Abby gave the doorknob a gentle twist, and easily pushed the door open before peeking inside.
The younger Gilligan's room carried all the adornments one would expect of a ten-year-old boy; action figures lined the walls, some kept in mint condition in their original packaging. Yipper trading cards, comics, and other memorabilia dotted the walls, and Abby's keen eye was able to spot a poorly hidden volume of Rainbow Monkeys in Love novella hastily tucked under the bed.
Her main focus, however, was solely on Tommy himself. He was huddled on his bed, back facing her and encased in a nest of navy blue blankets.
Tommy didn't acknowledge her presence, even as she entered the room. She noticed his discarded vigilante attire, hatefully tossed in the corner after a bout of frustration. It made her sigh, but she continued and plopped herself at the end of his bed. "C'mon, boy. The silent treatment don't suit ya."
"Tell Mom I'm not hungry," he mumbled, burying himself deeper into his sheets. "You guys can eat without me."
Abby shook her head. "That ain't why I'm here." She stared across the room, her gaze landing on his dresser. Socks, underwear, and old capes hung loose from the drawers. Still, her eyes were locked on a pair of frame photographs: one of when the Gilligan family was once complete—once whole—and the other of Hoagie and Tommy, both boys smiling for the camera as the former dropped his little brother off for his first day at the Arctic Academy. Abby sighed, releasing a breath of melancholy as her fingers dug into the mattress. "I'm—"
"I'm sorry."
Abby looked at the young boy, shocked as he spoke. Tommy shuffled, not moving to face her, but she somehow knew he was holding back tears.
Tommy sniffled before speaking again. "I…I used to think you were the worst, y'know? All Hoagie ever wanted to do was hang out with you guys—hang out with you instead of me. I was so jealous. Then after…after what happened, you came around. You stayed up with me nights when I cried, you listened to me blab on and on about Doctor Time-Space and asked questions even though you hate that nerdy stuff. Heck, you let me teach you Yipper Squad Force so I could have someone to play with. That's when it clicked why Hoagie liked you so much: you guys were cool—you were so cool. You were the big sister I never knew I wanted." His eyes cast a downward glance. "But you eventually stopped coming around that often…then, not at all."
Abby controlled her breathing, steeling herself as she gingerly reached out, resting her hand on Tommy's shoulder. To her immense relief, he didn't brush her away.
"I thought you got tired of me or didn't care about Hoagie or me anymore. I hated you for the longest time," he continued. "But now…now I see you were still looking out for us—for me. You were right; I got so caught up in the chance this would work that I couldn't see this was pointless, or see how…how much it would hurt to finally realize he's gone…" He turned his head, eyes wet, red, and free of glasses and goggles as he stared at Abby. "You were trying to stop me from just letting myself down—just tryin' to protect me from all that. I messed up and didn't even see it."
Abby adjusted herself, scooting towards the center of the bed and moving Tommy around. The boy let her, finding himself curled into her side as she encircled him in a warm, sisterly embrace. She chuckled bitterly before saying, "Just cause I was tryin' to protect ya doesn't mean I did it the right way. I messed up too."
Tommy wiped his nose with the edge of his blanket. "Guess it's easy to hurt people you care about without meaning to, huh?"
Abby laughed sadly. "Too easy, baby."
They sat like that for a while. Tommy slowly composed himself as Abby sat there, being his anchor as he took all the time he needed. Eventually, Tommy straightened himself, disentangling himself from Abby but not retreating from her immediate personal space. His eyes rose from the floor, his line of sight parallel to the photos on his dresser.
Tommy looked at the one with his brother, on one of the most exciting days of his life. His first day as a fresh Cadet. Back then, the allure was dazzling; those six weeks could not go by fast enough. Once that time was up, once he aced all his exams and simulations, he could stand side-by-side with his brother, the great Numbuh Two as the Gilligan brothers faithfully served the Kids Next Door to the bitter end.
And now here it was, at the other side of it all. He had somehow survived while his big brother paid the toll.
"Abby," he said softly. The girl looked at him. His question did not come immediately, and he was thankful she did not rush it out of him. "Why…why are you still in the Kids Next Door?"
She frowned, raising a curious brow.
Tommy wrapped himself tighter in his blankets. "I mean…I know you're a secret teen spy and all, but that's not what I'm asking. Why do you still do it, after everything?"
Abby looked away, eyes hard. "Because the Kids Next Door helps kids. It's what we signed up to do."
Her answer was too practiced for his liking. "Really?"
"Nah, but it's easier than tryin' to think of the real reason," she admitted. "Trust me, Tommy, you ain't asking Abby nothing she hasn't already asked herself. Maybe she feels like she has to. Maybe she has to try and make it all right." She tilted her head, allowing the old sunglasses to fall over her eyes and hide. "...maybe she just needs to make up for all the mistakes she and her sister made."
Tommy fiddled with his hands underneath the blankets. "Cree still evil, huh? That's…rough."
"She's…" Abby said but tapered off as uncertainty clouded her thoughts.
Cree was an enigma to her. Cree had always been her big sister, her role model. Abby had looked up to her and admired her strength and determination. But somewhere along the way, things changed, and not for the better. Cree somehow lost her way. Father found her and his influence had twisted Cree, turning her against everything they had once believed in.
Despite it all, a small part of Abby still longed for the sister she had lost. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the girl she had once known, the one who had sworn to protect her no matter what.
But with each passing day, that hope dwindled a little more. Cree's actions spoke louder than any words could, and Abby knew deep down that she couldn't ever allow herself to trust her sister again. Not after going to someone like Father.
But then her sister broke away from Father completely after he attacked the grove. There was a flicker of hope, but it was quashed when Cree still antagonized her and the Kids Next Door, still fueled by some vendetta Abby could never understand.
Then, suddenly, Cree just stopped.
Right before Abby's thirteenth birthday, she and her sister shared one final violent battle—one final attempt to get Abby to see things Cree's way. Abby refused to relent, even with the end staring her down.
That's when Cree suddenly gave up. Her sister had her on the ropes. Had her cornered and right where she wanted her. But then…her face darkened; overcome by some hidden emotion. Out of nowhere, before Abby could process anything, Cree shed a single tear and fled.
Cree left her hanging and licking her wounds. Cree burned bridges with the Teen Ninjaz. Cree broke up with Maurice, ghosted all socials, and took no calls. Cree had vanished off the face of the Earth.
Then, on the day after Abby had made the turn to teenager-dom, Cree returned.
And then Cree didn't speak with her for months.
She gave Abby the silent treatment, a cold shoulder as they went through the motions in front of their parents, but even more phoned in than before. It drove Abby insane. It made her furious. Her sister betrayed her and tormented her for years and when it finally seemed she could get what she wanted, when she could finally gloat, Cree decided she wanted nothing to do with her.
Only one thought went through Abby's mind those first few months: screw Cree Lincoln and the horse she rode in on.
Then Cree had the nerve to extend some olive branch.
Without prompting from their parents, Cree offered to give her rides to school. Cree invited her to hang out with her friends, new friends who had nothing to do with plotting the destruction with the Kids Next Door. Cree covered her sneaking out despite having no clue as to why. Cree tried to return to her role as the big, loving sister.
