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.

26. BEGIN TRANSMISSION

Credits:

"I Believe" - Lyn Inaizumi, Shoji Meguro, Lotus Juice

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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.

A planet not worth saving.

…at least, that's what she used to believe.

A being fluttered through the hologram chamber, her viridian tendrils loose and floating, as if adrift among a breeze of nonexistent stars. Reflections of solar systems and constellations orbited around her, and she viewed them all with indifference.

Her dominant tendrils brushed and pushed against the glossy floor, her plant body ascending into a slow soar. She twirled around the flickering feeds of suns, celestial bodies, and asteroids in a sad melancholy dance, her vines encircling underneath and following her like emerald comet tails.

The alien's ascent pulled to a slow stop, her glimmering eyes from beneath her potted rebreather focused on the transparent ball of green and blue in front of her. Her indifference melted away into reverence, to awe.

And finally, regret.

Earth, by all measures of her studies, lectures, and proceedings, was a planet that should not have existed. Its survival and perseverance despite being on the inhabitable galaxy's fringe was puzzling. It was unheard of. It was astounding. It was a planet she had been enamored by, been hyper-fixated on. It was a planet of immense natural beauty and wonder she had grown to love.

But it had been tainted. It had been overran with adults the moment humans asserted their dominance. It was never meant to prosper as it had. It was never meant to even be granted a Manuel of KND, yet had by some miraculous screw-up. Yet even that didn't matter, as by higher decree, it had been diseased. It had been quarantined. Earth was a plant beyond saving.

That is what she used to believe.

But now, here self-isolated at the opposite edge of the galaxy, she couldn't help but think of the wonders of Earth she had witnessed firsthand. She couldn't but help think of her old, dearest friend who helped her find her hope as a cadet when she had none left.

(But were they still friends, despite her leaving him without saying a word?)

She couldn't help but think of that stubborn little boy. That boy who infuriated her as much as he excited her. That boy that was so damn good at playing the charming hero that he turned a surveillance mission into a whirlwind romance that would always hold a special place in her heart.

(But would he think of it as fondly, after he discovered how much she manipulated and lied to him?)

Numbuh Vine looked at the image of Earth, thinking of all the joy, the fun, the pain, the misery, the heartbreak, the tragedy, the silliness, the oddities, the pure experiences that made her question…

What did it truly mean to be Kids Next Door?

Slowly, her vines encircled the hologram of Earth, her leaves sporting an ethereal halo of protection as she closed her eyes and tilted her helmet forward.

She thought of Earth.

She thought of Dave.

She thought of Abigail.

She thought of Wally.

She thought of Kuki.

She thought of Hoagie.

She thought of Nigel.

She thought of Jerome…

She thought of all of her questions, the unknowns that lay on the other side of it all and did the only thing she could do…

Lizzie thought of them all as she prayed…

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Accessing K.N.D. Gihugic Galactic Mission Archive

Please enter Sooper Ultra Secret ADMIN Password

Code: ●●●●●●

Access Approved. Please Standby.

…Please select an Operation Report...

Sector V's Final Operation has been selected. Please confirm...

Confirmation Approved.

And now, for one last time…

Now loading:

kids next door mission…

---

It's time to…

Unveil the hype y'all been waiting for.

Henrietta Von Marzipan leaned against the old, petrified oak atop the hill of Plush Meadows Stuffed Animal Cemetery. She huffed impatiently, flickering a glance at the stars as she noted a strange twinkle.

The candy-hunter extraordinaire casually unraveled a cherry gumball before plopping it into her mouth. She chewed slowly as she glanced at her wristwatch, her foot rhythmically tapping against the roots. Henrietta blew a bubble.

It popped, and she smirked.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," she chuckled as she twirled at one of her golden pigtails. "And here I thought you were quite the sneak, Abigail." From around the corner, Abby appeared, raising a brow as she leisurely leaned against the oak beside Henrietta. The blonde snickered. "I think you are losing your touch, no?"

Abby shook her head with a chuckle. "Abby don't sneak up on friends, Heini."

Henrietta tilted her head up. "Oh? We are still friends? I was not aware of such things."

Abby grimaced, looking away ashamed. "Listen, I'm sor—"

"Oh, come now, fräulein, I merely tease," Henrietta snickered, kicking off into a full stance while flickering a finger at Abby's shirt. "When have you become such a softie?"

Abby snickered as she adjusted her red cap. "Abby's become somethin', alright."

"Something in need of my unique services, it appears."

"You got the goods?"

"'Do I have the goods' she says. Bah!" Henrietta said with a snort. She reached behind a gravestone, producing a comically large suitcase brimming with contraband. "What do you take me for? Henrietta Von Marzipan always delivers. And with the overnight shipping, to boot."

"That she does," Abby said, whistling in awe as Henrietta clicked open the briefcase. "Gotta be a whole candy store in here."

"Exploding atomic fireball pops, extra red hot cinnamon candy, the sour drops that turn your mouth inside out, super sharp peppermint bark, and much more," Henrietta listed off before closing the case. She chucked it towards Abby. "All discontinued and dangerous. Do the Kids Next Door not frown upon the use of black market confectionery?"

Abby grabbed the case and flashed a cheeky smirk. "Kids Next Door? Don't know what you're talking about, Heini."

"Yes, yes, and I have gone sugar-free," Henrietta laughed as she put up mocking finger quotes. "I am ever so curious what destruction you plan to reap with such weaponry, but I know better zan to get sticky fingers zese days."

"Thanks, girl," Abby said as she lowered her hand. She gave her old candy-hunting partner a smile that spoke volumes of gratitude. "I mean it, I know it was short notice. What do I owe you?"

Henrietta shrugged and made a turn to leave. "Meh, I'll put it on your tab."

Abby frowned, well aware of the mountains that must've been moved to get such a sweet armament. "Henrietta…"

"It is, how you always say…sharing is caring?"

Abby's frown deepened, clearly not about to let this go.

Henrietta rolled her eyes. "Fine. I have been craving a good cheeseburger. You shall treat me to one. And you shall make time for us to catch up on all your grand ventures," she added as she extended her hand. "Deal?"

"Deal," Abby said, firmly taking the girl's hand and pulling her into a hug. Abby tightened the embrace as Henrietta squirmed in surprise. "…thanks for not giving up on me."

Henrietta relaxed and returned the embrace. "You better come back in one piece, mein Liebling."

"Ol' hothead's not gonna make it easy," Abby said lightly as she pulled away. Before she could leave, she nearly tripped over herself as she noted something downhill. "Yoooo, what is that?"

Henrietta blinked, then followed Abby's gaze. She smiled deviously as she noticed the girl ogling her ride. "Oh, zat old thing?"

At the drop of the hill was a candy-coated sports bike. Its body shimmered with a glossy sheen, adorned with vibrant hues of red, blue, and yellow, reminiscent of the most delectable candies. Abby could tell at a glance that this was no ordinary motorcycle.

"Quite wúnderbar, is she not?" Henrietta smugly praised, dragging her finger against its sugary paint job. She gave the finger a slow lick and moaned at the sensational taste. "A trusty steed if there ever was one."

"I'd say so," Abby said, her voice thick with veneration as she marveled at the vehicle. Suddenly, her brows knitted into a frown. "Hey, this is experimental 2x4 tech!" She then whipped up, crossing her arms and mirroring a parent who just caught their child in the cookie chair. "Heini…"

Henrietta gasped with faux offense. "You wound me, Abigail!" she swooned, leaning back and draping her arm across her face dramatically. "I would never steal! …*COUGH*andgetcaught*COUGH*! I bought this fair and square. Now, was ze operative I bought it from within legal rights to sell it to me? Who is to say?"

The other girl dropped her scolding glare and chuckled under her breath.

"Abby won't say anything." She ignored her friend's thankful coo as she continued to analyze the bike, rubbing her chin in thought. A grin rivaling the Cheshire Cat's spread across her face. "It sure is a sweet ride…"

"Indeed it is," Henrietta agreed. Her eyes snapped open, picking up on Abby's tone. She vehemently shook her hands. "Oh, no, no, no!"

"C'mon, Heini," Abby drawled, sauntering up the girl and coiling an arm around her shoulders. "What happened to sharin'?"

Henrietta jutted out her lips and turned her head away. She peeked a glance at Abby and folded at those chocolate, puppy-dog eyes. Groaning, she fished the keys from her pockets. "Two cheeseburgers."

Abby swiped the keys and hopped onto the bike. She blew Henrietta a kiss before revving off into the night.

Henrietta frowned, cupping her hands over her mouth to shout, "AND NO PICKLES!"

It's time to…

Bring an end to the question of, "Who will win?"

"…It's us."

She loaded her last Bean Bear Buddy doll into her sawed-off barrel THUMPER before strapping it across her back.

Pellets of dry ice were blended and set to sub-zero chill in her FRAPPE cartridges before she holstered the gun to her belt.

She gave her finger-less gloves a snug stretch before clenching her fists in anticipation.

Her weighted, emerald green fireproof poncho was draped across her shoulders, and she didn't flinch despite its heft.

She tightened the elastic bands atop her head to keep her twin, dark buns secured.

She adjusted her dark, puffy pants and kicked the heels of her combat shoes against the deck.

And finally, she clipped on her neon pink rainbow monkey earring for good luck.

Kuki bounced on her heels, face serious and set as her blood began to flow. Closing her eyes, she slapped her cheeks as she strutted forth towards her moon drop pod. She moved at a brisk pace through her private bunker, mind blanking as she prepared to dive into hell.

Her eyes snapped open, taking glances at photos framing the walls. Cherished moments and memories, from her induction ceremony after her short-lived TAG game. The ice-cream after-party from Patrick's promotion to Head of Decommissioning and Sonia becoming sector W's new leader. Satellite images of Saturn's ring RAMON had shaped into a rainbow monkey outline for her twelfth birthday. Even one of her all dressed to the nines with Joaquin in her hand, the old hamster sporting a bow tie as they officially opened the new Hamster Liaison and Union Center.

Every photo distilled a single moment in time from her reign, reminding her of good times, and bad. Reminding her of the laughs she and her kids had, and all those operatives that fell to ensure they got to keep laughing freely.

Kuki Sanban remembered all the pleasures and pains of being the Soopreme Leaduh of the Kids Next Door. She remembered her oath to safeguard all kids' dreams of a brighter tomorrow. Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered all the kids who laid down their lives and would never see that dream come true.

She stopped at a window offering a one-way view into Moonbase Zero. Kuki watched as operatives below worked, played, and kept it all going with nothing duct tape, recycled cardboard, and the power of countless silent birthday wishes. Her hand pressed against the glass, the tears threatening to fall as her eyes glistened.

She saw her Chief of Important Allowances Savings and Finances giving an inspiring PowerPoint presentation about her fundraiser idea to raise money to buy toys for every impoverished child during the holidays.

She watched as Numbuh Fifty-Three-point-Six bumped into two mechanics from the shipyard, all three tumbling over in a messy heap of paperwork. Instead of arguing, one mechanic helped the girl up while the other began sorting through the scattered reports.

Kuki stalled her tears, her palm rolling into a fist. So many kids suffered and died for this dream, and she would fight to keep it alive until her very last breath.

With a hop, Kuki descended into her moon drop pod, latches clamping her shoes into place. She reached out her arm with an open hand, firmly grasping her ROADSIGN as it shot up from the ground below. Red lights flared above, steam hissed around her, and klaxon alarms wailed as the pod began to enclose around her.

As mechanisms sealed her in and the "FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT" sign blinked on, Kuki caught sight of one last photo from the small window of her pod. A group photo she had coerced her new teammates into taking her first day after being transferred into sector V.

In it, Nigel, Hoagie, and Abby smiled. Wally even worked up a smirk (after being elbowed by Abby). And in the forefront was her grinning face, carefree and proud despite holding the camera upside down.

Kuki flashed a brilliant smile as she rocketed towards the Earth below.

I used to have this bad feeling…

This premonition of falling short.

The gas station mini-mart at the corner of 4444 Quartet Street was nothing more than a roaring ball of flame. The odor of gasoline tainted the air as the shaken employees sat at the curb, wrapped in blankets as they gave their statements to the patrol officers.

"So let me get this straight. You were both outside, and the building just exploded without warning?"

The two girls nodded as they shared the blanket's support. "Uh, yeah, that's right."

"Why weren't you working your shift inside?"

The two girls blushed, one with flushed lips and the other with traces of lipstick on hers. "We were…taking out the garbage."

The cop's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Taking out the garbage?" At their frantic nodding, he rolled his eyes. "So I guess that means you didn't see anything off?"

"No, but just ask Parker," one girl said, pointing at the mid-thirty-looking manager on the ambulance stretcher. "He says he saw it."

"It?"

"It came out of nowhere, man!" the man leaped up, startling the First Responder taking his vitals. A haunted look shadowed his expression as he rocked back and forth. "It was a golden streak of fury! Rebellion given physical form! It was terrifying, angry…and it was so short!"

The cop looked over his shoulder at the sketch artist. The guy shrugged. The cop sighed as he leaned against the stretcher. "That's, uh, not a lot to go on, sir."

"It kept screaming about how it was gonna make its 'Father' pay for tearing down its house, or something?"

"Can you tell me what this thing looked like?"

"I don't know, man." The manager reached down to pick up a dented shovel. "It hit me with this shovel and everything got all fuzzy."

Across the street, Wally was set in a stoically menacing stance. The tower of fire before him had dark shadows dancing across his face, and his expression didn't falter...didn't buckle under the residual heat.

Ashes flickered on the shoulders of his pleather jacket, and the boy kept staring ahead as he brushed them off. He stopped, slowly lowering his gloved hand and staring at it. Carefully, he removed it, eyes glossed over as an ugly, burn scar glared back at him.

As he looked back up at the burning gas station, Wally's gaze was a thousand miles away. He wasn't back in his old neighborhood anymore. He was back in the Medical Boo-Boo Grove all those years ago.

Back then, the flames licked at the wooden structure of the KND-ran hospital, casting eerie shadows against the night sky, he could feel the heat searing his skin. The cries of children trapped inside juxtaposed against Father's insane laughter echoed in his ears, a spine-chilling song of fear and desperation.

Those kids were scared. Those kids were terrified and needed a hero, but all they had was him. In the present moment, Wally trembled as he stared at his scar; reminded of his desperation. His fear. His weakness.

Those kids needed a hero, and he was all they got.

But he recalled ignoring the blistering pain that shot through his hand as he reached out, as he gripped the burning timber, splinters digging into his flesh. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he pulled, muscles straining against the weight of the collapsing structure. Embers danced around him, painting the air with fiery hues, but his focus remained unwavering, his only thought was the safety of those trapped within.

Those kids needed a hero, so he had to step up since no one else was gonna.

Finally, with a deafening crash, the last of the burning beams gave way, and he stumbled backward, clutching his injured hand to his chest. As he watched the children emerge from the smoldering wreckage, their tear-streaked faces illuminated by the flickering flames, a wave of relief washed over him.

Wally growled as the memory faded away.

Now, in this moment, as he stood in the outskirts of fire once again, his hand throbbing with agony, he realized something, what was the word…profound?

The scar that would forever mar his skin was not a mark of weakness, but a badge of honor—a reminder of his bravery in the face of danger, and his unwavering determination to protect those in need. His stubborn refusal to back down when the cruel world demanded he kneel.

From that day forward, whenever doubt threatened to creep into his mind, he would look at his scarred hand and remember: when the going gets tough, the tough get going.

And boy was he tough.

Wally chucked the glove away, using his hands as a picture frame to remember the wreckage of the gas station, one small testament to Father's hateful spite. He smirked, burning the image in his brain. He had plenty more where that came from.

He picked up an old unearthed bag of equipment and sprinted down the street. Once again kids were in trouble. Once again his friends required a hero.

And even if he wasn't a hero, Wally was confident that he was more than enough.

Now I have no fear,

Since we're here…

The calm quiet of a well-to-do neighborhood was broken with youthful abandon as a giant, metallic DOH-DOH mech-walker barreled onward to a battle to end all battles. Until the next one, at any rate. It kicked up a torrent of rubble and asphalt in its wake, giving not a single care to the property damage it caused as the three children seated on its head looked ahead.

Lee held his trapper hat against the wind, his other hand steadying himself in the cramped cockpit. Squinting against the furious breeze, Lee fought to open one eye to glimpse at Patrick. "Can't this thing go any faster?"

From the pilot's chair, Patrick's brow furrowed in concentration as his hands fiddled with various levers, dials, and other cool-sounding do-hickeys. "Let's see you drive and do better!"

Lee grumbled. "Still say we shoulda taken a SCAMPER."

From the other side of the boat turned cockpit, Sonia shook her head. "Negative, Numbuh 84. Can't risk KND Air-Control catching wind of what we're up to." At her tone, the boy relented with a shrug. Sonia then looked to the horizon, eyes narrowing in determination. "Father doesn't get to hurt anyone else. This ends tonight."

Patrick made a sound of surprise as he tapped at his radar screen. "Got an unidentified bogey on our six!"

Lee leaned back, whipping out a pair of glass bottle scopes to scan their rear. "It's Tommy."

As if summoned, the Tommymobile tore through a picket fence as it drifted alongside the DOH-DOH. Sector W looked down to see its driver catching their gaze, his cape fluttering in the wind.

