DISLCAIMER: I do not own Codename: Kids Next Door or any of its characters save those created specifically for this story.
KIDS NEXT DOOR MISSION
A young girl, roughly nine or ten years old, walked up a street in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Some would call her Black. Others would call her African-American, but the girl didn't call herself either. She thought of such things as silly labels made by adults. She didn't have a lot of respect for most adults. After the things she has seen throughout her most recent years, it wasn't hard to figure out why. This girl wasn't what many would consider normal. She wasn't the cheery type of girl, who would go crazy over what she was to wear that day or what boys might like her. Nor was she simply another tomboy, she liked some of what most boys would call "girly stuff". She wasn't your average girl at all. She was Abby Lincoln, also known as Numbuh Five of the Kids Next Door.
Abby was just returning home after a long day of work with the Kids Next Door. There weren't any missions that day. But there were a lot of chores and maintenance work that had needed doing. And Numbuh One had felt that a slow day like this one was the perfect time to get those things done. The other Kids Next Door hadn't been happy about that decree. Days without missions were play days for them, not days for work. Still, they had followed Numbuh One's lead. He had done just as much work as they had, if not more. So the other kids had had no right to complain. Numbuh Five certainly hadn't. She'd done her work, and was now very happy to return home for a good rest before the next day.
"Abigail dear!" Abby's mother called as Abby walked through her home's front door, "We have a guest."
Abby let out a sigh. She much preferred the shorter version of her name. However, her mother was very formal and proper and refused to use "Abby". Abby didn't make a huge deal of it, though, her mother let her get away with other "improper" things, after all.
Abby knew, though, that her mother would insist on Abby's greeting their company. So she braced herself and entered the kitchen, where she had heard her mother's voice, and saw the guest. It was a woman, about her mom's age, with blonde hair and blue eyes. For some reason, Abby found her familiar, but she didn't dwell on it. The lady was just another adult to her.
"Abigail," said her mother, a very dignified looking woman in her thirties, "This is Farrah, an old friend of ours."
"Abby be very pleased to meet'cha." Abby managed, as politely as possible.
"It's good to see you too, Abby." said Farrah, "It's been years since I saw you last. I think you were just starting preschool the last time I got a good look at you."
"Really?" said Abby, making small talk until she could think of an excuse to go to her bedroom that wouldn't strike her mother as obscenely rude. Fortunately, that ended up not even being necessary. Farrah and Abby's mother got so involved in their own conversation, they didn't even notice Abby heading up to her bedroom. She made a point of hurrying when she overheard Farrah ask "So she never grew out of talking in the third person, huh?"
Abby lied on top of her bed, reading one of a small collection of magazines she kept at home. It had been at least an hour since she'd left her mother and her guest alone. She heard sounds that made Abby think their conversation was still going, as well as a few laughs here and there. After a while, the talking quieted down, and Abby heard some steps coming in her direction. They stopped for a while, then suddenly there was a knock at Abby's door.
"Come in." said Abby as she closed the cover of her magazine and sat up. Farrah walked into the room. She seemed nervous. That struck Numbuh Five as odd. Why would an adult be nervous around a kid?
Farrah was wringing her hands and looking down at the carpet on the floor.
"Abigail..." she said.
"I prefer Abby." Abby said in reply.
"Right... Abby..." Farrah muttered. She cleared her throat and continued. "Abby, I came here because I need help with something. Something only you can help me with."
"Me? What can Abby do?" asked the girl aloud. Does she know 'bout the Kids Next Door? she wondered to herself.
Farrah reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out a photograph. She handed the photo to Abby, who didn't believe what she saw.
"I need your help to save them!" said Farrah.
END OF TRANSMISSION ONE