Two Weeks In Hell

[pentical]

I wrote this story back while season 2 was just starting. It's my favorite fanfic that I've written, but I've never posted it on Fanfiction.net (problems with recognizing italics and stuff. Everything in italics is Nigel's thoughts.) But seeing as how the series is coming to a close, I'd like to see what you people think of it. It takes place during Operation: GROW-UP in the two weeks that Nigel is an adult. Since it's 36 pages long, I'll be posting it one chapter at a time.

Here's chapter one:

Chapter one:
Ramblings of a middle-aged ten year old


It’s so cold.

I try to curl up tighter against the wall. All I have to keep me warm are these scraps of clothing. Strange to think that they fit me perfectly this morning. Now the fabric is barely able to cover my drastically altered body. I’m disgusted by my body now, all blown up and stretched out. I don’t recognize it, I don’t feel comfortable in it. But I’m stuck this way.

There’s nothing I can do. They were planning this for who knows how long, and they saved this horrible fate respectively for me. I could tell by the look in their eyes they wanted me to suffer the most. They orchestrated the perfect way to do it.

I can’t recall the last time I felt so helpless. The horrible glassy blue eyes, laughing at me, still hauntingly fresh in my memory. They robbed me of what was most precious to me without a single hint of pity. They ripped it all away in a single moment. How could it be over so quickly? We put up a valiant fight, using the very best of our technology and training, but in the end all of it was worthless, just as I am now.

It makes the lump in my throat tighten all the more thinking about what has happened. I can’t block the images from flashing through my mind. All the fire, the flying wood and metal. It’s all over now. I’m thankful my friends are alive…what are they doing now? Have they returned to their respective homes? Are they still at the treehouse starting to rebuild? I want to find them, see them again. But not like this. I dare not to return to them like this. They still have the Kids Next Door, whether they choose to continue on or not they still have each other. I wouldn’t want to risk them getting into trouble, even if they did want to help me, I don’t deserve it. It’s all my fault…

I don’t care how they ended up with it, from the moment I saw it in their hands I knew what it was and what they intended to do with it. But it was my fault they had it in the first place.

What was I thinking!?

I knew what such a device was capable of, why didn’t I destroy it the second I had the chance? Tossing an age changing ray out the window, yeah, that was smart. How could I have been so careless? I made such a stupid mistake and now I’m paying for it 100 times over.

My head still hurts.

Cradling it I absentmindedly brush my hand against my face. I had forgotten the itchy whiskers I’m now growing. My skin is all saggy, pasty and wrinkled. Disgusting. I can barely bring myself to look at what I’ve become. My vision is blurry, I’ve lost my glasses, the shades synonymous with my role as leader. I wouldn’t dare wear them again like this. My dreams are dead, nothing left to do now but sink silently into my role as an adult.

Easier said then done.

I have no high school education, no training in anything but adult fighting. Not much good that will get me now. I’m practically… no, literally homeless. I can’t go home, not even to get some clothes that fit. What if my mother saw me? She wouldn’t recognize me. She might even call the cops.

Yeah, mom, don’t worry. It’s me, Nigel. I’ve been… turned into an adult.

She’d never believe me. I wouldn’t blame her. I barely believe it. I wouldn’t trust it if some adult appeared at my doorstep claiming to be some kid I knew. I’d slam the door right in his face. Not a comforting notion now that I’m on the other side of that scenario.

I’ve already sworn I wouldn’t ask my friends for help. I know the rules…

I hate the rules! I’m scared!

I’m a scared little boy trapped in an adult body all alone in an alley way huddled next to a brick wall and a dumpster.

How long have I been here? My watch fell off since my wrist became too thick for it. It’s nighttime now, I can tell that much, but I can’t tell how late. I chuckle at the irony for only a moment. How many times did I fight for the right for kids to stay up past bedtime? I don’t have to fight for that anymore, but knowing this makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Stars flicker fuzzily in the distance. They don’t even look real. So small and far away. The air is still chilly from the storm. I can’t stop myself from shivering. The ground is still moist and some seeps into the seat of my pants as I sit on the hard concrete sending frosty pangs up my spine. I feel achy and sore, either from the battle or sudden transformation or just being old or everything combined. Whatever. I’m starting to feel too tired to care. Maybe if I go to sleep I’ll wake up and this will have been nothing but a horrible nightmare…

And maybe rainbow monkeys will fly out of my butt…

Age changing ray or not, I’d still grow up one day. It all makes my life seem more pointless. What am I doing? I can’t think this way. It’s just been a long day. I need some rest. I need to straighten my mind out, think things over in the morning. I’ve been in tougher problems then this…haven’t I? I haven’t been alone like this, in this sort of situation, before.

What was that?

“Is someone there?”

Was that my voice? It sounds so wrong. Course and raspy, like someone put my voice box through a grater. I sound like an old man… I am an old man. How old am I now? I could die of old age before I’m even a teenager.

Will that be so bad? Secretly it’s something the darkest part of my heart has wanted ever since I knew I’d reach adolescence.

Why am I thinking such things?! I don’t want to die! Especially not like this. I’m so confused. I have too many thoughts cluttering my brain, tearing me apart. I shouldn’t have to feel this way. For heavens sake, I’m only ten years old!

And I’m alone…

And I’m scared…

… I want my mommy…


to be continued

[faircod1965]

That's a nice story, the details of this are well written too.

[pentical]

Chapter 2:
The Gift Horse

The sweet melody tinkled though the suburban air. Chimes playing “Pop Goes the Weasel” in ingrained familiarity. Its vehicular source appeared over the horizon, dignified and identified by the by the giant fiberglass ice cream cone adorning its top.

The gruff, overweight driver peered out his windows, not for potential customers, but for reconnaissance. Taking his fill, he removed the microphone from his CB radio and spoke freely.

“This is Hagen in truck 12, route 7b. I’m currently on Living-Hill Lane... And house number 15 is a real mess.” He stared out his right hand side window at the smoldering wreck that was once the glorious center of vigilantism. Thick branches and various scraps strewn haphazardly across the property resembling the junkyard the materials once originated from. “Looks like a bomb was dropped on this place.”

“Very good,” a deep savory voice flowed from the other end of the radio. “And any sign of our pest problem?”

“No, sir.” The ice cream man smirked, “Not an urchin in sight.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” The dark voice cooed.

“Nice to hear you happy sir.” The grizzly man cheerfully replied. If the boss was happy maybe he’d get a bonus come payday.

Something streaking across the street caught his attention. He mumbled to himself,

“Now that’s a shame, this used to be a nice neighborhood.”

“Come again?” His boss answered back.

Hagen jumped in his seat, realizing he had not only said his thoughts aloud but into the radio. Best not to leave the boss waiting.

“Well, I, just saw a hobo, you see.”

“A hobo?” His employer inquired.

“Well, some kind of homeless guy. Dressed really bad too, like he stole clothes from a kid.”

“A child’s clothes you say?” The boss’s tone changed to devilishly intrigued.

“Hardly fits him at all.” The driver replied watching the figure of a tall, thin, ghostly pale man digging through a garbage can on the curb in a sleep deprived haze.

“Hagen,” the boss suddenly commanded, “I want you to give our friend there a ride.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Hagen wasn’t one to argue with the boss; heck, sometimes he even took orders from the boss’s five creepy kids, but give a hobo a ride? He was an ice cream man, not a chauffeur.

“You heard me,” the boss insisted, “Pick him up and give him a ride. Perhaps even…offer him a job. Help the poor fellow out. After all, we’re all civilized adults here.” There was a satisfied chuckle at the end of his statement, as if there was some kind of joke involved that only he knew about.

