The Healy Team (A Roseanne spin-off)

[Bea]

Operation: K.I.D.N.A.P.P.E.D.

Summary: Mark Healy a.k.a Numbuh One is overtired, overworked and both physically and mentally exhausted. But when Becky a.k.a Triple Six is kidnapped and experimented on by a mad scientist, he knows he must gather all his strength to face the greatest challenge of his life.

Numbuh One (Mark Healy) hit the floor, hitting his head on something as he fell. He saw the advancing shape of the 14-year-old KidQ towering over him. He had made a deadly mistake and he knew it.

Numbuh Two (Sarah Ashley) leapt at KidQ, knocking her back. Numbuh Five (Nicola Foster) appeared behind the stricken leader and dragged him out of harm's way, leaving Numbuhs Two, Three (Charli McCoy) and Four (Nathan Thomas) to finish off the discouraged teenager.

"You ok, boss?" She asked. The dark haired man smiled vaguely up at her.

"Hmm?" He asked. Though there were no coherent words spoken, Numbuh Five knew what he meant.

"Yeah, we kick ass." She said, smiling. The rest of her teammates gathered round the two. "KidQ couldn't beat the Healy Team!"

"Oh, but she could, you know." Said Numbuh One, beginning to regain his senses. "I was stationed with her before she was decommissioned, and I can't think of any of the others I was with that could beat her one on one. I certainly couldn't!"

"You came pretty close, though!" Numbuh Two pointed out.

"Not close enough." Numbuh One sighed wistfully, rubbing his head.

"Give yourself a break, boss!" Numbuh Five said. "She is four years older than you, and I think you been working that amazin' brain too much. You look terrible. You need sleep."

"Good idea." Numbuh One muttered drowsily, resting his aching head against the wall. "Do wake me if anything comes up."

He staggered off in the direction of his room.

"Man, I'm kinda glad Numbuh One has finally agreed to take some rest!" Numbuh Five said. "He is up all the time messing with machinery or workin' out a mission."

"Yeah, and he looked pretty beat. You know, I reckon he could've beaten that KidQ punk if he was fresh and not quite so tired. He came pretty close." Numbuh Two added thoughtfully.

Numbuh Three settled down in front of the television to watch her favourite show, The Simpsons, while Numbuh Four trooped off to get some Soda. Numbuh Five relaxed in the sofa with one of her magazines and Numbuh Two started fiddling with a radio controlled aeroplane.

The four members of the KND felt like dozing off themselves in the warm afternoon sun. With no missions because of Numbuh's One's exhaustion and the attack of KidQ, they had the rest of the afternoon off.

Suddenly a sickeningly familiar sound shook them out of their reverie of thoughts and relaxations. The siren from Numbuh One's room sounded, signalling that all the kids should go there immediately.

"What now?" Numbuh Four asked exasperatedly. "Just when I thought I had a minute to settle down!"

"Relax!" Numbuh Five smirked. "He's probably dislodged a pillow or something."

The four of them raced to Numbuh One's room, which opened for them like it always did. They stopped in the middle of the floor, waiting for their leader to emerge. He did not.

"Hey, where's Numbuh One?" Numbuh Two asked. The others shrugged.

A faint whimper came from somewhere above their heads, causing them to look up and discover Numbuh One's reason for sounding the alarm. There, about six foot off the ground, he was. Someone had managed to loop a cord around his neck and was attempting to choke him by tightening it against the wall.

His sunglasses had fallen off and broken in the struggle, though at the precise moment he really didn't care. He had managed to hook his thumbs in the noose, which was the only thing that saved him from strangulation.

Though he was putting up a good fight, he was rapidly tiring. His writhing kicks were steadily becoming slower and weaker, as sheer exhaustion took over and he began to succumb to the suffocating cord.

"Quick!" Numbuh Five yelled, taking command in the urgency of the situation. Numbuh Three grabbed her T.H.U.M.P.E.R, but couldn't do anything for fear of hitting her leader.

Numbuh Four grabbed some toilet plungers and began climbing his way up the wall towards his leader, who was making little choked sobs of desperation. Numbuh One couldn't see his teammate; his eyes were screwed shut as he struggled in vain against the garrotting twine.

Numbuh Four reached his goal and, producing a thin knife from one of his pockets, slit through the strangling cord. Numbuh One fell to the floor, rubbing his neck and gasping for breath.

"Are you ok?" Asked four different concerned voices of the kids crowding around him. He blinked a few times to clear his vision before picking up his broken glasses and putting them back on.

"Yes, I - I think." He began in his pronounced accent. He got to his feet but immediately had to steady himself against the wall. Numbuh Five stepped forward, concern written on her face.

"Numbuh Five thinks you're still in need of that nap." She commented. The British boy looked up angrily, his glasses falling down his nose and hanging on by one grip.

"No!" Numbuh One snapped. "I'm going for a walk. I am fed up of people trying to bleeding well kill me!"

And he stormed off out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The four remaining members looked at each other.

"Well." Numbuh Two said stoically. "That could have gone better."

~

Numbuh One strode angrily down the street. Why was it always he that was targeted first? Granted, he was the leader of the Healy Team by his wife Becky, but it always seemed to be him that the enemy wanted to kill first. The strangulation, KidQ heading straight for him... even that fly that had broken in once, it went straight for him!

He didn't register which way he was going, or even which part of town he was in. He was too angry to register much as the landscape went blurring past him. He would do his best to fix his glasses with sellotape before getting a replacement; they were annoying him even further by bouncing around and hanging determinedly off his ear.

He heard a rustling in the trees behind him and spun round, sending his glasses flying.

"Look, just leave me alone!" He yelled irately, stooping to pick them up.

A blurred vision passed his own before something heavy hit him in the chest, throwing him to the ground and winding him. He felt hands press against his neck, where the bruises from his earlier ordeal were already prominent and dark.

Opening his eyes, he saw his attacker. She was wearing a hooded tunic tied at the waist with a rope, though in the flurry before she pinned him down, her hood had become dislodged and he could see some of her features.

She had deep brown eyes, and brown hair highlighted with flecks of blond. She glared mercilessly down at him and he felt proud. If he had to be beaten, he wanted to be beaten by a true warrior.

"State your name and business, boy!" Came a cold voice from beneath the hood.

"Numbuh One, Healy Team operative." Numbuh One said, deciding to be straight. To his surprise, his assailant got off him, allowing him to stand up.

"Mark, I mean Numbuh One?" She asked in her soft tone. "Please accept my apologies, I didn't mean to be so rough."

"You... know of me?" Numbuh One asked curiously. The hooded woman laughed, a sound that sent shivers down his spine.

"Of course! You're very well spoken of at HQ!"

"And, er... who do I have the pleasure of greeting?" the dark haired man asked in his formal tone.

"Numbuh Six Six Six, but please, call me Triple Six. It's much easier and I find people get tongue-tied by saying 'six' too many times over but I'm also your wife Becky"

"Triple Six? You mean the Triple Six, Becky, I mean Triple Six?" Numbuh One gasped. "The heroine of so many top secret missions?"

"Ah, c'mon," Triple Six muttered, "It was a few poxy spying things. I'm only a decommissioning assassin. I don't even outrank Numbuh 86!"

"Ah, but you should do!" Numbuh One said. "You've contributed so much more than her, but she takes all the credit."

"Hmm..."

Realising that the subject was uncomfortable for the newcomer, Numbuh One decided to change it.

"What are you doing round here, anyway?"

"I'm taking part in a new mission, and I'm stationed at... your place." Triple Six shrugged. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not!" Numbuh One grinned. "It's an honour to have someone as highly recommended as you staying with us, and I'm sure the others will agree. I'll show you the way."

Walking side by side, they set off back towards the tree house. Triple Six glanced at Numbuh One every now and again. He was just about to ask why when she answered his unspoken question for him.

"Those bruises on your neck... they look pretty nasty. I hope I didn't cause them...?" She asked, genuinely concerned. He shook his head, grinning.

"No. I was attacked back at the tree house by a maniac who tried to garrotte me." He answered wryly, rubbing his throat.

"I'm sorry a jumped on you like that." Triple Six commented guiltily. "I thought you were someone else. If I had known, I would never..."

"Ssh." He said comfortingly. "Don't let it get to you. You didn't really hurt me."

They walked towards the tree house, where Numbuhs Two through Five were all worrying about the health and safety of their leader.

[Bea]

Numbuh Five paced the tree house. She was worried, as were here friends, about their leader. He had been gone for a while, and it would soon be getting dark.

"If Numbuh One ain't back soon, I'm goin' after him myself!" She stated, and there were no disagreements in the group, who were all equally afraid. Numbuh Five continued pacing for a while, glancing at her watch every few minutes. Finally she stopped.

"Numbuh One's gone too long for my liking!" She announced, heading toward the door. She had just put her hand on the doorknob to open it when the door swung inwards, knocking her to the floor.

"Hello! I'm back!" Numbuh One announced, glancing in puzzlement at Numbuh Five. "Numbuh Five, why are you one the floor?"

"I got a bit tired and decided to take a nap!" Numbuh Five answered grumpily. Just her luck to choose to go find him the moment he came back. She peered at the figure behind Numbuh One. "And who is that?"

"This?" Numbuh One said triumphantly. "This is my wife Becky a.k.a Numbuh Six Six Six, or Triple Six as she likes to be called."

There was a host of blank faces, all apart from Numbuh Two.

"Triple Six?" He asked joyfully, rushing forward and relentlessly shaking her hand. "I've heard so much about you, you're, like, the most recommended spy at Headquarters!"

