AN: This is an AU, what-if-the-splinter-cell-was-real fics picking up after the events of Operation G.I.R.L.F.R.I.E.N.D. Of course, I probably shamelessly butcher characters and events, but ah well. Enjoy, I suppose. Like most people on this site, I don't own any rights to the show.
Images flashed across the screen. A giant tree, fit with 2x4 technology, lying across Times Square, cars crushed underneath. Graffiti on the US Capitol, claiming that "they" were coming for you. Analysts and experts puzzling over this behavior and the implications that a new terrorist group could have on America and the world. Adults talking about how they double-locked their doors at night. Child scientists discussing how the use of KND technology shows that the splinter cell is directly linked to the organization. Sector leaders marvelling at a lack of clues pointing to any one suspect.
"What you have just seen are acts attributed to the KND splinter cell," Numbuh 10 intoned. "Opposed to all adults and determined to steer the Kids Next Door towards that road. We have yet to hear from Numbuh 362 herself, but Numbuh 411 of the KND Public Relations branch assured us in a press conference earlier today that our leader is doing everything within her power to combat this threat."
"And now, a word from Numbuh 40 at the weather desk," Numbuh 11.0 said cheerfully, ruining the somber mood. "Numbuh 40?"
"What do you mean, 'REQUEST DENIED'!" Rachel shouted, sweeping a pile of papers of her desk in one defiant gesture to whichever bureaucrat had turned down her application to get Numbuhs 41 and 43 on the search for members of the splinter cell.
"I don't know, maybe that yeh can't get them on the case?" Numbuh 86 bit back sarcastically. "Look, sir, I don't understand why our crime-solving branch would override your orders, but apparently those two already have a case."
"What could possibly be more important than finding the splinter cell? You know, that thing that's been terrorizing and taunting us for months now?" Rachel got up from her desk and circled around to the window, stopping to gaze appreciatively at the view with her hands clasped behind her back. She missed the days when she was Chad's assistant and there was no splinter cell- everything was frustrating, but at least it was simple.
"If yeh would let me on the case, sir, I would find those cruddy traitors and beat them to a pulp," Numbuh 86 grumbled. Rachel wished she could let her friend on the case. Numbuh 86 was widely feared among all participants in the war between kids, adults, and teens, and had proven that she could get results from two long years as Head of the Decommissioning Squad, an elite unit charged with hunting down teenagers and rogue operatives and erasing their memories of the KND. However, she had a sneaking suspicion that Numbuh 86 was out for revenge rather than just to stop the splinter cell. A few days prior, Numbuh 60, head of the Arctic base and a good friend to both Rachel and Numbuh 86, had gone missing. Though he vanished without a trace and no ransom note had appeared, it was obviously the work of the splinter cell.
"Fanny, could you get me Numbuh 1 on the line, please?" Rachel asked, bringing one hand from behind her back to pinch the bridge of her nose. Sometimes it was better just to ignore what Numbuh 86 said under her breath. "It's been a long day and I'd like to call it a night as soon as I can. I promised him I'd check in before heading home."
Almost all Moonbase personnel had been pulling all-nighters since the splinter cell had emerged less than a year ago. Rest and relaxation was almost as prized as Yipper cards and Rainbow Monkeys, and some operatives (Rachel included) didn't leave Moonbase until the weekends. Some operatives (such as Numbuh 35, head of communications) hadn't been home in over a month.
Fanny gave her friend a solemn look. "I'm gonna give you some advice, Rachel." This was serious, Rachel concluded, since Fanny only dropped formalities when things got desperate. "Don't get too attached to him. If he goes missin' one day..." Numbuh 86 shrugged.
"Just because Patton left doesn't mean that-,"
"Stupid boy never left in the first place," Fanny grumbled walking out to go wake Numbuh 35 and get him to hook the switchboard up for the call. Rachel sighed as the door swung shut behind Fanny. A wave of exhaustion rolled over her, and she felt older than she had in her entire life (eleven years is a short time, but playing adult to thousands of children wears a person down quickly). The splinter cell. Rachel selfishly wished that it had come after she was decommissioned, that the imminent threat of the disintegration of the KND was someone else's problem.
The screen in front of her desk buzzed to life in a whirr of static and beeps as the satellite connected her screen with a screen thousands of miles away in the suburbs of Virginia. Rachel took her place in her desk chair, crossing her hands in as professional a manner as she could achieve and donning her serious "face of leadership" in preparation for the eventual uplink with the Sector V computer.
