Operation: B.O.W.L

Broadcast. Obviously. Went. Live

The crowds went wild as the ball was passed between players. Using the moment of confusion, the runner blitz forward, and his teammates cleared the way as he charged. The man managed to make it to the forty-yard line before a mass of bodies toppled over him, the tweet of the whistle being the only thing breaking through the clamor of cheers and jeers.

Inside the stadium, away from the eyes of millions both live and abroad, Abby poked her head around the corner. She lifted the rim of her cap, searching for any adults or lost fans. Seeing the hallway empty of occupants, she made a series of hand motions, and Hoagie tip-toed out from behind her.

The boy carefully moved across the lot, overly cautious as he scouted for trouble. Confident enough the coast was clear, he hugged the east wall, taking out a screwdriver and loosening the bolts of a metal panel. Hoagie fiddled with the wiring, yelping as he shocked himself a few times. After a moment, he turned to give Abby a thumbs up as the garage door began to open.

Abby dashed to join Hoagie as their other teammates strolled in. In the center stood Nigel, hands clasped behind his back with Kuki and Wally at his sides, waving around gihugic foam fingers and sporting a team jersey respectively.

Nigel's calculating eyes scanned the lot, pleased to find phase one had gone smoothly. "Excellent work, you two. We've infiltrated the stadium without a hint of trouble, and are right on schedule."

Abby nodded while Hoagie grinned. "Was a piece of cake, chief. Good thing Nick and Chip owed me for that whole derby fiasco last week."

"Numbuh 5 still says we didn't need to give those guards both tickets to get in," Abby grumbled. "You know how much candy we coulda scored with the cash from just one of them?"

"I didn't see you trying to help with the haggling."

"Cut the chatter, we have work to do," Nigel said firmly, both kids before him muttering as they stood at attention. "We're on a tight timeline and have to act quickly."

"I can't believe we get to watch the Super bowl!" Kuki cheered, waving her foam fingers around and accidently whacking Nigel in the back of the head and sending him tumbling over. "We get to eat popcorn, buy overly expensive hotdogs, and- ooooh the half-time show! It's gonna be super fun!"

"For once, Numbuh 3 has the right idea," Wally chimed in, using his thumbs to flex out the jersey representing his favorite team. "We get to see adults beat the crud outta each other live! And here I thought ya didn't know how to have a good time, Numbuh 1."

"We're not here to have a good time," Nigel said, rubbing the spot where Kuki smacked him. "We're here to perform a super doubly important mission."

"What? Oh come on. Everyone else is watching the game!"

"That's precisely the point! Super bowl Sunday is the only day of the year where every adult, villain or otherwise, is sitting at home on their lazy butts and shouting at the TV," he said, a gleam in his eyes as he pounded his fists together. "And while those buffoons are occupied with watching their brethren play soccer-"

"Football," Abby corrected.

"-we'll strike so fast and hard that their stuffy business ties will spin!"

Hoagie scratched underneath his helmet, trying to piece together where his friend was going with this. "So, what's our plan here? We gonna sabotage the game or something?"

"My dear naïve friend, you're not thinking big enough," Nigel chuckled as he wrapped his arm around his confused pilot. "We're not going to sabotage their petty little game. No, we're going to sabotage the most important aspect of the Super bowl: the commercials."

Wally scoffed, folding his arms. "What's so special about stupid commercials?"

"They're the best part, silly!" Kuki squealed, twirling around and knocking Wally upside the noggin with her massive mitts. "I LOVE the commercials! They're so funny, like the one with the chips, and the talking cars, and the KITTENS! The ones with the kittens are the bestest ones ever!"

"Numbuh 3, calm down-WHOA!" Abby yelped, ducking last second to avoid getting hit by the finger. Her hands sprang up to catch her hat, and she readjusted it as she fixed her composure. "Anyway, sport's actually making some sense, boss. What do we care about some lame commercials?"

"Super bowl commercials aren't lame, Numbuh 5, they're evil," Nigel said lowly, his face darkening. His sunglasses dipped slightly, but his expression didn't waver as he fixed them. "Every year adults take over the television, depriving kids of cartoons and forcing them to watch this stupid game. As if it couldn't get any more diabolical, they're then subjected to sit through commercials to be brainwashed by subliminal messaging by sinister adult corporations."

