Chapter Text
7 AM.
The alarm clock wailed its horrid screech as it does every morning. You groaned with great displeasure, but you knew what had to be done.
Time to rise and grind.
It’s another beautiful day of job searching and inevitable disappointment.
You graduated from college a few months ago with a degree in psychology with a focus on child development. You’ve searched far and wide for work worthy of your skills. Even when the interviews went perfectly and the employers seemed to really like you, luck would have it that there was always someone marginally better than you. No matter how disheartening it was, you never lost hope that the golden ticket would come one day, a perfect opportunity that would put your life in the place you’d always imagined being at.
You got out of bed slowly, steadily crawling out of your tiny apartment bedroom and into your tiny apartment kitchen. You opened a cabinet to grab some coffee beans, then prepared the coffee maker to start producing the single substance capable of sustaining you in these trying times. While it brewed, you headed to the front door to fetch the daily newspaper. You then sat down with the paper in hand, immediately turning to the job classifieds.
Landscapers needed? Nope. City now hiring crossing guards? Not me. Your hopes of finding anything of relevance in the paper today was quickly diminishing. Then, at long last, on the final corner of the final page, sat a large advert. It read:
“SEEKING FULL-TIME NANNY FOR FIVE DELIGHTFUL CHILDREN. CONTACT FATHER AT 555-555-5555 FOR FURTHER INQUIRIES.”
A nanny? That was something under the realm of your expertise. It probably wasn’t the first place you expected to take your career, but there was no being picky anymore. You went and grabbed your corded phone off the wall and punched in the number.
For a few seconds you waited as the phone rang. Finally, it ceased.
“Hello?”
You were a bit nervous. Even though you’ve done this countless times, making a good first impression never stopped being scary. You took a deep breath and started talking.
“Hi, I’m (y/n) and I was calling about the ad in the paper for a nanny.”
“Oh, that. Well if you’re interested, would you be able to come on over for an interview?”
“Of course. Just give me a moment to pull up something on the computer.”
You were smart enough to have your bulky desktop computer on a table right next to your phone, so you could easily access the internet while still using it. You shook the mouse, awakening it from sleep mode. You asked the man on the phone where the interview would be. You went to your most frequented map website and typed in the address he told you. To your dismay, the interview was about a five hour drive away in another state.
“I’m sorry sir, but I live quite far from where you are and if I came up for the interview today it wouldn’t be until the evening that we would be able to do it, is that a problem?”
There was a brief pause.
“Not an issue,” He said. “Is 6 o’clock good?”
“That’s perfect.” you replied. “I’ll be there then.”
You hung up the phone. Part of you was mad at yourself for what you just committed to. If this Father guy was advertising so far away from where he was, he must be searching wide. Your chances of employment were lower than ever and yet still you’re still going on a road trip for it. Whatever. It’s not like you had anything else better to do today. You downed your now completed coffee and got to work. You went to open your wardrobe to grab that one set of nice clothes that you always used for any professional matter. You then spent a good amount of time grooming yourself to the absolute best you could. Once all dolled up, you grabbed everything you needed for the long trek and headed out.
The five-hour drive flew by in no time. To ease your anxieties about the interview, you had brought your favorite CDs and snacks for the ride. Your road trip fun almost made you forget you had a very important meeting to go to.
As you closed in on your destination, you stopped by a local diner to grab a quick early supper while you still had time. Perfectly on schedule, you followed the directions until you finally arrived.
For a moment after you got there, you were in disbelief. This is where I’m being interviewed!?
You found yourself in front of a massive house. Calling it a mansion would be an understatement. The thing was a freaking palace. You parked on the side of the road and approached the home. You rang the doorbell. You had hardly a second to wait, as the door opened almost immediately after you rang. Standing at the doorway were five children. These were presumably the same five children you would be tasked with taking care of should you land the job. There were three boys: one very tall boy whose hair covered his eyes, another wearing a football helmet, and a short blonde boy. That left the two girls: one with straight, blonde hair with a bow sitting atop it, and the other, a stout, bespectacled girl. “Hello, are you Miss (l/n)?” They all spoke in unison. “Yes, that’s me,” you replied. “I’m here for the interview.”
“Follow us,” they said. You followed the kids down some hallways until you reached a door. They all knocked. “Father, Miss (l/n) is here for her interview.”
“Perfect,” came a voice from inside the room. It was the voice of the man you had talked to on the phone. “Let her in.”
