A/N: This is it! The fanfic you've pretty much all been waiting for for about 3 or so months is here! I present to you...Hierarchy! This took a lot of work, music power, and muse to write (and I mean a LOT) and hopefully you guys enjoy it! My actual first fanfic in a long, long while - I don't really have the time to write much anymore, what with my personal life issues and work and such (and roleplaying - FeralFront is bae, yas). And I turned 18 today, so this is indeed my own birthday gift, to myself, that I'm sharing with you all!

So about this story: this is a fanfic the aftermath of O is Not For Over, or OINFO - it's basically a little continuation of it. I would highly suggest you watch the episode beforehand, for there are SPOILERS ABOUND this story and I don't want to be subject to any rage. This is also told from the Main 4's personal points of view, thus why there's "Olive" one chapter, and "Oscar" another.

Oh yeah, and the whole "bridge toll" thing was because of my misunderstanding of what was said in French - Ms. O was saying the "water is under the bridge", which is a saying for that they are on good terms, not that he was going to work as a bridge toll booth worker. (HAHA WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DON'T UNDERSTAND FRENCH I DOOOO I AM THE FRENCH-MASTER)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the show, the characters, or any of the companies that make this show...but then again that should be obvious.

OLIVE

My day had come. I was the true leader of Odd Squad.

However, I was not the only one.

Ever since Mr. O retired after 100 long years of leading the Odd Squad branch the next town over (I think he became some kind of toll booth collector or bridge monitor or something. Not sure), Ms. O asked me to take his place. I honestly had no idea why he didn't just pick one of his own agents, and I had laughed at that. It was kinda funny, that apparently the kid with the really offset laugh apparently didn't have any agents with good leadership skills.

So here I was in Mr. O's old office, hanging up artwork of jackalopes and rearranging things on my desk.

Odd Squad is a kid-run agency. Think FBI or CIA, then think about what it would look like if kids ran the show instead of adults. That's us. We fight odd crime using math power and gadgets, and we have tons of the latter. I counted once, out of sheer boredom. I think it was over a thousand.

Kidding, kidding. I'll leave the counting to the agents-in-training. They are intrigued by the littlest things, I swear.

We fight odd villains as well, such as a lady who uses teddy bears as weapons, a guy who believes in equality and equal numbers, and many many more that it would take years and years to list.

Not to mention him.

But he'll come later.

For now, I'm pretty content with eyeing the weird-looking Starry Nights painting with jackalopes. It actually does look pretty funny once you look at it hard enough. People say I don't have a sense of humor, which is somewhat true - really the only time I've ever laughed was that time my friend told me he hated Cleaning Day at Odd Squad. And I say, who shouldn't like Cleaning Day? I love when the dust gets in my nose and eyes and how it creeps all the way to my throat when I breathe it in; I love it, adore it. It's an incredible feeling. But all that aside, I'm more of the serious, stoic type. I like to think it's led me to where I am today.

"Hey, Olive?" I break free from my thoughts of Cleaning Day to turn my golden-brown gaze to my friend, the same friend who told me he didn't like Cleaning Day. With short black hair, brown eyes, and a similar outfit than mine sans the purple polka-dotted tie around his collar, he could be considered my co-leader of sorts.

Which he is.

"What is it, Otto?" My tone was exasperated. To lighten the mood (and break the silence in the office we both now shared), my 10-year-old ex-partner had been telling jokes nonstop for the past hour, and when he finally shut up after going to the bathroom and coming back into the office to continue his share of the setting-up, I thought I could have a moment of peace.

Boy, oh boy, was I ever WRONG.

"I need more pizza." he complained, stressing it as though it was as much of a life necessity as money. "Is there any in the Breakroom?"

"How would I know?" I gave a mere shrug in response as I hung up a painting of the Lopa Lisa. "Why don't you go down there and look?"

"But there are so many new agents! How am I going to present myself when people don't even treat me like an agent anymore and I don't even know any-"

"Then make some." Immediately I knew Otto was going to complain that he couldn't exactly make friends without everyone bowing down to him and calling him "Mr. O", which is the title one gets upon becoming a Director of an Odd Squad precinct, if you're a male. (For females, it's "Ms. O", which is what I am.)

That's why being a leader is hard: nobody treats you like you're normal. They treat you like the Prime Minister of Canada. Which, to put it bluntly, kind of sucks.

Otto - I call him that because we've been friends for a long while now and we've learned to trust each other over the years - sighed, gave up on his argument and headed out of the office and down the stairs to the Breakroom on his mad hunt for lunch. Naturally, Otto's very food-driven - he likes food and eats it so much, I can clearly see the pudge in his belly. It's not that big, but it's still somewhat noticeable - not that I'll ever voice it out loud. I think Agent Octavia pointed it out to me a few years ago when I was an agent, after I came back from a solo case and found Otto with ketchup all over his mouth and a half-eaten hamburger in his hands. I merely just rolled my eyes and went back to filing paperwork, not thinking much of it other than the usual "typical Otto" thought. But eventually, he found out what Octavia said to me - he got so offended, he went right up to Ms. O's office (in precinct #13579, mind you - Ms. O, or Oprah, was our boss back when we were agents working in her precinct), negotiated with her for five whole minutes, and she didn't give Octavia hugs for an entire week.

The catch is that Ms. O doesn't do hugs.

As I finished placing a framed picture of me and Otto on our desk, my co-leader and best friend returned with a large-size pizza. "You won't believe it! Omi gave me a greasy, hot pizza, in a large size!" Wacky thing, looked like he was about to soar in the air like a rocket and strike poses with fireworks and colorful backgrounds in back of him.

"That's nice." I gave a sniff, and as if on cue, my belly started to rumble. "I am getting kind of hungry." With that, I grabbed my Plate-inator from the never-ending Black Hole that was my back (but, in all seriousness here, what was even up with that? How odd), and fired it at our desk, creating two plates. Eagerly, I took a slice of pizza from the box, leaving Otto bewildered.

He gave a huff of amusement. I could hear him mutter "You weren't kidding." as I made my way over to the right-side couch and took a seat.

"You're darned right I wasn't kidding!" I took a bite, and swallowed before explaining, "I only had a blueberry muffin and orange juice for breakfast this morning."

"Was The Today Show nice?" I could see Otto out of the corner of my eye as he took a slice of pizza, put it on his plate, and headed over to the right-side couch to sit next to me.

Eventually, we just ended up talking about what was on the daytime talk shows and what was happening in the town, and as I playfully slapped Otto's hand after he tried taking his fifth slice, I realized something: our bond was stronger than ever now that we were co-leaders.

Too bad it didn't stay that way for long. I really liked the bond we had...