Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, he was aware he was falling.
Yet despite that tidbit of vital knowledge, he really couldn't bring himself to care. He really didn't care about anything at the moment. He couldn't care, nor did he feel. Odd as it was, he didn't feel his body plummeting rapidly to its doom. Didn't feel the cold rain pelting his face relentlessly. Didn't feel the shivers racking his frame due to the harsh wind. Didn't feel any of that. He was numb to it all.
His face reflected that feeling. His expression was a purely blank slate; with no emotion whatsoever. His shades had slid down to the tip of his nose, but he made no move to adjust them this time. Didn't need to, for his eye were solely centered on something that wasn't even there anymore. He was far from happy, but wasn't sad (or at least that's what he kept telling himself with every painful thump of his heart) he was just neutral. He was indifferent as he stared ahead, thinking.
Thinking. Always thinking, yet never having any results to show for it. Could he even call it thinking? Had he really been thinking, he wouldn't be here this very moment. His brow twitched and he concluded that he had been…stupid.
So unbelievably stupid.
He had suspected everyone. Everyone.
More logical ones such as Chad, 74.239, and Infinity.
More less plausible ones like Fanny, or maybe Patton.
Not even his team, his second family was safe from his flawed deductive reasoning. All four of them fleetingly crossed his mind once. Ever since he stepped foot in the desert he thought it could be anyone.
Anyone except her.
The notion that Numbuh 362, Rachel T. McKenzie, could be the traitor seemed outrageous. For some reason, he still couldn't grasp it; even after she pushed him out of an airborne ship to fall to his likely death. After all that, he still had doubts. But he was just deluding himself now. Because as much as he wanted to say otherwise, he knew it was her. Those were her warm chocolate eyes staring back at him. Those were her silky golden locks running through his fingers. That was her small yet heartfelt smile that he would love to claim as his. It was Rachel, the Rachel he knew back when he was a sector commander and she was his Supreme Leader.
But as with everything else, she had changed.
She had agreed to deal with the remnants of the Teen Ninjasz so easily if it benefited her. She had lied without remorse to get him away from the Moonbase and into her clutches, and apparently, when she had no use for him, she was all too happy to toss him aside like yesterday's trash.
But he didn't know what pained him more: the fact that the girl he held dear to his heart did something like that, or that she knew how he felt and used it against him. Was what she implied, what she said all lies as well? Did she care for him at all?
He doubted he could honestly believe her. Not after this. Not after she had left him and Abby to…
...Wait.
"NIGEL!"
Abby's scream shook him from his foggy headspace and the bald teen finally took real notice of his surroundings. He was falling; falling right in the middle of a furious storm. Wind and rain assaulted him from every possible angle. His head snapped over to the right and he spotted Abby. The girl's arms were stretched, trying to gain some semblance of control over her rapid descent, and her face was molded into a mixture of frustration and fear. His SHADES were lowered enough to where he could make out her eyes, and for a fraction of a second, they flicked in his direction. As if begging him to take charge of the situation.
Nigel's brows furrowed in concentration. After taking a glance at his boots, he gritted his teeth and began to act and maneuvered closer to Abby. His hand found hers, and after securing it, he pulled her towards his body and clicked his heels together, but even after the initial taps, nothing happened.
"What?" Nigel craned his neck and looked down, startled, when his jet boots failed to activate. The Brit cursed the storm, blaming the weather on his boot's malfunction. "Come on!"
Abby glanced away from Nigel and looked down. Her brow arched in confusion when she made out something in the distance. After adjusting her sunglasses, her face paled as she saw the jagged landscape approaching fast. "DO SOMETHING, FOOL!"
"I'm trying!" Nigel growled back as he kicked his feet together. With every passing second and no results to show for it, his anger built up. His fist clenched, his face morphed into a snarl, and his frustrations of the night boiled over. "Damn it!" The operative threw caution to the wind and spread his legs as far as they could reach. "WORK!" Then, with all the strength he could muster, he slammed his feet into one another with so much force it left his heels numb.
But that was enough. After impact, the thrusters in his jet boots spluttered and spat out tiny sparks of flame. Then finally, they roared as they flung him upwards with surprising speed; so much that Nigel wasn't prepared for it. The two teens screamed with new fear as Nigel's jet boots carried them haphazardly through the air. After one violent flip, Abby's hand slipped out of Nigel's. The girl's reflexes were quick, as her opposite hand shot out and latched onto the Brit's shoulder. She held on for dear life as Nigel pivoted his body upward and barely missed crashing into the ground.
