Although I am still sad over the lack of responses I have, I will continue to write! I WILL CONTINUE!!!
Without further ado, read and enjoy.
Numbuh 362 was only seconds away from completely blacking out. She had been up since two of the previous morning reading the report Abby and emailed to her on the green stone. Twenty six pages of what, a detailed explanation on how she climbed into a cave, swam, found a mysterious lab and then left, Wally in toe. She rubbed the temples on her forehead, almost ashamed that the organization she ran had so much paper work to dish out. She still had tampon dispenser requests to go through and the night was not getting any younger.
She flung the entire manila folder of her desk and spun around in her throne-like chair until she was facing the windows of her office. She always like this office because it was large and had a wonderful view of the Earth. She'd miss it when she hit thirty and her little brother inherited her spot—hopefully. He wasn't making a good name for himself sleeping with all the girls. Another problem to deal with on another day.
Rachel tied her long blond hair into a sloppy bun and let out a long sigh. "Computer!" she yelled into the empty space that was her office.
"Yes, Commander?" a computer voice responded.
"Turn on my iPod. Shuffle it up please."
"Yes maame." It said before the song Nothing to Worry About came on.
Rachel relaxed into her chair, letting herself slide down. Her head started to bob with the beat and she felt herself starting to slip away into the music. She liked moments like this, moments where she felt like a normal teenager, not like one trying to run an organization made to save the world for tyrants. She realized that soon they would have to change the name again. They weren't just teens anymore. Most of the operatives were twenty-two, if not twenty-four, by now. Where was new decommissioning age? Was she obligated to go back and recomission all the decommissioned thirteen year olds—she groaned. How many times had she asked herself that, she did not know. There was still the issue of the people like Chad and Cree who escaped their decommissioning.
Were they technically still part of the TND now? They were both in their twenties, they still qualified.
She groaned, loudly, "Fuck!" she yelled.
The elevator door to her office suddenly opened and she wanted to just stunnuh-gunnuh whoever it was at this late hour. She spun around in her chair to face the person.
It was Franny, running towards her desk, panting and sweating. She was carrying a large stack of papers, folders and a metal tube of some kind, her beyond red hair was clinging to her face and she stumbled a bit, never loosing pace though. This could not, in any ways, be good; Rachel knew it, "iPod off." The music died away.
When Numbuh 86 reached the desk she nearly collapsed, spilling the contents held in her arms all over the desk. "Sector… H… Egypt… not good!" she panted and screamed, making it damn near impossible for her Commander to make out anything she said.
"Franny, calm down and try again. I can't understand you." She laughed a bit, even though she could tell her right hand girl was having a terrible fit.
Franny pulled out an inhaler she had in her vest pocket and took a deep drag of air. Almost instantly she was good again. She put the inhaler back and the looked at Rachel, nothing in her eyes was pleasant.
"Sir, sector H contacted me with most troubling news," Franny started, pulling out a navy blue folder and holding it out for Rachel to take. She did so Franny continued, "Earlier today, US mountain time, they tried establish communication with the operatives in the main base at Sector E but noticed something was off."
As Rachel flipped through the contents of the folder she new that something bad was about to come out of Franny's mouth. She was trying to brace herself for anything as she looked at pictures of the Egyptian base in complete shambles.
"Because of the suspicions, the team agreed hours later that Maxine Beats, one of their top agents, should go out and check on them. Since she is the only one out of them who had any personal connection with any of the Egyptian operatives, she apparently was seeing Mo at some point," she sounded skeptical about that. Considering how, up until the sector H agents contacted her, she assumed Mo from sector E was gay. Rachel caught on but shrugged it off, Fran continued, "Maxine took the photos you are now holding and immediately returned to home base. She emailed those to me recently with the proper paperwork and this…" she lifted the tube, "This came in express delivery." Franny's voice shook a bit.
Rachel set the photos aside and stared Numbuh 86 straight in her green eyes, "What's in the tube, 86?" she asked slowly, almost not wanting to hear the answer.
Fran swallowed, reaching over to where her Commander had put the pictures and lifted the one with a pink post it attached. She set it down and pointed to an area surrounded by a small black circle with an arrow pointing at it, "That," she said, almost in a whisper, "Is a mining drill."
Rachel was confused, "What are they mining?"
Franny lifted the tube and pushed a little red button on the side. The middle of the tube retracted and behind a little glass barrier sat a green stone. It wasn't glowing but it still sent shivers down Numbuh 362's spine. "Franny is that…" she didn't get to finish her question because Franny was already nodding a yes.
"This is the same stone, but in a bigger portion, that Numbuh 5 sent us earlier," she paused, "A.P.P.L.E… they're mining the stuff."
