FINAL WARNING: The content you are about to receive is not for certain young operatives, nor is it an accurate representation of the source material of which it is from. It is, by all accounts, not canon. Read at your own discretion.
Written by [RESTRICTED] with properties owned by Tom Warburton and Cartoon Network.
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Codename: [RESTRICTED]
Operation: P.R.O.L.O.G.U.E. (Part 1)
Paraphrased
Recap
Of
Lost
Operatives
Growing
Up
Eventually
INCOMING TRANSMISSION...
Source: Unknown
They say that growing up is just a part of life, that eventually we all have to get older. Our youth fades. We can't be children forever. That's what they say, the Adults. There are few who actually know the truth, and those few are the ones who will lead us to revolution. Some say aging is a disease, spending hours and going miles to search for its cure. Others know better. Growing up is not just a disease, it's a psychosis, a mental complex that infiltrates your brain and contorts you until you fit into a box on a shelf. It cannot be cured with an elixir or a booster shot. It's a conspiracy, pitting human against human under the pretense of "experience" vs. "experimentation", "wisdom" vs. "innocence." And those who follow this path are destined to be torn apart at its seams. We live so that we may forget. We fight so that we may betray. And for every kid who can make it to the other side unscathed, there are a thousand others tossed into the rubble.
In the beginning, the Adults used their power to oppress kids, forcing them to do back-breaking labor in the tapioca factories. They made them sit in prison cells that brainwashed them into believing Adult propaganda. They shoved tasteless food down their throats and banned them from participating in executive decisions. The world was chaos. War and famine spread as the Adults' selfishness grew. In turn, the kids fought back, using the coveted "Book of KND" to aid them and their plight for freedom. The organization "The Kids Next Door" was built around this book. It was formed many times and forgotten many times, however no matter what hardships they faced, the kids always found a way to fight.
But still, children could not stop themselves from aging and turning into the very Adults whom they hated.
It was decided that no one over the age of thirteen could be allowed in the organization. So in 1999, after the Junior High Rebellion, a movement was signed stating that all operatives would be decommissioned after their thirteenth birthday. All memories of the Kids Next Door would be wiped clean from their minds. This kept the KND's secrets strictly hidden, but as a result, more and more former operatives joined forces with the Adults, no longer able to relate to their younger adversaries. Some, out of fear of decommissioning, betrayed the Kids Next Door in bitter resentment. Others left peacefully, but they would never remember their childhoods, their friends, or their cause.
However, there were few, the lucky few, who escaped this fate. They went on to keep their memories and work as spies of the TEENZ, the adolescent anti-kids organization, and depending on their performance, even continue on to spy on the Adults when the time came. These operatives known as the Teens Next Door were chosen because, according to the selection committee, they were the best of the best. They held the most experience, the most skill, and above all, the most passion. Playing villains to become heroes, they watched from the shadows, manipulating their way into the hearts of their enemies. Their lives were for the Kids Next Door. All they did, they did for them.
Abigail Lincoln was one such operative.
Abigail Lincoln was inducted into the KND as a young girl under the codename Numbuh 5. Trained by her older sister, Cree, she went on to be the official leader of sector V after Cree's eventual betrayal. However, after an accident involving one of the operatives on her team, she resigned the position to Nigel Uno. Uno was allowed into the program by Lincoln after she discovered that he hacked into the KND mainframe in order to change his entrance exam test scores. During his run as leader, sector V consisted of 5 operatives
SECTOR V: Circa 2002-2008
NUMBUH 5: ABIGAIL LINCOLN
Espionage and Second in Command
Teenage Status: Teens Next Door Representative
NUMBUH 4: WALLABEE BEATLES
Hand to hand combat and weapons expert
Teenage status: Decommissioned
NUMBUH 3: KUKI SANBAN
Diversionary tactician and medical specialist
Teenage Status: Decommissioned
NUMBUH 2: HOAGIE P. GILLIGAN JR.
2x4 Technology Officer
Teenage Status: Decommissioned
NUMBUH ONE: NIGEL UNO
Head Tactician and Sector Leader.