The Brit calmed and straightened his body as he managed to gain control of his flight pattern. He then raised his gaze and gasped in shock as he curved past an incoming tree. Then another, and another after that. After a moment of realization, Nigel was reduced back into a disheveled mess as he tried to dodge every oak that passed by as they flew deeper into the forest. But with the rain nearly blinding him, and leaves smacking his face, the task was near impossible.
Abby herself wasn't having any easier of a time. With every twist and turn Nigel made, it was nearly impossible to keep a steady grip. She ducked as a stray branch nearly took her head off. She glared back at the offender and angrily mumbled a few choice words. With that danger avoided, Abby looked down to see Nigel struggling. The girl then glanced up to watch ahead and found herself anxious once more as Nigel set himself on a straight crash course for a new obstacle. "WATCH OUT FOR THAT –"
BAM!
"Tree." Nigel hissed as his face buried into the bark. He felt the weight on his back disappear and could make out Abby's shouts as she fell to the ground a few feet below. But he was finding it hard to hear or see anything as aching pain began to surge forth. His eyes clenched shut, and his head throbbed as he fell back from the tree. Pained groans escaped his lips as he fell through the branches, and all the air fled his lungs as he hit the forest floor with an agonized thump. His eyes opened slowly, and the world seemed blurry all around.
Nigel tried to move into a sitting position, but his newfound headache forced him down. His hand moved towards his face, and he found it a bit odd he couldn't feel his SHADES framing his eyes anymore. His arm fell onto wet grass, and he slowly took in the area. But he was finding it hard to stay focused, everything was getting dimmer and darker. The boy then gave up all pretense of getting up, let his head fall back, and stared on into the sky. He had pushed his body to its limit tonight, and the events were finally taking their toll.
He stopped paying attention to the world around him once more. He dimly made out the raindrops splashing against his face, and the female body hovering over him trying to shake him awake. After a few failed attempts, they stopped and then he felt his body being lifted and carried somewhere. Nigel struggled to open his eyes a bit and was met with Abby's determined face. He saw her lips moving but couldn't process what she was saying. And as he found himself succumbing to his exhaustion, her features obscured. Before he blacked out, Nigel swore he saw Rachel. Her taunting eyes and cruel smirk would forever be embedded in his mind.
(I'm so sorry, soldier.)
Rachel would be lying if she said she wasn't expecting that to hurt.
Though surprisingly, she would also be lying if she said was expecting it to hurt that much.
But she wouldn't take the blame.
No, this was all his fault.
His fault for invoking that warmth that she long labeled as dead. His fault for building up her hopes with that cheeky smirk and alluring accent. It was his fault for saying no. Because all he had to do was say yes.
Say that he would give it all up like she did. Say that he would always be there for her so she could take comfort in the fact he would never leave again.
Sadly, Nigel couldn't do that. He couldn't, because that would mean he would have to stop being who he was. He would have to stop utilizing all the high-quality technology that science fiction nerds would dream about. He would have to stop traveling to exotic locations that seemed to only exist in fantasy. He would have to stop parading around the vast galaxy on his glorified campaign against adult tyranny. He would have to stop playing this stupid game and stop being the hero.
Maybe a bit of it was her fault. It was her fault for having a crush on a kid who was never supposed to grow up.
But none of that mattered now. Nigel may be unable to grow up, but she had such a long time ago. Things would be different this time. She wouldn't huddle up in her room, lock the door, and bawl her eyes out like some little girl; this time she would take a deep breath and force herself to get over it.
She wouldn't hunt after fake monsters like the 'Splinter Cell' and blame them for Nigel's sudden disappearance; this time she would blame the bald idiot who went AWOL and show him what happens to operatives who think they're important enough to usurp her authority.
She wouldn't snap at people like Fanny, Patton, and Abby days before her (fake) decommissioning and blow off some steam on the pathetic DOH-DOH squad; this time she would let that anger fester and release it on anyone dimwitted enough to get in her way.
Nigel had made it clear where his allegiances lie, and if they were against her, then that was too bad. It was his loss. She couldn't care less.
(you're lying…)
Rachel's brow twitched as she forced the voice away. Like she needed to be put on some idiotic guilt trip by her conscience. It was far too late for any of that now. The blonde's strict gaze shifted forward slightly to glance out the windshield and noted with mild interest that the storm seemed to be nearly nonexistent here. Perhaps she was in that calm eye the teachers always blabbed on about.
