A/N: I've decided this fic will be sorta like a play, i.e: there will only
be three chapters/three acts. You see what I mean. Anyway, this is Act 2,
where not much happens except a lot of introspection; maybe a little segue
into Act 3 (a.k.a. the climax). Enjoy!
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Numbuh 2 woke up in his half-a-failed-fighter plane bed before the others the next morning. Slipping his worn leather pilot's helmet over his eyes he quickly and quietly made his way into the common area. There he paused for a moment before reaching his destination and listened for any sign of his comrades. He heard nothing, as he'd expected, and walked satisfied toward the couch-surrounded table in the center of the space.
In the dim, gray morning-light the object of his surreptitious journey seemed even colder than it had the previous night. Numbuh 2 stayed beyond the couches, locked in position from fear and awe of the gun. He felt like a star-struck fan meeting their idol for the first time, he wasn't sure what to do. Eventually he did climb over the couches and stood still again, only this time within reaching distance of the gun. Slowly, with a shaky hand, he ran his fingers along its barrel. The smooth blackness was as cold as it looked and he felt a shiver run from his hand up his arm and through his entire body. He jerked his hand back as if the gun had burned him. Quit bein' such a baby, he berated himself, This is what you came for, isn't it? He snapped his hand out again and before he could rethink his mission once more he was holding the weapon.
It was just as heavy and cold as it looked, and Numbuh 2 couldn't ignore the clenching feeling in his stomach, as if Death itself had a hold on his insides. Okay, he silently tried to calm himself, do what you came to do, and get the heck outta here. The clenching was worse than any kind of hunger Numbuh 2 had experienced before and no matter if it was babyish or not, he desperately wanted to be rid of the gun as soon as possible. But first he had a mission to complete. He lifted the gun with both hands so he could peer into the barrel. Upon Numbuh 1's command for bed, 2 had immediately lit off to his lab-of-sorts and began rummaging through old technical manuals and textbooks he kept around for ideas and advice, on a feverish search for information on guns. He wasn't disappointed, and soon had an understanding of the object on the table his teammates couldn't hope for. A technical understanding, clinical and detached. It was just a machine right? A gadget, Numbuh 2 was good with gadgets. In fact, as far as being a member of the Kid's Next Door, gadgets were his life. He couldn't resist the opportunity to examine a REAL gun.
He spun open the cylinder and counted the bullets inside, six. He took one of the small metal pieces out and examined that as well, just for curiosity more than anything else. He closed the cylinder and eyed the trigger and other pieces, careful not to do anything stupid. The clenching in his stomach had changed into predictable hunger, which made itself known with a growl. Numbuh 2, feeling his mission complete, placed the gun back on the table and left for the kitchen to begin making breakfast for himself and his friends.
:::
"New orders from IHQ," Numbuh 1 announced as he sat down at the table for breakfast. He held a sheet of paper with their assignment.
Numbuh 5's ears pricked in curiosity and she leaned closer to 1 to get a look at the orders. He placed the paper on the table amidst various boxes of sugary cereals and plates of eggs and French toast a' la Numbuh 2 so each Kid Next Door could read it, "Yuck!" 5 exclaimed as she finished scanning the paper, "Broccoli cereal, huh? Numbuh 5 thinks dat's a new low fo' adults." She sat back in her chair with her arms crossed in disgust.
"As long as we complete our mission it will never become a reality, Numbuh 5," 1 said reassuringly.
"Betta' not," Numbuh 4 agreed between shovels of eggs. 3 simply wrinkled her face over her bowl of Rainbow Monkey marshmallow cereal to express her feelings of revulsion.
"It don't sound too horrible to me," Numbuh 2 said as he sat down juggling his plates of eggs, toast, and two bowls of cereal. His teammates stared at the plump boy for a beat. He colored slightly and chuckled, glancing at the personal spread before him, "Oh yeah."
"Numbuh 2's indiscriminate palate or not," 1 said after another beat, "They must be stopped." He smacked his hand with his fist for emphasis, "The report states that this vile scheme is the concoction of the woman who attempted to incarcerate us in a children's zoo." The team shuddered at the memory, "As you remember, she nearly had us that time. We actually only managed our escape by cooperation with the Delightful Children From Down the Lane," another shudder, "Any ideas?"
