WARNING
Attention all Kids Next Door operatives. The information contained in this file has been labeled confidential. Viewing, tampering with, or sharing of this file is strictly prohibited. Any operative caught doing so will be subject to immediate decommissioning.
To younger operatives or operatives wishing to retain
their innocence; This classified information
foreshadows the horrors of Adulthood including drugs,
sex, swearing, and abuse.
You have been warned.
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Code: [RESTRICTED]
Written by OfficiallyWrong with properties owned by Tom Warburton
and Cartoon Network
Accessing...
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KIDS NEXT DOOR CODE MODULE
File 2237810
[RESTRICTED]
January 21st, 2008: Kids Next Door Operative, Nigel Uno, Codename: 1, age eleven, former leader of Sector V, was the first human from Earth selected to become a member of the Galactic Kids Next Door.
March 31st, 2015: Nigel Uno of the G:KND sent a final transmission to Earth. The footage was lost of this event along with the rest of the evidence of the existence of the Galactic Kids Next Door from the planet. Here is what it said:
ATTENTION PEOPLE OF EARTH
The aging virus is beginning to spread
to other planets
We cannot allow you to travel throughout the
galaxy and contaminate the rest of the universe.
Therefore
The planet Earth has been quarantined until further notice.
You are no longer permitted to travel outside of your own atmosphere.
If you do, there will be consequences.
For the sake of the galaxy, this must be so.
GALACTIC KIDS NEXT DOOR RULEZ
-Uno
Nigel Uno has gone off radar. Should he ever return, he is to be terminated before knowledge of his existence reaches the other operatives. No conditions.
Now loading...
Code: [RESTRICTED]
Operation: P.R.O.L.O.G.U.E.
Paraphrased
Recap
Of
Lost
Operatives
Growing
Up
Eventually
INCOMING TRANSMISSION...
Source: Unknown
They say that growing up is just a part of life, that eventually we all have to get older. Our youth fades. We can't be children forever. That's what they say, the Adults. That's how they first get you, how they control you. Some say aging is a disease, spending a lifetime in search of its cure. Others say it's a psychosis, a mental complex that infiltrates your brain and feeds on your mind until there is nothing left. It cannot be cured with an elixir or a booster shot. Some believe it's a conspiracy, pitting human against human under the pretense of "experience" verses "progress", "wisdom" verses "innocence." And those who follow this path are destined to be torn apart at its seams. Yet the conclusion is always the same: we must grow up. We have no choice. We live so that we may forget. We fight so that we may betray. And for every kid who can make it to the other side unscathed, there are a thousand others tossed into the rubble.
In the beginning, the Adults used their power to oppress kids, forcing them to do back-breaking labor in the tapioca factories. They made them sit in prison cells that brainwashed them into believing Adult propaganda. They shoved tasteless food down their throats and banned them from participating in executive decisions. The world was chaos. War and famine spread as the Adults' selfishness grew. In turn, the kids fought back, using the coveted "Book of KND" to aid them and their plight for freedom. The organization "The Kids Next Door" was built using this book as its doctrine. It was formed many times and forgotten many times. However, no matter what hardships they faced, the kids always found a way to fight. Despite their resistance, children were not free. For they could not stop themselves from aging and turning into the very enemy they hated.
So, in 1999, after the Junior High Rebellion nearly wiped out the Kids Next Door, a movement was signed stating that all operatives would be decommissioned after their thirteenth birthday. All memories of the Kids Next Door would be wiped clean from their minds. This kept the KND's secrets strictly hidden, but as a result, more and more former operatives joined forces with the Adults, no longer able to relate to their younger adversaries. Some, out of fear of decommissioning, betrayed the Kids Next Door in bitter resentment. Others left peacefully, but they would never remember their childhoods, their friends, or their cause.
However, there were few, the lucky few, who escaped this fate. They went on to keep their memories and work as spies of the TEENZ, the adolescent anti-Kids organization, and depending on their performance, even continue on to spy on the Adults when the time came. These operatives known as the Teens Next Door were chosen because, according to the selection committee, they were the best of the best. They held the most experience, the most skill, and above all, the most passion. Playing villains to become heroes, they watched from the shadows, manipulating their way into the hearts of their enemies. Their lives were for the Kids Next Door. All they did, they did for them.
Abigail Lincoln was one such operative.
Abigail Lincoln was inducted into the KND as a young girl under the codename: Numbuh 5. Trained by her older sister, Cree (former Numbuh 11), she went on to be the official leader of Sector V after Cree's eventual betrayal. However, she later resigned the position to Nigel Uno, Numbuh 1. During his run as leader, Sector V consisted of 5 operatives:
NUMBUH 5: ABIGAIL LINCOLN
Espionage and Second in Command
Teenage Status: Teens Next Door Representative
NUMBUH 4: WALLABEE BEATLES
Hand to hand combat and weapons expert
Teenage status: Decommissioned
NUMBUH 3: KUKI SANBAN
Diversionary tactician and medical specialist
Teenage Status: Decommissioned
NUMBUH 2: HOAGIE P. GILLIGAN JR.
2x4 Technology Officer
Teenage Status: Decommissioned
NUMBUH 1: NIGEL UNO
Head Tactician and Sector Leader.
Teenage Status: Earth Representative of the Galactic KND
Abigail took over the team after Nigel Uno joined the Galactic Kids Next Door, eventually moving on to the position of Soopreme Leader for her final year. She was the only one of the four remaining Earth operatives to keep her memories, advancing to the next stage. Any personal contact with her former teammates was strictly prohibited by the TND. Such contact would compromise her position as a spy within the organization.
So, Abigail Lincoln spent her adolescent years trying to forget the past, her friends, her life, and the fact that she would never, ever, be a kid again.
This was the fate of the TND. This was the sacrifice she made.
This is her story: The story of Sector V, The G:KND, Nigel Uno
and the planet that used to be Earth.
Episode 1
March 19th, 2015
On that early morning, Abby awoke at the sound of her alarm. Her long black hair snaked around her, messy and banded. She groaned, stretching her arm over to the nightstand where her phone played an upbeat but simple song. She thumbed around the wood, trying to find the device. She was beginning to regret not having set an actual alarm clock. Annoyed, she finally grabbed the phone from the desk and held it up over her head. 6:00am. Her finger swiped the screen, disarming the alarm with her security code. She plopped the phone back down on the bed, not even wanting to think about school that day. After staring at the ceiling for a few minutes she finally resolved that there was no choice. Pushing herself off the bed, she tossed her legs over the edge, her black shorts sticking to her thighs. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the knots which twisted with its frizzy texture. Sliding off the edge, she grabbed a towel for her shower.
When she returned, there was a message on her cell phone. She looked at it with dismay. Twisting the towel over her hair, she listened to the message, hoping it wasn't urgent. She re-dialed the number, sitting down at the mirror. The phone sat between her ear and her shoulder. It rang twice before a boy picked up on the other end.
"Hey," he said in a deep voice. "I've been calling all morning. Where were you?"
Abby's face didn't change. She pulled out the nail clippers and stacked her toes on the dresser drawer. "Showerin'," Clip. Clip. Her toes flexed.
"I need a favor," he said quickly.
Abby nodded. "Talk to me."
She listened intently and gave him a simple word of confirmation before hanging up. She pulled the towel off of her hair and slipped on a pair of looser blue shorts, a black mid-drift top and a pair of gold hoop earrings, which had become her signature look at school. She scurried down the stairs. Her father sat at the stove, simmering something in a frying pan. He turned as he heard Abby come in the kitchen.
