Empty
By Cybra
A/N: A depressing post-decommissioning fic. Considering how much a part of his life the Kids Next Door is, I'm guessing that normal life—even if he can't remember the organization—will be a huge let down for Nigel.
Disclaimer: Codename: Kids Next Door was created by Tom Warburton.
"He's been moping for days, Monty…"
"Oh, he'll be fine. He just needs to focus his energy on something."
"Pass it here, Nigel!"
He expertly kicked the black and white sphere to the right towards Matt. Moves practiced to perfection. All thanks to hours upon hours of hard work.
But no fire. No passion. He loved the sport but there was no drive as he played it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't throw himself into the game with the same reckless abandon as the other teens.
"I don't understand it. It seems like he's been dreading turning thirteen, and now…Now it's like he's changed overnight!"
"I'm sure it's just a phase he's going through."
"Perhaps you're right, dear."
His feet pounded the turf, keeping pace with his teammates. The rest of the team (currently playing as their opponents) moved to block their maneuvers.
He leapt nimbly over a slide tackle, keeping his focus forward.
"Hey!" Ricky yelled, annoyed to have been dodged so easily.
He vaguely remembered a time when he would've thrown a taunt back in the opposition's face. But what was the point? Where was the thrill?
"How was your day, Nigel?"
"Fine. I'm going to my room."
"Wait a—"
There used to be something…more…to all of this. Something that made it worth waking up and heading off to school. Something he'd forgotten and, even if he couldn't remember it, he sorely missed.
What had happened to it? Why couldn't he remember?
And why couldn't he have it back?
The ball landed in front of his feet, and he easily trapped it, racing towards the goal.
However, a scene just to the right and behind the goal caught his attention. Two teenage girls outfitted in what looked like armor battled five kids armed with weapons made from household items. Lights flashed as the two opponents yelled.
'They're only playing some kind of game. Obviously, those two are babysitting,' some part of his mind whispered.
Yet some other part of his mind argued that, no, this was no game. And, without conscious thought, his foot moved to launch the ball.
It sailed past the right goalpost, zoomed through the air, and struck the closest teenage girl in the head. She misfired her weapon and nearly hit her teammate.
The two groups stopped, turning to stare.
He became aware of his teammates laughing as he jogged towards them. "Sorry. I guess it got away from me."
"Nah, i's cool. I's cool," one of the two girls in armor said casually.
"Abby, those little brats are getting away!" the second one yelled.
Sure enough, the kids had decided to high-tail it out of there. Probably to get under cover to gain the upper hand.
He picked up the ball and watched as the girl he'd struck tore off down the street while the other girl shrugged and followed at a more leisurely pace.
Funny. For a moment, he hadn't felt so empty.
Abby, now an undercover teen operative working as a mole in the Teen Ninjas, glanced back at the retreating back of her former leader.
It had taken everything she had to act as if she hadn't seen the vacant look in his eyes. The lack of spark was on par with the Delightful Children From Down the Lane.
'If life were fair, Numbuh 1, you'd be doin' this instead of me.'