"Er... thanks!" Came the voice of Becky Connor-Healy from beneath the hood as Triple Six tried to pull her hand away. A vague recognition dawned on Numbuh Four.

"Oh, are you that one under Numbuh 86?" He asked suspiciously. "Y'know, from the Decommissioning Squad?"

"Yeah. But I'm here on a solo mission." Replied Triple Six. "There was some weird stuff in the records from around here, y'know? Apparently street kids have been disappearing one at a time, including two of our operatives, and I'm here to find out why. I'm teaming up with Numbuhs Six, Eight and Ten. They're street kids, too, y'know."

"Sounds weird." Numbuh Two said absentmindedly, and Triple Six suspected he hadn't been listening to a word she said. Luckily, she didn't really mind.

"Yeah, well... we've come to the conclusion it can't be the police because they usually just tell the kids to buzz off and find a cardboard box or something."

"Numbuh Five thinks maybe them kids have been arrested!" the Quiet One said, putting in her own two cents.

"We thought that at first, but we sent a delegation team down to infiltrate the county prisons, and there were no kids in sight."

"uh... I think you should try Juvenile offenders!" Numbuh Five said sarcastically. She had taken an immediate disliking to her leader's wife.

"We tried that as well. We sent Numbuh Six down there, and there was no one there he recognised, and he knows pretty well all of the Street Kids."

"I've agreed to let her use the spare room in the tree house. If anyone has any problems with that, then come and speak to me now." Numbuh One challenged. Numbuh Five fancied that he looked pointedly at her when he said this, but she stayed put.

Numbuh One was the strongest of the five Kids Next Door, and they knew that even in the exhausted state he was in, he would be able to beat anyone of them if it came down to it.

"Thanks." Triple Six said, smiling. "You've been so nice to me, and I don't know if I can ever thank you all enough."

"Don't mention it." Mumbled Numbuh Five, glaring.

Numbuh One checked his watch.

"Hmm. I really should be going." He said, half to himself. "I promised Sarah I would meet her at seven. I was late last time, I can't be late again. Gotta dash!"

He pressed a button on the side of one of his boots, activating the rocket packs. He soared out through the skylight.

"Sarah?" Triple Six asked, puzzled.

"His ex-girlfriend." Numbuh Four explained. "I don't know why he keeps going out with her. She's so... possessive! One time he tried to hang out with us and she brainwashed him through a helmet and made him attack us! And he won!"

"Hmm." Triple Six murmured. "I hate that type of woman."

~

Numbuh One strode down the street towards Sarah's house, clutching the flowers tightly by the stalks and humming slightly to himself.

The first odd thing he noticed was that the lights were off at Sarah's house. This aroused his suspicion, and he moved towards the door cautiously. Then he saw the note tacked on to the wood.

He ripped it off and read it, with the wind rustling through the trees behind him.

The flowers dropped to the floor.

[Bea]

Numbuh Two was showing Becky one of his video games. Triple Six hadn't had many chances to play video games, and Numbuh Two was beating her easily. Numbuhs Three and Four were cheering on their respective favourite, while Numbuh Five was sitting grumpily to the side, watching the rest with distaste.

Suddenly the door swung open. Mark wandered disjointedly in. His eyes and face were blank, like those of a zombie. He was in an unseeing daze, ignoring his friends as he walked past..

A slip of paper fluttered down from his pocket as he disappeared into his room, the door closing with an ominous creak after him. Numbuh Five picked up the paper and read it curiously.

"Oh, man!" she said. "I don't think Numbuh One will want disturbing for a while."

"What is it? What is it?" Numbuh Three bounced. Numbuh Five took a deep breath.

"To Mark," she read. The others snickered a bit, but stopped when they saw her expression. "I'm sorry I'm not here to greet you, but I've been offered a business deal in Australia. I only found out today, or I would have told you sooner. We've gone, I don't know how long for. I would have come round, but we had to dash off to get the last plane. Goodbye, your pal, Sarah."

A heavy silence fell over the unfortunate man's wife and friends.

"Man, that's an ouchie!" Numbuh Two stuttered finally. Numbuh Five quietly opened the door to Numbuh One's room. He was lying on the bed, unmoving and staring at the ceiling. His friend closed the door again.

"I think he's in shock." She told her teammates. Becky, who had been listening intently to the whole conversation, looked confused.

"Sarah's gone to Australia." Numbuh Four informed her. "To be honest, I'm glad I left!"

"Listen up!" Numbuh Five ordered. "I want you all the be nice to Numbuh One. He's bound to be upset for the next few days at least, and I'll be very angry if you make it worse!" She glared around the room as though daring someone to disobey.

"I'm hungry." Numbuh Two stated, completely changing the subject. "Who's turn is it to get the fries?"

"Numbuh One's!" Numbuh Three said happily, pointing at the closed door.

"Well, we can hardly expect him to go out now. I reckon we should draw straws to see who goes instead." Numbuh Four volunteered.

The four members of International Rescue drew lots, watched by a bemused Becky Connor-Healy. Numbuh Four drew the short straw and set off for the local takeaway, grumbling.

Numbuh Five, looking for a chance to belittle Becky, took Numbuh Two on at his video game. She won and looked round triumphantly, only to find Becky laughing as she watched Numbuh Three dance with her soft toys.

The redheaded woman looked up to see that the virtual battle had finished.

"My turn, my turn!" She squealed happily, pushing Numbuh Two aside and challenging a disgruntled Numbuh Five.

Becky went off to sit with Numbuh Two, who was fiddling with a remote control aeroplane, trying to get it to work.

"What's the matter?" The blonde haired new agent asked. Numbuh Two continued fiddling with the toy.

"Numbuh Four spilt soda on it and it hasn't worked properly since. I replaced all the pieces in the remote and it flies, but it keeps flying round in circles."

Becky squinted at the contraption, though instead of looking at the remote, she was focusing on the plane itself.

"Look," she said, pointing to the underside of the wing. "The circuit's failed here. Fix that and it should fly right again."

Numbuh Two fiddled about with the circuitry and set the plane the right way up before switching it on and test flying it. It flew fine.

"Hey!" He said happily. "How did you know that?"

"My dad was an engineer at a mechanics back in Lanford. Sometimes when I was younger I would go with him, and I learnt a bit about aerodynamics."

"I made a flying machine, you know." Numbuh Two stated. Becky looked up in interest.

"I'd like to see that before I go." She said, indirectly asking a question. Numbuh Two nodded.

"Fine by me!"

Numbuh Four burst in, soaking wet and clutching a number of small brown paper bags.

"It's raining outside." He said, stating the obvious.

"You better not have got my fries wet!" the Quiet One threatened.

"Relax, it's all dry!" The blonde Australian handed out the bags to his friends. There was one bag left over. It was Mark's.

"What'll we do with Numbuh One's food?" Numbuh Three asked. Numbuh Five picked up the bag of takeaway fries. She put them next to Numbuh One's door and knocked loudly.

"Boss, I've left your meal out here if ya want it!" She shouted.

The door opened, revealing Mark. He looked even more exhausted than before, and they could all see clearly the tear tracks on his cheeks where he had been crying.

"Thanks, guys." He said, taking the bag and sniffing slightly. "I need this."

He disappeared back into the room from which he had emerged.

Becky looked at the spot where her husband had been standing just moments before. She had heard so much about his job at headquarters, but now she had met him and seen his weaknesses, she realised he was only human.

"Uh......... I think I'll turn in." She said to her housemates, picking up her back of fries to take back to her room. "I've got an early start and a busy day tomorrow, what with meeting up with the others."

She smiled, said her goodnights and headed up the stairs to the room they had let her have, which was on a different level to theirs.

[Bea]

Becky grimaced as she stared down at the takeaway fries. Contrary to Numbuh Four’s belief, they had gotten quite wet in the storm and now both taste and texture were reminiscent of cardboard.

Hurling the chips into the wastebasket, the blonde agent tiptoed out of her room down the stairs and past the doorways of Numbuhs Five and Two, skirting a wide berth around the door of Mark.

Reaching the kitchens, she opened the fridge as her stomach gave a complaining gurgle. It took her a moment, staring blankly into the fridge, to realise that there was nothing edible there. There was a half eaten sausage and some mouldy cheese, and a few hamster treats. Her stomach clenched again and she resignedly reached for the hamster treats.

They weren’t all that bad, she thought as she munched them reflectively, walking back towards her room. A bit on the stale side, but at least they tasted all right. She climbed the stairs that lead up to the gang’s rooms and stopped outside her and Mark’s door. Shoving the bag of hamster nibbles in one of the pockets of her tunic she placed an ear against the wood and listened intently. There was a noise from within. She knocked on the door.

“Go away.” Came the voice of the leader. Becky smiled wryly to herself and opened the door anyway.

A forlorn little bundle lay on the bed. The late twentysomething blonde woman approached it cautiously, inwardly sighing with relief when it gave a shudder.

“Are you ok?” she asked. The silhouetted form jolted upright.

“B-Becky... what are you doing...?” Mark stuttered, seeing her face in the eerie glow of a desk lamp.

“I came in to check on you. You dain’t look too good earlier.” She chuckled. “Nah, you looked terrible earlier.”

Mark blinked and looked down.

“It’s just... you know... it’s not like me and Sarah ever actually kissed or anything, but...”

“Shush up there, Mark. If it ain't tough enough being dumped at all, it’s harsh to dump someone by post-it, even if you weren’t fanatical for each other. But, say she hadn’t left you the note. What would you have done? From what I’ve heard, you’re naturally suspicious. It woulda bin so much more mentally taxing for you if your gal had gone missing and you hain’t found that liddle note.”