"Mornin', Sugar Plum!" he said in a cheery morning voice. "What'll it be? Poached or scrambled?"
"Not today, Dad. I gotta go to the library before class." She plopped down on the tile floor, stuffing her feet into her sneakers.
He pouted. "No time for breakfast with your old Dad?"
Abby stood up, running into the living room to grab her backpack. She shouted into the kitchen. "Gotta keep those grades up."
Her dad grinned. "Look at my Girl! All grown up! With the school work and the college applications and the..." Abby gave him a look. "Oh, you know what I'm talkin' about."
"Dad. We talked about this. You can't make those jokes no more."
He scoffed. "You and your generation. With your political correctness and your kale salads..."
"Daddy."
"Innocent until proven guilty. That's what I say."
"Daddy!"
"Oh, alright!" He rolled his eyes. "You and your sister. Who's comin' tomorrow, by the way, so don't forget."
"I'll be out soon as the bell rings."
She swung the backpack over her shoulder and started to head for the door. Arriving at the knob, she froze, a hand reaching toward the top of her head. She spun around on her heels, looking frantically all over the kitchen. She sprinted to the living room. There, sitting on the hat rack at the front door, was a worn, red baseball cap. Abby sighed with relief. She stretched the cap over her hair, wearing the brim in the back. With a grin, she sauntered back over to the kitchen.
Mr. Lincoln noticed the hat. "Surprised that still fits you." He chuckled.
Abby pulled her bangs through the strap of her cap. She ran over and pecked her father on the cheek.
Sprinting out the door, she got her black bike from the garage. She wasn't looking forward to seeing her sister. Cree had been off to college for three years. She was convinced that because Abby was now a teenager, they would have no more reason to fight. In reality, it only made Abby resist her company more.
McClintock High was a typical high school. The TEENZ were the popular kids, an exclusive group that harassed children for the sake of a joke. Their upper middle-class status allowed them to flaunt their financial prowess, wearing the latest fashions and keeping up to date with celebrity news. They were mainly comprised of jocks and cheerleaders, student council and other positions of power within a typical high school structure. Because of this, the TEENZ reigned supreme, even though for the most part they weren't very nice about it.
Those who opposed this conformity were quickly outcasted along with the others who simply didn't meet their expectations. One student, Wallabee Beetles, had made it his life's mission to piss off the TEENZ as much as he could, fervently disagreeing with their social politics. He chose to do so by, in his words, "not giving two shits in a bucket" about them. And so, Wally spent most of his time under the concrete steps leading to the high school, smoking still-illegal marijuana or jamming on his guitar in protest.
That would show them.
That particular morning, Wally was late for class again. He decided last-minute not to go as the rest of the kids filed out. He knew the system well enough to know if he strategically skipped different days throughout the week, no one would suspect he was gone. After all, it wasn't like he was going to learn anything in class anyway. He sat down under the stairs, drowning out the noise with his thick headphones.
Suddenly, the music stopped. Wally felt his ears, realizing that his headphones had been swiped clean off of them. They unplugged from his iPod, causing the music to blare out loud. Quickly, he hit the pause button. He turned around, growling with annoyance. He reached for his headphones but stopped when he realized who had snatched them. A girl stood, smiling at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She had full cheeks to compliment her large grinning mouth, which were almost always blushed with joy.
"Hey!" Wally shouted in his thick Australian accent, his face softening as he recognized the beaming grin. "There you are. I've been waitin' for ya."
"Really?" She glowed with excitement. "You didn't have to do that."
Wally blushed, scratching the back of his neck. "No reason to even come to school if you ain't here." He watched the girl's smile grow even bigger, her white teeth now taking up half of her face. "And gimmie back my headphones!" He reached for them again, but the girl pulled them away.
"No way!" She shouted, teasingly putting them on her head and running up the stairs. "I'm keeping these!"
Wally followed in pursuit. "Kuki!" he shouted the girl's name, chasing after her. "Those were expensive!"
Kuki Sanban leaned over the concrete, looking down at her boyfriend. "Well, I might be convinced to part with them..." she bartered. "For a price."
"What do you want?"
"Your soul!" Kuki hissed, making a bad impression of a monstrous demons she saw on TV.
Wally leaned up against the swirling bannister. "You already took that a long time ago," he jeered.
"Jerk face." Kuki's cheeks turned pinker than usual.
Wally jumped over the bannister, looking at her in the face. "How about an offering?" He leaned into her, his lips sweetly touching hers.
She pulled away, a pensive look on her face. "Hm..." She pretended to be unimpressed.
Wally lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing back her silky black hair. He kissed her again, both hands holding her face. He slipped the headphones off of her head, putting them back around his own neck. They were almost at the point of a full-blown make out session when a magazine plopped itself between their lips. They pulled away from each other, sticking their tongues out in disgust from the inked paper.
"Hey!" Wally yelled.
"No public displays of affection!" a stern voice shouted in reply. Wally looked to see a hall monitor, Joe Balooka, holding the magazine. "You wanna jig, go find a dance hall!" he shouted. "Okay, people! Let's get movin'! Bell's about to ring!" He walked back up the stairs, suddenly jolting into a sprint. "Hey! you! Stop licking that water fountain!"
Wally rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bloody Hall Monitors."
"He's just doing his job," Kuki explained.
"Pft. Jobs..." His eyes brightened again. "Hey, check out this new album cover I made!" He jumped onto the concrete banister and slid down to the bottom. He pulled a notepad out of his inside jacket pocket. Kuki gazed in awe at the swooping watercolors on the page. It didn't look like much of anything.
"Oooh! It's pretty!" she beamed. "So psychedelic!"
Wally grinned with pride. "Right?" he said, tilting his chin upward with an air of self-importance. "It's abstract."
Her eyes widened in amazement. "Wow."
"I know," he gloated as he clutched his chest. "That's part of bein' a tortured artist. Music is the only thing that truly gets how we really feel." Slipping his notebook back in his jacket, he kicked his legs over the side of the steps toward Kuki. "I already have a song written for it. It's called...Intolerance. I'll play it for you later tonight!"
"Aww. Can't you just play it for me right now? I wanna hear it!" She asked, pouting her lips.
Wally got a mischievous look on his face. "Well, if you really want to hear it, we could always..." He moved his pointer and middle finger across the air, simulating legs.
Kuki shook her head. "I have to stay for free period," she said still wearing her innocent smile. "We're having an extra practice before the pep rally."
Wally groaned, his face falling. "I can't believe you still hang out with those prissy girls."
But Kuki took his hand. "I know you don't like it, but I can't give up just like that." She smiled a determined smile. "That's letting the conformists win!"
Wally's face dusted pink. "W-well..." He used his other hand to scratch the back of his head. "If it makes you happy..."
The bell started to ring, ushering all of the students inside. Kuki kissed her boyfriend on the nose. "Time for class!" she said glowingly. "You're coming to the pep rally tomorrow, right?"
"I might show," Wally shrugged. As she turned to go, he grabbed onto her hand tighter. "Kuki!" She peeked over her shoulder as Wally gave her a supportive smile. "Good luck."
He let go of her hand as she nodded in response. Watching her bound up the stairs was like a cup of coffee in the morning. It energized him, made him believe that he could be that happy if he tried. He lay back down on the banister, folding his arms over his head as a pillow. He smiled as the sun peeked over the clouds, filling the air with a warm light.
