Decommissioning Squad. Numbuh 832 let out a breath of relief.
Setting down somewhere miles away in a local town alley way, Numbuh 832 dismounted the G.A.R.G.O.C.Y.C.L.E. The fugitive fell to the dirt ground, leaning against the 2x4 rocket cycle. He threw off the backpack, making sure to check the safety of its contents. There in the bag was the case file. Numbuh 832 held it to his chest as he cried.
Passer-byers would glance down the alley way for a brief second and turn away at the sight of Numbuh 832. To them, he appeared to be another homeless kid in need of a home, something they couldn't, or wouldn't provide. Numbuh 832 was no thirteen year old running away from his birthday party, barely nine years old.
The passer-byers just kept on walking. Sobs echoing out of the alley, no one willing comfort a crying child.
Kids Next Door Moon Base
Decommissioning Squad Quarters
Numbuh 501's Office
"He escaped again?" Numbuh 501 asked, quite surprised. "I thought his cycle was trashed from the last encounter?" Numbuh 501 narrowed her eyes at a television screen showing a real time image of Numbuh 88A.
"We found him in an abandoned manufacturing plant. Odds are he bunkered down here for some time to repair his damaged ride." Numbuh 88A's voice held hints of anger. "I can't believe he got away again."
"Sweep the building." Numbuh 501 ordered. "You should have caught him by surprise, there's no way he could have grabbed everything. Look for anything that might suggest where he'll run to next. And, off the record, get me that blasted case file."
"It will be done, ma'am. Numbuh 88A out." The screen went dark. The television folded into Numbuh 501's metal desk with a whir and a creek.
With a sigh, Numbuh 501 removed her custom made Sector Leader Helmet, placing at the edge of her desk. Her gold locks fell aside as she lost herself in thoughts, thoughts that angered her. Numbuh 832 was still at large, having evaded her and her forces for more than three months. Numbuh 501 gritted her imperfect teeth. How she wanted to break every bone in that boy's body.
Numbuh 501 snapped out of her thoughts, looking up at the wooden office door. A simple knock at the door. "Come in." Numbuh 501 muttered.
The door opened and there stood Numbuh 206, the Head of the Spy Sector. Black clothing as usual with a purple feature concealing bandana wrapped around his mouth to the bridge of his nose. "What do you want?" Numbuh 501 asked, irritated.
"Scowling doesn't make you look any less ugly, Mary." Numbuh 206 spoke coldly. Numbuh 501 scoffed before giving Numbuh 206 the bird. "My rude comments aside, I wish to know if that loose end had been tied up. Well, is it done?"
"No." Numbuh 501 glared at Numbuh 206. "He's evaded capture once again."
"Perhaps I should send Numbuh 362." Numbuh 206 pondered. "She's had great luck retrieving operatives for us, such as Cree, until we let her go of course."
"No, Numbuh 274's been looking into Numbuh 362." Numbuh 501 shook her head. "Ever since Cree 'escaped', he's been keeping a close eye on her. Not to mention, ever since the failed assassination attempt, he's been looking at everyone differently. No, I won't need any of your help here. I'll keep this matter in house."
"If you say so." Numbuh 206 took a seat across from Numbuh 501, reclining in the chosen armchair.
"So, has she said anything?" Numbuh 206 asked.
"Our benefactor?" Numbuh 501 asked, earning a nod as a reply. "Yes. She said we're almost ready. We just need to sort this mess out before we deal with Numbuh 274, then we're in the clear."
"Then you'd better get on it." Numbuh 206 said angrily, earning a glare from the Head of Decommissioning. "Don't even bring him in. Kill him. Be done with it."
"I've tried my best to keep this clean, but I guess we're finally at that point." Numbuh 501 turned and hit a button, causing the television screen to pop out of the desk. The screen buzzed to life as Numbuh 88A came into view.
"Yes ma'am?" Numbuh 88A stood at attention.
"Next time you see Numbuh 832, kill him."
And so concludes the first chapter of Numbuh 832. I hope you liked it! Expect updates...eventually.