"Steel yourselves, loyal sidekicks," Tommy proclaimed. He raised a fist into the air, wrangling the mysterious night's fury to fuel his kid-driven crusade against tyranny. "For tonight, we reap mighty vengeance and sow the seeds of dark justice!"

Sonia kicked off of the DOH-DOH, flipping mid-air as she went into a dive towards Tommy. The boy-wonder steered to the side, paving the way for his friend to expertly land in his back passenger seat. She smiled as she gripped his shoulder. "Glad to have you with us, The Tommy."

"More so than you realize. Behold!" With an over-dramatic push of a button, a side panel of the Tommymobile opened revealing numerous tech goodies buried inside. "The Tommy has taken it upon himself to overclock and super-charge your meager 2x4 gadgets—by a bazillion fold! While still sorely lacking in comparison to his own mega awesome arsenal of incorruptibility, The Tommy is confident these tools will help bring about the fall of Father's fascist fist-hold."

From above, Patrick rolled his head in confusion. "That was a lot of words, dude."

Lee piqued in with a chuckle. "Tommy brought us new toys to kick Father's butt with."

Patrick groaned. "Well, why didn't he just say that?"

"The mighty mouth of righteousness needs a robust vocabulary," Tommy replied. Suddenly, he grabbed Sonia's arm. "Sonia, take the wheel!"

"W-Wha?" Sonia gasped, barely recovering in time. The Tommymobile veered off to the side, the girl chipping the paint of a parked jalopy before regaining control. She looked behind her to see Tommy perched on the bike's flag. "Aren't you coming?"

"Don't worry, The Tommy shall aid in the final battle. But the cogs of justice must be set in motion," he said, swishing his cape and wiggling his fingers. Righteously, of course. "Valiant as the Kids Next Door are, their approach to such a cad is outdated. It is time The Tommy updated its firmware, to bring a swift end to Father's malevolent malware once and for all!"

"Hey!" Patrick snapped. "It ain't gonna mean squat if you use your dirty tricks!"

Tommy bristled at the accusation. "They're not dirty tricks, they're super cool stratagems! Of justice!"

"Whatever! We're Kids Next Door, so we'll take him down like Kids Next Door!"

"And we will," Sonia interrupted. Her brows furrowed with determination as she smiled back at Tommy. "Do what you gotta do, Tommy. I trust you."

Tommy sniffled, touched by her faith in him, before hastily covering it up with a cough. "A-And your trust shall be rewarded, Son—I mean, Numbuh 83."

Without warning, Tommy pulled back on the flag, it bending before slinging him up towards the DOH-DOH. Patrick and Lee looked curious as Tommy landed on its back and produced a small disc nestled between his thumb and index finger.

"And here is an advance," Tommy shouted as he attached the device to the DOH-DOH. It beeped before comically expanding into a giant rocket booster. The boy shot a devious grin towards his two friends. "I suggest you hold on to your butts."

Lee paled and Patrick began waving his arms in a panic. "WAIT A MINUTE!"

But it was too late. The booster roared to life and Lee and Patrick screamed as they were propelled forward at breakneck speeds. At the last second, Tommy black-flipped off the DOH-DOH, intending to make a cool, three-point landing on the road. However, the backdraft whipped him off course, and he went crashing into an azalea bush.

Sonia gave the vigilante a two-fingered salute as she zipped past him. Her foot kicked the Tommymobile's pedal, and she leaned forward as she noted sector V's treehouse on the distant horizon. "I hope we're not too late."

Azalea petals ruffled as Tommy's head popped out, the boy hacking up a mouth full of flowers. He awkwardly adjusted his fedora as he looked in the opposite direction from where his companions had gone. A good dozen miles away, he saw the illuminating city lights and his gaze settled on one building in particular.

"The die is cast!" He shouted triumphantly as he raised a finger.

That same finger was then shoved up his nose.

Not terribly far away, deep within sector V's treehouse, something was stirring.

A hunched figure stood hunched over a workbench, and sparks of a grinder reflected off the figure's protective eyewear. He put it down, one hand holding his craft in place while the other reached for a wrench. He twirled it between his deft fingers before cranking away.

The massive hanger was a whir with activity for the first time in years.

Above, the lights flickered out and the power died with a low hum. The treehouse's emergency hamster energy reserves ran dry. The lad was undeterred, continuing to adjust his invention even in the dark. Once he finished, he chucked the wrench away, it whistling as it sailed through the air.

With a clank, the wrench bounced off a switch of a newly built generator. The gizmo spluttered as it began fueling a large, clunker of a bus-turned-aircraft nearby.

Satisfied, the young lad stood, using both arms to carry his creation towards the bus. He lumbered, stumbling under its weight, but groaned as he hefted it up and slammed it into the engine compartment. He leaned in, grumbling as static zapped his fingertips. But his frustrations would pay off as the last installment slotted in like a fresh pig in a blanket. He smirked as he dusted off his hands.

Looks like it was time for takeoff.

The boy wandered over towards his old sleeping quarters, hopping up to grab an old, aviator cap and a pair of flight goggles with new lenses.

The makeshift generator coughed and smoked, and the boy paused as it exploded. He blinked, then shrugged as he picked up an ungodly amount of newly renovated 2x4 technology. He threw it into the back of the bus, and spread his arms out, indulging in a childish desire to make airplane noises as he meandered towards the pilot's seat.

With a laugh, he nestled his big butt into the seat, beaming at how the leather seemed to cry "oh, I missed you too!" as he sunk into it. Excitement coursed through his systems as he flipped up knobs, turned dials, and adjusted the lean to his old sweet spot.

It had been too long.

Ding!

The teen licked his lips as he eyed the toaster oven in the center dashboard. He reached over, his fingers gently coiling around a warm bun as the intoxicating scent of fresh Frankfurter and piping hot chili con carne caressed his nose.

Oh, it had been far too long!

The bus roared to life as clear night skies called to him at the end of the runway. He paused, seeing a folded photo clipped to his steering wheel. His other hand went to unfurl it, and he sniffed at the sight of a younger him plus four other kids smiling back at him.

Hoagie clipped the photo to the sun visor and finished the chili dog in one bite.

…to fight it together.

It had been over three years since Nigel last saw the Delightful Manor. Dozens of memories lay beyond its outer gates; not a single one of them was pleasant.

It had been where he lost his hair, changing the course of his life forever.

It had been where his most hated enemies, the worst of the worst, resided.

It had been where he and his old team had way too many close calls, perhaps too young to fully grasp how close they truly tangoed with death.

Not a single good memory lingered in this place. Some of them were downright traumatic. Just standing on the edge of the property had his nerves frayed, his posture rigid, and that panicky, ten-year-old inside him screaming that enemies and dangers lurked in every corner, ready to maim and murder him in the most vile, gruesome manners imaginable.

…Maybe Numbuh RN8 had a point about therapy. He should probably look into that once he got out of there.

If he got out of there.

That grim voice repeated that fatal possibility ad nauseam the closer he walked to the front gate.

Nigel stopped at the curb, frowning as he studied the looming mansion in the distance. He quickly accessed the outer perimeter and the walls. Even though it had been years, he could never forget this place. The property had expanded, encroaching on the rest of the neighborhood like a slow-spreading infection. Where there had once been one or two modest houses in the mansion's shadow, only Father's property stood, a shining beacon of his all-consuming greed.

Hoarding real estate; as if Nigel couldn't hate him enough already.

The wind blew and his body quaked under its chill. He looked down at his crimson shirt; a gift from Kuki when he first returned. He had put it through the gauntlet, the sleeves torn, holes cut through it, and now still damp from the rain earlier. Reluctantly, he peeled it off, shivering as the wind assailed his bare skin.

He quickly reached into his carrier, pulling out the last of his clothes, a simple black tank top. He pulled out the last of his Galactic 2x14 tools, stowed them in various nooks and crannies of his body, and stuffed his wet shirt inside.

Nigel paused, tenderly picking up his dad's red overshirt. The last remnant of Monty's unknown fatherly love. The boy closed his eyes, hugging the article of clothing like a security blanket. He took the sleeves, fastening and tying them around his neck and sporting the shirt as a makeshift cape, a noble symbol of his parents to carry him down this road until he met its end.

After taking a deep breath, Nigel bent low, ready to scale the outer wall of the property to sneak his way in.

"Ahem."

The boy snarled, snapping his PENCIL laser and aiming the sights at the butler who just appeared.

If Jenkins was worried about the laser dot aimed at the center of his forehead, he did a bang-up job of not showing it. He held out his hand. "Your invitation?"

Nigel growled, flicking the setting of the PENCIL from 'stun' to 'ouch!'

Jenkins did not flinch. "I insist."

After a tense few seconds, Nigel slowly lowered his weapon, eyes rolling towards the sky as he dug around in his pocket. He spared one last look at the invitation—the invitation Rachel didn't want him to find but he did anyway—then glared at the aging assistant and slapped it in his palm.

Jenkins didn't react as he uncrumpled the red letter, eyes slowly checking its contents for authenticity. He nodded, then with a snap of fingers, the letter poofed into cinders as Jenkins clapped his hands.

Nigel stiffened. The gates behind the butler slowly opened on their own. There was no switch, no mechanism attached to them; they simply just moved without a hint of outside effort. Soon, they bared the way forward to him, and cautionary instinct was shouting at him to run. Run far, far away.

He swallowed his fear and entered.

"Welcome home, young master."

SLAM!

Nigel spun on his heel, eyes wide as the gates locked shut and Jenkins was nowhere to be seen.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he turned again to see a massive army of heavily armored Ice Cream Men swarming him. A literal legion of dumb muscle workers who only sold ice cream to "responsible adults" at the whim of their master.

Nigel wasn't surprised, always knowing Father had a massive stake in the Tasty Taste Ice Cream Company if he hadn't already bought it outright in the years he had been in space. No, what had Nigel concerned and on high alert with the small platoon of well-dressed businessmen and women standing at the forefront.

The boy sneered. "The Board of Executives."

The one in the front, most likely the spokesperson, extended his hand. "A pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Uno."

If there was a hierarchy of slimy, deplorable adult scum of the earth, the Evil Adult Industries Inc. Board of Executives was seconded by only Father himself. While the fiery bane to children worldwide was busy with his schemes of domination and pastime hobby of destroying the Kids Next Door, the Board of Executives ran the larger goings on of the company in his absence (but still all to Father's design, of course.) They were Father's elite task force, plotting shadow campaigns against youth of today, influencing politicians, and green-lighting all sorts of torturous ways to make children miserable.

Nigel had only one encounter with their number during the joint-every-sector raid to destroy the "Asparagross" Refinery many years ago. Though in hindsight, they got lucky the guy was new. Like, "Do you even know what you're doing?"-new. In fact, Nigel briefly remembered the guy running away, hiding in a portable toilet, and then being knocked away by a stray mustard blast.

He briefly wondered about whatever happened to that loser. He hoped the guy didn't have kid relatives. Can you imagine? Calling a coward like that your uncle? Now that would be super embarrassing.

That train of thought aside, Nigel doubted he would be as lucky with this lot. They looked more seasoned. More vicious. He glared at the adult's outstretched hand and spat on it.

"…cute," the man curtly said. He wiped the saliva off with a handkerchief before snapping his fingers. "Let's get this over with. This is holding up my meeting to lobby Congress to eliminate nap time for kindergartners."

Preparing for the worst, Nigel lowered into a defensive stance, ready to fight his way through. To his surprise, the sea of Ice Cream Men parted, and from in the distance, almost stretching a mile of the newly established property, a large red carpet rolled down the walkway and stopped at Nigel's feet.

The Board of Executives encircled Nigel and motioned him forward. While he lowered his fists, he did not lower his guard as he walked. They followed him like a sick honor guard, marching in disturbing sync with his cadence. They stared on ahead, saying nothing. The silence deeply unsettled him.

After what felt like hours of walking, Nigel grimly looked up to see the mansion's entryway. Like the gates, the doors were blown open by some unknown force. The Board of Executives rearranged their formation, making it so that he had no choice but the walk up the stairs to his certain doom.

The spokesperson smiled. "Please, enjoy yourself."

Nigel sneered at the man as he entered Father's home.

Just as he anticipated, the door slammed shut behind him, the loud click of the lock implying he wouldn't get to leave that easily. What Nigel didn't expect was for the interior to be so dark. His eyes squinted in the dark, trying to suss out what Father could be planning.

"Surprise!"

Nigel was blinded by the assault of lights. He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, trying to make sense of the unexpected turn of events. Confetti stuck to his skin and clothes, and the sound of party streamers unfurling echoed through the grand hall.

As his vision cleared, Nigel found himself standing amid a lavish ballroom, the opulent décor a stark contrast to the grim exterior of Father's mansion. The room was adorned with extravagant chandeliers, ornate paintings, and marble statues. A long banquet table stretched across one end of the hall, laden with delicacies and refreshments fit for royalty.

And there, at the center of it all, was him.

Sitting at the top of the table, amidst the colors and dazzling lights of the surprise party, was Father himself, clad in his signature black suit and wearing a wide, sinister grin.

And a party hat.

"Well, I'll be an operative's uncle," Father said with a slap of his knee before standing. "If it isn't Nigel Uno in the flesh! How the heck have ya been, champ?"

Father blew a party horn, the sound grating on Nigel's ears. The boy's nostrils flared as the man practically skipped over to him. As if this were all some sick game.

"My, my, my, how time flies. When I last saw you, you were no higher than my knee. Now look at you; a teenager," Father exclaimed, hands going to his hip as he studied the boy. He wagged a finger and gave a playful wink. "Better watch out, those snot-nosed play pals of yours might try and decommission ya!"

While Father chuckled at his joke, Nigel's eyes slowly scanned his surroundings, analyzing for traps, for weapons…for Rachel. When he saw nothing but more festive crud, he grit his teeth and snarled, "What's going on here?"

Father wiped away a tear. "And here I thought you were Captain of the Obvious Club. It's a welcome home party, ya dingus." He pointed to the ceiling, then faltered. He fumbled around for a remote. "Oops, forgot something."

Nigel arched a brow as Father aimed the remote to the ceiling, watching a large "Welcome Home!" banner unfurl from the rafters.

"Pardon me for being a bit out of sorts. You're technically early and the help's still putting some finishing touches on a few things," Father said, eyes filling with mirth. "Ah, but I know you, sport. Always so punctual. Besides, I'm excited too! And what's a party without a little pre-game, eh?"

Father popped open a liter of root beer before pouring it into two, ice-filled champagne glasses. He took one and handed the other to Nigel. With a wink, he clinked their glasses together, and in a sing-song tone said, "Someone's finally of legal soda-drinking age."

Nigel dryly stared at his glass.

"Lighten up, champ! I broke out the vintage. Just for you."

Nigel glared at Father as he emptied the contents on the carpet.

Father put his glass to his lips and took a mild sip. "Well, that was rude."

"Enough!" Nigel shouted, throwing the glass. It shattered against the wall and Nigel took a purposeful step forward. "Where is she?"

Father closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "And now he's got girls on his mind…they grow up so fast."

"I'm not playing your games, Father," Nigel hissed as he whipped out his PENCIL. Its setting changed from 'Ouch!' to 'Vaporize'. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't start blasting."

Father took another slow, languid slip of his root beer. He 'ahhed' satisfyingly before smugly leaning down to Nigel. "Rachel T. McKenzie."

Nigel's eyes went wild as his finger trembled against the trigger.

"And there it is," Father chuckled, using a finger to push Nigel's laser weapon down. "We both know if it wasn't for her, you'd run in guns blazing. Heck, back in the old days, you would've come in shooting anyway. Ya learned some restraint there, bud. Proud of you," Father cooed before his expression darkened. "And boy-howdy does that restraint got your knickers in a twist. You won't shoot at me. You can't because you're ever so worried about where I have your little girlfriend tucked away."

Nigel's entire frame trembled with barely contained fury as his imagination ran wild with what Father must have done with Rachel. "She's…she's not my girlfriend."

"Yeah, and denial's not only a river in Egypt," Father sassed. He leaned back against the banquet table, one hand steadying himself and the other swirling the ice around in his glass. "Ah, but don't fret. As long as she's a good little girl, I won't harm a hair on her sweet head. Why would I harm my greatest asset since…ah, what was that brat's name? Cree something or another?"

Nigel snorted at his dismissive tone. "Because you're insane."

"Sticks and stones," Father hummed, a smirk playing across his face. With a flourish, he brought the glass to his lips again, savoring the effervescence of the beverage as it tickled his palate.

As he drank, Father's gaze drifted lazily to the magnificent chandelier overhead, its crystals refracting the dim light of the grand hall. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a burst of flame from his fingertips, directing it toward the base of the glass in his grip.

"Anywho, I'm quite surprised you care, all things considered." The heat of Father's power caused the glass to shimmer and warp, its edges softening and melding together as the root beer within bubbled and steamed. With a wicked grin, Father applied more infernal heat, coaxing the glass into a molten state. "What with her being a traitor and what-have-you."

Once the glass had melted to his satisfaction, Father lowered his hand, the flames subsiding as he focused on the amorphous mass before him. With a steady hand and a malevolent gleam in his eyes, he began to shape the molten glass with deft movements of his fingers.