Hagen shrugged, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt. Better then having this scraggly looking man wandering about the neighborhood scaring off potential customers.

-+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+

Nigel stared at the soggy, half eaten pizza crust he had found and was debating in his mind the value of his life and how soon he was going to vomit if he had to be exposed to this smell a moment longer. With a disgusted and depressed sigh he let the crust fall back into the trash.

Before he even heard the chimes he felt the paranoid sensation of someone watching, following, out to get him. Out of reflex his hand chose a trashcan lid as a shield as he ducked behind the plastic receptacles. His muscles tensed even more when the white truck stopped right where he was.

What do they want? Did the adults send you to finish me off?

He clenched his eyes shut, expecting the worse.

“Hey you.” A surprisingly friendly voice said, “You uh, need a ride or something?”

You have GOT to be kidding me…

Nigel cocked his brow and peeked over the cans at the bearded ice cream man staring down at him from his truck.

“Excuse me?” he replied hoarsely, dropping his shield, the sound of his own voice reminding him of his current situation.

“It’s no limo, but it’s better then walking the streets like that.”

Nigel thought a moment about this offer. Should he go with this man? Who knew way an ice cream man would have any reason to offer a ride to a random stranger, especially one looking the way he did. But on the other hand, was there anything to gain from staying where he was? Either way, whatever the outcome, things couldn’t get worse.

“Whatever.” He told the driver in an uncaring tone.

The ice cream man vanished from the window and reappeared at the back of the truck, opening the double doors in a welcoming fashion.

“Welcome aboard.” He invited, replacing his butt in the driver’s seat as Nigel entered the vehicle. The double doors slammed shut by themselves causing the Brit to jump, his internal alarm bells going off again.

“You can sit back there, I’m still on duty so it might be better if customers didn’t see you. No offence.”

“No, It’s ok.” Nigel calmly said, trying not to notice his reflection in the glass of the freezer. “I guess I may frighten a few children like this.”

Hagen chuckled,
“Yeah, might actually be worth stopping for some kids to see that happen.”

Nigel furrowed his brow and remained silent.

For the next half hour the commanding sound was the sweet jingle playing from the truck’s loudspeakers. The unsettling vibe Hagen was getting from his passenger was enough to make him speak, if just to cut the tension.

“If you want something from the freezer you can go right ahead.”

Reminded that he hadn’t eaten for a whole day, Nigel thankfully dug through the freezer and found a fudgy pop that he quietly suckled.

“So,” The ice cream man continued, “Homeless huh? That’s gotta stink.”

“No, I rather enjoy digging around in garbage and freezing to death at night.” Nigel quipped with toxic sarcasm.

The man driving bit his lip, so much for making small talk. Another awkward silence. Nigel discarded his Popsicle stick on the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Gazing out the window, he took in that the truck was now a good distance away from his neighborhood. No walking home from here, if home still existed. He looked up at the back of the driver’s head.

“Why are you doing this for me?” he finally spoke.

“I dunno,” Hagen didn’t take his eyes off the road, “You just looked like you could use a ride.”

“I…don’t really have… anywhere to go.”

“Thought as much. No problem though” He paused a moment, recalling the final portion of his boss’s strange set of orders. “I bet you could use a job.”

Nigel snapped his head up. Did he just hear that?

“A what? You’re offering me… A job?”

Hagen shrugged,

“Yeah, why not? You could use one right? I mean, it’s better then living on the streets.”

“Well, this is so sudden, you don’t even know if I have any qualifications, you don’t even know who I am… What’s the catch?”

The driver snickered at Nigel’s suddenly suspicious tone.

“What catch? Let me tell you buddy, we’re desperate.” Nigel’s interest piqued. “About a month ago there was this… incident. Some bratty kids jumped a truck, drove it off the road, broke into the factory. When the story spread, it scared off a couple of our drivers. So, now we need as many as we can get.”

Nigel suddenly felt hot. Playing with the collar of his tight sweater. He cleared his throat with a cough.

“So what about it?” Hagen offered, “Good pay, roof over your head, all the tutti frutti you can eat…”

I need this job, but do I really want to be an ice cream man?

“…It’s a pretty sweet gig.”

I don’t want to go back to the streets, but those ice cream men are evil.

“I…don’t know…”

This may be the only chance I get. I can’t go back.

“All… alright. I’ll take it.”

“That’s the spirit! Trust me, you’re going to love it at TastyTaste.”


[to be continued]

[pentical]

Chapter 3:
The Best Laid Plans of Man and Child

“This is it! Isn’t it just beautiful?” Hagen’s voice echoed through the hollow ice cream storage tank room.

Nigel didn’t really look around. He had been here before, and the only thing that had changed was that the Ice cream monster mess had been successfully cleaned up.

“Yeah, lovely…” his voice was anything but enthusiastic.

“Hey Hagen!” A voice called from the other end of the room. “Shift run long or something?”

Heads turned to the short, nerdy looking ice cream man walking towards them. Nigel bit his lip; he knew this guy. This was the same man he and his friends had threatened on the top of a moving ice cream truck a month ago.

“Hey, Jerry!” The larger man slapped the smaller one on the back, almost knocking off his glasses. “Was just running an errand for the boss.”

“Who’s this guy?” the ashen haired fellow inquired, looking Nigel over with scrutiny.

Hagen leaned over and carefully whispered,

“He’s the errand.”

“Ohhhh…”

“Jerry, this is our new rookie.”

“Him?” Jerry adjusted his glasses and gave the stranger a closer look.

Nigel could feel the eyes burning right through him. He was going to be found out, he just knew it! And then what? Back to the streets? Or worse? They could torture him for information, probe him brain in unspeakable manners.

Please don’t recognize me…

“Hope he cleans up well.”

Huh?

The shorter man held out his hand in a chummily manner.

“ Nice to meet ya.”

Whew.

Nigel hesitantly shook the waiting and thankfully benign hand. He wiped some fresh sweat from his forehead as Hagen shoved a clipboard into his hand.

“Here you go. Just fill that out and you’ll be all set.”

“Uh…Alright…” He took up the papers and looked them over. Fuzzy letters stared back at him, causing him to squint, holding the paper out at arms length trying to read but only succeeding to look ridiculous.

“Something wrong?” His coworker- to-be asked.

“Nothing…I just can’t see this very well…”

Hagen took the clipboard.

“No prob, we got optical here. Dental too. Comes in handy.”

“You mean, it isn’t a problem?”

“Heck no,” Jerry answered with a chuckle, “We’ve hired guys worse off then you.”

The beefy guy clicked his pen and put it to the forms.

“I can fill this out for you. So what’s you’re name?”

Should I tell them my real name? Does it matter? They only know me by my numbuh anyway…and I’m never going to be called that ever again…

He hung his head and stated,

“Nigel Uno.”

“Nigel, huh?” Jerry gave that suspicious look again. Nigel’s heart stopped. Had the ice cream man figured him out? He could see the connection being made in his brain through the expression in his bespectacled eyes. Jerry smiled with revelation.

“I thought you sounded British!”

Nigel could have almost fallen over, as if a bullet had just whizzed past his ear. He chuckled nervously, playing with his hands.

“Hahah, you got me…”

+_+_+_+__+_+_+_+_+_+__+_+_+_+_+

“Hey everybody! Come over and meet Nigel. He’s gonna be our newest driver.”

