Universe: Codename: Kids Next Door
Theme/Topic: Errmmm, the after math of a mission that went badly awry and Numbers Four and One
Rating: Adult. Language, content, theme/topic rating, just to be on the safe side. It's only for those...over the age of sixteen I suppose (Eighteen in the USA). Really....
Characters: Numbers One through to Five, with cameo appearances from other Numbers and a few OCs. Just to warn you. No Mary Sues, or Gary Stu's though. Just OOCness and a few unlikely situations.
Warnings/Spoilers: Abuse, Anal, Angst, AU/AR, BDSM, Bi, B-Modification, Bondage, Cock and Ball Torture, D/s, F/M/M, Humiliation, Language, M/F/F, M/M/M, M/m, Mpreg, N/C, Oral sex, Peg, PWP, Racist, Rimming, S&M, Sexual Harassment, SoloM, Spanking, Torture, Toys, Transvesites, UST, Violence, Voyuerism, WAFFy, Wet Dreams, Work in Progress~
Word Count: 2,785 words (and that's just the first chapter!)
Time: Errm... Errm...Started back in about early 2007 and then lugged it around through three computers and forgot about it until now...Spent about three days writing more and sprucing it up...
Summary: Number Four. Arrogant, abusive and annoying and though he doesn't know it, sexually submissive. Number One. Masterful, brilliant, intelligent and he knows that he's sexually dominant. Number Four is in for a big surprise when he fucks up.
Dedication: Someone....who cares....-has no idea who or what inspired this- .
A/N: Again no idea what plot bunny grew this monstrosity; like most of my fics it just happens. And I have no control whatsoever. You'd think as the author I'd know that kind of stuff...But I don't...Ermm...Again, it's going to be a backburner story, just there for my amusement and when I can't think of BSP.
Distribution: Warn me please but then you'll be free to take. Just a word of warning; please don't try and pass it off for your own work. It's unfair and it's not going to help you or me. I don't mind if you stick on the moon if you credit me somewhere even if it's really small at the end. Rant over...For now.
~A Beginning to a Tale of Tales~
KND – Kids Next Door is an elite crack international team, numbering in the thousands around the world, fighting against the tyranny of the adults and grown-ups. The only thing is…most of the world is unaware of their valiant heroics. Our story is concerned about a specific group of these specialised Agents; code named Number One, Number Two, Number Three, Number Four and Number Five who together stand over Sector Five, in San Francisco.
They were recruited all around the age of five, and by the time they were ten they had the best record for captured and nullified enemies in the entire organisation. When asked their secret, the only answer any operative would get is… "Just because…"
By six years old, they were heading the leader board on the individual missions and were the youngest agents to be in charge of a sector. At eight they were the stuff of urban tales, telling of their incredible power and prowess in the battles between kid and adult. At ten they were heading up the leader board of Sector Success, had more than a hundred missions under their combined belts and were one of the most developed teams and technological units in the world. But by the time they were twelve, and just eight weeks from being decommissioned, they achieved the level of Legendary by pulling off a stunning coop that landed eighty-nine villains, four hundred and seven henchmen and women, and eight thousand objects of questionable or dangerous original in the lock-ups. They were the stuff of myths and legends, but it was too late to have them back again.
As a final gift to them, the Supreme Leader of the KND allowed them graciously to be decommissioned together, rather than having to have the team fragment and pull apart over time. Number Five was the oldest agent to be decommissioned, having been nearly fourteen at her last mission, whereas Number Four was the youngest ever to be decommissioned for formal reasons (i.e. not due to betrayal or medical reasons) only twelve and three months old. His decision though, not to accept the offer from the Supreme Commander to have his own team from the age of twelve and to lead them to greatness was remarkable. The loyalty in that team was incomprehensible to everyone out side of them, but they didn't mind. They got it even if no-one else did.
The KND (Kids Next Door) team had been decommissioned from the KND enterprise but had been recommissioned into the TOTR or the Teenagers Over The Road, pronounced Totter , presiding over their old patch of Sector Five. At fifteen the five of them had been commended by the Elite Commanders of TOTR for their elitism and dedication. An award ceremony had been held, each of them receiving flashy golden medals in a ceremonial box. As soon as they arrived home, they had unanimously thrown the medals into the back of a storage cupboard, stripped off the ties and high heels and collapsed in front of the television, devoting their evening to pizza and Alien Versus Predator.
After that ceremony though, they went up the mission ranking and were given the priority missions. Suddenly, they were entrusted to do aboard missions, to deal with specialist equipment and highly sensitive information that could overbalance the world's political minefield. No longer were the missions brief and simple; now they could last up to eight weeks, require the co-ordination sometimes up to two hundred members and even have a BLACK OPS classification – i.e. people could die on these missions.