"The once illustrious Numbuh 362, crawling to my doorstep begging for help. And what sort of adult would I be if I turned my back on a precious child in need?"

As if guided by some dark sorcery, the form of Rachel McKenzie began to take shape within the glowing mass. Nigel growled as Father sculpted her likeness with meticulous precision, capturing every detail of her appearance—the curve of her smile, the glint of mischief in her eyes, the defiant tilt of her chin.

"'Oh, please use your company resources to broadcast my evidence.' 'I'd be ever so honored if you exposed the Kids Next Door for the sham it is,'" Father mocked, his voice matching Rachel's exact tone and inflection down to the last syllable. "'I'd love nothing more than to get back at Nigel Uno and make him suffer.'"

Nigel seethed. "T-That's not true."

Father gave a look that screamed "Oh really?" as his free hand pulled out his remote and aimed it to the ceiling again.

A large, flat screen descended from on high, and Nigel gasped as footage of Rachel and Father appeared.

"I have nothing to admit," the image of Rachel spat out. Her eyes burned with anger and hurt as she spoke. "I didn't miss him. How could I miss someone like him? He's still a spoiled little child who thinks the world will wait for him."

Despite the situation, the image of Rachel spewing those words made Nigel recoil as if struck.

"He's still that uppity little punk that thinks he can get away with insulting my authority," the recording continued to degrade him. All in High Definition, too. "But why should I be surprised? I never did anything about it, not once! I let him get away with everything. I let him walk all over me like the doormat I was."

Her words ate away at Nigel.

Father continued sculpting his little arts and crafts project as he fast-forwarded a bit.

"I didn't miss him! He abandoned his post! He ran away from his duty! He left everything behind," the recording of Rachel screamed, and Nigel was too focused to notice how Father was cheekily cranking up the volume. Her hate-filled cry reverberated in his ears as her distraught expression tore him in two. "He left ME!"

Nigel's world seemed to spin as the recording echoed Rachel's words, each accusation striking him like a SPLANKER blow. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, and a cold sweat broke out across his brow as he struggled to process the torrent of emotions crashing over him.

The image of Rachel seemed to glare at him with accusation, her words ringing in his ears like a relentless mantra. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, the hurt and betrayal etched into every line of her face.

"She... she hated me," Nigel whispered.

Father's smug smirk widened as he watched Nigel's distress unfold before him. He reveled in the turmoil, relished in the pure anguish.

"Oh, my poor boy," Father purred, his tone dripping with malicious satisfaction. "It seems your dear Rachel had quite a lot to say about you, didn't she? All those pent-up frustrations and resentments just waiting to spill out."

Nigel's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. His mind raced with memories of his interactions with Rachel, each moment now tainted by the poison of her words.

"I... I never realized..." Nigel muttered, his voice thick with self-doubt and regret.

Father chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Oh, Nigel, my dear boy, you've finally seen the truth, haven't you? You were so consumed by your own self-importance that you failed to see the pain you caused others." He shrugged. "But what can you expect of children who don't know any better?"

Nigel's chest constricted with guilt, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he struggled to reconcile the image of himself with the reality laid bare before him. He had prided himself on his dedication to the Kids Next Door, but now, faced with Rachel's accusations, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been nothing more than a selfish, oblivious child.

With a final flourish, Father completed his creation, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The figure of Rachel McKenzie stood before him, frozen in glass, a perfect replica of the young operative who had dared to thwart his plans time and time again.

My, how the tables have turned, he thought.

Satisfied with his work, Father nodded in approval before gesturing toward the cooling glass. With a wave of his hand, he commanded the molten material to solidify, locking Rachel's likeness in place for all eternity.

As the glass cooled and hardened, Father's smirk widened into a triumphant grin, knowing that even in this frozen state, Rachel McKenzie would forever be under his control.

But as his eyes returned to Nigel, the boy on the verge of breaking, he was reminded of the real prize.

"Ah, don't feel bad, son," Father said, each word oozing with condescension. "We all have that one that got away. But hey, at least now you can cut your losses."

Nigel barely heard him, the recording of Rachel's words repeating in his mind on a loop. When had she said all that? Did it matter when she said it? The emotion, the pain in her voice was real. Realer than anything he had heard in a while. He had come here because he refused to give up on her, but hadn't he already all those years ago? Intentionally or not, he had left without a word, leaving her and so many others to pick up the pieces.

He thought of her question and how he never gave her an answer. Did he even deserve the right to answer it now?

Perhaps it was too late after all.

His hand swayed, brushing against the Book of KND in his back pocket…

…Our story? No matter how it ends?

His eyes widened as memories swirled in his mind.

"I don't share my cookies with anyone, you know."

"You're such a doofus."

"Well, this doofus got a laugh out of you, didn't he?"

"You know it's against the rules to use PENPAL calls when you're no longer a cadet, Numbuh 1."

"Puh-lease, like anyone cares. Besides, could say the same to you, hmm?"

"…my first official order is for you to report to the Moonbase for a cookie break."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"At ease, soldier."

"…just a bit jittery, sir. Glad to see you're safe and sound."

"Same to you, soldier."

"I know you will, Supreme Leader, sir."

"I'm going to miss working with you in the field, soldier."

"You think some promotion is going to keep me out of your hair?"

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a pinky promise."

"I think I'm quite lucky to be 'it' when it means I get to be with you," Rachel said, her voice soft yet filled with sincerity.

Time seemed to stand still as they shared that moment. There were no supervillains. No broccoli, no Ridiculous Barrier separating them by lightyears. No traitors. No divided loyalties. No burdens or rank to hold them back.

In that instant, Nigel knew that he never wanted it to end, that he wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as he possibly could. He couldn't help but smile. "I think I could play this game of tag with you forever."

Rachel's eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned in, her lips brushing against Nigel's ear as she whispered, "Then you better be prepared to chase me for a lifetime."

I wouldn't change it for the world.

As he recalled his memories, recalled Rachel's story, Nigel growled, swinging his arm to cut through Father's lies and manipulation.

"No."

Father seemed confused.

"You're wrong," Nigel said, standing straighter and taking a step forward. "You're wrong. I can't believe I almost fell for your twisted little scheme. But it won't work on me, Father. Not now, not ever again!"

Father blinked, holding up the remote. "Did we not watch the same thing?"

"Like I should trust your editing reel, you hack!" Nigel snapped. The boy blinked, a little off-put by how hurt Father seemed to be about him trashing his editing skills, but Nigel shook it off and continued. "I'm not perfect, but I can make an effort to be better! I still care, and deep down, I know Rachel still does too."

"Oh, give me a break," Father said, exasperated. He held up his little replica of Rachel. "After everything she's done, after how she hurt you and your friends (if you can call 'em that anymore), you still think she's worth all the fuss?"

Nigel glared. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, considering no one cares about you."

"Yeowch," Father said, tugging his silhouette collar. He gave the glass sculpture a deadpan stare. Well, that was a waste of time. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Enough about her. Wasn't even about her anyway!" Father dropped the statue and crushed it under his heel. "No, all this?" He said gesturing to the ballroom. "This is all about you."

Father's demeanor shifted, his eyes gleaming with a light so sinister, Nigel was ashamed to admit it caused him to take a cautious step back.

"When you absconded to the stars, you left me with quite a lot to think about," he regaled. "And over the years, it made me realize something: it isn't about making children miserable for the heck of it, there has to be a reason. It isn't about destroying the Kids Next Door, they'll destroy themselves eventually. No, when you left, it left a big ol' hole in my heart because, at the end of the day, I forgot what it's really all about… Family." Despite the darkness of his suit, Nigel could feel his smile. "And you, my dear boy, are family. Gosh, I'm the only real family you have left."

The cruel reminder of his parents' decommissioned stung, but Nigel didn't give the man the satisfaction.

"And in this household, we appreciate our family, darn it," Father scolded with an exaggerated stomp as he pointed to the floor. "So, I took a long look in the mirror and said, 'Father, that boy is just acting out. It's your job to man up and show him he belongs. Give the whole gentle parenting thing a try!' And you know what? That's exactly what I went and did."

He motioned to extravagant decorations, snacks, and treats. "So, this is all for you, champ! Drink some soda! Have some cake! Get down and get funky," he said as he turned on the party music and started to do a jig. "Let me show you how much I appreciate you! And when we've had our fill and are all fun-ed out? We can sit down and have a nice. Long. Talk."

Nigel spun around as Father disappeared and promptly reappeared at his side, his hand patting his shoulder.

"We can talk, adult to adult. Uncle to nephew—no," Father paused dramatically before leaning in dangerously close. "Father to Son."

The notion of Father claiming him as family after all this time sent a shiver of disgust through Nigel's entire being, his skin prickling with revulsion at the thought.

"I already have a father." Nigel's heart pounded with resentment and anger. Father's false gestures of affection would not sway him, nor would he allow himself to be drawn into the web of manipulation that he so skillfully spun. "And you will never be him."

"I think we're having a breakdown of communication here." Father tensed, smoke beginning to rise from his hand. "This is me trying to be nice."

"And you're doing such a good job of it, too."

"Ah, I almost missed that snippy attitude of yours," Father quipped. His expression began to harden. "The nerve. You make a fool out of me, run away from home, and when I go through all this trouble to ignore all that and make you feel welcome, this is how you repay me?"

Nigel said nothing as he slapped Father's hand away.

"You see, Nigel, my boy," Father began, his tone laced with a faux sense of paternal concern, "family is everything. It's the cornerstone of society, the bedrock upon which all else is built. And as the head of this family, it falls upon ME to ensure that every member knows their place."

Nigel's jaw clenched at Father's words, a shiver running down his spine as he sensed the hidden menace behind the facade of worry.

"You think this is all just a game, don't you?" Father continued, his voice growing more impassioned with each word. "But let me tell you something, son. In this family, there are rules. And those who dare to defy them must face the consequences."

Nigel's fists tightened at his sides, his gaze never wavering from Father's imposing figure.

"You may think you can just disobey me, Nigel Uno," Father declared, his voice rising to a crescendo, "but mark my words, you will come to understand the true meaning of family. It's not about hugs and kisses—it's about respect, it's about listening to your elders, it's about doing what you're told. I'm the adult here," Father leaned in, eyes sparkling with cruel intent, "and only I know what's best for dissident whelps like you."

Father's words hung heavy in the air, the weight of their implications settling over Nigel like a suffocating blanket. But despite the intimidation tactics, Nigel stood tall. "Are you finished?"

"…I suppose I am," Father said with a long, drawn-out sigh. He removed his party hat and clucked his tongue while shaking his head. "I'm so disappointed with you. Was hoping you'd matured enough to accept I'm right and just ease into this next part…but I guess I can only expect so much from delinquents like you."

Nigel rolled his eyes, body coiling in anticipation. "You're not fooling anyone; you've been itching for an excuse the moment I arrived."

"Ha! Guilty." Father peeled back a layer of his suit to peek at his wristwatch. "Hmm, we've got some time to horse around before the festivities begin, so no use putting off the inevitable. But before we get down to business…" Flames crackled around him as he extended his hand. "Give me back my pipe."

Nigel tilted his head. "Your…pipe?"

"Yes. My pipe."

"…wait, the one from the scavenger hunt?"

"No, the one you got me for Christmas—WHAT OTHER ONE WOULD I BE TALKING ABOUT?" Father shouted, fire exploding around him mirroring his outburst. "Return what you stole from me. NOW!"

Nigel scoffed. "I don't have it."

The fire around Father snuffed out with a wimpy fizzle as he appeared floored. "You…you don't have it?"

"I threw that thing out the airlock with the rest of my garbage the first chance I got."

"…didn't even keep it as a trophy?"

"Why in the world would I hold on to anything that reminded me of you?"

"B-Because it was a symbol!" Father spluttered. "The emblem of your defiance. Your last show at sticking it to the man—to me. It was the catalyst for EVERYTHING!"

Nigel's jaw dropped. "You did all of this over some stupid pipe?"

"IT WAS MORE THAN JUST A STUPID PIPE! IT WAS—ah, forget it," Father waved off, slumping as he walked off to the side. "The nuance would be lost on an idiot like you anyway."

The boy's eyes stayed glued to the adult, wondering what his angle was now. Father just continued to grumble, going over to a desk and fumbling around in one of the drawers. Just when matters couldn't get any more absurd, Nigel nearly fell over in bewilderment as Father simply pulled out a package containing another pipe.

"Lousy brat. Making me wait for nothing," the man grumbled as he tossed the box aside. With practiced ease, he packed the bowl with pipe tobacco and used his thumb as a lighter. Smoke wafted from the pipe, and his posture relaxed ever so slightly as he took a few puffs.

"Don't start smoking, son. It's a heck of a habit to kick." Father paused, glancing at his pipe as he realized the irony. He shrugged. "Do as I say, not as I do, and all that."

For his part, Nigel could only look in with disbelief. All the pain and suffering he caused. All the misery and lives cut short because Nigel took his pipe, causing the man to snap. All that chaos and destruction reaped because of some lousy pipe and all this time he just had another…

The sharp, explosive volley of contempt for the man in front of him did not cause Nigel to bristle. No, it only made him deflated under the sheer weight of the truth that was always in front of him. "You truly are pathetic.

Father mimed with his hand and in a squeaky, irritating voice said, "I know you are, but what am I?"

"A homicidal, narcissistic, pyro-wielding sociopath."

"Funny, that's the same thing my therapist said," Father mused as he tapped his chin in contemplation. "Wanna hear what happened to him? He was FIRED—oop!" Father paused mid-fireball. He raised his hand to his face in a gesture of disbelief, his palm meeting his forehead with a soft thud as he shook his head in mock astonishment. "There I go getting ahead of myself. Nearly forgot to turn the oven off!"

Nigel stood there gobsmacked as Father lowered his flames. Was he being for real?

"Would you be a pal and wait right there for me? Feel free to have a snack," Father said, gesturing to the table before returning and ambling for the kitchen. "I'll be back in just a jiffy—"

But Nigel was done waiting. When Father turned and left himself open, Nigel's jet boots roared to life as he surged forward. He reared back his left leg, gearing up for a rocket-fueled kick, aiming to knock to man's block off right then and there.

Just as his boot was about to crash into Father's temple, an ebony tendril sprouted from Father's shoulder and coiled around Nigel's heel.

"I honestly can't believe you fell for that."

Nigel let loose an agonizing scream as the tendril seared his leg. It slammed him to the ground, again and again as Father simply stood there, arms crossed. The man peeked over his shoulder, watching as his tendril whipped Nigel back and forth before tossing him to the other side of the ballroom. After the boy landed, Father chuckled, stretching his arms and wiggling his fingers as he got to work.

Scorching rays flew from Father's fingertips and Nigel dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack, the intense heat singing his clothes. Quick to retaliate, Nigel rolled into a crouch and fired a series of laser blasts from his PENCIL.

Father merely laughed, erecting a fiery shield. The blasts were deflected with a sizzling hiss, and the adult clasped his hands behind his back before he began calmly walking forth to close the distance between them.

Sensing an opportunity, Nigel employed his acrobatic skills to leap onto the table and grab the open liter of root beer in one swift move. He hurled the liter over Father and shot it with his blaster, the soda raining over the adult to hopefully douse his shield. The boy began shuffling down the length of the table, using his feet to kick various dishes and plates towards his adversary.

Father chuckled darkly as the root beer cascaded over him, fizzling against his shield and sending steam plumes into the air. With a flick of his wrist, he dispersed the shield, revealing his smirking face behind the dissipating mist.

"You think a little soda can stop me, boy?" Father taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. As Nigel continued his assault, sending dishes and treats flying towards him, Father simply waved his hand, summoning streams of flames that engulfed the projectiles mid-air, turning them to ash before they could reach him.

Undeterred, Nigel leaped off the table and darted towards Father, his mind racing with strategies to outwit the pyro-wielding villain. With a swift movement, he grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher and aimed it at Father, releasing a blast of foam in an attempt to smother his flames.

But Father was ready for him. With a wicked grin, he channeled a fiery blue energy beam into the foam, causing it to evaporate on contact and sizzle away into nothingness. Nigel's eyes widened in disbelief as his makeshift weapon proved ineffective against Father's apparent upgraded power.

The adult chuckled as he dusted off his knuckles. "And they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks."

Growling, Nigel wielded the empty extinguisher, swinging it as an improvised bat. Father dodged around every strike, easily weaving and ducking without breaking a sweat. His eyes narrowed, and his fist struck out, catching the metal casing and crushing it before tossing it away.

Nigel hopped back, taking out his laser again and firing wildly at the man. Father raised a single index finger, coating it in flame as he used it to repel each shot with effortless ease.

"Now this takes me back," the man reminisced casually. "How about some witty back-and-forth banter? For old times' sake?"

Nigel roared as he continued to pelt Father with blasts.

"…okay, not sure where to go with that, but hey, you do you." Father flicked away one final beam and paused to point at Nigel's weapon of choice. "Nifty pen, by the way."

Seeing a chance, Nigel swept his leg under Father, the man yelping as he went prone on the ground. Nigel somersaulted over him, overcharging his blast mid-air. It crackled and chirped as he landed, and he held it with both hands as it unleashed a furious, emerald green ray straight for Father's head. "It's a PENCIL!"

