Chapter 10

"Well, I don't know where Number 1 is at," Number 274 said disappointedly, "He was supposed to be here by now."

Chad Dickson, in his usual football armor and Samurai helmet stood at the head of the table in the situation room. Hoagie, Kuki and Abby were seated around the table in their usual positions and there was a new kid seated just to the right of Chad. It had been about fifteen minutes after Nigel was supposed to show up.

The new kid seated at the edge of the table didn't act like he wanted to be there. It was painfully obvious he was short for his age, this freshman with a scruffy looking "bowl" haircut; his bright blond hair was just long enough to be in his eyes. He was wearing a baggy, orange hoodie and worn out blue jeans. He certainly looked like the type of kid that might be kicked out military schools.

"The last time I saw him he was with Lizzie, so you know, that could take forever!" Abby said with a slight wink towards Hoagie who looked shocked that she would openly say that, even though they all joked about the short leash she kept Nigel on.

"Lizzie Devine?" Chad Dickson said, turning red.

"Uh…yeah!" Hoagie said getting out of his chair, "You didn't know that? I figured everyone knew that!" He started twirling around the room and rhyming poorly in a singsong voice. "Liz-zie and Nigh-gey, are forever togeth-y, and gossiped at length by face changer Lizzie! It's a match made in Heaven…Well… Maybe that's backwards, maybe a match made in…"

"Sit down Number 2," Nigel Uno said curtly as he walked into the room, "Team, I'm sorry for my lateness."

Hoagie slammed down in his chair, his face cherry red and in horrified shock although it was clearly evident that Nigel hadn't heard anything that was said.

Kuki piped up in her innocence, "Can Lizzie really change her face, Number 1?"

"What?" Nigel asked confused.

"Nothing," Chad said, his color returning to his clearly angered face, "I want you to meet the next teammate of Sector V, Wally Beatles or Number 4."

Nigel walked straight over and stuck his hand out, "It's a pleasure Number 4 to have you on board our team. I chose you to be a part of our Sector because Number 60 speaks highly of you and how you performed in training."

"Yeah," Wally Beatles said in a thick Australian accent, "I'll do my best here Number 1, thanks for getting me on the team."

Each of the team mates walked around and shook Wally's hand with the exception of Kuki who gave him a hug. The hug didn't go very well, Wally shrieked and started pushing on her yelling at her to get off and then started mumbling about "girls" under his breath.

"Well," Chad said, "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get the others because we need to have a quick meeting while we got everyone here."

He walked out of the room leaving Sector V to sit back down in their usual places.

"Patton tells us you're quite the fighter," Nigel said to Wally who just brushed his bangs out of his eyes in response.

"I guess you had impressed him," Nigel continued, hoping to get a response.

"Yeah," Wally finally answered, "That's what he told me."

"You broke your way out of Military schools?" Number 2 asked, "That's pretty cool!"

"Yeah I guess," Number 4 answered quietly, "You got to do what you got to do."

Chad Dickson walked back into the room with Herbert; designation Number 65.3, Fanny Fulbright; designation Number 86, Patton; designation Number 60, Rachel; designation Number 362 and a KCD Scientist that Nigel didn't know. He was short and had thick black hair, his face was hidden by a large, black, pair of "coke bottle" glasses and he was trying to read notes on his clipboard as he walked; Nigel thought his designation was Number 71.562, if memory served him. Gabe, designation Number 74.239, came shuffling in behind trying to straighten out his lab coat. His carrot colored hair was matted on his head messily and his smile showed his braced buck teeth prominently.

"Ok," Number 274 said, "Thank you KCD Command Officers and Science Officers for joining us. Thank you Sector V for joining us also, Gabe is going to lead this meeting on our approach to what we've been referring to as '2 x 4 Technology'."

"Greetings and salutations everyone," Gabe said with his head held high and his voice cracking slightly, "I am Number 74.239 and I am the Chief Officer over Research and Development for the KCD, along with my associate, Number 71.562, who is also here to answer any questions. We've realized over the course of the last major operation, and with the next mission right around the corner, that we need to determine a course for future KCD technology. I've been working closely with Number's 2 and Number 71.562 on this and I would like to present our latest invention. Lights please Number 86!"

