KND - Operation - The Beginning

"You won't get away so easily, number one. Not this time." crackled a voice that sounded like a whisper in my ear as I was lifted off my feet and found myself in a boy's arms. The noisy click-clack of thick silver metal against each other could be heard as a sudden burst of energy propelled me and the boy through the ancient house. The two KND's operatives could hear the clack-clack of the delightful children's heeled shoes as they ran after number one and the stringy haired brunette.

Something bright red and fiery hot streaked by Number One's face and it sizzled right past him into the nearby wall as he adjusted in his flight pattern. I thought we were safe for sure - Nigel was so fast and confident, I had no doubts, but then someone seized hold of my shoes and yanked hard - I really did think my ankle was going to break. I turned my head around, being difficult to do since we were going at a neck-breaking speed, and saw just the silhouette of Father, the number one enemy of the knd, gripping my shoe in his hand.

He was grinning, and while the rockets on Number One's shoes were making it difficult for him, we were slowing down - Father was winning. . . I slipped from his protective grasp and was hung upside down by the arch nemesis of KND and more specifically, Nigel. I gasped for breath - it'll do that to you after going that fast - Number One looked back and cried out my name but I looked pleadingly at him. "No, save yourself!" I begged. "Go, NOW!" I screamed, feeling quite dizzy. . .

But I suppose your wondering how I and Number one ended up in said situation? It's very simple actually - or maybe it's not. I happened to come across some vital information while in the knd library - a massive collection of books that had been collected from the very beginning of time - or at least written time. It was a mountain of books in over one thousand bookcases. It was next to the museum of artifacts - the items from the museum would be categorized in the library.

This is where I came in - I was an assistant curator - never allowed to touch the artifacts, but I was to catalogue them on paper. And then I was to put the journals in a secret section of the library - it was concealed behind the middle bookcase on the back wall. Pulling certain books in a special order was the only way to enter - and only I and the other curators knew the combination.

A few days ago, I was going through some papers, and putting them in order in the secret office behind the bookcase - it was a little musty and a bit cold, so I poked a log in the fireplace and lit a fire. Warming my hands up in the light of the fire, I smiled as I looked through a window - it was one of those half-mooned ones with old green panes, but it was cleaned well. A mug of hot cocoa I had just made greeted me close to the table where I worked at as I glanced outside at the dawning sun peek in through the window.

Pulling my computer chair up to the table, I glanced at it as I blew on the hot cocoa. Sipping on it now would certainly mean a burnt tongue if not worse - unless you had a heat reducer tablet - which had recently been created in the knd laboratories. I popped one of those into my mouth, which cooled it down faster than a Yorkie Peppermint Patty before I sipped.

My chocolate colored brown hair hung down in my face, and my glasses hung on the bridge of my nose as I scanned the works when a strong, wintery wind blew down the fireplace, causing a shiver down my spine and all of the papers on the desk to scatter everywhere. "Ack! The papers!" I called in distress, and quickly went to collect all of the papers. "Let's see, here's one - ooh, here's another one. . ." I mumbled as I grabbed another paper underneath the desk.

Another one was hiding behind the bust of Number Zero, one of the greatest and first heroes of the knd. Another one - I found it underneath one of the bookcases - just the tell tale white corner stood out in the slightly dusty room. I had to bend down and lay on the floor to get that one. And then something caught my eye. In the very back of the bookshelf was a dusty old book, the binding breaking in several spots.

I reached back as far as I could and my fingers inched across an inch away from the diary, frustrated that I was so close, yet so very far. I strained my fingers to where they felt like they were going to come off from the joints, and I felt a smile come to my pale lips as one hooked the sloping bend of the binding. I let out a sigh of relief and slid it closer so I could grab it. Soon I had the treasure in my hand, and I coughed slightly from the dust.

"What is this?" I wondered aloud. My dark eyes scanned the cover first and I didn't find anything on the green leather cover besides a name in the corner, and a strange marking. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't remember where I had seen it before. Puzzling over it, I flipped it onto the back, and there in the corner I found the remnants of a name, but it was too badly worn that I couldn't make it out. Hm, I would have to put the other curators look it up. But for now . . . an actual undiscovered artifact! And I would get to see it first! Excitement flooded through me like a jolt of electricity.

I was very careful as I opened the front cover. The musty smell of old paper greeted my nose - an old, familiar scent that I loved dearly. I noted that the paper was yellow in color and tattered along the edges. On the first page was what looked like a name, but it was unreadable - the inking was too light. But above it was 'Journal' printed in large letters boldly in black ink. It looked to be about 50 years or so ago. "Could this possibly be before Number Zero, Number One's Father?" I mumbled, fascinated. Flipping the pages with the uttermost care, I read on, absorbed in the journal. There was an old story of the first female commander of knd, though it wasn't known as the knd at first. It was the Kids Rebellion.

Number One was my biggest hero, after he saved my little sister from being changed into a zombie-adult during the time when Number Zero was re-commissioned. Not to mention that I had always thought that he was . . . well, cute. I pushed the thought to the side for the moment, but I couldn't stop my face from turning a dusky pink. One day, I hoped to get the chance to meet him, and to thank him for everything. But that wasn't what I was concerned with now. The journal – the journal no one had yet discovered. But me. I began to devote my attention to it now.

June 21,
Today, the operatives at Kids Rebellion have been preparing for a counterstrike against the adults. We've tried in the past to hit the coffee houses of the adults with balloon air strikes, but alas, it is always withstood our attacks. So tonight, we're going to plan an internal operation – it could be dangerous, but my team from Sector Z was going to do it – the five of us along with the legendary zero himself. We were going to go in for it tonight, after the coffee stores shut down at nine tonight. But now, we must prepare.
Sector Z Leader Ashley

I gasped. The five Sector Z members that were permanently delightfulized by the evil Father. Here was their stories! This journal was their leader's journal! This had to be turned in as soon as possible – but the lure of the story was pulling me in – or rather, sucking me in. I leaned in, eyes widened as I read the words on the page for a second time to grasp everything. And then I noticed a marking directly underneath the Z. A stamped mark of a z inside of a circle, the z in a pretty, girlish cursive writing. Was this the symbol for Sector Z?
And even more, could this journal show exactly what happened to them - how they had been turned into the delightful children down the lane? What if there was a way to recommission them again – permanently? The pieces of the old camera-shaped converter were still in existence, it was merely broken. But could it be fixed? I knew some operatives were working on it in secret, but had they succeeded? I would have to go and ask a certain friend about it in the archives.
So, now I had a slight dilemma – to take the book with me, and risk someone seeing it or to leave it here. Could I disguise it somehow? I bit my lip and frowned. Well, maybe I could keep it out of sight somehow. . . I gathered a few books and tucked the old journal between them. I didn't want to turn it in just yet – there was so much more to learn from this book. And, if the other curators discovered it, I would never lay my hands on it again, I thought. So I headed towards the museum, the journal tucked safely out of sight. . .