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“Then why is he breaking into our own prison?” Numbuh 1 asked.
Harvey’s face twisted. He fired again, but Numbuh 4 was already moving. The beam hit a support pillar, which instantly rusted and snapped. The ceiling groaned.
Harvey Hapsburg sat in a new room. It wasn’t a cell. It was an office, overlooking the Grand Canyon. A desk. A chair. And a small, silver briefcase. Codename Kids Next Door
Harvey smiled. For the first time, it didn’t look sad. “I’m thirteen, Numbuh 1. Too old for field work. But too young to forget. There’s a middle ground, maybe. A place for kids who remember but can’t fight. Who can plan. Who can build a better system.”
Numbuh 1 nodded. “Operation: G.R.O.W.N.U.P. isn’t a mission. It’s a conversation.” “Then why is he breaking into our own prison
Outside, the sun set over the canyon. And somewhere in the distance, a treehouse alarm blared. A new mission. A new problem. A new chance to be a kid—with all the messy, complicated, beautiful memories that came with it.
He held out his hand.
He fired.
As the ice began to crack, Numbuh 2 did something brilliant. He wasn’t a pilot for nothing. He grabbed a fire extinguisher, ripped off the safety pin, and aimed it not at the fire, but at the floor beneath Harvey. A sheet of ice formed instantly. Harvey slipped, the G.O.L.D.E.N. M.E.M.O.R.Y. flying from his grip. The beam hit a support pillar, which instantly