The Kid's Next Door were silent as they thought. They glanced at one another when they thought none were glancing at them. No one wanted to be the first to suggest what had, with the possible exception of 3, immediately sprung to the front of their minds as a plan to deal with this cunning foe. No one wanted the others to know what had formerly been in the back of their minds since last evening. Or how it hadn't budged no matter how hard they squeezed their eyes shut or how long they'd researched or how loud they'd played music to drown out their thoughts. No one wanted the others to see how little sleep they'd gotten.
"Numbuh 5 guesses da' usual, storm da' compound 'n put a stop to their evil scheme or whatnot would do da' trick." the girl propped slipper- shoed feet on the table, "Just gotta be extra cautious 'round dat nasty lady, make sure she dun put us in no more cages 'n Numbuh 5 gotta rescue yall again like last time."
Numbuh 1 cracked a smile, "Sounds about right, unless there are any other ideas?" He got no response, and was just fine with that.
Having finished breakfast, the Kids separated to work on their own tasks within their enormous HQ. 2 left for his workshop and 3 went with to assist him. 5 went to work out the details of the plan, since she'd come up with it, and 1 joined her. Numbuh 4 went to his room to work out and read comics. It wasn't until afternoon that the gun's peace was disturbed again.
:::
Numbuh 1 and 5 had quickly hammered out the destruction of the broccoli cereal factory, having plenty of experience to draw upon. Boredom had soon set in, and it led the pair to wander the treehouse aimlessly, led by their own subconscious thoughts. Because of this, it was a complete surprise when they found themselves before the ring of couches with the small table in the center and the black weapon warming in the late afternoon sun. With a glance at 5, as if almost asking permission, Numbuh 1 jumped over the couches and stood almost exactly where 2 had stood that morning. Swallowing the tightness in her throat, Numbuh 5 joined him.
They stayed silent, 1 looking at the gun and 5 out the window. Being this near to the thing gave her a headache, but she didn't want to look weak in front of Numbuh 1, so she turned away from the comforting glow of the sun and to the harsh dark of the gun. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up without hesitation and aimed it at the 5 painted on her door. Looking down the barrel of the gun she felt herself stiffen and her breathing go ragged. The memories had returned in a flood. She saw it all again; the gun flashing as it was whipped from the man's jacket pocket, the look of terror on the convenience store clerk's face, and her uncle's blood staining the linoleum floor. Suddenly a lump developed in her throat and she was holding back tears.
She jumped slightly when Numbuh 1 reached out and gently pushed her rigid arms down until they went slack and she let the gun drop to the table. Numbuh 5 took another breath, this one shuddering, and dropped her head, all the while trying to rid herself of the memories she tried so hard to bury. She wasn't sure what she was ashamed of, all she knew was she didn't want to look Numbuh 1 in the eye after what she had done. She closed her eyes as 1 spoke, "I don't like it anymore than you do, Numbuh 5." He placed a comforting hand on her trembling shoulder, "You don't have to prove anything to me."
She nodded, a series of jerking motions, before finally looking up at Numbuh 1. He was grateful for his sunglasses, which hid his surprise at the tears filling 5's eyes and running down her face, "Just promise me somethin'?" she said.
"Anything, Numbuh 5," he replied.
"You jus' think 'bout this," she inclined her head slightly towards the gun, "You think long 'n hard. Dun do nothin' stupid jus' cuz it sounds good at first. And dun let da' others change yo' mind or do somethin' stupid themselves. You promise me?"
"I promise."
Numbuh 5 pulled away from him, wiping the tears from her eyes and face, "Dat's good. Remember you promised me." She left the common area, leaving Numbuh 1 to face the gun alone.
He could feel it calling to him, not literally, but the temptation was there. He couldn't in good conscience say that Numbuh 4 hadn't had a good point the other night, about using the weapon against their enemies. It could solve so many problems, but at what price? Numbuh 1 was torn between two things: Numbuh 4's point and the crystalline tears that had so recently fallen from Numbuh 5's eyes. Each one was like a knife to his heart; it was so rare and painful to see 5 come undone like that. Even more so than Numbuh 4. Both were strong, but Numbuh 1 could see so much more clearly that 4's was just an act. Numbuh 5 was a mystery to him, solitary and unwilling to take down a wall or two to let him in, really in. But he wouldn't push her, she was obviously struggling with something very difficult and he was sure she would come to him if she needed to. Until then, all he could do was put a comforting hand on her shoulder and tell her everything would be okay.
