Disclaimer: I don't own Codename; Kids Next Door!
Title: Five Minutes:
Summary: Fourteen year old Decommissioning officer and game guru Fanny Fulbright has been on a mission to locate the scientists who cried Splinter Cell and ultimately ruined Numbuh 362's good name. When a lead comes to her on a silver platter, she risks everything in a desperate gamble to matter again, and bites off more than she can chew.
Chapter Title: Fer a Boy
Warnings: Cursing, but only once.
...
The taste of sweat is a familiar one as Fanny wipes her mouth quickly, returning her hands to the controls. She doesn't know if she's excited or terrified. The sun glares in her eyes, making it hard to deftly weave around the dunes, but she makes do.
She flips a switch on the side. "Birdie Five, take yer men and go around!"
Birdie Five salutes and herds them away, deaf and blind to their reaction. Birdie Three squawks unpleasantly in her ears.
"Ma'am! He's tapped into our communications system!"
"I noticed. I don't really care." She barked. "I want radio silence from now on, though." Fanny flips all of her com switches off, lowers her visor, and aims a blast at the ground in front of the getaway vehicle. It dodges with precision, forcing her to bite down on her lip and make the D.O.H.-D.O.H. jump to avoid the flames. The sudden flight has it bleeding when she touches sand.
Fanny eyes the little vehicle like a cat eyes a particularly complicated mouse. It's circular in design, and the entire outside is its' wheel, which tells her there's a little pocket in the center where the scientists are hiding. She doubts there's more than two inside. Its' silver color sends the sun into her face, but she'll go blind before she turns away.
Birdie Two and Birdie Three fire next, simultaneously craning their weapons towards the center. She doesn't know how, but there isn't a scratch on the stupid thing when they stop.
"Son of a bitch." She says, and hopes to Zero the idjit heard her.
She'd been nine, when her father pulled her aside and listed off all the curse words known to the average white American. She'd just gotten in a fight the other day, and had bitterly screamed, "Rainbow Monkey toes!"
"Fanny, honey." He'd said, gently taking her by the arm. "If you're going to scream obscenities, you're going to scream real ones. Just don't say them around your brothers."
Bless the man. Fanny couldn't count the member of times slipping into adult-speak had unnerved operatives during a questioning. This is really no time to be reminiscing.
Birdies Five through Eight appeared on the horizon, charging side-by-side. The sphere began to switch directions to go around them. Good. She wanted them to take a detour.
Birdie Two, flanking her left side, takes to the air and boldly lands on top of the sphere, balancing with rapid flicks of the controls. For a second it swirls helplessly under their D.O.H.-D.O.H.'s clawed feet, but then a sudden jerk knocks him off, landing the machine on its' back a few yards behind. The sphere pelts into the distance, followed by the second team.
A D.O.H.-D.O.H. on its' back is like a turtle on his shell, and Fanny doesn't really have time for it. She zoomed past, watching from a rearview mirror as Birdie Two hops onto Birdie Three's vessel, the second having slowed down to collect the boy.
Fanny isn't totally aware of which Birdie is which on the other team- it's been two days since they've seen each other, and their only communication was a warning when Birdie Eight spotted the sphere- but she knows she'll have to report favorably on the brave soul who slammed down on the sphere in order to stall, then leapt to the side to keep pace next to it, putting their lives between enemy and the fire of friends, ramming on occasion to try and knock it off its' stride. At any second he could've failed, throwing him into a possibly deadly crash, but he never hesitated for a second. Decent job, for a boy.
Unfortunately, the sphere opens up a tiny compartment, displaying a missile launcher. The D.O.H.-D.O.H. explodes into tiny pieces, but not before the operative presses the escape button. Shaken, but most likely unharmed.
"What the fu-"
Fanny has only precious seconds to reassert her balance as something bodily rams into her, cutting her off mid-screech. If it had been the sphere it might've cut her off at the knee, but nay- it's one of her own men; Birdie Four, who had been quietly pacing behind.
For a brief, painful second, she honestly wonders if he's betrayed her. If he had, she'd leave him out in the Sahara with nothing but that crashed D.O.H.-D.O.H., unapologetic and unrepentant, but then something clatters onto the hood of her buggy.
A hand-held grappling hook.
She deliberately hangs back a bit to let him take over, thinking, this had better work, or you'll have wished it did. One by one Birdie Four bumps and throws, opening his body up to midday heat and thirst. Fanny admires the craftsmanship of the hook as she balances it on her buddy- they seem to be hand-made.
She slowly flicks up one of the switches, delight and satisfaction making her feel ready to take up a thousand chases by foot if she had to. "Birdie Five, if ya please."
"Understood." Birdie Five makes a signaling gesture with his hands, then shoots the D.O.H.-D.O.H. high in the air so it's like a small and rather sandy explosion when it lands before the sphere, which rapidly turns.
Fanny takes a sharp left, following close behind by her team. All of the machines, 2X4 and traitor, seemed to be heading for the same place.
An oasis.
Fanny goes around the side of the hill, rendering her unable to see the expert way they led the vehicle closer. Birdie Four settles in beside her, while Birdie Two and Three take the other, leaving a wide berth.
There's no time to brace herself. Fanny plucks open the top of her cabin, feeling the heat sear her skin. She elegantly leaps onto the neck, snatching the grapple hook on her way. Her hair feels frizzier than normal.
The sun is behind her now.
There's a loud crunching noise as the sphere crushes foliage, attempting to leap over the water and let the D.O.H.-D.O.H.s sink. Birdie Three fires, expertly wrapping around the circle and latching on. He quickly clips the machine to the D.O.H.-D.O.H. and ducks inside. The joints growl as he begins to pull backwards.
Fanny and the others fire next, and she's relieved to feel cool air on her skin again as she ducks inside. They pull in silence, lifting the sphere out of the water- the splashing is alien after so long of only sand- and into the air, helpless.
Fanny flicks the switches on. "Anyone hurt?"
"Whoever is in that stupid hunk 'o junk will be." Birdie Six growls. Numbers are implemented next to each of the flippers, which is the only reason she knows who's-who. They light up when sound comes through. "They wrecked my D.O.H.-D.O.H.!"
"Hold your position, Numbuh 86." Birdie Five asks, and she sees the top of his vehicle open. "We're going in."
"Understood. Birdie Four?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Nice job. Ya did good, as far as boys are concerned."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"But if ya ever smack me like that again, yer dead, ya hear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you dissociating?"
"I think so, yes. Probably."
"Alright. Hold out jus' a little bit longer."
"I'll try, ma'am."
"Numbuh 86, you ever see anythin' like this?" Birdie Seven kicks the side of the metal sphere. "It's not anything I've ever seen any operative build."
"It is pretty advanced. What's it made outta?"
"That's the thing; I can't tell. It's got the shine of aluminum, of all things, but that can't be it."
"D'ya see a door? Maybe a hatch?"
"No, but we'll make one."
Fanny puts her seat back. Remembering how thirsty she is, she opens up a water bottle and downs one-fourth of it in one go.
"Ma'am? It's not opening."
"Can ya scalp it fer weapons?" She examines the darkening skyline.
"Already have, ma'am."
"Then leave it. My boys and I'll take a crack. You can man the D.O.H.-D.O.H.s."
"Can't we rest first?" Birdie Two whines. "It's been a long day, and we all need rest."
"Only if ya wanna risk losing the first lead we've had in over three years." She slips her helmet, discarded from the jostling, back on. "We're going in. Make sure ta' dress appropriately."
Author's Note: Part one of probably three! What does everybody think so far?
-Mandaree1