And Abby felt she had to reject it; harshly. Cree thought her memories of her past sins were gone, that she got a clean slate. Tumultuous teenage years or not, Cree had put them all through heavy doses of tragedy and the pain Cree suffered did not justify her inflicting it on others.
No matter how much Abby wanted her sister back, she would not sit there and pretend there was a magic reset button. There was no miracle fix-it solution. After all that had transpired, she would not give Cree a free pass and had told her as much without giving herself away.
Cree had the nerve to beg before Abby slammed the door in her face.
So, she ignored Cree. Ignored her up until she left for college. But even with Cree gone, Abby could never shake the memories that flooded back whenever she thought of her—their shared childhood, the laughter, the adventures they had once embarked on together. But alongside those memories were the darker ones, the ones stained with betrayal and hurt. Abby traced the contours of her sister's journey from cherished role model to formidable foe, grappling with the tangled web of emotions that ensnared her heart. Cree's sudden disappearance after their final physical confrontation left Abby adrift, haunted by the void left in her sister's wake.
Those fleeting attempts of reconciliation teased Abby with a glimmer of hope, only to be smothered by the harsh reality of their fractured relationship. Each hand offered by Cree felt like a cruel twist of the knife, reopening wounds that had never truly healed. Abby wrestled with the conflicting desires within her, torn between the yearning for closure and the steely resolve to guard her heart against further betrayal.
As the weight of uncertainty pressed upon her weary soul, Abby clung to the fragments of her memories, navigating the labyrinth of her past in search of elusive answers. Yet, amid the echoes of their shared history, one somber truth lingered like a specter haunting her every thought: maybe some wounds ran too deep to ever fully heal, and some rifts can never be bridged.
"I don't know what to think of her anymore," Abby said, mind returning to the present. She offered Tommy a weary smile. "To be honest, probably best to just call it a lost cause and move on."
Tommy looked at the photo of him and Hoagie again. Despite the girl being older and more world-weary, something deep in him made him say, "Maybe…don't do that? Just Maybe?"
Abby did a double take and blinked down at the boy.
"I…I know it's super different. Like, comparing chili dogs to tofu burgers different," he paused as he gagged, "but take it from someone who also lost their older sibling. You…really, really, really regret all the times you spent arguing over stupid things once they're gone."
Abby said nothing for a moment, slowly raising her brow as she regarded Tommy's attempt at advice.
Her stare flustered him as he began to stutter. "Well, not to say betraying the entire Kids Next Door and trying to kill you is stupid, per se, I just thought—you know what? Scratch all that. Forget I said anything. I have no idea what made me say something crazy like—"
Abby stopped him with a soft laugh, this one warm as she lightly ruffled his hair. "You pipsqueaks are gonna make Abby feel all old with how you goin' and growin' up on her."
Tommy blushed under the praise and affection she doted on him. "I'm not used to giving advice like you big kids do…"
"Keep at it, you'll get there," Abby said with a nod. She took off her sunglasses, fiddling with them as she thought of her sister again. As much as she wanted to give credence to Tommy's advice, he was right; their situations were vastly different.
Hoagie was taken from Tommy. Cree chose to leave.
Still, she deeply appreciated him trying. "You would make Hoagie proud Tommy. You…you will make him proud," she said, trying to recover some of that hope Nigel bestowed upon her. "We—you haven't lost Hoagie. Not yet."
Tommy flinched. "But nothing we did worked…"
"We'll…find another way," she said. "Numbuh 1 and I talked and…he's got a point. There's a whole galaxy of options out there. Once we stop Numbuh 362, he's gonna put the heat on his bosses to try and help out Hoagie. Those space nerds owe us for keeping our traps shut about 'em anyway."
"Numbuh 1 still wants to try?"
Abby smirked. "Kid, if there's one thing to know about that boy, it's that he's too stubborn to call it quits." Her smirk softened into a smile, thinking of her bald friend. "Wish Abby was the same way, sometimes."
Tommy considered Abby's words. Some remaining embers of conviction once snuffed out, tried to catch flame once more. He wanted more than anything to think this would all pay off, that it would end with Hoagie laughing it all off with a wink and a bad pun.
But…
"I know you guys mean well," Tommy mumbled, unsure. "But…it's asking a lot to bet it all on the underdog this time, you know? I gotta rely on the Kids Next Door to save my brother. How can I when they can't even save themselves?"
Abby winced, reminded of her failures, trials, and all the tragedies that had led her to this moment in time. "Gotta concede to that one, kid. Abby's real close to just cashing out what stocks she has left in this whole thing too."
Grim as it was, Tommy couldn't help but smile. "Thanks for being honest, at least."
"Someone's gotta give it to ya straight," Abby said. "Abby's a realist these days, baby; she ain't going all-in on slim-to-none odds anymore."
Tommy nodded. "But, whatever happens, at least we got each other again, right?"
Abby looked down at him, her eyes full of sadness. She wanted to reassure him that everything would be okay, but it was outweighed by the desire to return his brother to him.
Even it cost her everything she had left.
"Tommy…I'm not gonna hurt you by making promises I can't keep. I'm gonna do what I can but…Numbuh 5's not so sure she's coming back from this one."
The seriousness in her voice shook Tommy to his core. So much that the inherent Gilligan response to wave it all off with humor sprung like a coping mechanism. "H-Hey, there's being honest and there's being a sour puss, y'know? Lighten up!"
The flicker of Hoagie she saw in his eyes was enough to tear a genuine laugh out of her and placate him for now. She flicked his nose. "Fair 'nuff, dork knight. I'll leave all the doom and gloom to The Tommy."
The boy looked over to his hero attire with a wistful sigh. "I think The Tommy's hung up his cape and cowl for good."
Abby's lips thinned, the room tapering into a silence once more. It was quickly broken by Tommy's rumbling stomach. She shot the boy a sly look, sensing an opportunity to steer things back to fonder subjects. "Not hungry, eh?"
Tommy shuffled embarrassed. "M-Maybe I could have a bite or two. Mom makes really good meatloaf, after all…"
Abby playfully pushed him off the bed, smirking as she jerked her head towards the door. "Go on and grab some grub. Abby's gonna go wrangle Nigel 'fore he runs off doing something crazy again. And hey, we're crashing here for the night, so maybe I could be convinced for a round or two of Yipper."
She was content to see hesitant excitement building behind his eyes as he wandered off to the kitchen, his blanket cape trailing along after him. Abby kicked off of his bed, it squeaking with the weight lifted. She moved to the window, opened it, and gazed down to the porch.
The call for Nigel to get his big butt inside never came as she saw the porch empty. Her eyes anxiously scanned the perimeter for the operative. She was just fooling, but leave it to him to truly run off to do something crazy.
Those thoughts died as she caught sight of him across the street. He was in the center of the empty playground, lying in front of the slide. The shadows cast by the light of the street lamps made it hard to see his expression, but she was relieved to see he appeared to just be lounging.
Abby rolled her eyes with a smile tugging the corners of her lips. Leave it to Nigel Uno to indulge in an old, childish pastime. Feeling nostalgic herself, Abby braced her hands against the window sill and agilely front-flipped out onto the lawn.
