Cold Reception

by Numbuh Phenon

When a rogue operative threatens to reveal the GKND, Nigel is sent back down to stop them by any means necessary. But people have changed and the boy is tangled in a web of love and betrayal as he finds out just who he has been assigned to hunt down.

24. The Fairy Tale's End

Credits:

"Viva La Vida" – Coldplay

Cold Reception: FINAL TRANSMISSION

---

"Earth.

A class-G planet.

The only one in its locality capable of sustaining carbon-based life due to its abundance of water and atmosphere.

Home to over eight-point-seven million lifeforms, the planet's dominant species is human; of which there are approximately seven billion.

Of that number, more than three-quarters are over the age of thirteen.

In other words…

…Adults."

---

T-minus 23:34:58

I used to rule the world,

Seas would rise when I gave the word.

Now in the morning, I sleep alone.

Sweep the streets I used to own…

The sound of furious scribbling greeted Nigel upon his return, and to be honest, it was exactly what he expected to find.

Hoagie was where he had always been of late, seated at his desk meticulously pouring over endless calculations that would ultimately equate to nothing. But the boy kept at it, solely focused on an impossible task.

Nigel faintly recalled history lessons with Mrs. Thompson, back when their homeroom classes had been temporarily combined after the Spinach Inquisition (it hadn't been expected).

One lesson stood out to him in particular and he never put his finger on why.

"The tale of Sisyphus comes from Greek mythology," he remembered her explaining. It was the only day he could recall ever being so entrapped by her voice, watching her chalk glide across the board. Ever since the curse of the Weredog Queen had been lifted, she had been flush with life, warmth, and understanding. Everything, he secretly mused, a teacher should embody.

He remembered her sighing, eyes heavy with some emotion he was too young to comprehend at the time. "Sisyphus was a cunning and deceitful king who angered the gods with his actions," she continued to explain. "As punishment, he was condemned to an eternity of rolling a massive boulder up a hill in the underworld, only for it to roll back down each time he neared the top."

"I don't get it," he recalled Wally shouting out. Brash as he was, Nigel recalled the blond's brief schoolboy crush on their homeroom teacher. "Why the crud did they make him do something unpossible?"

"Impossible, Wallabee," she gently corrected. "And remember, it was a punishment; one that was repetitive, futile, and meant to symbolize the concept of endless, pointless labor."

He remembered Wally grumbling, struggling to take notes and deducing how to spell 'repetitive' with one less T. He remembered Abby 'tsking' at their blond friend, slipping copies of her notes over to him. He remembered Kuki humming, drawing cute rainbow monkeys pushing marshmallows up mountains. He painfully recalled Hoagie, brainstorming new inventions and modifications to his airplane models.

He remembered Mrs. Thompson not calling any of his friends out, only smiling softly before asking, "Any questions?"

He remembered being compelled for the first time in ages to genuinely raise his hand in school. "What is the real meaning of the story?"

"It's left up to interpretation. If you ask the new state curriculum, it'll say it's a warning why you should obey your elders or some nonsense." She rolled her eyes before leaning against her desk. "But, if you ask me, I'd say I think it's a metaphor for the human condition, illustrating the struggle and futility inherent in certain aspects of life."

All commotion and gossip stopped in the classroom after her short lecture. Some kids' jaw dropped, marveling that their teacher had dropped such a bombshell of a concept of a room of grade schoolers; some of which hadn't even mastered decimals.

"Um," Kuki was the first one to speak, "should you have told us that?"

He recalled Mrs. Thompson shrugging before giving a sad smile. "Probably not, but…if I didn't try and teach you about life, how else will you kids be able to face it?"

The lesson burned in his memory as he looked at Hoagie. His best friend since kindergarten was subjected to a never-ending hell, a pointless torture concocted by a madman to keep children docile, out of sight, and permanently in line.

"Hey Hoagie," he greeted, voice low and somber. Hoagie didn't respond, and Nigel shook his head with a bitter laugh. "How the tables have turned, huh? I'm supposed to be the one over-working myself, and you're supposed to pull me away to inspect a new contraption that happens to be a plate with two chili dogs in the break room."

Hoagie ignored him, continuing to slave away as Nigel's smile dimmed.

"I'm supposed to be the one sorting meaningless paperwork, and you're supposed to be sneaking in new Yipper comics in the files to distract me. I'm supposed to be worrying about the defense grid not operating at full capacity, and you're supposed to say we need to go on emergency patrol so you can dazzle me with those loop-de-loops that gave me thrills," he continued, his gaze lowering to the floor as guilt and shamed danced over his heart. "…I'm the one supposed to be in that chair right now. Not you. Never you."

A crumpled ball of paper bounced off his bald head. Nigel didn't flinch, only sniffled while Hoagie pressed on his flawed math.

"I'm sorry, Hoagie. I should've been there for you. All of you. You all suffered so I could keep being the hero I always dreamed of being."

Nigel's voice trembled with regret as he spoke, his words echoing hollowly in the silent room. Hoagie remained fixated on his task, the only sound being the scratching of his pencil against the paper. Nigel took a step closer, his heart heavy with despair.

"This is my fault," Nigel whispered. "I should have considered the consequences of leaving, but I was too consumed by my ambitions, my desires for greatness."

Tears welled up in Nigel's eyes as he watched Hoagie's unyielding dedication to the futile task before him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his sunglasses, a symbol of his leadership, his responsibility.

He didn't deserve them. Not anymore.

With trembling hands, he placed them gently on Hoagie's desk, a silent offering of his remorse.

"I can't undo the mistakes I've made, but I can try to make amends," Nigel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll find a way to break this curse, to free you from this. I promise, Hoagie, I won't rest until you're free."

Hoagie's eyes flickered for a brief moment, a glimmer of recognition in their depths. But still, he remained silent, his focus unbroken. Nigel bowed his head in defeat, knowing that his words may never reach his friend's ears.

"…but I'm afraid it'll be another of my empty promises," Nigel said, voice cracking as his shoulders trembled. "Another vow I can't keep. I couldn't save Rachel. I couldn't stop Abby from giving up. And…and I don't know if I can even face Kuki and Wally. They were counting on me to fix this—I promised them too, and I just ended screwing it all up."

The sound of more scribbling was the only reply.

Hoagie was gone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice barely a breath against the deafening silence of the room. "I'm sorry for failing you, for failing all of us. I should have been stronger, braver, better...but I wasn't. And now...now I don't know if I can ever make things right again."

There was no answer. Of course, there would be no answer. Because Hoagie was gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

As Nigel stood in the suffocating silence of the room, the weight of his failures pressing down on him like a heavy shroud, he found himself struggling to draw breath. Each inhale felt like a battle against an invisible force, as if the air itself had turned against him, refusing to offer solace in his moment of sorrow.

His trembling hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms as he fought to maintain his composure. But the dam of his emotions had already begun to crack, and the tears that streamed down his cheeks seemed endless, mirroring the futile task that Hoagie was relentlessly pursuing.

Amid his anguish, fragments of memories flickered through Nigel's mind like dying embers. He saw flashes of laughter shared between him and Hoagie, memories that now felt like distant echoes from a past life. How had they come to this point, where their bond had been reduced to nothing more than a silent, uncrossable chasm?

With a choked sob, Nigel sank to his knees beside Hoagie's desk, his body wracked with the weight of his grief. He reached out a hand, fingers trembling as they hovered over the papers scattered across the desk, each one a testament to Hoagie's tireless dedication and Nigel's own inadequacy.

"I wish you were here right now," he sobbed. "I don't know what to do and…and I could really use my wingman to fly me out of trouble."

As if in response, a gust of wind rattled the windows, sending a chill coursing through the room that seemed to seep into Nigel's very bones. It was as if the world itself was mourning with him, bearing witness to the depths of his despair.

Nigel looked up at his old friend one last time as he slowly got to his feet. He gingerly reached out, tenderly grasping Hoagie's shoulder. With his other hand, he wiped away his tears and slowly tore his hand away.

"Goodbye, old friend," was all he could say before slowly closing the door.

He gave the door one last sorrowful look before walking down the hall, keeping his footfall soft and easy in the early morning. If he was careful, he could slip out without bothering—

"Nigel?"

Well, so much for that.

Nigel turned halfway to face Tommy, the sleepy boy leaning out of his room with tired yet concerned eyes.

Tommy wrung his hands together before he spoke. "Where…where are you going?"

Nigel closed his eyes, lowering his head in shame. "Where I won't cause you any more trouble, Tommy."

The young boy gulped. "And…and Abby?"

"She…" Nigel started to speak but trailed off into a whimper. He inhaled sharply through his nose, fighting to retain some sense of control in front of the kid. "She went home. Don't blame her for not saying goodbye. She tried to help me and…and I don't think she has any fight left. It's all my fault."

"Oh," was the only response Tommy could come up with.

The two boys stood there, quiet in the early hours of the morning. The world still clung to the last remnants of peaceful slumber, but they were not as fortunate. They were both wide-eyed and attentive to the harsh realities of the waking world.

"You…best ought to prepare yourself, Tommy," Nigel finally said. His eyes were heavy, and couldn't lift them to meet the younger child's gaze. "I plan to keep going…too late to turn back now. But if I fail, if I can't stop Rachel—" His throat clenched as he uttered her name. He forced himself to swallow before speaking again. "Things might get bad. Do whatever you can to keep your family safe."

"You sound like you know you're gonna lose."

Nigel sighed. "I most likely will."

"Then…stay."

Nigel was taken aback by the offer.

Tommy pressed on. "I…you were—no, you are Hoagie's friend. His honorary brother. That means you're my honorary big brother too."

Nigel blinked back a new set of tears.

"Grandpa used to say don't go picking fights you can't win, so if you don't think you can win? Maybe don't fight," Tommy tried to explain, walking out of his room and taking a few steps to Nigel. "Whatever happens next, you could wait it out here with us. At least…at least neither of us would have to be alone."

Nigel's heart ached for the poor boy. He was cruelly reminded once again that everything had changed. No longer was Tommy the annoying little whelp whining and crying to sleep over in his treehouse. No, now he was a boy the world had aged too quickly, offering what little he had to someone who didn't deserve it.

"But why?" Nigel asked. "I…I let Hoagie down. I let you down."

"Because…we're kids," Tommy said, hesitantly extending his shaking hand. "And us kids…we gotta stick together right?"

Nigel felt a lump form in his throat at Tommy's words, his heart heavy with the weight of responsibility and guilt. He looked down at the outstretched hand, trembling with uncertainty and vulnerability, and felt a surge of protectiveness welling up inside him.

He had already taken enough from Tommy. He would not endanger his family with his presence any further.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and clasped Tommy's hand in his own, the contact a fragile lifeline in the darkness that threatened to engulf them both.

"I don't think I'm a kid, Tommy. Not anymore," Nigel murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you...you still are; just an innocent kid caught in the crossfire of something much bigger than you. And I can't...I won't let you suffer because of my mistakes."

Tommy's grip tightened around Nigel's hand, a silent plea for reassurance and understanding. Nigel could see the fear in the boy's eyes, the uncertainty about what the future held for them both.

