…Continuing Transmission…
Numbuh 4 ducked another punch sent by the kid in front of him. His navy boxers with red stitching at the waistband were stained with fresh perspiration. Ashlock's orangey-yellow shorts were in a similar state. Other than the appearance of evident training, it was a pretty fair battle. No weapons, no protective gear, and no rules.
Mark sent his fist at his opponent's stomach, and Numbuh 4, being the gifted pugilist he was, easily moved away in a 70s-style dance slide, of which his waist led the way of dragging his body to the side.
Mark grinned. "Smooth," he murmured as he dodged Numbuh 4's swift floor-kick.
Numbuh 4 jumped to his feet, feeling the sensation of that sticky warm liquid all over him. It felt so good. An accomplishment. His wheezing gasps purely satisfied him. "You're not so bad yourself."
The Italian swiftly spun around with his arm in front of him, aiming to knock the Aussie at the side of the head with his arm. However, Numbuh 4 was able to duck it within millimeters.
"Ya train?" he asked though tough breaths, deciding to throw his own punch at Mark's head.
Mark held him off with the palm of his hand, now having a direct clutch of his fist. "Yeah, four years now." He threw Numbuh 4's fist to the side, allowing him to reclaim it. "My brother used to train me. He was pretty good too."
Unexpectedly, in the blink of an eye, Mark intentionally collapsed to the floor and swung his leg, like he was break-dancing around at Numbuh 4's ankles. The blonde boy yelped before dropping to the hollow white floors, in defeat. Everything was abruptly out of fighting mode – quiet, except for the echoing sound of Mark's and Numbuh 4's loud gulps of air.
Mark came back to his feet. "You know…for a guy like you…" he started through mouthfuls of air, fists rested on each side of his sweaty hips. "You're not so bad." He smoothed his soaked bangs from his face and gelled it back with the help of the warm, sticky moist liquid dripping from his hair. He was smiling humorously.
Numbuh 4, just as worn out as his challenger, got to his own feet. "Yeah. You too," he wheezed.
Just at that time, that same Japanese girl known as Numbuh 3 walked through the doorway. Tucked under her right arm was a small stuffed purple monkey with a tiny flat rainbow piece sticking out of its head. She tilted her head back to stare up at the top of the large wrestling rink above her, like she was sitting in the very front row of the movie theater. "Guys!" she yelled up to the two fatigued boys. "Snack time!"
The blonde shorter boy peered over the thick ropes outlining the wrestling rink. He saw the figure of his female comrade standing below him. "All right, we'll be there," he hollered in response. Mark appeared beside him with a couple of white and red striped towels. He handed one to his fighting partner, and he took it with much gratitude.
"Okay! Oh, and Numbuh 1 says we're gonna all talk over snack! So tell Mark to bring those files Numbuh 86 gave him!"
"I will," Mark shouted down to her, peeking over the ropes as well.
Numbuh 3, being the untroubled girl she was, grinned happily at this and skipped off. The purple monkey remained squeezed underneath her arm. She began to hum a blissful melody, the tune fading as she pranced off farther and farther into the hallway.
Mark turned to Numbuh 4 with a small grin. "What's say we hit the showers," he suggested, wiping away the droplets of sweat from his forehead with the towel.
Numbuh 4 grinned in return for no reason. He was completely shocked with himself, but he didn't trouble himself with considering why.
It had taken about fifteen minutes to pull Numbuh 3 away from her lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Wiggleston and introduce her to some real food, but eventually, all six of them were settled at the wide, rectangular-shaped table in the kitchen. Numbuh 1 sat at one end of the table, while Mark sat at the other end. On one side were Numbuhs 2 and 5; Numbuh 2 closer to Numbuh 1, and Numbuh 5 closer to Mark. On the other side were Numbuhs 3 and 4; Numbuh 3 closer to Numbuh 1, and Numbuh 4 closer to Mark.
Everyone was just about ready to dig in to the food in front of them (Numbuh 2's fingers were twitching near the plate of fries) when Numbuh 1 cleared his throat, for the fifth time that day, to get the group's attention.
