Remy smiled sadistically as his forward-mounted beam cannons ripped through another squad of V-Drones. They had been in the battle for ten minutes and the end was already in sight.

"Only six more squads to go!" reported Trixie from her spot at the rear turret. Two Resistance fighters soared by, guns blazing. She laughed as the light from the resulting explosions died down. "Make that three!"

Tim was based in a sperry-ball gun turret on the belly of Remy's assault craft. Any V-Drone foolish enough to try and attack from below was riddled with a score of bullets. This came at a cost, though, he was running out of ammunition and would soon have to resort to the basic cannon. The laser fired from the basic cannon was prone to overheating and also happened to be the weakest weapon installed on the plane. Three squads to go, he thought to himself. That's okay. I can make it! He shot down two more V-Drones and smiled as they spiraled to the ground in smoke.

Remy's hands shook from the adrenaline pumping in his veins. "This is living!" He shouted as he flew trough the fiery remains of two more V-Drones fallen victim to the forward-mounted cannons.

Tim looked down and used to zoom-in function on the turret to see al the least eight more squads flying in low. They were heading straight for the Resistance dog fight about to end. "Remy!" he spoke into his communicator, "Eight more squads heading towards us."

"Crap." Remy checked his plane's radar. Tim was right. He checked the plane's vitals. Tim was running low on ammunition, the ship itself was depleted of its energy shields, and to top it off, they were low on electricity. "This is not good."

"What?" Trixie asked. "We can take 'em. Just call some of the R-fighters to follow us and take them out."

"The plane needs to charge, though." Remy told her. "I have enough energy for thirty minutes then my reserves kick in."

"How long do the reserves last?" Tim asked as he fired long-shots at the approaching wave.

"Approximately five minutes." Remy replied. "It is normal fuel so it burns much faster than Electro or Pulse Liquid." He banked to the right then sighed. "I'm sorry, but I gotta take her to base." He set the course for the main base.

"No!" Trixie shouted. But Remy had already started the transit and had taken his earbuds out. She bolted from her seat to the cockpit in record time, but was still too slow. "Remy! Are you trying to kill us all?" She demanded as she returned the plane off autopilot then jerked the yolk forward to nosedive the plane.

"What do you mean?" he asked as the ground got closer. "It seems that's your agenda right now!" He made a futile attempt to regain control of his ship.

"You'll lead Victoria to the base! Moron." Trixie slapped the back of his head then righted the plane. The craft skimmed just feet from the ground. Remy tried to see the logic in what she did. Then he heard an explosion followed by another. He looked at the screen showing his tail and saw a rain of V-Drones slamming into the deserted streets of Vicksdale. They had had no time to recalibrate their course.

"Uh, guy?" Tim's unsure voice came over the intercom. "The ground is lookin' kinda scary this close!"

"There's an even better way to get home." Remy checked the radar and the ground radar. When certain no one and nothing would record or see, he hit the ST button and the blast shield retracted, the lights went back on, and the Attack Force 9 reverted to its inconspicuous private jet disguise.

"Whew!" Remy wiped his brow.

Tim exited the Sperry-ball gun turret. In the jet-mode, the turret was stored between the cabin and the cockpit. He grinned as he sat back in the copilot's chair. "I have good new and bad news."

"Good news?" Remy asked.

"We kick ass!" The two boys exchanged high-fives.

"And the bad news?" Remy asked.

"You're almost out of armor-piercing rounds!" Tim laughed and Remy joined him.

Trixie crossed her arms as she watched the two boys laughing and exchanging their 'guess how I shot this guy down,' and 'I still think I got more kills than you!' stories. "Boys…" She sighed. "Uh, base in sight!" She said aloud.

"She's right." Remy pointed at the area that was the main hub of Resistance activity in Vicksdale. "Let me take her down."


Chester and A. J., now on crutches, approached Remy's private jet. "Sweet." Chester purred as his hands ran along the smooth metal plating of the jet.

"Can I help you?" Remy asked the young mechanic.

"Oh, yeah! Is there anything I can do your you gal, here?"

Remy cocked one eyebrow, but nodded. "Yeah, it needs to be recharged."

"She." Chester corrected.

"Huh?"

"She needs to be recharged." Then Chester turned back to the large machine. "Isn't that right, girl? Yes you do. Oh, you're a special one!"

"Uh, dude, calm down. It's just a private jet!" Remy sighed.

"This? A private jet? Either you're stupid or just trying to lie to me about your plane. If you are trying to lie to me about your plane, you are still stupid! This, my friend, is an Attack Force 9, model number 602 from EurAsia, Sector 3. Not to mention it is illegally outfitted with…" Chester put his ear to the belly of the ship then traced his finger over one engine. "…a sperry-ball gun turret and a Lightning Engine model number 7URB0-66."