Father narrowed his eyes, concentrated beams of heat shooting from his pupils as they collided with the PENCIL beam in a clash. Slowly, Father's heat vision began to overtake the beam, forcing it back. Nigel couldn't react in time to stop the feedback loop, and the PENCIL exploded in his hand. Nigel cried as he went to his knees, clenching his injured hand to his chest as he hissed.

"And now, it's trash," Father said with a wink before he seemingly melted into the floor.

Cautiously, Nigel got to his feet. Head on a swivel, he checked every corner of the room, looking for where Father had slithered off to. He paused, noticing the shadow underneath him darkening. With wide eyes, he skirted away just as a plume of fire shot up from the ground.

Nigel's heart raced as he narrowly avoided being engulfed by the sudden eruption of flames, rolling to safety just in time. He scrambled to his feet, his mind racing as he tried to anticipate Father's next move.

But Father was one step ahead, materializing from the flames with a wicked grin on his face. "Not bad, sport." he chuckled, his eyes gleaming with malice. "But I'm barely getting warmed up!."

Father summoned a swirling vortex of fire around him, the flames dancing and crackling with deadly intent. Nigel watched in horror as the inferno grew larger and larger, threatening to consume everything in its path. The operative gritted his teeth, feeling the heat of the flames licking at his heels as he scrambled for cover behind a nearby overturned table. His heart pounded in his chest as he frantically searched for a way to turn the tide of the battle.

With sweat beading on his brow, Nigel's mind raced through his options. He needed to find a weakness, a vulnerability in Father's seemingly impenetrable wall of fire. As the flames surged around him, he spotted a glimmer of hope—a fire suppression system mounted on the wall nearby. A risky move, but hey, risky moves were his bread and butter.

Nigel kicked up onto his feet, dodging and weaving through the swirling inferno, his every movement calculated and precise. With a swift leap, he reached the control panel for the suppression system and slammed his fist down on the activation button.

A deafening roar filled the air as jets of water erupted from the sprinklers above, cascading down in a torrential downpour that doused the flames and enveloped the room in a thick mist. Nigel gasped for breath, feeling the cool water soak through his clothes and soothe his burning skin.

For a moment, there was silence—a brief respite from the chaos that had consumed them. But it was short-lived, as Father's laughter echoed through the mist, cutting through the air like a knife.

"Aw, what's the matter?" Father sneered, blue flames licking at his suit. "Can't take the heat?"

Nigel growled. "Do you ever shut up!?"

"And give you the satisfaction?" With a wave of his hand, the residual steam rose and coiled around his left arm. Father wound it back, then punched it forward, shooting a blast of condensed hot air. Nigel braced himself but was knocked on his back as the heat skin ravaged and reddened his skin. Father shook his head.

On the ground, Nigel propped himself on his elbows, wincing as he struggled to open his eyes. A shadow enveloped him, and he glared up to see Father sending him a look oozing with pity.

"This is almost sad," Father clucked. "You lose your mojo up in space? I expected you to at least put up somewhat of a fight. What's the matter?"

"I…" Nigel managed out, mind working overtime.

He would never admit it in front of him, but Father had a point; he was totally wiping the floor with him! Sure, Father had some fancy schmancy upgrade to his arsenal (which was unfair, by the way), but even still, he shouldn't be giving him this much trouble. What in the world was so different? He couldn't remember ever being on the ropes alone with Father before—

And suddenly, his expression fell, heart giving a painful lurch as he hit it right on the money. He couldn't remember having this much trouble against Father alone…

…because before, he never did face Father alone.

Nigel worked himself into a seating position, head lowered as he closed his eyes in shame. "…I always had a team to back me up."

"Aw, that's rough buddy," Father placated, going to his knees to pat the boy on the head. "But that's the thing about friends, they just always let you down. That's why I never bothered with 'em. Got by just dandy with me, myself, and I…hey!" Father shot up as a light bulb went off. "That gives me an idea!"

Father's entire body began to vibrate, and Nigel watched in horror as his image began to split. First, there were two. Then, three. After a moment, he began to panic as he was surrounded by six multiples of the same pyromaniac.

"You're right, Nigel. Teamwork makes the dream work," Father laughed, his copies applauding his joke. He bowed, then gave a smug look down at the boy. "How can I lose with these handsome devils?"

One of the clones waved his hand, all bashful. "Oh, stop."

"But hey, since I got ya at a bit of an unfair advantage, I'll toss ya bone," Father offered, standing to the side and motioning to what remained of the banquet table. "Last chance to throw in the towel and just accept what's coming to you. I prepared quite the spread for you! …well, I outsourced most of it to my caterer, but the dessert is all me."

Nigel got to his feet, clutching his arm as he looked for some sort of way out. With no escape route in sight, he grimly set his face as his hand quietly moved towards his pocket. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll skip dinner."

Father crossed his arms. "Oh? Got some hidden ace up your sleeve?"

"Just taking a page from your book," Nigel said, popping open a veil and flinging at Father. "Time to fight fire with fire!"

Father looked unimpressed as a sickly green ball of snot was flicked on his chest. "Oh no, a booger. My dry-cleaner is wetting himself as we speak."

"Not a booger," Nigel amended with a dark grin, "a BOOGER-MITE."

"You say that like I'm supposed to know what it—huh?" Father gasped as he noticed the booger spreading over him. The gelatinous mass seemed to come alive as it covered him with an otherworldly sheen. He tried to wipe it off, his movements becoming more frantic as the substance stuck to his hands and began crawling up his forearm. "WHAT IS THIS?"

"Outlawed 2x14 technology," Nigel confidently explained, standing straighter as the other Father copies took cautious steps back as the prime put up futile struggles against the parasite. "They infiltrate and disable you…from the inside-out."

Father's eyes widened, his expression twisting into one of shock and horror as he realized what was happening. He tried to struggle against the encroaching mass, but it was no use—the BOOGER-MITE was relentless, its tendrils penetrating deep into his every pore.

"Despite my superiors' faults, they at least never tested it against organics. The scientists were a bit squeamish as they theorized what could happen," Nigel said, eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction as he watched the source of so much torment convulsed and writhed in front of him. "Oh, but I'm sure you'll be just fine. I mean, you're the 'adult' here, right?"

As the seconds passed, Father's struggles grew weaker and weaker, his body gradually succumbing to the Boogermite's invasive control. Nigel could only watch in grim silence as his nemesis was encased entirely, his once-powerful form reduced to a mere puppet of the nanotechnology's will.

The copies were paralyzed with shock. One held his mouth, quickly opening a nearby window to blow chunks.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the writhing mass of BOOGER-MITE ceased its movements, leaving behind only a motionless husk where Father once stood.

Nigel approached cautiously, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had done. But as he looked down at the inert form of his former enemy, a sense of grim satisfaction washed over him. Father may have been a formidable foe, but now he was nothing more than a shell that would never harm anyone ever again. The guilt he had of using the last of the awful technology he confiscated from Numbuh Seventy-Four-point-Two-Three-Nine was overshadowed by the relief of a monster being put down.

The relief provided a second wind as he turned to the copies. He was confident he could take them out if he was careful, with or without the BOOGER-MITE husk's help. From what he recalled all these years ago from Rachel's game of TAG while possessing all of Father's powers, one good solid blow would take each of them out.

He was suddenly jolted back to attention by a low, ominous rumbling. His heart skipped a beat as he spun around to face the source of the disturbance.

To his shock and horror, the inert husk of Father's body began to tremble and quake, cracks forming along its surface as if something was trying to break free from within. Nigel's eyes widened in disbelief as he watched the husk glow red, the cracks widening with each passing moment.

And then, with a deafening blast, the husk exploded in a blinding burst of light and heat, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Nigel shielded his eyes against the glare, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to comprehend what was happening.

As the smoke cleared, Nigel's eyes widened in horror as he saw Father standing before him once again, his form wreathed in flames as he sniffled.

"And now I have a cold, thanks," Father grumbled, voice muffled as his sinuses were clogged. He extended his hand, and one of his copies provided a tissue. He blew his nose, making a sound of disgust as he looked down at the yellow, sickly mucus remains of the BOOGER-MITE. He clenched his fist, burning the last of it away. "That was highly unpleasant."

Nigel took a fearful step back. That had been his last resort. He had thrown every bit of Galactic Level technology he had left against Father and it amounted to absolutely nothing. He went into this thinking Father having a few screws loose would just make him a bit more unhinged, a tad more wild. Surely, it would be nothing worse than what he had encountered before.

But no, that's not what happened at all. Father hadn't degraded with age…he had evolved.

Nigel miscalculated and now the whole world was going to pay for it.

"I-It's impossible," he said breathlessly, face paling. "I-I won. It was over. You were infected!"

"Now, you know better than to go counting your chickens before they hatch, boy," Father said sternly. He then began to levitate, the air cracking and sparking around him. "And you know what they say about a virus; sometimes you just gotta SMOKE IT OUT!"

Father opened his mouth, releasing a cloud of black smog down upon Nigel. The boy was caught in the center of the smokescreen, eyes watering and lungs burning with every inhale. Nigel stumbled back and forth, coughing up a storm as he tried and failed to get a sense of his surroundings.

"I think the poor boy's out of sorts, fellas."

BAP!

Nigel grunted as something struck his side.

"Yeah, he's not looking too good."

TWHACK!

Nigel's face stung as an unseen backhand sent him reeling.

"Should've listened to you when you told him no smoking, Father."

BAP!

"You are so right, Father. Kids these days never listen."

BAM!

"They never learn."

CRACK!

"Always making us resort to tough love."

SMACK!

"Oh? I think we're losing him, boys."

Nigel collapsed to the ground, knees and one arm barely keeping him steady as the other clutched his chest. Every breath was torture, the air was beyond suffocating. He was dizzied and dazed from the shadow assault, and his vision was going in and out as every slowly got darker.

Then, in the darkness, a pair of evil, golden eyes snapped open as he was yanked up by his collar.

Father chuckled as he gripped Nigel, winding up his arm. "Nothing some fresh air won't fix!"

Nigel spun as he barreled through the air, Father chucking him up and outside.

Nigel grunted in pain as he crashed through the ceiling. Bits of shingles and tiles went everywhere as he continued to soar higher. Fighting past his disorientation, he slammed his heels together, activating his rocket boots and struggling to regain balance as he hovered and took greedy breaths of clean air.

After he recovered, he tensed, eyes frantic as he scanned the skies for Father. He didn't need to look long, as five of the Father doppelgangers slowly descended around him in a square formation. He greeted them with a snarl.

"Now that we've got a bit more space to work with," one of the Fathers chuckled as he rose his hand. A swirling, concentrated sphere of fire coalesced in his palm. "Let's toss around the ol' horsehide!" His left foot thrust forward aggressively, while his right leg trailed behind, propelled by the seething currents that churned around him. With a violent motion, he hurled his arm forward in a savage arc, releasing the fireball with a primal roar.

The ball tore through the raging tempest with ferocious determination, carving a path of destruction through the turbulent skies. Nigel rocketed upwards, the streak of flame singing his boots. His eyes widened as the other copies began to respond. He zigged and zagged wildly, avoiding the barrage of fire being hurled at him.

The Father copies howled with a symphony of raucous laughter. "Attaboy, sport, keep an eye for that FASTBALL!"

Nigel twirled and dodged each oncoming attack, sweat rolling off him in torrents as the heat assailed him from the outside and exhaustion reached a boiling point within. With a yell, he surged forth with a desperate punch. Father merely floated to the side, bringing his knee up, and slamming it into Nigel's chest.

"Aw, c'mon, you ungrateful whelp. I would've killed to have my old man play catch with me," Father taunted. He grabbed Nigel's arm, searing it before tossing him aside. "This is America's greatest pastime!"

"Let's get him in the spirit, boys," another copy said as he caught Nigel. His eyes grinned with sinister glee as he punted Nigel. "Take me out to the ball game!"

"Take me out with the crowd," another jeered as Nigel entered his airspace. He scooped the boy up in a whir, juggling him. "Let's buy some peanuts and Cracker Jack—"

"YOU'RE MAD—AAAH!"

"—I don't care if we never get back," another merrily sang floating above leisurely, hands tucked behind his head. He opened a lazy eye, flipping in his stomach, kicking his feet up as he watched his nephew suffer. "Looks like Nigel's playing for the home team."

Another floated in, mockingly gauging the boy with a slow stroke of his chin. "But I don't think he can win."

"Well, that's a shame," the one flipping Nigel around added. He chucked the boy up, eyes narrowing as he gave Nigel an uppercut on the return fall. "Cause it's ONE!"

The copy above delivered a devastating haymaker. "TWO!"

The third conjured a massive, fiery paddle. His eyes followed his descending nephew as he wound up for the swing. He then surged forward, connecting with Nigel with a mighty CRACK that echoed in the night. "THREE STRIKES!"

The fourth clone, wearing an umpire ensemble, instinctively rose, forming a visor over his eyes. Fingers splayed, it created a narrow aperture, blocking out the moonlight as he watched his screaming foe sail out of sight. He crossed his arms before slicing them through the air. "He's out!"

"In the old, ball game!" The three other clones sang, laughing in unison as their arms embraced each other in a self-gratifying chain. The leftmost one ceased his chuckling when someone persistently tapped his shoulder. "What?"

"Sorry to rain on the parade, but, uh," a fifth Father joined, giving a dissatisfied cluck of his tongue as he drummed a pencil against a scorecard. He adjusted his reading specs, scrutinizing the card he palmed. "Seeing as we made him the ball, that technically might be a foul on our part."

The other Fathers groaned, one leaning forward with his hands squared on his hips. "Whose side are you on, pal?"

"Hey, hey, we're all adults here," the one keeping score soothed, raising his hands to placate, "Just making sure we play by the rules we cook up as we go."

The other copies relented, reluctantly mumbling various sounds of agreement.

A few blocks away, Nigel was dazed and slightly crispy he he plummeted towards the earth. As he shook off the stun, panic surged through him like an electric current. With a desperate twist of his heels, he engaged the thrusters in his boots, their fiery jets roaring to life with a promising hum to hopefully curtail his crash.

Fate had other plans. In his frantic attempt to regain control, he failed to notice the looming chimney jutting out from the roof below. The metal frame snagged his boot, sending him careening off course in a heart-stopping cascade of events. With a sickening crunch, he tore through the roof like a wayward meteor, shards of wood and debris exploding in his wake. The sudden impact reverberated through his bones as he slid painfully down the incline, each jagged edge of broken timber a cruel reminder of his misfortune.

Nigel's head collided with the unforgiving metal of a gutter, stars exploding in his vision as he tumbled off the roof. With a graceless thud, he crashed onto the soft earth of the backyard below, limbs splayed in a chaotic sprawl.

As he lay there, breathless and battered, the world spun around him, a symphony of pain echoing in every fiber of his being. In that moment of stillness, amid the wreckage of his failed flight, Nigel could only curse his luck and wonder how to salvage such a calamitous mess.

Above, the lights of the house flickered on before the second-floor window was yanked up. The grumpy, aged face of Mr. Jelly, formerly known as Knightbrace, accessed the damage done to his property as a string of floss hung from his mouth.

"What the heck is going on out here?" he shouted. "How's a guy supposed to floss with all this racket—holy toothpaste," he spluttered as he looked downward. "Numbuh 1?"

Nigel didn't acknowledge the retired dental vigilante, merely whimpered as pain paralyzed him.

Seeing the sad state the once thorn in his side was in, Knightbrace winced in a rare show of empathy. "Uh, you alright kid?"

Nigel could only weakly groan.

"Oh geez," Knightbrace muttered, looking around, hoping someone would show up to claim responsibility. After a moment of his conscience nagging him, he sighed. "Hold on. I got a first aid kit around here some—EEP!"

"Attending to a little family matter, Mr. Jelly." The retired villain cowered in fear his window sill was scorched by a hellish ray beam. Terrified eyes glanced upwards to see the stoic Father descending slowly like a fallen angel. The man's voice was coldly neutral as his eyes pierced Knightbrace. Father's right hand twitched, erupting in flame before warning, "Stay out of it."

Knightbrace gulped. He closed his window with trembling hands and retreated into his home.

Father's eyes narrowed up at the window for good measure before turning his attention to the ground.

"'Fraid we got a little out of bounds there, champ," Father greeted Nigel as he hovered mere inches above the ground. The adult watched as the boy struggled to get to his feet. "Ready to pack it in yet?"

Nigel wiped his mouth with the length of his arm. He glared up at Father before screaming and charging forth.

"Of course," Father sighed, exasperated. Nigel jumped up to attack him, and Father merely opened a hole in his chest, with the boy leaping through it like a hoop. Nigel landed behind him, and Father could only laugh at his dumbfounded expression. "Sorry to disappoint you, but the real McCoy is back at the mansion. I just drew the short straw."

Nigel snarled as he reached for a sharp-looking lawn ornament. "Then that means I just have to bash your head in once!"

The copy crooked his finger in a 'come hither' motion. "You can certainly try."

And try Nigel did, his swings and strikes wild and furious. There was no strategy to his movement, no ulterior logic at play. He just wanted to make the image in front of him disappear—forever. Unfortunately, it seemed to clone wasn't keen on indulging him, as it dodged around him, looking rather bored.

"Enough of this," it said, reaching up to grab the flamingo ornament and melt the plastic in its grip. He then looked down at Nigel, the boy panting as exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him. "You get that out of your system?"