"Be strong, Tommy," Nigel continued, his voice steadier now, infused with a newfound resolve. "For Hoagie, for Abby, for everyone."

Tommy's expression softened, a flicker of understanding and acceptance crossing his features. He nodded slowly as if coming to terms with Nigel's decision, though the fear still lingered in his eyes.

"I'll be okay," Nigel lied, squeezing the boy's hand gently before releasing it. "Goodbye."

After one last sorrowful look, Nigel turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway as he ventured down the stairs. He didn't look back, couldn't bear to see the pain and uncertainty written across Tommy's face.

He found himself in the garage, what was left of his belongings sat on Hoagie's old workbench. He pocketed what he could, counted up the last of the money Abby had lent to him earlier, and turned to a staff leaning against the door frame…

…Rachel's YIELD sign.

Nigel's fingers trailed across the metal, the material feeling old and dull to the touch. Part of him reprimanded himself his sentimentality; he should've left the thing in the ruins of the pizzeria. Even now, he couldn't explain why he felt compelled to salvage it.

He recalled Rachel excitedly inviting him to the Moonbase the day after she received it. It was one of the rare moments where she didn't look like the serious Supreme Leader, she looked like a happy little girl giddy and proud of her accomplishment; a true kid. She offered to let him wield it, practicing with her through some old simulations. He politely refused, claiming such an honor was reserved for Supreme Leaders only.

The memory, once fond and evoking gooey warmth, now felt bittersweet and muddled by the reality of how he finally came into temporary ownership of such a symbol. Nigel took it, strapping it to his back, determined to carry it as his scarlet letter; a testament to his complete and utter failure.

Both he and YIELD sign connected at that moment, both mourning the previous owner.

Nigel went to leave but was stopped by a nudge at his knee. He turned and offered a sad bemused smile to the pink Hoagiemobile teetering along sadly.

"Never thought I'd miss a tricycle, but first time for everything, right?" he tried to joke. He affectionately stroked the trike's handlebars. "Thank you for all your help. I can take it from here."

He moved to leave, but the trike followed along. He sighed, stopping and crossing his arms.

"No," he said firmly. "You can't come with me."

The pink trike shook, then whipped out its massive fridge-canons, oven-blasters, and dishwasher missile solos, aiming at the bald operative with a threatening growl.

Nigel did not falter. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Its bluff called, the trike slowly withdrew its weaponry and whined.

"I need you here. I need you to look after Tommy and Hoagie." He leaned down, scratching under its seat before giving it a final, proud pat. "Protect them for me."

Finally, Nigel stood and left.

The Hoagiemobile did not follow.

T-minus 21:44:22

I used to roll the dice,

Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes.

"And now for some news out of Washington," a radio cackled from its position on a workbench. "In a shocking turn of events, Senator Safely has managed to secure enough votes to reach an agreement on his proposed new child safety bill."

Nearby, Chad dabbed at his face with a wet cloth. The young man stood in the dimly lit garage, the faint smell of motor oil and rust lingering in the air. The harsh glare of the single bulb overhead cast long shadows across the cluttered space, emphasizing the worn tools scattered across the floor.

As he leaned over the hood of his old, beaten-up truck, Chad's hands moved methodically, wrench in hand, tightening bolts and adjusting components with practiced ease. Each turn of the wrench echoed through the silence of the garage, a rhythmic counterpoint to the thoughts swirling in his mind.

"If signed into law, all playground equipment would be required to be encased in giant hamster balls, ensuring no bumps, bruises, or scraped knees," the radio continued. "Furthermore, every school cafeteria would serve only gluten-free, dairy-free, nut-free, soy-free, and taste-free meals to prevent any potential allergic reactions. The President is expected to veto the bill, however, on grounds that it would potentially cut into military spending. That, and the law is boring."

He rolled his eyes. He often forgot that sometimes stupid, ignorant adults got in their own way more than any Kids Next Door operative ever would.

And there he went again, reminiscing on things that didn't concern him anymore.

"In other news," the announcer swiftly moved to another subject with practice ease, "The ever reclusive Benedict Wigglestein, CEO of Evil Adult Industries Inc, is preparing a super triple important worldwide press conference for tomorrow morning."

Chad paused his work, pushing away from the engine and glancing at the radio with a raised brow.

"Several industry analysts can only speculate what such an event will reveal, but is expected to be gihugic, as EAII stocks have been in massive flux over the past week."

The young man walked over to the radio, looking down at it with a pensive expression.

The announcer continued with faux enthusiasm befitting of their trade, "Whatever the news may be, you can expect us at Exposition Radio to keep you abreast of all the latest breaking stories—."

Chad flipped the channel to alternative rock, letting the music thump through his body as he looked at the wall with a weary look.

Along the wall of his garage were old memorabilia and knick-knacks he had yet to throw away. Mementos of a lifetime ago.

Listen as the crowd would sing,

Several medals of Supah Heroic-Awesomeness, old faded thank-you letters from injured kids he visited at the Boo-Boo Grove, defunct weapons and tokens from old missions and adult super villains that had been long forgotten, and several photos from his time in the Cadet Next Door up to the week before his thirteenth birthday.

"Now the old king is dead, long live the king!"

They all told the same story: the story of the great Numbuh Two-Seventy-Four. The hero, the myth, the living legend.

The best there ever was.

One minute, I held the key.

His hands trailed across a select few photos. One of him and Numbuh 100, the older boy celebrating Chad's sudden growth spurt with a surprise snapshot. One of him standing in the middle of Numbuh Nine and Eleven after a successful joint-sector pizza retrieval. One of him crowning a blubbering and grateful Numbuh Eighty-Six as he promoted her to Head of Decommissioning.

Years of service. Years of dedication, loyalty, and sleepless nights in Global Command. Years of seeing his good name dragged through the mud to protect his friends who would forever hate him.

Chad gently pried off two particular photos from the wall, taking tender care of their aged edges and faded colors.

Next, the walls were closed on me,

Chad looked at the two photos: one of him and new Head of Moonbase Covert Rachel, root beer mustaches gracing their smiling faces at Lime Ricky's bar. The other, him proudly shaking hands with an excited cadet Nigel Uno after a successful training run at the Arctic Base.

All that sacrifice and loss, and what had it gotten him in the end?

Resentment; that old couch-surfing freeloader he could never seem to kick out of his life.

And I discovered that my castles stand,

Chad placed the photos face down on the workbench, then blew a tuft of his bangs from his eyes as he glared at the ceiling. He pondered over the radio's announcement, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that Rachel and Nigel's journey was finally at its end.

The entirety of the Kids Next Door, as he knew it, was at its end

His hand reached out to the wall, easing towards an old, dulled colander with the engravings of 'Two', 'Seven', and 'Four'…

…and passed it over, grabbing a nearby wench that would much better suit the repairs he was making. Chad turned his back on the wall and buried himself in fixing his beaten-up truck.

Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand.

---

The air within the ship was cold and desolate, much like the dark around him. The only illumination came from the giant holo-screen before him, displaying a live feed of a planet. A familiar planet.

His home planet: Earth.

The sole spotlight of the chamber was on him. He looked to his right as a pedestal rose, presenting a glossy, glowing 2x14 booger-activation panel.

With just a pick of his nose and a jab of his finger, it would finally be over. It could finally end.

Earth would be decommissioned. Forever.

He stared at the panel through his eye-wear, thousands upon thousands of thoughts and rhetoric battling in his mind in this pivotal moment.

Some said he had no choice, it was already decided.

Some said innocent families were there on Earth. Friends.

Some would say Earth was ruled by adults, the true cause of all the suffering and strife.

He continued to stare at the panel. His lips thinned. This was something he hadn't felt in a long time. This was a feeling that hadn't ensnared his heart so tightly in years.

Hesitation.

"There." Suddenly, an enormous video screen flared to life. A strange, alien symbol filled the screen as a booming voice shook the chamber. "Do we need more proof of where this one's allegiance lies?"

His eyes narrowed at the accusation as a second screen popped on. While not quite as large as the other, it still dwarfed the tiny spotlit figures below.

The disgust in its voice was evident as it said, "Species. Indicative."

A third screen, sized somewhere between the others, chimed in. "Bah! This human noth-noth a Galactic Level Operative noth." The voice paused to laugh before adding a curt, "Noth."

Yet another screen butted in. "There ARE no human Galactic Level Operatives!"

"Uh, actually, that's not true. There was the famous–wait!" Another voice spoke, but the weird-looking alien in it gasped, realizing they were on screen and not their symbol. Numerous limbs stumbled around pressing various buttons. "Oh for the love of—I can never figure out the privacy features on these interplanetary conference calls!"

Soon, another screen appeared. Then three more. Then ten. All at once, the chamber was flooded with the chaotic symphony of alien children devolving into arguments, petty name-calling, and at least one or two remarks about a certain Beth Numbuh's intelligence because, as someone felt the need to point out, "of course, there's human Galactic Level Operatives, it's why we're all here, moron!"

The spotlit boy below ignored it all, looking up through his visor at the image of Earth, mind wandering back to the mission that led him to this point.

The mission that had quickly become his living nightmare.

---

T-minus 19:11:33

I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringin'

Roman Cavalry choirs are singin'

"In what world does, 'yeah, it looks fine' mean I think your haircut is awful, Fanny?"

"In this world, where yer a stinking boy. We all know what it means when a boy says something is just 'fine', Patton."

"You're clearly using the royal 'we', 'cause I don't have any idea what nonsense you're on about. Fine means fine!"

"You two sound like a married couple," the third occupant of the table replied. They sat outside, enjoying the morning sun in the high school's cafe. Numbuh Ten, leaned on her hand, watching the two before her fuss and squabble with a mild level of interest. A smug smirk curled up her lips. "Should I be jealous?"

"Puh-lease," Fanny scoffed, tucking what remained of her crimson curls behind her ear. She side-eyed a passing group of cheerleaders, the mass going off in a gossipy gaggle, and snorted. "Already got my hands full quashin' the rumor mill that me and him are a thing. The idjit's all yours."

Patton rolled his eyes, taking a long measured sip of water from his canteen. With a smack of his lips, he sent a dry look Fanny's way. "Gee, Fan, with friends like you, who needs enemies?"

Fanny regarded her nails with a disinterested gaze. "I tolerate yer presence, don't I? Damn lucky, is what ye are."

Numbuh Ten playfully cooed. "See? Best of pals. I knew introducing you two was a great idea. But are we shocked? Great ideas are all I have."

Patton could only chuckle. "And so humble about it, too."

"Number 1 at the top of the humble list," Numbuh Ten said with a flirtatious wink. "And you two wuv me for it."

Fanny and Patton rolled their eyes, and in synchronized harmony replied, "Of course we do, Georgette."

Numbuh Ten nodded satisfied as she went back to her journal. Conversation drifted back to the usual; Patton assuring Fanny her new femme undercut was indeed 'fine', which is the highest of praises in Patton-speak. Soon topics shifted to talks of the upcoming prep rally, Fanny's recent promotion to head of the high-school newspaper, Patton's struggles of keeping the football team from hazing new freshmen, and hey, there was a new stake rink opening tomorrow, they should all check it out.

Just totally, normal, teenager things that completely normal teenagers would talk about.

