THE OFFER

Nigel Uno was on his lunch break – it seemed that his life would always be structured in small increments of time: 45 minutes for history, 30 for reading, 15 for recess, another 45 for language arts, 50 for lunch, 30 for quiet reading, 45 for music, 60 for physical education and another 45 for math. Day in and day out leading lectures, discussing assignments, grading papers and quizzes and occasionally spiced with a project or fire drill that only served as a break from the monotony of 4th grade learning.

Nigel didn't mind the mundane tasks of grading and teaching basic education to children; he found it jointly stimulating and soothing. But still he longed for a little more excitement – something to just wake him up and jumpstart his life.

The note came that afternoon…

The last bell rang and the children were dismissed – they filed out of the classroom very orderly, they knew that Mr. Uno was very traditional in his methods of teaching. Most said it was because he was British. Regardless, he had kept several students back for an extra half hour if they ever went running through the classroom or were at all disruptive.

As they filed out, someone left a note on Mr. Uno's desk. He didn't see it when it was deposited so he never knew exactly who left it – it may well have been someone who walked into his classroom from the hall, he was too engrossed in his paper work to notice.

The note was sealed like an invitation to a garden party, so Nigel assumed it was probably from one of the students who had a birthday, or perhaps one of the teachers was having a celebration for some distant relative and wanted to introduce the charming you Mr. Uno – he had become quite popular among the staff at Gallagher. When he opened the note however it had contents very different from what he had expected – the writing was in Courier style and sounded almost as though it were for a secret agent:

Mr. Uno,

We represent an organization with interests involving the sanctity of the safety and education of the children of America and across the globe. Our organization has recently viewed your credentials and is interested in recruiting your services for a number of special assignments for which we would require your exceptional skills.

If you are interested, there is a black car parked outside the main entrance ready to take you to the airport and meet with us at our headquarters. We have secured you a private flight and spoken to your school's administration to give you leave to make this trip. If after meeting with us you still do not feel up to the task of joining you will be returned to Cleveland and your regular life… the details of joining and the work expected of you in this new position will be explained upon your arrival.

DAFDTL

end transmission
Nigel was a little stunned when he read this and at first thought it was an elaborate joke that his senior teachers played on student instructors. Nevertheless he was somewhat interested to see if perhaps that black car was sitting outside the school and that private plane were waiting for him at the airport. It sounded like an interesting adventure, despite how unbelievable it appeared.

Nigel collected his things in his leather briefcase (another novelty that many of his students correlated as being a part of his British habits), and walked out of his classroom. Sure enough, when he opened the front entrance doors of the school there was a black car parked near the sidewalk, and a driver sitting in the front who looked like he would've been at home in the driver's seat of a celebrity's limousine. Nigel walked up to the car and tapped on the window. When the driver rolled the window down, Nigel presented him with the telegram and began:

"Yes hello, I'm…"

"Mr. Uno," the driver interrupted, not bothering to take the note. He wore a pair of dark sunglasses despite the overcast sky and the only part of his body that moved was his mouth. His body might have been made of stone it was so unmoving. "Please get in."

Nigel was a little taken aback by the mechanical motion of this man, but he accepted the invitation with the obedience of a soldier given directs orders from a general.

The ride to the airport was not marked by an extremely disconcerting air, which the driver seemed to exude by his rigidity and silence.

Nigel realized as they passed his college that he didn't have any clothes or toiletries. "Um, do think perhaps we could stop at my room and I could get some…" but again the driver interrupted with a very mechanical, almost lifeless reply.

"Anything you require will be provided for Mr. Uno there will be no need for luggage."

When they arrived at the airport, the car drove through restricted areas, the gates hastily opened by airport personnel who seemed to sense if not already know the authority conveyed by the black car, and none of them wishing to appear as though they were slowing its progress. The driver never turned his head, never slowed, never smiled. Just stared straight ahead with a square, set jaw as though he expected the roads to open before as he willed.

The driver parked the car on a section of the runway where smaller airplanes taxied in and waited to load and unload passengers and luggage. There was only a single small jet stationed here and no ground crew, Nigel assumed the pilot was already on board. Whoever these people were, they sure seemed to have things taken care of.

After several minutes of sitting in the car, the driver, sensing Nigel's hesitation, turned slowly and spoke with obvious finality. "Your flight, Mr. Uno."