Deciding to take advantage of the quiet moment, Rachel leaned back into her seat, hiked her leg over the other, and let her arms dangle across the side. She blew a stray bang away from her eye, then groaned as her sore forearm brushed against the arm of the chair. Numbuh 5 was improving. The last time she had the unfortunate opportunity of running into her, the teen operative hadn't even landed a hit on her. As troubling as it was to admit, had Nigel and his naiveté not been present, she would probably be plotting her escape right now.
The thought of the bald boy caused her eyes to linger back toward the bay doors. Rachel stayed focused on the spot where she sent Nigel and Abby tumbling over into the furious skies below. The blonde ignored the pang at her heart and her eyes rolled upwards as she thought of their current fate. Things from here on out would be much simpler if they were dead (images of their mangled bodies twisted her heart, but she suppressed it) but sadly, she knew that would not be the case. She had pushed the Numbuh One and the Numbuh Five of the Sector V out into the dark and banked on some little fall to do them in.
She would be a complete Buffon to think that any member of Sector V would be so easily disposed of.
"Great." With a huff, Rachel leaned forward and rested her head in her waiting palm. Her fingers massaged her skin as she thought of ways to ease her oncoming headache. Numbuh 5 was challenging enough, but now she had to take Nigel into account. He would find a way to track her down, no matter how impossible others would label it. As much as she wished against it (liar), she knew they would run into each other again (hopefully).
And after what happened here, she honestly didn't know how she felt about that (you know exactly how you feel).
'Why didn't he just say yes?'
Her lips contorted into a small snarl as her hand traveled somewhere hidden under her seat. With quick movements and a jerk of her wrist, she found a slim, black suitcase in her lap once again. She stared at the case with a look fused with resentment and wonder. It was almost funny. Years ago when she was a child, the thought of people fighting for their lives over something so small would seem ridiculous. But that wasn't important, nor were the details of how she obtained it. She had what she wanted and knew exactly what she intended to do with it.
Rachel's fingers rattled against the suitcase as she plotted out her next move. Her original plans of going to the remnants of the Teenz had ended horribly. It seemed doable at first. Go to the teenagers and use the evidence to fuel their anger at the KND, then use that fraction of followers to gain the adult's attention. The resulting explosion was inevitable and all she had to do was supply the match. Her revenge, retaliation, payback - whatever others wished to call it - was complete and she could go home and reward herself with a nice slice of cheesecake.
But then Nigel had to show up. Had to show up with the whole decommissioning squad and ruin that. Thinking back, Numbuh 4 probably would have called them in regardless, but it was so much more satisfying to blame all her woes on Nigel now for some reason. It seemed justified. Because who in the world expected him to be there? Then again, she probably should have seen that coming too given the fact she stole data from the GKND…but still, it was completely unexpected. And it completely messed everything up! With no teens backing her up, she didn't have enough leverage for the adults. As incriminating as this evidence was, it wasn't enough to get them to assist her. And she didn't have anything else they wanted; all thanks to Nigel.
Her eyes widened as she was hit with a sudden epiphany. She glanced at the suitcase with a keen gaze this time, now with a faint idea of how to take care of this business once and for all. For now that she thought about it, there was one adult she knew of that could fully assist her, and now with Nigel back, she had something that adult wanted. But now the question came was she willing to go that far?
Was she willing to lower herself to ask for his help?
"Oh, the drama." Rachel sarcastically gasped as her hands moved to the terminal, inputting her new destination. The ship veered to the port slightly, and soon she found herself being jettisoned in a new direction. This chapter of her life could finally be closed soon enough. But one would ask why she of all people would be doing this. It didn't seem like her at all, but if questioned about it, she would scoff. Was she doing this for a simple motive such as money?
No.
Perhaps on a self-fueled mission to save the organization she once loved from itself?
No.
Or maybe the answer was a tad bit more personal. Maybe she was doing this because of Nigel –
"No." Rachel forcefully interrupted before her thoughts strayed to places she rather would not have them. "This isn't about anything, or anyone else." She leaned forward, her hands clasping around the wheel with a bit more grip than necessary. The calm was over, and she found herself deep within the storm once more. "I'm doing this for me."
(you're lying…)
This wasn't how he imagined he would be spending his younger years. He thought he would be doing something far more grand. He always thought that this would be the peak of his childhood before he got into more serious business as a teenager. He thought he would be out patrolling the streets, keeping children safe as the cape-bearing, cool vigilante that put fear in the hearts of ne'er-do-wells, yet inspired awe from the waves of admirers he protected. He always thought that he would be expanding around this point, maybe scouting out some potential sidekicks.