Despite being a total bummer, life was pretty sweet.
Abby shook her head, clutching her Anatomy & Physiology book in her arms. The meeting she had been called to had been a false alarm. It was just a group activity where catty girls and sex-crazed boys sat around and tried to make idle conversation, usually at someone else's expense. The TEENZ hardly ever actually made plans nowadays. They would get together and gossip about other people at the school, maybe talk about who they were seeing and who they were fucking on the side. Abby didn't care for any of that. She knew going to the meeting would be a complete waste of time, but it made her feel better to know she wasn't missing anything crucially important. If the TEENZ had planned something and she didn't pick up on it, the results would be catastrophic.
She stopped at the door to her classroom, her eyes catching a pair of brown large brown tennis shoes. They backed up a few inches, letting her through.
"S-sorry," a voice murmured. Abby looked up to see a boy standing in front of her. He was big, with broad shoulders like a football player's. His blue jeans were worn and baggy, his hair stuffed into a grey beanie that matched his grey and blue hoodie. His large hands gripped tightly to the straps of his backpack as the light flashed over his rimless glasses, hiding his eyes from her. He turned his head, avoiding her gaze.
Abby forced herself to smile. "Nah, it's cool. Go on ahead." She tried to stop her voice from quivering, but it was a challenge.
He nodded once, pushing his glasses up from the end of his nose. "Thanks." He walked by her to the classroom. Abby felt the muscles in her cheeks relax as her smile disappeared. She clutched her book tighter. Swallowing hard, she opened the door and walked into the room, taking her seat in the third row from the front.
The teacher, Dr. Prageeta, was a stoutly Indian woman with a pronounced nose and a wide, welcoming smile. After about twenty minutes of lecture, however, her enthusiasm would dull to a content eyebrow raise, and twenty more minutes later, into a flattened pout. There was nothing she could do to keep the students invested and thus had given up quite some time ago. The students themselves came in many capacities. Some ready and eager to learn, others sneaking texts on their phones or posting snapchat messages on how bored they were.
Abby often sat quietly and took notes, her assigned seat perfectly positioned in the room so that she could be seen by the teacher if she wanted to answer a question, but not so in the forefront that she would draw unnecessary attention to herself. She was a mindful sort of student, one that kept to herself but often had the correct answer when someone was looking for it. The only unfortunate things about her seat were those placed around her. To the right, Jimmy, a boy with fluffed hair, a turned-up nose, and a propensity toward speaking out of turn, often bit on his pencil, consumed in what he believed was deep, complex thought. If there was a question asked, make no mistake that it would be Jimmy Richards would be the first person to answer it, correct or not. To her left, another boy, Tony, would bite on his own pencil and try desperately to keep up with the material that clearly moved way too fast for his comprehension. Abby would try to help him but found it difficult to make conversation with the guy as he was too nervous that he would say something offensive. However, it was not the two boys sitting beside her that gave her the most trouble, but the one sitting behind.
The boy was not a bother to her. In fact, he never said a word to her. Typically, Abby could get through the day without even remembering he was there, so long as she kept at her work. However, today she had the misfortune of running into him in the hall and had made the mistake of moving her eyes up past the laces of his shoes. As soon as she made it to her seat, a sinking feeling settled into her stomach. Most days, she could avoid thinking about Hoagie P. Gilligan Jr. Most days he would just be a boy who sat behind her in her Anatomy and Physiology class, the way he was meant to be.
But not today.
The TND had made a special effort so that Abby would not have to interact with any of her old teammates on a regular basis. There were exceptions to this, of course, the most notable being grueling school assemblies. This year, for the first time in many, they had made a calculation error and were forced to place Abby in the same class as former operative Numbuh 2 of Sector V. Though the leader of the TND McClintock branch insisted that this was a terrible idea, in the end there was nothing that could be done as both needed another science credit to graduate high school on time. Both had already taken Chemistry and Biology, albeit in different classes, and neither had the math requirement to take AP Physics, it being a senior-level class. The best the TND could do was manipulate the seating chart so the two of them could not see each other at the same time, be partnered together for any projects, or speak to each other at all.
Hoagie, of course, was oblivious to this fact. He would spend much of the class periods scribbling notes, brushing off pencil shavings and occasionally muttering to himself about one thing or another. Today, Abby was especially locked on his behavior, not being able to tear her mind away from her curiosity. He sniffled, adjusting his glasses to see the nonsense he had just written in a clearer view. The TND had planned so meticulously that there was no casual way to catch a glimpse at him, not one that he wouldn't notice. Yet, he was close enough that every little sound he made bounced off of her like a springboard. It was better than before, she had to admit, when she sat behind him in a similar awkward position, when her eyes would drift over to him and linger there for entire minutes on end, wondering.
Prageeta took out sheets of paper. "Alright, class. Put your binders and books under your desk."
Abby flinched as everyone groaned with complaint. Another pop-quiz. It would be the last one before the test next Thursday. Hoagie did not groan, but quietly did as instructed. It seemed he was prepared. Abby snapped herself out of her daze. She had her own quiz to worry about. She took the pile of white slips and passed them along the line. She cringed at the bold letters written on the top:
THE LIMBIC SYSTEM
Irony was such a bitch.
She answered the questions, all in order, all correct, and all at a pretty good clip. She was about three from the end, explaining the function of the hippocampus, when she heard a screech coming from behind her. It was the irritating sound of a chair being pulled out and dragged along the floor, rather than being picked up. She turned around, like the others in the class, to see Hoagie walking up to turn in his quiz, first of anyone. This was new for him, she noted. Usually, he waited until most other quizzes and tests were turned in before he reported his own. She knew this because he liked to doodle on his quizzes little molecular compounds and rocket ships, which she could always see on the back when Prageeta handed back papers. She didn't know why he did this but found it a bit of a relief for some reason.
Abby couldn't help it. Her eyes followed him down the row, up to the teacher. They broke away as soon as he came back the other way and Abby realized that he would've been quite disturbed had he caught her looking. She finished her quiz, keeping her eyes firmly on the floor as she turned it in at the front. Prageeta seemed worried by it but said nothing. The rest of the class had five more minutes to complete their quiz...which meant the next five minutes were nothing but silence. Well, almost silence.
Scribble scribble...grunt. Sniff. Scribble. Wipe. Stack. Grunt. Crumple. Wrong.
There was a great sigh behind her, one heavy with anticipation and frustration. Then the process would repeat.
Scribble. Wipe. Scribble, no. Scrub. Grunt. What? Crumple. Repeat. Crumple. Tear. Shit. Grunt. Scribble. Sniff. Wait. Crumple. Ugh.
Most people would wonder at this point what the poor kid was doing with all of these scribbles. Unfortunately, Abigail knew exactly what he was doing and what was to come of it.
At long last the bell rang for second period and the students raced out of the room in order to make it out in time. Abby stood up, picked up her book and notebook and pushed in her chair. She turned around to see Hoagie, still scribbling away at his notebook. She bit her lip, standing there for a while to see if he would notice. He didn't.
"Hey," she said, trying to sputter out words. She hadn't really spoken to him beyond a few sentences since the day before her thirteenth birthday. There was no answer. Abby stiffened. "Hey, Nerd." Still nothing. Abby thought for a moment. "Mr. Gilligan?"
"Huh?" Hoagie's head shot up, his notebooks falling off the desk. His glasses were lopsided on his face.
