Operation: U.N.C.L.E. (Uncle Never Cease Lurid Exclamations)
uhhhh heres a lil fic I wrote based off of some ideas I had last night. enjoy.
Nigel sits in the living room as his mother prepares dinner, pots clanging about as the smell of shepard’s pie and qifqi wafts through the air. Shepard’s pie was always his father’s favorite, the same father who no longer remembers that he was once a hero. The boy her dad used to be rings in Nigel’s head so fervently that she can’t make herself tinker away on her 4x2 gizmo any longer. He feels protective over him now, oddly enough. Usually it’s the father who protects the child. But he’s gone, and he has to be gone for the sake of the world and Nigel’s well-being. It’s a sad thought. Once upon a time, a younger Nigel would’ve hidden behind his leg for safety, as if that leg belonged to a man who could still overcome anything. Nigel accepts it, however. Such is life as a KND operative, a duty that compels her spirit like no other. Still can’t help but be a little frustrated.
“Mom, is grandma Lira coming over?” Nigel asks his mother. Grandma always brings over baklavas; those are always nice.
“No, ylli im,” she gently sings. “Someone from your father’s side of the family is coming over.”
Nigel becomes disappointed. It’s likely Grandfather again. Although it’s uncomfortable to know he once was a wicked, wicked man, at least he’s an old fool now. He’s too senile to ever be a threat or say anything crueler than a tone-deaf question that only hurts Nigel’s ears. It’s awkward, but livable.
“Speak of the devil!” Mrs. Uno remarks.
Monty rushes out of the dining room to answer the door. He always puts in a pep in his step for Grandfather, probably trying to make the best out of how much time the old wretch has. Nigel furrows his brow and sighs, not moving her eyes away from the coffee table.
“Brother! It’s been so long!” Monty chimes. Nigel can hear his dad let out the jolly growl he always lets out during bear-hugs.
Nigel becomes alert and climbs onto the sofa’s head to see who was there, as if there any room for denial that it could be anyone else.
“Really? I could’ve sworn we talked months ago,” the nasally voice of Benedict scoffs.
Monty laughs. “Memory’s a mean little urchin, isn’t it?” He moves out of the way to let Benedict in. “Come in, come in!”
Nigel and Benedict lock scornful eyes as Monty directs Benedict into the living room. Benedict is out of his suit, forced to keep a wimpy facade in order to keep all the other operatives in the neighborhood off his back. Nonetheless, Nigel finds it a tad odd that Benedict came out of his way to present himself like this. It’s like he’s trying to taunt her, walking out and about in a form that only Nigel knows the meaning of. You’d think he would’ve brought his children over to rub salt in the wound. Monty takes a seat next to Nigel and Benedict picks the most deserted chair in the room.
“Last time I heard from you, brother, you got a lofty job at the military. That’s a lot of work, never thought of you as such a type. How’s that lot treating you?”
Benedict leans into his chair. “Honestly, it’s just a 9-5 for me,” he jokes. He then shoots his eyes at Nigel. “I can only say so much. Lots of confidential work.”
He probably only took the invitation to taunt me, Nigel thinks. She forces herself to keep eye contact with Benedict. Nigel can feel his blood heat up. Might as well treat him as he’s treating others.
“That sounds like a big job, uncle Ben,” Nigel comments. “Bet you still love your kids no matter what, though. I’d like to play with them sometime. Why didn’t you bring them over too?”
Benedict’s eyebrow twitches. “Oh, they had… homework to complete.” He puts on a smile. “They’re all grade-A students. Their teachers say they’re a delight to have in the class.”
“Really? That’s lovely, Benedict!” Monty says. “You got a lot on your plate, but I say, you seem to be handling it masterfully. Who would’ve thought such a fragile boy would grow up into such a man?”
Monty’s reply breaks a crack into Benedict’s slick demeanor. His face weakens.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Uno hollers from the kitchen.
As the tension in the room increases, it is forced into standby as everyone makes their way into the kitchen.
Nigel stays quiet, though it pains him to do nothing. Granted, what he wants to do wouldn’t really help anything. So many little remarks have to go to waste. His mind wallows:
If only you could care about other kids as you do with your Delightful Children. Too bad you can’t hide behind your stupid black suit right now. If you cry, everyone’s gonna see it. You’re a coward, and I know it. I’m braver than you could ever be.
But it seems like Benedict has lost interest in Nigel. He’s observing Monty thoroughly and uneasily. As per usual, Mrs. Uno and Monty are unfazed, clueless as ever. Even when you’re this clueless, one would assume you’d at least get suspicious at this point. They’re only so vacant, however. Monty takes note of Benedict’s tension.
“You’ve been stern in appearance for quite some time, brother. What’s bothering you?”