Numbuh Ten, or simply Georgette, sighed. Because she couldn't openly be 'Numbuh Ten' around Fanny and Patton. Not anymore.

Her eyes rose from her journal, possible leads and clues to new upcoming adolescent threats to kids taking a back seat as she studied her friends. Fanny was loud and brash as ever, she would do the school newspaper proud, push it away from its suspicious rise in anti-kid libel, and focus on highlighting the real issues, helping teens see the true oppressors keeping them down. Patton still cared about those his younger, his efforts instinctively drawn to making new students feel welcomed instead of ostracized and funneled into joining fringe remnants of groups like the Teen Ninjas.

Even decommissioned, Numbuh Sixty's and Numbuh Eighty-Six's hearts remained in the right place.

It was why she had to keep them together. It was why she refused to lose Patton after he turned thirteen and made her presence a constant in his life. It was why she extended a hand to Fanny when the girl had been taunted and jeered for 'childish' rainbow monkey earrings her first day as a freshman. It was why, even if they couldn't fully reclaim their past, she could ensure Patton and Fanny's friendship had a future.

Be my mirror, my sword and shield

"It's against regulation to interfere with decommissioned operatives," Maurice had warned her. He warned her before her first few awkward dates with Patton. He warned her every time she had a slumber party with Fanny. He warned her when the two now 'civilians' strangely hit it off after she just-so-happened to drag Fanny along to a movie night that was originally Georgette's and Patton's alone.

"You could get into serious trouble," Maurice warned her, concern lacing his tone, yet never doing anything to stop her. She knew the boy spoke from experience, knew he was trying to protect her. She knew he was doing what he could to keep higher-ups off her back because, despite rules and regulations, Numbuh Ten was damn good at what she did and got results. She supposed she shared that trait with her cousin.

And just like her cousin, she supposed this was her reward for trying to fly too close to the sun.

My missionaries in a foreign field

"—Georgy." Patton's voice cut through the fog of her thoughts. His hand reached for hers, and the worry glittering in his eyes shattered her heart. "You listening?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, smiling as she gripped his hand. "And I'd love to hit up the new skating rink tomorrow, but I…already made plans. Sorry."

Fanny raised a suspicious brow. "Something to do with that club yer so secretive about?"

Georgette's eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. But only for a fraction of a second. She simply smirked and tossed back her hair. "Don't worry. After tomorrow, I'll be officially 'kicked out' of that club. Plenty of free time opening up for this beauty."

Patton was quiet as he regarded her, his eyes searching hers for the truth she was keeping from him. She flashed him an award-winning smile, years of leading sector L, being undercover, and generally being the ever-so-amazing Numbuh Ten who got results were the only reason she was able to throw off his scent. Georgette would do anything to protect Patton. Anything. Even if it meant her slow death due in part to every little white lie she had to conceal with kisses and movie-night snuggles.

If there was one silver lining to the other Overseers overruling Maurice and ordering her decommissioning due to breaking the rules one too many times, it was that she would never have to live with lying to him or Fanny ever again.

For some reason, I can't explain

Patton gave a hesitant smile. "Feel like you're not telling me something, but hey, guess I can't complain about more Georgy time."

Georgette's heart broke as she pulled away, taking in both teenagers' faces.

The last memory of them she would never remember.

Fanny had an excited spark in her eyes. "Yeah! We can finally catch ye up on the Rainbow Monkey's In Love Cinematic Monkey-verse!"

Patton grumbled, "Yeah, hard pass on that!"

"Well good, 'cause I wasn't invitin' ya!"

"Well, uh, good-er! Can't stomach that overly sugary, romance-y crud any—" Patton suddenly seized up before breaking into a coughing fit.

Petty teasing was thrown to the wayside as both redheads descended upon him. Fanny worriedly used her hands to straighten. "Ah, geez, I didn't mean to work ye up!"

"Where's your emergency inhaler?" Georgette fussed, scrambling for her cell phone. "Don't worry, I have your mom on speed dial!"

"Hey, HEY! I'm fine!" When Fanny was about to go off, he shot her a pointed look. "For real! Water just went down the wrong pipe, is all. I ain't had an attack in years, calm down."

Fanny seemed somewhat appeased, backing away and trying to regain some semblance of her perceived indifference. Yet her eyes darted him over several more, concerned times before saying, "Guess ye got a point. Yer too, uh, stoopid to jus' up'n keel over anyway."

"I'll try and take that as a compliment."

Fanny's eyes suddenly looked to the sky in thought. "Hey…when was the last time ye had an asthma attack anyway?"

Both of them missed how Georgette tensed.

Once you'd gone, there was never,

"Y'know, it's the strangest thing, I'm having a hard time remembering myself," Patton said as his face scrunched in thought. "I think…you two were there? And…someone else too."

Fanny nodded, some foreign sadness she couldn't explain permeating her being. "It's like we've mentioned before, yeah? Anything before 13…it's all fuzzy…"

"…like something's missing," Patton finished. He looked up to Georgette. "It's…always been just the three of us…right?"

Never an honest word…

Georgette flattered. Years of leading sector L, being undercover, and generally being the ever-so-liar-liar-pants-on-fire Numbuh Ten could only take her so far.

"Uh," she mumbled, eyes frantically searching for a distraction. "I mean, what would make you think that…"

Georgette's voice trailed off, eyes growing to the size of saucers as she spotted someone across the street.

There, broken and battered, was Rachel T. McKenzie.

The two former leaders stood there, frozen in time as their eyes locked. The entire world faded away.

Despite Rachel's disheveled appearance, her face bruised and bloodied, her hair askew and littered with debris, her clothes burnt and torn in several places, Georgette's eyes couldn't help but harden. The red-headed teen operative slowly positioned herself between Rachel and her two friends, hand slowly trailing towards her concealed blaster.

Georgette glared Rachel down, eyes heavy with warning.

Rachel did not glare back. Her face was soft, yet unreadable as she simply stared at Numbuh Ten. Her brown eyes moved away from Numbuh Ten, her pupils slowly inching over the confused, clueless forms of Fanny and Patton one last time.

Georgette gasped. The look in Rachel's eyes…Georgette was a kid investigative reporter turned super spy. Reading people was her bread and butter. And as she read Rachel's eyes, she couldn't ignore the overwhelming 'goodbye' they cried out to her.

"Uh, what are ya lookin' at, Georgy?"

The redhead blinked. One second Rachel was there, then a bus passed, and suddenly, the girl was gone.

"…nothing," she answered, settling back into her seat. Yet, her eyes still lingered on that spot across the road. "Just thought I saw somebody I used to know."

In that one brief moment, Georgette could understand Rachel's pain. Years of service, years of unquestioning loyalty to their cause, and the only reward seemed to be the long goodbye to everything and everyone you once loved. Georgette had tried to game the system, use malicious compliance to stay true to the cause, and keep her social life intact, unlike a certain blond Supreme Leader who betrayed it all.

But as her luck ran dry, as she sat here at the end of it all, she struggled with the fact that maybe, it was all pointless. It didn't deter her. She couldn't let it.

She still planned to go through with her duty. Even if it meant never seeing them again, Georgette needed to do what needed to be done to keep kids and people like Fanny and Patton safe.

She let out a quiet sigh, finally understanding Rachel for the briefest of seconds. She wanted to reach out. She wanted to try and do something…

…but she couldn't.

Because come tomorrow, none of it would matter. Not anymore.

…And that was when I ruled the world.

T-minus 17:33:12

Nigel Uno stepped onto the bus, its doors hissing shut behind him, and the scent of worn leather and stale air enveloped him. The interior was low-lit, with only a few patches of sunlight filtering through the dark clouds and grimy windows. The bus was eerily empty, save for the driver and a solitary elderly figure hunched in the corner, their face obscured by the shadows.

With a heavy sigh, Nigel shuffled down the aisle, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet space. He chose a seat near the back, sinking into the cracked upholstery as the bus lurched forward, setting off on its journey. Leaning his head against the window, he stared out at the passing scenery, lost in thought.

It was a wicked and wild wind,
Blew down the doors to let me in.

The weight of failure hung heavy on Nigel's shoulders, each missed opportunity and wrong turn replaying in his mind like a relentless loop. The once bright-eyed leader of sector V now found himself adrift in a sea of doubt and uncertainty.

Shattered windows and the sound of drums,

As the bus rumbled on, Nigel's gaze shifted to the elderly man across from him, his weathered face etched with lines of bitterness and regret. Their eyes met briefly, sharing a silent understanding of the burdens they both carried.

Nigel went back to gazing out the window, falling into a deep dissociation as the world passed him by. Seconds turned to minutes, which turned to hours. But time lost all meaning, his vision flickering between the blurring countryside, and the faded reflection haunting him.

People couldn't believe what I'd become.

He couldn't help but think back to his reunions with all his friends. Kuki was professionally distant while Wally justifiably stonewalled him. Rachel did not coddle his whining, and Abby chose to be abrasive to his turmoil. Even sector W had been skeptical of his presence and Tommy hunted him down like a criminal, like a scoundrel in need of just punishment.

And maybe they had been right to greet him in such a way. What right did he have to a warm reception after he abandoned them for the stars?

He thought it was the right thing to do. He believed it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. The Kids Next Door needed him out there to battle the horrors of the galaxy, surely his friends would understand.

Only now, he was considering it was himself that didn't understand. He had perhaps been overzealous and ignorant.

Nigel's thoughts swirled wildly, his heart aching under the strain of his choices. The memories of his friends' disappointed faces haunted him, each expression a silent accusation against his misguided actions.

Revolutionaries wait,

He had always been the one to lead, to inspire, to fight. But now, as he sat alone on this desolate bus, he felt like nothing more than a broken vessel adrift in a vast, uncaring universe. The once clear path he had envisioned for himself now seemed obscured by a fog of doubt and regret.

He had let everyone down, that he had betrayed the trust they had placed in him. The mission, once a source of excitement and purpose, now felt like a futile endeavor, a desperate attempt to escape the consequences of his shortcomings.

For my head on a silver plate.

The bus continued its journey, the rhythm of the wheels on the pavement a steady, monotonous drone that synced with the tempo of Nigel's troubled thoughts. He closed his eyes, seeking solace in the darkness behind his lids, but found none.

For some reason, his mind drifted back to his childhood, to simpler times when the weight of the world hadn't yet rested on his shoulders. He remembered the thrill of adventure, the camaraderie of his friends, the simple joy of being a kid.

Just a puppet on a lonely string.

But those days felt like a lifetime ago now, a distant memory overshadowed by the harsh reality of the present. Nigel's chest tightened with a bitter mix of longing and remorse as he realized just how much he had lost in his pursuit of glory.

The pursuit of serving the Kids Next Door…

…it seemed that was all he had left now.

And so he sat in silence, alone with his thoughts and his regrets, as the bus carried him further and further away from everything he had ever known. At that moment, Nigel felt more lost than he had ever been before.

Oh, who would ever want to be king?

T-minus 10:56:23

The bus made several stops throughout the morning, but Nigel barely moved. Around the afternoon, he was faintly aware of a newcomer stepping onto the vehicle, the clacks of their shoes signaling their approach. Between him and the old senior, they had free reign, so he didn't entertain the anxiety of the passenger sitting next to him.