Mark looked up at her, his eyes hidden behind his dark glasses, which he wore even in the sub-light of his room.

“I... I never looked at it that way...”

“I guess I’m just an optimist.” Becky shrugged. “I wasn’t always, though. Especially after the incident with Him.”

Mark was shocked at the hatred in her voice as she finished her sentence and knew instantly that the word “them” was to her more than just a third person pronoun.

His friend shook her head as though trying to clear it, sitting down on the side of the bed next to him.

“Thanks for your help, Becky.” He said. She smirked at him.

“Who can grudge a bird to fly so high, if he flies on his own wings?” She asked. Mark puzzled inwardly over the strange words, wondering why she would have said them.

“You’ve been so kind to me... you’re really helped... who knows how long I might have been grieving otherwise... how can I ever repay you?” He asked, giving a proper smile for the first time that evening.

“You kidding? I don’t want repaying; this is what friends are for! Though if you want to repay me you can help me figure out why all the kids are disappearing. So there!” And Becky stuck her tongue out at her husband, who mock – scowled back.

“Don’t push your luck! You barely convinced me to give you a room! You’re paying for it after tonight!” He snapped, before dissolving in a helpless fit of giggles at the sight of her crestfallen face. “Mark Healy, you should see your face! You look like Christmas’s been cancelled!”

She laughed and pushed him playfully. He retaliated in the same way, sending her sprawling across the floor. Immediately he was out of the bed and by her side.

“I’m sorry! You aren’t hurt, are you?” He asked, his voice heavy with concern.

“I’m fine, Mark. Unnhh... you’re damn strong, though...”

Mark nodded in silent agreement. This was true. He wasn’t the largest of kids around, more one of the taller ones but his strength was still unusual compared to his height.

He smiled slightly and gave her a hand up. She was about Becky's height, maybe a bit shorter, and very much lighter than he, so he did not have to exert himself while helping her to her feet. He looked into piercing green eyes that were half shrouded by the hood.

Without realising what he was doing, he slid one hand behind her back and pulled her into a hug before planting his lips on hers and kissing her.

Becky stood frozen for a moment before breaking away from Mark. She was shaking from head to toe and looked as though she might collapse any moment. She glanced swiftly at her husband, shock and fear stamped on her face, before turning and running. The door slammed behind her.

Mark watched her go as the enormity of what he had done hit him. Suddenly he was cold, breaking out in a freezing sweat with his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Shivering spasmodically, he staggered back over into his bed, pulling the covers up over his head.

Everything had happened so fast it was difficult to comprehend. One minute they were laughing and joking and then... he cursed himself silently. Why had he made the advance on her? She was never going to look at him as a friend again! What had possessed him? He had not ever looked at her in that way before, never even contemplating it! She was a friend, not someone he would dream of kissing! Why?

Thoughts of Sarah came rushing back, adding to his confusion and he sank into an even deeper state of depression that he had been in when Becky knocked on his door.

Mark cried himself to sleep that night.

[Bea]

Mark was an early riser by nature, but this particular morning he was woken not by dawn birdsong, but by a heavy knocking on his door.

“Numbuh One,” came the concerned voice of Numbuh Four, “you want breakfast?”

“What time is it?” was Mark’s sleepy reply.

“Ten.”

The dark haired man came awake with a jolt.

“Ten? All ready? Why didn’t you wake me?” He asked indignantly, leaping out of bed and getting ready for breakfast. He heard the Australian chuckle.

“Relax, Numbuh One, we’ve only just got up ourselves. I thought I’d wake you cause you’re usually up before us.”

The door opened in front of the Australian, revealing a tired looking Mark, who walked down the corridor with his teammate.

True to Numbuh Four’s word, the rest of the team were sleepy-eyed, almost like zombies as they automatically prepared themselves breakfast. Only Becky was absent, but no one though much of it.

Breakfast progressed slowly, the only thing of interest was when Numbuh Three spilt milk on the floor. Minutes ticked by and still there was no sign of Becky. Mark became increasingly worried. What if he had scared her away by his actions last night?

“Has anyone seen Triple-Six this morning?” He asked, keeping his voice carefully blank. The response was negative, the elusive blonde agent remaining unaccounted for.

“Maybe she’s still sleeping?” Numbuh Three suggested, pointing up the stairs. Mark nodded doubtfully.

“Let’s go check.”

The door to Becky’s room was slightly ajar. Numbuh Five pushed it open cautiously, somersaulting in and training a homemade weapon on the room. Seeing the coast clear, she signalled for the others to come in.

The room was deserted. Some of Becky’s things were scattered across the floor and Numbuh Four picked his way through them uneasily, making his way to the centre of the room.

“Anything?” Mark called out to his friends, each of who were examining different parts of the room.

“Nope.”

“No.”

“Nothing.”

“Hold on,” came the muffled voice of Numbuh Two from under the bed. “I found something!”

The ‘something’ turned out to be a crude note, written in Triple-Six’s scrawled handwriting. It read: ‘Dnt wry gn 2 c #s 6 8 & 10.’ Mark squinted at it.

“What do you suppose it means?” He asked his friends. Numbuh Five smirked.

“Are you all blind? It says ‘Don’t worry, gone to see Numbuhs 6, 8 and 10.’ Becky must have been in a hurry and scribbled it out before she went.”

“Well...” Mark breathed a sigh of relief. “At least we know she’s safe. She can take care of herself out there.” He subconsciously rubbed his neck, where the bruises from his recent ordeal stood out prominent and dark.

~

Becky walked down the main street of the suburbs, enjoying the feeling of the brisk morning air against her face. She had her hood down and, contrary to what Mark had seen, her hair was a bit shorter than it was when they got married. Outwardly she appeared happy and carefree, but inwardly she was tense and confused.

She was still puzzling about the previous night. She didn’t know what had possessed Mark to act like he did. He was usually a quiet, taciturn sort of fellow, not given to extrovert revelations of his feelings, which he was usually brilliant at disguising in emotionless eyes behind dark glasses.

However, it was not the fact that he had kissed her that scared her most. It was the fact that she had enjoyed it. After she had ran back to her room, she had silently cursed herself for breaking away from him. And she knew that her actions as well as his must have plunged him into an emotional dilemma. He would be feeling scared and confused, just as she was.

A birdcall from in front of her brought her back from her mixed emotions into the immediate reality. She clasped her hands and blew into them, returning the call.

“Who goes? State your name and business!” A threatening voice from ahead of her shouted.

“Triple Six of the Healy Team. Numbuh Six, stop acting macho. I know you. If you hurt a fly it would be on your conscience for the rest of your life.”

A young Jamaican boy with shoulder-length dreadlocks came out of the shadows. He was dressed in cargo shorts and an open jerkin that revealed his bare and skinny chest, and was sporting a grin so wide it looked as though the top of his head was in danger of falling off.

“You’re right there, Triple Six. You’ll be here about Seven and Nine, I guess?” Becky nodded the affirmative. “C’mon then, I’ll show you to the den.”

The den turned out to be an abandoned cellar. The entrance that opened on to the street was cleverly disguised to look like a disused coal trap, and Becky was a bit nervous about going in.

“Er... are you sure that this is the right coal trap, Numbah Six? I don’t want to be burned in someone’s fire, y’know.”

“Relax! I know these streets like the back of my hand. This is the right one all right. C’mon, the others are waiting down there for you.” Numbuh Six grinned and leapt into the trap while Becky was holding the wooden trapdoor open for him. The blonde woman took a deep breath and plunged in after him.

After what seemed an eternity of sliding down a metal slope, she tumbled out into a bale of straw at the bottom. Regaining her sense of direction, she fought her way to the surface and looked around into the friendly face of Numbuh Six. A boy of similar age with scruffy blonde hair and a deadpan expression stood behind him.

“This is Numbuh Ten. I don’t think you guys have met?” Numbuh Six asked. Triple Six smiled, but Numbuh Ten merely nodded once. As Numbuh Six, the blonde boy was wearing cargo shorts but instead of a jerkin like his Jamaican counterpart he wore a polo neck jumper.

An impatient sigh from the corner alerted Becky to another occupant of the cellar. A pale, tired-looking girl dressed all in black was fiddling with a small homemade radio transmitter. She gave another sigh of frustration and flicked her black hair out of her face, tapping one of the earpieces on the headset she wore.

“Oh, that’s Numbuh Eight. You won’t get much sense out of her at the moment. She’s got a busy schedule.” Numbuh Six told her.

“Tough living here, is it?” Becky asked, not taking her eyes off Numbuh Eight.

“No, she lives here by choice. I mean she’s always busy. She’s part of Ground Patrol.”

Becky turned to face the Jamaican man.

“Ground Patrol? You mean THE Ground Patrol? OUR Ground Patrol? But... but... that’s really high ranking! That comes in just below Top Brass, like Numbuh 362! My god...”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought when she turned up... apparently she’s round this way to keep an eye over Subsection B27. Any bases round here radio her if the want arrivals or departures from MoonBase. Now y’know why she’s so busy?”

Becky nodded as Numbuh Six continued.

“Wanna know why she’s all in black? Well, I’ll tell you. Me ‘n’ Numbuh Ten call her Quicksilver. Quick-finger-silver-tongue is much too long, so we just call her Quicksilver, occasionally Numbuh Eight. Quick-finger is her handle coz she nicks all our stuff for us, money, food, clothes, you name it, and Silver-tongue coz she can talk her way out of it if she gets caught. She wears black so she don’t get caught.”

Becky and Numbuh Six looked again at Numbuh Eight, who was now talking into her headset.

