The main screen flickered to life, showing a live satellite feed of the Arctic Ice Base, the KND’s most secure detention facility. The camera panned over frozen tundra, then stopped.
As the ice began to crack, Numbuh 2 did something brilliant. He wasn’t a pilot for nothing. He grabbed a fire extinguisher, ripped off the safety pin, and aimed it not at the fire, but at the floor beneath Harvey. A sheet of ice formed instantly. Harvey slipped, the G.O.L.D.E.N. M.E.M.O.R.Y. flying from his grip.
“What you’re seeing is Numbuh 4.7,” she said. “Or rather, what he used to be. Real name: Harvey Hapsburg. Decommissioned at age thirteen, standard protocol. He was a promising operative. Sector M. Invented the S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. (Strategic Post-Logical Anomaly Neutralizing Kinetic Energy Rifle).”
For a moment, Nigel hesitated. The image was so real. So cold. Codename Kids Next Door
“And now?” Numbuh 4 cracked his knuckles. “He wants his old lunchbox back?”
He held out his hand.
Twenty minutes later, the Sector V treehouse was a war room. Numbuh 362, Supreme Leader of the KND, appeared on a holo-screen, her face grim. The main screen flickered to life, showing a
“We got a bogey, Numbuh 1. Scrambled I.D. signature. It’s… it’s not a Teen. Or an adult.” She squinted. “The heat signature is weird. Too small. But the weapon profile is off the charts.”
Numbuh 1 leaned in. “Magnify.”
Outside, the sun set over the canyon. And somewhere in the distance, a treehouse alarm blared. A new mission. A new problem. A new chance to be a kid—with all the messy, complicated, beautiful memories that came with it. He wasn’t a pilot for nothing
“Because,” Numbuh 362 sighed, “the decommissioning didn’t take. At least, not fully. We think a repressed memory—something traumatic—created a psychic scar. His subconscious built a ‘back door.’ For years, he played the role of a boring teenager. Got bad grades. Listened to sad music. Complained about homework. But three days ago, the wall broke. He remembered everything . Every mission. Every friend he forgot. Every birthday party he missed because he was saving the world.”
Harvey stared at the hand for a long, long time. Then, slowly, he took it.
Then, the figure looked up.
“Help me?” Harvey spun around. His eyes weren’t angry. They were wet. “You’re going to help me? You, Numbuh 1? The great Nigel Uno. What happens to you in two years, huh? You turn thirteen. They put you in that chair. You forget Hoagie. You forget Kuki. You forget your own brother .” He pointed a trembling finger at Numbuh 2. “You’ll forget the time he saved your life from the Toilenator.”