Unfortunately, The Tommy had hung up his cape and cowl years ago. The Tommy had retired around the same time the Kids Next Door was forced to retire Hoagie's numbuh. All that was left was Thomas 'Tommy' Gilligan; the ten-year-old boy who was forced to take the mantle of the man of the house and watch the remains of his family wither before his own eyes. It was a far more important assignment than going around pretending to be some superhero no one ever took seriously, to begin with.
The young figure of Tommy slowly trekked up the stairs of his home, preparing to undertake a mission he performed every night. The boy stopped at the peak of the staircase, glanced over his shoulder, and peeked into the living room. He took in the ragged form of his mother, the woman on the phone with probably another medical professional. Tommy shook his head, knowing it was hopeless. Adults knew nothing of the technology that crippled his brother. But if it gave his mom hope, even false, then he wouldn't deny her of it. He simply stored the information away and continued on down the hall.
Tommy looked all around him as he continued his short walk. He knew every nook and cranny of this place, yet he always found himself taking in every little detail. Like how much dust had gathered around the door leading to Grandma's old guest room. Or how the pictures capturing all the happy moments of their family seemed to decrease in number with every new step. The child shook his head again, seeming much older than what he looked.
Soon his walk ended and he found himself at the doorway of a room he knew all too well. Had it been years ago, he would be standing in this very spot and plotting ways how to sneak in and get his super cool brother to hang out with him. But this was different, so very different. Now he found himself not wanting to go in the room, just so he didn't have to see the mess inside. But he had a task to do, so with a straight face, Tommy gripped the knob, twisted, and let himself in.
Oddly, he found that he had to press against the door with a bit more force than usual. Once inside, he looked down to the floor and saw the source of the problem. Crumpled sheets of paper had quickly piled out and some had managed to roll over and collect right at the doorway. As he entered, Tommy kicked the paper aside and analyzed the rest of the room. The bed was in disarray with the Yipper bed spread dragging against the carpet, and the pillows were located at opposite ends of the room. The floor was littered with an assortment of used paper and broken pencils that had been carelessly tossed aside, and other than that, the room seemed barren.
Tommy glanced over all of the walls, sadly noting how all the blueprints of airplanes or other crazy types of inventions had been torn down. Labeled as useless. The boy sighed, then looked down at the plate in his hand. In the center was a warm bun holding a freshly made chili dog, made just the way his brother liked it. Tommy glanced up to the desk near the window and prayed that Hoagie would at least take a bite of it tonight.
His brother was where he could always be found nowadays. The ex-pilot of sector V was hunched over his workbench, his pencil scribbling wildly against paper working on solving a problem that only existed in his mind. Hoagie was much more thin and decrepit than one would have remembered, and his trademark aviator cap was nowhere to be found. If he took notice of Tommy's entrance, then he ignored it as he kept working on whatever held his focus at the moment.
Tommy strayed up to his older sibling and slumped when the older boy didn't even seem to notice he was there. He tried to see what was going on in his eyes, but the pupils were hidden behind his cracked goggles. Hoagie had thrown such a horrible tantrum when they tried to remove them. They apparently 'helped him think', but that was all he caught between his mumbles. Because that was the only way they could get an idea of what went on in his head. Hoagie hadn't talked to anyone since the accident that made him this way all that time ago.
"Hey, big bro." Tommy sullenly began. As expected, Hoagie didn't comment. Just kept working on his problem. The boy sighed, then forced a smile as he lifted the plate to his brother. "Mom made franks, and I managed to sneak ya one." He pressed, hoping to gauge some reaction.
Hoagie didn't blink. He just continued to work tirelessly with his problem and didn't even register Tommy's appearance. Seeing that his brother would still not respond, Tommy decided to be a bit more forceful. With careful movements, the boy placed the plate on the desk and lightly shoved it on top of the sheet Hoagie was busy writing on.
"But it's your favorite." He reasoned, getting a bit hopeful when Hoagie paused to stare at the meal in front of him. "Just a little break couldn't hurt, right?" He waited with bated breath as Hoagie continued to stare at the chili dog, but finally, Tommy's hopes died when the older boy simply frowned at it. Hoagie made a sound that was a cross between a grumble and a whine and shoved the plate away; immediately continuing with his work once the paper was in sight again.
