A/N: Just to avoid further confusion, Numbuh 80 does exists and is not an OC. He appears in SCIENCE for like, thirty seconds. It's kind of arrogant for me to assume everyone remembers every single minor character, so my bad for not make that clearer.

So, uh, yeah. Sorry about that!

Also while I'm thinking about it, Georgette is the [PENDING] name of Numbuh 10 in my fics now. So just ignore the whole "Stacey" stuff from previous fics if you're confused about that. I'll fix it. Eventually.

Resuming transmission and such...


Patton carefully walked around as the commotion died down. Once Numbuh 80 had finished his bit, things had seemingly settled. The boy made his way to sector L, whom were straightening themselves out after Georgette's little accident.

"You guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Numbuh 1-8-5-7, a low-key member of Ten's team, said as she rubbed her back. "This is why I prefer backstage; never thought I'd literally get mowed over by the boss."

Numbuh 12th Guard grunted as he messaged his neck. "I'll say."

Patton watched the group then looked over to where Georgette disappeared to with mild interest. "I think she went over to hound Numbuh 80."

"Figures," Numbuh 11.0 spoke up. The excitement had gotten to him, so he opted to sit down for a spell. "Numbuh 10 can't stand Numbuh 80."

"Why?"

"You saw how he is and you know how the boss is," Numbuh 9-Film said as he adjusted his cap. "Not that big of a mystery, Sherlock."

Patton frowned. "Watch your tone, kid."

"No offense, sir, but I work under Numbuh 10. You don't scare me," 9-Film casually said. "Speaking of the boss, I feel like she's about to rope us into something ridiculously stupid."

"What makes you say that?"

"Listen up, team." Patton and sector L turned to see Georgette had returned, looking confident and ready to go to war. Numbuh Jebediah was there too, looking the exact opposite. "Vacation's over. We're about to put in some work and help sector A make a crud ton of lemonade!"

Patton rose a brow and looked over to 9-Film whom simply shrugged. "It's sixth sense or something."

"But Numbuh 10," Numbuh 11.0 bemoaned, "We've been working since we got here."

"Then consider this overtime," she said as she shook her fist. "We're gonna break records and put that straw hatted charlatan in his place."

Patton scooted closer to Jebediah and tapped his shoulder. "Mind filling us in?"

"Seems like Numbuh 10's instigated some friendly competition with Numbuh 80. Though the more I think on it, perhaps 'friendly' isn't the right word," Jebediah explained, finishing with a tired sigh. "She's challenged him to a lemonade off and dragged my team into the thick of it."

Georgette came up to Jebediah opposite of Patton and straightened his posture. "Slouching is unbecoming of a future winner, Jebediah. Besides, I told you my team and I are going to support you 100%."

9-Film wearily looked towards 12th Guard. "Why do I get the feeling we're going to be doing 100% of the supporting?"

"That's no way to talk, Numbuh 9-Film. We need to be there for our fellow kids-in-arms," Georgette said before turning to her companion. "Right, Numbuh Jebediah?"

"I'm really starting to regret inviting you here every year."

"By the end of the day you'll be begging us to come back," Georgette waved off before pushing him away. "Now you go tell your team the good news while I make sure mine is ready to go."

Jebediah grumbled. "Guess I should be grateful we actually have help this year…"

"That's the spirit!" Georgette cheered before turning back to her team. "Okay guys, time to put your game-faces on."

Numbuh 1-8-5-7 groaned. "Are we really doing this?"

"Yes we're really doing this!" Georgette snapped. "Now if we're done whining, we've got to get to work. Numbuhs 11.0 and 1-8-5-7, you two go help sector A finish set up their stand. Numbuh 12th Guard, go to the SCAMPER and get all the 2x4 tools you can carry. Numbuh 9-Film, find me some overalls and cute work boots. I'm thinking I want to get a good country sort of style going on, but not too southern belle if you catch my drift-"

Patton suddenly stepped up with an easy-going sort of smile as he gently tapped Georgette on the shoulder. "Think I'm gonna have to stop you right there."