Abby smiled. "Hi."
He blinked. "H-Hi?"
"Class is over."
Hoagie looked around, as though he too were in a fog of some kind before popping out of his chair. "Aww man!" He went to grab his books from the bottom of the desk. His frantic gesture caused him to trip and fall onto the tile floor of the room.
"Need help?"
"What? No. I'm g-!" He banged his head on the top of the desk, seething in air as to not draw attention to himself. "I'm good."
Abby bent down anyway, noticing a small red flash drive that had tumbled out of an open slot in his pocket. She picked it up. "This yours?" she asked. Hoagie was too busy scooping up the papers that had fallen out of his book to listen. Then, her eyes got a glimpse of one of the notebooks in his backpack. Her mouth hung open as she read aloud the words. "...Memory loss..."
That caught Hoagie's attention. "Hey!" He pulled his pack closer to him. "Don't look in there!"
"Sorry." Abby held the flash drive out to him. "Abby found this on the floor."
Hoagie flushed pink, taking the device. "Oh. Thanks." He looked embarrassed for some reason, something beyond just the normal humiliation of dropping your things all over.
Abby stood, picking up her book and notebook. "Sure thing, Numbmm—" She bit her tongue.
"What?" he asked. Abby couldn't find anything to say. Six years of not speaking and she had nothing to say. She felt like a jerk. He cleared his throat, slipping on his backpack and standing up, averting his eyes from her once more. "Anyway, thanks. I'll, uh, just...yeah. Bye." He walked swiftly out the door where Prageeta gave him a soft goodbye, which he ignored.
Abby caught a glimpse of something on the ground. "Hey! Hold up!" She grabbed the paper, chasing after him. "You dropped-" He couldn't hear her in the cacophony of bustling students. Curiosity got the better of her. She flipped over the page to see what looked to be a series of doodles and figures, along with scribbles of notes:
MEMORIES ARE NOT PHOTOGRAPHS developing photographic memory (hehe) PAST-memories. Empty. TRAUMA. proper explanation. MeMORIES LOST Temporary. Childhood-empty. Impact? Hypnosis? Repression = trauma = hypnosis. Theta-waves.
Hypnosis: To access memory, traumatic repressed, hypnotism to repress/derepress memory. PTSD - ABUSE - WAR - MEMORIAL FLEXIBILITY
flexibility probability increased to 33.333%
Abby's jaw hung for a moment, taking in the notes very carefully. She held her breath. Hoagie was studying memories? But why? She turned the paper over before the spark of hope could ignite. Just then, she saw someone coming out of the corner of her eye and quickly tried to stuff the paper in a pocket, which she realized all to soon she did not have.
"Abby!" He had noticed her. She crammed the paper into her book and clutched it tightly to her chest. He sauntered over to her, his hands cooly slipped into his pockets. It was Maurice. "Hey. Thanks for covering for me this morning. You really saved my ass."
He peered at her with his usual warm smile. He was an attractive man with a built body and easy eyes. His long black dread locks were pulled into a ponytail, nearly half the length of Abby's own hair. It wasn't long before he realized that she was neither listening nor looking at him. Instead, her eyes had once again found the back of Hoagie's head in the bustling crowd. She enticingly watched the grey spot bob up and down amongst the others until it was slammed against a locker. Maurice frowned.
"Abby," he tried again, this time getting her attention.
She did not look startled to see him. "What? Abby's listenin'." She said this, and then proceeded to look off into the crowd, but could not locate what she was looking for.
Maurice sighed. "Anything to report?" he said, impatiently. There was no response. "Abby!"
"No! Nothin'!" She snapped back. "Why you keep yellin' at me?"
But Maurice crossed his arms. "You're distracted." She was quiet again. Maurice, having known Abby since she was very young, knew she was not much of a talker in general. However, he knew when even she was being too quiet. "Did something happen in class today?"
"No," came her direct answer. She was a good liar, but Maurice was a better judge. She knew she wasn't going to be able to hide it for long and the look on Maurice's face was indicating that he was not buying any of her bullshit today. "He's..." she began. Maurice's eyebrows raised. "Studyin' memories." She pulled out the paper and handed it to him. "For the science fair."
"Jesus," he grumbled as he took the paper. "You talked to him?"
"Only a second," Abby admitted.
Maurice scanned the paper. "I can't even read this..." He sneered at the chicken scratch.
Abby snatched it back. "It ain't for you to read!"
He sat back on his heels as he waited for her to calm down. "He's doing the science fair then." He shook his head. "He's stubborn I'll give him that."
Abby's shoulders sank. "I can't do it. Not again."
He sighed. "Abby—"
"It isn't fair."
"I know it's hard, but it's all we can do."
She grimaced. "You said last time was the last time."
"I know."
"That's what you said!"
"I know. I'm sorry."
There was a long pause. Abby's muscles tensed around her shoulders, her breath strained and audible. "I can't do it."
"So, you're just going to let things take their natural course?"
"Stop it—"
"Cause if you wanna risk exposing him to the TEENZ and letting them do whatever they want with him—"
"Oh fuck off, Maurice!" Abby snapped. immediately quieting her language as she saw a teacher pass. "It isn't easy, you know. He never smiles, he's always alone..." Her lips tightened. "He won't even look at me."
"That's not your problem."
"How can you say that?"
"Look, in a year none of this is gonna matter."
"It matters to me-"
"You have to graduate! You can't follow him college, or work...What if they all split off and went to different cities? Countries? What'll you do then? Are you gonna spy on them for the rest of their lives?"
Abby was silent.
"You know how this has to go." He sighed. "You wanna be their friend, you have to be their enemy. That's the job you signed up for. Remember, this isn't just about him. If the TEENZ did get ahold of him-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know." She took in a sharp inhale.
"I'm not trying to—"
"I'll take care of it."
"...I can do it, Abby. You don't have to put yourself through this."
"He's my teammate." She turned from him. "I don't want it to be no one else."
"Abby..."
"Abby's late for class," she said in a hushed tone as she started to walk away from him.
"Nigel will understand!"
She stopped.
"If he were here, he'd do the same thing."
But Abby's response was direct and immediate. "No. He wouldn't."
The cheerleaders met for practice every day after class, with the exception of pep rally preparation, which they added an extra practice during free period. Kuki had been on the squad since she was recruited in middle school and her enthusiasm for the sport only grew. Undoubtedly, she was the peppiest of them all, always coming to practice with a large smile on her face. Today was no exception.
The other girls waited impatiently for her to put on her uniform. Finally, she ran out, pom-poms in hand. She raced over to the center of the gym, holding her pom-poms close to her chest. She shook her hair, letting out a loud neigh!
"Hello, McClintock High!" She shouted, her eyes sparkling as she ran to greet the invisible audience. "Are you ready?"
A tall, brunette girl crossed her arms. "Um. What are you doing?"
Kuki blushed, her cheeks lifting into her eyes. "I'm getting the crowd pumped up!" she exclaimed, not missing a beat.
Another girl on the squad rolled her eyes. "What crowd? Nobody's here."
"Sanban," the Brunette said. "Mascots don't talk." She pouted her lips, as though she were talking to a young child.
Kuki nodded, ruffling her pom-poms in her hand. She had been the school Mascot for the McClintock Chargers for three years after no one else applied for the position. She had given the school a more feminine touch with her take on the horse, wearing bright red extensions in her hair and a flexible jumpsuit after the original costume mysteriously disappeared. She won two State mascot competitions and placed fifth in Nationals. Everyone in McClintock knew the Charger, whether they cared about sports or not. Still, despite all of her success, she missed actually cheering with her voice.