The lounge was huge and had more adults in it then was Nigel’s liking. All of the large, aging men stopped what they had been doing; arm wrestling, checkers, snacking: to come over and greet the newest member to their ranks. The boy turned man forced suppression on his natural instincts to make some outright nasty remark. These were his future coworkers, he had to make a good impression, had to fit in.

The men exchanged greetings and shook his hand. He smiled, but couldn’t shake the sick, uncomfortable feeling he had deep inside.

“Um, hello.” He smiled falsely.

“Nigel here’s from England.” Jerry stated as if it was his greatest discovery.

“He doesn’t look too much like a proper chap.” A younger, blond man joked. A few around chortled.

“Hey, go easy on the guy.” Jerry warned, “We found him on the streets.”

“Oh wonderful, tell everyone about my deficiencies. You’re a bunch of prizes yourselves, I’m sure.”

Blank faces.

Did I just say that aloud?

“Hey! New guy’s got attitude. I like him.”
The biggest of the ice cream men, hulking with a five o’clock shadow, playfully punched Nigel in the arm. He held in his yelp of pain and grimaced with false cheer.

“Didn’t I tell ya?” Jerry grinned, “You’ll fit in just fine.”

“Great.” Nigel stammered, feeling a bit overwhelmed. The ice cream men were just too close for comfort.

“You sound like a pretty smart guy.” A random ice cream man inquired. “How’d you end up on the streets?”

“I … made a few mistakes in my youth.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Eh, who hasn’t?” Another guy agreed, “You think any of us wanted to be ice cream men? I wanted to be a fireman, ever since I was a little kid. But they told me I wasn’t fit enough,” He began to sob, “All I wanted to do was play with the siren and the flashing lights. Is that so much to ask!?” His fellow workers invited him to cry on their shoulders. The biggest of them turned to Nigel, who was eying the situation with a confused stare.

“Me, I wanted to be a gym teacher. But the PTA at the time said I was too tough on the tykes. Throw one dodge ball at a kid’s face and it’s goodbye teacher’s license.” He snorted, “Worth it though, whiney little brat deserved it.”

Nigel felt his fists tighten. The ice cream man continued.

“Ask any guy here and you’ll get the same story. This is a place of broken dreams and waffle cones. All of us had something and lost it all. If it weren’t for the boss…” at the mention of which, all the ice cream men removed their paper hats to place them over their hearts. “If it weren’t for him, we’d be out on our butts. But he took us in, gave us our jobs and we’ve been better off ever since.”

Hate dissolved into curiosity, who ever this boss was, he certainly sounded benevolent. And as much as Nigel hated to admit it, he owed this boss for giving him too, a chance.

“So tell us,” Jerry asked, “What did you do before you ended up on the streets?”

Nigel wasn’t sure how to answer this. Just the mention of his past brought back painful memories of treasures he would never again have. His eyes gazed the ground.

“I worked…with children.”

The entire room filled with the laughter of full-grown men. The hulky man slapped him on the back and put his arm around his shoulder. He’d have to get used to that.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Trust me, you’re going to love this job! You’ll never have to cater to another snot-nosed brat ever again, it’s great!”

I’ll never help another kid again…

Words failed to reach Nigel’s mouth. He looked around at all the happy ice cream men standing about the room, ready to accept him into their family.

No one is expecting me to…

He felt like the air was refusing to reach his brain. All he could think about was the unsettling reality weighing down on him. Dread settled in his heart. He was to become the enemy…

“Hey, Uno!” A familiar voice shook him out of his thoughts. Hagen came marching in, a white bundle in his arms. “Just got through with the boss. He read over your application and you’re in!” He tossed the bewildered Brit the folded uniform of the Tasty Taste Ice cream man. The other men congratulated their new companion and coworker.

The tug of an anonymous smile played on his lips. Was he happy? Guilty? The pallid clothes in his possession, the final deal was set. His soul was theirs.

“Better go suit up,” Hagen suggested, “You start first thing in the morning.”

The other Ice cream men, having their fill, bid their goodbyes and headed off to their personal business. Nigel was left standing there, looking over his uniform.

I have a job…

“Hey, congratulations Uno,” Jerry, gave a thumbs up before heading to another room. “See you later buddy!”

I have a job…

He held the uniform to his chest, and stared into nothing. Except, perhaps, his future.

+_+_+_+_+_+_++_+_+_+_+_+_++_+_

The image of a confused bald man standing in the middle of the lounge was illuminated on the screen of a closed circuit television. One of many sitting on the office desk showing every room in the building to yellow, focused eyes. A smile curled on invisible lips.

A shadow of a form sitting in the plush office chair leaned back, lit his pipe with a spark from his finger and took a long, satisfied puff.

“Welcome to the working world, Mr. Uno.”

_+__+_+_+__+_+_+_+_+__+__+_+_+_+_+

Small, callused hands tried distraughtly to lift a large chunk of debris. He pleaded to it in his mind; ‘don’t drop, don’t drop.’ Despite what he considered all his strength, the heavy slab slipped from his fingers and crashed back to the ground with a clang. He stared at the unmoving hunk of metal, glassy eyed, until all his jumbled emotions burst forth as a kick to the ground with his sneaker.

“Crud.”

Numbuh 4 stomped through the wreckage, not yet willing to accept total defeat. The Kids Next Door weren’t dead here. Not yet. Not while he still had an ounce of breath still in him. Although…that breath was feeling kind of thin.

Numbuh 2 could almost cry. Although the metal, wood and plastic were all deformed from destruction, he knew his creations when he saw them. Their beautiful wings to never kiss the sky again. He stared at their corpses though goggle lenses. The sky obscured by the still billowing smoke from the smoldering stump of a once hallowed base of operations. He removed his cherished helmet in mourning.

Under a plank of soggy wood, she found another victim to rescue. It’s furry limp body laying there, soiled, its innards poking out. She moaned a soft sobbing coo and lifted the innocent thing into her arms, hugging it gently. A horrible fate to befall a Rainbow Monkey, or any stuffie for that matter.

Numbuh 3 was silently thankful all of her hamster friends had managed to flee the tree house before the Delightful Children’s final attack. Her gentle heart couldn’t possibly take then grief of finding a dead hamster, not after everything else she had found.

A quiet form stood on the outskirts of the rubble, unmoving, stoic. Contemplating the shiny green object in her hands. Numbuh 5 hadn’t been the same since he left. She was different now. Where once she was flowing, she was now stiff. Once cool, now simply cold.

“Numbuh 3?” his soft voice brought her out of her maternal daze. She turned to Numbuh 4’s hair hidden face, his mouth an unreadable line. “Numbuh 3, standin’ around isn’t gunna ‘elp anythin’. I told ya, we gotta keep workin’.” She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She held the toy close to her chest, as if somehow she could squeeze out her lost innocence and reclaim it. Numbuh 4 grunted, he was getting sick of this, but somehow couldn’t loose his temper. “Alright, fine. I’ll get Numbuh 2 ta help me.”

He silently stormed over to his longtime friend and groused at the chubby boy.

“Put that back on an’ come ‘elp me ya nut. You can always make anotha’ cruddy set a planes.”

Numbuh 2 put his helmet back on and looked to his small companion.

“Have you looked around Numbuh 4?” His once cheery voice was dull “Have you seen how big this mess really is?”

“Stop talkin’ like that!” Numbuh 4 snapped, “It’s bad enough the girls aren’t ‘elpin’! I don’t need tah ‘ear your cruddy remarks!” There was a lump in Wally’s throat. “I don’t care what you think! I’ll fix this tree ‘ouse all by m’self then!”