“That’s affirmative, Numbuh 721. Your lift off will proceed in 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...” She said in a monotone voice.

“That’s another thing. She provides all the countdowns an’ all. She never takes that headset off, or at least I never seen her.”

The Ground Patrol operative walked calmly over and shook hands with Becky.

“Triple Six, right? You’ll be here to sort out the thing about the disappearing Healy agents. I guess you want some details, huh?”

Becky nodded. Suddenly the radio set blared into life.

“Calling Ground Patrol... calling Ground Patrol... Ground Patrol sector B, do you receive?”

“Damn!” Numbuh Eight cursed. “Numbuh Six, fill her in!” She rushed back over to the radio. “Ground Patrol receiving, awaiting statement.”

Becky glanced after her sadly.

“It never ends, it doesn’t. That radio’s always going off apart from when it’s broke and then she spends all her time fixing it.”

Becky coughed politely.

“Oh, yes. Well, I’m not really the one to be telling you. It should have fallen to Numbuh Seven or Numbuh Nine, but... they’ve both gone too... Quicksilver tried to contact them but they won’t reply... anyway, I digress. It started when one of Numbuh Ten’s mates didn’t come round for a briefing. Then another guy disappeared. Then Numbuh Seven told us her friend had gone. Then Numbuh Seven herself went missing. Numbuh Nine went to look for her and then he never came back.”

“You mentioned Numbuh Eight’s radio messages to them. Surely they should have received the transmission? The Healy Team have signal intercept towers in every country in the world, even one at MoonBase. There is no way they cannot have got the signal!” Becky intervened.

“Exactly. Which means that they are otherwise incapacitated. It’s got us all stressed out. No one knows what to do. I hope you can help?”

“Well, that’s why I’m here, though I suggest you don’t stay here anymore. From this all I can say is that as long as you are here you are under constant threat. Why not come back to the treehouse I’m lodging in?”

“Treehouse?” Numbuh Eight looked up sharply. “Which treehouse?”

“Um... Subsection B27... that would be... Firefly. Code Firefly.” The blonde agent hesitated as she tried to recall the codename of the treehouse.

“Firefly?” Numbuh Ten spoke for the first time. He had been lurking in the corner, watching every move. Becky had hardly noticed him. “That’s the one with that cute little Japanese girl, isn’t it?”

“Numbuh Three?” Becky replied coldly. “Yes, but you will be going there on business terms, not to socialise.”

“Maybe you should practise what you preach, Triple Six.” He replied in the same cold voice, the deadpan expression still on his face. Becky was glad of the hood, as her cheeks burned red.

*how does he know about that?... no... he must have guessed... he can’t know...* She thought to herself.

Numbuh Eight packed up her radio decisively in the awkward silence that had fallen on the room.

“I for one am not going to stay in this dump while treehouse Firefly is on offer, thank you very much!” She said, walking towards the door. Numbuh Six jumped up and followed her.

“Ok, Quicksilver. Coming, guys?”

Becky followed her two fellow operatives, with Numbuh Ten bringing up the rear. Though she could not see him, she could still feel his blank, emotionless eyes boring into the back of her skull. It gave her the impression that he was reading her mind.

In all honesty, she believed he was.

[Bea]

The doorbell of the Healy household rang. Even the occupants of the treehouse, who were about 40 storeys higher, heard its peal. Mark hauled himself out of the couch to go and answer it, but was overtaken by an enthusiastic Numbuh Three.

“My turn!” She yelled happily, streaking down the stairs leaving a disgruntled Mark in her wake.

“But it’s my damn house down there, I should be answering the door!” He complained, much to the amusement of Numbuh Two, who was sitting nearby.

“You just try and stop her.” He commented with a mischievous smirk. Mark tried a death-stare to try and force him into submission, but only caused his friend to smirk wider.

Numbuh Three walked back into the room, beaming.

“Gee, that was quick.” Numbuh Two commented as he and his leader glanced at the Japanese girl. “Who was at the door?”

“Oh, they’re just coming up.” Numbuh Three indicated the staircase. There were already muffled noises of complaint issuing from the direction.

“Stupid idiot girl. Can’t she walk maybe a fraction slower?”

“Oh, shut up, Numbuh Six. Your problem is that you ate too many of those cakes Quicksilver nicked the other day!”

“Whatever, I saw you eat at least six of them! How many were there again? Oh, I remember... six. If anyone’s fat round here, Numbuh Ten, it’s you.”

“Oh, put a sock in it, both of you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re both fat!”

“Look who’s talking, Miss Dunkin’ Donut 2001!”

“Be quiet, for god’s sake! I’ve got a call coming in!”

“Well, sorry. Having a bad day, are we?”

“Not half as bad as yours will be if you don’t shut up.”

Numbuh Three giggled into her sleeves. Mark cocked an eyebrow at Numbuh Two, who shrugged back. A heavy air of expectation hung over the two boys as their guests rounded the final corner of the stairs.

“Hi, guys.” Becky said. “Sorry I wasn’t around at brekky, business called. Um... I hope you don’t mind I brought some lodgers? Numbuhs Six, Eight and Ten.”

Mark nodded curtly and shook hands with the three new operatives.

“Numbuh Eight of the Ground Patrol, correct? It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his face blank “And Numbuhs Six and Ten. I hope we can throw some light into your case.”

“There is no need to bother yourself with that, Numbuh One,” Numbuh Six said, breaking away from Mark’s vicelike grip and rubbing his hand. “We already have Triple Six on the case, and we’re sure she will prove more than capable.”

Both Mark and Becky blushed.

“It may be wise, Numbuh Six, to have a backup team in case the infiltration does not go ahead as planned.” Numbuh Ten said in his flat, emotionless voice. Numbuh Two looked at him quizzically.

“Infiltration?” He asked.

“Dr Diablo's hideout.” Becky explained. “I’ll be setting off early tomorrow to infiltrate and look for any possible clues to the whereabouts of the missing agents.”

“So you think my borther David a.k.a Dr Diablo are involved?” Mark asked. Numbuh Eight nodded.

“We can see no alternative – damn, damn, damn... excuse me a moment...” She broke off as a voice came through her headset. “Ground Patrol receiving, awaiting statement...”

“Well, we just finished lunch...” Numbuh Two began. “wanna come eat?” He pointed towards the kitchen where Numbuhs Four and Five were already helping themselves to the home cooked food.

Numbuh Six ran towards the kitchen so fast that poor Numbuh Two was almost knocked over. Numbuh Three giggled and followed at a similar speed. Numbuh Ten prowled after them.

Both remaining boys turned to Numbuh Eight. The Ground Patrol operative finished her transmission and lifted the mouthpiece of her headset a fraction, giving them a rare smile. She too made her way to the kitchen, walking in a slow, dignified manner. Numbuh Two followed her, not wanting to miss the food.

Mark and Becky were left standing alone. There was a long awkward silence, with both sides looking firmly at the floor. Mark opened his mouth to speak to his wife, but just as he plucked up the courage she brushed past him, hurrying to the kitchen for the company of the others.

Mark was left staring at the empty space in front of him for a while as he metaphorically collected the pieces of his shattered ego. He snapped suddenly out of his reverie of thoughts before making his way to his own quarters, already preparing for the daring mission to be undertaken on the morrow.

After all, it was not every day someone infiltrated the enemy headquarters, and they had to be properly prepared.

[Bea]

True to her word, Becky was up before dawn the next morning. She could hear the occasional snuffle or snore from her team-mates’ rooms as she made her way down the stairs and along a back corridor that would take her out the back entrance of the treehouse.

She had equipped herself with the essentials, changing her tunic for a practical black ninja-like costume. She wore the same sort of jetpack boots now that Mark always wore, and had all her tools in her backpack.

Padding swiftly and silently down the corridor, she glanced back one last time at the warm atmosphere of the treehouse. She was undertaking a singly dangerous mission, and wasn’t sure she would make it back.

“Becky!” A voice from behind her came. She jumped with fright, passing a hand over her shaking heart.

“Mark!” She stuttered, breathing heavily. “What are you doing here at this abysmally early hour of the morning? Sane people sleep at this time!”

“Well then, I must be nuts.” The dark haired agent said with a smile. “Becky, if you wish to cancel the mission we shall of course accept. We do not expect you to undertake it.”

“Aw, get lost. I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mark.”

“Here. Um... I did it last night... it’s not completely accurate, but it may help...” Mark shuffled uncomfortably, holding out some paper to Becky, who took it and unfolded it.

“A map! Brilliant!”

“Um...” Mark began, “we haven’t really talked much about this... um... that thing in my room... um... I’m really sorry about it, I don’t know what came over me...”

“Hell, it doesn’t matter.” Triple Six replied, studying the map. “In fact, you beat me to it. I was going to apologise to you for running off like I did. I’m sorry about that.”

Mark was visibly taken aback.

“What? It’s my fault, I kissed you! You shouldn’t be apologising at all!”

“You kissed me, sure, but I enjoyed it and then acted like a selfish cow, running off without a ‘by your leave’ or even a thankyou!”

“You... you... enjoyed it?” The section leader faltered. Triple Six smiled kindly back at him.

“Yeah. It was... brilliant... but... I’ll be behind schedule if I hang any longer... see you later, maybe.”

Becky kissed Mark on the cheek and sprinted away down the corridor, hugging the shadows.

Mark stood still, watching her go. He couldn’t comprehend what had just been said. Surely she couldn’t have enjoyed it? But... she kissed him! On the cheek, but it was a proper kiss! Subconsciously he raised his hand to his face and brushed his cheek with his fingertips where she had kissed him.