Fanny got up and turned the lights off which pitched the room in total darkness.

"There seems to be a problem here," Number 74.239 stuttered in the darkness.

Suddenly, the projector hummed to life and lit the room up as it broadcasted a picture of the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. lit up the wall behind them.

"This is our latest development in transportation, KCD designation: S.C.A.M.P.E.R. designed by Number 2 of Sector V," Gabe said proudly.

Number 2, who had his elbow on the table propping his head up with his head, slowly spun around to face the senior officers with a smug and cool look on his face.

Chad rolled his eyes.

"Thanks to the blueprints that Number 2 has donated, the KCD R&D department is investing precious time in mass producing these vehicles for our blossoming Sectors around the globe. We will also be outfitting a few of these with heavy weapons, just in case. Lights Please Number 86."

Number 86 let out a groan and got up again to switch the lights back on.

"Which segues nicely into the next topic," Number 74.239 said, "We need to decide on a course of weaponry as I'm sure that it will be needed in the future."

Number 4 swiveled his chair around, eager to contribute, "Why is this even a question? There are plenty of great guns on the market; I've got several I'd be willing to donate! I'd have one on me now except I'm not old enough to carry it yet."

The room was silent.

It had never really been addressed what they would use for weaponry. Yet the tone in Gabe's voice made it clear that the question was being raised considering that there was a great amount of firearms discovered at Mr. Frosty's as well as the arms that were carried by the ice cream men.

"Well," Number 1 started, breaking the silence, "I've got nothing against firearms but I am concerned for how that might be viewed in the eyes of the public."

"Excuse me?" Chad said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Rachel said, her singsong voice melting the harsh tones that had been bouncing around the room, "That in the eyes of the public, we will be seen as taking the law into our own hands if we use firearms. We don't technically have the authority for what we are trying to do and using lethal force will compromise us even more. Besides that, I don't think anyone here is old enough to carry one legally, so that pretty much rules firearms out."

"I can," Patton said, "and I do; especially when I'm the Artic, but this is different. Rachel is right about losing credibility. We are not an army or an attack force, we are spies and we should react defensively. Our weapons need to reflect that so that there is no question as to our motives."

"Well," Gabe said, "I'm glad to hear it because I have already collaborated with Number 2 on some non-lethal, or rather less than lethal, options. Number 2 would you be so kind as to present us with the S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R.?"

Number 2 got up out of his chair and reached into a duffel bag that he had stashed under the table. What he retrieved was a large 2" x 4" board with two hand grips built into either end on the underside. On the end closest to him there was a horseshoe magnet on the top of the board with the magnetic ends point up. On the other end of the board was another 2" X 4" board. It was stretched outward and connected to the end of the first board by a folded hand saw. Number 2 reached out and grabbed the free swinging 2" X 4" and bent it back, using the saw as a hinge and forced it against the magnet and to every one's surprise, it held, despite the immense amount of tension that the saw seemed to be under.

"This ladies and gentlemen is the S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R., or Solid Pine Loaded Artillery Nicely Kicks Enemy Rear."

Chad rolled his eyes again.

"It works," Number 2 continued excitedly, "by snapping this board to the electromagnet here and that keeps it under tension from the saw hinge. When you pull the trigger at this grip the polarity reverses and releases the board at a speed of roughly four hundred feet per second. Number 74.239, if you please?"

Gabe walked over and pulled a pumpkin out of the duffel bag and set it up on a chair. He had a crazy look of joy on his face that was comparable only to the looks of horror on everyone else's face.

Number 2 walked over to the pumpkin and crouched down into a defensive position.

"So let's say you're walking around the corner and here is the ice cream man, and…."

Number 2 pulled the trigger and the board flew out with such energy that it was clear why there were two grips. The board hit the pumpkin with a sickening "thwack" and pumpkin pulp sprayed all over Number 74.239. The room was filled with gasps and Number 3 let out a blood curdling scream and seemed to hyperventilate.

"Well," Number 74.239 said with a smile, "I did clarify by saying less than lethal."

"I can, uh, probably swap out the saw for a longer variety and that will tone down the velocity on the additional models". Number 2 said with a forced laugh, "No problem."

