Numbuh 362, KND Soopreme Leaduh

At a completely unnatural speed, Numbuh 1's hands close around my throat. The overwhelming chill seeps through the fabric. My heart thumps, my brain scrambling for a solution. I attempt to pry them off, but I can't fight the iron grip.

Thank God for the invention of turtle necks.

Seeing my resistance, his mismatched brows furrow as he tightens. The pressure makes me gag. My breath comes out in straggling wheezes.

I open my mouth to speak, but I can hardly get air. Hopeless, I claw at the back at him.

"Numbuh 1," I spit out after several moments of agony, "please."

Nothing.

I grab his wrists and I push.

Still nothing.

My vision begins to blur with the lack of oxygen and hope.

"Numbuh 1," I repeat. "You're Numbuh 1." I search the depths of his different eyes for a reaction other than menace, but I find none. Not even a glimmer. But how can that be? He's not completely gone. Yet.

My actions may be cast aside as merely wishful, but I know they're not. He said himself that Numbuh 78 was teetering on the border of insanity. Normal, yet out of her mind. Only when the virus wholly took control was she a goner. I don't know much about the fundamentals of Delightfulization, but it should be the same for him.

I shut my eyes to block out the terrible reality, begging any god who's listening for a miracle. However, as Numbuh 1 continues to crush my windpipe, it seems that I'm being ignored.

Heavy in my pocket is my little bit of circuit. Would it make any difference if I shocked him with it again? Any at all? I doubt it.

Man, I can't even imagine what he's going through at the moment. Nigel Uno is hanging on by a thread, gradually reducing to embers. I mean, his brain is so screwed up, he doesn't even realize that if he really wants me Delightfulized, all he has to do is place his hands a few inches higher...

"Numbuh 1," I gasp. "Stop. Just stop it. Please, just stop it. It's me, Numbuh 362! I swear, it's me!"

His different eyes darken.

"Rachel!" I shriek, my words registering as terribly incorrect. "I'm Rachel, your friend. Don't you remember? We've known each other since, like, ever!"

My vision begins to dull, and bile rises in my restricting throat. I dig my nails into his wrists, praying to any being who's listening that his nerves are still working.

He hisses in pain and anger flashes, but he doesn't let me go.

It's working! I wrench a numb hand up before bringing it across his face. A sickening sound explodes as I make a contact.

"You shouldn't be doing this," I say. "You wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for Father. He's the real enemy here, Numbuh 1!"

Lip curling back, he lets out a feral growl as his fury only mounts.

"Yes, Numbuh 1. You're Numbuh 1. Not Nigel. That's what Father did to you. He turned you against your friends; he turned everyone against their friends. You don't remember anything in the past for a reason."

His finger grip my throat so tightly I gag. My lightheadedness almost makes me black out.

"You attacked Numbuh 12 for a reason too. Father wanted you to believe that she was your superior, but in the back of your head you knew she wasn't. See? You can still do this. I'm—" I hesitate "—Numbuh 362. You knew me, and I know you. I know that you wouldn't do this, not if it wasn't for Father."

I watch as he swallows hard.

"That's right! Father is the enemy here, not me, not the Kids Next Door! C'mon, Numbuh 1, you can do this—I know you can."

My words hang in the air like a tangible presence. Numbuh 1 remains unreadable, but his hands have begun to shake.

"You can do this," I whisper.

It happens so fast. His hands release my bruised throat, and in the blink of an eye, he's gone.

The door through which he fled swings from the abrupt force. I suddenly see three as I sink to the tiled floor, rasping and breathing like I've been held underwater. The relief is glorious, and it nearly trumps my dry mouth.

My fingers fly up to my neck, furiously searching for a cold spot of transformation under my collar. But there is none. All that meets me is warm, very human flesh that throbs as my pads brush over.

Relief causes my body to sag, and as my limbs collapse in a lifeless heap that I can't be bothered to fix, I begin to cry.