Nigel's response was to fall to the ground, heaving like a sick dog.

"Tuckered out already? Better walk it off, champ. We have a whole itinerary of fun cooked up for you," the copy mused. It slowly raised its hand, palm flat as fire encircled it. "The Head Honcho wants you back in one piece, but I doubt he'll complain if you're a bit well done."

Before the copy could roast him, Nigel screamed in surprise as a dental floss bola shot out, encircled him, and carried him away to safety.

The Father clone slowly lowered his hand and folded it behind his back with his other. He looked towards the backdoor, giving the intruder an annoyed glare. "Did I not make myself clear?"

"J-Just let it go, man," Knightbrace said, donning his old uniform once again. He gulped, not sure what on Earth possessed him to get involved.

He then remembered Nigel's beaten and battered body, the boy gasping for breath and flinched.

They…they had never hurt them that badly, did they?

The copy of Father didn't make a move, and Knightbrace gathered the last of his resolve. "He's just a kid."

"My, my, how the pot calls the kettle black," Father said, voice oozing with scorn. "I wonder if your hands are as clean as your gum line, Knightbrace."

"I-I just wanted them to take better care of their teeth!"

Father tapped his chin. "Oh? I'm sure those babies you tried to force braces on would be singing your praises."

The oral-themed vigilant flinched looking down at the ground. "I…I just thought it was for their own good…"

"But don't you see? It is," the Father intoned. "Without people like us, the brats would've blown themselves up a thousand times over. We adults need to be in complete control of their every little move for the own good! It's a thankless job, but someone has to do it. Someone has to make the hard decisions in life for them." He shook his head. "And here I thought you of all people would understand. Just like you, I'm only doing what is NECESSARY!"

"Is what you're doing to Numbuh 1 necessary?" Knightbrace argued. His face darkened. "Was your massacre at the Boo-Boo Grove necessary?"

Father said nothing as he gazed at the sky. "Sometimes…examples must be made."

Knightbrace frowned, charging his fluoride blasters. "N-No. You…you've gone too far."

The copy's eyes began to glow as his head slowly turned to glare at the trembling man before him. "Is that what you think?"

Across the street, Nigel landed with a thud against the pavement. He shook the floss off of him and looked down, conflicted. Knightbrace was far from one of his favorite supervillains, and the boy wasn't sure how he felt about the fact he now owed the man a 'thank you'.

An explosion forced him to the ground. He looked up in horror, seeing Knightbrace's house go up in flames. The Father clone emerged from the fire like a demon spawned from Hell, Nigel grimly wondered how many miracles he had left tonight

"Sorry about that. Sometimes you gotta remind people of the pecking order," it said with a shrug.

Nigel wasn't focused on the copy. His attention was solely on the burning, crumbling foundation of Knightbrace's home. Despite everything, despite all their bitter history, an adult risked his life to save his own. He owed that man a 'thank you'.

And it seemed he would never get that chance.

"Don't tell me you're hung up over that weirdo," the clone said dismissively as he jerked his thumb toward the wreckage. "You've got more important things to concern yourself with, young man."

Nigel's eyes hardened as he pushed himself to get to his feet and raised his feet. "…round two."

"Oh, would you just GIVE IT A REST!" The copy roared, sending out a minor pulse of heat. It was enough to send the weakened Nigel to the ground again, and the Father copy went to hover over him menacingly. "I grow quite tired of your theatrics, Nigel. You tried your best, and guess what? Your best amounted to diddly-squat. That's life. Better get used to it."

The copy of Father hovered menacingly over Nigel as the flames of Knightbrace's house continued to lick the night sky behind them.

Nigel, battered and bruised, refused to yield, his eyes burning with defiance.

"You think you're so brave," Father taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "But you're just a child playing at being a hero. You don't understand the harsh realities of the world. You don't know the real problems that exist beyond your silly little playforts and water-gun fights. You think something like your precious Kids Next Door can save everyone, but you're just fooling yourself. LOOK AROUND YOU!"

Father motioned to the night around them, the devastation continuing uninterrupted.

"Where are the Kids Next Door, Number One?" the adult hissed. "Where were they for your deserters? Where were they for your OSHA nightmare of a Medical Grove? Where were they for Ms. McKenzie? When real trouble came knocking, I'll tell you where they were: they were sitting at home, being coddled by their spinless mommies and daddies." He scoffed. "I can't believe I ever wasted my time with you brats. 'Kids helping other kids'—HA! The only thing you kids helped yourselves to was sneaking your grubby little hands in the cookie jar."

Nigel struggled to rise again, his muscles screaming in protest. "You're wrong," he spat out, defiance fueling his words. "We fight for what's right. We fight to protect kids like me from monsters like you."

Father chuckled darkly, the flames from Knightbrace's house casting eerie shadows on his face. "Monsters? Oh, Nigel, you have no idea. The real monsters are the ones who pretend to be heroes, who cling to their ignorant, childish ideals even as the world crumbles around them. Do you think I'm the bad guy? You have no clue about the real sickos out there, let me tell you. You may not agree with my methods, BUT I DON'T CARE! I'm the adult. I know what's right. I'M THE ONE WHO'S GONNA WIN IN THE END!"

Nigel gritted his teeth, his fists clenched in determination. "I won't let you."

Father's eyes gleamed with malice as he leaned in closer, his voice a menacing whisper. "You can't stop me, Nigel. No one can. The universe doesn't care about your struggle. It doesn't matter how much you believe or how much you hope. In the end, we all fall. I'm just here to help you realize it."

Nigel's resolve wavered for a moment, doubt creeping into his mind like a shadow.

But then he remembered the faces of his friends, the oath he took to protect kids everywhere.

With a defiant roar, he pushed himself to his feet once more, facing Father with unwavering determination.

"You may think you've won," Nigel declared, his voice ringing out into the night. "But as long as there's one kid left standing, you'll never truly defeat us. We'll keep fighting, no matter what."

Father's laughter echoed through the night as he watched Nigel, his expression twisted with contempt. "Aw, you think you're special? Think you can change the world if you click your heels together and hope hard enough? It doesn't work that way. You can't defy fate."

"Maybe not," Nigel stood tall, his eyes blazing with defiance. "But we can sure as heck try."

"We'll see if you're still saying that once I'm done with you. I've indulged you long enough. You've been a naughty child, and you're long overdue for your comeuppance. It's the end." The copy's hand reached down, jerking the boy upwards. "But first, I want to hear you say it."

Nigel was silent as he glared.

"It's the end," the copy repeated. "Say it!"

"No."

"Say. It."

"I won't."

"WHY NOT!?"

"'Cause there's one thing you forgot, loser!"

The copy's eyes widened. Nigel's did as well.

It was not the boy who said those words.

In the dimly lit, rain-soaked streets, the roar of engines filled the air as a figure, astride her sleek candy motorcycle, hurtled into the fray. With a sharp twist of the throttle, she veered sharply as she approached from behind, the tires screeching in protest against the wet asphalt.

The rider leaned into the turn, her body a mere blur against the backdrop of the fiery skyline. With nerves of steel, she kicked the bike into a controlled slide, sparks flying as metal meets pavement.

Time seemed to slow as she skidded through the slick streets right into Father's copy, knocking him away and freeing Nigel to fall to the ground. The lights and flames cast an ethereal glow upon her determined face from beneath the rim of her cap. For a fleeting moment, she defied gravity, a lone figure dancing with danger amidst the chaos of the night.

And then, with a thunderous roar, the rider straightened the bike, breaking into a stop in front of the stunned Nigel below.

Abby grabbed the rim of her red hat, pulling it backward as she smirked down at her friend.

"And it's that the Kids Next Door?" she said as she extended her hand down to the boy. "It never ends, baby."

Nigel's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared up at Abby, his heart pounding with a mixture of relief and exhilaration. With a surge of energy, he reached up and clasped Abby's outstretched hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet. His gaze never wavered from hers, their eyes locking and gazing into one another's.

"You... you came back," Nigel stammered, his voice choked with emotion.

Abby grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Of course I did. Wouldn't want you to have all the fun without me, would I?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, Nigel couldn't help but chuckle at her playful remark. "I'll admit…you had me worried for a second there."

Her lips wobbling, Abby kicked off the bike and jumped into a hug, Nigel catching her and spinning her around. For a moment, the rest of the world faded away. Nothing else in the universe mattered but their healing hearts beating in perfect sync, finally relishing in the warm joy of finally returning home.

"Yeah, well, Numbuh 5 did say she wasn't gonna let you do this alone," she whispered, burying her head in the crook of his neck as tears leaked into her smile. "…I'm sorry I almost forgot that."

Nigel smiled, his tears mingling into Abby's hair. "You never have to apologize. Never to me."

"Better be careful giving me a free pass like that," she laughed, leaning away, still connected at arm's length. She took a moment to wipe her eyes. "So, how can this washed-up Supreme Leader start makin' it up to ya?"

Nigel opened his mouth, then paused, considering something as he stared at the vehicle behind her. A devious twinkle entered his eyes. "Well…maybe if you let me take your cool ride for a test drive…"

Abby smirked.

Further down the road, the Father copy slowly sat up, stars in his eyes. He shook his head to recover as another one slowly descended towards him.

"What the heck is taking you so long?" the new copy scolded as he tapped his watch. "We got a schedule to keep!"

"Gee, thanks for reminding me, pal," the dazed one grumbled as he rubbed his head. "There was a…complication."

"What could be so complicated about wrangling one measly…" the other copy started to ask but trailed off, squinting his eyes as he noted something approaching from behind his companion. His eyes widened as he noted an oncoming headlight, and took a large step to the left without saying a word.

The injured copy blinked and turned around right in time to be impaled by the pike end of Abby's ONE-WAY ROADSIGN staff.

The remaining copy watched as his companion disappeared in a puff of smoke. Nigel sped on by on some weird motorcycle, Abigail Lincoln nestled behind him and making a face as they drove off into the night.

"…yeah, that could be a problem," the copy mumbled. He frowned, fire gathering around him as he blasted off in pursuit,

From the flaming remains of Knightbrace's house, a charred hand reached up and grabbed a picket fence. The singed, crispy form of the dental avenger himself pulled his body over the fence outside of the heat radius, and let loose a breathless laugh as he rode on the pure adrenaline of survival.

"Ha! Fire retardant toothpaste," he praised as he shakily held an emptied tube to the sky. "Nine out of ten dentists said I was crazy for inventing it, but who's laughing now, jerks!"

"GET BACK HERE!"

The yell of Father caused Knightbrace to duck into a nearby bush, fearful the man was coming back to finish the job. He was shocked, however, to see a motorcycle zip by, carrying Numbuh One and Numbuh Five. Father (at least he was sure it was Father) zipped on by, ignoring him in favor of chasing down the two teenagers.

Knightbrace blinked. Not sure what to think of all these revelations. But as he looked at his burning house, he frowned and hollered out, "KICK HIS BUTT, KIDS! AVENGE MY MORTGAGE." He then stopped, catching one last glimpse of the candy-themed sportbike before it skidded around the curb. He whistled. "Whoa, that is one—"

---

Kids Next Door: S.W.E.E.T.R.I.D.E.

Sugarcoated. Whip. Enables. Exhilarating. Tours. Really. Incorporating. Delicious. Epicness.

---

As Abby and Nigel sped away on the SWEETRIDE, they could feel the heat of Father's flames licking at their heels. Abby leaned forward, her grip on Nigel tightening as she glanced back at their pursuer.

"We've got company!" she yelled over the roar of the engine.

Nigel's jaw clenched as he glanced in the rear-view mirror, spotting Father's fiery form gaining on them. "Hang on!" he shouted, gunning the engine and swerving around a corner.

The streets blurred past them, the wind whipping against their faces as they raced through the night. Father's fireballs streaked through the air, narrowly missing them as they dodged and weaved through the maze of backyards and streets before cutting through a playground.

Father's copy surged forth, becoming a pure streak of flame as he zipped in front of them. He appeared in their path, raising his hands to blow-torch them. Nigel noted a slide, and quickly shifted to the right, using it as a ramp to soar over the field. He cleared the rest of the park, landing on a power slide before accelerating down the road.

Abby chuckled as the copy began throwing a tantrum in the distance. She gave Nigel a teasing pinch. "Not bad for a guy who doesn't have his learner's permit."

"Actually, I have my class C license in seven and a half solar systems," Nigel said. He noted Father's form approaching again in the mirror and began glancing at the gum-drop button panel. "Does this thing have any rear-launching capabilities?"

"Nope. But don't sweat it." Abby retracted her staff before pulling out a modified mini-blender turned ice-cream SMG. "Numbuh 5's got ya covered."

The clone of Father raised his hand, a massive ball of fire congealing. His eyes widened as he ducked to the side, losing concentration as he narrowly avoided razor-sharp fudgsicles. "Hey! You're gonna shoot someone's eye out with those!"

Abby snarled as he quickly reloaded. "Yeah, so do us a favor and keep still!"

Nigel eased off the gas, decelerating just enough for Abby to get clearer shots. Her aim only seemed to further excel with age, as her barrage had the clone yelping and twirling sloppily in the air to avoid being hit. Grinning, she took careful aim at his right flank and let loose. He fell right for her ploy, for while he dodged the fudge needles, his new course sent him crashing against a street lamp.

The copy groaned as he slid down the length of the pole, falling on his back in a daze as he hit the ground. As the rumble of the SWEETRIDE lessened as they escaped, he growled as he whipped out a communicator.

"Squadron Raspberry, you still en route with that last shipment of rocky road?" he spoke into the receiver. "No, slight change of plans: I need you to divert course. It's time to earn your bonus."

"That should give us some breathing room," Abby said, the duo further down the road. She nestled back into her seat, holding onto Nigel as her expression got serious. "So what's the sitch, spaceman?"

"I underestimated him. Would have been a fatal mistake had you not shown up," Nigel admitted, eyes lowering in frustration. Abby comfortably gripped his shoulder, and he smiled back gratefully before continuing. "His tactics have gotten more underhanded, he's more devious than ever, and he seems to have learned a few new parlor tricks. That's not even the real Father chasing us."

"The cheat always did love pulling dirty tricks out of his ass," Abby grumbled. Her eyes caught sight of something coming in hot on the horizon, and she pointed to alert Nigel. "Speaking of, looks like he called in back-up."

Nigel followed her line of sight and saw a semi-truck with the Tasty Taste logo slapped on its massive tanker. The large vehicle positioned itself to block their advance. Several heavily armored Ice-Cream men took point, aiming weapons at them while another hooked a hose to the frosty container.

"Hmm, doubt we're going through that," Nigel idly commented. He smirked as he looked back at his partner. "So, over or under?"

Abby mirrored his devious expression as she dug around in her side pouch. "Why not both?"

Nigel leaned low, serpentining the SWEETRIDE around incoming ice cream blasts. Abby unraveled an atomic fireball pop from its wrapper, which might as well have been just a giant 'WARNING' sign. She plopped the candy in her mouth, face immediately going red, eyes watering, and cheeks bulging as she started swishing it around.

The line of Ice-Cream men broke ranks as a heavy-set gunner marched up the center with the hose he attached to the tanker. He hefted it over his shoulder and uncranked the nozzle as pressure started to build. A sinister laugh spilled from his lips as he aimed at the children heading straight for him.

Abby took Nigel's hand, and right before the Ice-Cream heavy released a torrent of concentrated rocky road, the boy hurled Abby up and over as he ducked the entire bike into a slide. He ducked right under the heavy, tripping him up. His hand reached out to swipe an ice cream cone from a surprised grunt's hand and winked as he disappeared under the tanker.

Above, Abby careened through the air as she eased into a backflip, her agile figure painting a luminous silhouette against the full moon hanging low in the sky. Just as her head was perpendicular to the tanker, she spit out the atomic popper, it sizzling through the air as it stuck to the truck's connector valve.

The driver of the truck leaned out the window just in time to see Nigel clearing the other side, pulling the SWEETRIDE back up. At that same moment, Abby landed backward on the bike, crossing her legs and throwing up a peace sign, laughing as they both continued on. His eyes narrowed in confusion but then widened as he looked back and he heard a hissing sound that steadily grew in volume.

He scrambled out of the truck, he and the rest of the squad booked it in random directions as the atomic popper exploded, rupturing the tanker and causing a freezing mushroom cloud of rocky road to spew everywhere.

"T-take thaaaat, s-suckas," Abby mumbled, her tongue lolling out and extremely burnt. She fanned at it, but paused as Nigel handed back a cone of blurpleberry ice cream. Her eyes shone with a smile as she mashed it against her tongue, emitting muffled "mmmfs" of pleasure, the creamy relief giving her sweet, sweet tingles. "Thanks, b-baby."

"Anytime," Nigel said before returning his attention to the road. "Should be a clear shot back to the manor, now."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that!"

The teenagers tensed as Father's voice rang in the air. Out of nowhere, four-armored Ice-Cream trucks barreled through various garages and picket fences. Nigel and Abby yelped, the boy hastily going into defensive maneuvers to avoid them. While he prevented a crash, he cursed as the four trucks surrounded them in a box formation. They were trapped.