Or so he thought. He slowly reconnected with himself, brows furrowing as the footfalls came closer. He grumbled under his breath when they just so happened to stop right next to him. Any last-minute prayers for isolation were ignored as the person hopped into the empty seat to his right.

Nigel turned, curious as to why someone would bother sitting next to him. His neutral stare morphed into a soft glare as he recognized the boy.

"Figures," Nigel mumbled as he looked over Numbuh Infinity. The younger boy stared evenly ahead, eyes hidden behind those sunglasses. The diplomat's stoic air wasn't doing Nigel's mood any favors. "What could you possibly want?"

"I said I would be in touch," Infinity said, voice light and professional as always. The child patted his hands against his knees, the behavior betraying the serious demeanor he tried to display. "So, here I am: being in touch."

Nigel responded with a sharp sneer. Of all the people he didn't want to deal with right now, Infinity was certainly near the top of his list. But of course, like always, the universe didn't seem keen on giving him any sort of break. "Fishing for a progress update? Well, sorry to disappoint you, but it's going horribly," Nigel groaned, turning away to glare out the window. "Rachel's escaped, again. Abby has given up. The KNDNA Tracker is destroyed. Oh yeah, Father's in the mix now. I have no plan and am right back where I started when I landed here. Worse, actually. Satisfied?"

"I pretty much figured most of that." Infinity kept staring ahead. "Except the Father thing. That's quite the wrinkle."

"Oh, you just know everything, don't you?"

"No, but I'm pretty good at gauging the obvious," Infinity said as he dimly regarded the dingy state of the bus. "You moping around on public transportation looking like someone kicked your puppy doesn't exactly scream everything is peachy-keen."

Nigel's glare devolved into a scowl. "Then why are you here?"

"To check in. Not on the mission, but on you," Infinity answered. "I do care about my agents' mental state; shocking, I know."

"Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

Infinity rose a brow, still staring at the back of the seat in front of him. "You're entitled to believe what you wish."

That short response got a rise out of Nigel, the bald teenager reeling as he snapped on the boy. "Just who do you think you are?"

"I'm Numbuh Infinity."

"Get a load of this jackass!" Nigel shouted, jerking his thumb at the boy. "Hear to make jokes at my expense now?"

"No. I have no sense of humor I'm aware of," Infinity replied blandly. At Nigel's scoff, Infinity furrowed his brows.

The next few minutes were a tense silence. The elderly man rose from his seat and hobbled towards the front of the bus, grumbling about 'darn rowdy punks' as he re-positioned himself away from the unlikely duo. Nigel crossed his arms and sunk into his seat, pouting and kicking the seat in front of him.

Another couple of minutes passed, and Nigel's face softened ever so slightly as he peeked over to Infinity. He regarded the child warily, curious as to why it seemed like Infinity was mulling something over. Rolling his eyes, Nigel went back to staring listlessly out the window, taking solace in the fact that at least Infinity had decided to shut up.

Of course, he wasn't that lucky. Infinity began talking and, despite himself, Nigel found himself listening.

"My real name is Jerome Kingsly. Used to go by Numbuh Nine-Nine," Infinity said. Nigel did a double take, shocked at how forthcoming the boy suddenly was. Unbeknownst to Nigel, Infinity was equally surprised but did a better show at hiding it. "Doubt you've ever heard of me, was a street operative; part of Sector NYC before it eventually became the KND Super Convention Center. Way, way before your time."

Nigel's eyes slowly analyzed Infinity's form. "You're from Earth?"

Infinity glanced at his watch. "Last I checked."

Nigel narrowed his eyes. "If you're human, then my cousin would kill to know your beauty secrets."

Infinity shrugged. "Black don't crack."

"Not remotely what I meant. Just how old are you?"

"I'm a healthy twelve years young, thank you very much."

"No sense of humor he says," Nigel said bitingly under his breath. He slowly rolled his eyes before clarifying, "Okay, smartass, how long have you been twelve?"

Infinity opened his mouth, then closed it in thought. "What year is it on Earth right now?"

Nigel opened his mouth…only to close it in thought too. He blinked, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Um…"

"Ah, right. Why would you know?" Infinity mused sympathetically. He leaned his body out into the aisle, scanning for the other passenger. "Hey! Old guy! What year is it?"

The elderly man flinched, peering over the seat and frowning at the boy. "Are you for real?"

Infinity simply gestured to his utterly serious expression.

The senior cursed under his breath. "Lousy, dumb kids these days. It's 20—"

SCREEEEECH!

All three occupants yelped as they were jerked around, the bus coming to a sudden stop. Three pairs of eyes sent a conjoined glare towards the front of the bus.

The bus driver sheepishly apologized, gingerly motioning to a mother duck and her long line of cute ducklings crossing the street.

Infinity readjusted his tie and sighed. "Let's just say I had my last real birthday during Numbuh Beyond's reign and leave it at that. In the grand scheme of it all, not terribly old, but darn well near ancient in KND terms."

And just like that, it became a tad easier to date the elusive Numbuh Infinity. The further back a Supreme Leader's reign went, the more they were lost to the status of myth and legend; just take Numbuh Zero for example. But Numbuh Beyond…she was only just recent enough to not fade into complete obscurity to the modern Kids Next Door, or at least the last of Nigel's generation back in his cadet days.

He recalled the history lesson back in the academy: Numbuh Beyond was used as the basis of explaining how the game of TAG worked. Back in the early 90s, her graduation sadly lined up with the former Supreme Leader's thirteenth birthday. Once they had sworn their last cadet class in, they gave a tearful farewell, made their Global Tactical Officer 'IT' and went to their decommissioning honorably and gracefully. With a line of succession in place, the stability of Global Command was assured.

…until the Global Tactical Officer got cold feet, tagged some random Moonbase janitor, and jumped in the nearest escape pod.

Needless to say, panic ensued. It latest up until noon when a new Supreme Leader had been named: recently graduated, five-year-old cadet Numbuh Beyond.

It was pure anarchy, and not the cool kind the KND encouraged. A fresh-out-of-school cadet was the Supreme Leader? Rainbow Monkeys had better chances of being real than that working out!

But just as his dear friend Kuki proved Rainbow Monkeys were indeed real, Numbuh Beyond proved all the naysayers wrong. Despite being well within her rights to call another game of TAG, the plucky operative made the hard decision and powered through.

Numbuh Beyond's tenure as Supreme Leader was one for the books during the 90s. She fought back against the oppressiveness of standardized tests and the rise of educational tracking. She championed efforts to stop adult corporations' environmental destruction. It was thanks to her that Yipper of all things became a household name in every treehouse; she was a huge fan.

From what Nigel could recall, Numbuh Beyond spent her entire career as a Supreme Leader, all the way up until the Great Junior High Rebellion of '99. According to the lectures, Numbuh Beyond led one final charge to save a massive metropolitan school district before being labeled as 'missing'. As he rose through the ranks, he understood the gravity of being 'missing' and at least assured himself that Numbuh Beyond went out like any true Supreme Leader should; a hero.

But sitting here with Numbuh Infinity, a boy who had to have lived through such an event and seen it firsthand, Nigel had doubts. After seeing what had become of Chad, Rachel, and even Abby, Nigel began to wonder if any Supreme Leader ever truly got such an honorable end.

With all that on his mind and the living fossil sitting next to him, Nigel couldn't help but ask, "What happened?"

Infinity went quiet again, gaze wandering to the ceiling. For a brief moment, Nigel wasn't sure if he should even believe the boy. Infinity was a mystery to him, even more so when he joined the GKND. The diplomat coveted secrets like rare Halloween candy and always had some unknown angle no one could ever deduce.

He could be lying. Probably was lying. Everyone else had, so why wouldn't Infinity? Just stalling for time to cook up some make-believe sob story to manipulate him. Nigel was about two seconds away from taking back his question and telling the boy to shove it.

But then, Infinity slowly took off his sunglasses, revealing tired brown eyes. Nigel bit back a gasp at what he saw.

Damn, he thought sadly, Infinity was old.

"Stop me if you've heard this story before," Infinity started, a melancholic lilt to his voice as he spoke. "An operative who lived and breathed the Kids Next Door, rising to meteoric heights because he couldn't help but play hero. He was good at it—too good at it. It was always a game and by golly, did he play to win. Because the hero always wins, right? That's how the fairy tale goes."

Infinity's thumb brushed over his shades. "But that's the thing about fairy tales…our parents tell us the watered-down versions. They tell us the ones with happy endings to keep our dreams alive—to help us believe. That's what a parent has to do for their kids…ease them into the real fairy tales. The ones where, sure, the hero might win, but sometimes that comes with a price. Sometimes, it comes with an impossible decision."

The low rumbling of the bus speeding along the highway went on outside as the two operatives talked, one opening his mind to listen and the other embracing long-suppressed pain and memories.

"…still, my mom liked to tell me the fairy tales with happy endings. Said as long as I believed in them, maybe they really could come true." Infinity closed his eyes. "But when my dad died, I didn't want a happy ending, I just wanted answers." He opened his eyes, the brown pupils now glossy with an old lingering resentment. "He was a beat cop but he hated it. Thought he could change things, but got a reality check. We begged him to quit, and when I turned twelve, he did. It was the best day of my life…until he got into an accident."

Nigel looked away. "…I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't an accident," Infinity said, an edge entering his tone. "You're no stranger to corrupt adults, they think they can pull the wool over our eyes because we're dumb babies who don't know any better. But I did. I knew they were lying, so I used my KND training and connections to look into it. Turns out it had something to do with some evidence he found on his last patrol, something even the Kids Next Door higher-ups told me to drop. My superiors didn't like it, but I'd find the truth. Spent what should have been the last month of my career looking for it."

Infinity paused taking a calming breath. Nigel waited for him to continue, but the boy remained silent, lost in thought. Nigel coughed into his hand. "Did you find it?"

"I did," Infinity said. A small smile slowly formed, much to Nigel's shock. "And aliens."

"…what?"

"My journey for answers ended up with me hijacking an off-the-books soda transport en route to Area 51 where I found and rescued two aliens that would change the course of my life forever," Infinity recalled with a subtle fondness Nigel barely noted. "Numbuh 74.239 and Numbuh C55H72O5N4Mg, though they were barely galactic-level cadets back then. Don't think they even had a full day of training before crash landing on Earth."

Nigel held up his hands. "Wait, hold on, galactic-level cadets? We only recruit seasoned planetary-level operatives."

"And the 19th Century Kids Next Door only recruited boys," was Infinity's rebuttal. "Things can change, Numbuh 1, even the Galactic branch." He then stared at the floor, his gaze heavy with past regrets once more. "Though, you're right. We only recruit veteran planetary operatives now…you can thank me for that."

Nigel tilted his head, listening with rapt attention now.

"Numbuhs 74.239 and C55H72O5N4Mg…or 'Dave' and 'Vine' as I called them, were on a routine scouting exercise when they got shot down. They struggled to survive before eventually being caught by local authorities. Thanks to the evidence my dad had, I was able to track them down before their true origins were discovered."