"You're…you're probably not hungry." Tommy let loose with a strained breath. He then adjusted the plate to where it wouldn't fall off the side and left it there. He wouldn't force Hoagie to eat it, not after what happened the last time. With a heavy heart, the young boy turned after sparing his brother one last look. "J-Just promise you'll eat it later, okay?"
Hoagie made no move or sound to show he heard him, and Tommy figured he wasn't about to get any. The younger boy walked over to the door leading out of his brother's room but stopped once he felt something bounce off his back. He quickly turned around and noticed a discarded piece of paper floating towards the floor. He looked up to Hoagie to see him scrambling to pull out another sheet of paper, then looked down to the one he just tossed aside. Curious, Tommy picked it up and went over the contents carefully. But it was nothing different from what he saw before. Just incomplete equations.
2+3-4=
5-4=
2+4-5=
4-3=
It went on and on in that sort of variation. Sometimes other numbers would appear, numbers like six, eighty-six, two hundred seventy-four, or even three hundred sixty-two. But it always came back down to the first four. Starting with two and ending at five. Every equation was blank, and Tommy noticed a long time ago that the answer to every blank equation was one.
Tommy looked back up to his brother, his brother that the rest of the world labeled insane. But it wasn't his fault he was like this. It was Numbuh 5's fault for ordering him to go in alone, or perhaps it was stupid Numbuh 1's fault for leaving his brother behind. But whose fault it was, it didn't matter right now. Hoagie was too far gone and concentrated on finding the answer to a simple problem. Tommy figured that there was much more to it, much more to the number that his brother was looking for, but he didn't want to think about it anymore right now. So after bidding Hoagie goodnight, Tommy disappeared into the hall leaving Hoagie to scribble random gibberish.
(g-gotta...focus...)
He was pretty sure that this wasn't what a dream was supposed to be like. Not that he remembered a lot of his dreams, but he was certain that something was supposed to be happening. But nothing was happening, nothing at all. He knew for a fact he wasn't awake, and he was sure he passed out while Abby was carrying him. So he was asleep, yet he wasn't dreaming of anything. Maybe it was one of those dreamless sleeps, but if that were the case, wasn't he supposed to just wake right back up like he didn't even fall asleep in the first place?
Okay, now he was just confusing himself.
Nigel walked into the dark void he assumed was his dream. He figured it best to just call it a weird dream since he couldn't think of anything else to explain it. The last thing he remembered was passing out after crashing headfirst into that stupid tree. Even now it still stung. The bald rubbed his forehead a bit, then continued to his unknown destination. It was so unknown that he didn't even know where he was going.
After a few more minutes of getting nowhere, Nigel halted and gave a thoughtful look to his blank surroundings. If this was a dream, then couldn't he imagine anything he wanted? Deciding he had nothing better to do, he held his hand out and clenched his eyes shut in concentration. Once he thought up an image of a cherry popsicle, he opened his hopeful eyes only to pout when he realized nothing appeared in his hand. Darn, and he had a sudden craving for a cherry, too.
"Well, this is utterly pointless then," Nigel grumbled to himself as his arms folded across his crimson t-shirt. If he couldn't do anything in this dream then he might as well wake up. He had work to do. His mission was just picking up and Rach – Numbuh 362 needed to be apprehended. Just as his thoughts strayed to the blonde, Nigel felt the distinct urge to glance over to the left. Giving in, he looked over and his eyes widened as he realized he wasn't alone here. "Numbuh…RN8?"
The bewildered operative slowly walked over to the figure of his alien friend. The girl was as he remembered her, with her gray almost sliver-tinted skin and dreadlock-like tendrils falling back off of her curved cranium. Her face consisting of two blood-red oval eyes did not flinch in the slightest as he neared her. When he finally stopped in front of her, she barely seemed to acknowledge his presence at all.
"Numbuh RN8?" Nigel questioned again despite the girl not answering. The boy frowned as he waved a hand in her face. "RN8, what are you doing here? Hello?" Still nothing. He snapped his fingers and made a childish gesture, yet she just stood there; her eyes glowing like always. Nigel let loose an annoyed huff and was tempted to poke her for a response. "Are you even listening to me?"
"She can't respond to you, Number One, or else her concentration will be broken."