"If it isn't Abigail Lincoln," the Father clone sardonically greeted as he landed on the lead truck. He looked down at the teens with disdain, eyes settling on the girl in particular. "Surprised a has-been such as yourself would dare grace me with her unwanted presence."

She chucked her cone at the leftmost truck before sneering upward. "Only has-been Numbuh 5 sees around here is you."

"Careful," the clone warned, slowly wagging his finger as flame started to spark at its tip. "Remember what happened the last time you tried to bluff me—OW!"

A fudgscile sliced through his hand, taking it off as he whined in pain.

Abby lowered her gun, only sad it wasn't the real Father she just shot at. "Oh, I ain't bluffin', asshole."

"Miserable little potty-mouth," the clone grumbled. He focused his glare on the boy. "It'd be wise to tell your friend to take a hike, Nigel. I want you in one piece. Her? Not so much."

Nigel peered over his shoulder. "Thoughts, Numbuh 5?"

"Tell him to take his little threats and shove 'em up his ass."

"You heard her. Shove 'em up your arse."

"Why you no good—FINE!" He stomped his foot against the truck. "LOAD 'EM UP!"

Nigel and Abby looked up to see cone-shaped cannons rising from the roofs of the four trucks. They all turned and aimed down at the two operatives trapped in the middle.

"The suits figured it was finally time to expand and start selling ice cream to the kiddies, aren't they thoughtful? The first flavor we were thinking of? Broccoli Barf Swirl," he said, taking devious delight at how their faces paled. "And you lucky devils get to be our first taste testers. Congrats!"

As the four cannons began charging, Nigel sent a heavy look back to Abby. She nodded, silently grabbing his waist and pressing her chest into his back. Nigel rose his heels, waiting for the right moment to engage his boot-thrusters for a desperate, last-second escape.

"Ready. Aim," Father drawled out. He grinned madly. "FIRE—"

One truck went early, shooting a sickly green cannonball of frozen slop from its muzzle. It didn't hit the two on the SWEETRIDE, however. No, instead, it took out the rightmost truck, sending the vehicle crashing off the bridge they passed over.

Father spluttered as the truck in the rear went rogue, quickly veering its cannon to disable the ice cream truck to the left. The adult figment watched as it pointed toward his truck, the cannon rumbling as it prepared another volley. "WAIT A GOSHDARN SECOND—"

It did not wait, firing another blast of Broccoli Barf Swirl. The Father copy barely reacted in time, taking to the air as the last truck was sent crashing into a nearby house.

Nigel and Abby looked on bewildered. In their moment of shock, the truck slowly overtook them and lined itself up in front of them. Its back doors flew open, and a small ramp extended and scraped against the road. Nigel looked to Abby for confirmation, but she could only shrug, just as lost as he was.

Upon hearing Father's furious wail behind them, they risked the lesser of two evils and began to board the truck. The SWEETRIDE rolled up inside, and the two operatives jumped last second to pull themselves onto the roof of the truck.

They were immediately pelted by a rain of fire, Abby pushing Nigel down as she whipped up for fudge gun and started blasting. The Father copy flew over her line of fire, snapping his fingers to send a quick spark at her hands. Abby hissed, dropping her blaster.

Nigel pushed against the ice cream canon, trying to hasten its aim towards the mad flaming specter. Just as it was about to go off, Father sent down another fireball, it landing in the nozzle of the cannon and blowing it up from within.

The adult landed between the two teens, quickly grabbing them by the scruffs of their collars. He heaved, rage radiating off him like literal heatwaves. "I don't know who to deal with first. You two brats, or my SOON-TO-BE REDUNDANT DRIVER!"

As if summoned, a small figure opened the driver's window and swung out and on top of the truck, chucking an open carton of ice cream at the clone. It hit in square in the jaw, and he dropped Nigel and Abby as he stumbled back. He wiped away the creamy mess just in time to see a sneaker boot land between his eyes.

The copy went tumbling over the side, crashing into the road before shattering into smoke.

Wally leaned over the side, grinning as his magnet sneakers held him in place. "Guess he shoulda decided quicker."

Nigel and Abby wobbly got to their feet as they greeted the boy. "Wally!"

"Who else would save your sorry butts?" he said, chucking up his arms in a cocky shrug. "And if it's the same with you guys, Numbuh 4 is fine. Y'know, for old time's sake." Nigel and Abby rushed towards Wally, relief flooding their expressions as they embraced their friend. The boy blushed under the affection and stuttered as he shoved them away, trying to retain some semblance of cool indifference. "A-Alright, already! C-Can we at least save the mushy crud for later?"

Nigel laughed, smiling warmly at his friend. "I can't believe you came…"

"And I can't believe you. And they call me the dumb one." Wally watched them cautiously, arms folded across his chest as his eyes flickered between Nigel and Abby. Despite the relief of finding them safe, a hint of frustration lingered in his expression. His voice was gruff, tinged with a mix of annoyance and concern. "C'mon... seriously? Didn't think you'd need help, huh? What were you thinkin', going off on your own like that?"

Nigel shifted uncomfortably under Wally's gaze, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I…I didn't want to drag you into my mess."

Wally shook his head, his frustration evident. "You cruddy leader-types thinkin' ya gotta do everything on your own. That's getting real old, real quick if ya ask me."

Nigel rubbed at his arm, looking away.

Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment before Wally sighed heavily, his demeanor softening slightly. "But... I get it. You're stubborn like that. Still, next time, don't be stupid. Call for backup, yeah?"

Nigel blinked before working up a small smile. "…yeah, I will. Promise."

"You better." A small smile tugged at the corners of Wally's lips as he clapped Nigel on the shoulder. He exchanged a glance with Abby and his small smile morphed into a knowing smirk. "And looky here, seems like somebody decided to stop feelin' all sorry for themselves."

Abby rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress her grin. "Wow. Got the real makings of a motivational speaker there, short stack. Should do speeches at Harvard."

"M-Maybe I will!" he shot back. He huffed, crossing his arms and falling into a pout. "Ya barely avoided that pounding you were owed, y'know."

Laughing, Abby pulled Wally in with one arm and gave him a soft kiss on his forehead before following up with a soft noogie. "Only just barely. Thank you, Numbuh 4. For everything."

"W-What did I just say about mushy crud?" he mumbled, not wanting to admit how much he missed her sisterly affection. He ruffled his own hair, shaking off his deep red blush before turning back to Nigel. "So, we gonna do this or what, Numbuh 1? I came 'ere for the biggest adult-butt-whopping' of the century!"

"Don't worry, you'll get your fill," Nigel said confidently, resting a firm, supportive hand on Wally's shoulder. "We just have to get back to the manor, first."

"Uh, that might be sooner than ya think, boss," Abby said, pointing out the mansion appearing over the hill. She then took note of the sturdy gate they were speeding towards at an alarming rate. "And looks like he rolled up the welcoming mat."

"Like he'd ever make it easy," Nigel grumbled. He turned to Wally and barked out orders. "Quick! Tell Numbuh 4 to turn the truck around!"

Wally pointed at himself. "I am Numbuh 4."

Nigel blinked dumbly. "Then who's driving the—"

They were interrupted by a loud crash and felt a jolt as the ice cream truck careened through the gates of the Delightful Manor grounds. Nigel, Abby, and Wally screamed, trying to maintain their balance as the truck lurched forward. The ice cream truck tore across the manicured lawns of the grounds, and the sound of alarms blaring in the distance announced their untimely arrival.

Talk about your grand entrances.

The truck rumbled wildly across the outer grounds, finally stopping as it crashed into an exquisite gazebo. From all corners of the property, platoons of Ice Cream Men were at the ready. They swarmed the crash site, looking through the reticles of their rifles as hundreds of tiny red laser dots coated the flaming truck like a bad case of chicken pox.

Suddenly, Nigel burst through the roof of the truck, his newly acquired ice cream cone helmet taking the brunt of the force as he rocketed into the air. Simultaneously, the back doors blew upon as Abby rode out on her SWEETRIDE, twisting and kicking up dirt and blinding the Ice Cream Men while Wally, nestled behind her, used the confiscated weaponry of the truck to open fire.

From above, Nigel provided air support, ice-cream Gatling gauntlets raining down soft-serve on the unsuspecting lugs below. The visor of the helmet augmented his aim, helping him clear a path forward for Abby and Wally as they zoomed along. He looked down, proud as Abby expertly drove through enemy forces and Wally shot and smacked away and stragglers that got too close.

This moment? This feeling? It was almost perfect.

It ended all too quickly as two rays of fire shot out his jet boots and sent him smoking to the ground.

Further ahead, Wally looked back and shouted as he pointed to Nigel falling from the sky. Acting quickly, Abby extended the pike of her ONE-WAY staff, slamming it into the ground and using its leverage to perform a sharp U-turn.

Back at his crash, site, Nigel stumbled into a stand as his head popped out of his beat-up helmet. He gave the article a silent 'thank you' as he tossed it away. His expression hardened as Father landed in front of him. Assuming it to be another clone, he whipped up his soft-serve gauntlets, intending to finish the clone off quickly.

He gasped as two Ice Cream Men sneaked up from behind, forcing him to his knees.

"That's property of Tasty Taste, you no good brat," one chuckled. He looked up and grinned as Father stepped forward. "We got him, sir!"

"Ah, you'll have to forgive me, boys. I'm not used to you lunkheads actually doing your job," Father chaffingly commended. The two grunts flinched at the backhanded praise, but Father ignored them in favor of his rebellious nephew. "I forgot how much trouble you could inspire, scamp."

Nigel snorted. "What can I say? Old habits die hard."

"Trust me, I cannot WAIT to put that theory to the test," Father seethed. "You know what? I'm glad your nosy little friends decided to crash our little shindig. They can bear witness—watch you squirm while I watch as the last of their rebellious spirit is snuffed out. Kill two birds with one stone and all that."

The clone stepped away, getting lost in another, convoluted monologue while Nigel could only groan. Even Father's bloody copies loved to hear themselves yammer on. The boy accessed the two grunts, and he had to give them credit: they had him in quite the hold. In his bruised and half-exhausted state, he wasn't sure he could weasel his way out of this.

However, a light out of the corner of his sight screamed for attention. He gently peered upward, seeing a small, green dot trailing away from the moon.

"—HEY!" The Father copy screamed. "Are you even listening to me?"

Nigel squinted his eyes as the dot got closer. As the realization set in, he grinned. "Nope."

Father grumbled. Noting Nigel fixing his gaze to the sky, he looked up as well. "What in blazes are you looking—"

An emerald-green moon pod buried itself in the spot the copy used to occupy. Before it was squashed to bits, that is.

The two grunts gasped as the pod door hissed open. They were then taken by storm as two, teddy-bear fueled shotgun slugs sent them whimpering to the ground. Nigel slowly stood, massaging his sore wrists as he smirked at the new arrival.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Kuki teased, skipping out of her pod to boop the boy on the nose. She winked up at him, eyes casting a radiant glow in the ethereal moonlight. "How many times am I gonna have to save your butt, Mister?"

Nigel pulled the girl into a hug, and she immediately returned it, elventy-buhmillion fold. They embraced, and Nigel closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of contentment. "Well, we could go for three."

"Oh, you," she giggled. She leaned back, immediately frowning as she looked him over. "You're hurt!"

Nigel forced a smile despite his body screaming at him. "Minor bruises at best."

"Sit your butt down," Kuki scolded, forcing him to sit on a nearby stump. He was, admittedly, too tired to resist. She reached behind her, pulling out a rather bulky first aid kit as she got to work. "There's rough-housing and then there's this. You're gonna give me a heart attack!"

As Kuki tended to Nigel's wounds with practiced efficiency, she kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Ice Cream Men were closing in from all sides, their relentless assault showing no signs of slowing down. With one hand, she applied antiseptic ointment to Nigel's scrapes and bruises, while with the other, she effortlessly wielded her teddy bear shotgun, shooting down any ice cream thugs who dared to approach.

"Stay still, Nigel," Kuki instructed, her voice gentle but firm as she cleaned and bandaged his injuries. "I can't work properly if you keep squirming around."

Nigel winced as Kuki dabbed at a particularly nasty cut on his arm, but he obeyed, knowing that Kuki's care was the best chance he had at getting patched up quickly. He watched in awe as Kuki seamlessly transitioned from nurse to warrior, her movements fluid and precise as she defended them from their attackers.

"You're amazing, Kuki," Nigel said, admiration shining in his eyes as he watched her in action.

Kuki flashed him a bright smile, her cheeks flushing with pride. A grunt ran up from behind, but she merely elbowed his groin, ignoring him as he went down crying in agony. "Aw, thanks! I also do parties."

He chuckled. "Then you came to the right place."

As she finished bandaging Nigel's wounds, Kuki's attention was drawn to a group of Ice Cream Men attempting to flank them from the left. Without missing a beat, she whipped around, her teddy bear blaster at the ready as she fired off a volley of plush projectiles, sending the thugs tumbling to the ground.

Nigel slowly stood, astounded by how his condition had done a complete one-eighty. He felt like he could take down an entire army now! He then remembered his situation, frowning as he figured that might be exactly what he would have to do.

"Sheesh, the nerve of these dummy-heads," Kuki said, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the area for any other threats. More Ice Cream Men began to advance, and she could only scoff haughtily. "I get all dressed up for a good time, and there they go ruining it!"

Nigel played along, patting her shoulder sympathetically. "There, there. I'm sure we can think of some way to salvage the fun."

"Oh! Ohohohoh, I know!" Kuki said, hands bunched under her chin as she bounced on her heels. "We should dance! Can we? Can we puh-leeeeease?"

The boy chuckled as he scratched the back of his head. "I wouldn't want to make Numbuh 4 jealous."

"NAHIT'SCOOLGONUTS!" Wally quickly shouted as he and Abby zipped by, mowing down a squad of Ice Cream jerks.

Nigel and Kuki blinked. Then, the boy composed himself before going into an exaggerated bow and daintily extending his hand. "Then shall we?"

Kuki used her fingers to veil a playful, snobbish laugh as she accepted his hand. "Indeed, we shall!"

I believe,

With a flourish, Nigel swept Kuki into his arms, and they began to dance— not the elegant ballroom tango one might expect, but a playful, exaggerated dance-fight. They moved in perfect synchronization, their bodies twisting and turning as they gracefully dodged incoming attacks from the Ice Cream Men.

Nigel and Kuki seamlessly incorporated combat moves into their routine, each dip and twirl accompanied by a well-timed strike or kick. Nigel spun Kuki outwards, her leg extending in a high kick to knock down an Ice Cream Man approaching from the side. She landed back in Nigel's arms with a laugh, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

They moved effortlessly together, their movements fluid and precise as they fought off their adversaries with style and grace. Nigel dipped Kuki low, narrowly avoiding a barrage of ice cream cannon fire, before lifting her back up with a spin that sent her teddy-bear blaster whirling through the air, taking down several Ice Cream Men in its path.

As they danced, their laughter rang out amidst the chaos. With each exaggerated pose and playful jab, they showed the Ice Cream Men that they were not to be underestimated.

And as the battle raged on, Nigel and Kuki danced on, their hearts filled with the joy and the thrill of the fight. Together, they were unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with, just two kids having fun.

We can fly high up in the sky!

As Nigel and Kuki continued their antics, a stray blast from a sprinkle mortar suddenly erupted nearby, sending them flying in opposite directions. Nigel tumbled through the air, his eyes widening in surprise as he braced himself for a rough landing.

But before he could hit the ground, Abby appeared out of nowhere on her SWEETRIDE, expertly catching him mid-fall. Nigel blinked in astonishment as Abby steadied him on the back of her bike, her grin mischievous as she revved the engine.

"Need a lift, Numbuh 1?" Abby teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she glanced back at him.

Nigel couldn't help but laugh, relief flooding through him as he wrapped his arms around Abby's waist. "You're a lifesaver, Numbuh 5."

Meanwhile, across the battlefield, Kuki stumbled backward from the force of the blast, her eyes widening in alarm as she teetered dangerously on the brink of falling. But before she could hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the edge.

She looked up in surprise to see Wally, her boyfriend, standing behind her with a sheepish grin on his face. "Need a hand, Numbuh 3?"

Kuki giggled, her heart swelling with affection as she melted into Wally's embrace. "Always, Numbuh 4."

Wally's cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment, but he cleared his throat and summoned up the courage to speak. "Uh, so, uh, do you mind if I, uh, cut in?"

Kuki's eyes lit up with delight, her grin widening as she leaned in to give Wally a quick kiss. "Of course not, silly!"

One day we may just,

With a shy smile, Wally took Kuki's hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle as they stepped back onto the makeshift dance floor. As they began to dance together, their movements graceful and fluid, the chaos of battle faded into the background, leaving only the joy of being in each other's arms.

As they danced, Wally couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness swell within him. With each step, he felt more connected to Kuki, their bond stronger than ever as they moved in perfect harmony.

Suddenly, as if on cue, a stray rose sailed through the air, landing directly between Wally's teeth in a move straight out of one of Kuki's favorite cheesy movies. He grinned triumphantly, striking a dramatic pose as he twirled Kuki around in his arms.

But his victory was short-lived as a sudden tickle in his nose caused him to sneeze, sending the rose flying out of his mouth. His expression morphed into one of disgruntled embarrassment, but Kuki merely laughed, her melodic laughter filling the air as she danced beside him.