"There you are," she mockingly scolded as she trotted up to the boy. Her hands nestled at her hip and she moved into a sassy lean, a few good cheeky retorts already cooked up for his lollygagging. "Took the whole not-getting-old thing seriously, didn't ya? Look at ya, messing around in the playground just like a…"
Any smug teases died as she saw him up close. Nigel did indeed lay upon the cold ground, but it wasn't in a relaxing posture. No, the boy's body occasionally shivered as the wind blew over him, his knees were lightly scuffed, evidence of light excursion, and his arm lay draped across his face, blocking his eyes as his lips were in a tight line.
She didn't know what to think as he took a shaky breath, slowly removing his arm. She was on him in a second as she saw his eyes: red and fresh with tears. His expression was hollow, cutting through her heart as he stared despondently into the sky.
"Nigel! What happened?" She was on high alert, kneeling over him and inspecting for injury. He seemed fine. Beyond the light scuffs on his skin, nothing screamed major injury or the need for emergency help. But she could hardly recall seeing him this torn up. His state brought forth faint images of a long time ago, fresh when the boy had his heart reduced to shreds when he and Lizzie broke up. "Calm down, baby. Abby's here. What the heck has got you so—"
"She was here, Abby."
Abby froze.
"She was here. Right. Here," he said, voice raw and scratchy. He stared into the night sky, searching desperately for that comforting constellation. But clouds had rolled him, denying him even that. "Turns out I didn't need the bloody tracker after all."
Her mind was racing. Conflicting thoughts fought for dominance. Rachel had been here. Rachel had been within her reach. The traitorous witch had waltzed right on top of them and made Abby look like a fool. Again.
Anger surged forth; pure hot anger. "S-She…was here? You didn't tell me? You didn't try and stop her?"
"I didn't," he said, voice strangely quiet and calm despite the accusations Abby spat at him and the tears that continued to blur his vision. "Had every opportunity; could've stunned her, knocked her out, even tied her damn shoelaces together. Had a million-and-one openings and I didn't take a single one."
Slap him. She wanted to slap him senseless with how so damn casual he was being about this and they should praise her as a freaking saint for not doing so. Abby was quivering with unbridled rage as she forced herself to simply ask, "Why?"
"Because it's all my fault."
It was like she fell into a vat of soft serve. The inferno of anger died as his voice caused her to gasp. She was reminded of how he was still crying; of how he looked like an abused puppy abandoned on the curb. Thoughts of revenge and retribution were meaningless as Abby processed for a second that the boy was not in his right state of mind.
Right now, he seemed completely and utterly broken. "Nigel…"
"I mean, all of this is, isn't it?" he went on as if he didn't hear her. No, all he could hear was every painful thump-thump-thump of his shattered heart. "I refused to see the signs. I poured myself into work and shut everyone out; the mission came first because the mission always comes first for Numbuh 1, doesn't it? Friends, family, loved ones…he'd give it all up on a silver platter if it meant playing the hero. And guess what? That's exactly what he did."
He slowly sat up. The steel of the slide glimmered under the streetlight and moonbeams. A hazy reflection stared back at him and it was painful to look into those familiar coal-blue eyes and reconcile with what he saw. "I didn't give you a choice and saddled you with the responsibility you never asked for. I made it to where Kuki had to grow old far too quickly. I convinced Wally he could only rely on himself because I left him behind. I wasn't even there when Hoagie needed me the most." He turned away from his expression, stricken. "And I was blind; blind to how much Rachel was hurting and how she felt like she had no way out."
Abby walked in front of him, slowly kneeling down and gently taking his face in her hands. She forced him to look her in the eyes, and it was pitiful how he gave no resistance. "Nigel, please; what happened?"
"She wanted to talk, so, we talked," he said, looking Abby in her eyes. "I convinced myself it was because I wanted to help her. But now that I think about it, I just wanted to prove to everyone I could talk her down and see reason. I arrogantly thought I could make it all better just because I came back." He let out a bitter laugh. "Pretty selfish of me, huh?"
She shook her head. "Baby, you stayed up weeks on end to make sure we could sleep safely in the treehouse. You got out of bed, sick as a dog on a snow day, to save us and your girlfriend. You even think there's a kid in trouble, you go off without a care about yourself. How are you selfish?"
"Because I loved being the leader you all could look up to. I loved being a super, awesomely cool legend that would go down in the record books. I loved knowing my name would be spoken in the same breath with the likes of Numbuh Zero. I loved being in the Kids Next Door," he said. "I loved it so much, I was willing to throw everything else away just so I could keep going forever."
Nigel closed his eyes, tears seeping through his lids as he darkly smirked. "And I did! I got exactly what I wanted. I got to keep fighting. And when I got fed up with that, tired of galactic regulation getting in my way, I got to come back. Lucky me, right? Even luckier, I had someone like Kuki to make me realize I didn't see what was right in front of me and that my priorities, after all this time, were still messed up.
"Then I stupidly thought I could have my cake and eat it too. I could help Kuki, I could rescue Wally, I could get through to you, I would even find a way to help Hoagie! Numbuh 1 always wins, right? Got high on my own supply and thought I was unstoppable!"
Abby let go of Nigel as he shot up. She rested, crouched on her knees and looking up at him. A sinister smile played across his lips as he continued his angry tirade against himself. Darkness and despair had welled inside him, and she could only watch as he let it all out on himself.
"I lied; I claimed I didn't know what to do about Rachel, but deep down, I had it all planned out, even if I hadn't realized it. Yes, I'd pull some miracle out of my ass and make her see the error of her ways! I'd remind her of how great she was, how mature she was, how our duty mattered more than anything and she'd see the light; because that's how it should be, right?"
He raised his arms, voice hard as she shouted into the night. This mission—this journey was long, hard, and threw twists at him at every new turn.
He was sick of it; sick of all of it. "That's how it should be, but the reality is that it isn't. This isn't a Saturday morning cartoon, this isn't a video game—this is real life and real life sucks! It reminds you the story stops with no happy ending! It reminds you the 'hero's journey' is a load of bollocks! It reminds you that you just keep hurting the ones you love because of how STUPID YOU TRULY ARE!"
Nigel collapsed onto the slide, burying his weeping eyes into his hands. He paused as heard a definitive crunch under his heel. He lifted his boot, and narrowed his eyes, only to have his face fall.
There, crushed and broken, was the red leaf Rachel had playfully tucked into her hair. Back when the world made sense. Back before reality came crashing down.
Back before he realized that, despite how much he wanted to…that perhaps he didn't have the means to save her.
"It just keeps reminding you," he said, voice low and somber as he sat hunched over his knees, "that we're just all alone."
The raw emotion in Nigel's words struck Abby to her core. She felt the weight of his guilt and self-blame pressing down on her, and she struggled to find the right words. "Nigel," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We all made mistakes. We all have regrets. But that doesn't define who you are. Boy, you've saved countless lives, inspired us all, and made a difference in ways you can't even dream."
Nigel shook his head, his eyes downcast. "But at what cost, Abby? For every life we save, we create another Cree. For every choice we make, we spurn another Rachel." He buried his face in his hands once. "How can we claim to help other kids when we can't even help ourselves?"
