A/N: This chapter mentions the fic Shatter Me, which is 362's origin story for this canon. It's an optional read.
History is written by the victors.
I never realized the impact of those words until now. It may even be the absolute truth. Who's to say down the line that the Kids Next Door will always remain on the right side of history?
There was never a moment where my mind can just 'shut off' like others. It was always constantly thinking; always planning on gaining the upper hand. She often noted this, but I never gave it much thought. Ironic, isn't it?
Maybe this was why I was chosen. There were so many variables to think about; always an unfinished tangent that needed to be solved. It reflected in my command and in turn ran an efficiency that hadn't been seen in this organization since Numbuh Zero himself.
When the opportunity to go further than the limit revealed itself, I hadn't thought twice before I accepted. Maybe I should have.
It never escaped me that I should have thought much more about taking Infinity's hand but, like history, only the victors can rewrite it now.
And I've known for a long time that I wasn't meant to be a hero or a victor.
It was to be four days of this desperation. Four entire days of this flickering darkness; darkness that was the natural enemy of nearly half of his operatives. It caused a mild mass hysteria in the aftermath.
Weeks after Numbuh 362's promotion as his XO, her former job as Head of Operations had been vacant and he was foolish enough to trust the brass up top. Their newest recommendation birthed itself through favoritism than actual worth.
The new HO, who was more familiar with handling a weapon than filing paperwork, ended up causing all sorts of bureaucratic hell for Moonbase. Sectors on Earth turned into a scramble trying to decode the wrong transmissions and the scheduling had been so chaotic entire sectors had to be ground to a halt to avoid any further complications.
The backlog was so bad even Numbuh 3 ended up rolling her sleeves and organized two important hamster vet screenings without a hiccup, no pun intended, which earned her an accolade for going above and beyond the bureaucratic order.
When you're getting one upped by Kuki Sanban of all people, perhaps it was high time for a demotion.
Numbuh 274 was still receiving complaints about the scheduling conflicts by the end of the week. Sector C threatened a week long walk off after flying three of their best squads to Australia when orders meant for them to head for Austria.
Cultural differences aside, the Chinese Kids Next Door had no patience for ineptitude. That reflected upon their Supreme Leader who let the monstrosity that was Numbuh 1678 in charge of Operations.
Before he could order Numbuh 362 to either fire 1678 or tutor him before disaster struck, they were too late to salvage now dubbed the Hamster Holiday Clustershuck.
Instead of rotating the days for each sector of hamsters, Operations had somehow scheduled them for a vacation by continent instead of countries. Not only was every sector plus Moonbase ended up drastically short on power, but Sector J ended up overrun by partying rodents.
"Is it too late to convert to water power?" he had groaned on his throne by the end of the first day of darkness. The massive headache crept between his eyebrows when the loud emergency generator died for the eleventh time today. Panicked department heads with important tasks continued to arrive in droves to further complain about the lack of power, so Numbuh 274 diverted all inquiries to Numbuh 74.239, who should be in charge of power conservation, not him.
His personal assistants were close to a mental breakdown themselves dividing up Numbuh 362's duties as XO. She was still deep within the bowels of pocket protectors and unnecessary paperwork desperately helping to pick up the slack and no doubt wishing she didn't take the promotion as they sufficiently destroyed all her hard work down there.
If he hadn't received periodic communications from her within the last couple of hours, he would have already assumed that she had drowned in the aftermath. Fortunately, it was not the case, but he penned a note of grieving for next of kin beforehand just in case.
She didn't think it was funny when he told her about it during their short lunch together.
The overhead lights on the command deck kept flickering in an uneven cadence with the pounding in his head. Efficiency was key to his success; to see his tight base limping due to bureaucratic oversight made him gnash his teeth together. His commands were even devolving the longer he was on deck. He spent his last minutes on shift snapping his orders to his already tired PA's and he couldn't even muster the energy to apologize for it like usual.
The complainers evened out as night fell on the American eastern seaboard. Numbuh 274 rubbed the bridge of his nose and silently thanked Zero for putting most of the adult villains out on holiday; it was a secret courtesy of KND Intelligence of course. Moonbase was practically limping with this lack of power and the Arctic Base went silent a few hours ago to conserve energy. Any attacks made now from their enemies would be their disadvantage.