Rachel felt like all the air in her body was suddenly sucked out and thrown, wastefully into the deep recesses of space. She slumped down in her chair again and sighed, "Fuck."
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Nigel waved goodbye to Lizzie as she drove off, crying in a taxi. He hadn't meant to tell her everything that happened with him and Rachel. He didn't want to hurt her. He even tried explaining that it was a meaningless fling that would never be reincarnated but she wasn't having any of his excuses.
The look on her face, the sheer sadness of it, broke Nigel Uno's only beating heart into a million pieces. He just wanted to die because of it.
"Where's Lizzie going?" Kuki's voice suddenly came from behind him.
He quickly wiped the tears from his face and from beneath his glasses before she could see him in one of his most shameful moments. He had never intended for it to go this way when he finally fest up. He knew she'd be mad, that was to be expect, duh, but he hoped that she would forgive him and take into account his honesty. She didn't of course. She told him it was over between them and that she never wanted to see him again. That's when she packed up all her stuff and called for a taxi.
Nigel coughed and with the utmost of composure said, "We won't be seeing each other for a while." And then he waited for Kuki to break down and cry until he explained everything and made him cry with her.
"Bummer," she said almost immediately with a shrug, "Have you seen Wally?"
Nigel was slightly offended but thankful she didn't pursue the issue further, "No."
She looked around and then pouted, "Maybe he's down by the lake. Bye." And she ran off…
Just like that she ran off. She didn't stay to talk to Nigel, comfort him in his time of need. So he stood there, in shock, alone.
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Squeak, squeak, squeak.
The right wheel of the wheelchair just wouldn't stop squeaky, no matter how many times he worked on it, and he took great pride in his work. Maybe I should just replace it with a new wheel, he thought to himself. He then sighed and slowed his roll a bit, Wish I could replace my legs with new legs.
He increased his speed, realizing that he had had all those thoughts before. A new wheel, new legs… they started to blend together after a while and only sink him further into depression. Yeah, more depression medication, that's what I need, he scoffed to himself.
Tommy Gilligan, now sixteen, rolled along, as he always did on Tuesday mornings, to the pick up spot for his doctor appointment. His parents were never home, work and all, so he had to get himself to the "bus station" where a TND medic shuttle would pick him up. He couldn't drive, even with the limited mobility of his legs, and most definitely hated asking his friends for a ride. The heat was unbearable in the summer and today was no exception. Sweat rolled down his back, off his arms and down his face, dripping onto his already sweaty soaked shirt.
He thought about calling Hoagie before he left, he knew where he was and why he was there. Before his brother had gone he explained everything to his little brother. Tommy wasn't young, nor was he naive, so he gave his brother two words of advice before hanging up, "Get help and come back better."
He knew something was up with he and Abby when they both came to a dinner his parents were having. Hoagie seemed fine enough but Abby was timid, and timid isn't even in her TND file as an attribute, never was and never had been. She was wearing this long sleeve shirt and long pants that she seemed to hate, her hat was pulled low over her face and every time Hoagie went to hug her she flinched—he still could never imagine her brother being a woman-beater. Disgraceful.
Of course he asked his brother why he did it, he had to, it was obviously a big deal and secret. Hoagie responded, "Because of what she did to you."
Tommy nearly hung up the phone right then and there. He took his goggles off so that his brother could see his eyes when he responded, "You listen to me right now, Hoagie," he started with a strained voice, "Abby didn't do this," –he motioned to the chair—"to me. The Toilenator did. She might be the only reason I'm alive right now. You should thank her." And Tommy meant what he said.
Hoagie scoffed it off with one of his typical "Yeah, yeah, yeah's," and a hand wave as though what Tommy said had no relevance to him whatsoever. "You were merely a trainee at the time. She was a pro." He stated.
Tommy remembered that day so vividly in his mind that he often wouldn't sleep for days because he was afraid of reliving the experience through memories. He sighed so loudly that he was afraid his parents heard, he lived at home since he was on suspension until his full mobility came back. He slammed a fist down on his desk and put his goggled back on, "Would rather she made the choice instead of trying to save us both?" he asked in almost a whisper.
Hoagie seemed to falter at the question, he never really thought about it. He didn't answer so Tommy said it again, this time louder, "Would you prefer that the bastard killed one of us?"
"No." Hoagie whispered, "I would have preferred her to be better."
Tommy would never deny that he looked up to his older brother, he always would and always had. But Numbuh 5 was the best at what she did, whether it was a mission or just a game she was often the best. Always had been and probably always will be.
"Tommy get off the phone!" a woman's voice said off screen.
Tommy looked back at his brother and sighed, "Numbuh 5 did what any good operative would have done. She tried to save both of us, Mushi and I," he felt his voice crack, "I highly doubt you or anyone in the TND, past or present, could have done better." And the screen went blank.