Benedict stays quiet for a while. He really can only say so much. He stares at his shepard’s pie as he fidgets with it. He keeps it vague. “Oh, my day’s been rough, that’s all.”
Monty playfully sighs. “You’ve had many rough days, especially in secondary.” He pats his brother’s back. “I’m sure you can prevail. Besides, you’re in good company. We’re here for you.”
Benedict scrunches his face before he could fall into vulnerability. “Bold words from you considering what dad was like,” he states impulsively.
“Boy, do I know what he was like,” Nigel snaps back with the same amount of impulse.
Monty becomes uncomfortable, which Mrs. Uno takes note of.
“Now Nigel,” Mrs. Uno chides, “your grandfather is very old. He isn’t very good at knowing like he used to. He wasn’t…. great back then, but he’s become benign. He’s made lots of progress with your baba.”
It’s a futile response. Nigel’s very prone to impulsion, but she forces herself to be as quiet as she can. Everyone else follows suit. However, Nigel has so much self control and becomes restless.
“Can I go to the bathroom?” Nigel requests, though it’s really more of a lie.
“You’re excused,” Monty says quietly.
Something about Nigel’s leave humors Benedict. Never thought of him as the fleeing type, he thinks. The thought makes him snicker, and he is ever so slightly relieved of the vulnerability brewing in his chest. If it weren’t for the stakes at hand, he would’ve folded already. Well, those stakes are no worse than making family uncomfortable, but god forbid.
“What’s so funny?” Monty asks.
Benedict gets an idea. He gets a little smug.
“Y’know, brother,” he begins. “Me and your son visit from time to time. He plays lots of crazy games with me.”
Benedict always puts on an off-putting tone, but something about this situation deepens Monty’s discomfort rather than numbs it. Mrs. Uno takes note and places a hand onto Monty’s hand.
She plays it calm. “That’s funny,” she laughs, “I would’ve thought we would’ve heard good lots about those games from Nigel.”
Monty doesn’t like the approach. “Well, he tends to not tell us much of anything, dear.”
“Oh, but he tells me so much,” Benedict says with a toothy smile. “Much more than he could ever tell you.”
Monty’s brow tenses and he crosses his arms. “What kind of things?”
Benedict giggles. “He told me you were once a boy, a great boy who started a special operation so that a kid could never know the pain of punishment ever again. In his words, you ‘saved the world’.”
“Sounds like child’s play.”
“I know, right? But the funniest thing is, I could’ve sworn you did something like that when we were kids ourselves!”
Benedict laughs. He gets cocky. “Too much of a fool to even respond, eh? They must’ve decommissioned you real hard if you’ve gotten—”
“You’re not going to gaslight me just like dad did,” Monty snapped grimly.
Benedict is stopped in his tracks and horrors seeps into his face. He knows! He must know! His heart starts to race. Don’t just into conclusions, you idiot, he snaps back to himself. He’s just… not as stupid as I thought he was. He clenches his fists. But if he knows what our old pops was really like, he knows who I am too! That… that—
Benedict feels Monty place a sturdy, gentle hand on his shoulder. He can’t help but sneak a peek at his brother’s serious face. Even after all this time, he knows that look. He knows he’s safe from Monty’s wrath, but not safe from his own shame.
“It’s over. We’re not the same people we used to be. We’re grown up, brother. We don’t have to please anyone anymore,” he states tenderly. “I promise.”
Warm heat crawls into Benedict’s eyes, his body begging to that young boy who could hide behind his brother’s back, as if he wouldn’t hide behind his father’s back as well. What a terrible feeling. It’s cowardly.
Benedict thrusts himself out of his seat while staying composed. “I’m going out for a smoke.”
Monty hangs his head low. “Very well, then.”
Benedict makes his way to the backyard, his focus taking no regard for anything else. He rustles around in his pockets for his calabash pipe, matches, and pipe tool. As he places the pipe into his mouth, something suddenly grabs onto his legs and throws him onto the ground, causing him to fall.
“Why did you come here?” Nigel interrogates.
“Look, I was feeling nice for once in my ‘evil’ life. I refused your father’s invitations in the past and that never helped anything.”
“I don’t believe you. I know you. You don’t just go somewhere to be ‘nice’; you run an evil organization, for crying out loud!”
Benedict tries a different approach. “Nigel, nothing is truly evil. It’s just not possible. I live a complicated life just like you do. Sometimes we have to put away our weapons and look at each other in the eye.”
“You’re lying! I heard you messing with my dad! Even if you aren’t planning something, you like to taunt, I know you do!”
He changes his approach once more, playing into territory he used to be certain about. “Oh c’mon, what’s really the harm? They don’t know, and we do! How much different is this from any of your little missions? You have to admit it’s a little amusing.”