According to Sector J, in their usual tardiness with reporting, the hamsters refused to return to their posts until their long deserved vacation completed. That pushed their schedules further back and 274 ordered free shuffleboard coupons for the vacationing villains to stretch them through the week.
It was already 2400 by the time he his shift ended. By protocol, he had to remain on the floor until the Moonbase was in its optimal state, which wouldn't be for quite some time, but even their Chief Medical Operative ordered him off for sleep. Before closing down the main comm, he had received reports that things down in Operations were tentatively getting reorganized. Apparently they had been crying and running around before 362 arrived and cracked that infamous whip of hers to get them back on track.
He allowed himself a smirk. Numbuh 362's patented 'cold compassion' now at official use as an XO. He almost wished he were there to see it.
Still, the lack of power also meant Moonbase had to be generous funneling their emergency generators of gerbils, which meant high-security floors like KND Intelligence's Archives had to be powered down in intervals to share the small wealth. And, rather curious at what dirt the folks upstairs dug up about him, he took his mandatory break to visit when the power traded off to the Hot Labs.
And boy did they have the dirt on him. There were even vid shots of him harmlessly flirting with a bunch of engineers from two years ago. With a grimace, he closed the picture of himself wearing the stupid Boy Scout uniform he wore back in the day and spent the next hour looking through many files.
Numbuh 1 almost had an entire filing cabinet in his honor but 274 found himself too lazy to look through it. Some were even tedious like transaction records of every Yipper card Numbuh 57 traded with or how many times Numbuh 10 brushed her hair on Tuesdays.
He had to admit they were awfully thorough. The Archives were little less like a room but an entire floor filled with bookcases and filing cabinets dating back to Zero itself. Many a cadet got lost navigating the winding stacks of information; some even rumored to never escape alive.
Maybe such fears were intentional. Only specialized operatives could use full clearance of the Archives. The top brass barely had access to almost thirty percent of whatever behind lock boxes and vaults. Even his own authorization as Supreme Leader had its own limit.
Such a place often intimidated him. He just had no control over what really went on here.
His idle search reached a dead end when he went looking for Numbuh 362's hard copy, which was nonexistent. Numbuh 361 and 363 were there as clear as day in the filing cabinet, but her's was vacant, as if the number didn't exist at all.
Then it hit him. Operatives both active and former from Intelligence wouldn't keep a hard copy in the archives. It would be too easy of a security breach.
The true cache of information rested in the Archive computer, which logged anything and everything save a few decades after Zero's reign. It was because such technology didn't exist back to plug in what went on during that era, which disappointed many KND curators in his career.
He found pulling up her file on the Archive computer was impressively difficult. Sometimes the entire computer would flicker off due to the power shortage; other times it tried to phish him into a fake database. He was much too tired to play games and cheated.
Out of his pocket, he popped in the USB bypass Infinity had given him and the security dissolved like the unwrapping of a present.
Rachel McKenzie. Codename Numbuh 362. Blah, blah, blah, he's read this file before.
Further down, however, there was more detailed information about her that hadn't been on the hard copy Infinity gave him. Drawing on little memory, there were plenty of omissions not found in his own copy. The strange detailed things like the monthly status of her mental health and even a psychic evaluation percentage; these things shouldn't be standard practice for any KND physical but there it was.
It seemed like the espionage operatives took a different test than the normal ones.
According to the psych reports, Numbuh 362 had consistently proved sufficient in withstanding outside mental influences including hypnosis, visual brainwashing, and/or psychic attacks (there was a notable citation below making an example of Father's shadow powers). ESP Counselor Numbuh 13-007 encouraged a theory that being completely psy-null and a mix of emotional suppression had made 362 an optimal buffer from corruption compared to the rest of her Sector.
"A perfect manifestation of a wall against the unknown," he murmured.
Psy-null. Emotional suppression. None of these sounded like they got compiled by a teenager let alone a younger operative from Intelligence. He sat back and wondered just how far Intelligence went and what they subjected their operatives to. They were the only ones outside of the Supreme Leader's jurisdiction.
All suspicious thoughts left him the further he read on. Typical things like a synopsis of her home life and a list of her schooling caught little his attention until he almost missed an attachment while scrolling down.
They shipped her off to a mental institution prior to her induction into the KND Academy.
His blue eyes widened and as if in a mad trance, he buried himself into the origin of who she was; who she would become as a KND agent.