"Subliminal messaging? C'mon, man, that's crazy."

"Nuh uh!" Nigel pouted, stomping his foot. "Adults do it all the time to force our parents to buy things like number two pencils, binders, and suspenders instead of cool toys and comic books; and super bowl commercials are the worst offenders! Well, this year, things are going to be different. Show them, Numbuh 3."

"Okay!" Kuki arms swung behind her back, everyone hitting the deck to avoid the foam fingers. After a bit of fumbling, the girl somehow managed to pull a small video tape from her sweater's pouch. "Ta da!"

Kids Next Door: V.I.D.E.O-T.A.P.E

Video. Instantly. Delivers. Electronic. Override. - Terminating. Adult. Plans. Effectively.

"If the adults want to take this to broadcast, then so will we. While everyone is in the throes of the game, we'll hijack the signal and give them a little commercial of our own," Nigel said, dusting his knuckles against his turtleneck. "With a buhmillion people watching, the KND's message will spread across the airwaves like chicken pox; our recruitment numbers will quadruple-fy!"

"Yep-a-roni! I worked all night on it," Kuki beamed. Suddenly she frowned, and jabbed her giant finger into Nigel's chest. "And you better appreciate it, mister bossy-pants. I had to miss last night's Rainbow Monkey Drama Soap Opera Hour to fix up your propaganda."

"It's not propaganda if it's true," Nigel said, slapping her glove away. He cleared his throat before addressing the team again. "Let's get this show on the road. Numbuh 3 and I will make our way to the video control room while Numbuhs 2 and 5 adjust the broadcast tower to amplify our transmission by a 110%. Kids Next Door, move out!"

"Hey!" Wally protested, jumping up and down wildly. "What about me?"

"You will stay by the ship and wait for our signal to flip on the COOLBUS' emergency generators. Speaking of which, Numbuh 2, is everything ready on that end?"

"Totally," Hoagie smirked, rubbing his hands together. "I've spliced the engines into the stadium power grid. Once those babies light up, we'll have enough juice to broadcast our signal to the Moonbase itself!"

Nigel nodded in satisfaction before facing Wally. "We need that power if our plan is to work. I'm counting on you, Numbuh 4."

"You can't be serious," Wally huffed, kicking at the ground. "Ya mean to tell me I gotta stay in the ship and press a stupid button?"

"It's probably the most important piece to our operation, so yes, you're going to stay by the ship and press a stupid button."

"I don't even get to punch anything!?"

"If all goes well, no one will even know we're here." Nigel rose his hand, silencing any further arguments from the feisty blond. "End of discussion. Let's move out, people!"

"…and the Denver Buckaroos have scored another touchdown," announced a man from the commentator's booth. He held his hand against his head set, nodding along with the information being fed to him live. "I have to say, Chuck, the Carolina Leopards are getting their butts kicked."

His partner nodded, clasping his hands as he looked down on the field. The man grimaced, turning his head away slightly. "Right you are, Nate. Right you are. If the Leopards don't make a comeback soon they can kiss their Super bowl dream goodbye and go straight home crying to their mommies."

"Speaking of mommies, the number one shopping stop for all mothers is none other than the Hugiplex Shopping Center," Nate segued, contract obligations and promises of fat paychecks fueling his hollow words. "Hugiplex Shopping Center: your one-stop shop for all your corporate influenced needs. Stop by today! We'll return after another word from our sponsors."

"Dad," a voiced whined. Nate and Chuck turned in their seats, lifting their headphones to gaze upon the two boys seated upon the couch, bored out of their mind. "Do we have to sit here and watch the game with you guys?"

"Of course you do, Chip," Nate answered sternly. "Your mothers told us to keep an eye on you, which means you have to sit up here with us."

"Besides, you should be lucky boys," Chuck laughed at his side, gesturing to the glass. "You get a birds-eye view."

Chip groaned as he sunk into the leather, Nick letting out an exaggerated sigh beside him. "But Yipper Squad 16 is on!"

The two adults shared a lot, then collapsed into raucous laughter. "Oh boys, the Super bowl is much more important than your silly cartoons. You can catch the re-run tomorrow."

"Now hold on, Nate. Tomorrow is when we get to cover all the replays from today."

"Oh yeah, that's right. Never mind, boys! Tough luck."

