Disclaimer: Do we really need this? Of course KND isn't mine.

A/N: I'm new to KND fanfiction so please leave me some advice!

Operation: FANFICTION

Faithful

And

Numbered

Friends

Inscribe

Countless

Tales

Into

Old

Notebook

"A story? Why on earth would anyone want to waste their time writing a lousy story?"

Number Five shrugged and adjusted the straps on her backpack as they left the classroom. "How should I know? Teachers just like that kind of stuff."

"Yeah? Well, I think it's stupid. I can think of a buhmillion of things I'd rather be doing than writing some lame story," Number Four grumbled as he kicked at the tiled hallway floor.

Five raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you can—I bet you're just saying that because you know that you can't spell for beans," she said with a grin as they exited the school.

Four mumbled something that sounded distinctively along the lines of 'I don't even like beans', but Number Five ignored him as she stepped onto the bus and found a seat near the back window. Stories weren't her area of expertise, but she wasn't about to let this assignment lower her grade. This semester had been suspiciously easy and now wasn't the time to let her guard down. She took out a notebook from her bag and started to jot down ideas for her story.

Number four leaned over the back of the seat in front of Five and tried to catch a look at her notes. "You can't be starting that stupid assignment already! We have all weekend. Doing homework on Friday is about as low as you can get," he interrupted.

Number Five nodded absentmindedly and continued to write. "Why don't you get started on it if you hate it so much? Then you won't have any work to do over the weekend if you get it out of the way now." She asked from under the brim of her hat.

After a momentary pause Number Four shrugged and disappeared back over the other side of the seat. Five smiled to herself and scanned over her notes.

"You can't be serious! Fridays are always busy!"

Number One sighed and turned to face Five. "I'd expect you to be grateful; it's not often we get a break from our missions. This week's been slower than usual so take the opportunity to get some rest."

Five crossed her arms. "You expect me to buy that lame excuse? You, of all people, should be the most upset."

"I am," he replied. "But there's nothing I can do about it so we might as well take it easy for once. Why are you so concerned anyways?"

"I'm not," she frowned exasperatedly and gathered up her bag. "It's just that we're supposed to write a story for English class so I thought that a mission might give me some ideas," she sighed. "Well, in that case, I've got all weekend so I'm going to pick up some stuff at the candy store. Anything you want me to get?"

Number One dug around in his pockets and came up with a crumpled sheet of paper. "Just a few essentials. We've been running low on gum so you should add that to the list."

Five took the list and tipped her hat. "Okay then, I'll be seeing you around," she nodded as she left the room.

One put his hands in his pockets and turned to his room but paused as something caught his eye. "Number Five! You forgot your notebook," he called, but it was too late—she had already left. He picked up the red notebook and flipped through the pages until he came to a paper clipped section in blue ink. "This must be the story she was writing," he mused to himself as he scanned her writing.

"A Penny Saved is a Penny Stolen"

"Once there was this girl named Jane who worked for a super top-secret spy agency. She was one of the best spies in the company and was working on a really tough case. Jane was working undercover as a teller at her local bank when she discovered that the money people were depositing was disappearing. Jane didn't really care about the money, but she didn't like to see the innocent people losing what belonged to them so she decided to find out who was behind the crime."

Number One paused and turned a couple of pages only to find nothing. "That's it? She's probably still working on it." He began to place the notebook back on the table when an idea hit him. "Number Five did mention that she was having difficulty writing her story...it wouldn't hurt to help out a little bit. After all, every good story deserves an evil criminal mastermind, and she obviously hasn't introduced that character yet..."

"Hey, Number One! Can you come here a second? I need someone to help me hold this in place," Number Two called from underneath the wooden frame of his latest aerial flyer in his room. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and held his blueprints up to the light.

One poked his head over the threshold and adjusted his glasses. "Did you call me?"

"Yeah," Number Two replied, muffled underneath the stacks of blueprints and designs. "Can you hold this piece of particleboard for a second while I grab some spare screws? I need to refill my stock in the tool box."

Number One nodded and put the notebook down on the bookcase shelf next to the doorway. "Sure, I'll be right there," he replied and walked up to the skeletal beginnings of the newest flier. "This one's pretty small compared to the earlier models," he observed.

"Ah, I dunno. It's definitely smaller, but I'm aiming for more engine power this time. And anyways, the smaller ones are easier to maneuver, especially in bad weather." Two replied as he poured a handful of screws into his toolbox. Number One handed him the beam of particleboard he was holding up. "Thanks for your help; I'll call you if I need anything else," Two waved as Number One left the room. As he closed the door, the notebook on the bookcase shelf fell onto the floor.

"Huh? What's that?" Two stopped and let go of the particleboard, dropping it onto his head with a loud thud. He rubbed the bruise and walked over to the bookcase and picked the notebook up off the floor. "A notebook? Number One must've left it behind." Two flipped through the pages until he came upon Five's story and stopped to read it.

"Little did Jane know, but the director of the bank was none other than the devious criminal mastermind, Mr. Moneybags. Known for his notorious embezzling habits in the past, Mr. Moneybags was up to his dirty tricks once again with his new scheme. Jane decided that it was her duty as a top-rate spy to stop the criminal once and for all before all the customers at the bank lost all their money. But just what was this heinous villain doing with all the money? That was what left Jane puzzled."