"I know," she finally replied. "But I was thinking-"
"Okay then," the Brunette smiled. Her name was Sandra, the cheer squad captain. She took her finger and drew a line over her lips.
"Sandie..." one of the cheerleaders groaned. "C'mon. We gotta start."
Sandra nodded, ushering Kuki to her corner. The cheer squad got into position, doing a series of floor cheers before setting up for the occasional lift. When it was Kuki's turn to interact with the squad, they would call her over with a whistle and mark out the steps that they would do full-out on the day of the rally. Kuki felt like this wasn't the safest way to go about things, but she never said anything about it. She didn't want to get on worse terms with the cheerleaders and lose her Mascot job.
The practice let out early. The cheerleaders left, gossiping about people Kuki didn't know and gushing over movies she had never seen. In the old days, she would try and follow them and make conversation, but she knew better now. She stayed until the last squad member, Vicki, was finished putting away the pom-poms. Kuki changed out of her outfit, locking it up in the gym's storage facility. She scanned the empty gym, a melancholic energy washing over her.
She closed her eyes, imagining a crowd full of people cheering. The score is 32 to 32 with ten seconds left on the buzzer. McClintock sits at the edge of its seat as their star player, Trace Donoghue, dribbles the ball up the court. Six seconds...five...Donoghue takes the shot. The ball soars up into the air, catching on the rim of the basket. 3...2...It circles around. Will it go in? Whooosh! The ball lands in the basket right as the buzzer goes off! The crowd goes mad! The cheerleaders wave their pom-poms and scream! Everyone has a huge smile on their face.
Kuki grinned, the scene vivid in her mind. "Fight! Fight! Fight! For McClintock High!" She sang. "Fight for Victory!" She elevated herself onto her toes, getting a running-start. Springing off of the ground, she ran into a front hand spring, sticking the landing and sliding her legs into a full split. "Go Chargers!" She laughed, her cheeks reddening as she lived the moment.
Suddenly the crowd quieted. The heat escaped from the room, leaving Kuki alone in an empty gymnasium. She lowered her hands, moving out of her straddled position. It wasn't until the bell started to ring that she finally realized she had to leave. She brushed the dust off of her dress, taking one last look around before heading for the door. Her breath was caught in her throat.
She could never be a cheerleader again. She knew that much. But as long as she had a gym, she would never stop cheering.
Wally stared at the remaining items on his plate. There was a leaf of kale and three brussels sprouts, which he refused to eat. By this point, his parents didn't care whether he ate his vegetables or not. He was seventeen now. He kicked his black combat boots under the table, bored as hell. His father sat to the right of him, his mother to the left. In front of him, his baby brother, Joey, now just turned six, smeared his mashed potatoes all over his plate, piling them up in certain areas to make stalagmites with his spoon. Wally's parents didn't say anything about it. They were too busy talking about whatever boring new development happened at work that day. Today, his father, Sid, had a rib-tingling good story about an issue he had with the printer.
"So, there I was..." Sid set the mood, laughing before he even reached the punchline of his tale. "And the gosh darn printer had run outta staples again! On toppa everything!"
The teen groaned, knowing his mother wouldn't let him leave the table until the story was finished. He stabbed his vegetables with his fork, dropping them on the plate with a loud clank, but not even that seemed to gain his family's attention. He looked over at his father, tall and lanky with thick blonde hair not unlike Wally's own. He glared at his business shirt and tie, his name tag still on despite the fact that he had been home for an hour by that point. His pants were perfectly ironed, his face clean-shaven. He was the ideal employee for any business and Wally couldn't stand it.
Despite having a great amount of affection for his father buried deep within his heart, Wallabee Beatles despised everything he represented. Sid Beatles was a man with no ambitions. He had no real desires, no interests, nothing that would set him apart. That was how Wally thought anyway. He was just another wheel in the system, a system which rejected Wally a long time ago. And no matter how hard he tried to see him outside of that role, there was nothing. He woke up, went to work, came home, talked about work, read the paper, and went to bed. While Wally loved his father, he never wanted to grow up to be like him: another link in the chain, another face in the crowd.
His mother was no better. She didn't enhance the world in any spectacular way. She was a stay at home mom, and while very good at it, didn't really care about things like feminism or women in the work force. She was perfectly happy sitting in the kitchen and making a pot roast for her boys, and this also annoyed Wally. By contrast, Kuki's mother was the CEO of his dad's company. She took life by the horns and rode that bull to success. Genki Sanban was a woman of power, intelligent and poised and very rarely hindered by her emotions. Wally's mother was not like this. She was simple-minded, yet content with her place in the world. Everything about their family was average. They had an average size and style house, an average family with average jobs. They were living the American dream to be sure.
At long last, his father's story was over. Wally stood up, taking his plate. "Can I go now?" Wally asked.
His mother turned. "Are you going to practice your music?"
"That's so wonderful!" His father said, elated. "A boy needs a good creative outlet. Don't you think, Honey?" It was as though they were inside a hallmark card.
Joey's eyes lit up. "I wanna come!"
Wally scowled. "No! I'm not playin' any music tonight."
"Wallabee, be nice to your brothah now," Sid said in his usual calm yet jovial voice. Wally couldn't remember the last time his father had actually yelled at him.
"We can go dancing!" Joey beamed. "I can dance while you play!"
"Ugh," Wally groaned. "It isn't dancin' music, Joey. It's...it's big kid stuff. And I ain't playin' tonight! I already told ya!"
He tried to peel himself away, but Joey was right on his tail. "Imma big kid!"
He turned to his mother. "Mom..." he complained.
"Oh, take your brothah with you," she insisted. "You hardly spend any time with 'im."
"Yeah, for good reason," he grumbled under his breath. "I'm goin' out. On a date. So, no. You can't come."
"Okay, Son!" His father said with a smile. "Stay safe! Say hi to Kuki for us, will you?"
"Don't do anything dangerous!" his mother called back. "You be a perfect gentleman!"
"Yeah, yeah. I know," Wally said as he walked out the door without a look back. His parents supported him, trusted him, but that was their own fault. He ruffled his hair in front of his face, thankful to finally be out of that nightmare of cheeriness. He went out the garage where he kept his motorcycle and zoomed it down the street. He thought it might be nice if his parents actually protested what he did for once in his life. But for now, he supposed he was happy to have the freedom.
Tommy Gilligan fidgeted this his fork, moving the olives from one side of the plate to another. He peered through his brother's old yellow tinted goggles. His other hand scratched the side of his head where a shabby, faded aviator's cap sat, a washed-out number 2 still barely visible.
"I don't like the green ones," Tommy grumbled.
Hoagie leaned over the table, watching his little brother sink further and further into his chair. "Well, that's all we had." He took his own plate over to the sink. "I'll go to the store when Mom gets a day off. If you come with me, you can pick out something you like."
Tommy frowned. "We always have to wait for Mom."
"Yeah," Hoagie's voice carried over the running water from the faucet. "Mom has the car. And money." He flipped off the water and went to the dishwasher, only to realize that the dishes inside were already clean. "Ugh. Seriously?" he muttered to himself.
Tommy sat in silence, still refusing to touch his food. "Why don't you get a car?"
Hoagie didn't look up. "Did you miss the money part?"