Nigel snapped around, fists raised, and ready to face the unknown assailant. When he fully faced the voice, he found to his immense shock that he was staring down three strangers. Three more aliens with varying appearances. One on the left appeared to be female and the most humanoid of the trio. Her skin looked almost bleached while her large, round lime eyes peered at him. Her long purplish hair was done in an odd, twisty ponytail, while the rest of her thin body was hidden behind an amber cloak.
The one in the middle was obviously the shortest, as the tiny alien looked like an overgrown slug. Its slimy amethyst skin gave off a reflective glow even in the dark void they were all located in. Its two small eyes regarded Nigel carefully, and the rest of its body was covered by a smaller version of the one the female wore.
The best description Nigel could come up with for the last alien was an almost cute, fuzzy spider with four legs. It almost looked like a stuffed animal Kuki would've loved to have in her collection. A green fuzzy substance covered its round puffball-like body, and he could make out three blue eyes amidst the hair in the center. Its four, thin legs tapped impatiently against the ground, and its eyes held annoyance for apparently having to be present. It too had a small amber cloak like the other two, and it dangled against the ground every so often.
Nigel kept an even expression as he viewed them all. He had met, fought, and encountered all sorts of species throughout his galactic tour, yet he had never seen these three. His commander claimed that there was at least one candidate from every species in the galaxy, but he had never seen these types before. "Who are you?"
The spider alien made a rapid clicking noise before he spoke something he could understand. "You know of us as the Important Ones."
"The Important Ones!" Nigel exclaimed, yet despite the fact his superiors were present, he made no move to salute them like before. The Brit then arched a brow as he looked them over once more, noticing how their figures weren't hidden like the first time he had an audience with them. "Uh, you do know that I can…see you, right?"
"We're well aware of that." The female spoke with a high-pitched voice. "Our forms aren't concealed from you this time. It's why we had reservations about contacting you this way." The child then spared a subtle dry glance to the slug alien to her right. "Well, some of us did anyway."
"I agreed, didn't I?" The slug groaned with a deep, dripping voice. "But honestly, I cannot stand telepathic communication. It makes me look fat."
"Telepathic communication?" Nigel glanced over his shoulder to take in Numbuh RN8's still form once more. His mind put pieces together and he faced the Important Ones again. "Just what is this?"
"As you know, Number RN8's species communicate telepathically. But when they reach their adolescent stages, they develop the ability to communicate over vast distances." The slug alien explained. "Number RN8 is beginning to hone this new ability, and since we're on the station outside of your system, we requested that she bridge our minds so we may deliver this message to you."
"Bridge our minds?" Nigel furrowed his brow as he absorbed the information. "So that's why I passed out…"
"No. You passed out because you hit a tree." The spider alien corrected with an irritant click. "Shall we hurry this along? Number RN8 is beginning to show signs of severe strain."
"Yes." The female agreed as she turned towards Nigel. "Number One, we've resorted to using this type of contact to deliver a vital change in your mission objective."
"Change?" Nigel felt a lump form in his throat, but he pressed on; awaiting to hear the news. "What sort of change?"
"Your time frame has been shortened. We can only allow you until the end of the current Earth month to complete this mission."
"End of the month!" Nigel shouted in disbelief. "But I had two!"
"Yes. You had two." The slug alien intoned with a strict gaze. "But that was before you let the situation with Number Three Sixty-Two spiral out of control."
"I did no such…wait." Nigel paused as he relayed the Important One's last statement. The Brit then let his eyes narrow as he glared at the three with a level stare. "Number Three Sixty-Two? So you knew. You knew who I was after and didn't bother to tell me?"
"We saw it as the best action to take." The female spoke this time. "We knew of your emotional attachment to the fugitive and decided against informing you of her identity. We didn't want to take the risk of you holding back before capturing her, and you were performing quite well...until you allowed personal feelings to affect your judgment."
"But I…" Nigel began to defend, but couldn't come up with anything in defense. The bald operative then settled for glaring at the three again. "But then why send me at all?"
"You were not considered at first due to personal involvement, but Number Infinity heavily insisted that we send you on this mission."
Nigel showed visible surprise at that statement. "Number Infinity insisted?"
The spider alien narrowed its eyes. "Yes, he insisted. Though now after seeing what has happened, we're beginning to reconsider his advice. Your 'TND' is searching into where Number Three Sixty-Two stole the data from and it won't be long before they discover us all on their own, and then there's the fact that the Kids Next Door Decommissioning Squad is reopening your case file due to an operative claiming to see 'a bald teen that looked like Numbuh 1 in the teen jailbreak'. A jailbreak you had no permission to start!" The spider raged as his clicks rose in volume. "That's insubordination!"