"Patton," Georgette sweetly cooed as she took his hand and pet it in her grasp. "I know we normally have this back-and-forth rapport going on, but I'm afraid I'm a bit busy focusing my energy on making that insignificant spec rue the day he messed with me. So how about you take a rain check, kay?"

"Oh, that'd be swell!" he answered with equal syrupy sweetness. "But as muuuuuch as I'd like to just kick back while you crash and burn, I think I'll actually feel bad if I don't give you a little advice."

"Really now? And what advice would that be?"

"Come on, Georgy, you're not that dense," Patton smirked as he slid his hand from her hold. "Just repeat back those last couple of lines to yourself."

Georgette frowned. "What, about making that insignificant spec rue the-"

"No," he said, smirk more subdued. "Before that."

"The southern belle thing? You actually think I can pull that off?"

"Before that."

"Getting tools from the SCAMPER-oh," Georgette ahhed and Patton let relief wash over him. However, his eye twitched when she huffed. "I don't get it. I forgot how much you love these stupid mind games."

"And I forgot who I'm dealing with," Patton mumbled before breathing in through his nose. "Okay, Georgette, think for a second. You're helping sector A, right? Sector A who happens to be Amish, right?"

"Congrats, Patton," Georgette slowly clapped, "you can pay attention."

"For the love of-YOU CAN'T USE YOUR TOOLS, DOO-DOO BRAIN!" Patton roared, blowing Georgette's red locks back and spooking any cadets within a twenty-yard radius. "They're Amish! You can't use 2x4 tech to help them because they're AMISH!"

Georgette looked unimpressed, waited for him to finish, and flicked his nose.

Patton yelped and began rubbing at his face while Georgette hummed to herself. "Darn it, that's right. Maybe I didn't think this through all the way."

"At least you saved me the trouble of saying it," Patton mumbled. Deciding his poor nose had taken enough punishment for one day, the drill commander began stomping away as he was prone to do. "Have fun figuring the rest out. I've got things to do, like not be here."

Georgette broke from her train of thought once she realized he was leaving. "Hold on, you're not helping?"

"Sounds about right," he said over his shoulder. "Last I checked, I'm not a part of your little circus act."

"Patton, wait!" she said, quickly shortening the distance between them and grabbing his arm. "You can't just leave me like this. That loser's already gotten a head start and I need to beat him!"

The boy arched a brow. "And to do that, you need me?"

"See, that wording assumes a lot about my dependency on you," she said hesitantly before quickly adding, "Which is nonexistent, just to set the record straight."

"In that case, you should be fine."

"Don't make me say the P word," she groaned. After a brief silent, she gasped and jerked her hands away. "You want me to say the P word, don't you!?"

He shrugged. "It'd be a start."

"I can't believe you," she huffed as she turned her back to him. "Fine then. Go. Do me a favor and try not to cry when you see my special on sector A's victory tonight and realize you could've been part of the greatness unfolding here."

Patton gave her a mock salute. "I'll be sure to tune in."

With that, he began heading down the hill, leaving Georgette smirking with her eyes closed. She had played this little game a buhmillion times before. Just play a little hard to get, wait for them break, and watch as they came crawling back. Because they always came crawling back.

It was only a matter of time.

It took all of four seconds before she was running after him again.

For that was how long it took for her to remember this was Patton she was dealing with.


"Alright, team," Georgette said seriously as she addressed the children before her. After a few minor setbacks, the leader of sector L had swapped out of her reporter attire for clothes more suitable for the hard labor she was about to put her team through.

She paced back and forth, her giant, floppy sunhat casting a shadow around her before she sharply turned to her sector. "This is where we separate the frauds from the stars. It's time to buckle down and show that lame brain who the real lemonade makers are. Any questions before we begin?"

Numbuh 11.0 raised his hand.

"Yes, you in the front."