But besides from the mental anguish it caused him, Numbuh 5's tears were living reasons why he should do away with the gun before it caused reparable damage to someone or something he cared about. He wasn't sure exactly what those reasons were, but he didn't really care. His own personal preference was in league with the tears, not Numbuh 4. But, as leader of this sector of the Kids Next Door, his opinion counted for very little. What mattered was the team, and what he felt was inconsequential to the decision that would be made. He could cast aside his feelings when need be, it was a portion of what made him an ideal leader. But maybe this wasn't the time to have his emotional self stand on the sidelines; maybe he was needed this time to make this decision. It was a possibility he admitted, in his tenure as leader he'd never had to decide anything like this before. Yes, it was possible. Now more confused than ever Numbuh 1 left the common area without touching the gun.
:::
Numbuh 4 had migrated from his room to the kitchen in the course of the afternoon, comic book in hand. Leaving the kitchen with a handful of candy and some cold, leftover pizza, he couldn't help but stop in the common area. Like 1, Numbuh 4 could feel the pull of the gun, and was much less able to resist it. He placed his book and food on the floor near the kitchen slowly, keeping his bang-hidden eyes on the table in the center, and slowly began to walk towards it. He ignored the tightness in his stomach, chest, and throat in favor of the wonder that widened his eyes as he drew closer to his goal. Almost there, just a few more steps-
"Numbuh 4?" a light, Asian-accented voice stopped him in his tracks and he blinked many times. The wonder had abruptly dissipated somehow, though the tightness he knew was fear remained. Numbuh 3 stood just inside the common area, past one of the doors. She held the arm of a stuffed bear at her side.
"Yeh?" he responded and turned toward her, away from the gun. He was suddenly embarrassed that she'd spotted him.
"Whatcha' doing?" She took a few more steps closer to him.
Questions like these should be easy ta' answer, Numbuh 4 grumbled silently, "Nuthin', Numbuh 3, Ah wasn't doin' nuthin'." He immediately regretted his harsh tone as 3 flinched at his words.
"Why do you wanna," she paused, searching for words she didn't know that would've expressed her point perfectly, "use that thing so much?" Her eyes darted to the gun.
Numbuh 4 glanced to his right and realized what she meant; he turned his head the other way in shame. How does she always know what's on my mind? he wondered, She acts the airhead all the time, but it's mostly just pretend. She knows 'xactly what's goin' on here, if not alluv' it. "Cuz it'll make things betta' for us," he said still talking to her like a younger child than she was, even though he knew that she knew better.
"How?"
A perfectly reasonable question, but Numbuh 4 again had to struggle for an answer and try not to be harsh, "Ee-um- well, it'll make all our enemies go away for good, ya' see?" He nodded and smiled at her, trying to make her see his point, despite the fact that he barely saw it himself.
Numbuh 3 smiled back, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was a smile saddened by pity, and 4's smile all but fell off his face at the sight of it, "Will it be worth it, Numbuh 4?"
"Ah- Ah think so- Ah hope so, Numbuh 3." 4 couldn't help feeling stripped under her eyes which saw all his thoughts and doubts, troubles and joys. If the gun emanated attraction before, now it was a repellant darkness in the corner of his eye he'd rather run from than to.
"Wanna know what I think?"
"Yeh, Ah guess. What?"
She sighed slightly, "I think you should know if it'll be worth it, not just hope it'll be." She smiled again, happier this time, and took his hand. He allowed her to lead him out of the common area, feeling lighter with each step they took away from the gun.
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A/N: Alright and thus ends Act 2! I hope you all took notes; cuz there'll be study questions! Just kidding. The whole fic should be up in its entirety this weekend as long as I hammer out the last act by Saturday morning. I really think this is turning out to be one of the best things I've ever wrote, I just hope you all like it. Once again, I don't know if Numbuh 5's uncle got shot, and I doubt you do either, so there. If anybody thinks I've done a disservice in juicing up my story, DON'T READ IT. Hey, how'd ya' like the little implied 1/5 and 3/4 I squeezed in there? Review please! K, bye!