“Good luck, Becky...” he whispered, before wandering back to his room in a daze.

~

Becky had encountered no problems getting over to Dr Diablo’s hideout; the jetpack boots she wore were adequate transport. Now she understood why Mark wore them all the time.

Looking round for danger, she unlatched a top floor window and slid silently in, turning off the jetpacks as soon as she landed on the soft carpet. Looking around she realised she was in a small room, much like a storage cupboard. She tried the door, but it was locked.

“Damn.” She muttered to herself, rummaging in her backpack for a thin knife, which she inserted skilfully into the lock. She twizzled it round one, twice and – click. The door swung open. Becky slotted the knife in her belt and glanced furtively about before padding silently down the corridor, her black clothing blending perfectly with the shadows.

She saw light coming from an open door and sidled up to it along the wall before peering inside. What she saw caused her to gasp in surprise before she clamped her hands over her mouth. Her husband's younger brother was on the phone, shouting at the receiver on the other end. Luckily he had not heard her. Whipping out a notepad and pen, she scribbled some notes on the phone call, which may be useful later.

“What do you mean ‘no trace’?” came the enraged voice from the other room. The Irish agent did not have to strain her ears to hear the man, that at least was a bonus. “I pay you well, do I not, and I do not expect a sloppily done job, is that clear?... Well, you try again and again until the results are positive, do you hear? No, I insist it take maximum priority. Now you listen to me, I shall file a complaint. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

There was a click and a thud as the receiver slammed down. Becky’s breath caught in her throat as she heard the heavy footsteps coming towards the door – if he left the room there was no way he could miss her.

Thinking quickly, she brought the small knife from her belt and thrust it in the wall, about waist height. She carefully tested her weight on it and, finding it to hold, hoisted herself up so one foot was standing on the blade and the other was not touching the floor.

Now if she strained she could just reach the wall lamps that were set on permanent dim, and she grabbed the nearest two and used them to pull herself further up the wall and thus out of sight.

She barely drew a breath as the dark man prowled past her. She waited until he was out of sight around the corner and then half a minute after that to make sure he wouldn’t come back before letting herself slowly to the floor, breathing a sigh of relief.

She tugged at the knife handle, trying to extract it from the wall. Unfortunately, however, the strength at which she had forced it into the wall combined with her weight on it had lodged it firmly into the plaster, and it was not going to budge. She shook her head in resignation and carried on down the corridor.

After traipsing silently down numerous corridors and two flights of stairs, she came to what she was looking for: the cells. A series of dark, crumbling rooms with heavy iron doors that were used to secure prisoners lined up a damp corridor. Triple Six suppressed a shudder as she made her way down the eerie place, looking through a small barred window on each door as she passed.

None of the cells had an occupant, which confused her even more. If it was not Dr Diablo who were responsible for the disappearing International rescue agents, who could it possibly be?

She silently moved down the hallway, almost wraith-like. The door at the end was locked shut, and the blonde woman cursed silently; her knife was still embedded in the wall two storeys up. She took a thin length of wire from her pocket and carried out the same procedure on the lock as she had with the knife.

As the door opened and she stole swiftly in, she was stopped by a sickeningly familiar voice.

“Darlene? Is that you?”

Becky turned her head, dreading what she may see. There he was, Dr Diablo, though Becky noted that there was something different about him. He was staring expectantly at the door, but could not see her as her dark clothing camouflaged her with the shadows. She swiftly closed the door and locked it, and the enemy slumped backward dejectedly.

... David?

Becky did a quick scan of the room, which confirmed her suspicions. There was only Dr Diablo – his bodyguards were nowhere to be seen.

She snapped back to her current predicament. She was trapped in a room with her arch-enemy, who even now were advancing curiously towards her, though they could not yet see her. If they came any closer, however, there was no way they could avoid bumping into her. It looked as though she would need her specially developed weapons: the S.T.I.C.K.A.P.O.R.T.s.

~Healy Team: S.T.I.C.K.A.P.O.R.T. – Super Tiny Implement Calmly Konnects A Person On Roof Tiles.

Becky was equipped with four S.T.I.C.K.A.P.O.R.T.s, one on each hand and one on the sole of each boot. She used them to climb up the wall and then she crouched on the ceiling, watching her enemies and calculating her escape.

Dr Diablo tried the door handle, only to find it was locked again. As he walked over to the single, small window in the room. Becky looked at it too, wondering if she could use it to get away.

Suddenly one of the S.T.I.C.K.A.P.O.R.T.s detached from the ceiling.

“Oh, c – ” Becky’s cry was cut off as her landing winded her. Dr Diablo’s head whipped round to look at her sprawled on the floor.

“What the – ?” The collective voice gasped. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

Becky picked herself up off the floor and backed into the corner, bringing a F.R.E.E.Z.E. gun out of her pocked.

“Don’t move! Stand still, or you really will freeze!” She ordered, training the weapon on the advancing man, who stopped moving and raised his hands.

“Where’s your pals?” The blonde agent asked, indicating the spaces where his bodyguards should have stood.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your bodyguards, Dog Breath! Where is he?”

Dr Diablo pondered this a moment and then answered with a single word:

“gone.”

All of a sudden a red lamp flashed and an alarm blared. Becky jumped with fright, before swallowing and trying to get over her respective shock, surveying the room quickly for an escape route. Dr Diablo, who was also her sister's ex-husband, burst through the door, not bothering to unlock it. He flung the knife expertly and it embedded itself in the floorboards at Becky’s feet, quivering. Dr Diablo, making the most of the woman’s distraction, knocked the weapon from her hand and trained it on her. The positions had reversed in the space of a minute.

Dr Diablo surveyed the captured spy, his voice laced with gloating as he spoke.

“Never leave your weapon, it may cost you your freedom.” He indicated the thin blade, which was still quivering slightly in the floor. “You may now tell us where you have hidden him.”

Becky had no idea what he was on about, so she remained silent. Already a plan was formulating in her mind. It was risky, but it was her only hope.

“Come on, you stupid bitch! It’s obvious you’ve got him and have come back for another!” The shadowed man hissed, sounding quite aggravated. After a pause, the blonde spy finally spoke.

“Never give your enemy’s weapon back to them, they may use it to escape.” And with these words she put her plan into action.

She grabbed the knife from the floor, cleverly using the flat of the blade to deflect an energy beam from the F.R.E.E.Z.E. gun. She activated the jetpacks on her boots and used them to dodge Dr Diablo's lunge. She flew to the window, stopping just out of his reach.

“So long, sucker! Thanks for the info!” She taunted, laughing at the anger on her nemesis’ face. She executed a somersault in midair to avoid another beam from the F.R.E.E.Z.E and, before any more shots could be fired, sped away back towards the treehouse.

[Bea]

“Where could she be?” Mark muttered, pacing the Briefing Room agitatedly and checking his watch. “She should have been back ages ago!”

Numbuh Six watched him, chewing thoughtfully on a bagel that was smothered with a generous helping of cream cheese and jam.

“Don’t know why you’re so worked up.” He commented suddenly, spraying crumbs everywhere. “She’s perfectly streetwise.”

“More streetwise than you in any case.” Numbuh Ten retorted in his flat voice, displaying no emotion on his face. Numbuh Six glared at him.

A noise behind them made them turn around. Becky was perched on the windowsill, grinning inanely. She dropped her backpack over the ledge and leapt in after it, landing on it and wincing as she heard an ominous crack.

“Hell, I hope that was just one of the S.T.I.C.K.A.P.O.R.T.S, coz the damned things don’t work right anyway.”

“How was it?” Mark asked, watching as the blonde woman shrugged off her jacket.

“Boring, mostly. Anyway, sorry I’m late. I got held up by that Nitbrain.” Becky bundled the folded jacket into her backpack, which she then slung casually over her shoulders.

“You got caught?” Numbuh Six gasped, finishing his bagel. “How did you escape?”

“Oh, same old crud. That weird creepy quack started gloating, said something about leaving your knife in the wall, so I kind of nicked the knife and flew off and gloated back. Very amusing.” Becky turned to Numbuh Eight, who had just finished transmitting a call and was approaching.

“Was there any useful information?” Was the Ground Patrol’s question. Becky nodded.

“No.”

“Helpful.” Numbuh Eight rolled her eyes as Becky grinned mischievously at her.

“Well, I did find out one thing...” The blonde woman said, her voice conspiratorially low, causing the other operatives to move closer in order to hear. “The Delightfuls aren’t responsible for the disappearances.”

“What? Who else could it possibly be?” Numbuh Six snapped, finding the idea of his archenemies’ innocence absurd.

“I’m not sure, but I’m certain that it’s not Dr Diablo that's behind this scam.”

“How can you be sure?” Numbuh Ten asked, though still without inserting any emotions into his voice.

“Dr Diablo's bodyguards have been taken.” Becky informed them, smiling slightly at the look of shock on every face except Numbuh Ten’s, who looked as though this was no surprise. “I was quite shocked when I saw. I thought they were, you know, surgically attached or something, but it appears not. That guy with the helmet’s gone.”

There was a stunned silence, which was broken by Numbuh Six, whose stomach gave a loud gurgle.

“Excuse me,” He mumbled an apology, patting his gut and heading off to the kitchen. Becky smiled fondly at his retreating back, shaking her head.

“For as long as I’ve known him I have never seen him not be able to eat anything if it’s on offer.” She commented to no one in particular. Mark raised an eyebrow.

“Sounds like someone we know, doesn’t it, Numbuh Two?” He said snidely, looking cynically at the mechanic, who blushed and turned away.

