The "Possible" household was quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that precedes a sonic boom.
I sat at the kitchen table, a single lukewarm cup of tea in front of me. I hadn't gone back to Sub-Level 23. There was no point. If Wade had the bio-trace, the game of digital hide-and-seek was over. The "Producer" was unmasked, and the "insurance adjuster" was out of luck.
The back door creaked open. Kim walked in first, her mission gear still stained with the grey dust of the imploded Anchor. Behind her filed the rest of the Protocol: Danny Fenton, looking like he wanted to phase through the floor out of sheer awkwardness; Ben, fiddling with his watch; and Jake, who was unusually silent.
Kim didn't stop until she was two feet away from me. She didn't scream. She didn't throw a kick. She just placed the silver thumb-drive on the table between us.
"The signal-boosting code," she said, her voice vibrating with a dangerous mix of betrayal and awe. "Wade looked at the architecture. It wasn't just a signal booster. It was a back-door into every satellite on the planet. A back-door built by someone who knows exactly how I move, how I think, and how I fight."
I looked up at her. The "Campbell" in me wanted to crack a joke, to deflect, to be the "boring brother" one last time. But the "Producer" knew that the time for scripts was over.
"I needed to make sure you were safe, Kim," I said, my voice steady. "The world isn't what it used to be. It's getting weirder, faster than even you can handle."
"So you lied?" Kim's voice finally broke, a flash of hurt crossing her face. "You watched me struggle in Switzerland? You watched me almost get vaporized in the Rockies? You were 'taking pictures' while I was fighting for my life?"
"I was ensuring you won those fights," I countered, standing up. "Who do you think throttled the Wi-Fi in the North Wing so Fenton could transform? Who do you think disabled Drakken's engine over the Burger Shack? Who do you think calculated the exact harmonic frequency needed to shatter that Anchor without leveling Middleton?"
I turned to the others. "Fenton, the anonymous grant for your parents? That was me. Ben, the gold-card tracker? Me. Jake, the shipping manifests? Me. I didn't just 'watch.' I architected a deterrent. Because whether you like it or not, the 'Convergence' isn't over. Pericles is still out there. Plasmius is still out there. And they aren't going to stop until the walls between your worlds are gone for good."
The room went silent. Ben looked at Danny, who looked at Jake. The realization that their "mysterious benefactor" was a fifteen-year-old in a hoodie who lived with his parents was clearly a lot to process.
"You're a genius," Ben finally said, breaking the tension. "I mean, a creepy, stalker-ish genius, but... that's actually kind of cool. Does this mean I get a bigger allowance of Sumo Slammer cards?"
"No," I said, a small smile finally tugging at my mouth.
Kim stepped closer, her eyes searching mine. "Why didn't you just tell me, Danny? We're twins. We're supposed to be a team."
"Because if you knew, you'd try to protect me," I said softly. "And I needed to be the one protecting you. From the shadows. Where the rules don't apply."
Kim looked at the thumb-drive, then back at me. She reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. "Well, the shadows are gone. From now on, if there's a 'Protocol,' it's out in the light. No more 'Producer.' No more 'Glitch-Face.' Just us."
I looked at the assembled team—the ghost, the alien, the dragon, and the girl who could do anything. My "Campbell" soul felt a strange sense of completion. I had died an insurance adjuster, but I had been reborn as something else entirely.
"Fine," I said, standing tall. "But if we're doing this in the light, we're going to need a better headquarters than a high school football field. And I'm going to need a lot more coffee."
["I've already ordered the espresso machine, Danny,"] Sheila's voice rang out from the kitchen speakers, making everyone except me jump. ["And I've updated the roster. The 'Possible Protocol' is officially at full strength."]
Kim grinned, a familiar, confident spark returning to her eyes. "So, 'Producer.' What's the plan for tomorrow?"
I looked at the monitor on the fridge, where a new energy spike was already beginning to form over a small town in Maine called Derry.
"Tomorrow," I said, "we save the world. But tonight? Tonight, we're having pizza. And Kim? You're paying."
The board was set. The secret was out. And for the first time in two lives, I knew exactly what was coming next.