"Can I go back to counting how many people are in line instead?"

"You're going to be counting the number of days left in your two weeks' notice if you don't start taking this seriously."

"But boss," 9-Film spoke up, "we don't know the first thing about making lemonade from scratch."

"Pffft, don't give me that excuse," she said as she crossed her arms. "It's one of the easiest things in the world."

9-Film was not convinced. "Then how 'bout you give us some instructions, boss?"

Georgette faltered a bit before loudly laughing. "Ah, I think I better let sector A handle this. They can simplify it for you. Jebediah?"

Despite still not knowing if this was a good idea, Numbuh Jebediah shook it off and folded up his sleeves. "Ain't really nothing to making lemonade, just need to be willing to put in work. First thing we need is to make sure the lemons are scrubbed."

Georgette snapped her fingers. "12th Guard, 1-8-5-7, get to scrubbing!"

"Once we got enough of them cleaned," Jebediah continued as he moved to a separate table next to Rebecca and took out a knife. "We gotta cut 'em. Be sure to do it lengthwise, and as thinly as possible."

Georgette looked at 9-Film and 11.0. "You heard him!"

Jebediah turned the two over to Rebecca as he went to attend to the batch currently in process. 9-Film looked over the knife before shrugging and getting to work. 11.0 was having a bit more trouble, having issues cutting his knife into his lemon.

Rebecca noticed this and went over to him. "Be careful, Numbuh 11.0."

"No worries, Rebecca," Numbuh 11.0 said as he sawed into the lemon. "I may not look like it, but I help my mom do this sort of thing all the-AHH!" He screamed as a bit of juice squirted into his eye. "IT BURNS!"

Jebediah rolled his eyes. "Numbuh Ezekiel, would ya help the fella out?"

Georgette watched as the kids slowly got to work. Her eyes wandered over to the other member of her team simply sitting off to the side in a lawn-chair. "Would it kill you to be productive?"

"I'll get to that once I figure out how I let you talk me into this," Patton said. The commander had decided to man the sales counter, his presence deterring the more rowdy customers. He lazily flipped through a pamphlet he acquired from one of the booths, and would look up into the distance every so often. "But I did decide to scope out the competition. Better than having to listen to you yell at your team for another fifteen minutes."

"That is…actually not a bad idea," Georgette reluctantly admitted as she made her away behind him. She rose the brim of her sunhat, looking across the field with a sneer as Numbuh 80 sent away another happy customer. "Anything juicy? Is he playing dirty? Doing something worth blackmailing him over?"

"Nope," Patton drawled out as he turned another page. "But if he starts kicking puppies, you'll be the first to know."

Georgette grumbled, folding her arms across Patton's head and drumming her fingers impatiently against his beanie. The boy paused briefly but simply grunted and ignored how he had become a makeshift table. "No, he wouldn't risk sleazing this up. He's going to make me work for this, the jerk."

Patton rolled his eyes. "For starters, you would actually have to be working to-HOLY CRUD!"

"What?" Georgette shot forward, grinning ear to ear as she scanned for 80's slip-up. "What'd he do!?"

"HE JUST MADE A CUP LEMONADE!"

"Would you cut it out!?" Georgette snarled as she bopped Patton upside the head, the boy only taking it in stride and continuing to laugh. "You're more of a slacker than a sentry!"

Patton calmed his chuckles before speaking again. "I'm just reporting what I see."

"Ugh!" Georgette cried as she pouted. "How the heck I'm supposed to win this stupid contest with you goofing off?"

"You could start by actually helping make the lemonade."

Georgette threw her head back and let out a long whine.

"Okay, okay," Patton said as he rose. "If I did it with you, would you quit the complaining?"

"It's not complaining, it's constructive criticism," she said as her cheeks puffed. "But I'll play along. Only if you do your fair share, though!"

"I swear," Patton began as he tucked away his pamphlet, "I'll make sure I-SWEET RAINBOW MONKEY MARY!"

"What!?"