The question hung heavy in the air, each syllable laden with despair and self-condemnation. Abby felt a lump form in her throat as she struggled to find the right words to comfort him.
How could she when she didn't even know the answer?
She reached out tentatively, her hand hovering over his shoulder before gently resting on it. "I know things seem bleak right now, but you're not alone in this. We're all here for you. We're your friends, your teammates, your family."
Nigel's shoulders trembled under her touch, his gaze fixed on the ground as tears continued to stream down his face. "I don't deserve your support," he muttered, his voice choked with sobs. "I've let everyone down. I've let myself down."
Abby's heart ached at his words, the pain in his voice cutting through her like a knife. "None of us are perfect, baby," she replied gently, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Abby knows that better than anyone. But…times like this, her mom would say that don't mean we ain't worthy of love and forgiveness."
Nigel shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "I don't think love and forgiveness will undo the damage this time," he said hoarsely, his voice tinged with self-loathing. "I've hurt so many people, Abby. How can I ever make things right?"
Abby felt her heart breaking at the sight of her friend in such pain. She moved closer, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. "You can start by forgiving yourself, Nigel," she whispered, her voice small yet sincere. "…because I do."
Nigel buried his face in her shoulder, his body shaking with silent sobs. Abby held him close, offering him the warmth and comfort he so desperately needed at that moment. And as they sat there, two broken souls seeking solace in each other's arms, Abby's eyes stared listlessly ahead into the night. Despite her words, how in the world could she expect him to take advice she couldn't accept herself?
From the moment he found out about Rachel's betrayal, she doubled down and tried harshly to pull that no-nonsense sector leader back out of him. Instead of tending to a grieving friend, she hardened and told him to suck it up. She convinced him that his feelings were irrelevant and the only thing that mattered was seeing this mission through.
And this is where it led him; him falling apart while she tried to hold him together. Yet another in the never-ending bad calls she seemed destined to make.
This is all your fault.
That snake-like voice was back and Abby grimly mused that it told no lies. She had done this—all of this. She had pushed Nigel too hard all so he could help her settle her unfinished business. All because she hadn't been strong enough to stop Rachel herself.
"Where was she headed?"
Nigel raised his head from her shoulder, somewhat shaken by the sudden question. "What?"
"She mention where she might be going?" she looked at Nigel, eyes full of anger but not directed at him. "Give any clue of what hidey hole she crawled back to?"
Nigel sat a bit straighter, quiet for a moment. He reflected on Rachel's final words to him; her last desperate, impossible plea. "She's…waiting for me." Abby's eyes widened, but he ignored it. "She's waiting for my answer," he said, voice brimming with a strange conviction as he stood. "I've—I've got go. I've got to go before it's too late…"
"Stop," Abby shouted, grabbing his wrist. His movements were disjointed, exuding pain and exhaustion. He was barely standing. "You ain't doin' a damn thing right now, you hear me?"
"I—I have to. I owe her that much."
"You don't owe her a thing! Look at yourself!" she screamed, gripping him by both shoulders and forcing him to look at her. "Why are you lettin' her do this to you!?"
"Because despite everything…I still care about her," he admitted, his voice strained. Nigel's eyes met Abby's with a mixture of defiance and desperation. "I have to make things right. Even if it means I don't come back…"
Each word was a bullet to Abby's heart, revealing the depths and lengths he was willing to go to redeem himself in Rachel's eyes. She felt a surge of anguish and helplessness, realizing the magnitude of his inner turmoil and the impossible choice he had to make—the impossible choice he couldn't make.
Her eyes hardened behind the shadow of her shades, mind made up.
"Look at you," she chuckled, catching the boy off guard. "Mister-Oh-I'm-So-Selfish 'bout to go through hell for the people he loves. Again." She lowered her sunglasses, offering him a playful wink and smile. "Man, you truly ain't changed a lick, you know that?"
Nigel offered a sheepish half-smile. "Can't teach an old dog new tricks."
"Hush. If you're old, then that makes Abby ancient," she said with a click of her tongue. She turned on her heel, hand gripping his wrist and dragging him back to the Gilligan's house. "C'mon, let's get you inside."
Nigel tried to fight back, but everything was finally taking its toll on his already taxed body. "But—"
"But nothing. It's late, you're exhausted, and you are in no condition to go chasing after that back-stabbing girlfriend you're hiding," she said. When he seemed ready to protest, she placed a finger to his lips. "Abby ain't asking ya to tell her where Rachel is; she's asking that you puh-lease let yourself get some rest. We're gonna get some food in ya, catch a few winks, then actually make a plan. You know, that thing sane folk do?"
Nigel was having a hard time arguing the more logic she brought into this. He ruefully shook his head. Abby was the only one of them with any real common sense, after all. What did he expect? Still, despite her sound words, Nigel felt his heart tugging him in another direction. "But…she'll only wait until morning. After that I'll…I'll lose her."
There was an obvious subtext to his words and she noticed, easily. She did not comment on it and instead rolled her eyes."Then it's a good thing we nabbed the KNDNA Tracker from the horror wax museum, now, ain't it?" she said as she gave him a nudge. "Look, we'll think of something, and once we've talked some sense into her, I'm sure she'll forgive ya for being fashionably late."
Nigel looked at Abby, her words stunning him and filling him with hope. "You…mean that?"
"'Course, baby," she smoothly said. She leaned into him, smiling warmly as she extended her pinkie finger in an age-old gesture. "Numbuh 5's not letting ya do this alone."
The way the tension left Nigel's body, one would think he deflated. He gingerly raised his hand, affirming the promise as the new dawn didn't seem so far away now. "Thank you, Abby. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Yeah, yeah. She gets that a lot." With another chuckle, she softly patted his back and guided him up the porch. "Now quit moping and get in there 'fore Mrs. G comes and gives us both an earful."
Nigel gave her one last tired smile before dragging himself inside, feet feeling like lead as drowsiness came for him. Once he passed the threshold, Abby's smile dimmed a bit. She raised her hand high, staring at her little finger, and thought of the promise she made the boy.
…then she slowly revealed her other hand and the crossed fingers she had hidden behind her back.
Her lips went into a neutral line. Now that Nigel had assured and disarmed, she just had to let weariness and Mrs. Gilligan do the rest of the work and knock him out flat. It wouldn't take long. She'd then placate Tommy, let him win a round or two of Yipper before he called it a night as well. It would take a few hours, but those hours would also give her ample time to plan.
Abby slowly walked inside, closing the door behind her. Her eyes traveled to the kitchen, Tommy already halfway through a second plate of meatloaf and Nigel sitting himself down. As she looked at the bald boy, she saw her friend, yes, but she also saw that small, defenseless kid she failed to save from the Delightful Children all those years ago. Despite letting him down once before, Nigel had been there for her, even now.
Mrs. Gilligan sat a heaping portion in front of him. He thanked her and dug in. He caught Abby's stare and smiled.
She returned it as she gazed down at her crossed fingers.
"Just like I said, boss," she whispered to herself, "Numbuh 5'll pull the trigger so you won't have to."