"A-plus for effort," she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she effortlessly kicked away more thugs that dared to approach.

Be able to touch down on a star!

Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, Nigel and Abby took turns on the SWEETRIDE, seamlessly switching between driver and passenger as they fought off their enemies with classic Kids Next Door flair. Nigel expertly maneuvered the bike, weaving through the throngs of Ice Cream Men with precision, while Abby performed daring tricks that doubled as effective slashes and strikes.

As Nigel drove, Abby leaped off the bike, executing a perfectly timed somersault that sent a powerful kick straight into the face of an approaching Ice Cream Man. Nigel grinned, his eyes shining with awe as he watched Abby's impressive display of skill.

Then, it was his turn. As Abby took the wheel, Nigel leaped onto the back of the bike, his soft-serve gauntlets at the ready as he fired off a volley of ice cream bullets, taking down enemy after enemy with pinpoint accuracy.

Together, they were a formidable team, their movements fluid and coordinated as they fought side by side against the forces of adult tyranny without missing a beat. With each punch, kick, and trick, they showed the Ice Cream Men that they were no match for the unstoppable duo.

Off the road we have to go,

As the chaos of battle began to subside, Nigel, Kuki, Abby, and Wally found themselves back together in one group, their laughter echoing through the air as they basked in the pure joy and wonder of being together again.

The roadless path we shall proceed until the end of our roles!

Nigel clapped Wally on the back, his expression filled with gratitude as he looked around at his friends.

Wally grinned, his arm draped around Kuki's shoulders as he squeezed her gently.

Kuki leaned into Wally's side, her heart overflowing with love for her friends.

Abby smirked, her eyes glimmering with impish delight as she nudged Nigel playfully.

There's no turning back for us,

They gathered in a circle, their smiles wide and their eyes shining with relief as they took in each other's familiar faces.

'Cause we will never give—

"ENOUGH!"

And then they groaned, the spell broken as they turned to face the one who dared to try and tear them apart.

Father, the real Father, slowly descended onto the lawn, the intensity of his aura turning the vibrant grass into a dark, black scorch before his feet even hit the ground. His last two remaining duplicates fell in line behind, stoic and silent as they stood vigil for what was about to transpire.

The dwindling remaining forces of the Ice Cream Men shook with terror and simply retreated further back into the center of the massive grounds while their employer worked off some steam.

"I will not sanction this tomfoolery on my property any longer!" he screeched, eyes red as he snapped a finger at Nigel. "You! I do believe your invitation mentioned NOTHING about allowing you a plus one!"

"He didn't bring a plus one—he brought plus three. Duh!" Wally mocked, twirling his finger around his ear as she nudged Abby. "And here I thought I was bad at math!"

Father's eye twitched. He summoned a crackling blue ball of condensed flame and hurled it straight toward the blonde teen.

Faster than her friends thought possible, Kuki skidded in front of Wally, swung her GO ROADSIGN staff in a mighty arch, and smacked the fireball, deflecting it right back at Father.

The man's eyes widened as he grabbed the nearest copy. The figment yelped as Father chucked it between him and blast, shielding himself at the expense of his clone.

The other copy blinked before slowly pointing at the pile of ashes that used to be his double. "Boy, am I glad I'm not that guy."

"Try that again," Kuki said, voice sweet, eyes closed, and her head tilted. "I dare you."

"…lucky shot, is all," Father said, straightening and regaining his composure as he stared down at the girl dismissively. "But you better run along back home to your dollies before that luck runs out, sweetie. The grown-ups are talking."

Kuki's face went hard as she flipped him off.

Sector V gasped.

Father spluttered. "Well, I never."

Nigel stepped up, placing a hand on Kuki's shoulder. They shared a look, and she nodded as she let him take point. Nigel glared at the man before them. "I've had quite enough of you insulting my friends."

Wally raised his hands, realizing something. "Hey, he didn't insult me."

Not being able to resist such low-hanging fruit, Father quipped, "That's because you're too much of an idiot to even understand you're being insulted."

Wally sent him a dry look. "Ah. There it is."

"Some grown-up you are," Nigel snarled. "Too afraid to pick on someone your own size, so you have to belittle a bunch of kids instead."

"Ha! What, you think that just because you got your little playmates back it changes anything? The outcome remains the same." Father slowly trailed his eyes over the youth in front of him, and his lips curled into a sinister smirk. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel like you're one short of a full set."

The four flinched.

Father pressed harder. "And I wonder who's fault that is. Any guesses…Ms. Lincoln?"

Abby went stock still. Wally encircled his arms around her protectively and Kuki's frame trembled with rage as her grip on her staff became so hard it started shaking.

Nigel felt a surge of fury rising within him, a burning sensation itching to burst forth like a raging inferno. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to lash out, to unleash his pent-up anger and frustration upon the man who dared to taunt them. It took everything not to give in to that desire.

Father's smirk widened at Nigel's silent defiance, clearly relishing in the discomfort he had caused. But Nigel refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, refusing to stoop to his level of petty insults and mind games.

"…really? Nothing?" Father mused with a puff of his new pipe. "Used to be a lot easier to bait you brats back in the day."

Right when it seemed Nigel was ready to snap, a hand gripped his own. He gasped, looking up to see Abby beside him. She squeezed his hand, face neutral as she simply nodded.

Nigel took a deep breath, nodding as well before staring down Father. "This ends now. It's over."

"Oh my poor, deluded boy," Father chuckled as he suddenly hunched over.

Everything went deathly quiet.

"…the party is JUST GETTING STARTED!"

Tremors surged through the area as the earth beneath their feet quaked. All around the property, plumes of lava and fire erupted, consuming everything in their destructive path. Reacting quickly, Abby tossed Wally back onto her bike and zipped away, Nigel in hot pursuit as he grabbed Kuki and jerked her to safety using the momentum of his jet boots.

An oblong ring of fire seared the ground, creating a barrier between the outer perimeter and the inner property the Delightful Mansion itself occupied. From inside the ring, the remnants of the Ice Cream Men gathered their courage, and the Board of Executives took their place behind Father as the man slowly raised his arms in the air, as if struggling under some unseen weight.

Slowly, the manor and its inner property began to rise into the air, metal, and platforms unearthing themselves as massive jet engines roared to life. Slowly, the manor and what was left of its property seemed dwarfed by the hidden air carrier that dwelt deep below, having been awakened by Father's blazing will.

Nigel, Kuki, Wally, and Abby looked up safely away in stupefied awe as Father hooted and laughed from the perch of his mighty flying fortress.

Wally could only blink before saying, "…man, he has got way too much time on his hands."

"Well, would did ya expect?" Abby grumbled, taking out a sucker and swishing it around to calm her nerves. "He's a no-life loser."

"Is…is that our old GIHOOJACARRIER?" Kuki asked, eyes narrowing as she started to pick out similarities between Father's new fortress and their old, missing mobile cloud base. After the failed Teen-Treaty, the salvage team could not find any trace of the giant craft. Sure enough, she recognized the tear in the center, eyes widening in disbelief as it was held together by industrial-strength duct tape. "That rotten stealy-McStealer Pants!"

Abby watched as Nigel only shook his head. "Well, now what?"

Wally snapped his fingers. "Guys, we're thinking too hard about this. Numbuh 3 can just call in a Poocleear Strike."

Nigel's eyes widened at the suggestion. "We can only use those as a last resort!"

"Well, this seems last resort-y, dontcha think? The fate of the entire world's at stake 'ere." Wally countered, motioning to the fortress gaining altitude. "Jerk wants some big showdown? I say we give him 250 mega-tons of doggie doo instead. Ain't no one surviving that kinda stink!"

Abby considered the proposal. "Y'know, Numbuh 4's gotta point. Could wipe him out in one go."

"That's what I'm talkin' about!" Wally fist-pumped, thrilled that his plan was being taken seriously for once. "'Sides, I've always wanted to call in one of those things!"

Abby leaned away from him and arched a brow. "Your eagerness to commit potential war crimes is noted."

"Now why did ya hafta go and make it weird?"

As Wally and Abby bantered back and forth, Nigel found himself torn. Wally had a point – using a Poocleear Strike might be their only chance to stop Father and save millions of lives. But at the same time, Nigel couldn't shake the nagging doubt in the back of his mind.

What if Rachel was still in the manor?

But the world was at stake, and time was running out. They couldn't afford to hesitate any longer.

Taking a deep breath, Nigel looked at his friends, his heart heavy with the weight of his decision.

"Negative on that."

All looked to Kuki as she spoke. Before Wally could protest, she held up a hand and shot a wink at Nigel. "We've got a potential friendly in there. Our first job is to save kids—especially our own."

Nigel's eyes shimmered with gratitude.

"Wait, you mean to tell me this was a recuse mission this entire time?" Wally asked, agitation evident in his voice. After a moment, his face cleared and he shrugged it off. "Eh, whatever. Ain't gonna say no to more butts to kick. This whole triple-free-agent bizzo has me cravin' something simple for a change."

Nigel's eyes then locked with Abby, hesitant as her expression was unreadable. Even though Wally had agreed, even though it was ultimately Kuki's call to make, Nigel wasn't sure he could bring himself to carry through if he didn't have Abby's support. And given her history with Rachel, it was anyone's guess as to what her inner thoughts were like.

Indeed, Abby's gaze was far away, mulling over memories and old grudges as she sorted through her emotions, trying to find the decisive answer to make the right call.

Finally, she smirked at Nigel as she swirled around her sucker. "Fine by me. Numbuh 5 wasn't expectin' this to be easy anyway."

Relief flooded Nigel's system as he mouthed her a silent, "Thank you."

Wally looked up to the flying fortress. "Kay, so we're going in. Great. But how the crud are we supposed to get up there?"

Kuki looked at Nigel's boots. "Think those can carry all of us?"

"Honestly, I push it with just one of you," he admitted. His hands graced a bump in his pocket, and he smacked his forehead as he recalled Infinity's gift. "Of course, that's it! Everyone, quick, join hands."

Though confused, the others did as they were told, linking hands. They gathered in a circle, Nigel using one hand to hold onto Abby, and the other to place Wally's left hand on his shoulder. Wally looked curiously as the bald boy pulled out an odd-looking bottle of nasal spray. "Wazzat?"

"Last of Infinity's booger teleportation serum," Nigel explained as he primed the bottle. "Seems like a good time as any. I can use it to get up there, and as long as we're connected, you'll all be teleported along with me."

Kuki grimaced at the name. "Um, booger is just some fancy acronym…right?"

"It's going to be as unpleasant as it sounds," Nigel stated bluntly. "But it's the only option we have."

Kuki whined.

Abby didn't seem thrilled. "Guess we've done grosser things…"

"I bet it ain't that bad," Wally said, intrigued by the new sensation. He then shook a little as an excited jitter overtook him. "Aw man, look at this! World depending on us, off-the-wall last-minute plan-thingys out the wazoo—it really is just like old times!"

Kuki smiled, Wally's happiness was contagious. However, her smile faltered as a thought passed through her mind, and she sadly looked down and couldn't stop herself from muttering, "Almost like old times…"

The statement hung in the air, and everyone paused. A moment of silence passed between them: Nigel lowering the Galactic nasal spray and looking at the ground mournfully, Kuki hugging herself to self-soothe, and Wally breaking the chain momentarily to stuff his hands in his pockets, turn away, and kick at the ground.

Abby too, was quiet. She slowly looked up into the night sky, eyes heavy with a thousand unspoken thoughts. After a moment, she braved a smile, despite it all.

"Hoagie wouldn't want us being down on his account," she said. Her voice was soft but it demanded immediate attention from her comrades. She closed her eyes, pushing back tears as she chuckled. "He'd…he'd crack some joke about how we should be movin' our butts in gear."

Nigel and Kuki exchanged a smile and nodded in agreement.

"…yeah. Yeah, you're right. He wouldn't want us cryin' like a bunch of babies," Wally said, swallowing a sniffle as he quickly wiped his eyes. He laughed. "Bet he'd say some lame one-liner to get us going. L-Like, how's life a roller-coaster and we should buckle up. Or, how every setback is a setup for a comeback. Or, uh…oh! Maybe even something like—"

"Hang on to your underwear!"

"Yeah! That's totally something he would—AHHH!"

The four did not have time to process the new voice as shadow descended upon them and they were all scooped up in a giant fishing net. Whatever ensnared them took them high into the sky, as the ground became nothing more than a fading blip in their vision. Once it reached a certain altitude, they were jostled around as the strange aircraft pulled them up into its belly.

Once inside, the three teens and one pre-teen were unceremoniously dropped a dog pile. They groaned as they untangled their limbs and rushed to make sense of their current predicament.

"Ya can't get the jump on me, Father!" Wally snapped, swinging his first in random directions. "Wait til I get my hands on ya, you dirty sneak!"

"This isn't one of Father's ships," Nigel noted as he stood up. As he got his bearings, his eyes widened as he recognized the interior. "It's…the COOLBUS."

The interior of the bus-turned air shuttle looked just as they last recalled it: several rows of bus seats torn out in favor of arcade machine control panels, a washing-machine stealth engine humming in the back, and that old pizza sauce stain in the arm of the captain's commanding lazy boy chair. There was no mistaking it, the group had found themselves nestled in sector V's signature craft once more.

Wally scratched behind his head. "But...I thought we left it at the old treehouse when we all got transferred?"

Nigel looked at Kuki. "Did you call it in?"

Kuki shook her head. "I didn't even know it could be remote-controlled."

That only served to confuse them more. "Then how did-"

"Good evening passengers, this is your pilot speaking."

All at once, the group seized up, their eyes locked on the pilot's chair near the front of the ship, and finally noticed it was occupied.

"Tonight's forecast is looking cloudy, with a high chance of evil adult butt-kicking," the voice continued lightly. A pudgy hand flipped the dial to auto-pilot and turned his seat to face his friends with a cheeky grin. "So as fore mentioned, I suggest hanging on to your underwear, 'cause it's gonna be a bumpy ride."

The kids didn't know how to react. How should they react? Not a move was made, not an arm was pinched because they were terrified: if they made the slightest flinch and the boy in front of them disappeared like some cruel dream, then there would be no coming back. Not for any of them.

But the seconds ticked on and he was still there. With each passing moment, his smile felt more real. It was Abby who took the shaky first steps, tears falling freely. She hardly registered she was crying as she whispered, "It can't be..."

But it was. Hoagie stood, sporting his classic attire, albeit more hastily thrown together and sporting grease and chili stains. His light blue shirt and beige pants were newly fitted to accommodate his growth. His goggles sported new sparkling lenses, clear enough to see his twinkling eyes underneath. His aviator cap nestled comfortably atop his head, a tuft of chestnut auburn hair poking out above his forehead. The only thing that stood out to them was the new, long dusty brown lab coat hugging his portly frame.

But that was it. Otherwise, there he was. Just as they remembered him. Hoagie awkwardly chuckled, raising his hand to wave. "Hi, guys!"

It was so quiet in the COOLBUS that one could hear a pin drop.

Then...

"HOOOOOAGIIIIEEE!" Wally was a blubbering, bawling mess as he zipped forward, crashing into Hoagie with so much force they both toppled over. Wally buried his face in Hoagie's chest, squeezing tight as snot mingled with hot tears. "I-It's you...it's r-really you, r-right?"

Hoagie was taken back a bit but then grinned as he decided to take it in stride. "The one and only!"

"Punch me."

"...I'm sorry, what?"

"Punch me!" Wally shouted again. "I-I need to know this ain't no cruddy dream!"

The portly boy recovered, softly laughing as he gently slugged Wally's shoulder. "That good enough for ya?"

Wally sniffled, eyes watery and lips trembly as he analyzed every corner of his best pal's face. "You...you ain't some robot, are ya?"

"Man, I wish. Do you know how cool it'd be to have a laser cannon arm? I could totally rock the cyborg vibe," Hoagie joked. His smile became earnest as he ruffled Wally's shaggy hair. "Gotta say tho, you're a lot more hug-happy than I remembered, pal. I expected this sort of thing from Numbuh 3-THERE WE GO!"

Hoagie wheezed as Kuki suddenly appeared at his side, trapping him in an almost deathly tight bear hug as she cried and shook him around.

"You're back!" Kuki wailed, her eyes never ceasing faucets of tears as she snuggled him harder than any of her prized rainbow monkeys. "You're back, you're back, you're baaa-aack!"

"Just as...hard to breathe...as ever..." Hoage struggled to get out under the pressure of Kuki's embrace. She quickly released him, and sheepishly shuffled her toes as he took deep breaths. He belly laughed as he pulled her into his own bear hug, though he could never match her unique brand of hugocity. "Aw, c'mere you! You haven't changed a bit, Kooks!"

"I-I h-have t-t-too," she whined, too caught up in all to put on her serious mask. "I-I g-got t-taller, c-cuter, and-HIC-and-HIC-I'm the Supreme-HIC-Supreme Lead-eeer!"

"That's awesome," Hoagie praised, patting her back as she succumbed to a bout of hiccups. Once she calmed down, he held her at arm's length and smirked. "Bet those kids have been driving you bananas, huh?"

"Super bananas," Kuki giggled, composing herself. She recoiled as a wave of guilt hit her. "I-I'm so sorry. If I had been stronger at the grove-"

"Nu-uh! No bad jokes on this flight, kid. 'Sides, you're probably the strongest of us all. I've seen what happens when we get between you and a thermostat."