"HE MADE ANOTHER CUP!"

"PATTON!"


Some time had passed, the morning sun rising a bit higher in the sky over the Lemonade Luncheon. All booths and attractions had been closed, the owners and organizers taking breaks to actually drink some lemonade. It was normally a long, boring affair, but this year proved to be breaking that trend.

With two lemonade venues, activity seemed much more lively.

Despite a few hiccups and splutters, Numbuh 80's Lemonade Machine was making decent progress. Having been granted his own stock of lemons, the eager sales-kid circled his prized invention around the clock to pump out a constant stream of sweet, juicy, lemonade.

The sector A camp was also faring well. With the additional helping hands, the Amish Kids Next Door found themselves working into a comfortable groove. The pressure was tremendously lessened on their end, and they quite enjoyed the more easy-going pace.

They would've enjoyed it even more if Numbuh 10 wasn't constantly badgering everyone, but hey, life wasn't perfect.

Speaking of Numbuh 10, Georgette buzzed around the area, checking in with every station and earning her reputation as a constant taskmaster.

"Quality check!" Georgette said as she sprang up out of nowhere. Sector L groaned, and reluctantly lined up in a row and held out cups of lemonade.

Starting from 9-Film, she took a sip and spit it out. "Too much salt."

She moved down to 12th Guard.

"Eck! Too sour."

1-8-5-7.

"Way too sweet," she said after smacking her lips. The three walked off, 12th Guard and 1-8-5-7 grumbling while 9-Film nonchalantly chucked his lemonade off somewhere. Georgette faced a smiling Numbuh 11.0, about to take his glass when she paused and blink. "Numbuh 11.0, what's this?"

The boy blinked back, confused. "It's lemonade."

Georgette rose a brow. "Why is it pink?"

Numbuh 11.0 looked to his glass, the pink liquid shimmering in the sun, then looked back to his leader. "Haven't you ever heard of pink lemonade, ma'am?"

"Yes," Georgette said slowly. "But we don't have the ingredients for pink lemonade. How on Earth did you make this?"

Numbuh 11.0 beamed. "The secret ingredient is love."

"That's precious," Georgette fawned, folding her hands against her cheek. She then reached forward to take the glass. "I'll just take this," emptied the contents on the ground, "pour it out," and handed the cup back to a crushed Numbuh 11.0 "and give you back this glass so you can make lemonade that's not pink."

Numbuh 11.0 stared into his empty glass as he walked away with a sniffle.

Georgette nodded to herself as Patton came up from the rear. He watched 11.0 walk off and followed him with his eyes, appearing a tad concerned. "Was that necessary?"

"It's called tough love," Georgette responded as she picked at her nails. "I know he can do better. Kid's a well of potential, but the guys have gotta stop coddling him."

"I guess I can understand that," Patton said, unsure as he continued to watch the boy. "But geez, Georgette, I think he's about to cry."

"This isn't a game, Patton. It's war. You can't make lemonade without breaking a few eggs," she said with a confident nod. "Speaking of which, give me your lemonade. Surprise quality check."

"See, I'd hand it over had I not already gave it to that kid there," Patton said as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing towards an operative walking away drinking a cool glass of juice. "And I don't think you're gonna want it back once he's done with it."

"How could you!?" Georgette screamed, scandalized and debating going over and knocking the cup from the kid's hand. "T-That wasn't quality assured! We need to make sure we serve the best gosh-darned lemonade possible!"

"The lemonade is fine, Georgette," Patton tried to assure when it appeared the redhead was about to pop a gasket. "And not to say quality isn't important, but shouldn't quantity get a bit more priority given the terms of the contest?"

"Why should I have to compromise when you people are perfectly capable of giving me both?" Georgette responded. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Numbuh 80 walking towards one of the outhouses nearby.

Smirking deviously, Georgette swiped up a nearby glass of lemonade and Patton watched, off-put, as she took long, exaggerated sips.