Teenage Status: Promoted member of the G:KND
Abigail took over the team after Nigel Uno joined the Galactic Kids Next Door, eventually moving on to the position of Soopreme Leader for her final year. She was the only one of the four remaining earth operatives to keep her memories. Any personal contact with her former teammates was strictly prohibited by the TND. Such contact would compromise her position as a spy within the organization.
She did have some friends however; fellow TND members who had gone through similar traumas. Maurice: Former Numbuh 9, was only a year older than Lincoln and was continuing his work on eliminating the chicken pox while working as a double agent. While it was nice to have someone to talk to, Maurice's mind was near constantly on his work. He didn't have much time to hang out with her as much as she would have liked. Many of the TND operatives were this way. They reminded her of Nigel, stubborn workaholics with little passion for anything outside of the Kids Next Door. Much of her actual social life was spent with the female members of the TEENZ, and even that was for undercover purposes. It was worth it, she told herself. After all, if she quit now she would lose everything, and the last semblances of her Sector V would disappear from the earth. So Abigail Lincoln spent her adolescent years trying to forget the past, her friends, her life, and the fact that she would never, ever, be a kid again.
This was the fate of the TND. This was the sacrifice she made. And this is her story: The true story of Sector V, The G:KND, and Nigel Uno.
Episode 1
March 19th, 2015
On that early morning, Abby awoke at the sound of her alarm. Her long black hair snaked around her in a messy braid. She groaned, stretching her arm over to the nightstand where her phone played an upbeat, but simple song. She thumbed around the wood, trying to find the device. She was beginning to regret not having set an actual alarm clock. Annoyed, she finally grabbed the phone from the desk and held it up over her head. Her eyebrows flattened. The time read 6:00am. Her finger swiped the screen, disarming the alarm with her security code. She plopped the phone back down on the bed, not even wanting to think about school that day. However, after staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, she finally resolved that there was no choice in the matter. Pushing herself off the bed, she tossed her legs over the edge, her black shorts sticking to her thighs. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the knots which twisted with its frizzy texture. She slid off the edge of the bed, grabbing a towel for her shower.
When she returned, there was a message on her cell phone. She looked at it with dismay. Twisting the towel over her hair, she listened to the message, hoping it wasn't urgent. She re-dialed the number, sitting down at the mirror. The phone sat between her ear and her shoulder. It rang twice before a boy picked up on the other end.
"Hey," he said in a deep voice. "I've been calling all morning. Where were you?"
Abby's face didn't change. She pulled out the nail clippers and stacked her toes on the dresser drawer. "Showerin'," Clip. Clip. Her toes flexed.
"I need a favor," he said quickly.
Abby nodded. "Talk to me."
She listened intently and gave him a simple word of confirmation before hanging up. She pulled the towel off of her hair. She slipped on a pair of looser blue shorts, a black mid-drift top and a pair of gold hoop earrings, which had become her signature look at school. She scurried down the stairs, braiding her hair as fast as she could. Her father sat at the stove, simmering something in a frying pan. He turned as he heard Abby come in the kitchen.
"Mornin', Sugar Plum!" he said in a cheery morning voice. "What'll it be? Poached or scrambled?"
But Abby shook her head. "Not today, Dad. I gotta go to the library before class." She plopped down on the tile floor, stuffing her feet into a pair of cowboy boots.
"Aww," he pouted. "You don't have time for breakfast with your old man?"
Abby stood up, running into the living room to grab her backpack. She shouted into the kitchen. "Sorry, Pop. Gotta keep those grades up."
Her dad grinned. "Look at my Girl! All grown up! With the school work and the college applications and the..." He blushed. "Oh, you know what I'm talkin' about."
"Don't worry. I'll eat on the way," Abby promised. She swung the backpack over her shoulder and started to head for the door. Arriving at the knob, she froze, a hand reaching toward the top of her head. She spun around on her heels, looking frantically all over the kitchen. She sprinted to the living room. There, sitting on the hat rack at the front door, was a worn, red baseball cap. Abby sighed with relief. She stretched the cap over her hair, wearing the brim in the back. With a grin, she sauntered back over to the kitchen.