He dug his fists into the wreck and tossed junk about haphazardly, only helping in making the mess bigger. He didn’t care what he was doing, as long as it kept him from ending up a do nothing zombie like them. But it was all too much. His remaining strength gave out, as almost did his last bit of spirit. But he crammed that back down into himself and sat, legs folded, on a pile of rubbish, clenching his fists, gnashing his teeth. ‘Not gunna cry, not gunna cry.’

He heard the sound of the ground shifting next to him as Numbuh 2 sat down.

“I’m sorry Numbuh 4.” He sighed, “It’s just that…where do we even start?”

Four searched for words to answer but was interrupted by the sound of someone whistling. Both boys looked up to see a large British fellow taking his trash cans back into the garage. Upon spotting the children he stopped and greeted them.

“Oh, hello there, you kids still playing?”

“Uh… yeah Mr. Uno,” Numbuh 2 slowly answered, “we’re still at it.”

“Ah, jolly good.” Their absent friend’s father replied. “Always good to see children at play.” His tone became timid, “Um…you boys haven’t seen Nigel around have you?”

Young eyes frozen open. What to say?

“Ye…no, he’s on a …solo mission.” Numbuh 4 quickly lied, “Top secret Kids Next Door stuff, ya know.”

“Oh.” Mr. Uno sounded disappointed, “I thought he was back from that already.”

“Guh, no! He’s not back yet. But we’ll tell ya when he is.”

“I see, alright. Well, have a good evening boys.”

The foppish man waved before disappearing into the house. Numbuh 2 gave Numbuh 4 a questioning look.

“What?” The Aussie protested, “What was I supposed ta tell ‘im?” Two was silent. “Ya see. You couldn’t think of anythin’! Now, if a certain second in command would stop standin’ around and start actin’ like her role around ‘ere…”

*CRASH*

All looked to Numbuh 5. Her shoulders were squared and she was barely able to contain her angered breathing. She had just thrown something into the street; upon closer inspection it was a soda bottle from a laser that was once a part of their tree house’s defense grid. No one approached her. No one said anything. They could feel her vibes from where she stood.

She finally moved, pulling the bill of her cap over her eyes, she turned around staring at where their tree house once stood. Her vibe melted from angered force to melancholy mellow. Numbuh 3, being the most empathetic, paced to her friend’s side and offered a small optimistic smile. Abby could only fake smile back.

“So, where do we start?” Numbuh 5 asked.

“We fix the tree house, that’s what.” Numbuh 4 almost ordered.

“We’re never going to be able to fix it.” Numbuh 2 moaned.

“Then, we’ll just get a new one.” 4 slammed his fist into his palm.

“How?” asked Numbuh 3.

Numbuh 4 hung his head.

“I’ll… think of something.”

[To be continued]

[faircod1965]

Another great chapter of this brilliant story, I wonder what would happen in the forth chapter.

[pentical]

Thanks for all the reviews so far. Here's the next chapter.

Chapter 4:
No Time To Be Dancing On Giant Pianos


He took the delicate looking half-moon spectacles provided and slipped them silently on. The world came into clarity.

So this is what adulthood looks like.

Nigel stared at his reflection for a solid five minutes, taking in that the stranger staring back at him was indeed himself. His nose had become quite long and thick, like a baby carrot. His chin was pronounced, his shallow cheeks hidden by a scruffy five o’clock shadow. His sullen eyes framed by thin wrinkles. His body was lanky, clumsy looking, covered in sickly pale skin.

“Looking good buddy.” A voice shook him from his thoughts. He spotted Jerry’s face in the mirror, smiling goofily at him.

“I’m still not sure if pink is my color.” Nigel mused, fingering the Tasty-taste badge on his chest. He was never one to like uniforms. They were always the first step of oppression in his eyes.

The idle chatter of ice cream men began to die down. Only in its absence did Nigel realize it had been there to begin with. A tall younger man stood before the others with a clipboard in hand.

“Ok everyone, here’s the routes for the day.” He started reading from the list. “…Ben, 5th street… Jerry, Warburton Avenue… Hagen, Willems Court… Daz, Arndt Street… Dreyer, 3rd street…Uno, Plainvally Road…”

Nigel’s ears fell deaf to the remainder of the monotonous droning. His first assignment, he was really going to work.

The other assigned workers were already headed for their trucks. Nigel plodded slowly towards the parking lot. He mulled over in his head just what this meant. Obeying adults, working for a living, never able to help a kid ever again, problems that had stolen his sleep all the previous night.

“What if I see any kids?” He wondered aloud.

“Oh, that’s no problem.” Hagen assured while passing. “If you spot a kid in your mirrors, just press your foot on that gas pedal. Zoom right passed the little suckers. Nothing to it. And If they chase you, do what I do; hit the break then put it on the accelerator. Kicks a nice cloud of dust and burning rubber right in their faces. It’s classic!”

Nigel gulped and forced a laugh, barely audible under the guffaws of Hagen.

“I…don’t think I’ll be going that far…”
Hagen shrugged him off.

“Eh, Whatever floats your boat. It’s you first day.”

With a wave, the burly man redirected his attention to his truck, following the patterns that all the other ice cream men found routine. Nigel reached his own truck as the sound of engines began to rev around him.

He climbed into the imposing vehicle and sat in the surprisingly cushy front seat. Turn of the key, pressure on the pedal, shift in the gears, rolling wheels toward the sharp lights of day. He took a deep breath and hit the gas, heading into the unknown.

+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

He opened the sliding window door, to be greeted by blank adult faces.

I hope I know how to do this.

“Tasty-taste man, how may I help you?” Even with all his mustered enthusiasm, his words fell flat.

The humdrum suburbanite eyed the bright menu for a moment before speaking.

“I’ll have a Chunk-o Nutty bar.”

Nigel dug through his freezer and handed the nondescript the almond encrusted treat on a stick. He took the money, counted the change, and finished the transaction. He finished the line of treat-hungry adults without any provocation.

This is easier then expected. I think I can handle this…

“Hey, Mister?”

The timid voice made his heart drop. He could barely move his head down to look at the trio of adorable children staring up at him with wide hopeful smiles. Their tiny hands clutching dollar bills, their eyes glimmering with expectant hope that he found stripped from his own.

“Can I have a Chocolate Dipper?”

His mouth felt dry as it hung open. His eyes refused to blink. He wondered about giving them ice cream. He thought about the rules. If he got caught selling ice cream to kids, it would cost him his job, and what where the chances he’d be able to get another? He thought about getting fired, going back to the streets, that cold alley.

I can’t go back there.

Their sweet little faces looked up at him expectantly.

I’m an adult now. Adults do their jobs. It’s how they survive.

His eyes glistened, moist with dismay. His hand slowly made its way to the window.

It’s how things are…

“Mister?” Six little eyes watched inquisitively, confused. His hand tremored on the window.

“I…”

Do your job Nigel…

“I’m sorry…”

The window slammed shut.


It was silent for a few aghast moments. Nigel made his way to the drivers seat.

“Hey, mister.”

The muffled voices stabbed his ears.

“Where’s our ice cream? Mister?”

He gritted his teeth. He had to ignore it. Their calls continued, getting louder, if only in his mind.

Pretend they aren’t there. You can do this. You’re an adult.

He sat in the drivers seat and started the engine. Its roar was not enough to drown them out.

“Can we have our ice cream?”

He turned on his radio. The gentle tinkling tune of “Pop Goes the Weasel” played in addition to the growling engine. It wasn’t enough. He turned up the volume. It still wasn’t enough. His foot pressed the pedal. He had to get away. The pressure was too much on his conscience.