Benedict reaches for his dropped pipe only for Nigel to clench onto his wrist. “You’re the only one who finds this funny!” She then whips out a small 4x2 weapon out of her pocket and points it at Benedict. “I’m sick of being quiet! I’m never putting my weapon down!”
Benedict scowls at Nigel. “What does it matter, anyway? In a matter of years you’ll be decommissioned and become another stupid coot in this house!”
“And you’re going to die one day, too! Then nobody will remember any of this!” Nigel snaps back, on the brink of releasing his fire onto his uncle.
He doesn’t know. He thinks he knows, but he doesn’t. Benedict’s expression softens, then falls into a couple chuckles, chuckles that morphs into hysterical laughter. “You don’t get it, do you?” He remarks smugly, his eyes growing more golden in color. “People like us don’t just die! That’s just not how it works!”
Nigel lowers her weapon and her shades lower to reveal her frightened eyes. Benedict takes this moment to snag Nigel’s shirt with his hand and pin him to the wall. Nigel is too shocked to make a response.
Black embers circle around Benedict’s body, his form slowly becoming more obscured by them.
“We’re not like other people, Nigel. We are a bloodline of hatred, generations and generations of cozy solipsism. As long as I hate, as long as you hate, we will never die.” He pauses to let the flames finish consuming his body, then chuckles in a voice that Nigel is much more familiar with. “And lemme tell you, Nigel, you will never forget hatred.”
Nigel is frightened and confused in a way he hasn’t felt in a while. This has to be a lie. All he does is lie. But why, though? If it was all a lie, why does he have that suit of pure flame? To think so many children fantasize about being powerful just like he. Nigel fantasized the same things once upon a time. But all he wants now is to be human… if that’s truly possible.
She rummages through her head for some kind of response, some kind of hope—something. “T-then I’ll make myself more empty-headed than my baba or grandfather could be! I-I-I’ll make myself the biggest blank state for the state of the Kids Next Door!”
“You can’t do it. Everybody loves themselves more than their cause,” Benedict replies smoothly.
Nigel drops her weapon without notice. He’s too distressed, too clueless and burdened with strange new things he’s never really heard before. There’s no denying that Nigel is incredibly difficult to trick at times. She sometimes thinks the words some mean adult says could never strike her, but here she is. To think her loyalty was unbreakable. To think the blood in her body was red and not black.
“Now you get it.” Benedict releases Nigel from his grasp and lets him fall onto the floor. He exits the scene and turns his back onto her. “Stay inside; I’m going out back to smoke. You know damn well what’s gonna happen if you follow me,” he directs coldly before moving out of frame.
Not a soul will truly understand what’s happened. Numbuh 0 is gone. Numbuh 999 is gone. Only Monty and Mrs. Uno remain. With no one else in the house to retreat to, Nigel heads to his room.
As he makes his way, he wonders what the other operatives would think. Everyone knows he is related to those great legends, but they don’t know the full story. What would they think if they knew that the greatest hero was attached to such horrible darkness? Nigel’s weak, a coward by proxy of being a child. He could fall into that darkness. Then he’d be just like them.
He closes the door once he enters his room, now surrounded by all his cherished toys, his vibrant Yipper posters, and his dainty Rainbow Monkey that he always sleeps with. What’s certain is that she remembers now, and she has some time before she potentially slips into that darkness. But that’s limited time, and this is a situation that has been never given to anyone else. So many people, regardless of how cruel, will live and die being just another citizen that will eventually forget the hatred they even had in the first place. How odd it is that there is some good in forgetting.
But who knows if I can forget that stuff? Nigel wonders. Maybe I’ll forget everything good that was in my life and only remember hatred. She approaches her window and catches a glimpse of Benedict smoking outside, prompting a rush of rage to flow inside her. Why did he have to tell me that? He put this on me. He’s the coward who recommissioned grandfather because he needed someone to be proud of him, something to accomplish. What an idiot.
Unbeknownst to Nigel, black embers are flickering around his boots. His tears and rage distract him. What a jerk. What a moron. Can’t even control himself and he thinks I need to be controlled. He’s so selfish, thinking that everything should cater to him. He doesn’t even think! He’ll bend his will to Grandfather any day!
The embers have consumed parts of his body and are crawling up to his face.
One day I’ll get him and he’s never coming back. He’ll be as stupid as Grandfather—maybe even more. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him one day and I’ll never have kids. Maybe I’ll never even grow up. I won’t even do it for the KND—I’ll do it just to make him cry.
This hatred, whether good or bad, has now consumed him and left him completely blackened with flame and power, the same type that Benedict dons like a shiny medal. Such is the life of an Uno.
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