A/N: Hola. I don't speak Spanish! Cos I take French! So... Salut! Je m'appelle Jessicuh!

Haha. Just kidding. My name est Jessica, pas Jessicuh. Aime my Franglais?

I'm not very good so don't kill me for butchering the language. Desolee.

Je ne suis pas Mr. Warburton ou James Patterson. C'est vrai. Translation: I am not Mr. Warburton or James Patterson. The truth.

Onward my minions!

Present Day, Sector V Tree House, POV: Numbah Three Kuki Sanban

To say that this past week had been weird would have been an understatement. A huge one.

How many of you can say you've hung out with someone who died for years ago? No one? I thought so.

None of us were really sure enough to believe him, but apparently this was Wallabee "Wally" Beatles. Or Iggy Ride, as he now goes by. Because that's not suspicious. Not at all.

So far, this is our evidence:

1. He sounds like Numbah Four.

2. He looks like Wally.

3. He watches what Numbah Four would watch.

4. He says what Wally would say.

5. He was disgusted by my Rainbow Monkeys just like Numbah Four would be.

Our reasoning as to why he can't be Numbah Four? Well, that would be the conversation he was currently having with Hoagie.

Present Day, Sector V Tree House, POV: Iggy Ride

You know what I hate? When people think I'm stupid because I can't read. Well I'm sorry, have you ever read normal writing while blind? Not braille?

No? Exactly my point.

But the only thing I hate more than that? When an idiot thinks they're a genius.

Like right now, for example.

"Look, I think I can make these bombs, okay? I've done it before, I can do it again," Numbah Two said to me, a little annoyed that I was bothering him.

"Dude! You didn't even take any measurements! If you mess up even once that bomb could be a disaster!" I exclaimed, exasperated with my old friend. "And everyone messes up if they don't make the correct measurements!"

"I'm the two by four expert in this Sector, Iggy. Not you. I know what I'm doing. I don't need measurements," he told me, a little condescending, I might add. Everyone called me Iggy because they had a hard time accepting that I'm Wally. Plus, it's what I want to be called.

"You don't need them, huh? So you planned to make a bomb that will have blast zone of twenty feet and a fuse time of point zero nine seconds?" I retorted, making the measurements with just a glance. His jaw dropped. "Because if you did, then yeah, you don't need 'em. But let me guess. You didn't plan for that."

"Stop making up fake measurements and let me work," he snapped, not believing me. I glared. I don't care if he told me to leave him alone, that was an insult to my intelligence and my knowledge of bombs.

"I'm not making them up. Every decent bomber knows that the amount of sulfur you put in guarantees a twenty foot blast zone. And your wiring is crud, mate. Sorry, but it's true. Those timers you attached ain't gonna work. And you can't throw the bombs. You'll be in the blast zone. The highly explosive blast zone, I might add," I hissed. Word to the wise: when it comes to bombs, I'm the expert. Not you.

"This coming from the guy who can't read!" he shouted in my face. "You say you're Wally! Wally has never been interested in bombs before! You've just proved that you aren't him! Also, I've been making these bombs for years and the timers have always worked! You don't know crap about bombs if you think they won't work!" He was up in my face, no longer at his work table. Absentmindedly, I noted that I was a full head taller than him, unlike when we were ten.

"Fine. Don't believe my measurements," I stated coldly. "Just don't come crying to me when I'm right, just like the time I told you the C.O.O.L.B.U.S needed gas before we headed to moonbase to say goodbye to Numbah One and you didn't listen to me." His eyes widened at the reference. "Or the time Cree turned you down for the tenth time. Or when you lost you're goggles." I started to list times he had come to me in tears because I was right and he was wrong. With each new incident, his eyes grew more wide and his skin grew more pale. Eventually, I walked away and left him like that.

Present Day, Sector V Tree House, POV: Numbah Three Kuki Sanban

I sat in shock, utterly bewildered. Iggy walked past me, radiating fury. Numbah Two looked absolutely terrified. Why was Iggy so mad? He'd proved his point. He'd proved that he was Wally. Why the anger? Was he mad that we didn't believe he knew bomb measurements? I don't get him.

"What's going on? Why so pale, Hoags?" Abby questioned, seeing his pale face.

"Iggy just proved he's Wally." And with that, Hoagie wandered away to his room in a daze, completely abandoning his projects.

"What? Numbah Five doesn't understand," Abby complained. Don't worry Abby, you're not alone.

Ohhhhhh, Number Two! How dare you insult the bombing skills of Iggy!

Anyway, sorry if you don't understand what I was saying up above, I was in a French mood. Franglais is French plus English (Francais and Anglais in French, therefore Franglais).

I also want to say that I just realized that I gave Angel the same name as Numbah Five. But hey, it's not that uncommon a name, right? So it's reasonable that they could have the same name! Plus, in this story, Numbah Four's room was closed off when he died. His teammates refused to let anyone replace him in their sector and they refused to let his codename be reused. They never moved any of his stuff and never got over his death. So yeah.

As for the point of views, it's mainly going to be Iggy and Numbah Three. Kuki tends to switch between calling people by their codename and their real name, sorta like me. Haha. :)

"Take life by the husks!"

– Numbah 827