"Mmm-MMM! Why, Patton, this has got to be the bestest lemonade ever!" she said, raising her voice and inwardly dancing with glee when 80 stopped and looked her way. "People are gonna be lining up for MILES to take a swig of this. Sure would hate to be the competition right now!"

Numbuh 80 stared at her before cupping a hand around his ear. "I'm sorry, what?"

Georgette frowned. "I said that-"

"What?"

"I SAID THAT-"

"Sorry, Georgy. I can't hear you over the sound of my fortieth glass being sold," 80 finished smugly. He then yelped and ducked into the outhouse, slamming the door shut just as a glass of lemonade crashed against it.

Georgette looked absolutely livid as her fists clenched and arms went rigid at her sides. Someone tapped her shoulder and she reeled, all but screaming, "WHAT!?"

"Do you want to try this cup, ma'am?" Numbuh 11.0 meekly said, and Georgette winced at his wet cheeks and blubbering expression. "The secret ingredient this time is my sadness."

Georgette gingerly took the cup, noting at least it wasn't pink this time as she took a gauging sip. She swallowed, frowned, and said, "Too-"

"Ahem."

Her eyes flickered over to Patton, whom had his arms crossed and gave her a look that warned of consequence if she didn't choose her next words wisely.

She forced a smile as she handed the glass back to Numbuh 11.0 and said, "-perfect. You're doing a good job, Numbuh 11.0."

The boy's despair faded away instantly at her words. "Gee, thanks, ma'am!"

"No problem," Georgette said sweetly, waiting until he was out of earshot before glaring daggers at a smirking Patton. "Happy?"

"Just doing you a favor," he chuckled as he bent over slightly to get face level. "Gotta keep morale up if you wanna win this thing."

Georgette sneered at his smug grin. After a moment, a small little grin of her own blossomed. Before Patton could question this, the redhead swiftly brought up her hand, flicked his nose, and turned with a flourish before strutting back over to the stand, leaving a flustered and grumbling Patton in her wake.


"Alright, Numbuh 1-8-5-7," Georgette said as she shooed away another served customer. "Status report."

"We made good progress this last hour. Numbuh 60 got that last batch of lemons scrubbed in record time, and Numbuh 12th Guard balanced out our salt distribution," the girl went on as she flipped through her notebook. "Plus with that last kid, we're up to three hundred and twenty-two cups."

"Music to my ears," Georgette practically sang. "And our so very un-loveable competition? He must be wetting his pants trying to catch up."

Numbuh 1-8-5-7 quietly coughed and averted her eyes.

Georgette slowly narrowed her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

1-8-5-7 sighed before bracing herself. "Last count showed Numbuh 80 to be up to three hundred and twenty-six cups."

"Give me that!" Georgette snapped as she swiped the notebook. Her eyes went over the numbers and found her nails digging into the paper the longer the list went on. "I can't believe this. It's like no matter what we do, we just keep lagging behind that loser!"

"Charts don't lie, ma'am."

"We need to work faster, where's sector A? This is their luncheon, why aren't they making more?"

"They went to get lunch."

"What's 11.0 doing?"

"Getting more water."

"9-Film?"

"Not caring."

"Do I even want to know what Patton is doing?"

"Went to the bathroom, I think."

"That's just peachy," Georgette muttered before slumping against the counter. Her eyes wandered towards her wrist-watch and found her patience thinning. It was almost noon and they were still only almost winning. "As if this day could get any worse."

"Why hello, my dear. Might I trouble you for some lemonade?"

"Why certainly you-YOU!" Georgette raged as Numbuh 80 winked. "What are you doing over here?"

"I just couldn't help but notice how much you were struggling. Must be unbearable being so close to victory yet seeing it slip through those polished fingers of yours," he said smoothly as he tapped his cane against the hard-wood. "So being the swell, sportsmanly like kinda guy I am, I thought I'd be the bigger kid and help you out by buying a cup from your camp. Heck, make it two!"