Mr. Lincoln noticed the hat. "I'm surprised that still fits you." He chuckled. "Cree'll be happy to see you wearing it. Remember, she's comin' at seven. So don't stay out late tonight, okay?"
Abby pulled her bangs over the strap of her cap. "Yeah, gotcha." She ran over and pecked her father on the cheek. "See ya later."
She ran out the door, grabbing her black bike from the garage. She wasn't looking forward to seeing her sister. Cree had been off to college for three years. She was convinced that because Abby was now a teenager, they would have no more reason to fight. In reality, it only made Abby resist her company more.
McClintock High was a typical high school. The TEENZ were the popular kids, an exclusive group that harassed children for the sake of a joke. Their high middle-class status allowed them to flaunt their financial prowess, wearing the latest fashions and keeping up to date with celebrity news. They were mainly comprised of jocks and cheerleaders, student council and other positions of power within a typical high school structure. Because of this, the TEENZ reined supreme, even though for the most part they weren't very nice people.
Those who opposed this conformity were quickly outcasted along with the others who simply didn't meet their expectations. One student, Wallabee Beetles, had made it his life's mission to piss off the TEENZ as much as he could, fervently disagreeing with their social politics. He chose to do so by, in his words, "not giving two shits in a bucket" about them. And so Wally spent most of his time under the concrete steps leading to the high school, smoking still-illegal marijuana or jamming on his guitar in protest. That would show them.
That particular morning, Wally was late for class again. He decided briskly not to go as the rest of the kids filed out. He knew the system well enough to know if he strategically skipped different days throughout the week, no one would suspect he was gone. After all, it wasn't like he was going to learn anything in class anyway. He sat down under the stairs, drowning out the noise with his thick headphones.
Suddenly, the music stopped. Wally felt his ears, realizing that his headphones had been swiped clean off of them. They unplugged from his iPod, causing the music to blare out loud. Quickly, he hit the pause button. He turned around, growling with annoyance. He reached for his headphones but stopped when he realized who had snatched them. A girl stood, smiling at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She had full cheeks to compliment her large grinning mouth, which were almost always blushed with joy.
"Hey!" Wally shouted in his thick Australian accent, his face softening as he recognized the beaming grin. "There you are. I've been waitin' for ya."
"Really?" She glowed with excitement. "Aww. You didn't have to do that."
Wally blushed, scratching the back of his neck. "No reason to even go to school if you're not here." He watched the girl's smile grow even bigger, her white teeth now taking up half of her face. "And gimmie back my headphones!" He reached for them again, but the girl pulled them away.
"No way!" She shouted, teasingly putting them on her head and running up the stairs. "I'm keeping these!"
Wally followed in pursuit. "Kuki!" he shouted the girl's name, chasing after her. "Those were expensive!"
Kuki Sanban leaned over the concrete, looking down at her boyfriend. "Well, I might be convinced to part with them..." she bartered. "For a price."
"What do you want?"
"Your soul!" Kuki hissed, making a bad impression of a monstrous demons she saw on TV.
Wally leaned up against the swirling bannister. "You already took that a long time ago," he jeered.
"Jerk face." Kuki's cheeks turned pinker than usual.
Wally jumped over the bannister, looking at her in the face. "How about an offering?" He leaned into her, his lips sweetly touching hers.
She pulled away, a pensive look on her face. "Hm...impressive." She pretended to think. "But not enough."
Wally lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing back her silky black hair. He kissed her again, both hands holding her face. He slipped the headphones off of her head, putting them back around his own neck. They were almost at the point of a full-blown make out session when a magazine plopped itself between their lips. They pulled away from each other, sticking their tongues out in disgust from the inked paper.
"Hey!" Wally yelled.
"No public displays of affection!" a stern voice shouted in reply. Wally looked to see a hall monitor, Joe Balooka, holding the magazine. "You wanna jig, go find a dance hall!" he shouted. "Okay, people! Let's get movin'! Bell's about to ring!" He walked back up the stairs, suddenly jolting into a sprint. "Hey! you! Stop licking that water fountain!"