He hadn't spoken to Hoagie since then.
Finally, he sighed as he finally reached the spot for pick up. Getting there seemed to take years longer than normal and he was starting to get sick of going. He thought about cancelling but his progress has been so good lately. The doctors said his legs will be fully operational within months—of course they've said that for a year now. Tommy still had hope.
He pulled his backpack off the handles of the chair and decided to pull out a book while he waited. Ender's Game was what he packed, a classic. He found that reading was a great way to escape his own world and live in another one. He found solace in the science fiction novel's characters and improbable situations and comfort when little Ender felt comfort.
By the time the TND shuttle came for him he was lost in the futuristic world.
"Tommy," a voice called out to him, snapping him back to a painful reality, "Tommy Gilligan."
It was the operative from the medic shuttle, he was holding the door open so Tommy could get in. He must have been standing there for quite some time as he seemed a little frustrated. Tommy shoved the book back into his pack and smiled sorrowfully at the operative, "Sorry," he said. He scooted his way up the guy as he lowered the ramp so he could get into the shuttle.
Tommy hated ramps. He used to skate them. Butt-boarding, stomach-boarding, even snowboarding, now all he could to was wheelchair his way up there. There wasn't much enjoyment going down one, he was afraid of crashing and not being able to get back into his chair. Either way he had to get into the shuttle.
He closed his eyes the entire way up the ramp and didn't open them again until the operative had strapped his chair down and told the pilot to start up the shuttle. He hated this part of getting to the doctors.
The shuttle jolted and was hauled into the air with a screech. Tommy felt his stomach lurch and his breakfast threatened to come back for seconds. He swallowed it all back down and tried to calm himself. He couldn't start reading again, he had super bad motion sickness, and he hadn't packed a snack so he turned a decided to stare into space, literal space.
He watched the decreasing in size Earth and sighed, wishing he had never looked out of the window. The day the adults attacked he had picked what he wanted his skill to be. He had spent days decideding. Hoagie was pressuring for Tommy to become a 2x4 specialist like he was. Mushi was always cheering for him to go with her into the weapons field. He had always admired the way Wally kicked butt and there was always the option of being in the stealth operations group. So many to choose from and finally picked studying to become a pilot and aerial arts specialist. He was so excited. The mere thought of flying his own ship was enough to send him into epileptic shock. In essence he would still be like Hoagie, except better.
Now he didn't qualify for his TND certification because he could barely use his legs.
What I wouldn't give to be able to use my legs, he thought, There is nothing.
Minutes later the ship was docking at Moon Base's medical wing. The operative from before came and unhooked his chair and assisted in pushing Tommy down the ramp.
"Thanks, I got it from here," Tommy told the helpful, yet unwanted, operative. He had helped Tommy the last time and the time before that.
The operative took no offense, he'd gotten from Tommy before. "Alright, man. See you in a few."
Tommy rolled down the hallways, avoiding all the other doctors and patients, sticking to the paths marked with his doctor's name, Dr. Numbuh 62. He could probably find his way there blindfolded now-n-days.
The doctor was waiting for him by the door, typical doctor smile plastered to his face. He was younger than Tommy, fourteen at the oldest with a Mohawk at least a foot high. He wore no gloves, unsanitary, but what gave Tommy a weird impression every time he went for a check up was the fact that Numbuh 62 wore roller blades.
"Come in, come in, Tommy." He said as he slid into his office, ballerina-like.
Tommy did as he was instructed. He rolled next to the little paper-sheeted bed sitting in the middle of everything and lifted himself onto it, legs dangling off the sides as though he were a child. The doctor smiled and gave an approving nod, he could remember when it was a chore to get Tommy onto the examiner bed. With a chuckle Dr. Numbuh 62 addressed Tommy, "How have you been feeling lately?" he asked, sitting in a chair across form his patient.
Tommy smiled, "Swell. I've been working hard and I can even walk up stairs by myself now so…" he paused. He asked this question every time her went to the doctors and received the same answer, "When do you think I can rid of the chair?
The doctor did what always did, chuckled, smiled and then said, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
Doctor Numbuh 62 got up from his chair and glided, slowly, over to where a small clipboard sat on his desk, Tommy's file. He flipped through it, gave a grunt, flip through it some more, nod and mumble to himself and then flipped through it again. After repeating the process another three times he sat the chart down and did something he never did before, he sighed.
This caught Tommy's attention instantly, "Wha…what is it."
The doctor slumped back into his chair, "What are your future plans with the TND?" he inquired.
Tommy didn't have to think about his reply, "Once I get my legs back, I'm going to get my certification to be a pilot." The answer was automatic, Tommy had thought and dreamed for many days and nights about the day the doctor said he could walk again.