Nick and Chip grumbled, kicking their feet into the couch as their fathers droned on and on. Their head perks up when there was a rapid knocking on the door. Whomever was on the other side was unrelenting, as the knocking continued until Chuck finally decided to get off his hindquarters and answered.

The man approached the door, hand on the knob as he called out suspiciously. "Who is it?"

"Pizza delivery!" a bubbly voice replied.

Chuck looked back to Nate, who only shrugged. Chuck frowned, slowly opening the door. "We didn't order any pizza."

"Now that can't be right," a heavy British accented voice answered. "Because it says right here you requested extra cheese."

"Extra what? GAH!"

Strings of hot, gooey mozzarella spewed forth, Chuck raising his hands defensively as the cheesy goo coated him from head to toe. The commentator was forced into the wall, the substance sticking and catching against his suit and entrapping him. Nick and Chip watched with a mixture of fear and amazement as Nick's father was plastered until he couldn't move.

Nate shot to his feet, reaching for the security button. Another wave of mozzarella swept under him, sending him to the floor. Four more globs shot out, hardening around his hands and feet. He struggled to free himself, and sucked in a breath to call for help. One final mass of cheese stopped him, gagging his mouth and reducing him to mumbles.

Nick and Chip held onto one another in fear as the door was kicked down. However, as they saw Nigel and Kuki enter, holstering two smoking cheese-blasters, they visibly relaxed, though more than a bit miffed.

"What the heck was that for?" Nick asked, noticing his dad wiggling fruitlessly against his cheesy confines. "Hoagie didn't say anything about you stringing up our dads!"

"Apologies, but drastic times call for drastic measures," Nigel answered, crossing his arms. In the background, Kuki ripped a string of cheese from the wall, and began slurping it up. "We're commandeering this station as part of top priority KND business."

Chip regarded Nigel wryly. "You could've just asked."

"No time for diplomacy," Nigel said, snapping his hand up to shot Chuck's mouth before he could yell. "Numbuh 3, are we ready?"

Kuki nosily slurped down her last string of mozzarella, licking her lips as she pumped her foam finger in the air. "Ready like spaghetti!"

Nigel grinned, reaching into his backpack to secure the VIDEOTAPE. The device was concealed within a super omega-locked casing; football shaped, as Kuki figured it appropriate for the occasion, despite her leader's objections. Nigel walked over to the terminal, multiple monitors showing live footage.

Without a care, he brushed aside the instruments, clearing the way for the case. He reached over to plug it in, looking up at one of the screens with a sneer. The cads were playing a commercial at this very moment. "Disgusting."

"EEEEIIEE! It's the one with the puppy and the horsey!" Kuki cried. Nigel attempted to dodge, but reacted too late, and was brushed aside by the girl's foam hand. She pressed her face into the screen, eyes glossing over as she let loose a shaky sigh of joy. "They're so cute!"

"Will you watch where you swing that thing?" Nigel snapped, standing up with his sunglasses haphazardly across his face. He didn't even bother to fix them as he tore her from the screen, bemoaning at how the smallest thing could distract her. "It's a commercial for adult beverages, Numbuh 3. It's not even meant for you!"

"But this is the one where the puppy gets lost and the horsey saves him from the scary wolf!" she cried, tears of happiness streaming down her face. "It's just…so precious!"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Nigel complained, using his blaster to gunk up the screen. He ignored Kuki's whining and whipped out his communicator. "Numbuh 5, how's your end going?"

"Going pretty good, baby," Abby answered. "Numbuh 2's hooking us in now."

At that, Nigel reached in his backpack and produced a pair of binoculars. He brought them up eye level, scanning the skyline for his friend. His sights landed on a tower on the opposite end of the stadium, watching as Hoagie hovered with his heli-pack, jamming jumper cables into the power lines. The portly boy turned to the commentator station and waved excitedly.

Nigel allowed himself a toothy grin as he lowered his spectacles. "Yes! Outstanding work, Numbuh 5. Standby for broadcast."

Kuki half-pouted as Nigel rubbed his hand together, slowly approaching the VIDEOTAPE box with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Can we watch the puppy and horsey now?"

"No, but we're about to see something much better. Let's do this."