"—are you sure you can handle the catering? Normally, I'd do it myself, but it's last minute and my hands are so gosh-darned full…" Father trailed on. His finger twirled the cord of the phone as the voice blabbed on the other end of the line. After a moment, his eyes closed in a smile. "Oh, that's just swell! Glad someone remembers the pecking order around here."
The once quiet Delightful Manor was bustling with newfound activity. Droves of tight suit-wearing businessmen meandered about, almost all of them attending to matters outside of their normal responsibilities. Some were dusting, some were dishwashing, and some were fire-proofing the new shag carpet. The white-collar workforce was out of their element, and it showed as they struggled to get the manor in tip-top shape for the festivities only two days away.
A duo of executives took a step back as a group carried in a pinata layered in sharp, deadly spikes. They gripped their clipboards, watching anxiously as the middle managers tried to gingerly attach the ornament to the ceiling. One of the men's knees gave out, and both executives looked on in horror as the other manager screamed bloody murder as the spike pinata impaled him.
"HEY! KEEP IT DOWN! I'M ON THE PHONE!" Father raged, a plume of fire emphasizing his shout. He raised a brow as two interns ran in, plopping their injured supervisor on a medical trolley. "What happened?"
The two interns flinched, nearly dropping the man groaning to abject pain. "Edgarson got impaled, sir."
"…well, tell him to walk it off. That pinata isn't going to hang itself!"
"He needs immediate medical attention!"
"For the love of—just go," Father grumbled as he pinched his nose. The two interns double-timed out the doors, but not before Father could add, "And remember, this is volunteer work off-the-clock—NO WORKERS COMP!"
The two executives shared a look as their colleague was rushed out the door. The woman clicked her pen, scribbling notes on her clipboard while muttering, "Oh, sure. We go over budget twice? That's fine. Making sure the managers get minimum coverage? Now that's crossing the line!"
"Shut up," the other man hissed, slapping a hand over his assistant's mouth. "He'll hear you."
The woman pushed his hand away as she slammed her chart in his face. "We're in the red, Williamford! The company can't afford this!"
The man began sweating, and whether the cause was the exorbitant numbers in front of him, or the fiery rage of his nearby CEO, was anyone's guess. "Maybe he's gotten a bit…zealous with company funds, but I'm sure he'll reign it in soon."
"Oh, fee shmee, charge me whatever you want," Father laughed into the phone, lounging on his chair while gleefully kicking his legs. "Money is no object."
Williamford paled. A buzzing in his pocket made him pull out his flip phone. He was notified of a new charge to the company card, and his eyes boggled at all the zeroes. "…oh, sweet merciful lord in heaven."
The woman stomped her heel with a click. "Sir, you need to get a handle on this! The board won't stand for such a misuse of Evil Adult Industries' funds!"
"Are you crazy, Karen? He is the board!"
"And he's gonna bankrupt himself and get us laid off…without severance!" She pushed the man closer to Father and rallied in his ear. "Now man up, act like the Head of Super-Boring Accounting Numbers that you are, and tell him to make cuts!"
Williamford gulped as he was pushed towards Father. But Karen was right. Taking a deep breath, he clutched his clipboard and marched on.
"Well, it's been great catching up. See you in two days? Awesome, ciao," Father happily replied as he hung up. He placed the old-timey device on the platter his butler, Jenkins, held up. He shooed the help away as he noticed one of his executives prancing up to him. "Williamford, just the guy I wanted to see! Should be getting the bill for the catering, you got that covered, champ?"
"Um, Father, sir," Williamford mumbled. He looked over his shoulder, Karen silently cheering him on with a thumbs up. He steeled his nerve and frowned at the flame-wielding CEO. "This…reception, you're planning. Don't you think things have gotten a bit excessive?"
"Excessive?" Father said, holding a hand over his heart. "Whatever could you mean?"
"I-I mean, the spike-trap pinata, the upgrade to Sir Toasty Knightamaton, the eleventy-million gallons of rocky road ice cream you ordered…"
Father sheepishly rubbed his belly. "Okay, I'll admit, that last one was kind of a 'treat myself' sort of purchase."
"Oh! See, sir, even you can see that the spending has gotten out of—"
"But everything must be absolutely perfect for my dear little nephew's welcome back celebration!" Father interrupted as he floated into the air, arms spread proudly. "I will spare no expense to ensure that he feels right. At. Home."
"But, sir, this has gone completely out of control! As your head of your accounting, I'm telling you that you need to stop blowing money over some ridiculous—"
Suddenly, Father was right in his face. The smoldering stare silenced him, his plastic clipboard melted in his fingers, and the intense heat evaporated his sweat faster than his body could produce it. "W-What I-I mean to say is—"
"Williamford."
The man whimpered as Father towered over him. He was paralyzed, eyes darting around to see everyone ducking for cover. His boss rose menacingly in the air, the oppressiveness of his aura downright stifling. Williamford prayed to any deity that would listen, but he knew, deep down, that this was it…
"You," Father growled, eyes glowing a brilliant crimson, "are fired."
Williamford curled and sobbed onto the floor. "PLEASE DON'T BURN ME ALIVE!"
Father blinked. "Burn you…why on earth would I—oh. 'Fired'. I see, I see," he murmured to himself with a chuckle. The madman gently landed on the floor, bending over to pat the poor man on the head. "What kinda guy do you take me for? I'm not gonna burn you alive."
The ex-head of accounting looked up, tears of relief falling from his face. "T-thank you, sir!"
Father smiled as he snapped his fingers.
The floor under Williamford opened, and he screamed as he fell to his untimely end.
"That's what the trap door is for," Father mused darkly, expression blanking as he righted himself.
Karen shivered as she watched the floor swallow up her former supervisor. The shivers stopped as she found herself in Father's scope.
"Any constructive criticism you wish to add, Karen?"
"Not at all, Father-sir!" Karen said, voice high pitched with a painful face-splitting grin. She tugged at her collar as she fumbled to step closer. "And as your new Head of Super-Boring Accounting Numbers, I say budget? What budget? The sky's the limit! Do whatever you need to throw your nephew one heck of a bash. As we say in Evil Adult Industries; nothing is more important than family!"
"I think you're going to go far in this company, Karen," Father said evenly. He clasped his hands behind his back, turning to gaze at the portrait hanging above the fireplace. His yellow eyes glazed over as he stared up, entranced. "Why don't you all take an early lunch?"
Karen, and everyone around her, paused and looked at the man's back, timidly confused. No one dared to move…
"GET OUT!"
At his roar, they scattered, leaving him in solitude. He cooled his temper and returned his gaze at the looming portrait in front of him.
The imposing physique of Grandfather, his Pappy, stood forever immortalized within the confines of the elegant frame. Father stood there, gazing at the portrait with a mixture of reverence and determination. The image seemed to almost pulsate with power, and for a moment, he felt a surge of nostalgia mixed with a twinge of envy.
Pappy had been a force to be reckoned with; a titan among villains, a pillar of true adulthood and maturity, and Father had always strove to live up to his legacy.
But as his mind wandered, he couldn't shake the creeping doubts that had been nagging at him lately. Was he truly following in Pappy's footsteps, or was he merely chasing after shadows, trying to emulate a past that could never be replicated?