The truck sped away, leaving the befuddled and disappointed children in its dust.

+_+_+_+_+_

“There you go, a nice new toilet paper tube for you all to gnaw on.”

The hamsters chittered happily in their open cages, much to Numbuh 3’s delight. After two days of searching, she had managed to round up all the runaway hamsters and congregated them into a temporary home in her bedroom at her house.

She smiled watching them frolic in their cedar chips. It took her mind from the nag of reality. Her imagination running on its own just hadn’t been cutting it lately.

One of the little critters looked up at her with wide curious eyes. It chattered to her in a language only she could understand. Her smile faded, she sighed.

“I told you, I don’t know when you can go back to the tree house.”

The fuzzy fluffballs gathered around her. She pat them and let them sit in her lap. They chattered happily, snuggling against her legs. Some scampered onto her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. They could tell something was disturbing her usual felicity. Another hamster tittered a question.

“Soon I guess. At least, I hope we start soon.”

The little things groaned with disappointment.

“You have to be patient.” She smiled, “Numbuh 4 said that he’d work on getting everything back to normal.”

The hamsters stared at her for a moment. Then began twittering with tiny laughter. Naïve at first, she joined in with boundless optimism. But their continuous mocking chatter soon told her they were laughing for completely different reasons.

“Hey, that’s not funny. Numbuh 4 can too fix things.”

The rodents giggled more. One even grabbed its sides and fell over backwards.

“He is not dumb! He’ll come up with something good too… I hope…”

The pint- sized mockery continued, etching away at the faith she was so desperately trying to cling to. Seeing her lip quiver they looked to each other and ended their vocal merriment. A small brown and white placed his paw on her knee and chattered a question to change the subject. But his choice of inquiry only reminded her of more reality.

“I don’t know where he is…”

Chitterchatter

“I miss him too, but I don’t know…”

Chitterchitter

“I told you, I don’t know if he’s coming back…”

She hung her head,

“So please… stop asking me…”

[To be continued]

[hoagiegal1970]

This is really good. GROW-UP is one of my favorite episodes from Season One, and this is a fresh take on it. Well done.

[pentical]

Chapter 5:
Dealing with it

It pierced through him like an icy pike stabbed into his very being. This wasn’t the kind of dread that hits you then fades as you get used to its presence. The dread he was feeling was a continual, unceasing dawn. Always heavy, never ebbing, like swallowed needles pricking in a bundle below his chest.

The attempt to drown this gnawing anxiety threatening to burst from his ribcage was failing. The spoon made a hollow clunk as he let it drop into the half empty carton of steadily melting ice cream. He lay his head down on the metal table, letting out a sigh that echoed off the walls of the vacant cafeteria.

He never dreamt it would be so hard. He had always assumed that the onset of puberty would erase any moral qualms he had developed over his time with the Kids Next Door. But instead it lingered, like salt on an open wound.

His solitude gave the cafeteria the appearance of being vastly bigger then it truly was. The only light came from the row of glass- faced freezers behind him, casting formless shadows over the white linoleum floor. The sound of a heavy door creaked open and slammed shut behind him. He didn’t bother to raise his head as the shadows of his coworkers cast over his limp body.

“There you are. You sure have a knack for disappearing at the end of the day.”

Hagen’s finger poked into Nigel’s shoulder blade. His moan was muffled in the folds of his arms before his deep eyes were allowed to peek up at his visitors, his chin resting on the cold slab of metal before him.

“What? Overworked already?” Jerry mocked, “It’s only been your second day.”

“No matter how fast I drove past… their faces… I can still see them…” A mournful voice answered.

“Huh? Come again?” A third guy, whose name Nigel hadn’t bothered to learn asked, looking puzzled.

“I never thought we were fast enough to catch up on foot” Nigel mumbled softly “… those kids proved me wrong.”

The standing trio stared at the sorrow- addled newcomer. Their faces contorted with confusion.

“Uh, are you feeling ok?” Jerry asked, fiddling with his glasses.

Nigel resumed silence, digging back into the carton for a hefty scoop of melting slop. He examined the runny substance drip off the spoon with a half fascination before shoveling it into his mouth.

“As good as anyone can be having to abandon their life’s values.” He drawled with his mouth full. Before even swallowing his last bite, he hugged the carton to his chest and dug out another spoonful.

“Uno, you’re not making any sense.” Hagen shook his head.

Nigel sighed,

“It’s the kids. Having to drive by them every day…”

“So?” the big man cogitated, “Didn’t you say you lost your last job because of kids?”

Nigel stopped in mid-bite, the spoon dangling between his lips. He carefully removed it before speaking.

“Yeah… I did…”

Hagen pat him on the back in a buddy-buddy gesture.

“Well, what do you expect? Kids aren’t worth the grief. They’re whiney, selfish brats that can’t even take care of themselves.”

Nigel stared into his ice cream tub, not lifting his eyes.

“I was a kid once… it was over so quickly…”

The ice cream men nodded empathetically.

“Tell me about it,” said the no name, “I’m glad those days are over.”

“Kids these days think they’re so hot.” Hagen scoffed, “They don’t have any respect, they’re rude. They’re just begging to be put in their place.”

“We only wanted to have fun…” Nigel slurred. In his ice cream intoxication, his spoon slipped from his flailing hands and landed with a clang a few feet away.

“That’s another thing about kids,” Hagen continued, “They don’t realize that life isn’t all fun and games. Life is full of responsibilities; they can’t rely on mommy to do everything for them. They think the whole world revolves around them, while WE do all the work! And do they appreciate it? NO!”

“Yeah,” Jerry agreed, “They don’t care where the candy comes from, they’re just, ‘Gimme, gimme gimme!’”

“I never though of that before.”

Nigel took this and what he had just said and rolled it around in his head for a moment. He frowned and took a swig of melted ice cream strait from the carton.

“I don’t know what to think anymore!”

He leaned back with his exclamation, nearly toppling over his chair backwards. He culled some stares from his fellow workers.

“Umm, okay. I think you’ve had enough Rum Raisin.” Jerry smiled nervously, carefully removing the carton from Nigel’s possession. The bespectacled Brit leered at him and muttered,

“You’re not the boss of me…” Before letting his head hit the table.

“Well, uh, we’re going bowling.” Hagen stated awkwardly. “You wanna come with?”

Shaking from his befuddled mind, Nigel looked up at the grown men before him.

“No, no thanks.” He sighed, “I sort of want to be alone right now.” He got up and slowly walked to the door. “Maybe I’ll just get some fresh air.”

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_//

She couldn’t bring herself to go home. Instead she wandered aimlessly through the wreckage, kicking random scraps. Something had to be salvageable, something had to still work, something had to prove she wasn’t wasting her time being here.

Something amid the debris caught her attention, not by sight but by a faint mechanical crackling buried beneath wooden planks and a thin coating of mud. Her dark hand cleared off the rubble and soil, uncovering what was left of the communications array. It was still buzzing with what remained of its internal power source. Lifting it gingerly, she delicately ran her fingers over the only working device left from the tree house. Absentmindedly she fooled with the dial, not really paying it much mind, just indulging in the one link left to better times.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Sector V?” A voice snapped from the speaker.

Numbuh 5 fell back nearly dropping the device. She cussed under her breath as her rear collided with a hard piece of plywood.

“Moonbase to sector V, is there anybody there?” The disembodied voice asked again. Hesitantly, Five pressed the call back button.

“Numbuh 5 here.”

“Finally.” The young voice sighed with relief. “What’s going on down there? We lost contact with you guys four days ago. Is there some kind of problem?”