Kuki nodded, coming to stand beside her leader. She removed her foam finger, opening her exposed palm. Nigel and Kuki then made borderline retching noises, then hocked massive loogies into their hands. They synced their movements, then pressed their hands into the casing, the DNA scan chiming in conformation.

The case flipped open, the video tape nestled in the center. Nigel turned various dials, then rose his communicator and prepared to deliver the final order. "Alright, Numbuh 4. It's showtime!"

What followed as an awkward pause where nothing happened whatsoever.

"Numbuh 4? Numbuh 4, come in?" Nigel spoke into the device. Brows furrowing, he switched channels and rattled off orders to Abby. "Numbuh 5, call in Numbuh 4. He's not answering me. Tell him that's insubordination and very impolite!"

"Uh, sport's not picking up for me either, Numbuh 1," Abby responded nervously. "Maybe see if ya can leave him a voicemail?"

"Voicemail. Hilarious." Nigel said as he threw the communicator away in frustration. "What could he possibly be doing that's more important than our mission?"

"Alright! Now that's what I'm talking about!" Wally hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Go for his legs. Go for his legs!"

SNAP!

"AAHHH!"

"That's showing 'em!" Wally cheered, the mayhem happening in the field filling him with glee. This had to be the best super bowl ever.

Since they went through so much trouble to get into the stadium, the blond Aussie figured he might as well go all the way. So after using his cool super sneaky stealth skills –and knocking out a couple of guards who managed to spot him regardless-the boy found himself down in the stands, leaning over the railing so close to the action he could taste it.

Wally's hands tightened against the rails as the quarterback for the Leopards intercepted a pass. He watched with bated breath as the man streaked across the field, moving like lightening as he zipped past the opposing team. He rose to his tip-toes, eventually rising off his feet off altogether as he leaned dangerously over the railing, his hands the only things supporting him.

Time seemed to freeze as players from the opposing team rushed the quarterback, but the man expertly broke past them, jumping and landing into the in-zone with barely any inches to spare.

"TOUCHDOWN!"

"YES!" Wally laughed, pumping his fists into the air. He then blinked, suddenly reminded that his hands were the only things holding him up.

Ooops.

"Oh CRUUUUuuuuuu…"

Wally's screams were drowned out by the bellowing crowd. Everyone was so caught up in the brilliance of the play that no one noticed the short little boy rolling and tumbling down the stairs, picking up more and more speed with each descending level. So caught up in the hype of the touchdown, no one seemed to care as the blond boy collided with the railing and was sent flying into the field.

"…uuuuuUUUUD! Ow!" he squeaked as he landed, his face dragging across the dirt. He bumped into something, his world spinning upside down as he landed on his back.

The blinding lights of the stadium made it hard to see, and he slowly rose, spitting clumps of dirt from his mouth. Okay, maybe he got a little too excited. That would not happen again.

Wally looked around him, curious as his hands patted the ground, it being a lot softer than he expected. He looked under his arm, surprised to see fake grass underneath him. Something then tipped into his lap, and his hands went to grip a football that had tumbled off its stance. He threw it up in down in his hands, wondering where it could have come from.

"Wait-"

BAP!

Wally screamed as he was punted clear into the air, them once again being drowned out by a crowd that didn't seem to notice or care that a little boy had fallen in the middle of the field.

Higher above the action, Abby and Hoagie were currently trying to decipher where their little Aussie friend had wandered off to. He wasn't answering the ship's radio, so he wasn't there. They surveyed the stadium, hoping to perhaps catch a glimpse of him.

Abby had her hat pressed to her forehead, shielding her sight from the blinding lights as she tried to pick out a cute rabid, blond attack puppy that was their friend. "Where the heck is that fool? Can't he ever just do his dang job?"

"Aw, lighten up, Numbuh 5," Hoagie said, lifting his goggles as he searched himself. "How much trouble could he possibly get himself into here?"

Abby was about to retort but then she picked up something on the edge of her hearing. Looking up, her eyes widened as she caught sight of an unidentified flying Numbuh Four sailing through the air. Her jaw dropped, and she could only elbow Hoagie and point.

For his part, Hoagie whistled as he watched Wally soar above them. "And he's outta here!"

Abby turned to give him a deadpan stare. "Hate to rain on your parade, Mister Coehn, but I think ya got the wrong sport."