Nigel curiously asked, "Which government shot them down?"

"That was the weird part: it wasn't any adult government, it was us. They were shot down by the Moonbase." Infinity narrowed his eyes. "Something didn't add up; there was no record of someone firing on a UFO, and I didn't understand what it had to do with my dad. There was some sort of cover-up. So, I went to the only person I could trust; Numbuh Beyond."

"Why?"

"Because at the time, she was the Supreme Leader," Infinity answered as he closed his eyes again. "…my Supreme Leader."

The inflection in Infinity's voice made Nigel's blood run cold.

"I went to her. Told her everything I had found, and revealed Dave and Vine to her. They didn't trust her but had grown to trust me. And I trusted Numbuh Beyond with my life," Infinity whispered. "…that was my mistake."

Nigel's seized up, nails digging into his forearms as Infinity continued talking.

"Stop me if you've heard this story before," Infinity ruminated, staring past the seat as he rolled his sunglasses between his fingers. Countless, horrible memories flashed before his mind's eye, and he knew every one with painstaking clarity. "An operative who had everything taken from them and had lost their way, a conspiracy with galactic-level attention, and a boy who had to choose between the world and the girl he crushed on—"

"Stop," Nigel hissed between clenched teeth. "Just…stop."

"I see you're familiar with this one," Infinity sighed. He gazed down at his sunglasses, prompting a staring contest between him and the boy glaring back at him. "Want to know how it ends?"

Nigel was silent, face set in a scowl as his legs started to bounce of their own accord.

"It ends with that boy…making a choice."

"…what choice did he make?"

"At the time…I made what I thought was the right one." Infinite was quiet for a minute. Then, "The Rebellion of '99? So much more was riding on that day than our fragile truce with teenagers at the time. My dad and Numbuh Beyond…it didn't matter why or what happened. In the end, the damage was done. The Important Ones were furious a global post they didn't re-authorize shot at their cadets and nearly risked dangerous technology and information falling into evil adult hands. Numbuh Vine had… 'connections', and tried to get them to see reason, but they weren't having it. They nearly invoked another code: reboot then and there."

Nigel tensed, picking at his scabs. "What did you do?"

"I figured the situation called for a little…diplomacy," Infinity said as he slowly put his sunglasses back on. "You know as well as I do that The Important Ones believe aging is a disease; most of the current Galactic Command does. We humans, however, have a unique 'genetic diversity'—the space science nerds claim that, not me—in our galaxy. In exchange for officially re-instating the Earth KND and overlooking the incident Numbuh Beyond let spiral out of control, I offered myself up to mediate and act as a secret liaison between Earth Global Command and Galactic Command. Permanently."

Nigel's eyes widened in realization. "You don't mean…"

Infinity only nodded. "You're looking at the first and only test-run at the so-called 'cure' for aging. It's a special, experimental cocktail of fresh mars-mallows, crystallized comet candy from Alpha Centauri, grape-flavored cough syrup, and two cups of sparkling water from the Fountain of Youth found under Gallagher Elementary." He paused, lowering his shades to give Nigel a pointed look. "They're still mad about you, your team, and the Delightful Children destroying the fountain, by the way."

"Sorry, we were a little preoccupied with not letting Leona de-age us out of existence," Nigel grumbled sarcastically. Infinity shrugged, returning to his neutral position. After a moment, Nigel felt a tad sheepish, softened his facial expression, and said, "That…does sound like a lot to take on, though."

"It's not all bad. So far, I haven't had to deal with puberty. Gross."

A wistful, almost longing look entered Nigel's eyes as he mused over Infinity's current state. So far, it seemed like the boy beside him had done the impossible; he had managed to stay a kid forever. "You also never have to worry about getting old. A dream come true."

"Sometimes I wonder," Infinity said slowly. "I'm eternally young, physical and mental development halted at age twelve. And all it took was for me to become a guinea pig for space nerds and be a walking, talking peace treaty between Earth and the GKND, all while making sure everyone plays nice with each other."

Nigel looked out the window in thought. "Guess that explains the whole Numbuh 'Infinity' thing. Must take an infinite amount of patience to be a diplomat for kids with short attention spans."

Even though his face remained stoic, Infinity leaned forward a bit, genuine awe entering his voice as he whispered, "Wow, that's so cool ... and a much better reason than I came up with. Can I use that?"

"Uh, sure?" Nigel said, a bit perplexed. "Then why did you rename yourself Numbuh Infinity?"

"I…I think I've dabbled in the past long enough," the younger (older?) boy said, his cheeks darkening ever so slightly. "Let's just say Numbuh Infinity emerged from that whole mess and left Numbuh Nine-Nine to fade into obscurity…along with Numbuh Beyond's tragedy."

"I've seen what happened to you, but what really became of Numbuh Beyond?"

Numbuh Infinity clasped his hands together, shaking ever so slightly as he stared down at the floor. "The academy teaches cadets that she went out a hero."

Nigel frowned sadly. "Is that the fairy tale you made up?"

"…it is," Infinity admitted quietly. "And it's the fairy tale I'll keep telling them."

The atmosphere inside the bus felt heavy as Nigel's mind churned with conflicting emotions. The story of betrayal, loss, and sacrifice resonated deeply within him.

Gee, wonder why.

He couldn't help but feel a small sense of kinship with Numbuh Infinity, recognizing the shared burden of leadership and the sacrifices made in service of the greater good. Despite their differences, they were both bound by the unyielding expectations of the Kids Next Door and the harsh realities of their world.

"Thanks for sharing, I guess," was all Nigel could say. He sighed. "Still feel like you're holding back, here and there."

Infinity's lips thinned. "I've been doing this a long time. Keeping cards close to your chest becomes a natural, learned defense mechanism you can't just turn off."

"I suppose I can understand that, especially when you have to go through it alone."

"I wasn't alone…not always," Infinity said, the faintest of light glittering off the corner of his sunglasses. "Numbuh 74.239 and Numbuh C55H72O5N4Mg…thanks to space-time dilation and the fact they age much slower than humans, they could…keep pace with me, in a way. We could pretend were were growing up together. We were…a team. Friends, at one point."

Nigel crossed his arms, glaring ahead as bitterness rose in his chest. "'At one point?'"

"You think you get the monopoly on falling out with your friends?" Infinity sighed. "I…let them both down."

Nigel looked away, pushing away thoughts of his team. "Numbuh C55…something or another—"

"Numbuh 'Vine' is fine."

"Whatever! You keep saying that name like I should know it. I don't, and have certainly never met anyone by that code numbuh."

Infinity was quiet as if choosing his next words carefully. "You…did know them, in a way."

"Will you stop being so damn coy and just tell me?"

"I wish I could but…there are some promises I'm still trying to keep."

"Oh trust me, you'll break them. Know that from plenty of hands-on experience," Nigel spat out. "Can you tell me what happened to Numbuh 74.239 or is that information some secret promise too?"

"Rules say I should've brought him in for trial, where he most likely would have been imprisoned or decommissioned and sent back to his home world," Infinity explained. "I chose to save Galactic Command the trouble, decommission him myself, and instead exile him here on Earth. To the Important Ones, he's trapped among an infected populace with no escape. To him, he gets to go on blissfully unaware of all of it and live a somewhat normal life. Everybody wins."

"And you too, eventually," Nigel snipped, more than a bit jaded. "Just have to wait for this mess to blow over and you can use that fancy recommissioning technology you have and restore his memory later. Get to have your pal back and everything."

"Galactic-level decommissioning 2x14 technology is a tad bit more on the irreversible side," Infinity revealed with a noted clip in his voice. "And recommissioning devices aren't as easy to make as you think. Your dad was the first ever operative in the entire galaxy to pioneer the technology, and the Important Ones don't see a need to advance 'primitive Earth junk' further than the small handful of one-use devices they keep locked away for planet-level emergencies, and I've already used up my allotted stock. Fresh out of luck, I'm afraid; can never see my best friend ever again. Thanks for reminding me, jerkwad." Infinity finished with a huff. He then sighed. "But…he's safe now. I can live content knowing that."

Nigel didn't apologize for his outburst but had the decency to flinch at Infinity's revelation. Silence stretched between the two wayward souls, only interrupted by the hum of the bus's engine, the driver bopping along to the sad song on the radio, and the occasional coughing of the senior citizen near the front.

Twenty minutes had passed. Nigel continued to pout out the window, just waiting for Infinity to maybe go off on another tangent. But no, the eternal diplomat just sat there, adjusting his tie and making popping noises with his lips. Nigel fumed silently, hating how Infinity was leaving him alone to process all these thoughts. All these new doubts and questions.

Finally, he could take it no more, and said, "Maybe the Important Ones are right."

Infinity stopped whatever he was doing and turned to Nigel, signaling that he was listening.

Nigel sighed, trying to put words to justify his statement. "I mean…maybe growing old is a disease. Your body starts to fail you, it gets harder to do those cool poses, and every year your back gives out just a little easier. And then…then there's the mental aspect; we all start so pure, so innocent. Then we just…degrade. Just look at ourselves: operatives like Numbuh Beyond and Numbuh 362…at one point, they would have given their lives for the Kids Next Door, for the cause. But then they got older and suddenly felt they had to throw it all away.

"And it's not just them," Nigel muttered, "Chad, Cree, even Wally…they all defected to keep holding on to something for themselves." Nigel then stared despondently ahead. "Even Numbuh 5…the best operative and friend I knew just…gave up on me." His hands tightened into his fists, a hard, aching lump forming his throat as wetness dabbed the corners of his eyes. "And then there's Kuki. Poor Kuki's going to burn out half as long, but twice as bright. She's going to get old and lose herself too."

Infinity listened in silence, his gaze distant as if lost in his memories. The weight of Nigel's words hung heavy in the air, echoing the despair that seemed to seep into every corner of their existence.

"You're not entirely wrong," Infinity finally spoke, his voice tinged with a weariness that seemed to resonate with the very essence of their shared burden. "Growing old, it's... it's a slow decay, isn't it? A gradual erosion of everything we once held dear, until all that's left is a hollow shell of who we used to be."

Nigel nodded, the ache in his chest deepening with each passing moment. "And what's the point of fighting for something if it's just going to slip away in the end? If even the strongest among us succumb to it?"

"Sometimes I wonder if it's a battle we were destined to lose from the start," Infinity said. "But then... then I think about all the lives we've touched, all the moments of joy and happiness sprinkled in amidst the chaos. And I can't help but feel a flicker of…something, no matter how faint."

Nigel's gaze met Infinity's, searching for any hint of reassurance in the depths of his weary eyes. "Then what's the answer? Is it still worth fighting for?"

Infinity offered a sad look, tinged with resignation. "I'm not going to lie, Numbuh 1…I don't know. Nothing truly lasts forever."

Nigel let out a long, bitter laugh. "Then I have my answer, don't I? Numbuh Infinity himself who gave up everything to save Earth doesn't even know if it's worth saving anymore. Doesn't get any more cut and dry than that."

The bald boy thought of everything; his treehouse, his old rainbow monkey, his team, his friends, his family, his entire childhood. He thought of all those memories and couldn't ignore the sting that followed every recollection.