Now they were a part of an organisation that no longer dealt with lame ideals and played tag to decide on a new leader. Now things were done democratically, there was a board of Executive and Senior members who decided on the missions to be done. Not much was known about that particular board, but it was rumoured that it was made of up of operatives of the TOTR who had been so badly injured in the line of duty that they were restricted to permanent office work, in the Lunar Station. Now things were done to completion, with reports and filing and updates and news being passed around and proper levels of clearance and everything.
And each member had their own sector team to worry about – all from other sectors reporting back to their leaders in Sector Five. Number Two for example commanded a crack team of tech whizzes and Number Three surprisingly enough took a bunch of the youngest linguists in the biz under her wing, and actually did a damn fine job of it. Number Four had a small team of fighters he was training to follow his footsteps, and already they were reaching the black belt range though none of them were working out to his exact specification. His pickiness over fighting was legendary and his harsh comments had sent more than one agent screaming and crying from the room. Number Five kept just two or two street smart younger members around her for reasons known only to herself. And Number One...well he gave lectures and that was it. In his words, he had no time to be "dealing with people he didn't need to nor want to talk to". Harsh but true. The people in the teams under the tutelage or instruction of Sector Five mostly did their work from their own bases, meeting perhaps once or twice a month with the Sector Five operatives. That meant that they had yet more reports to do; some for the high ups, some for the low downs, some for fellow Sector Commanders and some for bureaucratically based reasons. Minimum eighteen thousand ones some of them.
Each one of the Sector Five Agents had responded differently to being decommissioned and then recommissioned for a new unit.
Number One had responded in a very British way. When he awoke in the medical bay of the TOTR Lunar Base, right after having his memories re-engaged, he had asked for his team, an explanation, a pair of pyjamas and a cup of tea. In that order. Now at sixteen, he was no longer a short, bald and slightly dorky looking kid. He was a handsome, six foot tall, well muscled kid with a thick, full head of black hair, who wore a long sleeved red shirt in the winter, and a short sleeved one in the summer, with either combat cut off shorts, or grey jeans. His ever present combat boots didn't change during the winter, only to be replaced with red, white and blue trainers in the summer. His light grey blue eyes were still hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, though these sunglasses were mirrored and were also a projection screen linked to his computer, enabling him to operate the computer from in the field. Nigel Uno was still completely "Anal Retentive" according to Number Four but he had mellowed some over the last few years. He didn't go out with Lizzie any more, having dumped her aged fifteen due to her lack of…intelligence though he was too polite to say so and instead called it " a lack of awareness of others, self and surroundings."
Number Two had thrown himself into his machines and inventions, his weight falling off of him. He wasn't a little lad by any means but he no longer had the rolls of fat he used to. Now he was a sleeker, more refined version of himself with a perchance for sweet teenaged girls with glasses and an interest in mechanics. He had picked up one of them when he was fourteen and she was thirteen and they were still going strong nearly three years later. He still had his flight cap, but had upgraded it to a sleek leather black version, with badges of various types littered across it. His once dorky flight goggles were now a vintage collectors item, and drew the girls to him by the tens, though his shaggy brown hair and brilliant blue eyes didn't harm his chances either. Considering Hoagie Gillian wasn't the most social guy it was a remarkable achievable. Ditching the high waisted brown trousers with high done turn-ups and the too tight blue shirt, for low slung dark brown or stone jeans and a good many looser shirts in varying shades of blue had been for the better, his oversized trainers being switched for loafers. He looked and sounded, and dare they say it...appeared in every way so much better.
Number Three...well in some ways she had grown up and in others she hadn't. Upon being recommissioned she had fallen into an eight day funk, the cause of which was the honest to God fact that she realised she was growing up and so was her team. On the ninth day, she had made pancakes for the whole sector five team and then forgot all about the funking out. Classic Kuki Sanban operating procedure. Instead of moping and reminding herself of their increasing age, she had thrown herself into the world of cheerleading and into sporting and indeed enough had found herself with more than enough admirers. She didn't go out with them though, choosing to remain at home with the rest of Sector Five...but at least she wasn't short of people to ask her to prom or whatever. Now that she was sixteen nearly seventeen, she was still hung up on the idea of rainbow monkeys and she still slept with about sixty in her bed...Number Five thought she'd be taking those damn monkeys on her honeymoon, and on her wedding night, as well if she had her way. She still wore green though now in every combination of mini-shirts, jumpers, blouses, trousers and shorts...it was beyond unenviable that she could do that...any other girl ended up looking like the veg stand at the supermarket. Though she still didn't use her hands that often for anything like normal people – like cooking, eating, and picking stuff up... She still had a crush on Number Four but it had faded more in recent months and she was becoming less...awkward around him much to the boy's obvious relief. Her height was still quite small though, only just pushing five five much to her disgust, but her long black hair had been neatened into a pixie bob and her vivid brown eyes had turned almond shaped, revealing her Japanese heritage.