Wally rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ugh. I hate bloody Hall Monitors. I thought America was supposed to be the home of the free."
"He's just doing his job," Kuki explained.
"Yeah...it's still stupid." His eyes brightened again. "Anyway, check out this new album cover I made!" He jumped onto the concrete banister and slid down tot he bottom. He pulled a notepad out of his inside jacket pocket. Kuki gazed in awe at the swirling watercolors on the page. It didn't look like much of anything.
"Oooh! It's pretty!" she beamed. "So psychedelic!"
Wally grinned with pride. "Right?" he said, tilting his chin upward with an air of self-importance. "It's abstract."
Her eyes widened in amazement. "Wow."
"I know," he gloated as he clutched his chest. "That's part of bein' a tortured artist. Music is the only thing that truly gets how we really feel." Slipping his notebook back in his jacket, he kicked his legs over the side of the steps toward Kuki. "I already have a song written for it. It's called...Intolerance. I'll play it for you later tonight!"
"Aww. Can't you just play it for me right now? I wanna hear it!" She asked, pouting her lips.
Wally got a mischievous look on his face. "Well, if you really want to hear it, we could always..." He moved his pointer and middle finger across the air, simulating legs.
Kuki shook her head. "No, I have to stay for free period," she said still wearing her innocent smile. "We're having an extra practice before the pep rally."
Wally groaned, his face falling. "I can't believe you still associate with those pricks."
But Kuki took his hand. "I know you don't like it, but I can't give up cheering just like that." She smiled a determined smile. "That's letting the conformists win!"
Wally's face dusted pink. "W-well..." He used his other hand to scratch the back of his head. "If it makes you happy..."
The bell started to ring, ushering all of the students inside. Kuki kissed her boyfriend on the nose. "Time for class!" she said glowingly. "You're coming to the pep rally tomorrow, right?"
"I might show up," Wally shrugged. As she turned to go, he grabbed onto her hand tighter. "Kuki!" She peeked over her shoulder as Wally gave her a supportive smile. "Good luck."
He let go of her hand as she nodded in response. Watching her bound up the stairs was like a cup of coffee in the morning. It energized him, made him believe that he could be that happy if he tried. He lay back down on the banister, folding his arms over his head as a pillow. He smiled as the sun peeked over the clouds, filling the air with a warm light. Despite being a total bummer, life was pretty sweet.
Abby shook her head, clutching her Anatomy and Physiology book in her arms. The meeting she had been called to was a false alarm. It was just a group activity where catty girls and sex-crazed boys sat around and tried to make idle conversation, usually at someone else's expense. The TEENZ hardly ever actually made plans nowadays. They would get together and gossip about other people at the school, maybe talk about who they were seeing and who they were fucking on the side. Abby didn't care for any of that. She knew going to the meeting would be a complete waste of time, but it made her feel better to know she wasn't missing anything crucially important. If the TEENZ had planned something and she didn't pick up on it, the results would be catastrophic.
She stopped at the door to her classroom, her eyes catching a pair of brown large brown tennis shoes. They backed up a few inches, letting her through.
"S-sorry," a voice murmured. Abby looked up to see a boy standing in front of her. He was big, with broad shoulders like a football player's. His blue jeans were worn and baggy, his hair stuffed into a grey beanie that matched his grey and blue hoodie. His large hands gripped tightly to the straps of his backpack as the light flashed over his rimless glasses, hiding his eyes from her. He turned his head, avoiding her gaze.
Abby forced herself to smile. "Nah, Man. It's cool. Go on ahead." She tried to stop her voice from quivering, but it had become a challenge.
He nodded once, pushing his glasses up from the end of his nose. "Thanks." He walked by her to the classroom. Abby felt the muscles in her cheeks relax as her smile disappeared. She clutched her book tighter. Swallowing hard, she opened the door and walked into the room, taking her seat in the third row from the front.