Nigel exited the car and walked slowly to the jet. The stairway was down and as he ascended, a gorgeous young woman appeared in the doorway. She was one of those women who would catch you off-guard with a remarkable degree of unexpected beauty, but as soon as you left her you'd forget the pretty face.

"Welcome Mr. Uno, so glad you decided to come. Please have a seat and let me know if there's anything I can get for you."

After riding in a car with a stiff, mechanical driver, this cheerful young woman was a little more than what Nigel thought he could handle, but he said thank you as he entered the plane and took a seat in one of the many large, swiveling seats. Out of habit he fastened his seat belt and almost immediately the plane began taxiing out to the runway and on to take-off.

The flight took less than an hour and though the attendant offered, Nigel didn't ask for any refreshments or distractions. He was a little too stunned by all that was happening to feel hungry or bored. He didn't even know exactly where he was going or what he should be expecting to see when he arrived.

The plane landed smoothly and seemed to take no time at all to taxi into the terminal and open the door for its one passenger. Nigel disembarked from the plane and found himself standing at John F. Kennedy Airport. New York City!

There was another black car parked by the plane, almost identical to the one that had brought him to the airport in Cleveland. The driver was standing outside his car, but he looked just as rigid and mechanical as the previous.

"Mr. Uno, I'll take you to your meeting." He said in that cold, steel voice that sounded so motorized it may have been a machine speaking.

The black car drove across the runway in a perfectly straight line. Nigel had a sneaking suspicion that the driver would continue on this path, without deviating an inch to the right or left even if he were heading through a crowd of innocent bystanders or headed straight for an obstruction.

The car came to a stop as it entered a small hangar on the far edge of the airport. At first Nigel was confused as to why the man had stopped, when suddenly he sensed the hangar rising around the car… or was he falling. The walls and the ceiling stretched upward until Nigel saw an opening coming up in front of them. As soon as the opening was tall enough for the car to pass through, the driver unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to Mr. Uno with a calm stare that seemed to indicate his passenger should do the same.

Both men exited the vehicle and stepped through the doorway into a great hall of white, plastic tiles. Four other people, two young men and two young women, all about Nigel's age stood at a distance from the entrance. Otherwise the whole scene was a featureless landscape of white light.

"Good day to you Mr. Uno." And with that the driver walked back to his car and both man and machine were raised upwards and a white sheet came up to cover the opening.

"Well, so nice of you all to come," Nigel jumped, as five monotone voices seemed to come from the very walls of the chamber. At the far end of the hall, a large section of the wall swiveled open to reveal a group of five people in business suits sitting on a high bench like justices before a courtroom.

Five seats sprung out of the floor facing the bench and Nigel proceeded to take a seat with the other four, each of them looked very intimidated and confused. Nigel took a good look at everyone as he took a seat in the very center: a stocky young man with brown hair, yellow sunglasses and a pilot's jacket, and a thin young black woman with a long ponytail sat off to his left. To his right sat a lovely young girl with long black hair and an oversized green sweater, and a very fit, though slightly shorter than average young man with a blonde bowl cut and an orange hoodie.

The five people sitting up on the bench seemed to move in synchronized fashion, as though one mind was spread throughout the five bodies.

"So glad you could come on such short notice," they began. Their shared voice was as cold and lifeless as that of the drivers that Nigel had met on the way.

"Allow us to introduce ourselves, we are the DAFDTL…"

Here the young blonde man off to Nigel's right interrupted with a strong Australian accent… "Sounds like how I spelt daffodil in middle school." Nigel and the other three giggled. "Does that stand for something?" the guy in the pilot jacket asked.

"That is not important at this time." The five-in-one snapped. "Let us proceed. We represent an organization with a goal to making the world peaceful. Obviously no such goal can be accomplished if we are not ready to make efforts to suppress that which attempts to threaten that peace. Which is why we have summoned you all here."

Nigel was wondering if perhaps he was in for more than he had bargained for.

"You see for the past few years, a global terrorist group have been making efforts to recruit children into their cells, bringing destruction and suffering to nations all over the world. Their common logo is relatively innocent: The Kids Next Door. Our organization has been given authorization from the federal government to combat these terrorists and suppress their attacks on society…"

Nigel was hearing every word of the sales-pitch, but he felt as though he weren't really in this room, wasn't really hearing this – like when something sounds so unbelievable you're convinced you're dreaming. I mean seriously: Nigel Uno – fight terrorists?