But once again, Numbuh 62 sighed, "Tommy," the doctor said his name with an airy tone, "The progress you've made is astounding when you consider the amount of nerve damage in your lower spinal chord you took. Moving your toes should feel like a milestone to you," he said with a weak smile, "But the plain fact of the matter is that…"
Tommy held his breath.
"… there is no possible way that you will ever get full use of your legs back." He finished, sorrowfully.
Tommy seemed aghast by the statement, "But I just told you I could walk up a flight of stairs! By myself!" he yelled.
The doctor stood, "How long until you need your chair again afterwards?" the way the doctor said the words made it an almost statement, like he already knew the answer but needed Tommy to say it himself, to understand what he was saying.
Tommy said nothing thought he knew the answer. Seconds, sometimes minutes, he said to himself. He couldn't believe this. Years of hope flushed down a gigantic smelly toilet in mere seconds.
He thought today would be the day he got rid of the chair. He hoped today was the day he could take himself off the handicap list and put his name back on the roster. His hopes were shattered, dreams destroyed. He had no future with the TND.
"Tommy there are many stationary positions..."
"SAVE IT!" Tommy yelled. He didn't want to hear it.
He hopped back into his chair and rolled towards the door. The doctor called after him, "Tommy. This doesn't have to be a bad thing."
Tommy already had the door open by the time the doctor was done speaking. He turned his head, slightly, only so he could look at the doctor from the corner of his eye, "Say that again when your legs don't work and you can never roller blade again." He paused to watch the doctor's face go limp, "That's what I thought."
And then he left.
Tommy was rolling faster than he ever had before. All he wanted to do was get on the shuttle, get back to Earth and stay there, in his room, grounded. Every corner he rounded was like being in a Tokyo drift race, wheels spinning and squealing. He didn't much care, there were no people in the halls anyways.
No people…
Tommy slowed and listened.
No one was around. It was stone cold silent in the halls of the medic wing—it was never silent. There were always other people running around; doctors, nurses, trainees and patients. There wasn't a thing or a person anywhere. He continued on his way to the shuttle port being as quiet as possible.
At his last corner, Tommy sighed in relief. He could see the license plate of his shuttle still there, waiting for him. He rounded the corner with a smile on his face… that soon dropped once he saw nine figures, all dressed in B.R.A's, in front of him.
"Hello, Tommy," the one closest to him said. It had to a female, he figured, from how high-pitched it was, with the faintest traces of an accent. Japanese if he wasn't mistaken. She was holding an unconscious shuttle operative in one hand and an equally as conscious shuttle pilot in the other.
Tommy tried to put his chair in reverse to find that someone had blocked his way he was holding his chair, tight. He was starting to panic but still tried to hide that fact, "Who…"
The person made a card appear out of, what seemed like, thin air, held it for a moment and then flung it at Tommy. The small business-sized card landed neatly in his lap, face up and read, "Father needs you."
Tommy picked it up, "Father?"
"That's right, Tommy," she said, "He can fix you."
His ears perked up, even though he was ashamed for even listening to her, "Fix me? You mean he can… give me back my legs?" his voice cracked.
She giggled, "Yes, Tommy. Isn't being able to walk freely what you've wanted for years?"
Tommy was trying so hard to just tune her out but it's like her voice was drilling into whatever place it could just to get to him. He looked away and focused on the card, hard, so hard his palms were becoming sweaty and his eyes hurt. When he looked up again the person was standing over him, he hadn't even heard her move.
Her gloved hand reached out, he flinched away, and caressed his face, "Tommy," she whispered just his name, that's all she said, but it held so many feelings inside of it that it made Tommy slightly uncomfortable.
He looked at her and frowned, "Show me your face." He demanded.
She backed off a bit and started to chuckle again. She shrugged and with a thought, as all B.R.A's are designed, the helmet of the outfit reseeded.
Tommy's jaw dropped and everything seemed to flow in slow motion. Her chocolate brown eyes focusing upon him, her smooth, unblemished face, her long, black as night hair tumbling down until it reached the middle of her back. He couldn't believe she was standing before, walking at that. She no longer had the scar from A-Day over her left eyes. She looked good as knew.
"Mushi?" he whispered.
With that she addressed the other ninjas, "We did what we came here to do. The message has been given and received. Free the operatives and wake those up," she motioned at the shuttle operatives. She then turned back to Tommy and smiled, "He'll fix you, just like he did me. Join us."
Before Tommy could answer Mushi had reactivated her armor and ran off, the rest of her crew following. Seconds late her could see them all zooming off on their space cycles, back to earth through the shuttle port windows.
He looked down at his lap, the card was still there glaring at him. Fix me…
Sad stuff dude, sad stuff.
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((also this is the longest chapter now woooooo!))