It was all tainted.

"It's all infested," he said, voice low and hollow. "Too far gone…"

Infinity regarded Nigel with an unreadable expression, his features shrouded in a veil of stoicism that revealed nothing of his inner thoughts. Slowly, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a small, sleek device no bigger than a stapler that seemed to gleam faintly in the dim light of the bus.

Wordlessly, Infinity extended his hand, offering the device to Nigel.

"This," Infinity said, his voice devoid of any inflection, "is from the Important Ones. It's an EVAC."

---

Galactic 2x14: E.V.A.C

Class: Support

Rank: Level 0 Tech

Emergency. Virtual. Abandonment. Contraption.

---

Nigel's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at the device in Infinity's outstretched hand. "An EVAC?" he repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Infinity nodded solemnly. "Yes. If activated, they will come and collect you, Numbuh 1," he explained, his tone neutral. "And they will allow you to pass your final judgment on Earth. A way out, if you think it's for the best."

Nigel's heart seemed to skip a beat as he processed Infinity's words. The gravity of the situation washed over him, leaving him feeling numb and uncertain. Was this truly the end? Was he being allowed to abandon Earth, wash his hands of the struggle, and leave behind the weight of responsibility?

A surge of conflicting emotions welled up inside him, battling for dominance within the confines of his troubled mind. On one hand, a sense of duty and loyalty gnawed at his conscience, reminding him of all he had fought for, all he had sacrificed. The friends he still had left.

But on the other hand, the prospect of escape beckoned to him, promising relief from the endless cycle of despair and hopelessness he had been caught in the moment he returned to a planet he once considered home.

Infinity's gaze remained fixed on Nigel, his expression unchanged as he awaited a response. There was no hint of judgment or condemnation in his eyes, only a quiet acceptance of whatever decision Nigel would make.

For a long moment, Nigel hesitated, his mind swirling with uncertainty. But then, with a heavy sigh, he reached out and accepted the device from Infinity's hand, his fingers closing around it with a sense of resignation.

"Thank you," he murmured. "I... I'll think about it."

Infinity nodded in acknowledgment, his demeanor still as inscrutable as ever. "Not much time left."

All at once, Nigel jerked as the bus pulled to a halt. He blinked, looking out to see the sun had long disappeared, and the blank, night sky greeted him. Something also stirred within his core as he noted just how familiar the surroundings looked.

Infinity simply hopped out of his seat, turning and motioning to the aisle. "End of the line."

Ever grumpy old sour pus, the senior citizen raised his head and sneered back at the kids. "There's at least three more stops left, you dumb kid."

Infinity slowly turned to face the elderly man, his expression stoic yet the icy depths of his shades boring into the old fart with an intensity that sent shivers down the spine of everyone within earshot.

The elderly passenger's sneer faltered, his bravado crumbling. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, muttering under his breath and sinking low as he avoided any further eye contact.

Infinity's face returned to its usual impassivity as he waited for Nigel to gather himself. The galactic teen operative got up, adjusting the YIELD sign strapped to his back. He moved to the door, Infinity tailing behind like a shadow.

Nigel stepped off the bus, the cool night air assailing his exposed skin with goosebumps. The feeling intensified as he looked around, heart heavy as he finally recognized why everything was so familiar. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, this is where he was headed, but the ride with Infinity made him forget. Made him forget that he arrived on the outskirts of his old town. His old neighborhood.

His old home.

"Nigel."

The boy turned around, Infinity staring down at him from atop the bus' stairwell. The diplomat regarded him, face still betraying no emotion as he reached into his breast pocket.

"This," he said, voice calm as he passed along a futuristic-looking nasal spray bottle, "is from me. The last of my booger-teleportation serum; I'm already juiced up. Should have about...three charges left, I figure. Use it wisely, should you feel inclined."

Nigel listlessly nodded, taking the bottle and simply stuffing it in his pocket. He was about to turn and leave, but then he noticed something.

There was a twitch in Infinity's facial expression. It was enough to give Nigel pause. He stood there, Infinity trying to remain impartial but the jig was up. Nigel could read the boy like a book now. He was debating something, internally struggling with one last decision, trying to will himself to cough up one last Hail Mary despite the eleventy buhmillion regulations telling him not to, or so Nigel assumed.

After a tense moment, Infinity's face cleared. Nigel couldn't read him any more as the boy made up his mind.

"…and this," Infinity finally said as he chucked something from his pocket. "is from an old, mutual friend of ours."

Nigel grabbed the device out of mid-air. He raised a brow, holding it up to the street light trying to gauge what exactly had been given to him.

When he recognized what it was, he nearly dropped it in shock.

"T-This is a…" Nigel stuttered. "Why are you…how did you get the approval to give me this!?"

Infinity coughed into his hand. "I didn't."

"Then I don't understand. Why are you giving me a—"

He was interrupted as, underneath the device, was a small note. Curious, Nigel gently unfurled it, ignoring Infinity's sigh as he began to read.

If I know Jerome, he'll break his promise and give this to you. But why else would I be writing this? Despite my selfish feelings and wanting to hide away from it all, this is the right thing to do. And if you're reading this, it means I was right and he still believes in doing the right thing, despite how impossible the universe makes it for him.

Tell him…I'm not mad.

And I want to tell you…

I want to say that…

Darn it.

There's a million things I want to say. There's a buhmillion apologies and answers I owe you. Part of me is hoping the operative in you will understand, that a mission is a mission and it had to come first.

...but the wiser part of me is telling me that's a load of crud. Because at some point, it wasn't a mission, and it doesn't excuse how I ended it. Or how much it was wrong to lie and hurt you.

There was only one thing I said that night that I can say was true, and it's something I'm still thinking about: kids out there need you.

Five of them do, now more than ever.

I know this doesn't make up for anything…but I hope it helps.

You…

You were a wonderful experience, Nigie.

With love,

Vine.

Nigel hung his head low, the last piece of the puzzle falling into place. His face was hidden by the shadow of the streetlamp.

Infinity, not for the first time and certainly not for the last time, briefly wondered if he did the right thing.

"You were right," Nigel said, voice deep and vicious. A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him like a tidal wave. Anger, confusion, and a profound sense of betrayal warred within him, threatening to consume him whole. His hands trembled as he crumpled the letter in his fist, the words burning like acid in his mind. "I was better off not knowing who they really were."

Infinity sighed. Nigel always was a sharp one.

"Why?" Nigel spat out, his voice raw. "Why do they keep interfering with my life? Why do they care so much?"

His gaze snapped up to meet Infinity's, his eyes blazing with a fiery intensity that mirrored the firestorm raging within him. "And why come clean now of all bloody times, despite knowing the truth just makes it worse?"

Infinity regarded him with a somber expression, his features softened by a glimmer of empathy. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "the people who care about us the most are also the ones who hurt us the deepest. They may not always make the right choices, but their intentions come from a place of love."

Nigel's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw set in a stubborn line as he struggled to process Infinity's words. But deep down, he knew the truth in them, knew that Vine's actions—Lizzie's actions, however misguided, had stemmed from a place of genuine concern.

But it was too late.

Far, far too late.

"And what about you?" Nigel demanded, his voice laced with accusation. "Why do you keep pushing me, keep testing me? Why keep acting like you care!?"

Infinity was silent.

"This isn't a game anymore! It isn't make-believe, you stupid brat!" Nigel screamed. "Y-You think you have it bad? Well, you don't! You're the luckiest one of us all! You don't get to be old! You don't have to grow up! So why? Why keep pretending to help me when you know how this is all gonna end!?"

"…because you're right, Nigel. I am a stupid brat," Infinity said. "And I guess stupid brats are the only ones who still believe in fairy tales with happy endings."

The bus doors closed and just like, Numbuh Infinity was gone.

Nigel heaved as he glared at the road, festering bitterness finally boiling over as he screamed into the night. He looked down at the crumpled letter in his hand, then roared as he slammed it into the ground. He raised his foot and stomped and smashed it; grinding it with his heel until nothing but something resembling ashes were left.

He reared his leg back, set on ending his rage with a swift kick, hoping to tell the universe exactly what he thought of these fake, last-minute, futile attempts at salvation.

The wind blew, causing him to fall on his behind. All the fire whooshed out of him, and he looked up panting as the breeze carried the remnants of the letter away.

Nigel's heart thumped in his chest, and he looked down at his trembling hands, his sudden anger frightening him. Infinity's trinkets rolled off to one side, and the EVAC device to another. A splash of water against his skin made him jump, and he looked over to see the EVAC had fallen into a dirty, street puddle.

The boy looked over, the rippling waves of the puddle casting a grim reflection. In it, he didn't see the once confident, happy-go-lucky poster child for the Kids Next Door. No, what stared back at him was a dark, angry, bitter man with familiar coal-blue eyes. His fit had granted him a fatal sense of clarity as he became all too well aware of his age for the first time in years and finally realized that maybe he was not immune to disease. In his reflection, he saw what he hated the most:

An old, jaded adult.

Spirit broken, Nigel fumbled and tucked away Infinity and Vine's gifts, destined to be forgotten in his back pocket. He sniffled, picking up the EVAC, its sweet whispers of release loud in his mind. Finally, he glanced down at Rachel's YIELD sign.

With a heavy heart, he looked around, spotting an old, abandoned playground. In a trance, he walked over to his, eyes hollow as he came up to an old, decaying tree. Nigel held the ROADSIGN of his former commander in both hands, closing his eyes and pressing his face against the scarred sign.

He propped it against the old tree, backing away with stumbling steps. He simply stared at the sign, saying nothing.

You need to get your priorities straight!

Rachel had told him that once, on that fateful night many moons ago when his entire life finally fell apart.

As those words once again hung heavy in Nigel's mind, the once serene sky began to fracture. The clouds, like shards of shattered dreams, parted reluctantly, unveiling a canvas of gray despair. With each tear that fell from the heavens, it was as if the sky itself wept in unison with his tormented soul below. The rain, a bleak symphony of sorrow, descended upon the earth like a relentless lament, each drop a poignant reminder of the anguish that enveloped his being.

With a shaky stance, Nigel mustered one final, trembling salute to the YIELD sign before he walked away.

---

T-minus 09:48:12

I hear Jerusalem bells a-ring.

It was dark.

So very cold and dark.

In the void, the soul writhed, its essence fraying at the edges like delicate lace caught in a tempest. Memories flickered like dying stars, elusive and distant.

"You've been my best friend since kindergarten!"

Who was he? What were these fragments of identity scattered amidst the oppressive shadows?

Echoes of laughter, the warmth of friendship, the scent of leaves and nacho cheese—all distant whispers, drowned out by the cacophony of the abyss.

"D-Don't make me fight you Numbuh—we're friends!"

His friends, where were they? Were they just phantoms of a bygone existence, or were they still out there, just out of his reach?

"Hang on, Numbuh—I-I'll fix you! I need you. Your friends need you!"

My friends, he thought of them. Out there scared and alone. He had to keep fighting. He had to reach them. My friends…need me…

But the shadows, they were relentless, their tendrils slithering, entwining, suffocating.