Number Two cocked his head to the side. "Is that the end? It was just getting good too. Well, it couldn't hurt to take a break for a bit..."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Number Three, can you please stop pestering me? Can't you see I'm writing here?" Two snapped as he reclined on the large red couch in the tree house recreation room and began to erase over a word."

Three pause for a minute and leaned over his shoulder. "But you said you were doing nothing!"

"Well, I guess I'm really not. To tell you the truth, I'm working on a story and I've got writer's block," Number Two sighed and bit the end of the eraser.

"Hey! Why don't you let me try! I'll help you write! Is it a fairytale?" she exclaimed as she waved her sleeves in the air.

"Not exactly, but if you want to help then by all means, go ahead. I've got to get back to work anyways," Two replied and handed her the red notebook. "Good luck with it," he called as he walked back to his room.

Number Three hoped over onto the sofa and skimmed through the pages and stopped at the paper clipped segment and began to read.

"Later that evening Jane returned to the bank to do some investigating. Using her infrared laser pen, she melted the inner mechanisms of the lock on the back door at the back and deactivated the security cameras. Just as she thought she was safe, she tripped through a hidden door on the floor and fell into a vault. It looked like this bank didn't have very safe safes, eh? She turned around when she heard a noise behind her and found herself face-to-face with a giant robot made of money vaults. She turned to run but was stuck. It looked as though Mr. Moneybags was feeding all of the customer's money to the robot and melting it down into liquid goo; most of which was covering the floor she was standing on, which explained why she couldn't move. Jane decided she was stuck in a very sticky situation."

Number Three made a disgusted face. "Ew...that's kind of gross. No wonder Number Two was having so much trouble with this story! There aren't any Rainbow Monkeys in it. What on earth was he thinking?" She tisked disapprovingly and began to rapidly scribble onto the notebook with her pink pen.

"Hey, whatcha doin'?" Number Four asked as he walked into the recreation room.

Number Three abruptly stopped writing and pointed a floppy shirt-covered finger at Number Four. "Ah-hah! I won't make the same mistake Number Two did! I'm doing something, not nothing!" she declared with a hint of secrecy.

Number Four blinked. "Uh...yeah, well, you're obviously doing something. I just wanted to know what."

"I'm writing a story," she replied and folded up the notebook. "Hey, want to play a racing game?" Three asked as she hopped off the couch to search for the console controllers.

"Sure...hey, wait a sec—you had to write a story for school too?" Four asked and grabbed the notebook off the couch. "I just finished mine. Imagine getting homework on a Friday, of all the stupid things," he stated as he scanned through the pages and started to read the story.

"Jane felt sorry for the big bad robot thingy. But it was bad and as a super-duper secret spy it was her job to do something about it. She took out a pretty shiny whistle from her pocket and blew on it, summoning her Rainbow Monkey superhero squad to help her out. The giant robot didn't stand a chance against her Rainbow Monkeys and exploded, sending out tons of cash and stuff into the air like rain. Just then the evil Mr. Moneybags stormed into the vault. Jane tried to attack him, but she and her Rainbow Monkey squad were stuck to the sticky floor. Mr. Moneybags revealed his evil plan—he was going to melt all the money in the world and put it in a volcano so that when the volcano erupted the world would be covered in the melted money."

"You call this a story?! How on earth do you expect a bunch of lousy Rainbow Monkeys to defeat a criminal? They're just stupid dolls," Number Four exclaimed after reading her addition to the story. "Though the volcano was a nice touch," he added after a moment.

Number Three popped her head out from other the couch holding the console controller. "They're not stupid; it's her Rainbow Monkey superhero squad. Of course they'll defeat the villain."

"What are they going to do—hug him to death?" Number Four scoffed as he began to scribble onto the notebook.

Three paused. "You know, I never thought about that. I guess that would work," she replied as she started to hook up to game console.

"Oh yeah, who's got the goods? I do," Number Five grinned as she dumped the candy bag onto the desktop. "I even picked up that gum you asked for, Number One," she added.

"Good work," One replied as he fingered the receipt. It looks like it was on sale too."

"Yeah, I think it was," Five answered as she scanned the empty recreation room. "Hey have you seen my notebook? I've gotta work on that homework before I turn in for the night."

"Eh..." Number One began and frantically raked his memory as he tried to remember where he misplaced it.

"Hey, never mind, I found it," Five called as she picked up the red notebook off the couch.

One sighed in relief. "Well, I'll leave you to do your homework." He replied and scooped up the candy bag as he left the room.

Five waved and jumped onto the couch. She picked up her pencil, preparing to work on her story when she paused, staring at the eraser. "Aw, man. Who's been chewing on my pencil?" She frowned and flipped open her notebook, only to find several paragraphs under the one she previously started.

"What the heck?" She stared at the random jumbles of letters and sentences making up the last paragraph in disbelief, many of which were haphazardly circled in pink with various spelling indications off to the side in different handwriting. "Looks like someone..." she shook her head at the notebook, "or something wrote my story for me." Number Five shrugged and took out a pen from her pocket. "Ah well, I've got nothing to complain about. It's not everyday my homework does itself for me," she said as she added 'The End' underneath the last paragraph. Some things are better left unsaid.

A/N: Oh come on now. Surely you must have played 'Telephone' at least ONCE while growing up. Anyways, I used to love writing collaborative stories with my friends when I was younger, but we always seemed to mess up the endings. Ah, well.