A face soon materialized onscreen, with eyes covered by black tinted sunglasses and a neck covered by a turtleneck sweater. The operative snapped to attention, giving a sharp salute to Rachel.
"Numbuh 362, sir," he acknowledged, British accent spitting out the words with precision.
"At ease, Numbuh 1," Rachel said more out of habit than anything else. "Any new leads in the Capitol case?"
Numbuh 1 adopted what Rachel presumed was a calculating expression (it always was hard to tell with those glasses). "I'm afraid not, Rachel. The letters were stencilled on instead of handwritten, and it's obvious that the video feeds on the security cameras were compromised for a three-day time frame, making it almost impossible for my team to properly gather evidence or weasel out a list of suspects. How are things on your side, Rachel? I saw a particularly unflattering editorial regarding your role in the search for Patton in the school newspaper this morning, as well as how Rainbow Munchies haven't been as munchy since you became Supreme Leader."
"That stuff is making local school newspapers now?" Rachel asked, concerned. "Nigel, this is bad. Next thing we know, adults will see that stuff, make connections. We know they're not completely oblivious to what's going this time, but adult interference will only make things worse."
"I know," Nigel sighed. He removed his glasses, and Rachel was able to see that his eyes ("such a lovely blue," her inner girly-girl whispered) were full of the same care-worn weariness as hers were. "Numbuh 10 told me that there are rumors in the adult journalism community that the government might attempt to intervene."
"Where's her source, Nigel? You know as well as I do that information from anyone without zip-your-lips clearance can't be trusted."
"Her mother is a journalist for an adult news program. She's met people who have been briefed on the situation and seem to imply as much."
"How did she-," Rachel started.
"Well, it took a lot of work on Numbuh 2's part, but we were able to fabricate a robot version of Numbuh 10's mother, which she then operated in order to extract the information. A little unorthodox," Nigel grinned a little at this, "but I think the overall results were worth it."
Rachel smiled and shook her head, "I wouldn't expect anything less than unorthodox from you, soldier. How's that girlfriend of yours holding up with all of this? I'd guess she's ready to murder you with the lack of breaks operatives have been getting in the past few weeks."
"We broke up," he said dryly, replacing his sunglasses and adopting a terse frown. "But anyways, Numbuh 362, have you had any other good leads? It's getting late and my mom only lets me sleep in the tree house if I'm in bed by 10:30."
"Negative, Numbuh 1," Rachel sighed. "Get some rest, soldier. Over and out." The words "End Transmission" blinked across the screen a few times before it ultimately went blank. Rachel collapsed headfirst onto her desk, uncrossing and shifting her arms to effectively bury her face in her sweatshirt sleeves. Every time, every-cruddy-time she talked to Numbuh 1, she screwed up.
She was so busy thinking about how things couldn't have gone worse that she didn't notice Fanny re-enter her office.
"It's like I said, Rachel," Fanny said sadly, patting her friend on the back, "Gettin' attached only spells trouble."
"Numbuh 4?" Numbuh 5 asked, using her signature tone of scepticism.
"Yeah, Numbuh 5?"
"'Trouble' is not spelled 'g-e-t-t-i-n-g-a-t-t-a-c-h-e-d. Just thought you might want to know."
"Aw, crud. I spent eleventy bajillion hours on that homework!"
The various operatives of Sector V, Numbuh 1 excluded, lounged around on various sofas and beanbag chairs that comprised the main sitting area and communal living room. Numbuhs 4 and 5 sat in two adjacent armchairs, both well-worn and obviously scavenged from either a local junkyard or an antique shop. Numbuh 3 lay spread-eagle on a large square of shag carpeting, playing with her Rainbow Monkeys. Numbuh 2 sat about ten feet away from the others, hunched over the monitor of an out-dated looking computer, with his eyes racing to keep up with the mountains of raw computer code that danced across the screen.
"Numbuh 2, what are you doing?" Numbuh 5 demanded, raising one eyebrow as she got up from her chair and headed over to the computer desk.
"Checking our code for any spyware and making sure that none of the files have been tampered with. Moonbase sent a bulletin to all 2x4 specialists warning us to keep our computers safe, or manually file away designs and mission specs." Numbuh 2 was absorbed in his task, eyes barely blinking to register Numbuh 5's presence at the desk.
