Chapter 13

Number 1 opened the janitor closet door quietly and peered out into the darkness; Number's 5 and 2 were right behind him. The ice cream men had funneled out of the meeting area and were headed down the hallway that Sector V had traversed just moments before. Number 1 found his heart conflicted; wanting to turn the corner and burst into the meeting room to arrest the shadowy character that had led the meeting and leave Number 3 and Number 4 to fend for themselves. Number 60 had indicated that Number 4 was a serious fighter, so it would have been a great opportunity to do so. However, the truth was that they still didn't have any information as to what was really going on, to apprehend the shadowy man now would either end in their deaths, or their exposure to the outside world. There would be another day.

Number 1 motioned to the others to head down the opposite hall; hoping that there would be a crossing where they could cut off the marching assassins. There was no telling where Number 3 and Number 4 might be at in the massive factory, but if Number 1 had to guess, it would be near the main floor.

Number 1 drew his S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. and hugged the wall close as he neared the next hallway. He jumped out, but there was no one there. It was hard to tell, in the dimly lit darkness, which way they were going.

Suddenly, they heard the percussive reports of small arms fire seemingly a few halls over. Number 1 skidded to a stop before the next hallway and turned to Number 5 and Number 2. There was a door leading to the factory floor a few yards in front of them. They both had their S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R.'s in hand and a look of courage in their eyes. Everyone knew that they were about to head into a fray in which their lives would be in danger.

"No matter what happens beyond that door," Number 1 whispered, peering over his shades with a gleam in his eye, "You get 3, 4, and yourselves out of here safely. We are all going home…alive."

Number 5 and 2 nodded hastily in agreement as Number 1 kicked the door open. The roar of gunfire woke up their ears as they charged into a brightly lit factory floor. Apparently the ice cream men had turned the lights on to gain the advantage.

There were two ice cream men that had their backs to the door, obviously standing guard in case the two kids tried to escape.

Just as the first one was turning around, Number 5 caught him in the stomach with her S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. The ice cream man let out a labored grunt as he was picked up off of his feet by the force and thrown into a nearby freezer, denting the aluminum panels on impact. Number 2 released his S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. into the legs of the other ice cream man causing the ice cream man to flip head over heels, striking his head on the stair way rail he was leaning on.

Number 1 turned to a smiling Number 2 in shock at the force that the weapons had demonstrated.

"What?" Number 2 innocently asked, with a shrug, "I said that I would tone down the force on the additional S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. models. I let us have the good ones!"

Using the stairway as cover, they peered out to see Number 4 with the G.U.M.Z.O.O.K.A. trying to lay down suppressive fire towards an upper balcony where some ice cream men had set up a position. There were also ice cream men on the factory floor, slowly working their way towards the cover that Number 3 and Number 4 had crouched behind. Number 3 had her S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R in her hand and ready to attack the first ice cream man that flanked their position.

Number 60 had trained them well.

"All right team," Number 1 said hastily, "It's pretty clear that we need to get them out of there. We need some sort of distraction!"

They looked around but there wasn't much outside of large vats, tables, tanks, shelves and other various large items. There didn't seem to be any way to cut the scaffolding or to gain any advantage around the ice cream men that were moving towards 3 and 4. Number 1 looked around desperately until his eyes lighted on a pressurized tank with valves and lines coming from every angle at the bottom. It was a tall and thin tank that happened to be perched directly under part of the scaffold.

" Number 5," he said, "See if you can sneak over to that pressurized tank and get it to blow, you can use the underneath of the balcony for cover. Once we have that for a distraction, 3 and 4 can move to our location. Number 2, it looks like there is an outside fire door over there to the side, get it open and we'll all move outside at once. It's likely we're on one of the sides of the factory that is opposite of our escape hatch, so get your bearings quickly when we get out."

Number 2 nodded and headed for the door. When Number 1 turned around to address Number 5, he noticed that she was already on her way. Number 1 wanted to yell out towards Number 4 to keep it up and that they would be able to extract them soon, but he didn't want to compromise his position since the ice cream men hadn't seemed to notice that they were present.