Would it even be worth it to be just like Pappy?
The thought gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, refusing to dwell on such weakness. Weakness was for naughty, unruly children. He was an adult; the most mature and professional adult ever. He straightened his posture, his will hardening like steel. He had a child to punish, and a plan to execute. Nothing would stand in his way—not even the doubts that threatened to cloud his mind.
With a determined flick of his wrist, Father summoned Jenkins, his loyal butler, who appeared at his side with a bow.
"Jenkins, prepare the device," Father commanded, his voice tinged with authority. "We have a guest to welcome home, and I want everything spick-and-span for when he arrives."
Jenkins nodded silently, his expression betraying no hint of emotion as he moved to carry out his master's orders. Father watched him go, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. Yes, there were challenges ahead, but he would face them head-on, just as he always had—just like the proud adult he was.
For he was Father, the greatest adult of them all. With a wicked grin, he turned back to the portrait of Grandfather, a silent promise burning in his eyes.
"Watch me, Pappy," he whispered. "I'll make you proud."
A strange sensation washed over him. It started as a subtle unease, a prickling at the back of his mind, but it quickly escalated into something far more sinister. The air seemed to thicken around him, and the once-still image of Pappy began to warp and twist before his eyes.
"What's the matter, Benedict?" a voice echoed through the room, dripping with malice. "Feeling a little unsure of yourself, are we?"
Father's eyes widened in shock as the painting's lips moved, forming words that cut through him like knives. It couldn't be real, he told himself, it was just a hallucination brought on by stress and exhaustion, and too many ice-cold root beers. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped him as the room got so very warm.
"You always were the weak one, weren't you?" the voice continued; each word siphoning away at Father's already fragile ego. "Always too yellow-bellied to face life head-on. Too frail of a man to really go the distance. You call yourself a supervillain? You went and let a snot-nosed brat get the best of you."
Father clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He tried to shut out the voice, to block out the memories of his father's scorn and Nigel Uno's taunts, but they flooded back with a vengeance, consuming him in a wave of bitterness and resentment.
"You think you can surpass me? You think you can outdo your own blood?" the voice sneered, its tone dripping with contempt. "You're nothing but a pathetic excuse of an adult, a mere shadow of your former glory and a disgrace to your legacy."
The words hit Father like a sledgehammer. He felt himself unraveling, his composure slipping away as the darkness closed in around him.
"I always did like your brother better."
With a primal roar, Father unleashed a torrent of flames, hurling a searing fireball at the painting with all the pent-up fury of a lifetime of disappointment and abuse. The canvas erupted into fire, the once-proud image of Grandfather reduced to ashes in an instant.
For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames and the pounding of Father's heart. And then, slowly, the haze began to lift, and he found himself standing alone in the charred remains of the room.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, his hands trembling with the effort to control his emotions. In the flickering light of the flames, he saw his reflection in the shattered remnants of the painting, and for the first time in a long while, he saw something new staring back at him—resolve.
With a grim smile, Father turned away from the ruins of the past and strode out of the room, his determination renewed.
Whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them head-on, armed with nothing but his wits and his burning ambition.
For he was Father, the greatest and best adult of them all!
And nothing—not even the ghosts of his past—could stand in the way of his ultimate triumph.
"Oh, children," Father called as he threw the doors open, cackling as he envisioned all the wonderful terrors he had in store for his beloved nephew. "I do hope you're ready to give Nigel Uno a most delightful welcome home."
From the shadows of their room, five mouths slowly morphed into sinister smiles and replied, "Of course, Father."
Ted E. Bear's Mafia Free Funland and Pizzeria had seen better days. The once vibrant pizza emporium—and most certainly not a front for the Mozzarella Crime Family, you can't prove anything—laid abandoned and stripped bare. Stagnant dust lined defunct arcade machines, the suit-wearing bear animatronics were coated in a thick layer of rust, and the pungent aroma of leftover cheese and pizza sauce clogged the air. It was hard to believe such a dump was once a hot spot for underground garlic-knot delivery, bootleg crane machine scalping, and marinara sauce contraband—allegedly. Yes, if hypothetically speaking, a certain crime family were using this place for shady business—which they weren't—one would have to wonder how they ruined such a good thing.
It probably had something to do with Don Ted E. Bear being an actual grizzly bear with a fake mustache and hoarding one too many deep-dish pizzas for himself, which somehow caught the attention of a duo of freelance police and Animal Protection services due to a tip by some organization that rhymed with Rids Hex Snore—or so is the word on the street.
Regardless, even in its current state, the place carried a faint air of whimsy. Rumors of criminal activity aside, the building was rife with nostalgic memories of biting into hot, gooey pizza, diving headfirst into bottomless ball pits, or the adrenaline slotting one more token in the Whack-A-Rat mini-game.
But they were memories Rachel chose not to indulge in. No, she was content to stay cooped up in the play area, stewing in dried tears and misery.
The girl bit into stale hardtack, the last of her rations she managed to scour together. The morsel held no taste, though she doubted she'd care if it did. It could taste like the sweetest, most savory slice of heavenly cheesecake in the world, and her oppressive gloom would still deny her delectable flavor.
Rachel swallowed, throat dry and raw from the exertion of her earlier bout of sobbing. She wiped at her reddened eyes, and any meager thoughts of pulling herself together died as a voice deep inside asked what was the point? There was no one here. She was alone. She should at least let herself have this miserable sanctuary to grieve.
What she was grieving, exactly, was hard to settle on. Was it whatever was left of the operative she used to be? The great Numbuh Three-Sixty-Two had made a deal with the most villainous of adult scoundrels, and despite some feeble attempt at running away from it all, it seemed she was ill-fated to follow through.
Was it the loss of her friends and family? She had spurned Chad's advice, and he had finally given up on her, it seemed. People like Fanny and Patton didn't even remember her, and even if they did, she burned those bridges without thinking. Her family was better off without her, she could never live up to their perfection anyway and would be saving them the effort. Even poor little Harvey was gone, failed by his pathetic excuse of a big sister.
Or maybe, just to be selfish, she grieved Nigel and an old little girl's fantasy that would never come true. She had done too many things and gone too far to ever be deserving of some happily-ever-after with such a boy.
Her eyes slowly wandered over to her knapsack, the flaming red of Father's invitation beckoning to her. She reached out, carefully as if it would scorch her hand. She grasped it, hissing as she shakily held it in her fingers.
It was simple. Hand Nigel over to Father, and it was over. She didn't even need to hand him over directly, just leave the invitation and let nature run its course. Nigel would go running straight into Father's hands, and while the adult got his revenge, she was free to finally put the stolen evidence to use and expose the Kids Next Door for the lie it was. There would be no more traitors, no more kids making harsh choices, no more giving up everything.
No more people like her.
It would be over.
But…
As much as she struggled with her guilt, her grief, and her sense of betrayal, she couldn't bring herself to betray Nigel.
Despite everything that had happened, every lie she tried to tell herself until now, she still cared about him, and she couldn't bear the thought of leading him into danger
Rachel clenched the invitation tightly in her hand and forced herself to stand up. The play area around her felt suffocating, filled with memories she both cherished and resented. She needed to get out, to clear her head, to figure out what to do next.