"What about a bike? One with an inside so you can carry stuff."
"You mean a TEENZ bike? No frickin' way."
"What about...if you built a bike?" Tommy's eyes lit up at the idea. "Yeah! A bigger, faster bike! With a sooper big engine and a bell and-"
Hoagie's laugh cut him off. "Yeah, sure. I'll build my own bike. And then I'll build an airplane...maybe a rocket ship! Better yet, let's all hop in my shrinking magic school bus and go on an adventure!"
Tommy slunk back down in his seat. Crossing his arms, he turned away from his brother. "You could if you wanted to," he whispered.
"Tommy be serious." Hoagie went back to putting dishes away.
"But you can!" Tommy protested. "I've seen you-!"
Hoagie froze. Tommy suddenly realized what he said, but it was too late to turn back. "You've seen me? What do you mean, you've seen me?"
"I mean..." Tommy looked a bit frazzled. "Uh...I...um..."
"Whatever. Right now, I just want to get through the science fair. We can talk about this during the summer when I have more time. And hopefully a job." He put the last clean dish away and shut the dish washer, forgetting to put his dirty dish in. "Have you figured out what you want to do yet?"
Tommy blinked in confusion. "...for summer?"
"For your birthday. It's a big one."
Tommy blushed red, bringing his hands into his lap. The words caught in his throat as he spoke them. "Thirteen."
"Thirteen."
Hoagie didn't know why, but the word gave him an uncomfortable feeling. Maybe it was just an unlucky number. He wasn't typically the superstitious type, but there was something unnerving about those two syllables. Speaking them was enough to quiet a room. "So...did you wanna do a party or..."
"Not really," Tommy said. He was quieter than usual.
Hoagie waited for a moment, watching the sadness cross his brother's face. Tommy had been glum about his birthday for a while now. Hoagie put on a smile to try and lighten the mood. "Come on. You don't want to celebrate at all?"
"There's nothing to celebrate."
This caught Hoagie off guard. He walked over to the table and sat across from the sulking child. "You know...being a teenager isn't a bad thing. It just means you're growing up, moving forward. We could use some of that in this family."
Tommy slammed his hands on the table. "I don't wanna grow up!"
"Everyone has to grow up, Tommy."
But Tommy shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. "You're only saying that because you're a teen now!"
"Well, what do you want me to do about it, huh?" Hoagie snapped. "You wanna be a kid for the rest of your life? Live in this house and have mom take care of you until she dies?"
Tommy squealed, kicking his feet. "No! You don't understand!" He cried. "You'll never understand! You can't even remember being a kid so how could you even get how I feel?"
Hoagie stared at his brother, his jaw relaxed open.
It was true. Hoagie had few memories from his childhood past a certain point. A head injury when he was Tommy's age had given him a severe concussion. Because of this, most of Hoagie's childhood memories were lost to him. At least, that's what he believed. Tommy, still under the age of thirteen, knew the truth. It was no accident that removed Hoagie Gilligan's memories, but a decommissioning machine designed by the Kids Next Door, the organization which, despite Hoagie's many accomplishments, had deemed him unworthy to continue on in the system. Regardless, Hoagie was still Tommy's hero and the thought of losing him for good was too much for the young twelve-year-old to bear.
Hoagie walked around the table, taking Tommy's plate of green olives.
"You're right. I don't."
He brought the plate over, scrapping the olives into the sink and flushing them down the garbage disposal. He grabbed the scrub brush and began washing the plate, feeling as though he might crush the ceramic in his meaty hands. A silence fell over the kitchen. Tommy felt the wash of guilt as he stared at his brother's back. Suddenly, the front door clicked. Betty Gilligan walked inside, her hair slightly disheveled and her glasses perched at the end of her nose.
"I'm back," she called into the silent home. Her voice bounced off the walls. "Phew! What a day! The office was crazy! I didn't think I would make it out of there alive!" She walked into the kitchen to see Tommy's puffy red cheeks. She looked at him with concerned eyes.
Hoagie set down the plate in the sink, drying his hands with a dishrag. He couldn't hide the contempt in his voice as he scowled. "You deal with him." With that, he stormed out of the room.
"Hoagie!" His mother called, but he was already out the door. Betty sighed, sitting down next to her son at the table. "Don't mind your brother, Tommy," she said. "He's just being a teenager."
Tommy fiddled with his hands again, trying to hold back his tears. "I know."
Betty leaned back in the chair, rubbing her nose beneath her glasses. "Honestly. I don't know how I'm going to deal with two teenage boys in the same house!" she exclaimed. "It'll be the death of me."
Wally pulled up in front of the house in his motorcycle. He smiled, with the satisfaction that he was that boyfriend who every girl secretly wanted to have. After all, he did look pretty sweet on his bike which he bought with the money he got playing gigs at The POINT Roller Rink. He turned off the engine and went to walk up to the door. A loud ferocious scream pushed him back in his seat.
The door cracked open.
"Don't you dare step out of this house, Young Lady!" came a bellowing voice. It was Kuki's father, Kani, who was not in the brightest of moods that day.
Kuki's shrill voice screeched back. "I'm going out with my boyfriend!"
"Okay! Fine! Don't listen to your father! But don't come crying to me when you come home pregnant!" Kuki ignored him. "Who do you think is going to take care of that baby, huh? You're not going to do it! Your mother isn't going to do it! I'm certainly not going to do it! Don't slam the-" he cried into the slamming door. Kuki ran out to meet Wally, her face aflame with anger. Steam seemed to radiate from the top of her head as her cheeks puffed up. Wally found this irresistibly adorable.
"Hmph." She pouted.
Wally smirked. "Nothin' like a nice quiet evenin' at home."
Kuki just grimaced at him, hoping onto his motorcycle and holding him tightly. The heat from her face warmed his back. "Let's just get out of here."
"Sounds great to me." He sped off, not planning to be home for a long, long time.
Kuki's toes squished in the tall, uncut grass. Her yellow flowered dress sprawled over the blades. She didn't care at this point whether or not it would become stained by the end of the evening. Sitting patiently, she waited for Wally to tune his guitar. Wally wasn't what you would call intelligent, she mused, but he was not an idiot either, like so many other people would have claimed. True, he wasn't good at school and had a very simple approach to life, but his dauntlessness and kindness were the things she liked most about him. He had been the one to stand by her through it all, and she was always excited to hear what crazy thing he would pour his heart and soul into next. That, and he played the guitar, which was totally hot.
"Got it!" He finally exclaimed with excitement. Kuki grinned, clapping with both her feet and her hands simultaneously. Wally blushed, thinking she looked like a mermaid when she did this. "Okay, you ready to have your mind blown into a million pieces?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, this first one is called: Intolerance." He strummed the first note as Kuki prepared herself for what she knew was coming. You see, Wally, for all of his physical skills, was a descent musician. No one could deny that he had talent. However, there was one thing that Wally could not do that made the entire experience unpleasant for most people:
Sing.
"Life is a box
You wanna keep me inside
But I gotta voice
Yeah I gotta voice!"
They want me to conform
But I say no
They strip me of my dignity
But I say no
No no no no no no no no no-"
It went on for a while.
