It's been a little over a day since the phone call from Moon Base. I am now there in a large auditorium packed with thousands of chattering, impatient children: my fellow KND operatives. There are what seems like a hundred cameras on me as well, recording live for the millions of operatives who were unable to make it.
All this was done for me. I told Numbuh 85, the current head of Moon Base, that I demand not be decommissioned until I get to say my farewells to everyone. And I meant everyone. So she set this all up, gave me a mic, and said I have 2 minutes to say what I needed to say. When the time is up, the mic will be turned off, then I'll be escorted out.
I step up to the mic, look around at the crowd, and find my best friend Numbuh 16 sitting 8 rows back. I glance behind me and look back at Numbuh 85, who taps her watch, indicating that time's ticking. I face forward again, take a deep breath, and start my speech.
"You have all be gathered here for an important announcement from me. To most of you, I am a nobody. I have nothing notable or truly heroic for the Kids Next Door." I laugh under my breath, "the best thing I've done for this organization was simply suggest sherbet instead of ice cream for the operatives-in-training who are lactose intolerant." I hear a mix of boos and cheers from the crowd. I pause to wait for the commotion to die down. When it finally does, I speak up again, "But the reason..." My voice trails off. My mic has been turned off. I quickly turn around and see two operatives marching towards me, ready to take me to decommissioning.
I panic and run towards the edge of the stage. With all the strength I can muster, I yell, "I am related to Father!"