The teacher, Mrs. Prageeta, was a stoutly Indian woman with a pronounced nose and a wide, welcoming smile. After about twenty minutes of lecture, however, her enthusiasm would dull to a content eyebrow raise, and twenty more minutes later, into a flattened pout. There was nothing she could do to keep the students invested and thus had given up quite some time ago. The students themselves came in many capacities, some ready and eager to learn, others sneaking texts on their phones or posting instagram messages on how bored they were.
Abby often sat quietly and took notes, her assigned seat perfectly positioned in the room so that she could be seen by the teacher if she wanted to answer a question, but not so in the forefront that she would draw unnecessary attention to herself. She was a mindful sort of student, one that kept to herself but often had the correct answer when someone was looking for it. The only unfortunate things about her seat were those placed around her. To the right, a boy, Jimmy, with duck fluffed hair, a turned up nose, and a propensity toward speaking out of turn, often bit on his pencil, consumed in what he believed was deep, complex thought. If there was a question asked, make no mistake that it would be Jimmy Richards would be the first person to answer it, correct or not. To her left, another boy, Tony, would bite on his own pencil and try desperately to keep up with the material that clearly moved way too fast for his comprehension. Abby would try to help him, but found it difficult to make conversation with the guy as he was too nervous that he would say something offensive and she would think he was a racist. However, it was not the two boys sitting beside her that gave her the most trouble, but the one sitting behind.
The boy was not a bother to her. In fact, he never said a word to her. Typically, Abby could get through the day without even remembering he was there, so long as she kept at her work. However, today she had the misfortune of running into him in the hall and had made the mistake of moving her eyes up past the laces of his shoes. As soon as she made it to her seat, a sinking feeling settled into her stomach. Most days, she could avoid thinking about Hoagie P. Gilligan Jr. Most days he would just be a boy who sat behind her in her Anatomy and Physiology class, the way he was meant to be.
Today was not most days.
The TND had made a special effort so that Abby would not have to interact with any of her old teammates on a regular basis. There were exceptions to this, of course, the most notable being grueling school assemblies. This year, for the first time in many, they had made a calculation error and were forced to place Abby in the same class as former operative Numbuh 2 of Sector V. Though the leader of the TND McClintock branch insisted that this was a terrible idea, in the end there was nothing that could be done as both needed another science credit to graduate high school on time. Both had already taken Chemistry and Biology, albeit in different classes, and neither had the math requirement to take Physics, it being a senior-level class. The best the TND could do was persuade the teacher not to let them sit in a way that they could both see each other at the same time.
Hoagie, of course, was oblivious to this fact. He would spend much of the class periods scribbling notes, brushing off pencil shavings and occasionally muttering to himself about one thing or another. Today, Abby was especially locked on his behavior, not being able to tear her mind away from her curiosity. He sniffled, adjusting his glasses to see the nonsense he had just written in a clearer view. The TND had planned so meticulously that there was no casual way to catch a glimpse at him, not one that he wouldn't notice. Yet, he was close enough that every little sound he made bounced off of her like a springboard. Still, it was better than before, she had to admit, when she sat behind him in a similar awkward position, when her eyes would drift over to him and linger there for entire periods on end, wondering.
Prageeta took out sheets of paper. "Alright, class. Put your binders and books under your desk."
Abby flinched as everyone groaned with complaint. Another pop quiz. It would be the last one before the test next Thursday. Hoagie did not groan, but quietly did as instructed. It seemed he was prepared. Abby snapped herself out of her daze. She had her own quiz to worry about. She took the pile of white slips and passed them along the line. She cringed at the bold letters written on the top:
THE LIMBIC SYSTEM
Irony had a funny way of coming in and making life miserable for everyone. She answered the questions, all in order, all correct, and all at a pretty good clip. She was about three from the end, explaining the function of the hippocampus, when she heard a screech coming from behind her. It was the irritating sound of a chair being pulled out and dragged along the floor, rather than being picked up. She turned around, like the others in the class, to see Hoagie walking up to turn in his quiz, first of anyone. This was new for him, she noted. Usually, he waited until most other quizzes and tests were turned in before he reported his own. She knew this because he liked to doodle on his quizzes little molecular compounds and rocket ships, which she could always see on the back when Prageeta handed back papers. She didn't know why he did this, but found it a bit of a relief.