"Well", Rachel said with a smile, "A fine start anyway, have you got any others?"

Number 2 nodded, "Yes, I have a mid-range weapon in mind that shoots ball bearings and a chemical weapon that Number 74.239 is trying to come up with the proper adhesive for."

"Yes," Gabe said, trying to wipe off the pulp, "That is if I can get Number 71.562 here to quit grandstanding and do his chemistry properly."

Number 71.562 peered at him through his goggle-like glasses and stuck his tongue out at him, "He said you were supposed to come up with the adhesive! Yeah, put it off on me!"

"Credit where credit is due!" sneered Gabe with a smile.

"Sounds like a REAL crisis, baby" Abby said with a giggle.

"Well", Chad started, clearly not amused, "I guess that pretty much wraps it up. In short, each operative will be issued a S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. and in time, the other weapons, is that right Number 74.239?"

Covered in orange goo, Gabe gave a hasty nod and Number 71.562 gave him a "thumbs up".

"This is what you get," Number 86 piped up, her thick Irish accent startling everyone, "When you put a bunch of stupid boys in charge! Why are you dumb boys constantly so violent? Number 74.239, you had better get a weapon system together that's not going to kill anyone. I don't even want to think about what that will put my department through if it happens."

Number 74.239 wasn't smiling anymore and instead stood at attention and saluted with a curt affirmation. Then, she looked at Number 2 who also stood at attention. Number 71.562 was hiding behind his clipboard.

"So you three get your act together," Number 86 continued, jabbing her finger into Number 74.239's face, "because if you get anyone killed, I'll bury you alive personally!"

She whipped her red wavy hair around as she turned and walked out with a smile and an intense look in her eye; winking at Sector V. Nigel took note that she didn't seem to get really worked up about anything other than whom she might be able to injure.

After she left, Sector V let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Anyway," Chad began again, "Number 362 is going to brief you all on the updates from the information that we pilfered from Mr. Frosty and where that is going to lead next."

Rachel walked over to where Number 74.239 had just previously exited, careful not to get pumpkin goo on her grey heels.

"Well," she said, obviously distracted by the mess that Number 74.239 was trying to clean, "Primarily, We've learned a great deal of information about the ice cream men and their exploits. I have spent countless hours already compiling the images from the recordings and it's clear that they are involved in some pretty illegal activity. It is also clear that these people are completely unaware that their personal lives are being documented. My department is working heavily in trying to identify some of the people in which the most surveillance was conducted, that will give us a lead.

Secondarily, we have learned that the ice cream men are actually employed by the local ice cream factory, the Tasty Taste Ice Cream Factory."

"That's news?" piped up Number 4.

"Yes," Rachel continued, unfazed, "Typically, ice cream trucks are privately owned, but it appears that this particular set of ice cream men is provided uniforms, trucks, obviously assigned routes, and who knows what else from inside the thick walls of the Tasty Taste Ice Cream Factory. I'm currently in the middle of trying to figure out who owns the ice cream factory, but it's hidden among a web of paperwork and bankruptcy forms.

Apparently, this ice cream factory is used just as much for criminal activity as it is for making the nasty ice cream that these creeps sell. The ice cream men meet there often in full force. Mr. Frosty's was nothing more than a way station, and probably one of many, but the factory is home base."

"I don't know if you are aware Number 362," Number 1 perked up, "But the last time I was in the area of Mr. Frosty's it has been completely remodeled and it looked as though there was a family living there."

Rachel's face lit up, "Ah! That didn't take them long to sweep all of that under the rug. I found a radio frequency chart hidden in some of the paperwork that you all turned in and I've been listening in on some of their chatter. It apparently switches automatically each week to keep the casual listener from getting too much information. They did mention the attack on Mr. Frosty's but they apparently are clueless as to what our full intentions are and dismissed us as druggies looking for drugs or money. I say that to make everyone aware that if they went to that length of clean up detail after our attack then after this next mission, they will most likely shut everything down, so we'll need to be thorough. We may only have one chance."

Rachel reached over and turned the projector on, flipping through the options until she got her computer's files on the network. Number 5 got up to turn the lights off.