"No one knows the pain I feel
No one knows the pain I steal
No one knows the pain is real"
The song had little rhyme scheme, no sentence structure and basically repeated the same idea over and over again. Wally insisted that it was an experimental piece, that structure was just another way to keep artists from expressing the real truth. He proceeded to sing many songs after this, all of which conformed to a similar theme of non-conformity. Kuki, while not really understanding or relating to the angst her boyfriend expressed, quite enjoyed all of these. When he finished, he looked at her for approval. She grinned her sunny smile at him and said that she loved it but did not have many statements detailing how or why she did so. This never bothered Wally like it would others. He was just happy that his girlfriend thought he was cool and didn't really care about anything beyond that.
The stars shone brightly in the sky that night, a perfectly romantic setting for their date. Wally put his arm around his love and smiled at the night sky, commenting particularly how the moon was the greatest and most valiant hero in all of outer space. Even he didn't really know what it meant, but it sounded poetic and chicks dug that shit.
"When I become a famous rock star," he began. "You n' me are gonna travel the world togethah! We'll see Paris and France and that place where they travel by little boat things...um..."
"Venice!" Kuki exclaimed.
"Yeah!" Wally settled back down. "Venice, France!"
Kuki giggled. His arms were hard against her soft skin, warm and protective. "But Wally, if you're in a band and I become a nurse like we planned, how are we going to stay together?"
Wally thought about this for a moment, jutting his lower lip out to the side of this mouth in deep contemplation. "I got it!" he finally shouted. "You'll be the nurse on the tour bus! Tour busses gotta have nurses, don't they? Of course they do!"
"Of course!" Kuki gasped, feeling silly she hadn't come to that conclusion herself. "Oh Wallybear I knew you'd think of something! I couldn't stand it if you went off to be famous and I couldn't be there to support you!" She pointed a finger up into the air. "But I also don't wanna just sit around and do nothing or be a bus wife I mean this is the 21st century for goodness-sakes!"
"You're damn right it is!" Wally sat up. "No girlfriend of mine is gonna be a bus wife!"
"Yeah- Oh wait." Kuki put her finger to her chin. "What if someone wants to be a bus wife? Wouldn't saying that she couldn't do that be oppressive too?"
Wally nodded. "You're absolutely right, Kuki. It's our responsibility to make sure that people are free to do whatever they want, whenever they want! Be whoever you want to be!"
Kuki cuddled up to him. "You're so progressive!"
"You gotta be in this world, Baby. Men out there in business suits operatin' on a system of greed and corruption. Somebody's gotta put an end to it all."
"Wally, look!" Kuki cried. She pointed up into the sky where a light shot across the inky black night. "It's a shooting star!"
What Kuki was actually pointing towards was not a shooting star at all, but a giant monolith rocketing through space at a rate of about 4.5 lightyears per hour.
"What should we wish for?"
"I wish for freedom for everyone!" Wally shouted. "And a new electric bass guitar!"
"I just want everyone in the world to be happy," Kuki said, innocently. "And that all of Wally's wishes come true too!"
Wally blushed. "You're the best, Kuki."
They nuzzled their noses together before their lips finally met. Wally and Kuki were the type of couple that no matter how hard they tried, could not keep their hands off of each other. To most, this constant contact alienated them from a lot of people, who found their dependence on each other creepy and unhealthy. In reality, they just wanted to be around each other, do things together both sexual and otherwise. For example, it probably wasn't the best idea for two seventeen-year-old high school students to fornicate in a public park late at night, but this did not stop Wally and Kuki from doing just this. It seemed that the couple would never break out of their honeymoon phase and would remain that way until the end of the Earth as they knew it.
Which, they did not know at the time, was much closer than they suspected.
March 20th, 2015
She walked over to the small machine, lifting a hammer up high over her head. It was a tiny little thing that didn't look very impressive at all. She had already stolen the files, wiped the computer clean, all that was left was this. Her eyes slammed shut, sucking the tears in she so desperately wanted to shed. The hammer grew limp in her hands. Despite Maurice's words, she still couldn't find her strength. She couldn't do this. How could she? Hoagie had never been anything but loyal to her back in the Kids Next Door. He had given her courage and support when she left Sector V to be the Soopreme Leader. And here she was, repaying his kindness by destroying his chance for a future.
It was simple: If he didn't compete in the science fair, he wouldn't be noticed. If nobody noticed him, then everything would stay the same.
Abby grimaced, lowering the hammer down. Every year she went through the same battle, and every year she always brought herself to do the right thing. If she didn't do it, then the TND would lose faith in her loyalty. With Cree's betrayal of the KND, she had to work twice as hard to prove herself. She knew that. She also knew that as a former sector leader it was her duty to keep old teammates from joining the TEENZ. Luckily, Wally and Kuki had lost interest in being members once they finished their freshman years, which was when the TEENZ did most of their recruiting. The TND didn't see them as a threat, which to Abby was a bit careless considering their prowess as agents and their athletic ability. Vicki kept a close eye on Kuki through cheer practice, but as far as they were concerned, the two lovebirds were safe.
Hoagie was a different story. He had little to no athletic ability and didn't fit the aesthetic that the TND wanted. Hoagie liked kids. He didn't have to be convinced not to join the TEENZ as he found their entire philosophy disgraceful. Even if he wanted to join, his personality and outer appearance put him low on the candidacy. Surprisingly, this made him even more of a threat to the TND. Hoagie didn't know it, but he was still a genius. His capabilities even as a teenager rivaled both the KND and TND's best scientists, and they knew it. On the surface, the boy was nothing special. However, should the TEENZ discover his abilities, they would have no choice but to recruit him.
Unlike other geeks who would jump at the chance to change their social status by working for the TEENZ, Hoagie's animosity toward the group put him in great danger. Sure, they would try. They would use their usual tactics, maybe soften him up a bit. But they would fail, Abby was certain. Hoagie was stubborn. Kind, but stubborn. He would refuse. And that's when things would get out of hand.
She'd read the files: the TEENZ labor camps where scientists who either by choice or by force were sentenced to hours of manual labor, making weapons and gadgets for the TEENZ, threatened with torture if they refused to comply. These teenagers disappeared from society, no one ever remembering that they existed. The Kids Next Door wouldn't bother to rescue them, and the TND couldn't afford to put themselves in a position to be discovered. They would die there, their brains mined like coal until there was nothing left of them but an empty shell. Most TND agents just thought them to be rumors, or traps laid out to catch double-agents. There was no evidence of these camps, not that anyone had ever found any. But Abby knew the truth of what Father was capable of. She knew the truth about the Delightful Children from Down the Lane, about Numbuh Zero. Father was ruthless. Children, teenagers, adults. It didn't matter. If he wanted something, he would have it. With a snap of his fingers, he could make anyone disappear.
Abby gripped the hammer again. That wasn't going to happen. Not to him. Not while she had anything to say about it. She did everything she could. She changed his public records in the computer. She changed his answers on tests to give him average grades. She tried to make him look invisible. But it wasn't enough. She lifted the hammer into the air once again. This was what she had to do. No questions. No emotions. No excuses.
She gripped the hammer, grit her teeth, and swung.
Abby managed to slip out the door, blending into a crowd of students passing by. She couldn't remember how she got to the bathroom, but she did. She didn't want to see anyone, especially not Maurice. She knew he would just try and comfort her, but comfort was the last thing she wanted. She figured the gender-neutral bathroom, a new installation at the school, would be the best place to hide her shame. She went into the stall, locking the door. She made her way to the toilet, sitting on its edge with her head in her hands.
It was over.
She should be grateful. In a way, it was good that her actions couldn't deter his spirit, that he still had the desire to try. And soon it wouldn't be her problem anymore...
It wasn't her problem.