"Numbuh 5 thinks that we should all be gettin' to bed. Gonna be a long day tomorrow." Abby shot a pointed look at Numbuh 4 in particular.
"Wot? I've got so much more homework to do!" Wally complained. He crossed his arms defiantly. "Besides, Numbuh 1 gets to stay up!"
"That's a-cause Numbuh 1 is checking in with Numbuh 362. He'll be done in a minute, anyways," Numbuh 5 attempted to calm Wally down. Of course, Numbuh 3 just had to go and undo the effects of any soothing by opening her big mouth.
"Yeah, Wally. Nigel needs to check in with his new girlfriend to make sure she doesn't break up with him like Lizzie did!"
Of course, Numbuh 1 chose to walk in the main sitting room at this very moment. Abby noticed his eyebrows get into that weird scrunchy position they achieved only when Numbuh 1 was incredibly irritated (usually with a member of his team) but was trying desperately to hide it. She could almost hear him internally counting to ten to calm himself down.
"Numbuh 5 has a point, team," Numbuh 1 said evenly, and Abby sighed. Last thing their sector needed at that moment was a fight. "We should all be getting to bed. Numbuh 2!" The tech specialist looked up from his computer screen. "Computer security check can wait until morning. Numbuh 35 hinted that some high-ranking officers may be stopping by to see if any damage control can be done to smooth out the situation involving the Capitol building. I want everyone to be well-rested and alert when they arrive. We don't want Global Command to think we've gone soft."
Slowly, and with much complaint on the part of Numbuh 4, Numbuhs 2, 3, and 4 filed off to their respective rooms to get the sleep their leader had ordered. Numbuh 5 hung back, however, to give Numbuh 1 one last bit of food for thought.
"You did good handling Wally, boss," Abby said, and her tinge of sarcasm and elbow nudge convinced her uptight friend that now it was okay to joke. "Although seriously? Keep callin' Numbuh 362 and Numbuh 5'll be bettin' a week's worth of allowance on the two of you getting' together."
Nigel Uno opened his mouth to protest the charges, but Abby just gave him a small smirk and a wave before heading off to her part of the tree house. Numbuh 1 was left alone with his thoughts.
There is nothing in the world that Nigel loved more than a lazy Sunday morning. The birds were chirping, the sun was bright and, according to the list of missed calls on his communicator , Numbuhs 86 and 362 were hurtling towards Earth at that very minute. Now, some would say that Nigel could get just the teensiest bit wound up at times. These people would be proficient at understating obvious truths. At that given moment, Nigel was wound tighter than the spring mechanism of a watch that had been placed in the hands of a hyperactive kindergartener.
"Wake up, guys! C'mon, pretty please with pancakes and syrup on top?" Nigel spoke in to a microphone which was connected to an intercom system that ran throughout the tree house. When no operatives stirred from their sleep, he shouted in to the device. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP, YOU GUYS! Numbuh 86 is on her way right this minute and will personally murder you all in your sleep if she finds you like this!"
That certainly got everyone's attention. Death by Numbuh 86 sounded like horrible way to go. Numbuh 4 jumped a full three feet in the air, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone.
By the time Numbuh 86 and Numbuh 362 actually showed up a few minutes later, all members of Sector V were standing at attention in the hangar. Numbuh 362 smiled shyly at the assembled sector (and part of Nigel wished that smile was only for him), while Numbuh 86 stomped down the gangplank and came to a stop two paces behind her leader.
"Well, everyone," Rachel started awkwardly, "about that graffiti-,"
Of course, the Kids Next Door Help Me Hotline chose to go off at that moment.
All of the operatives raced over to the screen, where the flashing letters warned of an incoming transmission. The screen flickered to life in a wave of static and fuzz, and when an image finally formed, none of the operatives could believe what they saw. On the screen was a man of about forty dressed in a little sailor suit, muscular and hairy arms poking awkwardly out of the sleeves. When the man spoke, he used a pathetic attempt at a falsetto.
"Help me, Kids Next Door!" the man squeaked, "I have a problem!"
"The KND only helps children, you idiot!" Fanny screeched, pushing her way to the front. "If you think we're buying that stupid disguise, then yeh're just asking for me to come and kick your butt halfway to Mars!"