"We reserve the right to refuse service to jerkwads," Georgette spat. "So take a hike, I don't need your charity."

"Don't say I never tried, Georgy," Numbuh 80 as he leaned away from the stand to face Numbuh 1-8-5-7. "Sorry, Numbuh 1-8-5-7, but I'm gonna have to cut this social visit short. Count is up to three hundred and thirty-two."

The girl nodded. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Hold it!" Georgette called out as she swung her arms out. She reeled on 1-8-5-7, whom flinched upon realizing her mistake. "You've been talking to him!?"

"How else am I supposed to know how many cups he's sold?"

"Get a hold of yourself, Georgette," Numbuh 80 said, holding his cane between the two girls trying to defuse the situation. "Our differences aside, I am allowed to talk to my friends."

Georgette slapped his cane out of his hand. "I'll show you differences you-wait, friends?" She suddenly turned to the rest of sector L as they walked up. They had ventured over to see what the fuss was, but upon seeing their leader's glower, suddenly they wished they hadn't been so curious. "You all have been talking to him?"

Numbuh 12th Guard scratched at his neck as he looked down. "Yeah…"

Numbuh 11.0 squirmed under her gaze as he fingered his collar. "Kind of?"

Numbuh 9-Film shrugged. "Totally."

"H-How could you," she whispered. "I fired that clown!"

"Yes, you did," Numbuh 80 said as he got her attention again. "But it wasn't like it was a vote. Just because you didn't like me, Georgette, doesn't mean everyone else thought the same way."

"Only because they never saw what I saw," she shot back. "Underneath that tacky suit, stupid straw hat, and fake smile you're just a conceited, arrogant, showboat!"

"Nice to meet you, Pot. Name's Kettle," Numbuh 80 said with a tip of his hat. "How about we drop this charade and get at what's really eating you, Numbuh 10. The real reason you nixed me is because I had the real creative talent and you could never cope with the fact the team liked me better than you."

Sector L wisely gave the two a wide-berth as Georgette began growling. The day had been grating on her psyche long before Numbuh 80 showed his lousy face, and this was just pushing it. Her eyes bored into him, willing holes to appear in his head. A glint of light flashed before her eyes and she quickly looked over to the pitcher of lemonade on the counter.

As she noted 80's close vicinity to the counter, she slowly smiled.

"You know what, Numbuh 80? I've changed my mind," she said calmly, moving over to the counter without watching her footing. "You want some lemonade? Then let me top you off - AH!"

All around winced as Georgette tripped over 80's discarded cane. Her arms flailed as she went tumbling down, crashing against the counter. The tremor caused the pitcher to tip over, spilling its contents on the already downed redhead.

The air went deathly cold as sector L and Numbuh 80 watched the girl get drenched in lemonade. The stream seemed to spill out endlessly, and after what seemed like an eternity, it stopped only when Georgette was covered head to toe in the sticky juice.

"On that note," Numbuh 80 hesitantly said as he awkwardly scooped up his cane. "I think I shall take my leave. Good day."

Sector L watched as the boy ran off, then looked to see their soggy leader rising from the ground. Georgette was dripping with lemonade, her large sunhat all wet, droopy, and the brim concealing her face.

With a gulp, Numbuh 11.0 bravely stepped forth and slowly peeled back the brim of her sunhat. "Ma'am?" he questioned as he was greeted with her emotionless stare. "Want me to get you a towel?"

"No thank you, Numbuh 11.0, but your concern is duly noted," she responded, her voice neutral and bland.

"Are you mad?"

"Enraged, actually," her even response made him shiver, "but I'm Numbuh 10. Cool. Calm. Collected. And totally not considering doing something that would get me dishonorably decommissioned."

"Ah, that's a relief," Numbuh 11.0 laughed, thinking the storm had passed. "For a minute there, I thought you'd be super upset."

"Of course I'm upset," Georgette hissed, her face crinkling with anger as the boy backed away. "And when I win this lemonade-off, Numbuh 80 is going to wish he was never born."