Numbuh Eight’s radio blared into life once more, a hoarse girl’s voice sounding from the other end.

“Numbuh Eight... Numbuh Eight... are you there?... code red, Numbuh Eight... we need help... can you receive?...”

Numbuh Eight looked up sharply, her eyes wide.

“That’s Numbuh Seven’s voice...” she whispered in surprise. She hurried over to the radio to transmit a reply, with her fellow operatives gathering round her curiously.

“Numbuh Seven, this is Numbuh Eight, what’s the matter?”

“Help us, Numbuh Eight... help... code red... we need reinforcements... can’t do this alone...”

“Hang in, Numbuh Seven. Where’s Numbuh Nine?” The Ground Patrol operative asked, barely keeping the worry from her voice.

“Nine?... Nine’s gone... help, Numbuh Eight... don’t let him take us too... we need help...”

Numbuh Eight looked at Becky and Mark, whose faces reflected her own worry.

“Coordinates, Numbuh Seven?” Numbuh Ten asked suddenly, seemingly unaffected by his friend’s plight.

“Ugh... don’t know... can’t say... help us... he’ll come back... he’ll come back for us all... don’t let him... make him stop...” The voice on the other end of the radio sobbed before the old batteries ran dead, leaving the room in total silence.

A corner of Numbuh Ten’s mouth twitched upward but before any of the others noticed he excused himself silently and prowled off to his room.

“I assume that is one of the people who has gone missing?” Mark asked finally. Numbuh Eight sighed heavily.

“The first contact we’ve had with her since she went missing...” For the first time the black haired girl looked scared. “Where could she be? And if Numbuh Nine’s ‘gone’ who are the others she was with?”

“Yeah,” Becky murmured, looking quite shaken. “I heard voices other than Numbuh Seven’s on the transmitting end of the radio. And if Numbuh Nine was gone, whom could she have meant by “us”? Would that be all the others who have gone missing too?”

“It must be.” Mark frowned. “So, if we can find this Numbuh Seven character we are almost guaranteed to find the others and the answer to this whole brain teasing mystery.”

“But Numbuh Seven couldn’t give us any coordinates.” Numbuh Two pointed out. Numbuh Eight nodded her agreement.

“That’s right. We have no chance of finding them without coordinates.”

Mark paced the room thoughtfully.

“The easiest, possibly safest thing to do is to send out scouring parties. I recommend two groups of two at a time, so that the treehouse is always covered and can always be contacted in an emergency.”

“Good thinking.” Numbuh Eight nodded. “I’d volunteer to go on first duty but I’m interrupted so much with radio calls I’d give away our position to potential dangers.”

“Respectfully, Numbuh Eight,” Mark said, bowing courteously to his superior, who looked disappointed to be missing the action, “I believe it would be wiser for you to remain at the treehouse.”

“Well then.” The black haired girl swallowed and paused a moment before nodding to the other occupants of the room. “Volunteers step forward.”

“I’ll go.” Becky said immediately. “That’s why I was sent here in the first place.”

Numbuh Six stepped forward also.

“I’ll go with Triple Six.”

Becky looked from Numbuh Six to Mark and Numbah Eight, who both nodded, Numbuh Eight scribbling something down on a scrap of paper.

“Now we just need another pair.” She said, studying what she had just written pensively.

“I recommend two of my team.” Mark shrugged. “Numbuhs Four and Five. They’re perfectly apt and well suited to the job. Numbuh Five can always keep a level head, and they’re both reasonable athletes.”

“It’s settled then.” Becky said decisively. “I’ll check with Numbuhs Four and Five and we’ll set off a little later. Me ‘n’ Numbuh Six’ll go west and come back in a wide loop south, and the others can go north and east. That’ll cover a reasonable perimeter.”

“Right.” Numbuh Eight said. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go to my room. I have a considerable backlog of calls. I postponed them all during that conversation.”

“Yeah, I’ll go and tell Numbuhs Four and Five of the new plans.” Numbuh Six added and followed his friend out of the room.

Mark and Becky were left in the room. Becky’s knees seemed to give way and she collapsed on the sofa. Her husband noticed and crossed over to her.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, “Are you scared?”

“No,” She replied, smiling wryly. “I’m terrified, but I can’t be showing that to the others, can I? It would ruin morale completely...”

She suddenly grasped his hands with her own. He froze, having been taken by surprise.

“I don’t want to think about what could possibly be happening to Numbuh Seven right now, nor any of the kids she’s with, nor what foul fate could have befallen Numbuh Nine, but the thoughts... they just won’t leave... we’ve treated this entire mission like a game so far, but that radio call... it’s just so stunningly real. If we thought we had limited time we were wrong! Time is so short, it’s... mortifying...”

“We’re all in this together, Becky...” Mark said gently. “We’re all as scared as you inside. Except possibly Numbuh Three, but in precisely fifteen minutes she’ll be as scared as you.”

Becky giggled quietly.

“No respect for your teammates, that’s your problem.” She said, poking him in the chest. “What’s poor Numbuh Three ever done to you?”

“Reminded me incessantly of Sarah sometimes.” Mark shrugged, rubbing his chest. Becky came fully alert at this.

“What, does she look like Sarah or something?”

“No, only she can be as loud as Sarah sometimes... y’know, like when she’s obsessing over the hamsters. Sarah was like that when she was obsessing over... over me...”

Becky raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. Mark laughed half- heartedly.

“I was always filled with a feeling of impeding doom when I heard her yell ‘VIRG!’”

“Virg?”

“Erm... the middle name’s actually Virgil. No matter how many times I tried to tell her she insisted on calling me by that stupid nickname.”

“Virgil? That’s from Thunderbirds.” Becky smirked. “I won’t laugh, though, coz mine’s a lot worse than that.”

“Really?” Mark looked interested. “What is it, then?”

“Judith. Ugh.” Becky shuddered. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

“Deal.”

There was a potent pause as the two shook hands over their deal.

“Well,” Becky said finally. “I’d better go get ready for patrol. See you around.”

She hugged him quickly and went to find Numbuh Six, with whom she would soon be searching for the missing agents.

[Bea]

An hour and a half had lapsed since the two scouring parties had left the treehouse on the mission to find the missing Numbuh Seven, and the first team, that consisting of Numbuhs Four and Five, had just returned.

�gAny luck?�h Mark asked them as they took off their overcoats and deposited their weaponry on the floor.

�gNo, nothing at all. We took a wide loop east and came back in through Diablo Territory to the north.�h Numbuh Five informed her friend as Numbuh Four trooped off to the kitchen for a hot chocolate. �gThe others back yet?�h

�gNo.�h Numbuh Two cut in with the answer. �gWe�fre still waiting for them.�h

As though he had heard them talking about him, Numbuh Six burst through the door. However, he was not a pretty sight. All the exposed areas of flesh were battered and bruised, and his face was stained with tears and blood. He was wide-eyed and trembling, and could barely get his words out when he spoke.

�gTriple Six... they�fve taken her!�h He moaned, �gThey�fve taken Triple Six!�h

There was a strangled cry. All heads turned to see Mark sink to the floor in a dead faint.

~

With a groan of pain, Becky came round as her vision began adjusting to her new surroundings. It was dark, mostly, but she could make out lights, and, if she squinted, she could see the outlines of test tubes.

A small fire towards the corner illuminated the whole room. It was cold where she was and she attempted to get up so she could sit by the fire, but fell back with a groan of protest, finding she was bound securely to something that was digging painfully into her back.

Someone was approaching her. The form silhouetted against the fire didn�ft look warm, nor did it look inviting. It looked scary and evil. Could this possibly be the man Numbuh Seven had been talking about?

It had all happened so quickly, she could barely comprehend... one minute, she and her Jamaican friend had been walking peacefully along the road. She had been laughing at one of his jokes, and then... they had come out of nowhere... five adult males who were probably in their mid-fourties...

Numbuh Six had rushed protectively in front of the blonde agent, and that was when the chief bad guy had plunged his bread knife straight into the boy�fs unprotected chest. This was like a signal, galvanising the rest to attack. Becky had watched, horrified, as they beat her friend to death, punching, kicking, stabbing... one of them, she thought, had a cosh that he had used to hit her poor friend over the head with...

Becky begun screaming as they dragged her away. Numbuh Six�fs blood was spattered all up her tunic, and she could not tear her eyes away from his body, which was lying in the gutter unmoving and limp. She had struggled and resisted until the one with the cosh had beaten her into submission. Then they had hauled her off and she was sure that, at one point during the rough journey to her current destination, she had lost consciousness.

A sharp pain in her upper arm caused her to inhale sharply. Looking at the stinging area she saw the shadowy figure holding a hypodermic syringe, the point embedded somewhere inside her limb. The liquid inside, she noted, was rapidly being squeezed out into her veins. She suppressed a shudder, as she had always hated needles.

The man drew away, the syringe empty. A strange light-headedness stole over Becky, and her vision began swimming.

Images flicked past her eyes as though they were on fast forward. There, pasted in front of her eyes, was Numbuh Six�fs body. And then suddenly it was Numbuh Ten�fs sneering face that she saw.

She saw her father and family back in Lanford. She saw her sister, who had divorced Dr Diablo, a.k.a her brother-in-law David Healy for cheating on her, 3 years previously. She saw Numbuh Three, who was blissfully unaware of the dangers that were approaching. And she saw Mark. She saw Mark when she met him, a beer drinking punk. She saw Mark as she remembered leaving him to go on the scouring party before her capture. She had asked him to the cinema on a date and the look of pure happiness on his face as he accepted had touched her soul.

She saw only his smiling, joyful face as the room around her faded and she lost consciousness yet again.