The man's face fell. "I told you they wouldn't buy it, Ryerson," he hissed. Regaining his composure (however much can be regained when you are a forty year old man wearing a sailor suit made for children), the man began to speak in a voice reminiscent of Numbuh 60's: sharp, commanding, and militaristic. "Various members of the FBI have been attempting to contact the Kids Next Door for weeks. We wish to inform you that the federal government feels that the issues regarding this so-called 'child terrorist cell' are too large to be under the sole jurisdiction of children. We wish to arrange a meeting with the leaders of your organization to formally acknowledge our handling of the case and to issue a subpoena demanding all files related to this group."
Numbuh 1 decided he would do the talking in this situation, since Fanny looked like she was about to say some things that would get her on the FBI's Most Wanted list. "Numbuh 362, sir, with all due respect. Permission to speak?" Rachel gave a nod of assent. Nigel started in to his response. "I'll put you in contact with Numbuh Infinity, who is our chief diplomat. However, I cannot assure you of a meeting. You would have been better off to spend another week attempting to contact Global Command rather than us, since we are technically incapable of dealing with matters as delicate as this."
Nigel did not think it would be prudent to mention where Moonbase was or that the Supreme Leader was actually present while the conversation was occurring. He figured if the adults were so desperate to contact the Kids Next Door that they would dress up in ridiculous sailor suits and use moronic falsettos that they would be willing to wait a little longer for a formal meeting.
"Why'd you do that, yeh stupid boy?" Fanny screeched after the screen went blank. Nigel explained his reasoning, and only the Supreme Leader's acceptance of the idea calmed Numbuh 86 down.
"Besides," Rachel said with a smirk, "they can't use their power of subpoena if all our files happen to be on the Moon. Numbuh 2, I want you to fly to various bases and inform all technical officers that they should start removing files from computers and make sure that all mission reports and weapon specs are backed up on Moonbase. Numbuh 86, go back to Moonbase and inform Numbuh 35 that he needs to re-scramble our communication lines. We don't want any adults compromising our systems."
Fanny could understand where Rachel was coming from. Yes, the United States government is kind of a big deal, and they weren't necessarily evil adults. However, Numbuh 1 (irritating, infernal boy that he was) had a point. The government was desperate to stop the splinter cell, and they were even farther behind than the KND was in catching the culprits.
"And anyways, wouldn't getting the FBI involved just make the splinter cell angrier? I mean, the whole point is to destroy adults, and if Global Command can't handle its own problems, then more kids might be driven to the cause," Numbuh 2 said, looking up from where he had been going over various flight routes with Numbuh 4.
"And besides, those cruddy adults couldn't even tell that they didn't even land on the cruddy moon!" Numbuh 4 added, and at that everyone chuckled or wiped an imaginary tear of mirth from their eye at the ingenuity of kids and the stupidity of adults.
"So it's settled, then," said Numbuh 1 with an air of finality about him. Rachel and Fanny made to leave, and Numbuh 1 volunteered to lead them back to the hangar. Fanny felt a twinge of fury at Numbuh 1 as he and Rachel discussed things quietly, heads bent together as if co-conspiracy was second nature to them.
As the ship slowly made its way back to the moon and their respective mountains of paperwork, Rachel turned to her friend and said, almost absent-mindedly, "I'm going to talk to Infinity about this. It's his job to organize this sort of thing anyways. I'm thinking maybe you, me, Patton, if we can find him, and Numbuh 1 could make up the diplomatic party. You okay with that?"
Fanny gave pause at that. Rachel, she realized, had listed the four people she trusted enough to know that they weren't from the splinter cell. She had two options: one was to protest and demean Numbuh 1 and exasperate Rachel even more, and the other was to nod.
Fanny chose option two.
Sector C-W (Canada West) was usually a pretty quiet sector. Other than the occasional rescue of a kid who was about to die of boredom on a nature hike, there wasn't much to do. That day, however, was different. On that particular day, Patton Drilovsky, head of the Arctic base and MIA for two weeks, appeared in the Peace Arch Provincial Park.
He claimed to have seen the splinter cell.
AN: They never mention Canadian sectors. This irritates me, as I could not find a good sector name. Whatever. Thank-you's and references! Lots of love goes out to CodeLyokoIsTheBest, who beta-read this for me (check out her stories, they're super-awesome), and the KND Code Module, which once again proved an invaluable resource.