…Transmission Continued…

Numbuh 362 was twiddling her pen between her two fingers when Numbuh 86 strode into her office.

"Sir," she announced, "The supplies are all packed up and ready to be taken to the Storage Base. With your permission, we'll send it down."

No response. The Supreme Leader simply flipped her pen into her other hand.

"Um… Sir?"

"Hm? Yeah, sure Numbuh 86. Permission granted."

Numbuh 86 cocked her head and came closer to her desk. "Something wrong?"

The pen was dropped down onto the desk as Numbuh 362 leaned back into her chair. "I feel like I've done a terrible thing, Fanny."

She looked at her feet, not sure of a way to respond.

"I mean, should I have just let Nigel be replaced like that?"

"You had no other choice, sir."

"But I'm the Supreme Leader. I should have the choice. After all, I run things around here."

Numbuh 86 stepped up so she was facing her Supreme Leader directly. "Sir, I've been around for many years. I've seen all the Supreme Leaders come to face this kind of thing. But you must know, even as the Supreme Leader, we're not always given choices. The Code Module has been around for centuries. And, 'as operatives of this great organization, we must fulfill our obligation-'"

"'-To respecting and honoring the Code Module and its decisions.' I'm well aware of the Module Pledge, Fanny."

"So then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that it obviously made a stupid decision last week."

"Nothing's ever perfect."

"Don't you get it, Fanny?" She stood. "The Code Module made the dim-witted decision of replacing Nigel with Mark as Numbuh 1, which may very well have been a malfunction of some sort, and I wasn't able to overcome that order. Is that in any way rational?"

"Sir, I know it can be difficult, but it's your responsibility to stay by the book."

She dug deep for a manner of further protest, but she couldn't argue with the rules. Rules are rules. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right."

"I just feel sorry for Sector V. I can't imagine how they must feel about all this."

"Wahoo! Numbuh 4 leads tha team into victory with only five seconds on tha clock!"

Numbuh 2 tossed his football helmet aside. "Yeah, well, football's not really my sport anyway."

"That's obvious," Numbuh 3 declared as she took off her helmet to reveal an expression equally disappointed-looking as her teammate's.

Numbuhs 1 and 4 high-fived each other, aware of undeniable victory.

A high-pitched whistle rang out. Numbuh 5 was returning with a large bag, her arm extended to show it to her teammates. "Put th' game on pause, guys. Numbuh 5's got th' goods." By this, she prompted a stampede of hungry amateur football players. In no time at all, loud chewing was destroying the serene peacefulness of the empty park.

"So what's next on the agenda?" Numbuh 2 asked through his mouthful of peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Numbuh 1 swallowed. "I should be getting back to the Treehouse. I have lots to do tonight. We're going to need some sort of penetration plan if we're going to infiltrate the teenager's hideout tomorrow."

"Yeah, plus Ah got a kajillion math questions ta do."

Numbuh 5 rolled her eyes. "You mean the ones assigned to us last week."

"Yeah, those ones."

Numbuh 3 held up a sandwich. "Nobody tried the tuna sandwiches Numbuh 4 made."

"That's the reason, Numbuh 3."

Numbuh 1 chuckled as Numbuh 4 stuck his tongue out at Numbuh 2.

"Aw, come on," she assured, holding up the tuna sandwich. "It can't be that bad." And with that, she took a big bite out of it, chewing curiously until her face twisted into a look of disgust and horror. "Looks like we're back to square one then," she proclaimed, looking at the sandwich.

Numbuh 5 glanced at her watch. "Well, after this we probably should be headin' back. It ain't safe t' leave him in th' Treehouse alone for this long."

"Poor guy's probably hungry."

"Perfect." Numbuh 4 pulled another sandwich out of the bag. "He can have my tuna sandwich."

The others looked at each other.

"What's say we stop by Bobby Burgers?"

"Sounds good."

He noticed the photograph. It was kind of hard to miss; it was taped right in front of where he worked. It stood out no matter how many times he tried to blend it in. He surrounded it with colorful photographs and posters of people he idolized and cars he was saving up for. But nothing made him not notice the photograph every time he sat down at that desk. Usually, he noticed it and ignored it. This time, he grabbed it and threw it as hard as he could. A useless attempt. It simply fluttered to the floor not even two feet away. It landed with the front facing up. His ten year-old self and his ten year-old childhood friends stared back at him.

Smiling, he picked it up off the floor. It wasn't a bad reminder. It was what kept him on his mission. He admired the hair he had. He'd always had great hair. He was proud of the way he used to always comb it to one side, mess it up again, and then straighten it back with his fingers. As a kid, he used to style his brother's hair. He ended up giving him a mullet by mistake once. His mother wasn't happy about that. As he sat back down, he stuck the photograph back to where it was.

"Hey, Gabe?" The door creaked open. "Got a minute?"