As she made her way through the deserted pizzeria, each creaking floorboard beneath her footsteps echoed the turmoil within her. She needed a new plan. Father was gullible and obsessed, surely she could find a way to dupe him and get what she needed. Hell, she used to be the best spy there ever was, she should just sneak into his lair and take what she needed.
Even if it was a suicide run, she had to finish this.
Then, amidst the gloom, she heard a faint sound. At first, she thought it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, but as she listened closer, she realized it was the sound of footsteps approaching from the darkness.
Heart pounding, Rachel pressed herself against the wall, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty. Who could be coming here? Was it Father's agents tailing her to make sure she followed through? Or perhaps it was someone else entirely?
As the footsteps drew nearer, Rachel held her breath, bracing herself.
"Rachel?"
She gasped. It couldn't be.
"Rachel, are you there?"
"…Nigel?"
Her heart thundered in her ears as she ran towards the empty stage, toward that achingly soothing voice.
He came.
Despite everything, despite all the hurt she made him suffer, he came.
"Nigel?" she called out again. She pushed herself onto the stage, looking out into the dark plaza for that signature mixture of red and black. "Where are you?"
"Right here."
TWHACK!
Rachel screamed as something violently struck her lower back. She went careening over the stage, tumbling into a table in the front row. It tipped over onto her, the weight of it forcing all the air from her lungs. She inhaled, coughing at the dust and hissing at the searing pain zipping up her lower spine. She was stunned, the impact and weight of the family-sized table crushing her keeping her in place. Something clattered to her left, and she opened an eye to see a voice-altering VOCAL-YOKEL on the ground next to her head.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You expecting tall, bald, and handsome?"
Both of Rachel's eyes shot open as the assailant's true voice filtered into her ears. A familiar sneaker stomped on the VOCAL-YOKEL, crackling bits of metal and static lightly burning against Rachel's cheek.
"Sorry, baby; Numbuh 1's got more important things to worry 'bout right now," Abby said with a smug smirk. She flipped up her glasses and gave Rachel a cocky wink. "But don't you worry; as second-in-command, Numbuh 5's more than happy to take out traitor trash like you."
Rachel's eyes settled in a nasty glare. Under the table, she went to carefully brace her hands against its frame.
Abby, however, noticed, and Rachel stilled as the sharp end of a pike tickled under her neck.
"Nu-uh, you ain't getting away," Abby hissed, gripping her old staff tightly. "Not this time."
Rachel held Abby's glare. "Where's Nigel?"
"Safe and far away from you," Abby growled, venom coating her voice. "I ain't letting you drag him into this anymore."
Rachel's eyes faltered for a moment, Nigel's broken face searing her mind. She hardened any resolve she had left and nodded. "You're right. This is something only we should settle…something only Supreme Leaders could understand."
Abby spat out a bitter laugh. "You think you have any right to call yourself that? After everything you've done?"
"You of all people should get it, Numbuh 5," Rachel said. "See how we were all in way over our heads. In the end, I'm still looking out for ungrateful brats like you. You're just too stupid to realize it!"
"Do you even hear yourself? Thinkin' you know what's best for everybody, just like some no-good teenager…nah, scratch that. You sound just like an adult."
"Then what are you waiting for, Kids Next Door!?" Rachel yelled, face twisted into an ugly snarl. "Do us all a favor, and put me down like the evil adult I am!"
Something blazed in Abby's eyes as she raised her pike, and Rachel even flinched as the girl thrust downward at lethal speeds. The end never came, however, as she opened her eyes to see the pike buried inches from her ear, tearing through several strands of her dulled, golden hair.
Abby took rabid breaths as she pulled back her pike, leveling it threateningly at the downed fugitive. "Dammit, Rachel, what is wrong with you!? You were better than Numbuh 100, better than Chad. You inspired us all to fight for what we believed in and you just threw it all away!"
Rachel sneered, fighting back tears. "I lost everything—"
"GET OVER YOURSELF!"
With strength neither present knew she had, Abby snapped her free hand down around Rachel's throat and jerked her free from underneath the table. With a roar, she swung the older girl around and let her go. Rachel crashed into the wall guarding the stage and fell to the floor in a heap. She coughed, wheezing as she struggled to lift herself as Abby stalked closer.
"Wake. Up!" Abby shouted as she slammed her heel down. It connected with Rachel's sore back, and the fugitive wailed painfully as she collapsed on the floor. Abby pressed down harder, rage simmering across her face. "You think you're the only Supreme Leader who had to sacrifice every last bit of themselves to keep people safe!?"
Rachel gasped for breath, her vision swimming as Abby's words pierced through her haze of pain and despair. The pressure on her back intensified, crushing her against the unforgiving floor as Abby's anger boiled over.
"You don't know anything about sacrifice," Abby spat out, her voice shaking with emotion. "You think you're the only one who's suffered? The only one who's had to make tough decisions? Well, newsflash, Rachel; we've all been through hell and back, but we never gave up. We never abandoned our principles, our friends, our family!"
Rachel's throat burned as she struggled to respond, to defend herself against Abby's accusations. But the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of feelings she wasn't ready to acknowledge.
"You're not a Supreme Leader anymore, Rachel," Abby continued, her tone laced with bitterness. "You lost that privilege when you betrayed us. And now, you're just another traitor, another enemy."
Tears welled up in Rachel's eyes as she listened to Abby's tirade, her heart heavy with the weight of her own failures. She had thought she was doing the right thing, thought she was saving Nigel, saving operatives who didn't know any better, saving herself.
But now, faced with Abby's righteous anger, she couldn't help but question everything she had done.
As Abby loomed over her, her expression filled with contempt, Rachel felt a surge of defiance rise within her. Despite the pain coursing through her body, despite the overwhelming sense of hopelessness, she refused to back down. She couldn't let Abby defeat her, not when there was still so much at stake.
With a desperate cry, Rachel pushed herself up from the floor, ignoring the agony shooting through her back. She met Abby's gaze head-on, her eyes blazing with determination.
"You're wrong, Abby," she rasped out. "I may have made mistakes, but I'm not a traitor. Not now, not ever. Everything—everything I've done is for the Kids Next Door, whether they want to admit it or not."
Abby spat at the girl's feet. "Threatening to sell us out really helps. Do you even know what'll happen if that evidence gets out?" She slammed her pike down, her hand motioning to all bystanders not present. "The GKND is gonna decommission the entire planet! They're gonna tear it all down! There won't be anyone left to protect kids—there won't be a Kids Next Door anymore!"
Rachel's head jerked at the new information. Her eyes darted to the side, her frame diminishing ever so slightly. It was enough to give Abby pause, to hope maybe Nigel's crazy ass was right. Maybe there was something of Numbuh Three-Sixty-Two left in there after all.
Rachel lowered her head, bangs shadowing her eyes as she said, "…good."
Abby slowly blinked as her hands started shaking. "What did you say?"
Rachel's voice was heavy with resentment as she repeated herself. "I said...good."
Abby's eyes widened in disbelief, her grip on the pike faltering for a moment as she stared at Rachel in shock. "You can't be serious," she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.