There were clips of newspapers of the event in question which seemed to be what drew the recruiters to the stoic second-in-command. The adult journalists cited McKenzie as 'unhinged' which wasn't surprising. She had assaulted a group of model teenagers for no reason at all.
KND's version of events added more splash of color to the headlines. An operative no longer active released a testimony about his little sister attached to the altercation. She was robbed of her lunch money from these 'model' teenagers.
McKenzie's reaction was startling, almost exaggerated. With her bare hands she tore through those teenagers like they were paper despite having no experience with fist fighting. She also had no prior history of trouble making and was even a model student at her old academy, with Father as their notorious benefactor.
But the way it happened hardly made any sense. How was she able to take all of them down with no prior experience in fighting? The only viable witness, six year old Lily Sanders, recounted how easily McKenzie had throttled them.
"It was almost as if they moved in a way she could hurt them the most. I don't know how to really describe it. It was scary and I don't remember too much. Can I go home now?"
It left him more questions than answers. However, he had found a vital piece to her puzzle. McKenzie had been a delightfulized child; one of those poor tomatoes sent to a specialized academy and organically grown to discourage the color of childhood and embrace the grayness of adulthood early.
Children are to be seen, never heard. That was the credo of The Delightfully Gifted Academy of Science and Arts.
The KND had closed down two of those schools, but it was a hopeless endeavor; one that took too much time and resources to destabilize. Even more so, reteaching an indoctrinated child the wonders of being a kid again produced few success stories. Most were just too far gone to come back to the light of optimism, forever lost as emotionless husks without joy or wonderment.
It had been Father's true magnum opus. It still was.
The way Numbuh 362 acted as if she were an android with no understanding of human emotions made more sense now. And yet, it didn't slake his thirst for knowledge. No, it made things even more worse.
He didn't want to continue reading on, so he glanced at a few things here and there. After McKenzie snapped, they sent her to the nuthouse re-indoctrinate her, which made chances of saving her even more bleak. Did they snuff out that flickering light permanently? He didn't know, but he wanted to.
The file showed that when Cree was still an operative, she was tasked to find McKenzie and break her out. The KND offered asylum for that cool intellect McKenzie had been capable of and as they say, the rest was history.
History is written by the victors.
For the first time in his life, he was undecided. Everything had made sense, and it was even more confusing. He sat back in his chair and ended up staring at the screen for a good long while just wondering what to do with this precious cache of information. Should he feel pity? Anger? Confusion?
Or maybe he could feel them all at once.
What would be her true nature then if she hadn't had her childhood ripped from her so early in her life? Would she have truly been a normal girl of appropriate age? Would she have smiled, laughed, or even cried? He couldn't imagine and maybe that too was a tragedy.
He thought about her strange coldness or the way she went off on Numbuh 86 in a coiled ball of out of control flame.
She knew this; she knew of what she was and there was nothing she nor anyone could do to fix it. Her passiveness was both a gift and a curse; it reigned that temper in because it was a product of oppression and the ultimate answer for her heightened emotions.
At what cost, he wondered. Why bother living when you were forced to feel nothing at all?
He understood now why Infinity recommended her. Damaged goods wasn't exactly his favorite type of girl. It made them too relatable; it made him too attached, so he usually avoided them. Most girls are hardly worth the effort to fix in his line of work. He had enough problems running the KND itself.
It was a win-win all things considered. Numbuh 362 didn't seem the type to let anyone in and would actively avoid seeking people like him out to heal her wounds. That was just fine by him. It wasn't his job anyway to fix someone else.
That didn't mean he didn't feel like a jerk about it. Chad downloaded the rest of her file to his flash drive and then turned off the Archive computer.
He reveled in the dimness of the power-starved area wishing he never found his XO's unabridged history.
Why sugar? Chad found himself hip deep in a sea of black syrup with no end in sight. He tested the viscous liquid by trying to move and found it difficult to put one foot forward.
No matter how hard he tried to squirm, he just couldn't pull out of the syrup. That was when he looked on and found his XO with her back to him above the syrup and walking away.
"Hey!" he shouted for her attention. "I'm stuck!"
She didn't turn around and kept walking, but she had to stop soon. The syrup ended over the plane to nothingness.
