Otto never guessed something like this would ever happen to him.
But really, he should have seen it coming. Why did he ever think he deserved her, even for a split second?
It all happened so fast, Otto wanted to believe it was all part of a bizarre nightmare, one that he would eventually wake up from.
He could still remember walking into that office, Olive by his side for the last time.
He could still remember that purple sheen of the Ms-O-inator, shooting out and striking Olive with a cold violet light. The events, as best as he could remember, went something like this:
It had begun as a fairly normal day, with Otto called over to a weird TV show set, called the "bizzarre brigade". He was assigned with the simple task of returning the head of a woman named Sheila back to her body, with a simple nonchalant blast from his Head-Put-Back-Inator. He was rewarded with applause from all around, with delight at Sheila's sight returned to her. If only Sheila could see what was about to happen.
Otto and Olive were called into Ms.O's office, with Otto foolishly thinking this was just another case he and his partner had to solve.
But he was wrong.
It turned out, Ms.O had called them into her office to discuss what should be done about Mr. O. He had recently retired, and since Ms. O had all of a sudden stopped being enemies with him for 200 years, decided to take it upon herself to choose his successor. And she just so happened to choose no other than Agent Olive, the best, and really, the only friend he has ever known.
When it had first happened, Olive and Otto were both shocked. Olive had jumped out of her head, grabbing her new director jacket, as if to make sure it was real, that this was really happening. She almost immediately began talking trying to confirm what she was seeing.
"Wait, you want me to-"
"Run your own Odd Squad." Ms. O had finished the sentence.
"I hope you say yes, because I don't have an un-Miss O-inator" Oscar, the one to build that awful device, who didn't even have a gadget to reverse what he did, had yapped.
"YES!" Olive had loudly accepted.
Otto wanted to be excited for her sake, wanted to jump up and congratulate her. But he couldn't. The words were stuck in his throat, like glue.
They were something along the lines of,
"WOW! This is amazing! If anyone deserves it, it's you."
But Otto just stayed still, blankly watching her express her excitement.
Olive began to jump up and down, chittering on about her new promotion.
"Eeeeeeeee! I'm so excited! Is the skirt a must or is pants an option?" Olive began.
"Oscar will explain that, and go over the rest of your training." Oprah replied.
Otto gave a quick gasp, as he turned his head to see Oscar jump up out of nowhere, now right next to Olive, tugging on his white lab coat nervously.
"Can I bounce up and down with joy as we go?" Olive asked the scientist.
"Absolutely!" Oscar chirped in that sing-song voice of his.
Olive then did just that, Otto growing a little dizzy seeing her so energetic. He could never get that kind of reaction out of Olive.
Oscar scurried over to her side, and Olive continued her bouncing as they walked out of Ms.O's office together, surely to begin their training already.
Otto watched her squealing get fainter and fainter, until there was silence in Ms. O's office once more. Silence that soon began to grow deafening.
The second Olive became a Ms O, Otto knew he should've been happy for her. Should've cheered her on.
Should've went, "Wow! Olive's becoming a Ms. O. "
But once again, he was lost for words, and turned his head back to face Ms. O, his face feeling weirdly numb and his eyes feeling weidly fragile. The words had stung Otto like a thousand hornets. What was happening to his partner?
"So exciting." Piped an unfamiliar voice from behind him.
If Otto didn't feel dizzy enough at all this, now he certainly did. Where did this kid come from?
"Sorry, who are you?" Otto replied uncertainly, in a voice that wavered more than he wanted it to.
"This is your new partner, Agent Ohlm." Came the brisk answer from Ms. O.
"Ohlm?"
"It's pronounced Oooooohl-m."
"O-oohlm?" Otto corrected himself, his voice breaking just the tiniest bit, again.
Ohlm looked like he was about to contradict him again, but instead, for some strange reason, a glint of...intrigue? flashed in his eyes instead. He quickly took a breath, and replied quickly,
"Yeah."