"Forget." They whispered sweet nothings, seductive lies disguised as soothing murmurs. "Forget childish dreams," they hissed, their voices a resonance of deceit, "forget your futile struggles, your insignificant past. Embrace the darkness, be one with us, and find salvation in delightful oblivion."

Yet still, the soul fought, a lone warrior against an army of darkness.

Each thrust of will, each defiant cry, only seemed to fuel the encroaching void, as if his very resistance fed its insatiable hunger. The struggle was futile, a desperate dance on the precipice of despair.

"I couldn't save you. Couldn't save any of you."

Her voice cut the deepest. Her cry fueled his battle against inevitability.

"Goodbye, old friend."

That voice. That voice he thought he would never hear again. He needed him. She needed him.

His friends needed him.

The soul reached out, grasping for fragments of memories slipping through his trembling fingers, but they dissolved like smoke, leaving only emptiness in their wake. Tears of frustration mingled with the shadows, lost in the endless expanse of nothingness.

"There is no point," the shadows sang, their hisses a poisonous lullaby. "Just give up."

There was no victory here.

No triumphant return to the light.

Only the cold embrace of the abyss, its darkness swallowing him whole, consuming every last trace of who he once was.

"Give up and focus. Focus on being more…delightful."

And as the shadows whispered their final lullaby, the soul surrendered to the inevitable, fading into oblivion, a forgotten whisper in the void.

Roman Cavalry choirs a-sing.

Another report came across her desk this morning marked 'super important' but she didn't have the heart to read it.

"Okay," Kuki said on auto-pilot, wandering out of her office, walking in a dissociated daze before finding herself on the command bridge.

Her Chief of Important Allowance Savings and Finances had an idea about a rainbow monkey-themed fundraiser, but she couldn't pay attention even if she wanted to.

"Yep. We're on it," Kuki said neutrally, trying to reassure the scared operative beside her as her mind was a thousand miles away.

Two mechanics from the orbital shipyards were arguing over the last piece of taffy, and she barely remembered giving them access to her stash to appease them. Wasn't like she would be around to eat it for much longer anyway.

Her mouth hung open slightly, looking around as the chatter of a buhmillion operatives morphed into a wordless symphony of blah-blah-blah. It was nosy. It was obnoxious but still did nothing to silence the dark thoughts running through her head.

Look at them all, they depend on you, the nasty voice that sounded eerily like herself whispered as she noted a couple of kids playing whizbee in a desperate gambit to distract themselves. And you gotta look after them. Every one of them. It's what you promised her, right?

The image of Abby before her decommissioning flashed before her eyes. Did she want this for her because she believed in her? Or did she just choose her because she was finally too tired to keep going?

Oh, don't be like that. Can't think thoughts like that. That's not what a serious girl would do, is it?

She blinked at the voice, recalling a meeting with her parents and her homeroom teacher. Her father was stoically engaging with the teacher, trying to be polite while scrutinizing the classroom. Her parents found her teacher's lesson plan adequate—did they know Mr. Tushinheimer handed out extremely stressful history exams like Fourth of July hotdogs?

The teacher marveled how her parents raised a responsible, serious little girl—did the teacher count on Kuki's unresolved fear of not living up to everyone's expectations?

Kuki remembered sitting there, quiet and nodding along as the teacher gushed about how serious and mature she had become.

She remembered her father neutrally thanking the teacher and remembered her mother looking at her with a thoughtful wrinkle of her brows.

Yes, super serious. That's what you are. That's what you have to be. It's what everyone expects. Your parents need you to be serious, Mushi needs you to be serious. Abby and Nigel did too, and look what happened when you failed them.

Kuki walked to her command screens, flipping them on without even thinking. All at once, sectors from across the globe appeared, warring for her attention as she just stared dumbly at them.

See? They need you to be serious, the voice kept saying. The entire Kids Next Door expects a Supreme Leader who can take this seriously.

Her eyes trailed across the screen, going down and seeing a whole numerical alphabet of sectors and their leaders. But her eyes stayed locked on one empty screen labeled 'V'. She remembered the good times. With Nigel, Hoagie, and Abby. She thought of Wally and his adorable little pout when she teased him about his height.

Wally didn't ask for her to be serious, just herself.

Wally would probably hate how she was letting a voice inside her say mean things about herself.

But he's not here right now, is he? You gotta get serious now.

Kuki looked at her command screen, mouth slightly agape as she realized all those kids and operatives were waiting on her.

She didn't have much time left. She knew it. They knew it. Every operative knew it and she knew what they were feeling even if none of them would admit it:

They were scared.

And they should be. They deserved a serious, no-nonsense leader and what did they get?

Her decommissioning was nigh, a little over a week away. Yet so much had happened, so much was still happening, and even if they were in the dark, kids weren't dumb. Her kids were aware something major was about to go down. It was in the air. The entire Kids Next Door was on the verge of a huge paradigm shift, and most of them could do nothing about it. Soon, one way or another, things would change and life as they used to know it would be over.

Everything they used to know was coming to an end.

Kuki was about to leave whether she wanted to or know. She couldn't protect her kids directly much longer and they were terrified.

And they should be. They had to deal with you. The airhead. The ditz. The 'flirt' of sector V.

Kuki clenched her fists.

Too late for that attitude now, the voice taunted. Far, far too late, Kuki.

"Fine. Fine!" Kuki slapped her face, putting on her mask. They needed her. Her Kids Next Door needed her in the time she had left. "Look, I don't care if it's the holiday special, Numbuh 906, pause the video and find out why the Grand InQuiZitor is in Harrisburg!"

So what if she was almost out of time? She'd use every last minute left.

Big whoop if there were people who still thought she was in over her head; she'd prove them all wrong.

Her heart mourned for her 'missing' operatives, and her suffering friends, but she would steel herself and make their sacrifices mean something!

"Sector PRT, I told you I want that frat-boy riot shut down YESTERDAY!"

Look at you pretending like it matters. Like anything is going to matter soon. It's gonna fall apart because you weren't serious enough

"Moonbase, out!" Kuki forced out as she stepped away from the computers, ignoring the cries of 'come back!' and other pleas.

It DID matter. They were all counting on her to pull it off. She would—

—bump into a stressed Numbuh Fifty-Three-point-Six who somehow managed to shove an entire stack of her forgotten office paperwork into her arms while frantically tapping her watch. "Sir! I needed these promotion transfer requests signed 37.0 seconds ago!

Kuki frowned sadly. "I'm sorry, Numbuh 53.6—OW!"

A whizbee clashed against her colander helmet, causing her to drop the stack of paperwork. She glared at the offending operative.

"Hey, a little help, Numbuh 3?"

Kuki rolled her eyes. "Guys, we expanded to have three whizbee decks now for a reason." She flipped the whizbee up before chucking it back. "Please use one of them and NOT my command bridge!"

"Uh, y-yes, sir-ma'am!" the boy gulped before running to his friend. "Hey, dude, go long this time!"

Kuki grumbled, bending over to sort through the mess. "C'mon guys, seriously?"

What did you expect? They're a bunch of kids who don't know any better. Did you know any better when you signed up for this?

Under her breath, she snarled for the voice to shut up. She knew what she signed up for. She knew what she would lose. She'd lose Rainbow monkey brunches with her sister. She'd lose a few dates with Wally...

She didn't think she'd ever lose Nigel.

Lose Hoagie.

Lose Abby…

But she could handle it! She could because they believed in her to keep it all going—

"Sir!" Numbuh Fifty-Three-point-Six ran back in front of her. "What about those papers that need authorization?"

Kuki gulped, trying to swallow a lump forming in her throat. "I—"

"Numbuh 3," another girl cried. Kuki saw the fear in the little one's eyes and she wanted to hug it away. "Evil Adult Industries Inc. is gearing up for something big! Is F-F-Father back?"

The mention of that monster's name caused the dam to burst.

"Sir!" Yet another frightened boy ran up. "W-Who's gonna protect us from him when you're gone? You still haven't picked a new leader!"

"Who's gonna kiss my boo-boos?"

"I'm scared, what's gonna happen to us?"

"Why do you have to leave?"

"Can I go home early?"

Surrounded.

She was surrounded by a bunch of terrified children who had no idea what to do without her.

Demanding answers she couldn't give.

But…she could handle this!

She could!

Are you sure?

"U-Uh-huh. Okay! Don't worry, everything's gonna be…" she said, voice filling with anxiety as they just kept coming. "L-Listen, it's all gonna be—OW!"

Everyone snapped their mouths shut as Kuki fell victim to yet another whizbee.

"…a little help, Numbuh 3!"

"THAT'S IT!"

See? You're still just a no-good, airhead.

Be my mirror, my sword and shield,

The air crackled with tension as a priceless kola bear vase shattered against the wall.

All preparation for a small family gathering had halted as the Beetles matriarch and her eldest son erupted into yet another argument that had become a depressing norm over the years. A blubbering Joey had been carted away by his bumbling uncle as two blonds glared at each other from opposite sides of the living room.

Wally stood before his mother, shoulders hunched, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes, once bright with youthful exuberance, now smoldered with resentment and frustration. He could feel the weight of her gaze boring into him, accusing and suffocating.

"Why do you keep sneaking out, Wally?" His mother's voice was a tight coil of anger barely contained. "You think I don't notice? You think I don't care?"

Wally's jaw tightened, his nails digging into his palms. "It's none of your business, Mom," he spat, the words laced with defiance. "You wouldn't understand."

Her brows furrowed, a mixture of hurt and desperation clouding her features. "How could I? Ya don't talk to me anymore! I'm your mother, Wally. It is my business. I'm worried sick about you, and all you do is lie and sneak around like we don't matter. I've tried lettin' this phase run its course. I've tried to be patient! I've tried to understand but you won't let me!"

A bitter laugh escaped Wally's lips, bitter and hollow. "You don't understand anything!" he snapped, his voice rising with every word. "You don't understand what it's like to feel useless, to feel like nobody needs you!"

It had been over two days, and no word from Abby or Nigel. It had been over forty-eight hours—yes, he could count, shocker!—and Kuki just gave him empty excuses of, "Oh, I'm sure it's fine! They're busy saving the world!" She coddled him like he was still the newbie to the KND, still the brain-dead twerp of sector V.

It had taken him a few days, but he had finally figured it out. He knew what was really going on.

Nigel had either failed or succeeded and decided to brush him off without saying goodbye. He would never see the boy ever again despite all they had just been through.

Hoagie hadn't been fixed. Hoagie hadn't been saved and his best buddy was just a delightfulized zombie.

Abby had played him. Abby had played him good with her fake apologies, her saying she'd be there for him only to trick him into going home and out of her hair.

And Kuki…Kuki was trying to shield him from the truth. Like he didn't know what she was dealing with. Like he didn't know her decommissioning was right around the corner and the TND was mum on if they were gonna let her join after all this recent malarkey.

His so-called friends were all out there, struggling to hold up the world because they thought he was weak. Thought he was useless. Thought he was stupid.

And you know what? Maybe he was stupid. He would have to be stupid to think, after Nigel saving him and Abby opening up at the museum that maybe things would get better.

But no, he was wrong. Dead wrong. Because dumb ol' Numbuh 4 was always—

No.

There was no Numbuh Four anymore.