Abby couldn't help it. Her eyes followed him down the row, up to the teacher. They broke away as soon as he came back the other way and Abby realized that he would have probably been very disturbed if he caught her looking. She finished her quiz, keeping her eyes firmly on the floor as she turned it in at the front. Prageeta seemed worried by this, but said nothing. The rest of the class had five more minutes to complete their quiz...which meant the next five minutes were nothing but silence. Well, almost silence.
Scribble scribble...grunt. Sniff. Scribble. Wipe. Stack. Grunt. Crumple. Wrong.
There was a great sigh behind her, one heavy with anticipation and frustration. Then the process would repeat.
Scribble. Wipe. Scribble, no. Scrub. Grunt. What? Crumple. Repeat. Crumple. Tear. Shit. Grunt. Scribble. Sniff. Wait. Crumple. Ugh.
Most people would wonder at this point what the poor kid was doing with all of these scribbles. Unfortunately, Abigail knew exactly what he was doing and was not looking forward to it. Not in the slightest.
At long last the bell rang for second period and the students raced out of the room in order to make it out in time. Abby stood up, picked up her book and notebook and pushed in her chair. She turned around to see Hoagie, still scribbling away at his notebook. She bit her lip, standing there for a while to see if he would notice. He didn't.
"Hey," she said, trying to sputter out words. She hadn't really spoken to him beyond a few sentences since the day before her thirteenth birthday. There was no answer. Abby stiffened. "Hey, Nerd." Still nothing. Abby thought for a moment. "Mr. Gilligan?"
Hoagie's head shot up, his notebooks falling off the desk. "Huh?" His glasses were lopsided on his face.
Abby smiled. "Hi."
He blinked. "H-Hi?"
"Class is over."
Hoagie looked around, as though he too were in a fog of some kind before shooting out of his chair. "Shit!" He went to grab his books from the bottom of the desk. His frantic gesture caused him to trip and fall onto the tile floor of the room.
"Need help?"
"What? No. I'm g-YOW!" He banged his head on the top of the desk, seething in air as to not draw attention to himself. "I'm good."
Abby bent down anyway, noticing a small red flash drive that had tumbled out of an open slot in his pocket. She picked it up. "This yours?" she asked. Hoagie was too busy scooping up the papers that had fallen out of his book to listen. Then, her eyes got a glimpse of one of the notebooks in his backpack. Her mouth hung open as she read aloud the words. "...Memory loss..."
That caught Hoagie's attention. "Hey!" He pulled his pack closer to him. "Don't look in my backpack!"
"Sorry." Abby held the flash drive out to him. "Abby found this on the floor."
Hoagie flushed pink, taking the device. "Oh. Thanks." He looked embarrassed for some reason, something beyond just the normal humiliation of dropping your things all over the floor.
Abby stood, picking up her book and notebook. "Sure thing, Numbu-" She bit her tongue.
"What?" he asked. Abby couldn't find anything to say. Six years of not speaking and she had nothing to say. She felt like a jerk. "S-s-sorry about snapping. It's just that notebook is for my science fair project and...you're..." He shook his head, slipping on his backpack and standing up. He averted his eyes from her once more. "Anyway, thanks. I'll, uh, just...yeah. Bye." He walked briskly out the door where Prageeta gave him a soft goodbye, which he ignored.
Abby caught a glimpse of something on the ground. "Hey! Hold up!" She grabbed the paper, chasing after him. "You dropped-" He couldn't hear her in the cacophony of bustling students. Curiosity got the better of her. She flipped over the page to see what looked to be a series of doodles and figures, along with scribbles of notes:
MEMORIES ARE NOT PHOTOGRAPHS developing photographic memory (hehe) PAST-memories. Empty. TRAUMA. proper explanation. MeMORIES LOST Temporary. Childhood-empty. Impact? Hypnosis? Repression = trauma = hypnosis.