“Uh, nothing’s wrong.” She stammered, smiling falsely although she could not be seen. “Everything’s fine down here.”

“Are you sure?” The voice inquired, “When your communication signal stopped coming in we were starting to think about sending someone down there to check on you.”

“No!” She could barely control her reaction. Taking a deep breath, she searched for her center, looking for the smooth, cool voice she was notorious for. “Listen, there’s nothing goin’ on. Numbuh 1… Numbuh 1 just shut down the communications grid so he could upgrade it.”

“He did?” the voice considered this, then spoke with a more scolding tone. “He could have warned us about this first.”

“Well, ya’ll know how much he likes to mess around with the utility arrays.” She chuckled nervously with her lie.

“Yeah, he is a perfectionist.” The unidentified youth agreed. “You just tell him to hurry it up ok? Moonbase over and out.”

She stared at the silent piece of equipment, pondering what had just happened. Why hadn’t she told the truth? She could have easily asked for assistance, gotten someone to come help them rebuild. But in doing so, she would have to admit their massive failure, admit he was gone and not coming back. Was she to submit to protocol or handle things on her own? She turned the device off, laid it on the ground and walked away from it.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+//

The water swirled invitingly below the dark bridge. He lost a few hours just standing there, watching the inky current carry stray leaves and bubbles away from the city. His hands gripped lightly around the railing, his eyes temporarily closed in thought.

It can be over quickly. The bridge is high enough up.

The wind blew coldly, cutting through the warm summer air. The moon’s reflection rippled in the water below.

I’m not doing anything important anymore. Those days are behind me.

He placed his foot on the railing, ready to hoist himself over. He let his mind drift between thoughts, trying to empty his head before his decent. But his brain refused to shut up, continuing to babble between his ears. He eyed to glassy water, serine and calmly flowing, hiding jagged rocks just below its smooth surface.

Do it now. Get it over with. Nobody knows who I am. No one will care…

He lowered his foot.

No… someone does know, someone will care and what would they think if they saw?

The horrible images flashed across his mind. His battered, bloated, body being dredged up, lifeless, dangling, dead eyes fogged milky white. Four innocent souls watch silently in mourning as the John Doe is carted away to the friendly neighborhood morgue. His story never told, his pain never public. But it was to those select few who would know that caused him to dread the most. Their disappointment, their sadness in seeing him gone…

…Or perhaps joy?

He could see their five faces smiling evilly. Their glassy blue eyes wide with the jubilation of not only his being gone, but the fact that they needed not to sully their prim hands in the final grim deed. That it was he and not them.

They’re just waiting for me to, aren’t they? They think I’m too weak to handle being an adult.

His focus returned to the present with eyes narrowed in anger and spite.

“No, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me give up.” He said aloud to himself.

So what do I do?

“I’m an adult now. No matter what, I was going to become one eventually. It’s time I started acting like one.”

He took a deep breath, sucking in his mantra. Mentally conditioning himself to accept what his mouth was saying.

“All kids grow up. It’s an inevitability. They all end up adults anyway. Why should I pay them any mind? They don’t deserve any special treatment. They’re oblivious to everything that’s going to change in their lives. Why should I go easy on them? No self respecting adult would.”

He tightened his lips, his face becoming neutral. He had made up his mind. Letting go of the guardrail, he headed back towards the Ice cream factory.

{To be continued}

[pentical]

Chapter 6:
Chrysalis

The anthem of a hundred trucks filled the air as the ice cream men started their appointed rounds. Leaving the gates of the factory as a swarm until dividing up onto individual streets. Veining out like troops on the prowl.

He stayed alert, knowing his target clearly now. No more distractions, he had made sure of it since his decision on the bridge three days ago. Everything from before that had become a fuzzy blur in his memory.

He had no need to explain himself, no instances of shame. Since the day of his vow the tug on his heart had lessened to nothing. He did his job, and he did it well.

He spotted a small group of juveniles waiting on a street corner, watching his approaching truck eagerly. Never taking his eyes off the road, his hand reached for the radio dial, turning it up. His foot pressed the accelerator, leaving a bunch of confused and saddened children in its wake. He felt no pity, nor did he joy. He felt nothing. He was wholly numb.

+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+///

Not even a trip to the candy store could lift their spirits. It just had somehow lost its sweetness. Trudging back to their ruins, empty handed, save one bag they had forced themselves to buy just so that they would have something to do. They took the long way home for reasons they didn’t know.

“Hey, gimmie back my scooter you big creep!” A tiny voice broke the silence.

“Make me twerp.” A deeper voice bellowed.

Four heads turned to the sound of obvious trouble.

“Ugh,” Numbuh 4 groaned, recognizing the offender “It’s Big Brother.”

The large teenager with the noticeable glandular problem was busy teasing an unfortunate boy by holding his scooter well out of his reach and laughing stupidly as the younger child made frantic attempts to jump up to get it.

“He’s so mean.” Numbuh 3 pouted, folding her over sleeved arms.

“Well?” Numbuh 4 looked to his companions, “Arn’t we gunna take care a him?”

The others glanced at one another, unsure of what to say. Their faltering expressions caused Four to grit his teeth.

“C’mon! We can take this big palooka!”

Their silence was enough for him; his fist trembled with anger.

“Fine! I’ll take him!”

Before they could protest, he ran across the street at the behemoth of a teen.

“Hey Dumbo! Leave that kid alone!”

Big Brother glared down at the pint sized Aussie. Forgetting about his former victim, he tossed the scooter over his shoulder to let it land in some random location.

“You gonna make me little man?” The teen snorted.

“Dern right I am.” Numbuh 4 snarled back.

The three on the sidelines turned away as a hard thud sent the little blond flying. He landed on some trashcans two houses away.

“Numbuh 4!” Numbuh 3 cried, dropping the bag of candy as she and Numbuh 2 ran to his aid. He was fortunately unharmed. Only his ego was the exception; it could only be compared to the anguish of every bone is his body being broken.

“You runts are in big trouble now!” The imposing form above them snarled.

“Uh, Numbuh 5. We could use a plan right about now.” Numbuh 2 timidly shouted. He received no answer. “Numbuh 5?”

They looked across the street. The dark girl was looking in their direction, but it seemed as if she was in fact staring straight through them. Her eyes were wide in some form of shock. She stood, frozen solid, making a noise not unlike soft choking.

The trio managed to escape the giant fist as it came crashing down as they scattered to the other side of the street, aiding Numbuh 4’s battered body as they ran.

“Numbuh 5?” The plump pilot inquired again now that they were closer.

Fingering something hidden deep in her pocket, she looked to him, frowning sadly before lowering her head, letting the shadow of her cap cover her fallen face. Understanding, he turned to the others.

“This isn’t working.”

Without words Numbuh 3 and the bruised Numbuh 4 hung their heads in agreement.

Before Big Brother could spot where they had gone, they had taken to speed and fled the area. Shamefully a safe distance away, they slowed their pace. They knew it. Needing no conversation whatsoever they all agreed on why they had failed.

Something was missing.

Numbuh 4 stopped his limping. On the curb was something that had caught his interest. He took the cardboard box by the flap and dragged it behind him.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_///

The happy sounds of children’s laughter didn’t faze him, if he had bothered to hear it in the first place. He was too busy handing out ice cream to the parents standing around while their kids had all the fun.

“Just look at them, wasting their lives. They have no idea what’s ahead of them. They should be preparing for the future, not frittering their youth away on the monkey bars.” Nigel looked to his customer, who was staring back with a vacant expression. The ice cream man sighed. “That’ll be two dollars.”