He grabbed one of the giant floating waffles that sludged on by and tried to use the momentum to move him quicker through the syrup to catch up with her. "Numbuh 362!" he shouted again. "Don't go that way!" But no matter how hard he tried gain speed, it was almost as if she were going two steps faster.
Before she could fall over the ledge and into a syrupy oblivion, the harsh beeping of his onboard computer startled him awake.
It is now 0200, Supreme Leader Numbuh 274. Global Tactical Officer Numbuh 362 is in the vicinity towards the executive rooms.
He sluggishly took off the covers and examined the view-screen. Numbuh 362 looked much more closed off than usual when he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. But the way she moved looked human for once.
Despite looking dour as usual, 274 was a master at hiding exhaustion, and he knew the tell-tale signs that gave it away. The way her perfectly straightened shoulders slumped forward just a fraction and the speed of her walk was twenty percent slower than usual revealed her weakness.
She maintained this facade, knowing she would truly find solace and rest once the door and world beyond closed to her.
He didn't know why but he neglected any further sleep by retreating from the room and catching her. It felt as if once she disappeared into one of those rooms, she would never come back out again.
Maybe the discovery of her file ignited something within him, he didn't truly know.
He introduced himself by reaching behind her and holding the door to her quarters shut before she could key in the sequence. She blinked in confusion at his hand pressed against the steel frame and followed his wrist and arm until they locked eyes once more.
Time always seemed to slow when this happened. Like wading through molasses, every step was slow but deliberate between the two of them. He understood why to an extent now.
No, maybe it wasn't molasses. Syrup.
"Commander?" she inquired softly.
"After you wake up or something, want to play a round of competitive Yipper?" he answered her question with his own. He had done his homework; her file mentioned her proficiency in competitive Yipper. She had won regional tournaments playing under a pseudonym, a common thing for girls to do to avoid harassment from entitled male players.
She wouldn't keep playing the game and going to tournaments if she didn't find a natural enjoyment for it.
Maybe that was his ulterior motive all along. He wanted to see if she can light up like a real kid. Even under the indoctrination, there had to have been a glimmer remaining there; it had to be something the KND had to have seen else they wouldn't have bothered recruiting her.
She stared at him for a long while before answering, her words hesitant. "Why?"
He had flinched, not exactly expecting the word. They weren't friends; they haven't really talked to each other outside of work in the past few weeks of her as his XO. So why?
Her dark eyes seemed reserved and strangely wary. Like no one had ever asked her for something so personal; so social.
Damaged, he had to remind himself. His lip curled from the dropping feeling in his gut. He opened his mouth, ready to change his mind and say 'nevermind, go do your thing' and it would be so easy to walk away, go back to sleep, and just forget it.
But she looked so worried, so unsure of his offer. She might have even believed that he was teasing her and was waiting to take the humiliating blow like the soldier she was.
The dismissive words died on his lips.
When had he ever hesitated? He charged forward, taking rightful control of his destiny. "Well, my XO needs a break from that clustershuck Operations turned into. It's logical and it... helps foster a better working relationship or something."
Those pale lips parted in surprise and her eyes, for the first time today, seemed alight with something called life.
The walk to recovery was of syrup, but a single step was made. That unmistakable drop in his gut which had been a product of what happened earlier today in the Archives fluttered. She had never looked at him with such openness until now.
He could easily shatter that openness with a sneer that would have send her retreating. Instead he gave her a stupid smile and if he had blinked, he would have missed the way her eyes squinted trying not to laugh.
Eventually the spark of light in her eyes dimmed into that unfathomable darkness when she composed herself and tentatively nodded. "Will you give me a few hours of rest?"
He had never felt so restless before in his life. It was as if they were playing Jenga and she was effortlessly pulling at all the blocks he carefully constructed, challenging him to keep everything from crashing down.
Sleep was lost to him so he reorganized his quarters. He even lowered the temperature to the specifications of her own.
When he cut his hand moving the sharp coffee table around sense returned to him. Cursing, he ran his hand under the faucet and wondered why he was tripping all over himself trying to make things comfortable for her. What was he thinking?
No, he knew exactly what he was doing. This was why he didn't personally deal with broken people. There were too many variables; too many chances of breaking an already brittle relationship.
He'd rather charge forward than walk a tightrope. The desire to fix things had always been a weak point for him.
