Now Loading Operation R.O.U.G.E.
Rouge
Operatives
Undermine
Greatest
Expectations
Prologue
Just after the events in KND Operation SNOWING
Numbah 077 "Oh-Double-Seven" squeezed the trigger of his custom Chocolate-Chip assault rifle, listening in satisfaction to the oddly high-pitched scream of a choclifyied teenager from within the bush to the right of the smashed Bus-Walker. Moving swiftly to the location of the teenager's unfortunate demise, he kicked the teen's Homework rifle a safe distance and prodded the moaning guy with the end of his rifle. Satisfied he wasn't going anywhere, Jason Clark slapped another clip into his rifle and allowed a slight smile to play across his lips. He should have stayed inside watching TV instead of trying to play games with us kids. But then the smile faded. A few months ago that sort of humor would have been worth repeating over a root beer at Ricky's later, but now…. Under the present circumstances, Jason was a little too close to actually being a teenager for that to be funny.
In fact, he realized as he stepped back around the wrecked Bus-Walker to where the rest of his Sector- Sector K- was working, his thirteenth birthday had been yesterday. He was surprised Numbah 86 hadn't been breathing down his neck already with her D.O.H.-D.O.H.s. It was a grim thought, and the Operative pushed it out of his mind as he trudged through the ankle-deep snow to where the rest of his Sector stood consolidating their last clean-up sweep through the area.
"Hey skipper!" a familiar voice split the brittle cold air. "Sector P reports that they're all done mopping up on our right flank." Numbah 78, Matthew Sommers, was Sector K's 2x4 technology officer and Jason's long-time friend.
"Excellent, Numbah Seven-Eight. Have we completed our last two quadrants yet?"
"Yessir, Number Seventy-Nine is through and headed back as we speak. We're clear to lift as soon as she gets here."
"Understood, Seven-Eight. Good work, team."
Just then transport arrived, in the form of a KND SCHOOLBUS that had been modified into an assault transport. Conveniently enough, Numbah 79 showed up just as the crew was slinging their teen-finder gear into the bus, and the Sector lifted out of the one-time battlefield.
Numbah 78 found his way back to the rear of the bus and sat next to Jason, who was cleaning the mechanism of his Chocolate-Chip rifle painstakingly. Matt shook his head- the man spent more time with that rifle than with his own family.
"Well, skip, looks like another job well done for Sector K," he said, sitting down. A smile worked across Jason's mouth, then just as quickly dissolved. Matt frowned; Jason saw it and worked the smile back up as best he could. "Another one for the books, right, Seven-Eight?"
"That's right sir. And you and I write them."
"Yep." The smile faded again. "Wrote."
"Hey, so you're getting DeComm-ed (it was slang for Decommissioned). So what? I'm sure you'll find a way to keep on slugging it out against adult tyranny for a long time to come."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Heck, the teens do it well enough, don't they?" They laughed. When it had faded, Matt said:
"Yeah. But tonight, whatdoya say to a drink- heck, a bunch of drinks- at Ricky's and we remember the good times?"
"I think I might just take you up on that."
Matt grinned and had just turned his attention to his blinking communications link when there was a terrible lurch, the screeching of metal as the transport reeled in shock, and everything pitched into blackness.