author's note: i started this fic long before there were any spoilers available for Operation: END (which is kind of necessary to have seen to understand this fic). which accounts for the inconsistencies in characterizations, etc. i'm going to have to call this fic strictly AU, as i'm sure the actual show will be nothing like this at all.
i should also add the disclaimer that the characters from Codename: Kids Next Door do not belong to me, etc. but actually, this fic is barely quaifies as a KND fanfic, as the five main characters of the show won't make much of an appearance.
it also may help to see some of my fanart, i can't seem to be able to post links here, so you'll have to visit my author page where i link to these images.

Chapter 1: Descent

Cree entered her dark bedroom in a bathrobe, toweling off her damp hair. "Ugh, I am never going to get the smell of garbage out of my hair. When I get my hands on that Abby..." she stopped short when she saw a shadowed figure sitting at her desk. "Hey kid, are you still here?"

He stirred. "I told you before," he began with a low voice, then progressed to a fierce shout, "I'm NOT A KID!"

"Right..." Cree answered, unmoved. "Well, whoever you are, you smell like old trash. You could at least wash up."

He was unresponsive.

Cree sighed. "C'mon, you're stinking up my room." She crossed over to him, and seizing the hem of his shirt, yanked it off him.

He didn't react--he barely seemed to notice.

Cree grinned. "You're kinda cute without your shirt on." She looked down at his arm, at the digits tattooed there--274. She headed out the door, pondering this. "I'm going to start a load of laundry. The bathroom's down the hall. You could use a good scrubbing." She exited.

Chad sat in the dark room, staring at his discarded armor illuminated by the light of the moon filtering through the blinds. The moon...the Moonbase.... He clenched his fists as the memories of the day's events buzzed in his brain. He had tried to kill everyone--all his friends. Should he feel remorseful? "I hate you," he muttered in a strangled voice, "I hate you..." He dug his nails into his tattoo. It was stupid of him, really, to think it would last. His nails tore through skin. The pain was real, and somehow comforting.

Cree returned. "I figured you'd still be--what are you doing?" she gasped, mid-sentence, as she saw the blood trailing down his arm. She rushed over to stop him. But the moment she reached out to touch him, he pulled away abruptly.

"Leave me alone." He stood, staggered past her and out the door.

The night air was cold. He walked, one foot in front of the other, in a daze, on the quiet street, past darkened houses. Each step was a force of will. He stumbled, falling, more pain. He chuckled bitterly, not bothering to pick himself up off the pavement. "Happy birthday to me...."

---

The next day he was at school, but did not know why. Why would he be there when everything that was important to him had been taken away? But that morning, like every morning, he got up, dressed, and left the house. Where else would he go? What else could he do? As always, he did what was expected of him.

Football practice was a waste of time. He was tackled and knocked over so many times that the coach sent him to the showers in disgust. The play rehearsal was just as bad. When Juliet said, "Then have my lips the sin that they have took," he just stared at her blankly, wondering what gave her the energy to stand there and emote.

At the end of the day, he gathered his books, papers, assignments, and prepared to go home. He moved slowly, without purpose.

"Hi Chad, happy birthday," said a voice behind him. "You're thirteen now, right? Congratulations!"

He opened his mouth to reply, but by the time he turned around, the owner of the voice was gone. He collected the rest of his belongings and slammed his locker shut. The empty hallway resounded the hollow metal bang.

He headed towards the exit, and suddenly she was in front of him. When did she get here? He stopped short. His face flushed in anger at the mere sight of her.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

Cree regarded him coolly and held out his shirt from the day before. He frowned at it. "Keep it. I don't want it anymore." He took long strides to the door.

"Oh, lucky me, I get to have your ratty old shirt," she sneered, keeping pace with him. "That's gratitude for you--I was the one who saved your ass from decommi--"

"Shut up! Go away!" He walked faster.

"Listen--274--"

He froze at the sound of the number that was once his name. "Don't call me that. Don't ever call me that."

"Okay, but listen to me. I know what you're going through."

He turned on her with hateful eyes.

"I was an operative just like you," she explained, holding her hands up placatingly. "Numbuh Eleven." There was a note of distaste in her voice as she said her former alias. "And like you, I turned thirteen when I was at the top of my game. I was scheduled for decommissioning, but I didn't go without a fight. And I'm still fighting, even now. Come with me, there's someone I think you should meet."

He gazed fixedly at her. He could not explain it, but he began to feel what he hadn't all day--a sense of purpose. "All right. Lead the way."

---

He stepped into the mansion, and a feeling more of darkness than of dread pressed in around him. He knew of this mansion all too well, had been taught to hate it, but now here he was. A traitor.

Cree led him to a door and opened it, motioning him inside. He entered. The room was dark, though it was still day outside. The only light was the red glow from the fireplace, yet the room felt cold and hopeless. The door closed behind him with an irrevocable boom, and he stopped short, trapped. He had made a terrible mistake.

"Chad. I've been expecting you."

His heart pounded in terror, but he was drawn irresistibly to the voice. Moth to a flame. Sinner to Satan. He continued, as if pulled forward, until he was standing before him. He had never gazed upon Pure Evil before, but he knew now without a doubt that he was looking at it now. Chad now understood why the room was so dark; light was driven from this being's body as heat from a freezer. The being's face was indiscernible, lost in the blackness. Yet his eyes smoldered and bored into Chad, reading his very thoughts.

"So you've decided to join our team?" The voice was low and menacing, disparaging.

Chad was mute, struck dumb from fear.

"I know how you're feeling," the voice continued with mock sympathy. "You've been betrayed." He said this word with particular relish. "You've done so much for them, you've given your all, and what do they do to repay you?" He gave a slow, low laugh that chilled Chad to the marrow.

Yet the words he said were true. He had been betrayed. He had wanted nothing more than to continue things as they were. Was that so much to ask? Hadn't he done so much more for them in return? Didn't he deserve that small recompense?

"But now is not the time for self-pity. How will things ever change if you do nothing but feel sorry for yourself? You had the right idea, my child; they deserve to be punished. They deserve to be destroyed!" His eyes burned with a bright fury.

Fear slowly gave way to anger and self-righteousness. He heard the words he had wanted to hear: they deserved to be punished. He should not feel guilt for trying to destroy the Moonbase, it was no less than they deserved. He wanted to see them suffer as he suffered now--to take away what was important to them as they had done to him. He would make them regret it!

"Welcome into the fold, my child." He held out his dark hand.

"Thank you...Father." Chad took the hand. It was cold as death, and burned.