Hypnosis: To access memory, traumatic repressed, hypnotism to repress/derepress memory. PTSD - RAPE VICTIMS - ABUSE - WAR - MEMORIAL FLEXIBILITY
Memory = flexibility probability increased to 33.333%
Abby's jaw hung for a moment, taking in the notes very carefully. She held her breath. Hoagie was studying memories? But why? She turned the paper over, before the spark of hope could ignite. Just then, she saw someone coming out of the corner of her eye and quickly tried to stuff the paper in a pocket, which she realized all to soon she did not have.
"Abby!" He had noticed her. She quickly stuffed the paper into her book and clutched it tightly to her chest. He sauntered over to her, his hands cooly slipped into his pockets. It was Maurice. "Hey. Thanks for covering for me this morning. You really saved my ass." He peered at her, with his usual warm smile. He was an attractive man to most, with a built body and easy eyes. His long black dread locks were pulled into a ponytail, nearly half the length of Abby's own hair. It wasn't long before he realized that she was neither listening nor looking at him. Instead, her eyes had once again found the back of Hoagie's head in the bustling crowd. She enticingly watched the grey spot bob up and down amongst the others until it was slammed against a locker. Maurice frowned. "Abby," he tried again, this time getting her attention.
She did not look startled to see him. "What? Abby's listenin'." She said this, and then proceeded to look off into the crowd, but could not locate what she was looking for.
Maurice sighed. "Anything to report?" he said, impatiently. There was no response. "Abby!"
"No! Nothin'!" She snapped back. "Why you keep yellin' at me?"
But Maurice crossed his arms. "Because you're not paying attention." She was quiet again. Maurice, having known Abby since she was very young, knew she was not much of a talker in general. However, he knew when even she was being too quiet. "Did something happen in class today?"
"No," came her direct answer. She was a good liar, but Maurice was a better judge. She knew she wasn't going to be able to hide it for long and the look on Maurice's face was indicating that he was not buying any of her bullshit today. "He's..." she began. Maurice's eyebrows raised. "Studyin' memories." She pulled out the paper and handed it to him. "For the science fair."
"Jesus Christ," he grumbled as he took the paper. "You talked to him?"
"Only a little," Abby admitted.
"I can't even read this chicken scratch," he complained, squinting at the sloppy handwriting.
Abby flushed, snatching the paper out of Maurice's grip. "It ain't meant for you to read!"
"Where did you get this?"
"It fell on the floor."
"You can't just take this stuff, Abby!" he snapped. "What if somebody sees you with it?"
"I was gonna give it back!"
"That's even worse!" Maurice's voice was beginning to raise. He exhaled and took the paper back from Abby. "I'll give it to Vic. She may be able to decipher its contents."
Abby's face softened. "I think he's tryin' to recover his memories."
Maurice folded the paper up and stuffed it in his pocket. "That's impossible. There's no way a decommissioned operative would even have the sense to do such a thing."
"But he-"
"Operatives with no memories don't know what they are missing. They aren't like us, Abby. They only have what they know. They don't miss their other lives at all..." He looked at her with a pitiful expression. "And the less they do know, the better."
Hoagie's face was a bright pink as he skidded down the hall to his American History class. He screwed up. No one was supposed to see his work this year, especially not a TEEN. Thankfully, she hadn't seen enough to know the extent of what he was doing. He was safe, for now. He managed to slow his pace, arriving close to the door where his next class was to be held. Still, something nagged at him. Hoagie Gilligan didn't like Abigail Lincoln. He didn't like any of the TEENZ. They were all bullies who picked on people they saw as beneath them for their own amusement. What was worse was their main target would often be children, who had no way of defending themselves either physically or intellectually. Anyone who treated those smaller then them with so much disdain was not someone Hoagie wanted to be associated with. So why she had tried to help him that day, he could not wrap his brain around.
His personal vendetta against the TEENZ began his freshman year of high school when the group taunted his little brother, Tommy. More often than not, Tommy deserved to be teased for dressing up in ridiculous costumes and pretending to be a vigilante, but these people were relentless. That was also the first year the vandalisms started happening. He clutched the flash drive. Every year Hoagie would enter the science fair, only to find all of his hard work trashed and the data stolen weeks before the presentation. He knew it was the TEENZ who did it, and had been extra careful this year not to let anyone, not even teachers, know what he was working on.