Abandoning all pretenses of providing a haven for his XO, he instead worked at setting up the game he should have done an hour ago.
No one had truly beat him at competitive Yipper. Many of his pseudonyms won intercontinental tournaments before he phased out completely from the circuit to run Moonbase.
He had an excited feeling that, given 362's private history, she thrived at high-stakes games. It had been much too long since he's had good competition.
She arrived an hour later, looking freshly showered and wearing KND fatigues instead of her uniform. Did she ever wear any personal clothing that wasn't work related, he wondered, and wordlessly allowed her inside.
"Drink?" he offered. She nodded and settled herself on the couch, the place mat already set up on the coffee table. He hovered in question by the divider, watching her study the table. She was already strategizing before she answered quietly.
"Anything but soda."
Numbuh 274 snorted before he disappeared and returned with something other than water. "This okay?" He offered her a box with a bright green apple on the label.
She nodded again, politely accepted the drink, and returned to shuffling her cards.
Competitive Yipper wasn't commonplace. Most kids merely used the barter and trade system to collect Yipper cards instead of using them in competition. The creator intentionally did this by creating complicated and often harsh rules hoping to nurture serious progression tournaments for the hardcore.
If he wanted to have Yipper taken seriously, he shouldn't have picked a younger demographic, in 274's opinion.
One of these most infamous rules, All or Nothing, was brutal enough for casual players to either disregard the rule completely in local tournaments or turn them away. If you lost your card to a direct attack, the attacker rightfully won that card. It was a double-edged sword he had exploited for many good cards in his professional campaign, so much so that many didn't seek his pseudonyms out so much for a match anymore.
Despite that being public information at Numbuh 362's fingertips, she hadn't declined the offer.
The lights were noticeably dim due to conserving power, but it was bright enough for them to set up the starter round and begin.
Whichever assault he tried to put down, she meticulously altered and changed her strategy to best counter his. Her cards weren't as powerful as his, but she made up for it by exploiting effects and stealing legit turns to bolster her defense.
It was aggravating, but it was extremely attractive by how she played. It was elegant and merciless. Her tact danced around his powerful punches and she stole a good number of his wins through manipulation rather than force.
The cool air slowly ignited between them. It turned into a meticulous struggle of one-upping each others' strategy. For every type he combated, she sought weaknesses to bolster defense at the cost of offense.
When she had defeated and claimed his second favorite card as her own, Chad realized that he needed to stop playing around and dig through her defenses turns later.
By sacrificing his decoy cards into her possession, he toppled the key card she had been carefully building up. He let out a small yell for pulling it off and pumped his fist. "Yes!"
Her eyes widened a fraction and her mouth parted in surprise when he picked up her once prized card as his own. "Ah!"
"Ah?" he teased and placed the card face down on the captured pile. "If that was a gasp, I'm humbled."
She frowned, but her attention remained solely on the field. It gave him the chance to take a breather and sit back. Her next strategy might take some time by how deep she appeared in concentration.
"You play a mean game of Yipper, Numbuh 362," he admitted softly.
Her gaze flickered to his weary posture and then returned to the board. "Do you wish your cards returned at the end of the game?"
"Are you pitying me?" he raised an eyebrow. "The game's not even over and I've been eyeing your #34 card for quite some time."
When her lips curled up in that small smile, he felt like he had accomplished something great. "You must work to secure the card then. I have no intention of losing that one to you."
Numbuh 274's lazy smile turned into a competitive grin. "Well now I have to take it from you. A matter of pride and all."
"Pride," she repeated, her voice thick with sarcasm as she elegantly placed two cards down. "I've decided on my next move. Prepare your counterattack, Supreme Leader sir."
"Chad," he corrected and leaned forward again to examine the board. "You've got some of my best cards through tact. I think it's safe to say you've earned the right to call me that."
She blinked in mild surprise. There was an unsure look about her before she resigned herself under his heavy look. She then was determined to stare at nothing else but the board. "Ah."
"Another gasp? Ha, think I can call you McKenzie?" he half-teased, finding delight in watching her slight shoulders start in alarm. "Or maybe Rachel?" He found his voice deepened mentioning that forbidden name. This time he couldn't ignore the trill of pleasure shooting up his spine when a noticeable flush rose up the side of her pale throat.
"You are my superior," she answered with such hesitation, Chad was almost sure she was trying to cover for something. "You may call me whatever you wish."