"Calm. Down," the female scolded with a roll of her eyes. The spider looked about ready to retort, but just made an annoying click and looked off to the side. Seeing that her fellow council member had quieted, she continued where he left off. "The point is, Number One, is that as long as the fugitive roams free with that evidence, then our risk of exposure heightens. We cannot stress how disastrous it would be if the warmongering adult community of Earth found us out too early."
Nigel sighed as he massaged his temples, wishing all of this was some horrible nightmare. Not only does he find out Rachel is a traitor, but now he's being forced to capture her much earlier than he had been prepared for. Life was truly beginning to suck. He then looked up with a questionable gaze, deciding he should prepare for the worst-case scenario. "Say I run out of time. Say I fail to catch Ra – Numbuh 362 in time. What happens then?"
"Then we can't afford to waste any more time and we fall back on the alternative."
Insert annoyed facepalm here. "Pretend I don't know what the alternative is."
"You are Infinity's option, so you are the diplomatic approach, more or less. He hopes you can reason with the fugitive, either into destroying the evidence or into coming along peacefully. By sending you, we have the chance to take care of this situation as quietly as possible." The slug paused as Nigel began to get a grasp of it. "The alternative is the exact opposite."
"How so?"
"Should you fail, we will order a task force to go planet-side and eliminate Number Three Sixty-Two and the evidence she carries." The female motioned her tiny hand around as she spoke. "Once she is taken care of, we will decommission the entire planet and put the Kids Next Door of Earth through code: Reboot to ensure nothing like this happens again."
Nigel wasn't exactly clear on what all of that meant. "What's a code: Reboot?"
"When a global KND post goes against regulation or presents a threat to us as a whole, we shut down the post for an undisclosed number of generations and rewrite their manual, or 'Book of KND'." The female paused as her eyes traveled skyward in thought. "I believe your planet's post has just come out of a reboot a few decades ago. I think it was because they were barring females from entry or something."
The spider groaned as he thought of the Earth post. "I personally want this, Teens Next Door nonsense destroyed. Global posts instating teen operatives without our permission; it's madness! The planet's clearly too far gone; too infected. Honoring the human's terms was a mistake; we should just save ourselves the trouble and shut it all down for word gets out."
The slug alien turned to his fellow member with a passive stare. "You know it's too risky without proper cause to justify it before Infinity's grace period expires. Besides, if Number One completes his mission, then there will be no need to shut down anything at all. The less noise we make, the better."
"Oh, and what a fine job the skeepleb has done so far."
"Um," Nigel interrupted, still shell-shocked from the information he had just received. "I'm still here." What the heck was a 'skeepleb'?
The female Important One turned to him with a frown. He noticed they seemed a tad shocked - as if he indeed was hearing things he wasn't meant to hear. She quickly played it off, giving him a dismissive wave of her hand. "Yes, why are you still here? You have work you should be doing." Then with a snap of her fingers, the Important Ones' images shimmered slightly before they disappeared completely. Nigel quickly looked behind him to find Numbuh RN8's figure, but his alien comrade had vanished as well. Suddenly, he felt incredibly drowsy as he began to wobble. Finally, he fell back, but he never hit the nonexistent floor. He just kept falling.
During his fall into his dark dream void, Nigel guessed that he was waking up. The darkness around him was starting to fade and bits of light crept in every time he closed his eyes. But then he supposed he was opening them in the waking world. So with one final yawn, Nigel found himself coming out of his weird dream.
(I still don't know the answer, Rachel...)
The office of the towering building seemed incredibly dark. The dim light filtering in from the window barely helped the matter. It merely cast a large foreboding shadow over the man seated at his desk. The adult barely moved from his position, his eyes simply dull behind reading glasses. His pupils trailed over the files atop his desk mercilessly, as if trying to find some hidden gem within the useless information. A random bystander would think the files and documents were business-related, seeing as the adult in question was the head of the company. But upon closer inspection, these files weren't business-related at all. They spoke of a twisted, personal vendetta that truly displayed how contorted the man had become.
The files scattered across the desk were filled with locations and possible leads. Some were marked out with large red X's, and others were circled and flagged with question marks; deeming them places of interest. Pictures of sorts were mixed in with the files, some with giant treehouses and one of the moon itself. But the bulk of the photos contained one similar image. A boy, a bald boy with sunglasses and a red turtleneck. Sometimes, he was alone; walking down the street or running away from one of his past co-workers. Other times he was with other children; either his four teammates or possible acquaintances. But they didn't matter. Those leads had been useless.
