Chapter 3
Later that same afternoon, the five members of G-Force received a silent signal on their communicators. They quickly and quietly excused themselves from class, returning to Galaxy Security Headquarters to speak with Chief Anderson.
"Team, it appears that we have had a breach of security." the Chief informed them.
"What kind of breach?" Princess asked. She and Keyop were obviously concerned by this news. However Mark, Jason and Tiny appeared not to have heard what Chief Anderson had said, although they were glancing nervously at Princess.
"One of our janitorial staff is suspected of passing confidential information to Spectra." Anderson explained.
"What?" asked Mark, suddenly paying attention to the Chief's words. This was not turning out to be a good day for the Commander.
"We think that he might have told them that you all wear numbered t-shirts." Anderson continued. "However, we're pretty sure that he did not know which numbers you wear, or what they represent."
"So, are you going to take the numbers off of our uniforms, then?" questioned Jason.
"No." the Chief replied. "You must have your numbers on your shirts, in order for the transmutation process to work correctly."
"So, we just have to keep wearing them, like sitting ducks?" Tiny asked disgustedly.
"Not exactly." answered Anderson. "We have altered them slightly, to help you blend in more with the other kids at your schools."
The Chief pressed a call button, and a white-coated scientist entered the room, bearing five garment bags.
"These are your new t-shirts." Anderson explained, as he distributed the bags. "For the next few days, you will wear these instead of your usual uniforms."
The five G-Force members eagerly tore open the bags, anxious to see their new clothing. It wasn't every day that they got to wear something different from their usual clothes. What had seemed like fun outfits at first had quickly gotten old, with the monotony of wearing them every day.
Mark unveiled his new garment, and began to laugh.
"At least, as far as Spectra is concerned, this is accurate!" he joked.
The G-Force Commander turned his shirt around, to display it. It was nearly identical to the shirt he was currently wearing, except that instead of a plain number 1, it now proudly stated, 'We're #1'.
Jason grinned, and eagerly pulled forth his shirt, which read, 'Born 2 Be Wild'
"Cool!" he exclaimed.
Princess was mildly amused by her '3's a Crowd' shirt, and Keyop burbled happily at his 'Too Hot 4 You to Handle' slogan.
Seeing the smiling faces around him, Tiny eagerly pulled out his new uniform.
"'Jackson 5'?" he asked sadly, disappointment written all over his face. "I don't even like that group!"
"We couldn't think of anything else to go with the number 5." Chief Anderson explained apologetically.
"What about… 'High 5'?" Tiny asked hopefully.
"That was considered," Anderson admitted, "but we felt that it implied that you were referring to drugs. As a member of G-Force, it cannot even be hinted that you would condone…"
"But… this is my civvies shirt!" Tiny interrupted. "No one knows I'm a member of G-force, when I wear this!"
"Nevertheless, your shirt will remain as it is, Tiny." the Chief insisted.
Tiny scowled as the rest of the team giggled at the expression on his face.
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"Hey, Tiny, I didn't know that you liked the Jackson 5!" someone called, as the G-Force pilot made his way down the halls of Federation High the following day. Tiny hunched over, to hide his chest, and tried to squeeze his bulk as far as possible down into his shoes.
"Uh, yeah…" he mumbled, red-faced.
"A, B, C!" someone else sang, "As easy as 1, 2, 3!"
"Who's your favorite, Tiny?" a football player teased.
"I'll bet it's Tito!" yelled his friend. "Tito and Tiny!"
"Tito and Tiny, sitting in a tree…" chanted a freshman.
A freshman! It was too much! Tiny ran quickly down the hall as fast as his chubby legs could carry him.
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"What's wrong with Tiny?" Princess asked, concerned, as her teammate rushed by.
"Nothing." Jason replied dismissively, not really hearing her question.
"Listen, Princess," he said, "There's something I have to talk to you about…"
"What's that?" Princess asked.
"It's about the prom…" Jason began.
"Oh, I think I'll be wearing a red dress." Princess replied.
"What?" Jason was confused.
"A red dress." Princess repeated. "So you can get a corsage that goes with it. Or, maybe you could get a red bow tie and cummerbund for your tux, to match me. Or, maybe a vest. Now that I think about it, cummerbunds are so disco. Yes, a red paisley vest…"
Jason's face took on a panicked appearance. This was not going at all as he had intended. He saw his Commander glaring at him from across the hall, and opened his mouth to try again.
"So, Princess, are you looking forward to prom?" Brad Peterson asked, coming up behind the ebony-haired girl and snaking an arm around her waist. Princess turned around, to see him there.
"Oh, Brad, I wanted to tell you…" she said, "I can't go with you, after all."
"I'm going with Jason." she smiled, linking her arm through her teammate's.
"What?" cried Brad, outraged, "You said that you were going with me!"
"Actually, I said that I would think about it." Princess clarified. "And I did. But I decided to go with Jason, instead."
"But… I didn't actually expect you to turn me down!" begged Brad, oblivious to the fact that every pair of eyes in the crowded corridor was now riveted on him.
"I'm sorry, Brad," said Princess sympathetically, laying a soft hand on the Rugby Captain's arm, "but I never promised to go with you."
"But, Princess, Baby, I already booked the limo!" Brad protested. Princess just stood silently, shaking her head.
"I was going to get a red ruffled tux shirt, to match your dress!" Brad continued in desperation, "And I booked a hotel room…"
"You what?" Princess asked, outraged. She stood with her hands on her hips, her emerald eyes flashing.
"What kind of girl do you think I am?" she cried. "I think I made the right decision. I'm going to prom with Jason!"
"You ungrateful bitch!" Brad fumed. "Isn't he your brother? That's kind of sick, if you ask me!"
Jason had tried his best to stay out of the entire exchange, but at this point, he lost it.
"What's sick, is that you're such a sore loser, Brad." he growled menacingly, pulling Princess toward him in a proprietary manner.
"Now get your sorry ass out of here, before I have to pin it to your ugly face!" Jason threatened.
Something in Jason's eyes told Brad that he wasn't kidding, and the physics jock quickly departed, casting a dirty look at Jason.
"Oh, Jason!" Princess cried, grinning widely. "Thank you!"
She threw her arms around Jason's neck, hugging him closely and snuggling into his chest. Jason found himself embracing Princess' waist, as a rush of emotions he had never before associated with his teammate coursed through his body.
Those emotions disappeared the instant he raised his eyes, to find his Commander glaring bloody murder at him from the other side of the locker-lined corridor.
Fortunately, the bell rang, and Jason was saved from an immediate confrontation as he and Mark ran to different classes. Princess walked dreamily to her class, sighing contentedly as she passed by her Commander, causing Mark's scowl to deepen even further.
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"So, we're looking for kids in t-shirts, with numbers on them?" the man asked his companion.
"Yeah." mumbled Sergeant Keith. He was wearing a worn shirt with a lackluster tie, which looked as if it had seen better days. He blended in perfectly with the beleaguered Federation High faculty.
"Lady Mala said to separate out all of the kids with numbered shirts, and to investigate each one individually." Keith explained.
"So, why do I have to be the one to give the speech?" whined Private Roberts, who wore a similar ensemble.
"Because I outrank you, and I say so." smirked Keith. Roberts sighed.
"And to think," the Private grumbled, "I was excited to get out of that green uniform."