Hoagie simply took it in stride. "Hey, gotta work with what I've got."

"How 'bout you get to work on cleaning up Numbuh 4's mess?" Abby grumbled, dragging the boy down the stairs as they rushed to cross the stadium.

Unbeknownst to the children, high above in the VIP section, another set of spectators were enjoying the activities. Well, one of them was. The other five were simply along because they had to be.

Father was slouched over in his chair, two executive type businessmen fanning him as steam rose from his figure. The villainous bane to children world-wide glowered at the scoreboard, sipping at the root beer being fed to him by his drinking hat, and his hands clutching a handful of uncooked popcorn kernels from his bag.

He watched as the numbers changed, the Carolina Leopards' score increasing as the computer registered their touchdown. His hand tightened around the kernels, and the aroma of burnt popcorn filled the booth.

"That's a load of malarkey!" Father raged, leaping from his seat and throwing his popcorn to the side. He pointed an accusing finger down towards the referee, as if willing the man to suddenly spontaneously-combust.

Which, on a normal day, he would have done without a second thought. However, this was a televised event, and he really didn't need people from the EPA knocking on his door again.

"He was nowhere in bounds; his feet clearly stepped out of place first," he whined, slumping against the railing dejectedly. It seemed things were going his way, but now the opposing team had decided to start playing for real. Just super. He glared at the officials below, yellow eyes narrowing into deadly slits. "Someone needs to re-analyze that footage!"

His eyes shifted to his two business lackeys, one of his brows slowly rising as he noted them not moving an inch.

Why was it so hard to get good help these days?

"Oh, pardon me boys. Don't think I made myself clear there. You see, thing is THAT WASN'T A SUGGESTION!" he yelled, his fiery aura bursting forth and sending the men running with their pants becoming noticeably more soggy.

"Father? May we pose a question?"

"What is it now, my Delightful Children?" Father groaned, flames fizzling out as he looked over to his five children, more than a bit annoyed. Ungrateful whelps never stopped whining, even when he got them VIP seating! "Can't you see Daddy's busy trying to rig a game here?"

"We're sorry to interrupt," the Delightfuls sheepishly apologized before continuing. "But we can't help but wonder if we, perhaps, could do something more…how should we put this…interesting?"

Father frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Not that we're ungrateful!" they quickly amended. "It's just, shouldn't we be enriching our minds this Sunday afternoon? There's this wonderful documentary on the art of paint drying that's playing on another-"

"Children, children, children," Farther tsked, walking over and patting each of their heads. "If I've told you once, I've told you a gazillion times that there's nothing more enriching than watching adults tossing around the ol' pigskin with your old man."

"But Father-"

"NO BUTS!" he exploded, effectively shutting them up. "Watching the super bowl is a wholesome, respectable tradition in which adults can come together with their mutual love of the gridiron."

"Denver Buckaroos suck!"

Father's hand sported a massive fireball, aiming at the family below him. He closed his eyes, and took deep breaths as the ball shrank into an ember.

"EPA is watching, EPA is watching," he silently chanted, shaking off his hand. "I don't see where all this whining is coming from, and quite frankly, I find myself most hurt that you'd rather be at home watching TV then spending time with me doing what I want to do!"

The Delightfuls lowered their heads, lips trembling with guilt. "Forgive us, Father. We're simply bewildered by this sport. For example, why is that ball screaming? That didn't happen in the first quarter."

"Screaming…what?" Father looked out, confused as his eyes scanned the skies.

He heard it before he saw it, and when he did see it, his eyes widened as he recognized the screaming blond brat zipping through his field of vision.

"That's not a…" he trailed off as he looked down, noticing a painfully familiar red cap floating through the crowd. He dug around in his pockets for his glasses, and brought them to his face as he squinted his eyes.

There, hundreds of feet below him, were Numbuhs Two and Five shifting through the crowd. Then, as if drawn to it by some strange force, Father glanced up to the commentator booth. His eyes widened as he made out the small figures of Numbuhs One and Three, the former pacing and ranting up a storm as the latter happily kicked her feet as she sat and watched the screens.

A fireball started growing again, and this time, he didn't stop it.

"You want to do something interesting, children?" he asked, voice thick with malice. "Well, maybe I can oblige after all."

Screw the EPA.

-/-/-/-/-

Transmission Interrupted