"Mark, all of us would like to welcome you to our Treehouse."
Numbuh 3 tried to instigate applause by clapping her hands together, only to receive an awkward stare from the hungry Numbuh 4 next to her.
"Numbuh 86 told me to go over some of our instructions while you are here, and I intend to finish that before we begin."
"Can't ya do it on your own time?" Numbuh 4 demanded, staring directly at the cheese fries piled on a silver platter, the steam still temptingly rising off of it. "Tha cheese is goin' ta get cold!"
Numbuh 2 nodded.
Mark laughed and gave a small shrug. "Go ahead and dig in. I don't see what the problem is."
The blonde boy didn't wait a second longer. Pretty soon, he was all over the cheese fries. Effortlessly persuading his fellow operatives, they also took something for themselves.
Numbuh 1 just gave a stern look. "All right, then. We'll wait until later." Push-over.
Mark smiled just before he placed a nacho between his teeth.
"Now then, let's get on with this," Numbuh 1 informed, standing at the podium in the briefing room. Again, as they were earlier that day, Numbuhs 2 through 5 sat around the giant tire resting in a large hole in the floor. Except now, Mark Ashlock was in the middle. Right in the middle. Right between Numbuhs 4 and 5. "All right, Mark, let me introduce you to what the Kids Next Door has planned for you. Surely you've seen most of the Treehouse now. Correct?"
Mark just nodded. Then he added, "And it's amazing. Did you all build it, or was it always here?"
"We built it together," Numbuh 2 confirmed before quickly adding, "but I designed it."
"Cool. Really nice work."
Numbuh 2 smiled proudly.
"As I was saying, we've received documents from Kids Next Door Moon base, reporting that you have exceeded in the stimulation at KND Arctic Base. They read that you surpassed all levels of any KND operative, even former operative Chad a.k.a. former Numbuh 274." He shuffled a stack of paper and straightened them neatly. "Also, in the instructions given to us directly, they say that you as a training operative must spend a week or so fighting adults with our team until you understand the full meaning of what being a KND operative is really about."
Suddenly, his stern expression turned faintly tense. "But, if it's not much too wonder about, may I ask why you chose Sector V? Not that you are uncalled for, of course. For such a succeeding operative, there must be a reason why you chose our Sector."
"Well, it's kind of difficult, really," Mark uttered in a low tone. "If I was going to stay anywhere, I needed to be close enough to home. Just incase. Plus…well, this was my brother's Sector. He was an important part of my life."
Numbuh 1's face fell to the floor. He didn't mean to cause him any grief. He coughed, suggesting the pressure giving in on him. "Well, anyway, we were to schedule specific timings of blending you with one of our operatives while they are at work. Numbuh 86 tells me you do not have a specific profession in the KND you'd rather have."
Mark shrugged. "Not that there is none. I just don't mind on what job I get confirmed into. It won't matter all that much to me."
"I'm telling you. He's cute," Numbuh 3 whispered into her female friend's ear.
Numbuh 1 perceived the sound of her voice and simply gave them a detailed stare, reading 'Not now.' "How about this: For today, you can just relax and explore the Treehouse. Go wherever you like. Only, try not to go unsupervised unless you're on any of the main floors. It's easy to get lost in here."
"That's fine." Mark nodded his head understandingly.
Numbuh 1 set the papers down. "Well then, since that's settled, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?"
Another shrug. "Well, if you're interested…"
"Greatly," Numbuh 2 quickly proclaimed.
"Well, okay. I was born in Italy, where I lived with my parents and brother for two years. A year after my father left, I moved to Pennsylvania that year with my mother and older brother, and that same year was when my brother joined the Kids Next Door." Mark took a breather. "He was trained the same way I was recently, and, the following two months, he officially graduated as Numbuh 12.8."
"Hold up. Hold up," Numbuh 2 exclaimed, waving everything else off in sudden realization. He pointed at him. "You're saying that your brother was the Numbuh 12.8?"
Mark nodded.
"Ya know tha guy?" Numbuh 4 demanded.
"Heck yes, I do! He was one of the best operatives in the Kids Next Door! Plus his trading cards were pretty rare. Rumor has it he used to be in Sector V."