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Numbuh 2 woke up in his half-a-failed-fighter plane bed before the others the next morning. Slipping his worn leather pilot's helmet over his eyes he quickly and quietly made his way into the common area. There he paused for a moment before reaching his destination and listened for any sign of his comrades. He heard nothing, as he'd expected, and walked satisfied toward the couch-surrounded table in the center of the space.
In the dim, gray morning-light the object of his surreptitious journey seemed even colder than it had the previous night. Numbuh 2 stayed beyond the couches, locked in position from fear and awe of the gun. He felt like a star-struck fan meeting their idol for the first time, he wasn't sure what to do. Eventually he did climb over the couches and stood still again, only this time within reaching distance of the gun. Slowly, with a shaky hand, he ran his fingers along its barrel. The smooth blackness was as cold as it looked and he felt a shiver run from his hand up his arm and through his entire body. He jerked his hand back as if the gun had burned him. Quit bein' such a baby, he berated himself, This is what you came for, isn't it? He snapped his hand out again and before he could rethink his mission once more he was holding the weapon.
It was just as heavy and cold as it looked, and Numbuh 2 couldn't ignore the clenching feeling in his stomach, as if Death itself had a hold on his insides. Okay, he silently tried to calm himself, do what you came to do, and get the heck outta here. The clenching was worse than any kind of hunger Numbuh 2 had experienced before and no matter if it was babyish or not, he desperately wanted to be rid of the gun as soon as possible. But first he had a mission to complete. He lifted the gun with both hands so he could peer into the barrel. Upon Numbuh 1's command for bed, 2 had immediately lit off to his lab-of-sorts and began rummaging through old technical manuals and textbooks he kept around for ideas and advice, on a feverish search for information on guns. He wasn't disappointed, and soon had an understanding of the object on the table his teammates couldn't hope for. A technical understanding, clinical and detached. It was just a machine right? A gadget, Numbuh 2 was good with gadgets. In fact, as far as being a member of the Kid's Next Door, gadgets were his life. He couldn't resist the opportunity to examine a REAL gun.
He spun open the cylinder and counted the bullets inside, six. He took one of the small metal pieces out and examined that as well, just for curiosity more than anything else. He closed the cylinder and eyed the trigger and other pieces, careful not to do anything stupid. The clenching in his stomach had changed into predictable hunger, which made itself known with a growl. Numbuh 2, feeling his mission complete, placed the gun back on the table and left for the kitchen to begin making breakfast for himself and his friends.
:::
"New orders from IHQ," Numbuh 1 announced as he sat down at the table for breakfast. He held a sheet of paper with their assignment.
Numbuh 5's ears pricked in curiosity and she leaned closer to 1 to get a look at the orders. He placed the paper on the table amidst various boxes of sugary cereals and plates of eggs and French toast a' la Numbuh 2 so each Kid Next Door could read it, "Yuck!" 5 exclaimed as she finished scanning the paper, "Broccoli cereal, huh? Numbuh 5 thinks dat's a new low fo' adults." She sat back in her chair with her arms crossed in disgust.
"As long as we complete our mission it will never become a reality, Numbuh 5," 1 said reassuringly.
"Betta' not," Numbuh 4 agreed between shovels of eggs. 3 simply wrinkled her face over her bowl of Rainbow Monkey marshmallow cereal to express her feelings of revulsion.
"It don't sound too horrible to me," Numbuh 2 said as he sat down juggling his plates of eggs, toast, and two bowls of cereal. His teammates stared at the plump boy for a beat. He colored slightly and chuckled, glancing at the personal spread before him, "Oh yeah."
"Numbuh 2's indiscriminate palate or not," 1 said after another beat, "They must be stopped." He smacked his hand with his fist for emphasis, "The report states that this vile scheme is the concoction of the woman who attempted to incarcerate us in a children's zoo." The team shuddered at the memory, "As you remember, she nearly had us that time. We actually only managed our escape by cooperation with the Delightful Children From Down the Lane," another shudder, "Any ideas?"