His fists clenched the arms of his chair as he felt anger bubbling in him once more. They said they didn't know where he was, but they were lying. All miserable children lie to protect their snot-nosed friends. He knew every single one of them was lying to him. That blubbering excuse of a pilot lied to him when he claimed not to know what happened to his bald friend. Even his delightful children lied to him when they claimed he got away and they didn't know where he went. They all lied and he showed them what happened to little punks who think they can lie to him. They got their punishment, just like that bald boy would get his.
The man suddenly lurched forward, combing through the files looking for any new evidence that would benefit his search. A wild, crazed gleam entered his eyes as he suddenly clutched a crumpled photo of the bald boy in his hold. He would find that boy. He would find him, punish him, and he would get his pipe back! He would show them he wasn't crazy, that he needed to grow up. He would prove to everyone who was the better man. He would prove it all and then his Pappy would be proud and –
You're pathetic.
"W-What?" The adult suddenly stumbled as the voice of his father rang through his head. His hands began to quake and he clutched his head in what appeared to be discomfort. "No, Pappy. I-I'm not –"
You're nothing more than a disgraceful waste. You couldn't even beat one insignificant little child. A snot-nosed brat is worth more than you!
"N-No." The man cringed as he hunched over. "I-I'll –"
You'll do nothing. That's all you've ever been good at. You were born a nothing, and you'll die a nothing once you run whatever's left of your sad excuse of a company into the ground!
"Just…just sh-shut up." The man lowly growled out, the heat around him beginning to rise.
You dare to call yourself a Father? You're not even man enough to start your own family. Had to go out and steal children like the little worm you are.
"Shut up."
You're a miserable excuse of a son. I should've disowned you when I had the chance. I always did like your brother better.
"SHUT UP!"
The adult snapped as a blazing burst of flame erupted all around his form. In his stint of anger, he raised both fists and slammed them down on his desk with violent force. The wood splintered in half on impact, and whatever remained burned to a crisp in the heated aftermath. The man's rage left as quickly as it came, and once he was slightly calmer, he leaned down and picked a still intact photo between his fingers.
Another picture of the bald boy.
Father glared at it with a look filled with contempt and spite, and he was all too eager to reduce the horrid momento to ashes within his grip. "I will get my pipe back, boy. I will!"
"Mr. Wigglestein?"
Father glanced down toward the smoking remains of his desk. There between a pile of ashes were the functional remains of his intercom system. The adult glared at the device and voiced his disdain as he spoke. "What?"
"There's, uh, an important call for you on line four. The girl says it's a family matter."
Father arched a thin brow as the woman went on. He then settled into another one of his scowls as he reached down for the intercom. He hoisted the device in his lap and held the phone to his ear while he switched to line four. "Who is this?" he graveled out evenly.
"Hello, Father." A female voice grumbled over the line. "I would say it's nice to speak to you again, but it's not."
Father snarled at the attitude in the girl's tone. "I'll have you know that the last punk who prank-called me got a free cremation."
"Oh, I'm sure he did." The girl sarcastically snipped before continuing. "Look, your voice makes my skin crawl so let's be quick. You have something I want, and I have something you want."
Father bit back a growl. "What do you want?"
"I have a big juicy secret that I want to share with the world, and I need you and your company's resources to get the message sent across." She then paused and he could almost picture her thoughtful look. "Speaking of your company, I have to ask; Evil Adult Industries? Seriously?"
"What makes you think some hormone-ridden puss bag has anything I could possibly want?" Father retorted back, contemplating just hanging up.
"…Jerk." The girl grumbled. "Fine, I'll just tell your nephew you said hi."
Father froze as those last words struck a cord deep within his mind. A gleam entered his eyes once more, and it took all his willpower not to crush the phone in his grip.
"Where."
"Oh, you're still talking to me?"
"WHERE!" He raged as he shot up, flames licking against his form. Blood lust entered his gaze as he began to plot all the devious ways he could pluck his pipe from his dear nephew's charred remains. "WHERE IS HE?"
"Slow down, hotshot. You agree to help me when the time comes, and I'll bring Nigel straight to you."
(I'll show you Pappy, I'll get my pipe back. T-Then you'll be proud of me...)
Score one for weird dreams. Hope it was worth the wait, which hopefully won't be as long next time.
Later.