"Now then," she continued, "Here is a satellite photo of the Tasty Taste Ice Cream Factory."

On the projector was a large factory with a massive rock wall built around the entire premise. Every few feet in the wall was a large supporting bulkhead that was shaped to look like a giant vanilla ice cream cone. The main gate into the complex had massive vanilla ice cream cones on either side and the large and cubed grey building was decorated spottily with large vanilla ice cream cones on the corners of the building and along the roof. There were also large towers and tanks that lined one whole side of the building. In the parking lot were several familiar ice cream trucks, each painted the same way with miniature ice cream cones on top of the cabs.

"You'll notice," Number 362 said, pointing out her landmarks with a laser pointer, "There is a large main gate that is probably locked and watched by a guard. However, there are maintenance accesses along the wall, hidden within a few of the bulkheads. The bulkheads are covered by those large and hideous ice cream cones".

Rachel giggled a little and then composed herself when she realized no one else was laughing.

"Anyway, by way of surveillance, I've confirmed that these maintenance accesses are probably our best bet. They are overly large iron doors, but nothing compared to the main gate. These doors also appear to be unguarded but they could be on an alarm system, so we'll need to watch out for that. It's an old family owned factory that's been around for years and that's why it's so close to residential areas. Those residential areas might provide us with a way in and out of the factory without being detected by too many witnesses.

Now, according to the hijacked radio conversations there will be a meeting at the end of next week, Friday, at midnight. The factory of course will be emptied of the regular workers by that time and will be left open to more nefarious visitors. It's a possibility that we will see them in full force but it's also possible that this is a meeting of the "higher ups" only. If that is the case, then we will most likely just see those who are in charge of the various ice cream men groups and their missions.

Either way, I understand that this meeting is going to occur with all those in charge present and accounted for so we need a team in there on that night to survey and record everything that goes on, both in deed and in conversation."

"Right," Number 1 said, "What are some specific things we are to look for?"

Rachel tapped the laser pointer on the edge of the table thoughtfully, "You need to identify key figures in these groups, if you can. We need to know who the leaders are and we can start working on them. I suppose that the group of ice cream men that were congregating at Mr. Frosty were just the foot soldiers and we're looking for the directors.

See if you can pick up any names, places, or times. Listen for any goals or objectives and see if they mention any other organization that might be affiliated with the same goal. If you get there early enough and can look around, see if you can find administration offices and pilfer those. I really want to find out who owns that factory and the many hands that have passed this corporation around are making it difficult."

She turned the projector off and nodded for Number 5 to get the lights again.

"Sector V, you will need to spend the next week or so scoping out the factory. You'll need to learn its weakness and its systems. You'll have to watch the ice cream men as they come and go, who leaves last, how the alarm system works, etc."

"Wouldn't be a bad idea to brush up on your training either," said Patton's stern voice from the back, "You might be up against quite a bit at the factory."

Number 1 turned to look at the officers in the back, "Agreed, do you have time at the Arctic base?"

Patton shook his head, "No. I wish I could help but I'm pretty booked; we're recruiting new operatives and building new Sector's weekly. I would suggest getting Number 74.239 or Number 2 to get a police scanner rigged and go fight some crime." He smiled as he picked his backpack up off of the floor and started putting it on, "You guys need to earn your keep around here anyway."

"That's actually not a bad idea," Chad said, "I was hearing this morning about a local mini golf champion that the police are looking for. I think he was suspected for killing a competitor. Apparently, he takes the game pretty seriously."

"Woah!" Number 4 said with a start, "That's intense."

"Mini golf?" Number 2 said with a whine, "I didn't even know they had championships on that, it's kind of dumb."

"Yeah," Chad said, "Anyway, you might do that if for no other reason than to hone your observation and fighting skills, just make sure that you don't get so caught up in it that you expose our organization or draw unnecessary attention to us. Remember, the mission is the Tasty Taste Ice Cream Factory at the end of next week; we're playing this one for all the marbles."

Number 1 tuned out as the group began to gather their belongings and make small talk as they were all leaving. Between the surveillance, training, weapons modification, and school work, there was much to do and not much time.

Yet, Nigel wouldn't have it any other way.