Putting the crisp green bills away, a sudden blow to the head caused Nigel to lose his footing, falling to the cold floor of his truck. Shaking his head of the lingering pain he found his assailant sitting next to him in the form of a red rubber ball. He picked it up, looking it over with curiosity.

“Excuse me, could I have my ball back?”

Looking out his window he saw a little girl standing there. He held the ball so she could see it, but kept it out of her reach.

“And what are you going to do with it?” He asked in a feckless manner.

“Play with it.” The child said matter-of-factly.

“And then what?” his voice was a biting tease.

“I dunno…”

“Have you done anything constructive, or have you just been bouncing it all day?” His cynicism was lost on her.

“Can I just have my ball back?”

Nigel groused and tossed the ball into a far bush.

“You have legs. Go get it yourself.”

+_+_+_+_+__+_+_+///

It took Hagen a good five minutes to stop laughing after Nigel had told his story.

“Man that’s good! You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to say that to a snot- nosed kid. You’ve got moxy man.”

Nigel gave a smirking eye to his coworkers as he silently chewed the end of a used up Popsicle stick. He leaned up against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking smooth and devil-may-care as the other men continued to praise him.

“To bad we couldn’t be there to see it.” Jerry mused.

“I just did what any adult would have done.” Nigel shrugged.

A white envelope waved in his face.

“Here’s your paycheck.” Said the man handing them out. Nigel took the check and glanced it over. Hagen was right, this was good pay. Better then any allowance.

“The boss says he likes your work.” The check man added before turning his attentions to the other workers.


Nigel kept up his good work for the next four days. It became a blasé routine; no thrill could penetrate him. He leaned back on his chair on the morning of the fifth day, listening to the names and their respective routes being called. When he finally heard his name it shook him from his half sleeping state and left him with no time to prepare for what he heard next.

“Uno, you got Living-Hill Lane today.”

His heart missed a beat hearing that familiar street name. The thought of switching routes with someone crossed his mind, but he tossed it away. It would be silly to be afraid of a few houses. Nothing left in that old neighborhood but fading memories. Stealing himself, he walked steadfast to his truck and started on his way.

+__+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+///

Thankfully it seemed that no one young or old wanted ice cream that day. Sighing with gratitude, Nigel knew he only had one more block to go before his afternoon rounds were over. But this was the block he had been dreading since this morning.

The plain white and red house was still surrounded with an endless field of trash and rubble; the ash was still trailing up from the mammoth stump as if it were a smoke stack. A pang of grief threatened to penetrate his heart. He forced his eyes away from the sight as he continued to drive by. He tried not to think about his parents, he tried not to think about his past.

“Just ignore it,” he whispered to himself. “You can’t go back.”

The jumbled sounds of young shouting filled the air behind him. Habitually he pressed the gas pedal and picked up speed. He didn’t want to deal with children now. He didn’t want to have to deal with anybody.

*THUNK!*

A solid thud on his roof jerked his foot to the breaks. Had he hit something? No. It sounded like something had hit him. A blond head popped into view from above the windshield. A familiar Australian accent filled the air.

“Ey! We want some I…aye, yieyie! … Numbuh One?”

Nigel gave the bewildered boy a stern scowl and stated curtly,

“That’s MISTER Uno to you.”

[To be continued]

[pentical]

Chapter 7-
Breaking Point


“You know, you used to be cool because the team meant more to you then anythang. Including yo’self. But now you just a selfish old crank. It’s not your age that’s changed Mr. Uno, it’s you.”

Numbuh 5 pointed her accusing finger at Nigel from the window. Spitting out his formal new name like it was leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Her eyes stern with a telling upset.

He folded his arms over his steering wheel, staring into the dashboard.

“Pff, selfish…” He snorted, then turned and yelled at the window, even though she had already left the vicinity. “When you’re an adult you’ll learn that it’s everyman for himself! And you’ll learn the hard way!”

Gripping the wheel tight he shifted the truck back into gear and drove off, leaving his former friends in his dust.

Nigel fumed, grinding his teeth, breathing in abrupt, frustrated sighs, wringing his hands on the wheel as he drove. Letting the bitter acid settle inside him.

“She call me selfish? … I can’t believe it. Who does she think she is? She has no idea what I have to go through every day. Selfish…”

I am being selfish…

“It’s how adults are.”

Says who?

“There is nothing I can do about it.”

Yes there is, I just haven’t bothered to try.

“What does she know? ‘It’s not your age that’s changed,’ pah! Everything changes when you grow up.”

I’ve changed for the worse.

“I’ve changed to survive”

Is it worth surviving, knowing what I’ve become?

“So what if kids hate me? I don’t need them. I have a job…”

And not a friend in the world…

“And I showed those Delightful Children. I became a functioning adult. The kind of adult they didn’t think I could become…”

Something began to worm its way into his brain, like waking up after an intense dream.

“The kind of adult…”

The road ahead began to go blurry. He swallowed hard, trying to break up the lump steadily forming in his throat. He found an empty spot near a clearing of trees to pull over. Quietly he turned off the music, turned off the engine, laid his forehead on the steering wheel and closed his eyes, letting the moist cascades trail down his face.

“What am I saying?” He whispered to himself in a cracking voice. “I’ve become everything I hate…”

I could have tried to become a better kind of adult. One who’s nice to kids. I could have set an example for grown-ups everywhere. I could have at least given ice cream to kids... But I didn’t... Why?

“How could I have forgotten everything I wanted to change?” He sniffled, and then, in a sudden rush of anger, banged his head repeatedly into the center of the steering wheel.

“They shouldn’t have had to see me like that. I let them all down! I’m a hypocrite! A jerk! A monster…” He calmed himself and sat up, wiping away his tears. “I don’t want to lose my friends.”

I have to apologize to them. I can’t let it end like this.

“After that display I put on, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were planning to sneak into the Delightful Children’s mansion and steal that age-changing ray to change me back into a kid…” he paused, the realization hitting him hard. “Oh no…they would do just that.” He held his head, fretting, “They don’t have any weapons. They could get turned into adults too… or worse…” He tightened his fists. “I won’t let that happen! I can’t! No more mistakes! My team needs their leader!”

My friends need to know I’m still their friend.

He glared into the setting sun, a forgotten sense of duty swelling inside him. But then, a trickle of doubt sunk in as his eye caught his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

“How can I help them though?” he sighed. Wondering if his altered body could handle a battle now. “I need to be there for them, but I don’t want to end up getting in the way. There has to be something I can do.” He grabbed the tiny mirror and ripped it from the ceiling of the truck. Leering at the horrible image of his aged form, ready to smash the truth telling object.

“I can’t let my team lose to a bunch of goody-goody little snots that listen to everything that grown-ups…” he looked at the mirror again. There was his answer, staring right at him. It had always been there. It was so simple.

Why didn’t I think of it sooner?

A clever smile curled his lips. He had his plan.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_///

The evening lights turned on illuminating the Tasty-Taste factory parking lot. Clockwork as usual, the dark figure observed from his office window, just the way he liked it.

“Excuse me, boss.”

The shadow turned his big chair to face the timid worker approaching him.

“Yes, what is it?” The commanding voice asked mildly.

“Just the numbers for today sir. But um…”

The shaking man hesitated, shifting his eyes fearfully.

“Yes?” The dark one leaned forward slightly in his seat with obvious impatience.

“Well sir,” the meek one tugged at the collar of his shirt. “One of the trucks hasn’t come back yet.” He squeaked, holding his manila envelope before him like a shield for the impending wrath. But oddly, no wrath came.