Otto nodded, then turned to Ms. O. "Ms. O, What's happening?" He replied, sounding more shaky than he wished.
"Now that Olive's moving up, you get a new partner. And just in time. A spider cat is on the loose-"
"Wait, Ms. O, does that mean I won't work with Olive anymore?" Otto chipped in, a dark pit beginning to grow in his stomach.
"Nope. She will run her own Odd Squad as a Ms. O. You'll stay an agent and work with Ohlm." Oprah then abruptly switched topics back to the spider cat. But Otto couldn't pay attention.
A cold sinking feeling washed over Otto. Olive, the partner he had worked with for who knows how long, is now leaving him? Otto felt a faint ringing in his ears, lowering his head to gaze at the carpeted floor. His surroundings began to blur for a moment, until he felt the sliff numb feeling in his face break, blinking as something wet began to fall down his face. He heard the murmering of his new partner, but it just faded into the backround.
"Hey. Otto."
Otto shook out of his daze. "Huh, what?"
"I said, what's a pattern?" Oh. That shouldn't be too hard to explain.
"A pattern is something that repeats itself." Otto proceeded to explain the definition of a pattern to Ohlm, not having any time to dry his face with his sleeve.
"I need you to figure out the pattern, and predict where it will strike next so you can catch it."
"That girl Pooly Groove might have info."
"You mean Polly Graph." Otto gently rebuked him, his voice growing to frail too snap at him.
"Oh. Is that how you pronounce it?"
Otto nodded his head.
"Okay! Ohlm nodded his head and began to walk out of the room, waiting for his partner outside of the glass office doors.
Otto took a moment to gather himself. He couldn't make himself follow Ohlm. So, he did the only thing he could do at the moment.
"Ms. O, can I talk to you for a sec?" He asked, his voice whittled down to a whisper. Ms. O cocked her head.
"About this new partner thing, I-"
Otto took a breath, "I just don't think it can work."
Oprah's face looked almost willing to listen to him, with a flash of concern on her face that lasted only a split second, but it soon faded.
"My hands are tied here. She's already been promoted."
"B-but, I had no idea, why didn't we have time to prepa-"
Oprah shook her head, and raised her palm to get him to stop talking.
"It's too late to argue against it. Now go." Oprah replied matter-of-factly, pointed her arm out the door.
Otto, frazzled, said nothing and whipped around, approaching his patient partner at the door. He ears began to ring again, as all of the agents going about their daily duties in the bullpen seemed to now look like vague blobs of color.
"Wow, that's so cool. You must've been real lucky to have a partner like that." Ohlm pitched in again, breaking Otto's mindless haze.
A brisk "yeah." was all Otto could muster out, his voice clearly strained. He knew he should've kept chatting with Ohlm, telling her how great of a partner Olive was, how he could always rely on her to be there for him, -or at least he thought he could- Or how many difficult cases Olive had singlehandedly solved, leaving Otto in awe.
He knew he should've let Ohlm know just how qualified Olive was for the job, how respected she was by her former partner. But Otto couldn't even utter a single word. He didn't want to.
Instead, all Otto wanted to do was cry. He wanted to cry like nothing else. To have Olive come back and comfort him, patting him on the back and telling him, goofy ol' Otto, that he might've misunderstood the situation, misheard something, and that everything was going to be okay. But it wasn't. And he heard everything right.
Otto tried to smile as best as he could, put on a happy face. Raising the corners of his mouth in a feeble attempt to show a false happiness.
Even if it felt like the tears that were rising behind his eyes were threatening to flood headquarters like the ball pit once did, many, many times over.
Otto brushed away the tears forming. His new partner, nor anyone else passing by, couldn't see him crying. He had to look professional at his job. He gave a brief sniff and tightened his jaw.
Wordlessly, Otto began to continue walking, slowly going downstairs to his office, Ohlm trailing close behind, in what sounded like almost weirdly "deliberate" footsteps.