Rachel lifted her head, her gaze meeting Abby's with a haunted intensity. "I've seen what the Kids Next Door has become, Abby," she said, her voice filled with bitterness. "I've seen the secrets, the betrayal, the hypocrisy, and what it does to good kids…kids like us. Unlike you, I refuse to be a part of it any longer."
Abby's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her anger flaring anew. "You're delusional," she spat out, her voice dripping with contempt. "You think you're some kind of martyr, sacrificing everything for your twisted sense of justice. But all you're doing is tearing down everything we've fought for, everything we believe in."
Rachel shook her head, a bitter smile twisting her lips. "You just don't get it, do you, Abby? The Kids Next Door was never about real justice. It was about candy, endless recess, and stupid play pretend. The Important Ones? They don't care about ending the fighting, they just want to stay kids and keep their war games going on forever."
Abby's eyes narrowed, her anger boiling over as she raised the pike once more, her hands trembling with fury. "That's what you really think, huh?"
"I'll burn it all down if it means no one else has to suffer like I did," Rachel said. "…but you don't care what I think, do you?"
Abby scoffed. "Hell no."
"Then why are we even talking?"
Abby "tsked," leaning on her staff and glancing off to the side. She was quiet before saying, "'Cause Nigel still cares."
Rachel continued to stare at the floor, face scrunching up as she thought of the boy. "He always was stubborn."
"Tell me about it," Abby huffed. "That boy still cares. About you, the Kids Next Door, about all of whatever this is," she said, dismissively motioning to the abandoned pizzeria. A honey-pot of depravity to lure in innocent children, all eventually brought down thanks to shadow campaigns by the illustrious Kids Next Door.
Abby's eyes softened, catching her reflection in a discarded, stainless steel pizza pan. Looking back at her was an operative, an operative who made victories like this possible. An operative that could, at the end of the day, rest easy knowing some boy or girl ate pizza in true peace. "…hell, Abby must still care too, even if she doesn't know why."
Rachel was quiet, her small grunts of pain occasionally breaking her silence. Abby regarded the girl; she finally had her on the ropes. Finally had her where she wanted her.
She should end it, like she came here to do.
Abby sighed, closed her eyes, and raised the spear end of her pike toward Rachel. "Only going to offer this once: hand over the evidence and disappear. You say we took everything? Well, Numbuh 5'll let you keep your memories. She'll let you walk away and keep your regrets as company." She chuckled darkly. "Trust me, girl, it sucks."
Rachel seethed. "How generous of you. Why let me go now?"
"Because I'm tired of you hurting Numbuh 1," Abby said. Her ears picked up Rachel's quiet gasp, and Abby could only shake her head. How did things end up like this? "You wanna stop kids from suffering? Then start with him."
Rachel let herself fall to the floor. Her back pain was catching up to her, but it wasn't that that forced her down. It was the volley of emotions that assailed her at thoughts of the bald boy who shared his ginger-snap cookies with a spoiled girl like her. Rachel looked at her trembling hands, torn. "I…"
"I ain't got all night, so you better…" Abby trailed off as she opened her eyes, noticing something at her feet. Curious she bent down, a crumpled crimson envelope finding a home in her hand. Taking advantage of Rachel's internal crisis, she used her dexterous fingers to tear it open and read its contents.
Regret and doubt churned within Rachel. Mere seconds ago, she was ready to die with her convictions. Go down swinging even if it was pointless. But the mention of Nigel, the thought of following through with her ambitions… was too much.
"What is this?"
Rachel looked up to see Abby opening the red envelope. A surge of panic rose within her.
"What are you hiding…" Abby started to ask, but her question lingered, eyes widening in shock as she read the contents of the letter.
To my most esteemed Nephew,
Welcome home, champ! It's certainly been a while, hasn't it?
A little blonde birdie told me you've been out there playing in the stars this whole time, leaving your dear old Uncle to fuss and worry. The sort of trouble you've been getting yourself into…my, I can hardly stand thinking about it.
But hey, I'm not mad.
Just disappointed.
Disappointed you up and left without saying goodbye.
But let's not dwell on the past—let's look to the future! And you know what I see in your future? You running to my mansion, just like old times, cause this year I've made the most, moist, mouth-watering yummy-tastic cake EVER.
Just.
For.
You.
(Oh yeah, I also got some dirt on your space brats, but that's neither here nor there.)
So what are you waiting for? Get your tushy down here for the party of a lifetime. I know you can't resist. It'll be a delightful time.
Hugs and kisses,
Father.
PS. YOU BETTER BRING MY PIPE BACK. OR ELSE!
Rachel's mind raced as she tried to come up with a response, but the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of her shame. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a single word, Abby's expression darkened.
"...this was your whole angle, wasn't it?" Abby accused, her voice rising with fury. "All this time, you were just waiting for the right moment to stab Nigel in the back."
Rachel's eyes widened in shock, her heart sinking as she realized what Abby must be thinking. She tried to protest. "No, Abby, you don't understand—"
Her words were cut off as Abby lunged at her, her pike aimed directly at her heart. With a cry of alarm, Rachel scrambled to defend herself, her mind racing as she tried to find a way to diffuse the situation.
"You…BITCH!"
But it was too late.
Rachel found herself on the back foot, desperately trying to gain distance. When Abby made one wild, rage-infused swing, Rachel saw an opening and ducked. Abby's pike landed on the floor, and Rachel darted back to her supplies, biting against her pain.
Abby yanked the pike from the floor, tearing the boards in the process. Snarling, she leaped for Rachel, bringing her staff down in a violent arc.
Rachel spun around, shielding against the blow as she extended a rusty, battle-worn YIELD sign; the ROADSIGN class staff she wielded during her reign.
Kids Next Door: R.O.A.D.S.I.G.N.
Regulation. Operatives'. Armament. Designed. Specifically. Including. Guidance. Notifications.
Kids Next Door ROADSIGN Class Weapon: Y.I.E.L.D.
Yielding. Instrument. Enables. Lawful. Defense.
Designated Weilder: Soopreme Commander Numbuh Three-Sixty-Two.
The disbelief in Abby's eyes gave Rachel a tingle of satisfaction. She pushed the girl away, taking a breath to stabilize against the pain and recall old muscle memory as the familiar staff found home in her hold. Rachel opened her eyes, settling in on a glare. Any wish of diffusing this was long gone; there was only one way things would end tonight.
"Don't know what I expected, you never did want to listen to reason," Rachel growled as she gripped her YIELD sign. "But that's fine. Let's be nostalgic and talk."
Abby recovered and glowered at the girl. After a moment, she nodded her head, causing her shades to fall back into place. She held out her pike, clicking a button. From the blunt end, the other half of the staff popped free. The pike end seemed to get sharper, and the new end unfolded into a ONE-WAY sign.
Kids Next Door ROADSIGN Class Weapon: O.N.E-W.A.Y
Offensively. N-hanced. Emblem. – Wielded. And. Yielded.
Designated Wielder: Soopreme Commander Numbuh Five.
"Funny," Abby said as she twirled her old staff, now in its full glory. "Numbuh 5 was thinkin' the same thing."
And, at long last, the two former Supreme Leaders leaped into their final clash.