"Don't mind him, Remy." Trixie laughed. "Chester's our best mechanic. He has the hands and the mind for machines."

"Don't forget a great heart." A. J. added. "Did you get the chair?"

Tim exited the plane with the prize in tow. "Yeah. Hey, Remy. You gonna leave that kid on board?" he asked.

"Oh, man. I totally forgot about him!" The fifteen year-old dashed into his plane and returned carrying the still unconscious boy.

"Who's he?" A. J. asked.

"He's a recruit escapee." Remy replied. "I'd say that he's about twelve. Here, he was holding this." He handed A. J. a box. "I haven't opened it."

A. J. handed the box to Tim, who opened it. "Sunglasses and a comb." He said with awe.

A. J. scoffed at the contents. "As if those are important!"

"They are!" Tim said firmly. "Like I've said before, I'm not from here. So whatever may seem useless to you, is special and important to me!"

There was a moment of silence. This was broken by Trixie who said, "We definitely need to get that chair working!"


-1 day later-

Remy stood at the entrance to his plane. It had been repaired, refueled, and freshened up. Chester definitely had the magic touch. As he shook hands with the child mechanic, he saw through the hanger's window, Trixie and Tim smiling at him. Remy thought back to his adventures a day earlier.

From them parachuting from his plane to helping him out in the dogfight, he found it hard to believe that they were only eleven years old. "If every Resistance kid grew up like them," he said once Chester had left. "Victoria would be out of power in months. Heck, days."


"It won't work." A. J. stated.

"What?!" Trixie, Tim, Chester, Michael, and Kaytlin exclaimed at once.

"The chair's here, but it still needs one vital piece."

"And that is?"

A. J. sadly chuckled. "The power source."

"Are you friggin' kidding me?" Tim kicked a crumpled piece of paper in the Test Room.

"We got our butts in danger for a chair that wouldn't work?" Trixie exploded.

A. J. nodded. "Apparently, she was expecting this and separated the battery before moving it from New Zealand."
"If she expected this, wouldn't she have bugged it?" Kaytlin asked.

Tim nodded. "She did, but we blasted it with a low-frequency EMP wave. Any bug running on any frequency would've been overloaded."

Michael sat on the ground in temporary defeat. "Where is the battery located?" he asked.

A. J. shrugged. "You can only hope Shade can locate it. I'll let him know what has happened."

"Good. I can get a foreign team set up in no time! I just need the location!" Michael stood up to return to guard duty.


-1 year later-

"Hey, Tim." Twelve year-old Trixe approached her long-time friend. "Kaytlin and I are heading out, wanna come with?"

Tim looked at Trixie. It had been exactly one year and two months since he had screwed up the timeline and inadvertently created this hellish future, but he was still everyday happy and surprised to hear Trixie Tang talk to him as a friend and confide in him her dearest secrets. Despite having his alternate memories of his life before the screw-up, there were still things he couldn't recall. Trixie had filled him in on some of it, though.

"Yeah," Tim replied. "I'll come."

"So this is what it's like when everyone's outside…" Tim looked around him. His whole life he had been cooped up inside the Resistance base.

Everyone had on their own item of clothing. It seemed so muchlike the world he had screwed up, he thought that he actually was back in happy times. But, of course, things were not always what they seem. Upon closer inspection, Tim discovered small, but important things that set apart his happy life from the one he was now experiencing.

On each person's neck was a bar code with a personal number beneath it. This was used for identification and purchases. The bare minimum a person needed was in that code. Their money was there. If someone openly stood against Victoria and her world government, they'd just turn that barcode void and that person was cut-off from society. They would be unable to buy or sell anything making it impossible to buy food. Also, you would loose your home and be erased from the public records. If you did an outstanding achievement for the New World, your name was erased and credit was given to a person apart of Victoria's party who was above the law.

Then came the worst part; Victoria would wipe everyone's memory of you through their barcodes. Even if they bumped into you once in their life and never spoke to you, that incident was erased then replaced with whatever Victoria saw fit. So, according to Victoria, you never existed.

Of course those with enough money were exempt from having the neck barcodes.

Kaytlin ushered her friends inside a clothing store. "I hear they have a new shade for gray for sale!" she told them. As Kaytlin ran off to find some shoes, Trixie picked out some clothing then stepped into a dressing room. Seconds later, she reemerged wearing a sparkling red dress.

"Well?" she asked.

Tim's jaw hit the floor. "Uh…Wow." The dress emphasized her body and curves while still being modest.

"I take that as a 'good?'" She smirked.

Tim dumbly nodded. "Yeah, lovely."