~

Mark opened his eyes to see Numbuh Five�fs concerned face peering at him. He sat bolt upright, startling his friend, who hadn�ft noticed he was fully awake.

�gI was dreaming, wasn�ft I?�h He pleaded, seeing that the rest of the team was in the room with him. �gPlease tell me it�fs not true...�h

But with a sinking feeling he could already see the dejected looks on the faces of his fellow kids, some of whom were sporting tear tracks. The only one who wasn�ft in the least bit affected was Numbuh Ten, who was carrying on with his work as usual.

�gI�fm sorry, Numbuh One...�h Numbuh Eight sighed. �gNumbuh Six did all he could... they left him for dead, you know...�h

Mark felt a pent up rage and sorrow at his wife�fs kidnapping, and he turned to take it out on Numbuh Ten.

�gWhat is wrong with you?�h He screamed at the street boy. �gAre you completely incapable of displaying any emotions on your face? One of your friends... our friends... has been taken and you show no sorrow or regret? What id wrong with you?�h

Numbuh Ten looked up at the dark haired man and even though Mark was his superior, it didn�ft stop him talking insolently back to the boy.

�gYou might not have noticed, Numbuh One, as you were sleeping over there in the times after Triple Six�fs disappearance,�h Mark flushed slightly, �gbut while, it seems, everyone else has taken the poor girl�fs absence very hard, I am the only one who is doing anything to get her back.�h

�gLike what?�h Mark asked heatedly.

�gFor instance, I have already been to the scene of the attack, and I have found a traceable path where your,�h he sneered, �gah... girlfriend was dragged away. I have analysed bloodstains left on the ground to check if she was at any point injured, but it seems that only Numbuh Six was foolish enough to let himself get stabbed. As of this moment, I have been modifying weapons for a full on attack.�h

�gYou got to respect Numbuh Ten,�h Numbuh Four said suddenly. �gHe knows what he�fs doing. Those gits that attacked Numbuh Six and Triple Six left a clear path to follow, and it leads right to a building. Numbuh Ten�fs been and checked it out, apparently.�h

Furious at being showed up by his inferior, Mark rounded back on the street kid.

�gOh? I don�ft suppose you would like to inform us all as to the details of this building?�h He hissed. Numbuh Ten blankly pulled out a map.

�gIt�fs right here,�h he said tonelessly, pinpointing a square block on the gridlines. �gTaus Scientific Developments is its road name, owned by a certain Mister Limerick Taus, the renowned scientist and self-proclaimed genius.�h

[Bea]

Becky opened her eyes. Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind there were disturbing images but there was something much stronger that was repressing them. It was almost like a blackness that swamped her entire mind. She could vaguely see the outline of a small boy with no hair so to speak, his face shining happily... there were flowers... a mixture of colours in a rainbow.

"Ah. B29. Awake already, I see." A cold male voice cut through the darkness. It was strangely welcoming to her. The words came from her mouth involuntarily.

"Yes, sir. I am awake, sir."

"Good. It looks like I might possibly have a success on my hands. Excellent." The voice reminded the blonde woman a little of a deadpan young man she had once known... his name evaded him, though she knew he had a number... but no. The voice that addressed her now was much too developed and mature to belong to any IR agent.

To her horror her limbs began to move of their own accord. A panic took over her and she attempted to fight herself, exerting all of her self control to still the movements that were not her own. It was no use.

"Dear me, B29." The male voice chuckled, but it was not a welcoming sound. "You should realise by now that you cannot fight it. It is useless. You are mine. A slave in your own body."

-No... What have you done to me?-

The man laughed again and moved into the light so that Becky could see him. He could not have been over 30. His auburn hair was brushed casually out of his eyes, which glinted maliciously at her. At the moment in time his thin mouth was twisted into a smirk that made the blonde agent nervous.

"Foolish female!" He sneered. Becky almost gasped reflexively but her body did not respond. It was like he said, she had no control anymore. A sudden suspicion took her over

-You can read my mind?- She thought clearly. Again she heard his cold laugh, though this time he had not moved his lips. He was in her head.

-Stupid girl! I am controlling your mind! I know all of the thoughts that are running through, I know all of your airheaded naivety. Of all my past experiments, you are the first success. And your reaction has been most amusing to watch, however...-

The man smirked again and continued in speech.

"However, your conscious self seems too aware. I will need to possibly sedate you to keep you from trying to regain control. It might be dangerous for me if you do at one point succeed. After all, I have big plans for you."

He bowed to her and retrieved a syringe from the desk.

"This is a modification of the fluids I previously injected you with." He informed her. "It is a special formula, one developed by myself. It has enhanced your mental abilities as well as your physical stamina. It has also enabled me to create a parody of you, completely subservient to me, of course. It is that which suppresses you as we speak."

He paused for a moment to let his statement sink into the unfortunate woman. Then, without warning, he plunged the syringe into her arm, just above the elbow.

It hurt a lot. The blonde woman screamed in her head, and would have screamed aloud had it not been for the restricting copy of herself that was inhabiting the same body.

The fiery ache reduced into a dull throbbing and she felt inexorably calm. Some part of her, deep down inside was surprised at the speed at which the sedation acted but then, she thought sleepily, it was probably something else developed by her cruel but mentally unequalled captor.

There was a subdued, unbelieving silence in the treehouse. None of the kids there dared speak to each other. Even Numbuh Ten was immobilised with shock.

It seemed liked hours ago that a sobbing Numbuh Eight had padded softly through from Numbuh Six's bedroom to tell her friends that the Jamaican boy had passed away.

The first knife thrust to the chest had proved fatal. It had been on everyone's mind, yet no one had believed it could actually happen.

After the mugging in the street, Numbuh Six had lost consciousness. He had come round about half an hour later to find Triple Six had been taken away and the street deserted. He had somehow managed to stagger back to the treehouse to make his report, but had lapsed into a coma soon after from blood loss.

Numbuh Eight had laid him to rest in his bed and attempted to contact Simeon, the Global International Rescue Healer. Simeon had not been at Moonbase, and poor Numbuh Six had just drifted slowly away. Numbuh Eight knew that it was happening and had tried to stop it, but her knowledge of first aid was limited and the only thing she could do was try and stop the bleeding, but it was no use. She could not bring herself to tell the others until he actually passed on.

Everyone was in a state of shock. Though the Kids minus Numbuhs Eight and Ten had only known Numbuh Six for a short time, they had all become very close, especially he with Numbuh Three. They were both bright and bubbly, and severely optimistic in their ways. Numbuh Three had locked herself in her room and was silently refusing to venture out.

A movement from Mark caused his silent friends to look up. They watched him as he stood respectfully outside Numbuh Six's closed door to impart his last words to the operative.

"Numbuh Six," He said quietly. "It shouldn't have been you. Do not worry, though. I shall make sure that they pay."

The usually taciturn Numbuh Five rose, looking at her leader accusingly. The tear tracks were still engraved on her cheeks.

"That wasn't a farewell to Numbuh Six!" She began heatedly. "It was a promise for revenge! How many more must die before you're satisfied?"

But when Mark replied it was with a resigned and quiet conviction that tugged at her very being.

"They are taking away everything we love, Numbuh Five. First Numbuhs Nine and Seven... then Triple Six..." He swallowed painfully. "And now Numbuh Six... who will it be next? I'm not going to wait and see... I'm going to go to them... we have the address... and I'm going to make them pay for what they've done to us... they're tearing us apart, causing us to argue among ourselves... they have to be stopped... and I can't do it alone..."

Numbuh Eight spoke for the first time since she had delivered the message about Numbuh Six. Her voice was quiet and choked.

"He's right. It's not... they can't..." she swallowed and started her sentence again. "I wouldn't be doing my duty as an agent. It's my responsibility as your superior to protect you all. I failed Numbuh Six, but I won't fail the rest of you."

Numbuhs Two and Four agreed, walking over to stand by Mark. Numbuh Ten glared at them, a slight sneer twisting his mouth even in the circumstances. Mark looked away from him. He knew that Numbuh Ten would help them, no matter how much he scorned them.

Numbuh Five, however, looked torn. She chewed anxiously on her bottom lip as though there was some sort of battle between her two consciences. Finally, after this moment's hesitation, she walked over and joined the small group by the door.

"What about Numbuh Three?" She asked softly. Numbuh Four smiled sadly.

"She'll come. She'll want her revenge for Numbuh Six. They were getting quite close." He kept his voice free of jealousy in respect for the departed operative.

Numbuh Ten got the map out again.

"The lab's right here."

He marked the place with an 'x'. Numbuh Four was "volunteered" to go and fetch Numbuh Three and after the luckless boy had set off, Numbuh One began outlining his scheme.

Revenge is sweet.

[Bea]

Mark studied the building carefully. From the road, it looked like a derelict old factory. He couldn't help thinking that maybe Numbuh Ten had got the wrong place. But, no... there on the door was a peeling sign, which read: 'Taus Development Centre.'

He was standing outside with his original team of Numbuhs Two to Five. Numbuhs Eight and Ten had disappeared to find a back entrance so that they could form the attack in a pincer movement.

With a deep breath, Mark pushed the door open. It creaked ominously and one of the hinges disintegrated and crumbled away. The door fell, narrowly missing Numbuh Five.

The entrance led to a long winding corridor, at the end of which was a large door that was in considerably better condition than the previous one. Mark paused briefly before opening it and stealing inside, the others following him.

They were in a large old-fashioned room, lit by dim lamps on the ceiling far above. The windows were dusty and of stained glass. They could see Numbuhs Eight and Ten on a balcony far above them, barely more than the size of ants.