The Kid's Next Door were silent as they thought. They glanced at one another when they thought none were glancing at them. No one wanted to be the first to suggest what had, with the possible exception of 3, immediately sprung to the front of their minds as a plan to deal with this cunning foe. No one wanted the others to know what had formerly been in the back of their minds since last evening. Or how it hadn't budged no matter how hard they squeezed their eyes shut or how long they'd researched or how loud they'd played music to drown out their thoughts. No one wanted the others to see how little sleep they'd gotten.
"Numbuh 5 guesses da' usual, storm da' compound 'n put a stop to their evil scheme or whatnot would do da' trick." the girl propped slipper- shoed feet on the table, "Just gotta be extra cautious 'round dat nasty lady, make sure she dun put us in no more cages 'n Numbuh 5 gotta rescue yall again like last time."
Numbuh 1 cracked a smile, "Sounds about right, unless there are any other ideas?" He got no response, and was just fine with that.
Having finished breakfast, the Kids separated to work on their own tasks within their enormous HQ. 2 left for his workshop and 3 went with to assist him. 5 went to work out the details of the plan, since she'd come up with it, and 1 joined her. Numbuh 4 went to his room to work out and read comics. It wasn't until afternoon that the gun's peace was disturbed again.
:::
Numbuh 1 and 5 had quickly hammered out the destruction of the broccoli cereal factory, having plenty of experience to draw upon. Boredom had soon set in, and it led the pair to wander the treehouse aimlessly, led by their own subconscious thoughts. Because of this, it was a complete surprise when they found themselves before the ring of couches with the small table in the center and the black weapon warming in the late afternoon sun. With a glance at 5, as if almost asking permission, Numbuh 1 jumped over the couches and stood almost exactly where 2 had stood that morning. Swallowing the tightness in her throat, Numbuh 5 joined him.
They stayed silent, 1 looking at the gun and 5 out the window. Being this near to the thing gave her a headache, but she didn't want to look weak in front of Numbuh 1, so she turned away from the comforting glow of the sun and to the harsh dark of the gun. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up without hesitation and aimed it at the 5 painted on her door. Looking down the barrel of the gun she felt herself stiffen and her breathing go ragged. The memories had returned in a flood. She saw it all again; the gun flashing as it was whipped from the man's jacket pocket, the look of terror on the convenience store clerk's face, and her uncle's blood staining the linoleum floor. Suddenly a lump developed in her throat and she was holding back tears.
She jumped slightly when Numbuh 1 reached out and gently pushed her rigid arms down until they went slack and she let the gun drop to the table. Numbuh 5 took another breath, this one shuddering, and dropped her head, all the while trying to rid herself of the memories she tried so hard to bury. She wasn't sure what she was ashamed of, all she knew was she didn't want to look Numbuh 1 in the eye after what she had done. She closed her eyes as 1 spoke, "I don't like it anymore than you do, Numbuh 5." He placed a comforting hand on her trembling shoulder, "You don't have to prove anything to me."
She nodded, a series of jerking motions, before finally looking up at Numbuh 1. He was grateful for his sunglasses, which hid his surprise at the tears filling 5's eyes and running down her face, "Just promise me somethin'?" she said.
"Anything, Numbuh 5," he replied.
"You jus' think 'bout this," she inclined her head slightly towards the gun, "You think long 'n hard. Dun do nothin' stupid jus' cuz it sounds good at first. And dun let da' others change yo' mind or do somethin' stupid themselves. You promise me?"
"I promise."
Numbuh 5 pulled away from him, wiping the tears from her eyes and face, "Dat's good. Remember you promised me." She left the common area, leaving Numbuh 1 to face the gun alone.
He could feel it calling to him, not literally, but the temptation was there. He couldn't in good conscience say that Numbuh 4 hadn't had a good point the other night, about using the weapon against their enemies. It could solve so many problems, but at what price? Numbuh 1 was torn between two things: Numbuh 4's point and the crystalline tears that had so recently fallen from Numbuh 5's eyes. Each one was like a knife to his heart; it was so rare and painful to see 5 come undone like that. Even more so than Numbuh 4. Both were strong, but Numbuh 1 could see so much more clearly that 4's was just an act. Numbuh 5 was a mystery to him, solitary and unwilling to take down a wall or two to let him in, really in. But he wouldn't push her, she was obviously struggling with something very difficult and he was sure she would come to him if she needed to. Until then, all he could do was put a comforting hand on her shoulder and tell her everything would be okay.