This was good.
This is the best thing.
The only thing.
There was no alternative.
She inhaled, her chest constricting more the more she tried to relax.
He'll never forgive me.
It shouldn't have mattered. Maurice was honest with her from the beginning. She knew what she was signing on for. It didn't matter if she could never see him again.
As long as he was here.
The door to the bathroom creaked, swinging delicately closed. Abby sat up. There were only two stalls in the gender-neutral bathroom. It wasn't fair for her to occupy one of the only ones available. However, as she listened, the figure who had entered the space did not open the stall door. The sound of gushing water bounced around the tile walls.
She halted. The water stopped, a deep sigh following the quiet. As she reached for the door handle, she heard the rustling of fabric sliding against the wall. She backed away slightly. It didn't take her long to understand what was going on. A rough, muffled scream erupted without warning from the other side of the door, taking the rest of Abby's breath. Moments of silence were brief between the screams, which grew progressively quieter as they ran out of breath. Like glass, she shattered. As though in a trance, she bent down to see the figure's wide legs, brown shoes, and a pair of glasses sitting by their feet. Next to them, a grey beanie. She stooped as far as she could but was unable to see more.
She wasn't sure what came over her then. Perhaps pride? Maybe guilt? She just wanted to see him. To really see him. Just once. She sat up and stealthily unlocked the door, opening it just a crack. Finally, she caught a glimpse. A large white hand clasped around a clump of auburn hair, large shoulders moving up and down.
The sharp pain returned.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
What was she doing? What had she become? Nigel wouldn't approve of this. Sure, she was trying to keep Hoagie alive, but was this really living? She squandered every opportunity he had to stand out, and that was hard because he stuck out like a viral infection. She wasn't saving him, she was killing him. Slowly, painfully, eroding his heart away.
But...what would they do?
She clenched her eyes shut. She didn't know what to do anymore. Her head pushed forward. Too forward. The door slowly opened wider. Without thinking, she frantically grabbed the handle, slamming the door too fast and too loud. Her phone slid out of her pocket into the open. Shit! She panted as quietly as she could, but the damage was already done. The door locked, Abby pressed firmly against it.
Shit! Shit! SHIT!
It was quiet. Nothing moved. The two sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she heard the figure outside stand up. His footsteps were light and soft. His voice wasn't. Hoagie P. Gilligan did not know the phrase inside-voice.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize there was someone in here."
The kindness in his voice hurt more than any level of bile he could have mustered.
His hand reached beneath the stall, gingerly placing her phone back within her reach. Abby didn't move towards it. She couldn't remember how to move.
"Please excuse me," he said and exited the bathroom.
Abby's forehead rested on the door. Something started to stick in her eyes, but she blinked it away. Instead, her hand balled up into a fist, slamming hard against the door. She could hear people chatting from outside the bathroom, friends laughing about frivolous nonsense.
The world was turning, everything was fine.
It was fine.
Maurice's eye caught Abby's red hat from a distance. She was hunched over, looking physically ill. His stomach twisted.
"Abby," he ran to her. "What happened? Did you get the—"
Abby shoved a flash drive in his chest and kept walking.
"Abby."
"Never again..." He heard her whisper.
"Did something happen?"
She stopped, only for a brief moment. "Never. Again."
He watched as she disappeared into the crowd.
Hoagie walked through the door to his house. He didn't even remember how he got home, but he knew it was a miracle of sorts. The extra weight on him felt as though he were carrying a dead body. He should have known. It didn't matter what he did, High School was just going to be the worst. He pushed up his glasses, dropping his backpack on the ground. Whatever. So what? He didn't care about the stupid science fair anyway. He didn't care if some wannabe tech fuckboi got the prize.
Stupid machine probably wouldn't've even worked.
He sighed. "There's always next year," he said beneath his breath as he went into the living room.
Tommy was there, building some kind of contraption on the floor. Parts were scattered in every direction. The grin on the child's face was awe-inspiring, so much light and excitement in his eyes. Tommy looked up at his brother. "Hoagie! Look! I designed you a sooper cool bike! It's got jet engines and a propeller and flames and skulls on the sides so people think you're sooper tough!"
Hoagie swallowed, unable to look at those bright eyes anymore.
Tommy pouted. "Do you not like it?"
Hoagie brought his brother in for a hug, holding him tight and close.
"Never grow up," he whispered.
Abby arrived at home, throwing her hat on the couch. She just wanted to crawl into bed and to never leave.
"Look who it is!" an excited voice bounded through the hall. "My beautiful baby sister!"
That clearly wasn't the Universe's plan.
Abby tried to smile. "Cree."
Cree ran up to embrace her, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, Abby! Look at you! You're all grown up!"
That was the last thing Abby wanted to hear. She was grown up. Her team was grown up, and they were all miserable because of it. She felt her cheeks begin to flush, long awaited tears finally forming in her eyes. She was helpless, alone. Sure, she got to keep her memories, but it was becoming more of a burden than a gift. What made her more special than them? She knew the answer. It was superficial, statistical, an Adult's answer, a lie.
Cree pulled away, looking at her sister's face with worry. "Abby? What's wrong?"
Fighting through her tears, Abby managed to push through a weak smile. "I'm just so happy to see you," she lied through her teeth. Cree hugged her tighter, squeezing her with a love and affection Abby bought with her pride. She managed to keep herself together. Her thoughts turned to Nigel.
Nigel would never let this happen, she thought. Nigel always did the right thing. He was a real leader. And Abby? She had grown too old to remember what that even meant.
March 31st, 2015.
At 0100 hours, a black object was spotted within the Earth's atmosphere. Sources indicate that the object was nearly two stories tall and sixty feet wide. Projected on the monolith was a message designated for Earth. The message played at 0700 hours, connecting to every Kids Next Door owned monitor on the planet. Shortly after the message was complete, there was a planet-wide electricity malfunction. It returned within the next hour, earlier depending on the region.
At 0700 hours, Abigail Lincoln awoke. She had not heard the message, nor did she realize who had sent it. She felt someone shaking her awake, shouting her name. Her eyes flickered open to see Maurice hovering over her.
"Abby!" he shouted, frantically. "Abby wake up!"
Abby rubbed her eyes, sitting up in her bed. "Maurice? What are you doin' in my house?"
"There's no time to explain," Maurice said. "You've gotta come with me. Now."
"Why? Somethin' happen?"
"Your freak friend happened," a female voice said. Abby rotated to see Vicki, her superior officer, staring out her window, arms crossed.
"We have to evacuate," Maurice said. "Come on, get your things."
Abby shook her head in shock. "Whoa! Whoa! Hold up! Everybody calm down!" She looked at Maurice. "Evacuate what?"
Maurice swallowed hard. "The planet."
"The planet!" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Why? What's goin' on?"
"Sooner or later the Adults will realize what's happened," Vicki explained. "We have to be out of here before they start putting plans into action."
"What are you talkin' about? What plans?" Abby's question was met with silence. "Did you hear this from Moon Base?"
"Abby-" Maurice started.
"We've had no contact with Moon Base," Vicki explained.
Abby bit her lip. She pulled out her communicator. "We gotta warn the others. The Kids Next Door-"
"Abby..." Maurice interrupted, the veins in his neck tightening, constricting his throat. "There is no Kids Next Door."
END TRANSMISSION
Part 1 of 3-part series. Trigger warnings will be placed accordingly. Post-canon, deconstruction, canon-divergence.