Number Five had matured, both physically, mentally and emotionally. Her short tunic dress in blue and white buckled shoes had been replaced by black and white semi-platform shoes and a slightly more decent mid-thigh length tunic dress in blue. Her red hat though was the same. She refused to give that up~ It was Abbie Lincoln's Trademark and that was, in her books at least, enough to warrant its continued presence upon her head. Her long brown hair had been cut to mid shoulder, and micro braided, with colourful beads on the ends, holding true to her African heritage, though the feathers and tassels spoke of her Native American Indian heritage. Despite her informal dress sense, her mind was sharper than ever, the sass in her voice now tempered with the wiseness of a veteran in the field and the coyness of a person who knew exactly what they wanted and weren't too fussy about sticking it to you. She was still sassy though to everyone, even the big people at the top of the food chain but in light of her service to the force they let her get away with it. Her romance life had been quite rare, her two boyfriends had been a casual affair and they had split both times amicably. Never the less, she was a firm friend and no slouch in the looks department; her high cheekbones were the envy of most of the town, her figure hard won through hours of intensive training with Number Four and her clothes the result of the many hours she spent shopping with Kuki and her skin carefully maintained. There was no denying it, Abby Lincoln was definitively beautiful and seriously dangerous...
Number Four had changed as well, from his looks to his brains. His height now topped five eight, but he was still due in for at least another growth spurt. Despite his height, he was very slender, almost to the point of girl-ish, his inability to show muscle mass even though he had it was a constant annoyance to him. His blue jeans and orange hoodie hadn't changed in years, and his white trainers hadn't either. He just maintained that he could find what he needed when that was pretty much all he had. He had taken to wearing a little beaded necklace, white and black around his neck, and another around his wrist. Nobody knew why he wore them or indeed where they came from or even who gave them to him. It was just one of his many mysteries. On the occasions the team went to the beach, he wore a beaded anklet as well. It seemed he was quite the surfer boy. Wallabee Beatles also had surprised everyone; in that he had learnt to swim, far better than anyone ever expected and he took up surfing for a past time. His hair was shaggy still, though now it wasn't the lame-ass pudding bowl cut he'd had all the way through childhood but the far more awesome hair style that, according to Number Five was "hott sexy, like he's just had hott smexy sex and he t'ain't bothered wit' hidin' it." No-one pretended to understand half of what she said but they all agreed on that. With his deep emerald green eyes and smoking hot body, when Number Four stared at you in the right kind of way, you could feel the smouldering of his eyes, and see the flames rising up in him and many people often had quite embarrassing reactions to the stare; namely the staring back, the drooling and the popping up of mini-people in the lower department. It was to be short, HOTT and AWESOME. For all his down right attractiveness, Wally, or Lee as he now preferred was still more interested in fighting and doing what he wanted than dating girls but he had come out when he was fourteen, telling his friends that he was bisexual. He liked boys and girls, but only had had female relationships so far. Four of them to be precise, the longest being three months long, the shortest being exactly eleven minutes. No-one quite knew how that last one had ended up being so badly wrong...Number Five maintained it was a blow-job gone wrong but Lee just shot her down in flames.
Now, they were looked up to by most of the organisation, praised as examples of the paragons of Greatness and were even immortalised in the KND and TOTR and AOTB (Adults On The Block) Halls of Fame and Glory. They had retained the privilege all the way up through the years, right up there on the leader board consistently in the top ten teams worldwide, right into their last few years of high school, and now that they were all sixteen approaching seventeen, apart from one, they were given the most complex, the most difficult and the most dangerous missions.
No longer did they deal with dead end villain like Count Spankalot, or the Toilenator…Now they had serious villains that liked to set bombs rigged to children's fairground rides or criminals who stole weapons grade uranium to sell to illegal arms dealers to make nuclear bombs designed to blow up a continent or four…It was a far cry from their old life of fighting against the grown-ups. Now they dealt with evil little bastards for whom world domination wasn't achieved by mass flushing of kids but machine guns, armed guards, deadly diseases that could wipe out half the world's population in a week and with villain-esses who thought to take over the world in revenge for spurned love.
The last mission had been simple in comparison to half the missions they went on these days. Using the patented L.O.C.K. B.R.E.A.K.E.R (LOCK OPENER/CRACKER KIT – BIG RESONANT ECHO ACHIEVED KRACKING EVERY ROOM) they were to break into a manor house belonging to a major international villain, gain access to his computer, download the contents, retrieve the missing Diamonds of the Countess Milson (worth an estimated 22.3 million dollars) and leave. Preferably without the villain noticing that his house was being broken into. Easy and quick, the mission statement had said they would be no more than an hour, in and out.
….Unfortunately for them…the last mission had not gone well…
Hey, just be doing my little cross-posting for the week~
Next chapter is coming as soon as I can find it on my incredibly disorganised computer, so yeah. About five hours.
Review please, in the meantime!
Love ya all~