There were piles of debris scattered all through the room, along with small fragments of brick wall that remained standing. It seemed as though this room had once been many different rooms, though the separating walls had been demolished.

Mark silently wondered why he had not seen this colossal room from the outside. This was, he reasoned, a Scientific Centre. Perhaps the scientist had come up with something to conceal the large building and stop trespassers.

His train of though was interrupted, however, by the sound of a door opening from the other side of the room. He and his team tensed. Numbuh Eight was too high up to hear anything, though Numbuh Ten seemed to have noticed the intrusion and was looking down on them with an expression on his gaunt face that was both interested and bemused.

A tall handsome man walked in, followed by a woman wearing a hooded tunic. Mark groaned inwardly. It was Triple Six. The corner of the sinister man's mouth twitched upward in a smile and he inclined his head towards the five International Rescue agents. To Mark's horror, Becky moved silently to the centre of the room and stood stock-still.

Numbuh Two, not noticing the danger signals that Mark had noticed, smiled in relief and started towards his own wife.

Becky raised one of her hands. An eerie blue glow formed around it and suddenly the same glow formed around Numbuh Two himself. Mark's breath caught in his throat... this couldn't be good...

With a swift, single motion, Becky whipped her arm to the side, almost dismissively. Numbuh Two screamed in terror as he was hurled through the air back towards his team-mates, crashing into them and knocking the weapons from their hands.

"Scatter!" Mark yelled as Becky directed a large boulder towards them with a hand gesture. The boulder, too, was surrounded by the strange blue light.

It smashed against the wall where they had been moments before. Mark scampered behind one of the old bits of wall and cautiously peeked his head out to observe Becky. Numbuh Four weaved his way over to him through the rubble.

"Numbuh One!" He said, his voice almost a whine. "What can she possibly do? Let's just cream her and get it over with!"

He was forced to duck into the debris as Becky demonstrated what she could do by sending a load of bricks flying at him. Mark pulled his head back behind the wall just as one of the bricks whistled past his ear. He had to wake up from this nightmare...

Numbuh Four dodged his way back behind the blonde woman, ready to leap on her. He suddenly charged out of his hiding place, yelling his war cries. Becky hesitated for a moment, having been taken by surprise, but then suddenly held one hand up, sending Numbuh Four sprawling backwards into Numbuh Five and stunning both of them.

Up on the balcony, Numbuhs Eight and Ten had noticed something was amiss.

"We have to get down there, somehow!" Numbuh Eight said, agitatedly wringing her hands, looking at the destruction being wreaked by her former colleague. "They need our help!"

Numbuh Ten looked at her coldly.

"We aren't helping them." He said, sneering at her. She frowned in puzzlement at his statement and then her eyes widened as she realised.

"You! You betrayed us! You're working for him!" She hissed, pointing down towards Taus, who was watching the whole scene playing out in front of him with an amused expression.

The expression on Numbuh Ten's face had twisted into something awful.

"Well done." He breathed in her face, and she backed off a bit. "You finally worked it out. I wondered how long it would take you. I thought I'd made it obvious. I thought I'd made a mistake... but no... you're all fools! Blind stupid fools! And if you don't want to stay up here with me," He smirked at her. "You can go down to your friends."

It was but the work of a moment for Numbuh Ten. With a swift flick of the wrist he shoved Numbuh Eight backwards. With a shriek of horror she tripped on the low banister and disappeared over the edge of the balcony, landing below with a sickening thud.

Numbuh Ten looked down at her mangled form with a satisfied expression twisting his thin face and then disappeared through the balcony door, the whole episode not noticed by those battling it out below.

[Bea]

Numbuh Three had crept round to Mark, unnoticed by Becky. They were conversing in low tones behind the deteriorating fragment of brick wall.

“I had a plan, Numbuh Three, I had a plan...” Mark buried his head in his hands. “But I didn’t vouch on this... I thought we’d just have to storm in here, beat the crap out of some old scientist guy with a moustache and run the hell away... but look at this Taus guy! He doesn’t even HAVE facial hair!”

Numbuh Three gazed uncertainly at Mark, wondering if he had lost his mind. Her happy go-lucky demeanour had been shattered as soon as she saw the Irish agent attacking her friends.

Unknown to either Mark or Numbuh Three, Becky had been concentrating energy in the palm of her hand for some while now. The raw energy had grown into a sizeable ball, which was crackling and fizzing, waiting to be hurled. Which is just what Becky did, straight at the wall behind which the two agents were hiding.

The energy ball ploughed through the wall as though the brick had been paper. It was lucky for Mark that he had just at that moment decided to pace round behind Numbuh Three, so the attack hit her.

The energy ball formed a cocoon around the terrified woman and lifted her into the air. She screamed in terror as a knife materialised out of nowhere and flew towards her. At the very last moment before the knife struck, she twisted her body to the side.

Mark looked up at his friend, who was swinging to a fro looking rather green, pinned to the wall by the knife that went through her sweater.

Horrible comprehension dawned on Mark. The energy ball had been made for him! And who knows... if Numbuh Three hadn’t twisted as she had done the knife would probably have pierced her skin... it might even have killed her!

On the other side of the room, Numbuhs Four and Five had retrieved their weapons and were now aiming them determinedly at Becky.

“Freeze, punk!” Numbuh Four yelled, sending a shot of energy from his F.R.E.E.Z.E. gun. Becky merely held her arms up to the side.

A blue sheen appeared around the blonde woman and when the F.R.E.E.Z.E beam hit it, it only bounced off and hit one of the suspended lights far above them. Numbuh Four’s mouth dropped open, but before Becky could attack him, Numbuh Five bound forward with her attack: a glue gun.

Exactly the same thing happened again. The beam deflected off the shield Becky had constructed round herself, though this time it headed at an angle parallel to the floor and Mark had to do a complicated little dodge to avoid it.

A dodge that took him closer to Taus.

Taus suddenly swooped and pinned Mark against the wall with a swift arm movement. The dark haired man struggled weakly against the stronger scientist.

“At last! I have you!” Taus breathed into Mark’s face. The boy stopped his struggling and looked up at the older man, obviously confused.

“I’m the target?” He asked.

“Of course.” Taus sneered. “My name is Limerick Taus. I pride myself on being the cleverest man alive. I have no rivals because I have eliminated them all.”

“Very interesting, I’m sure.” Mark snarled as best he could with the man’s thumb pressing on his windpipe. The old bruises were beginning to hurt again. “But could you please tell me where I fit in to this?”

“Your mind, of course.” Taus stated, as though it was obvious. “Your mind is much more developed than mine was at your age, therefore you are a potential rival and must be removed.”

Mark was beginning to feel light headed from the reduced air supply.

“You’re mad!”

“And if I am?” Taus growled, looking suddenly quite deranged, his blonde hair flopping down into his handsome young face. “All the great scientists are not completely sane... Einstein... Ohm... Watt... none of them were completely normal...”

Mark did not interrupt, waiting for the man to continue his story.

“I tried to get rid of you. It was I who attempted to strangle you, though it seems that your brain is not the only muscle that is advanced for your age.” The scientist looked hungrily at Mark’s body. “I managed to loop my cord around your sutrdy neck. By all rights it should have snapped, but you thwarted my plans by hooking your thumbs and saving yourself.”

The corners of Mark’s mouth twitched upward in a gloating smile.

“So I started some experiments on International Rescue agents and evil villain lackeys I’d been picking up off the streets for a while before that. No successes. I learned from a source of mine who was posted near you that there were... shall we say, certain feelings developing between you and Triple Six or 'Becky' as you like to call her. I did all in my power to capture her.

“My source pointed her out to me. When some of my workers came across her next she was in the company of an unimportant boy who they disposed of efficiently, I am told.”

Mark felt a strong hatred coursing through him at the lack of respect for the late Numbuh Six that Taus showed.

“I worked hard to achieve a success and here is my result.” The scientist gestured over his shoulder to where Mark was slamming Numbuh Two repeatedly against the wall. It looked like the man had lost consciousness.

“Butthead!”

Mark blinked in surprise. It was not he who had shouted, but Numbuh Five, who was flying through the air towards Taus, teeth bared. Taus snarled and caught the girl a vicious back swing to the stomach, winding her and sending her flying in the opposite direction. She landed heavily, sobbing for breath.

Mark twitched at seeing his teammate put out of action like this. His quick dark eyes scanned the room. Becky was standing triumphantly over the unconscious Numbuh Two, and Numbuhs Three and Four were being menaced by Numbuh Ten, who had a nasty looking knife.

Mark was not surprised to see that Numbuh Ten was a traitor. It figured. All the time he did not show emotion, it was because he was expecting it. The radio transmission from Numbuh Seven, Numbuh Six’s death... it had all been planned... Numbuh Ten had been Taus’ source inside the treehouse.

Taus grinned and summoned Becky, who took out a knife of her own from the voluminous tunic.

“I will let her finish the job.” He smirked in a way reminiscent of Numbuh Ten. “It will give me satisfaction, watching and knowing my job is done.”

He stood out of the way, letting Becky forward.

Mark was trapped up against the wall. There was nothing he could do and he could not back away any further... the only thing he could do was hope that it would be quick and painless... hope that his friends weren’t watching... he didn’t want them to be sad...

He looked up into Becky's soulless eyes... the same blue eyes he had fallen in love with... they stared blankly back at him. The knife was raising, ready for the final blow...

A single, lonesome tear trickled down Becky’s cheek. He watched its course down towards her neck. She was going to be the last thing he ever saw...

There was a clatter as the knife hit the stone floor.