This was the year, he thought. He would finally win.
The cheerleaders met for practice every day after class, with the exception of pep rally preparation, which they added an extra practice during free period. Kuki had been on the squad since she was recruited in middle school and her enthusiasm for the sport only grew. Undoubtedly, she was the most peppy of them all, always coming to practice with a large smile on her face. Today was no exception.
The other girls waited impatiently for her to put on her uniform. Finally, she ran out, pom-poms in hand. She raced over to the center of the gym, holding her pom-poms close to her chest. She shook her hair, letting out a loud neigh!
"Hello, McClintock High!" She shouted, her eyes sparkling as she ran to greet the invisible audience. "Are you ready?"
A tall, brunette girl crossed her arms. "Um. What are you doing?"
Kuki blushed, her cheeks lifting into her eyes. "I'm getting the crowd pumped up!" she exclaimed, not missing a beat.
Another girl on the squad rolled her eyes. "What crowd? Nobody's here."
"Sanban," the Brunette said. "Mascots don't talk." She pouted her lips, as though she were talking to a young child. "You understand that, right?"
Kuki nodded, ruffling her pom-poms in her hand. She had been the school Mascot for the McClintock Chargers for three years after no one else applied for the position. She had given the school a more feminine touch with her take on the horse, wearing bright red extensions in her hair and a flexible jumpsuit after the original costume mysteriously disappeared. She won two state mascot competitions and placed fifth in nationals. Everyone in McClintock knew the Charger, whether they cared about sports or not. Still, despite all of her success, she missed actually cheering with her voice.
"I know," she finally replied. "But I was thinking-"
"Okay then," the Brunette smiled. Her name was Sandra, the cheer squad captain. She took her finger and drew a line over her lips.
"Sandie..." one of the cheerleaders groaned. "C'mon. We gotta start."
Sandra nodded, ushering Kuki to her corner. The cheer squad got into position, doing a series of floor cheers before setting up for the occasional lift. When it was Kuki's turn to interact with the squad, they would call her over with a whistle and mark out the steps that they would do full-out on the day of the rally. Kuki felt like this wasn't the safest way to go about things, but she never said anything about it. She didn't want to get on worse terms with the cheerleaders and lose her Mascot job.
The practice let out early. The cheerleaders left, gossiping about people Kuki didn't know and gushing over movies she had never seen. In the old days, she would try and follow them and make conversation, but she knew better now. She stayed until the last squad member, Vicki, was finished putting away the pom-poms. Kuki changed out of her outfit, locking it up in the gym's storage facility. She scanned the empty gym, a melancholic energy washing over her.
She closed her eyes, imagining a crowd full of people cheering. The score is 32 to 32 with ten seconds left on the buzzer. McClintock sits at the edge of its seat as their star player, Trace Donoghue, dribbles the ball up the court. Six seconds...five...Donoghue takes the shot. The ball soars up into the air, catching on the rim of the basket. 3...2...It circles around. Will it go in? Whooosh! The ball lands in the basket right as the buzzer goes off! The crowd goes mad! The cheerleaders wave their pom-poms and scream! Everyone has a huge smile on their face.
Kuki grinned, the scene vivid in her mind. "Fight! Fight! Fight! For McClintock High!" She sang. "Fight to Victory!" She elevated herself onto her toes, getting a running-start. Springing off of the ground, she ran into a front hand spring, sticking the landing and sliding her legs into a full split. "Go Chargers!" She laughed, her cheeks reddening as she lived the moment.
Suddenly the crowd quieted. The heat escaped from the room, leaving Kuki alone in an empty gymnasium. She lowered her hands, moving out of her straddled position. It wasn't until the bell started to ring that she finally realized she had to leave. She brushed the dust off of her dress, taking one last look around before heading for the door. Her breath was caught in her throat.
She could never be a cheerleader again. She knew that much. But as long as she had a gym, she would never stop cheering.
TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED...