But besides from the mental anguish it caused him, Numbuh 5's tears were living reasons why he should do away with the gun before it caused reparable damage to someone or something he cared about. He wasn't sure exactly what those reasons were, but he didn't really care. His own personal preference was in league with the tears, not Numbuh 4. But, as leader of this sector of the Kids Next Door, his opinion counted for very little. What mattered was the team, and what he felt was inconsequential to the decision that would be made. He could cast aside his feelings when need be, it was a portion of what made him an ideal leader. But maybe this wasn't the time to have his emotional self stand on the sidelines; maybe he was needed this time to make this decision. It was a possibility he admitted, in his tenure as leader he'd never had to decide anything like this before. Yes, it was possible. Now more confused than ever Numbuh 1 left the common area without touching the gun.
:::
Numbuh 4 had migrated from his room to the kitchen in the course of the afternoon, comic book in hand. Leaving the kitchen with a handful of candy and some cold, leftover pizza, he couldn't help but stop in the common area. Like 1, Numbuh 4 could feel the pull of the gun, and was much less able to resist it. He placed his book and food on the floor near the kitchen slowly, keeping his bang-hidden eyes on the table in the center, and slowly began to walk towards it. He ignored the tightness in his stomach, chest, and throat in favor of the wonder that widened his eyes as he drew closer to his goal. Almost there, just a few more steps-
"Numbuh 4?" a light, Asian-accented voice stopped him in his tracks and he blinked many times. The wonder had abruptly dissipated somehow, though the tightness he knew was fear remained. Numbuh 3 stood just inside the common area, past one of the doors. She held the arm of a stuffed bear at her side.
"Yeh?" he responded and turned toward her, away from the gun. He was suddenly embarrassed that she'd spotted him.
"Whatcha' doing?" She took a few more steps closer to him.
Questions like these should be easy ta' answer, Numbuh 4 grumbled silently, "Nuthin', Numbuh 3, Ah wasn't doin' nuthin'." He immediately regretted his harsh tone as 3 flinched at his words.
"Why do you wanna," she paused, searching for words she didn't know that would've expressed her point perfectly, "use that thing so much?" Her eyes darted to the gun.
Numbuh 4 glanced to his right and realized what she meant; he turned his head the other way in shame. How does she always know what's on my mind? he wondered, She acts the airhead all the time, but it's mostly just pretend. She knows 'xactly what's goin' on here, if not alluv' it. "Cuz it'll make things betta' for us," he said still talking to her like a younger child than she was, even though he knew that she knew better.
"How?"
A perfectly reasonable question, but Numbuh 4 again had to struggle for an answer and try not to be harsh, "Ee-um- well, it'll make all our enemies go away for good, ya' see?" He nodded and smiled at her, trying to make her see his point, despite the fact that he barely saw it himself.
Numbuh 3 smiled back, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was a smile saddened by pity, and 4's smile all but fell off his face at the sight of it, "Will it be worth it, Numbuh 4?"
"Ah- Ah think so- Ah hope so, Numbuh 3." 4 couldn't help feeling stripped under her eyes which saw all his thoughts and doubts, troubles and joys. If the gun emanated attraction before, now it was a repellant darkness in the corner of his eye he'd rather run from than to.
"Wanna know what I think?"
"Yeh, Ah guess. What?"
She sighed slightly, "I think you should know if it'll be worth it, not just hope it'll be." She smiled again, happier this time, and took his hand. He allowed her to lead him out of the common area, feeling lighter with each step they took away from the gun.
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A/N: Alright and thus ends Act 2! I hope you all took notes; cuz there'll be study questions! Just kidding. The whole fic should be up in its entirety this weekend as long as I hammer out the last act by Saturday morning. I really think this is turning out to be one of the best things I've ever wrote, I just hope you all like it. Once again, I don't know if Numbuh 5's uncle got shot, and I doubt you do either, so there. If anybody thinks I've done a disservice in juicing up my story, DON'T READ IT. Hey, how'd ya' like the little implied 1/5 and 3/4 I squeezed in there? Review please! K, bye!