Another shot of electricity ran up his back. "I want to call you Rachel in private," he replied, his throat dry, "but you don't have to call me by my name if you don't want to." Just because he wanted to be personal with her didn't mean he'd force her to do the same.
He was after all a gentleman.
That far away look in those dark eyes meant she was carefully considering the breach in protocol, probably wondering if this was a step too far in fraternization. The way she wrapped her arms around her stomach was as if she was trying to hide from him. He might have done something wrong asking too early.
Regardless, he waited patiently for an answer. Then, after a moment, she unwound herself; her fingers curled under her chin in deliberation. It was mesmerizing to watch her think.
"Okay," she murmured to the cards. "Numbuh 274."
She had such a way of dodging the important questions. Chad had fought the urge to snort.
By the end of the session, they secured a good number of cards from each other. Chad examined what seemed to be one-third of his deck comprising her captured cards and probably almost vice versa on her side.
He quietly mourned the loss of Yipper card #79. It had been an artifact from one of the most gruesome semifinals he had ever played in his campaign, but true to his word, he cinched her #34.
Rachel had been carefully placing her winning cards in a separate container which he had appreciated. Most players often treated their opponent's cards like trash in some weird show of dominance.
"I will take care of your cards until you can earn them back," she said.
Then again, he wasn't surprised the slightest that she treated things with respect. It didn't even feel like he lost his cards, rather, she was holding onto them until next time.
Did that mean she wanted a rematch then? He looked up at her in mild surprise and she nodded when he asked.
"Unless... you do not wish to play again?" she looked down at her clasped hands, her words hesitant. Was she afraid that he'd say no because she won some of his prized cards?
He reassured her doubts with a grin. "Are you kidding? You gave me a good run for my money. I'd be stupid not to re-challenge you."
She didn't smile, but he could tell how her shoulders relaxed she was beaming with pleasure.
Days later, they had no choice but to hash out a plan to bring the hamsters back early when negotiations fell through. While she offered using white lies to bring the little furballs running back, he himself was bitter enough to suggest they just toss the little upstarts altogether and breed a gerbil army.
They did both.
He admired her cold professional approach with the backdrop of the lazy Jamaican beach side when she exited the shuttle. Numbuh 1-Love ordered one of his operatives to give her a smoothie which she politely declined. The massive hamster population hardly noticed her; they were too busy filling up the large pool and partying.
"By order of Supreme Leader Numbuh 274, he has made a decree for the hamsters employed in all sectors of KND," she said loudly for their attention, but only a few hamsters listened. One of them prepared to launch a spray of soda at her, but a cold glare caused it to squeak in alarm and run off. "You will not listen to your commanding officer's decree? Very well.
She turned, only to find one of the hamsters chattering and tugging on her leg for her attention. With a nod, she knelt down and held out a piece of paper for it to 'read' off of.
"By order of Supreme Leader Numbuh 274," she repeated, "all talks of negotiations about fixing the mix up regarding your vacation times have dissolved as you refused a compromise. You are all forth with decommissioned from KND service. Any sectors you may have belonged to have been re-purposed for the gerbil population, who have generously offered their services in powering the treehouses."
Many of the hamsters around her fell silent. Some even looked at each other in alarm.
"Further more," she continued, "because of their services beyond the call of duty in the last few days, your owners have agreed that having a gerbil instead of a hamster would be less trouble to take care of. Your designated Hamster Specialists have disposed of your belongings and living space to prepare for our new gerbil comrades. Please enjoy your vacation in Sector J as long as you wish. It is part of your severance package."
That caused an uproar of hamster proportions. Hundreds of thousands of furballs whined and panicked; some were running around in circles unable to understand and few began to even beg for forgiveness in their little hamster mumble speak. Before 362 could walk away, they all moved into neat little rows of silent obedient hamsters, aligning themselves by sector to make it easier for her to roll call.
The orange hamster that tugged on her leg earlier tossed the soda can away and saluted her.
Acknowledging them, she stood up and patiently placed her hands behind her back. "I see you are not pleased by the decree. If you are all that determined, I suppose the decree can be reversed." They let out a roar of joy when she tore the decree in half and they piled themselves into their designated ships for disembarkation.
From his throne on Moonbase, Numbuh 274 ended the transmission and laughed.