There was just dumb ol' Wally Beetles.

And dumb ol' Wally Beetles was always wrong about everything.

The Kids Next Door didn't want him.

Nigel didn't want him.

Abby didn't want him.

Soon, even Kuki would wise up and not want him.

Nobody would ever want him ever again.

His mother's eyes welled with tears, but he couldn't care. Her voice trembled with desperation but he was too far gone to hear it. "Wally, I'm here for you. You're not alone, but you have to let me in. Talk to me. Please."

But Wally shook his head, the walls around his heart fortified by years of silence and misunderstanding. "You don't get it, Mom," he whispered, the fire in his eyes flickering into a resigned sadness. "Nobody gets it. I'm just... I'm just done."

And with those words hanging heavy in the air, Wally turned away, his footsteps echoing like a final, resolute declaration of defeat.

The fighter of the once proud sector V had submitted to the cruel whims of destiny.

My missionaries in a foreign field.

"—and you just let him go alone!?"

Abby sighed into her end of the receiver. "Calm down, Maurice. That boy can handle it. He can handle anything."

She imagined if she could see him right now, she'd be greeted by the sight of Maurice ripping out his dreadlocks in frustration. "Abby this is serious! Not only is it Rachel, but it's Father. Father! He's the entire reason we made a code F category for supervillains! You of all people know what he's capable of!"

Abby flinched, memories of the Medical Boo-Boo Grove and the assault burning in her mind. "Yeah. Abby knows."

Maurice was quiet before saying. "That's not what I meant. One kid, no matter how skilled, can't do it alone. He needs his friends."

Abby sniffed. "He has them. Gonna give Kuki a call here shortly. She and Wally will have his back."

"But he needs you too."

"No, he doesn't," Abby said, head hung low, the afternoon sun burning her exposed neck. There were days she missed having a hat. "Abby's let him down enough already. She's let them all down. They don't need a screw-up like her anymore."

"That's enough!" Maurice shouted on the other end. "Stop defining yourself by your failures! You pushed through and stayed Supreme Leader despite the circumstances that put you there. You had the Moonbase up and running not even two days after Rachel's explosive exit. You were a shining example to all your operatives, encouraging them to reach heights they never dreamed of." His voice was resolute and firm as he spoke. "You were the reason those kids got out of the Grove alive that day! You inspired some of the strictest, stingiest adult bad guys around to take a look at themselves and realize they could be better! You were there when the Kids Next Door needed you, and it needs you now, more than ever, Numbuh 5."

Abby listened to Maurice's impassioned words, feeling the weight of his conviction pressing against her crumbling resolve.

But as he spoke, each accolade only reminded her of the operative she used to be before she turned thirteen.

The kid she couldn't be anymore.

"Maurice," she finally interjected, her voice heavy with resignation, "Abby…I appreciate what you're saying. I do. But you don't understand. I'm tired, Maurice. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending like it's all gonna be fine when it's not. I've lost too much, and I can't keep sacrificing myself for a cause that's already slipping through my fingers. Not when I ain't got nothing left to give."

There was a defeated finality in her tone, a surrender to the inevitability of her limitations. "Maybe I was a good leader once, but those days are over. I'm not the same Abby who could rally kids and lead them into battle without hesitation. I'm finished, Maurice. And I can't keep pretending otherwise."

She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other line. "…be very careful about your next words, Abby."

A heavy silence settled between them, suffocating in its intensity. Maurice's words echoed in her mind, a painful reminder of the expectations she could no longer meet. "I'm sorry, Maurice," she whispered, her voice strained and broken. "But Abby is getting too old for this."

And there it was. Five words no operative ever wanted to hear from a comrade.

Five words that signaled the most crushing of defeats a kid could accept.

Five words that meant that come the next morn, Numbuh Five and her memories would be no more.

Maurice was silent, processing Abby's final proclamation. His voice was heavy and aged as he asked, "…are you sure that's what you think, operative?"

"Come tomorrow, it won't matter what I think," she said as she hung up. She looked up. "Not anymore."

With those words, the weight of her decision pressed down upon her like a million tons of caramel, suffocating any lingering hope beneath its sticky embrace. The tears she had held back for so long finally spilled over, a silent testament to the shattered dreams and broken promises that lay scattered in her wake. And in that moment of painful clarity, Abby knew that there was no turning back.

Abby rose from her seat on the bench, burying her hands in her pockets as she crossed the street. Her footsteps carried her across the road, past the sidewalk, and up to a modest, yet elegant two-story house in the middle of a quaint little suburb.

Using the length of her sleeve, Abby wiped away all evidence of her tears, braced her features, and stepped through the front door.

"Well, if it isn't my sweet little daughter!" her Daddy greeted, his voice a warm security blanket over her trembling psyche. He hobbled over to her, tossing his scrubs off forgotten to gently grasp her shoulder. "With the comin', and the goin', and the returnin' home—oh, you know what I'm talkin' about!"

Abby mustered a small smile as she looked up at his wrinkled face. "Hey, daddy."

Mr. Lincoln's smile dropped, brows furrowed with worry, dad-senses going haywire as he noted his little girl looked much smaller and reserved than she should be. "Hey there, kiddo. What seems to be the trouble?"

Abby's smile twitched. "Ain't nothin' wrong, Daddy. Just tired."

"Now, you know better than to lie to your old man, young lady."

Abby dropped her mask, looking off to the side as she weaseled out from her pop's hold. She ambled over to the base of the stairs. "Just…a lot on my mind. Need to be alone for a bit."

Mr. Lincoln frowned. "You sure? Got some fresh, hot, chocolatey cocoa waitin' on ya in the kitchen. Plus a little surprise."

"…maybe later," Abby said, turning and bounding up the stairs, two strides at a time as she felt a new wave of tears threatening to spill. "I…love you, daddy."

Mr. Lincoln hobbled over to the stairs, resting his hand on the railing. He listened for the footfalls, them continuing until he heard the slam of the door. The elder Lincoln sighed, a deep part of him knowing that whenever his little Abby came out of that room, she would never be quite the same again.

"I love you too, Abigail," he said, hoping his voice could somehow reach his little girl.

Right now, he wasn't sure it would.

For some reason, I can't explain,

As Rachel sat alone on the hillside on the outskirts of the city, her thoughts echoed the bitterness and despair that had become all too familiar bedmates. But amidst the ravings of her anguish, a new realization clawed its way to the surface—a truth she had long denied, even to herself.

She had fought tirelessly to prove her worth, to cling to the roles and relationships she held dear. But in her pursuit of validation, and her desire for revenge, she had failed to recognize the value of what she already possessed.

Her family, her teammates, her purpose—they had always been there, waiting for her to embrace them fully.

Bon-Bon.

Numbuh One-Hundred.

Numbuh Two-Seventy-Four.

Each departure, each betrayal, now felt like a mirror reflecting her own shortcomings.

Fanny.

Patton.

Harvey.

Their absence, a testament to her own neglect.

And Nigel...

Nigel Uno, whose departure had shattered her world, now served as a harsh reminder of her own blindness.

The weight of her realization bore down on her like a collapsing treehouse, threatening to bury her in her own never-ending regret. She had spent so long chasing after what she believed was stolen from her, only to realize that, perhaps, she had been the one to cast it all aside.

As she stared into the horizon, the big, corporate sky-scrapper of Evil Adult Industries Inc. loomed—the shadow of Father's influence taunting her with burning, mocking irony.

I'd follow your lead anywhere.

But where had her lead taken them?

Down a path strewn with broken bonds and dreams that would never come true.

Because this wasn't a fairy tale, it was real life.

Her life.

One where there was no such thing as a happy ending.

Rachel's heart ached with loss, her hopelessness consuming her like a ravenous flame. In the cold embrace of the night, she wept for all that she had lost, for all that she had forsaken, and for the emptiness that now echoed within her soul.

Whatever horrible fate tomorrow brought, she deserved it.

I know Saint Peter won't call my name.

T-minus 05:43:21

Never an honest word …

---

"—you reek of adult!"

The arguing in the chamber continued, almost overwhelming in the absurdity of it all.

"JUST LIKE THAT ONE!"

Despite the loud yelling, taunts, and jeers, all attention was on him once more as the insult was hurled his way. He raised a brow above his visors but said nothing. Because, perhaps they had a point. He had been on Earth his whole life—the supposed ground zero for the dreaded disease of adulthood.

And despite everything he had endured, the recent mission and its results gave him a new perspective. New insight into everything.

It was quite a lot to think about.

…and hard to think about, if he was being honest. They were all still arguing and he wished they would just shut up.

"PEACE, MY GKND."

Oh, so wishes work now of all times?

"THE DECISION DOES NOT COME LIGHTLY."

A new, blinding light, perhaps even more so than that of the sun, rained down upon the chamber, silencing everyone. The chorus of voices spoke as one, in harmonious union despite the discord happening in its presence.

He felt all of its focus on him as it spoke.

"THE DECISION," he slowly intoned, "IS—"

"Don't do it!" a voice behind him pleaded in desperation. He looked back at the figure in chains, having momentarily forgotten about them. "This isn't what the Kids Next Door is about!"

"SUPPRESS!"

A massive, pillar of light descended on the outspoken prisoner, and within a flash, they had been banished.

He was alone in the chamber once more as he stared down at the console in front of him.

"THE DECISION IS—"

---

—Nigel Uno's hand trembled as he looked down at the EVAC device. The rain drenched him, yet he could not feel its chill as his body went numb. The weight in his hand was both as light as a feather, yet also the heaviest thing in the history of all of heavy-dom.

"No shame in realizing the mission is lost, INSERT OPERATIVE DESIGNATION HERE," the detached mechanical voice of the device droned after he had turned it on. "Please insert booger for DNA confirmation of EVAC Protocol Omega."

A bitter laugh escaped Nigel's lips, the sound hollow and devoid of mirth.

"Booger," he muttered, the word tasting like ashes on his tongue. It was a cruel joke, that in the face of such monumental despair, his and, by extension, Earth's fate would be sealed by something so trivial.

A bitter taste filled Nigel's mouth as he reached up to wipe away the tears that streaked his cheeks.

He knew what he had to do.

Knew that this was the end of the line.

He failed to save Hoagie.

He had already doomed Kuki and Wally with his interference.

He failed to stop Abby from giving up.

And he failed to stop Rachel from herself.

He had let them down. He had let himself down. He had succumbed to disease. He had gotten old.

He had become an adult.

With a heavy heart, he pressed his finger to his nose, extracting a small booger.

As he did, a sense of resignation washed over him, a final acknowledgment of defeat. He had fought so hard and sacrificed so much, but in the end, it had all been for nothing.

His love, his friendship, his ideals—all lost to the relentless march of time and the cruel twists of fate.

With a hollow click, the device opened a slot, ready to accept his DNA and confirm his decision to abandon his mission and leave Earth behind.

Nigel felt a surge of numbness wash over him, a numbness that matched the emptiness in his soul as he went to insert his finger.

It was finally over.

…But that was when I ruled the world.

FINAL TRANSMISSION COMPLETE

END TRANSMISSION

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"…pardon the intrusion, old bean, but…you seem to be in quite the predicament."

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