Kuki managed a small smile as he pulled away. Hoagie then turned his attention to Abby, who had walked up in an almost trance-like state. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape as she stared at him.

"Hey, Abby," Hoagie greeted. She didn't respond and he began to drum his fingers nervously against the back of his hands as he folded them together. "Um, I'm sorry it took me so long. B-But hey, sometimes you gotta wait for the best punchlines, right?" When she remained silent, he face palmed. "Gah, sorry. I know you hate my jokes but I just wanted to-"

He was quieted as she fell into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"I don't hate your jokes, baby," she hoarsely, frame trembling with broken sobs. "I...I never did."

Hoagie slowly hugged her back, closing his eyes and rubbing soothing circles at the small of her back. "I had a funny feeling you didn't..."

A tender silence befell the COOLBUS, the other kids letting the two have their moment. Kuki covered her mouth to muffle her happy sobs, and Wally's hand gripped her shoulder in support as he contorted his face to staunch his waterworks.

"I'm sorry," Abby whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Got a feeling I'm gonna hear that a lot," Hoagie gently mused. He gently pulled back, using his thumb to flick away her tears across her cheeks. "But let me try and get ahead of it, yeah? It was never your fault."

"But it was," Abby said, flinching and casting her gaze downward. "I ordered you to go in alone."

"I mean, sure, a good operative knows when to follow an order, and an even better one knows when to ignore a dumb one. That's true," Hoagie recalled. He gently cupped her cheek to have their eyes meet as he lifted his goggles. "But a better-better operative knows to follow their heart and do what's right. You know me, probably would've gone in running anyway. You taught us that. Your orders saved all those kids that day. You made the right call, Abby."

She tried to smile, but the lingering whispers of that nasty voice inside her remained. "...but you lost almost two years of your life because of me."

"And because of you? I got the rest of my life back. To spend it with the gang," he said. "With you."

That hateful voice died with a whimper, drowned out by her relieved laughter. "You gotta be kiddin'. You still wanna stick with Abby after everything? Boy, you crazy."

"Like a fox," he said with a wink. "And I never kid."

Throwing caution out the airlock, Abby leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. It was short and just the right amount of sweet. She pulled away, hiding her blush with another laugh as she committed his dumbfounded expression to memory. One she intended to cherish forever.

"Whoa," Hoagie whispered, fingers lightly tracing his lips. His cheeks reddened and his smile could light up a gazillion treehouses. "Maybe I should go on suicide runs more often!"

Abby frowned, using her hat to playfully smack him. "You better not. That's an order, baby."

"I promise to try and follow it."

"What do you mean 'try'!?"

Near the back, Nigel was silent as he watched his friends reunite. The sight warmed his heart, and he was so incredibly happy Kuki, Wally, and Abby got Hoagie back. After all the suffering and hardship they endured, they were more than owed this moment. A moment he desperately wanted to share with them all.

But he couldn't. He wasn't worthy. Misguided or not, plenty of blame was being thrown around for Hoagie's previous condition, and he felt his friends were heavily underestimating his share of it. Because he left, he put them all at risk. It was his disobedience that provoked Father's initial attack on the Grove. Father took his vengeance out on Hoagie because Nigel was too busy playing up in the grand cosmos.

Nigel slowly settled in the back of the bus, content to stew and rest in his failure as a leader. If it wasn't for him, there would be no need for tears in the first place. What right did he have to join them in their merriment? Abby had always been wrong. What happened at Grove or Hoagie was never her fault.

It was his and his alone.

"Y'know, every pity party needs a pooper."

Nigel was startled from his thoughts.

There above him, smiling, was Hoagie. "Good thing I invited myself, huh?"

Nigel trembled. "You came..."

Hoagie's smile softened. "You called."

Nigel's lips wobbled into a hesitant smile. "Just like that?"

Hoagie extended his hand, tears welling behind his goggles. "Just like that."

They grabbed each other's hands and melded into each other. Two best friends since kindergarten, and two best friends now and until the end of time.

"Y'know me, cap'n, I'm easy!" Hoagie laughed as he rubber under his goggles, clearing up his tears, "But hey, if you really wanna make it up to me, you can buy us the first round at Lime Ricky's when we're done here."

Nigel shook his head, bemused. "I'm not exactly liquid in Earth currency right now, but I'll see what I can do."

"Um, hate to break it to ya mates," Wally stepped up. "But ol' Ricky closed up shop last year."

"WHAT!?" Hoagie reeled, hands fleeing to his head. "Why did he shut down?"

"His heart wasn't in it anymore and I decided to funnel resources from caffeine smuggling to Grove recovery," Kuki shyly admitted. "Plus...soda running wasn't the same without you."

"Well, that just ain't gonna fly!" Hoagie said, tugging up his sleeves as a determined look entered his eyes. "You call Ricky and tell him to prepare for a grand re-opening, cause Hoagie P. Gilligan ain't gonna live in a world without his favorite soda speakeasy."

"Figures. Not even back ten minutes and he's got soda on the mind," Wally said as he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "It's him, alright."

"C'mon, Numbuh 4, it'll be like the good ol' days." Hoagie pulled the boy close, using his other arm to wave and set the scene. "You and me, lighting a fire under Fizz's butt as we ride into the sunset with eleventy-buhmillions gallons of sweet, bubbly contraband."

"Not a soda guy anymore, mate," Wally shrugged. "Kooks turned me on to tea. S'not that bad."

Hoagie looked at Wally as if he had grown a second head. "It's like I don't know who you are anymore!"

"Aw, don't be a wet blanket, Numbuh 2," Kuki gushed. "The three of us could have a real tea party to celebrate!"

"I'd rather go back to being Delightful than sip on that hoity-toity sludge," Hoagie huffed with an upturned nose. When the two gave him heated glares, he flinched. "Uh, too soon?"

As he watched them childishly bicker over beverages, Nigel collapsed in relief, pleasantly surprised to find himself nestling back into his old command chair. His fingers dug into the leather, old fond memories of his team's antics seamlessly fusing with new ones playing out right in front of him.

This moment? It was everything. It was perfect.

An elbow nestled into his shoulder, and he looked to see Abby cooly leaning against him.

"Now ain't that something," she tenderly mused. She redoned her cap, twisting it around as she looked head fondly. "Looks like ya got 'em all back after all, boss."

"Yes," Nigel agreed, his hand coming up to hold onto his second-in-command's arm. "...we did."

"-Okay, maybe I'll make an exception for a cool glass of Southern-style iced sweet tea, but that's where I draw the line!"

"That's just sugar water, mate! Good to know ya lost all sense of culture while ya been out of the game."

"BOTH OF YOU ZIP IT!" Kuki shouted. Both boys straightened and she massaged her temples. "We're losing focus. Numbuh 2, we're super duper glad you're better, but what are you doing here? How are you here? How did you know we were going after Father?"

"...oh, right!" Hoagie said, suddenly remembering the current dilemma. "Well, don't exactly know how I shook off the delightfulization, the memories of the last few years just hit me like a dodgeball. Most of it was just me in my room. Alone. Glimpses of my loved ones mourning me like I was dead." He slowly looked out the window, a haunted look befalling his face. "… gonna need professional help to sort that out. Anyway! The last thing I remembered was you guys, sounding like you were in trouble, so I, uh, just came running! As for Father? Well, all bad roads somehow lead to that jerkface, so I followed my gut, and boy did it pay off."

He clapped his hand, hopping over a panel, pulling up his goggles again to let it scan his eye. Hoagie turned back to his friends, an excited grin spreading from ear to ear. "Sorry to cut it close, but hey, everyone knows sometimes ya gotta be fashionably late to these things. Besides, I brought the party favors!"

The wall lifted, revealing a dazzling array of never-before-seen 2x4 gadgetry. Kuki and Wally buzzed like children in a toy store, and Abby let loose a low whistle as her finger trailed along the barrel of a strung-together rifle. "Damn, where'd all this come from?"

"Oh, just some old experiments I never got to finish. Didn't exactly meet Deep Sea Lab safety standards, so I stashed 'em in the old treehouse since we never reassigned a new sector there."

Abby narrowed her eyes. "You mean to tell me you were working on unauthorized 2x4 technology behind my back?"

Hoagie laughed a guilty, nervous laugh as his eyes darted back and forth. "Well…when you say it like that…"

"Boy, you lucky you just came out of a coma," Abby scolded. Her expression lit up, and her reservations were forgotten as she greedily swiped a shiny weapon. "Oh, hell yes. Numbuh 5'll take this one."

"No fair!" Wally whined, trying to jerk the weapon away from her. "I saw that one first!"

"And I grabbed it first, so nah!" Abby said, sticking out her tongue. "'Sides, Numbuh 5's callin' Supreme Dibs!"

"You can't do that!"

"Can too!"

"You're both acting silly," Kuki interrupted. Abby and Wally looked down, ashamed. Which was the opening Kuki needed as she swiped the weapon with a devious giggle. "I'm the Supreme Leader, so I get Super Supreme Dibs!"

"Fellas, fellas," Hoagie pacified with a knowing smirk. "I brought enough for the whole class."

Nigel chuckled, propping up his arm and resting his head against his fist. Just like old times indeed.

His eyes wandered to the window, gazing into the night sky. He frowned upon seeing the Delightful Manor in the distance. Father still had plenty of cruel tricks left up his sleeve, and he was determined not to go down without a bare-knuckle brawl.

The boy's mind then wandered beyond Father. He, ultimately, wasn't their main concern. No, he was just the loudest, most annoying obstacle in their way. He would not give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his threat level. No, Nigel wandered to the greater scope of his mission: the evidence he needed to retrieve, the broadcast scheduled to commence in a few short hours, the Important's One response, and how the entire fate of Earth and its Kids Next Door rested on his shoulders.

He then hesitated as his mind wandered to Rachel…

He questioned what was the right thing to do.

He wondered about the impossible choice he seemed destined to make.

…he was afraid to find out how their story would finally come to an end.

Hoagie cut through his thoughts, presenting a familiar pair of sunglasses. Nigel gasped, seeing his pilot and the rest of his team had gathered around him.

Hoagie smirked as he passed the sunglasses to his old leader. "I hear there's a dress code for these shindigs."

Abby leaned on the opposite side of Nigel's chair, smirking as Kuki and Wally fell in behind her, up and rearing to go. "Last chance to put on your Sunday best."

Nigel stared at his old shades. It was like he held the weight of the world in the palm of his hand. So much was riding on this. It all ended tonight.

There would be no going back.

In the darkness of the lens, he saw a short bald boy, plaid in a crimson turtleneck, gray cargo shorts, and rocket boots ready to go at a moment's notice. But this time, he wasn't wearing sunglasses. The boy's coal blue eyes bore at him, not a hint of emotion betraying the inner workings of his mind.

You made a promise, the young boy spoke. His voice was calm, but solid as steel as he looked up to the older teen. A promise to keep kids safe everywhere. Give up your childhood so they can keep theirs.

Nigel said nothing, inhaling sharply in his nose. It was the oath he made when he joined the Kids Next Door. The oath that led him to this very moment in time.

But you're changing. You're getting older, the child frowned. Are you ready to walk down the other path? Are you ready to grow up?

Thoughts of childhood danced across his mind. Thoughts of savory cherry ice cream, late Saturday nights past bedtime, and summer vacations that never seemed long enough. He thought of his team, his friends as they laughed on the playground before sprinting off to fight cheese ninjas and sentient mustache monsters. He thought of fishing trips with his dad, the taste of Christmas cookies with his mom, and warm nights in his room as his parents stayed vigil to chase away nightmares and the Boogeyman.

He thought of Lizzie. The innocent, once-in-a-lifetime love only a kid could have. A puppy love that blossomed into a relationship filled with deep hugs, soft hand-holding, and stolen embarrassed kisses when he thought no one was looking. He thought of her smile and thought of her tears when he realized too late he took it all for granted.

So caught up in those thoughts, he found it hard to leave. Hard to envision a world where he got old and had to say goodbye to all that forever.

But did he have to?

If everything went to plan, if everything worked out, then maybe he could keep those thoughts. He could hold on to those feelings. He could go back into the stars, find a fabled "cure" for aging, and make the dream of Peter Pan a reality. To stay a kid eternal and live in those wonderful, blissful memories day in and day out beyond the end of time.

A nudge at his side snapped him from those thoughts. He saw the determined face of Kuki, a girl almost overwhelmed with her responsibility, but despite all odds, still did what she believed was right to help those she loved.

He looked up to see Wally, smirking and rearing to go. Despite being abandoned, despite feeling forgotten, he fought through it all and battled to remain at his friends' side and carry them through the fires of adversity.

Abby leaned against his shoulder, brow quirked. A girl who despite all the tragedy, betrayal, and heartbreak life threw her way, she found a way to forgive herself and hoist her colors high to guide her family through the dark into a hopeful new dawn.

Hoagie waited with a knowing smile, his steadfast faith in his comrades never faltering. His first thought after being released from pure hell was not of rest and recovery but of determination and the absolute will to fly his friends to the other side of troubled skies.

His friends, his sector V, who despite having all the reason to stay in their lanes and go about their lives, still clawed and scratched their way back to him when he had once been ready to leave them forever.

Nigel saw and thought of them, thought of the unknowns ahead, the horrors and potential suffering that came from saying goodbye to childhood and stepping into overbearing adulthood.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He thought of Rachel.

You need to get your priorities straight, a young girl once said to him.

"I am," he quietly answered to both her and the young boy in front of him.

Then what are you waiting for? The mission's not over yet. The young boy smirked, then went into a salute before he faded away. Good luck, Numbuh 1.

Nigel put on his sunglasses.

"All right, team," he said, standing as his hands folded behind his back. His posture straightened as he turned to stare up at the floating fortress beyond the COOLBUS's windshield. "We're about to embark. I won't sugarcoat it, things ahead are looking pretty grim."

Hoagie fingered his shirt's collar. "This is a code: WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE?"

Nigel curtly nodded. "Most definitely."

Kuki rubbed her tummy. "Will there be time for snacks?"

Nigel shook his head. "Not likely."

Wally pounded his fists together. "How many butts I gotta kick?"

Nigel stroked his chin. "Too many to count."

Abby popped a sucker in her mouth. "What're our odds lookin' like?"

"Slim to none," Nigel said as he turned to face the four operatives. "But the fate of our friend rests on our shoulders. A fellow operative is about to make the most gihugic mistake a kid could make, and it's up to us to knock some sense into her and bring her home. If we fail, it's not just the end of her, not just the end of us—but the end of the entire world as kids know it."

The four shared glances at each other. Kuki blinked before saying, "Wow. That sounds super serious."

"Indeed. It is super, duper, serious. Once we cross the threshold, there's no going back. So with that in mind, I ask you all one last time…" Nigel lowered his sunglasses, his eyes peering into their very souls. "Are you in? Or are you old?"

Abby smirked as he put her hand in. "Five."

Wally cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders before putting his hand in. "Four."

With a face-splitting grin, Kuki balanced on one leg as she leaned in to put her hand in. "Three."

Hoagie wiped at his nose, adjusted his goggles, and tightened his belt before putting his hand in. "Two."

Nigel's hand came down and joined with them. "One."

The preamble was over.

It was showtime.

"Kids Next Door?" Nigel smirked. "Battle Stations!"

Because don't you know that I believe?

That we can fly up in the sky!

One day we may just,

Be able to touch down on a star!

Off the road we have to go,

The roadless path we shall proceed until the end of our roles!

There's no turning back for us,

'Cause we will never give up!

---

Now loading:

kids next door mission

operation:

r.e.c.e.p.t.i.o.n.

Rallying

Everyone's

Camaraderie

Exceptionally

Prevails

Through

Insidious

Oppressive

Negativity

transmission interrupted

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A/N: Sorry for the long chapters. I know it can be a lot.

From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank each and every one who's still reviewing this.

Particular shout-outs to PhantomLordHelix, mella, Chain123, Dragonkeeper10, k1ss-m3-aga1n, Mushroom Kingdom Warrior, , Fleeting Admiral, JDH1080, Dddonutz, Sssspppiiidddeerr, the gaming zombie writer, Lord Alania, Tragikly, fresh prince1, Numbuh 10-4, outcast247, and Nyame. I write for myself first and foremost these days, wanting to tell stories I'd like to see in the world, but your reviews since I've returned have meant so much to me. I've looked forward to every one of them, and it's helped me want to deliver a conclusion you can all be happy with. I sincerely hope I won't disappoint you.

And to everyone else I didn't mention, anyone who's left a review on this story for the past fourteen years, if you're still around, I want to thank you too. I'm sorry you had to wait so long.

There is a lot of personal pain wrapped up in this story for me. It was one I never intended to finish, and have come close to deleting it several times over the years. I was a kid when I first started writing this, and while I can't remember exactly how this was supposed to go, as I read back on it, I feel that, deep down, that kid wasn't going to give this story a happy ending because I think he stopped believing in those.

Sorry for rambling and I'm also sorry to ask you all to wait just a little bit more. Life comes first and there are things I need to do in the next few weeks. Good things, don't worry.

But when I come back, there will be no more cliffhangers or long waits. We'll finally put a bow on this.

Pinky promise.

Thank you all so much.