"Yeah, sure. Come on in."

Cree walked in with a clipboard. "Just making sure you got no problems with those Moonbase blueprints. Locate a route yet?"

"Working on it." Gabriel watched the photograph flutter back onto his desk. He should replace that tape.

"Need any help?"

"N'aw, I'm good."

She watched him flip the photograph so the image was facing downwards. She felt for him. "It was his decision to join."

"He doesn't know what he's getting into."

"Mark's a smart kid."

"Yeah, but he's still a kid. How many kids do you know that are as smart as he is?"

"Good point," she said, knowing she probably shouldn't mention her little sister.

"I'm worried for him."

"When he's thirteen, he'll start to get it."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair. "You know, when we were in the Kids Next Door, I didn't have a single thought of ever betraying them."

"None of us did, Gabe."

"So what about Mark? Being a kid was a pain and all, but still. We had some good times together."

"Not necessarily because of the KND."

"Then why?"

"Because we were together, all of us." She punched him in the arm. "Mark's got friends, Gabe, don't you worry about that."

"I guess. But it just won't be the same for him as it was for me. When I was his age, I really hoped he would join the Kids Next Door like me. I'm glad he gets the chance to. But the thing is..." He sighed. "The thing is that he's not like other kids."

"Exactly." Cree walked around him, her arms crossed. "He's smart, responsible, loyal, he's got great hair…"

"Thanks to me."

She laughed as she leaned against his shoulders from behind him. "And he's got a good brother."

Gabriel tilted his head back and smiled up at her. "Thanks."

"You're right that he's different. But it's obviously better that way."

He rolled up a large piece of paper and handed it to his longtime friend. "Here. See if they'll go with this."

She accepted them and left. Gabriel got out the tape to replace the worn-out ones stuck to the back of the photograph.

Numbuh 2 pretended to threaten the balance of the tray of fast-food.

"Quit it, Numbuh 2," Numbuh 5 insisted.

"Wait, oh, oh!" He regained balance with a smile on his face. "Okay, I'm good."

She rolled her eyes and turned the knob. "Hey, Nigel? We're coming in."

"So get your pants back on and put down the microphone."

Numbuh 5 smacked him, this time making him really lose balance of the tray.

"I'm decent. Come in."

They did. She pushed the door open for them to step in, and there he was. Sitting upright on the bed, holding that open book in front of him. He was never much of a reader. He read guide books and formal stuff, but not often would he pick up a novel and read it unless it was for school. None of them even knew what he was reading.

"What'cha doin'?"

"Reading."

"'The book any good?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna come down and watch TV with us?"

"No thank you."

Numbuh 5 put her hands on her hips. "Why not?"

"I don't feel like it."

"Ya got nothin' else t' do."

"I'm reading."

Numbuh 2, doing his best to avoid any conflict, quickly placed the tray next to his old friend. "I took out the pickles like you like it."

"Thanks," he replied, closing the book while using his finger as a bookmark, and pulled the tray closer to him.

As Numbuh 2 made his way to the exit, he passed Numbuh 5 with a concerned expression. "We should just leave him alone," he said, making sure he was only loud enough for her to hear.

"It's been a week, Numbuh 2," she answered

"I guess he's just not ready. Let's just go."

And so Numbuh 2 led the way, Numbuh 5 following with a slight sense of disappointment. She looked back and saw that he had discarded the hamburger and fries and was back to his book. At the doorway, she stopped, Numbuh 2 stopping on instinct as well.

"Y' know, Nigel, y' ain't alone on this. If you'll just let us get ya through this, y' wouldn't be hurtin' so much."

"I told you I'm fine about it."

"Uh… Numbuh 5, we should probably-"

"If you're fine, then why won't ya just start acting normal?"

Numbuh 1.1 closed the book. "Can it, Abby?" he shouted. "Can things really ever be normal again?"

"I know how weird it is right now, but just give it some time. You'll get used to it."

"I've tried. Heaven knows how I tried."

"Seriously, Numbuh 5, we should just-"

"You're not trying hard enough. Stayin' in this room ain't gonna help you get back on yo feet. Just come downstairs with us and…"

They were taken aback when Numbuh 1.1 threw the book to the ground. "For goodness sake, will you get off my back? I can handle this on my own!"

She had snapped him. Usually she did that by teasing him, or by some sort of silly argument. But never when she was trying to help him out. Numbuh 2 shrunk away, trying to hint to Numbuh 5 that now was the time to leave him alone. Without even noticing him, she complied.

"Fine. Stay in here." She turned around and followed Numbuh 2 out. "See ya tomorrow."

The door closed, trapping his mixed emotions in the room with him. He sat down on the floor, his back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest. Finally, he did what he'd wanted to do for so long; he cried.

…Interrupting Transmission…

The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.