The children opened the door and you walked in. The room was surprisingly dark. The main source of light was coming from a fireplace at the back wall. To its side was a desk, and a man sitting behind it. You could only make out his silhouette. At first, you thought it was the bad lighting, but as you approached him, you noticed something strange. The objects around him were surprisingly well lit by the fire, but he somehow remained completely in shadow. His amber eyes were sharp, as if they could stare into the deepest recesses of your soul. You began to sweat nervously, both from the heat of the fire and the unnerving sensation you got from the man in front of you. You sat down at the chair in front of the desk, face to face with the man of mystery.
“Hello, I’m (y/n), and thank you very much for this opportunity,” you greeted, offering out your hand for a handshake. “The pleasure is all mine,” the man replied. “The folks around these parts call me Father.” His own hand, dark as a starless night, came out and shook yours. The handshake was just as bizarre as his appearance. His hand initially felt cold, but it also felt as if something underneath was very warm, like walking with bare wet feet on scorching pavement in the summertime. It was practically mesmerizing, and it took a bit of willpower just to let go and continue on with the meeting.
“As you can see, I am a single parent of five Delightful Children,” Father noted. “I’m a very busy man, and they need someone else to watch over them. What are your qualifications for such a role?”
“Well, I’m fresh out of college with a Bachelor’s in Psychology, with a focus on childhood development,” you claimed. “I believe my education will be of great use in this job.”
“I see,” Father reacted. “Do you have any previous nanny experience?”
You shook your head. “I have had babysitting gigs here and there, but nothing long term.”
“Alright, good to know,” he responded. “Now for another question. What do you think about children?”
Upon hearing the word children, you cracked a little smile. “Well, I wouldn’t have gone into a childhood development focus if I didn’t love them!”
“Uh huh…” Father said, almost in a groan-like manner. Did he not like what you said? Worry began to swarm your mind. “Well, then answer this for me,” he said. “What is your opinion of the Kids Next Door?”
The Kids Next Door? This was your expertise! “Funny you should mention that…” you began. “I actually wrote my senior thesis about the KND! Basically, the main argument is that they are a massive poison for a child’s development.”
You noticed that Father’s eyes had widened, clearly finding great interest in what you were saying. You continued. “The KND’s main mission is ‘liberating kids from adult tyranny’, or so they say. What that actually translates to is getting in the way of parents doing their role at all cost. This makes it so a KND member, or one who idolizes the organization, will grow up with a great sense of entitlement, feeling unobligated to do anything they’re told. This entitled kid becomes an entitled adult later down the road, and they’ll have entitled kids, creating a whole cycle of entitlement, with the KND being the perpetual motion machine keeping the cycle alive! I surveyed hundreds of elementary school teachers from across the country, seeing if the behavior of children in areas known for frequent KND activity differed from-"
“I’m going to have to stop you there,” Father interrupted. “This all sounds very interesting. Do you have a history with the organization?”
“No, I don’t,” you responded. “But I have noticed their undeniable effect on children, and I felt obligated to analyze it for my project. It’s something I felt hadn’t been addressed enough.”
“Funny coincidence,” Father said. “There’s a very prominent Kids Next Door base here in town and believe it or not, I happen to be on the top of their hitlist.”
“You’re kidding!” you said in disbelief.
Father chuckled. “My Delightful Children do most of the dirty work, but I’ve had a few schemes of my own that have nearly taken out the entire organization.”
You were amazed. “How do you oppose such a large establishment?” You asked. “Best I could do was write some crummy papers.”
“As I’ve said, there’s a Kids Next Door base in town,” he replied. “We usually go for the base itself, or we go after places or things they value. Sometimes it’s a subtle takeover, other times it’s a giant robot. Depends on the day.”
Giant robots? Absolutely insane. “Guess I really am an underachiever,” you jested.
“Well, we could change that,” Father responded. “You see I did stretch the truth a bit with my ad. If you get this job, you won’t be just a nanny. You’ll be an instrument in the ultimate downfall of the Kids Next Door.”
Woah. That was a lot to take in. “That’s… a lot to think about,” you said. “I kinda drove up here with completely different expectations… How much would it pay?”
“I’d start you at $500,000 a year,” he answered. “How does that sound?”
Five hundred thousand!? That’s more than what most doctors make! All for being a nanny!? Granted, you’d be facing the KND, and who knows what danger that could involve? But for five hundred grand?
“I’m in,” you said without hesitation. “If you end up choosing me, how long do you think it would before I get the memo?”
“Oh, I don’t think you’d have to wait a moment at all,” Father said ominously.
“You’re hired.”