"Oh, how convenient," Numbuh 1 muttered, sarcastically.
Lucky for him, nobody heard.
"Sector V…" Numbuh 3 said in thought. Within seconds, it came to her. "Hey, that's our Sector!"
Numbuh 2 nodded. "Uh huh. He was in the Kids Next Door for five years until three years ago, when he turned 13. And I think that was around Cree's time in the KND."
"Cree Lincoln?"
Everyone looked at him.
"Ya know my sister?" Numbuh 5 inquired.
"Numbuh 11 is your sister?" Mark uttered with bits of surprise and shock. "Wow, that's amazing. She was my brother's leader."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Small world, huh."
"Yeah, really."
Numbuh 1 felt his patience running out. What was so hard to believe? What made it so difficult to understand? Some guy that had a brother in the Kids Next Door had joined their Sector, and apparently that was a great thing. Yeah, so Mark and Numbuh 5 did have something in common. Why didn't they all just throw a party? "Can we move on?"
Mark looked up. "Sorry, of course." He sent a small wink in the rest of the team's direction. Numbuh 1, even over the rim of his shades, observed it quite clearly. "Ever since Gabriel, or Numbuh 12.8, was officially a member of the Kids Next Door, he gave me my own little training sessions every once in a while. We broke a lamp and a vase, but it was worth it. My brother taught me everything I know."
That explains the muscles, Numbuh 1 concluded.
"Five years later, the time he turned thirteen, I was turning eight. But instead of getting decommissioned, being the oldest of his Sector, he escaped decommissioning alongside his team. My mother has not seen him ever since.
"And now, two years later, here I am. My main objective here in the Kids Next Door is to follow in my brother's footsteps."
It took a second for anyone to speak.
"Wow…" Numbuh 4 trailed in awe.
Numbuh 3 smiled. "What's it like?"
Mark looked at her. "I'm sorry?" he questioned, slightly puzzled.
"I say, what's it like?" she repeated. "You know, not seeing somebody close to you for a long time? It must be lonely."
"In a way, I guess it sort of is. I mean, now he's against the Kids Next Door, and I'm in it. I'm not sure of whether I should be against him or not."
Numbuh 1 sighed. The scenario sounded awfully familiar to the team, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise. He looked down at the files to be filled out. If they wanted to chat amongst themselves, they might as well do it on their own time. He shuffled the papers in his hands so corners did not bend. "Um…listen, Mark. It seems to me you can handle anything necessary to your understanding if it isn't cleat. If any of you need me, I'll be working on your report in my room."
No response followed.
Numbuh 1 slowly walked off the stage. "So, uh…I'll just be in my room if you…you know."
Not silence, but ignorance.
"So, how did you get to choose your own Sector?" Numbuh 4 demanded. "Ah mean, Ah got mine programmed by that watche-ma-callet, and Ah ended up all the way down in Sector V." Numbuh 4 nudged Numbuh 2. "Sucks, right?"
"Numbuh 4, just don't talk," Numbuh 5 affirmed.
A chuckle escaped Mark's throat. "Well, they told me that my level tops most of the others, so it wouldn't matter where I was put. They said that if I had trouble deciding, then they would just use that Code Module. But I decided Sector V, so they just typed it into the machine."
"So why Sector V?"
He shrugged. "Well, as I told you, my brother was in this Sector. So, if I want to follow in his footsteps, I might as well go as detailed as possible. Plus, I needed somewhere close to my home, so I could be with my family."
"If you're so cautious about your family, why the heck did you even join the Kids Next Door in the first place?" was what Numbuh 1 wanted to question, considering that he was still standing in the room. But he didn't. He should leave. There were reports to be complete. He did not want a conjecturing affection for this new Kid Next Door.
Numbuh 1 didn't bother saying one last 'goodbye' to the group. He simply turned around sharply on his heel, tucked the folder of papers under his arm, and walked out of the room formally. Not like it mattered to the team whether he was still in the room or not.
…Transmission Interrupted…
Nothing is easier than self-deceit. For what each person wishes, that he also believes to be true.