Thankful she wasn't directing her anger at them -at least not yet- Numbuh 1-8-5-7 risked saying, "But, uh, ma'am? He's got a clear lead on us and we got less than twenty minutes before noon. I'm not sure we can catch up."

Georgette was quiet as she stared off into the distance, her eyes locking onto Numbuh 80's Crazy Lemonade Machine. As she stared at the infernal contraption, an idea formed as her lips curled into a wicked smile. "Numbuh 9-Film, did you get that can of bug spray I asked for?"

"You mean that thing you told me to do hours ago?" he mumbled as he reached into his back-pocket and passed her the can. "No, I totally forgot about that."

The redhead let his snide remark slide as she placed the can on the counter. "12th Guard, get me the biggest lemon you can find."

"Numbuh 10?" Numbuh 11.0 questioned as 12th Guard complied with her request. He watched as his leader threw away her soaked hat and undid her hair bow. Her drenched her rained down freely as she used her bow to tie the lemon and bug spray together. Numbuh 11.0 was having a hard time following her logic, and became more stumped as she ripped off her watch. "What are you doing?"

Georgette was oblivious to the world as she clasped her watch to the lemon. "Numbuh 11.0, you still have the mic?"

He nodded before passing her the microphone, keenly curious to see where this was going.

"Perfect," she said. She then did the unthinkable and snapped the mic in half, using her nails to rip out the exposed wires and ignoring the sparks of static.

"Wait a minute," Numbuh 1-8-5-7 said, narrowing her eyes as she watched Georgette splice the wires into the lemon, dialed back the watch, shake-up the bug-spray, and worked 2x4 wizardry she didn't think possible of one so beautiful and spoiled. "Is that a…LEMONADE bomb?"

Georgette leaned against the stand, tossing her homemade lemon grenade up and down while her eyes followed it almost hypnotically. "This'll do nicely."

"What are you going to do with that!?"

"What's a luncheon without fireworks?" Georgette chuckled before walking off. "I'll be right back."

Sector L just watched stunned as Georgette went off. Off in the direction of Numbuh 80's machine they quickly surmised. Numbuh 9-Film let out a long whistle before saying, "The boss has officially flipped her lid."

"I'm surprised she didn't make one of us do it," 1-8-5-7 said. "Must really mean business if she's willing to get her hands dirty."

From behind, Patton trudged back up the hill, shaking bits of toilet paper from his boots along the way. He dusted off his hands, rolled up his sleeves, picked up a lemon, and prepared to get back to it. Upon noticing sector A's continued absence and sector L just standing there, he paused mid-scrub and made his way over to the four.

"What's with all the standing around?" he asked as he approached them. "I miss something?"

"Nah, nothing much. Our boss has just completely lost it, is all," Numbuh 9-Film calmly answered. "Pretty standard for a Tuesday, now that I think about it."

Patton's eyes widened a bit as he noted a certain redhead missing. "Where'd Georgette get off to now?"

"She's gone to blow up Numbuh 80."

Patton's mouth parted slightly. "Gone to…blow up Numbuh 80?"

"That, or his machine," 11.0 amended. "We're not sure."

"…and you all just let her go, just like that?"

"Dude, we watched her jury-rig a bomb right in front of us," Numbuh 1-8-5-7 said. "For a second, I thought she was gonna blow us up."

Patton blinked once. Twice. Then a third time before slowly closing his eyes completely and palmed his face. "I can't believe I let this happen."

Numbuh 12th Guard smiled. "I can't believe you're thinking you could've stopped it."

"I am stopping it." Patton said firmly as he marched off after Georgette. "You guys hold down the fort while I smack some sense into your leader. This has gone on long enough."

Sector L watched the Arctic Commander left them, finding themselves once again alone in the field.

Numbuh 9-Film smirked, looked down to Numbuh 1-8-5-7 and said, "Five Yipper cards says she blows them both up."

"You're on."

transmission interrupted