“Which truck would that be?” The rich voice simply asked.

The smaller man checked his papers.

“Truck #21631”

Yellow eyes shifted with intrigue.

“Mr. Uno’s Truck.” He paused as the man nodded. “And what route did Mr. Uno have today?”

“He had Living-Hill Lane today, sir.”

“I see.” The large black chair turned again to the window as the boss removed himself from it. “I’m going home.”

The assistant cocked a confused brow as his employer made his way to the door.

“Now sir?”

“Yes,” The black silhouette replied, leaving the room. “Some one needs to keep an eye on the children.”

+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_///

Ten transparent blue leered maliciously at four cornered souls. Aiming a cigar shaped object sparking with delight. Their evil revelry interrupted by the faint but quickly growing sound of chimes playing “Pop Goes the Weasel.” An alien light suddenly flooded into the large room and crashed through the ornate window, scattering shattered glass and frightened children alike before extinguishing on the solid interior wall.

The dust quickly settled, and four hearts leapt with hope as the double back doors of the ice cream truck snapped open with the kick of a tall, bald, British man who stepped forward.

“Tasty-Taste special delivery!”


(to be continued)

[pentical]

Here's the final chapter. Thanks for all the comments.

Epilogue-
Where You Belong


The battle had raged until first lights of dawn. The new day would have to start without five small children who lay exhausted from a combination of fighting a fiery demon and his five offspring, and having stayed up all night in order to do so.

The sun barely bothered the resting youngsters as they napped, huddled together in their tiny cardboard box. The addition of one more had oddly made the small confines feel somehow bigger.

Hoagie was curled into a ball, snorting away in that silly manner of his, lost in sweet dreams. Wallabee and Kuki leaned on one another, snuggled close and lovingly; still sticky with ice cream from the fight. Abby leaned against the thin brown wall, using her hands as a pillow, a gentle smile on her lips. Half awake, still too drowsy to open her eyes, she turned over, but was startled to find nothing in her way.

Springing up wide-awake, she franticly looked around the box. Dread burrowing into her heart as she counted the heads. Hoagie was here, so were Kuki and Wallabee. But Nigel was nowhere to be seen.

Where was he? He had been there when she fell asleep. She had felt his warmth next to her, heard his heart beat, as she lay close. Was it all a dream? The whole encounter with the Delightful Children, their Father, throwing the ice cream to defeat him. Nigel. His sudden appearance, his tricking the Delightfuls, taking on Father all by himself, figuring out the ice cream weakness, his last minute sparing of the Children. Could she have dreamt it all? Had the restoration of his youth and homecoming been a figment of her wishful imagination?

It just couldn’t have been. It was all too real, all too wonderful to be something that could drift away with the morning dew. Leaping from the box, she ran towards the house sitting in the center of the melancholy field of disassembled 2X4 technology. The only other place he could be.

+_+_+_+_+_+_+///

The house was quiet, empty, not a sign of life save for the sound of metal on ceramic coming from the kitchen. Abby rushed in, only to see Mrs. Uno sitting there, sipping some morning tea.

The older, British woman calmly placed down her teacup upon seeing the girl.

“Abigail, are you in a hurry dear?”

“Oh, sorry Mrs. Uno, I was just…”

“Nigel’s up in his room.”

A big grin widened the dark girl’s face.

“Thanks Mrs. Uno.”

She turned around and with a bounce in her step sped up the stairs. In her haste she would have missed the room she was looking for if it weren’t for the flash of movement from inside the open door. She stopped with a skid and stood in the doorframe watching his thin form stand there with his back to her. His bald head popping out of the neck hole of a thick red sweater. Her voice escaped her lips in a subconscious whisper.

“Numbuh 1…”

He turned to her, his face displaying a look of surprise seeing her there. She herself was surprised her words had left her mouth. Now that he was looking right at her, his plain face no longer baring the adult-sized glasses, she didn’t know what to say. Noting her mystified expression, he chose to speak first.

“I thought I’d change first.”

It took her a second to register that he was speaking about the pile of white clothes strewn messily on his bed.

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

She snapped back to reality.

“Oh. Numbuh 5 just wanted to say again how glad she is that you came back.”

“I would guess so.” He took a step forward, “That tongue lashing you gave me the other day really brought me to my senses. Thank you Numbuh 5.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment. A warm feeling of love and respect flickered in his chest. Her words, as harsh and embittered as they were, were the truth he needed to pull himself out of the darkness. He then brought his attention to pulling on his big brown boots as she watched him.

She sat next to him on his neatly made bed, the one he rarely slept in since practically moving into the tree house.

“No prob, boss. Numbuh 5 knew you just needed a kick in the pants to get going.”
She lied. After seeing him in the truck she had honestly believed he was never coming back, she had seen this sort of thing happen before. If not for Numbuh 3’s words, she would have never given him a second thought. For once she was glad she didn’t listen to her first impulse.

“Well, ready to get the others and get started?” He finished lacing up and jumped off the bed. He was about to walk out the door when she got in his way.

“Hold up! Somethin’ ain’t right.” She rubbed her chin, looking him thoughtfully right in the eye.

He took a step back, wondering what she meant. Didn’t she trust him? Was there still an air of adult lingering from him that he wasn’t aware of?

A shrewd smile took her mouth as she reached her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small object, shiny and black. She folded opened the Sunglasses and gingerly placed them over his eyes, stealing a caress of his smooth face. A strong jaw line hidden by a thin layer of prepubescent chub. His hand slowly reached up to touch them.

I never thought I’d ever wear these again…So I’m not really dreaming…

“I found ‘em right after you left. Sorta hung onto them this whole time.”

It’s real…I’m really home…

She heard a tiny squeak escape him, just before he collapsed onto her shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck. She could feel her shirt become moist as his body shook with every sob.

“N...Numbuh 1?”

He tried to swallow back his snuffles, just enough so he could speak.

“I never thought… I c… I could ever come back…”

He couldn’t stop the flow of tears, unknowing if they were for sadness or joy; it was if a damn had burst inside him.

She gently placed her hand on his back, patting and rubbing calmly to soothe him.

“Shhh… It’s okay…”

“No, It’s not okay,” he whined, crying harder, “I did terrible things…” his breath moaned, “I’m so sorry! I don’t think…”

She hushed him again, pushing him off her and touching her finger to his lips. She knew what he was going to say, and didn’t want to hear a word of it.

“You don’t need to apologize. You came back, that’s all that matters.” She smiled at him and spoke the words he needed to hear, “We need you Numbuh 1.”
He reclined on her once again, his tears continuing at full force. This time it was all too clear what they were for.

“Thank you Numbuh 5…”

She held him, allowing all his emotions to flow freely, her voice maternal in his ear.

“That’s right, let it all out… It’s okay baby, it’s all over. It’s all over…”

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_///

For the first time they willingly as a group stood before the wreckage and assessed it all. Metal and wood strewn haphazardly across as far as their young eyes could see. Numbuh 4 sighed deeply.

“Man, this is depressing.”

Numbuh 1 took in the dismal sight, his eyes not hiding his gloom.

This certainly is going to take a lot of effort.

“Yeah,” Numbuh 2 agreed, “This‘ll take forever to fix.”

But we can’t give up now, not when we’re all together again.

Nigel smiled, placing a reassuring arm on Hoagie’s shoulder.

“Cheer up guys,”

I won’t let them give up. I’ve been given two very rare and special things; Friends worth the world to me…

“We’re not growing up for a long, long time.”

And a second chance…

“So let’s get to work!”

And I’m not going to let either go to waste.


The End