"…so here is the deal," it seemed the presentation was wrapping up, "if you accept this offer you will go where we instruct you, you will conduct top secret missions with set objectives. If you are ever caught we will disavow all knowledge of your existence. We have arranged with your respective schools to excuse you for these assignments and provide you with time to make up work in your courses.
"You will never use your real names while amongst your fellow operatives and will be identified by the codenames which we shall assign you. And as a reward for your services, you will each be paid a fee of $200,000 at the conclusion of your service – which will culminate at the end of next March. Are there any questions?"

More than I can name, Nigel thought to himself, so he didn't bother trying to put any of them into words.
The black girl off to his left had something to say: "Yeah, what exactly will these 'missions' entail us doing?"

"That all depends on your abilities, of which we are most greatly aware of. All of you were drawn from a pool of hundreds of thousands of students all over the country for your individual talents, and we intend to use those talents only where they are of use. Don't be concerned about being given any impossible tasks, we do have your best interests in mind."

"But you're asking us to fight terrorism," the girl to Nigel's right spoke for the first time, "isn't this dangerous?"

"As we stated before, we won't put you in any situation you won't be capable of handling. Most of your missions will be of the lowest possible risk and most will involve collecting intelligence.
"Now, if any among you feel that you are not up to the task – there is a door behind you through which you are free to leave."

Nigel turned around and saw that the door had indeed opened again: this time the elevator platform was empty. Every bit of common sense in Nigel was screaming for him to get up and march right out that door and not take a single glance back, but it was the mention of the children involved that made him hesitate the most. He hadn't gone into teaching to turn away from children who had problems when he felt it was going to be a lot of work – and he felt he had a duty to help any child who needed it. As he sat debating this thought, the door closed.

"Splendid," the quintet proudly declared, "now that we know who intends to stay it is necessary for us to assign you your names. Reach under your seats and you will find all the documents for your name as well as your occupation and the occupations of your co-operatives in our organization."

Nigel reached under the chair and found several folders, which he immediately set to perusing as soon as he withdrew them from the slot. His file was on the top. Numbuh 1 was what it said under Codename, Team Leader under Occupation. He was stunned to think that he would be in charge of anything, he had been expecting a more subordinate role, perhaps an underling to a senior member of this agency.

He set to looking through the other folders in his hands:

Numbuh 2 – Pilot/Tech Specialist/Communications. It said that he had military experience and would be in charge of aerial superiority and weapon manufacturing for the team, as well as providing communication while in the midst of an operation. Nigel felt a little comforted by having someone with military training around.

Numbuh 3 – Reconnaissance/Diversionary Tactician/Medical Officer. This girl had medical experience in basic nursing, but she knew enough to keep a person alive long enough to reach a hospital should any operative encounter an emergency situation requiring medical aid. She had been in gymnastics for many years and had remained athletic throughout her college tenure. She could indeed provide a great deal of diversion if necessary.

Numbuh 4 – Combat-Expert/Assault Leader. This guy had been in martial arts from about the age of six and had been trained in old-style martial arts in Australia. He had a long record of fights from as far back as when he started grade school. This made Nigel feel both secure and nervous at the same time – someone who was that powerful and that aggressive was as much an asset as they were a liability if they couldn't take orders.

Numbuh 5 – Infiltration/Espionage. This girl seemed to have made disappearance and near invisibility an art form throughout her life. She too was a very proficient athlete and had done gymnastics and martial arts for many years. Her quiet, non-threatening demeanor often made her blend in with her surroundings, and she had a great deal of experience with computers, which would be important for her assignments.

As Nigel went over these credentials he began to wonder why exactly he had been chosen to be a part of this team. The rest of these guys seemed capable of much more than he was – they'd had experience in their respective fields and were relatively seasoned – he was just a mild-mannered student-teacher, what exactly did the agency see in him?

"Now then," the quintet of monotones woke Nigel from his concentration, "if you please." And as they spoke, a door opened to Nigel's right. Picking up the files and feeling uneasy about what was awaiting him just beyond that doorway he proceeded with the other four into the next room.

As they came through, the five strangers began introducing themselves, remembering to use their codenames. As they were getting to know one another, their superiors followed through the doorway and called their attention back:

"Now then, let us get you settled, and tomorrow you'll begin your first assignments…"

Author's Note: Let me know what you think – thanx for the reviews.