"Why, thank you! I might get it." She went back into the dressing room and reemerged in her street clothes.

"Why? Is there any occasion?"

Trixie nodded but didn't tell him what it was. "Wait till we are home." She approached the cash register and placed the item on the scanner. The machine beeped.

"Why don't you get these shoes, Trixie?" Kaytlin had found them.

"Oh, I can't" Trixie replied as she scanned her neck for payment. "I don't have enough money."

Not enough money!? Never thought I'd hear a Tang say that! Tim thought.

"Okay, I'll buy them." Kaytlin scanned her neck.

A. J. had given the three of them temporary barcodes for their night on the town.

These temps worked like a normal barcode, but they were stamped on the neck instead of being sewn into the skin, and carried a set amount of 5,000. You then could sell items and use it like the standard, however, when ever someone was 'exiled' from existence. Instead of forgetting that person, these code would invert the orders and give you information about the exiled person.

The Exiled made excellent spies for the Resistance for they had nothing to loose and they were untraceable because they didn't exist. If an Exiled made contact with a person, or even an entire city, while carrying out a mission, that worried no one, because the memory of that Exile would be erased seconds after the encounter. A well-known Exile was Michael the foreign lands expert.

As the three made their way back to the base, Tim couldn't help but cry. Every person he passed he knew, but they didn't know him. Between walking from the store to base, he had seen the Dinkleburgs, A. J.'s parents, Tad and Chad, and Francis. He was later told by Chester, however, that Francis was apart of the Resistance and was currently searching out other Exiles in hiding.

"You'll never guess what!" Chester greeted them at the door with excitement.

"Uh-"
"I said you'll never guess, so don't guess!" he yelled. "Shade's found the location of the battery!"

Three blank stares.

"For the chair, come on people. Last year?"

"Oh yeah!" Trixie replied as the memories of her eleventh year returned to her.

"Where is it?" Tim asked.

"Vickstalia!" Chester replied. "Michael's set up a team and is about to leave from the mission soon! C'mon!"

"The last time he was this excited, he was cleaning the trash compactor." Kaytlin muttered as she, Trixie, and Tim ran after the blond boy.


Upon entering, they were greeted by a happy face. Remy was standing next to Michael.

"Remy!" Tim and Trixie ran over to hug their friend. Now sixteen years old, Remy was sporting a pilot's leather jacket and a shortly cut beard. "Hey, dude. Dudette." He greeted them.

"What are you doing here?" Tim asked.

"Filling in for Cassidy."

Tim and Trixie looked down the line of the Special Operations team Michael had assembled and was about to lead. There was Cassidy, the eighteen year-old flying ace. He was undoubtedly going to be their transportation. Next was Jenny, the best sniper for her age. She was only ten. Their demolitions expert was a ten year-old name Mark. He seemed to never age and had a voice bigger than his body. He was wearing a green hat and a pink shirt with a yellow star on the center that provided the much-needed power of shapeshifting. Last was the leader, Michael. He was eleven like Tim and Trixie.

"Let's go, team." Mark called out.

Within moments, the strike team was suited up in the stealth suits, not unlike the ones Tim and Trixie had worn one year ago. Of course with time came improvements, such as the installed personal toilet which Jenny demonstrated. There were three beeps from her suit then she sighed. "I love this thing."

Every one not apart of the team slowly backed away from the youngest member.


Tim and Trixie watched the Special Ops' ship take to the sky for their mission to Vickstalia. They were soon joined by Sanjay and Remy.

"This is so cool." Remy sighed. "I'm finally apart of the Resistance!" He turned to Sanjay. "When's my first mission?" he asked eagerly.

Sanjay shrugged. "You're asking me like I'm in charge?"

Remy swatted the back of his head. "No, I'm asking you to piss you off." He replied sarcastically. "I know you are the one who assigns flying missions."

"Okay tomorrow, you're gonna pick up Francis in the downtown area. He's found another Exile."

"Sweet! I'm gonna get some sleep!"

Tim laughed and looked back to the sky. The Special Ops plane was just a dot on the horizon. Soon, he thought to himself, everyone will know I'm not crazy, just weird. He smiled and unconsciously hugged Trixie closer.

Trixie, who didn't seem to mind, nuzzled closer into his chest and fell asleep.

A/N: Yay 2 in one day! Sorry that there isn't much action but please read and review. The 10 year old Mark on the special ops team is Mark Chang, but he's not an alien, just has a device that can shapeshift him. Also, next chapter should be up next week. It will be about the strike team and contain almost no Tim Trixie or anything till the end when they come back. The Exile you will know from the show. The personal toilet was used by Timmy's dad when he was an astronaut.