The constant popping of the gumball colored ball bearings as they shot out of the G.U.M.Z.O.O.K.A. was matched only by the intermittent gunfire from the ice cream men. Number 1 knew that it wouldn't be long before the gumballs in brightly colored machine gun would be almost gone. The look of determination in Number 4's eyes showed Number 1 that he wasn't going to give up no matter how much ammunition he had left, he would probably go down swing the weapon if he had to. Number 4 didn't seem panicked or concerned as he coolly switched his suppressive fire from one opponent to another as they popped their heads up and over the cover, trying to get a clear shot at Number 4.

There was a loud "bang" followed by a hissing noise, Number 5 had used her S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. to knock the valve off of the tank. There was an immense amount of steam issuing from where the valve had been knocked off and the tank was rocking violently.

"Number 5, get out of there!" Number 1 yelled over the noise.

Number 5 ran only a few steps before the concussion knocked her to the ground. The tank had ripped free of its few supports and shot up into the scaffolding like a missile, the steam having ripped out the bottom of the tank; the noise was deafening. With a deafening crash, the missile had slammed into the bottom of the scaffolding, upsetting the delicate balance of its supports. The ice cream men were in a precarious position and dedicated their attention in keeping from falling to the factory floor as the scaffolding shifted and bowed underneath the new stress. They held on for dear life as the scaffolding's bolts gave up under the dynamic stress and the entire platform began to sway out and away from the wall. One of the ice cream men screamed as he fell to the factory floor, no doubt breaking at least a leg.

"Team, move!" yelled Number 1 as he motioned for Number 3 and 4 to follow them. Number 4 kept the suppression going as he continued to fire, allowing for Number 3 to navigate around her cover and move towards Number 4. Number 4 hastily grabbed her hand and pulled her as he ran, firing the last of the ball bearings towards the remaining ice cream men that were running for cover from the buckling scaffold.

They ran towards the exit door that Number 1 was motioning towards as the scaffolding fell around them. Number 1 looked back to Number 5 who was dusting off her rose colored ball cap, putting it back on her head as she ran towards the door. The tank that had burst had left a fire in its wake…a fire that was starting to engulf the wall.

They got out just in time, their eyes straining to adjust to the darkness of the night. Number 2 was waiting outside, constantly looking around to see if there was anyone near.

"Come on guys," he said with a fierce look in his eye, "They're going to know soon enough that we are not in there anymore. The exit is just around the corner!"

They started to run down a row of decorative bushes that was outside of the factory and towards the bulkhead that held their precious exit plan. There were yells and shouts as ice cream men were leaving the factory and trying to coordinate where the assailants were and if they had been captured or killed yet.

They were running full speed towards the bulkhead where Number 2 had left the latch unlocked. There was no reason to be stealthy now, their cover was blown. The only objective now was to run as fast as they could and hope that the ice cream men didn't carry keys to the maintenance doors.

Number 1 felt as though his heart would explode in his chest, his feet pounding on the ground. He couldn't determine if it felt that way because of all the excitement, because he was running so fast, or because he could taste the thrill of victory.

Suddenly, Number 2 let out a girlish scream and the group came to a sudden stop.

There, at the edge of the factory's borders and the start of the decorative landscape; there at the edge, almost within reach of the exit was a tall and thin man in a suit, blocking their path.

Number 1 glared at the man through his black shades and realized that the man was also wearing black shades; it was the man with the briefcase that was standing at the back of the meeting room.

The stranger said nothing and only smiled as he reached into his suit coat and pulled out a large caliber handgun.

"Oh no," Number 4 grunted angrily in his thick Australian accent, "I'm not going through all that just to get shot by some cruddy lackey, yards from my exit!"

Number 1 turned around to see what he was doing since he was at the back of the line. Surely, by the time he did something, someone was already going to be shot.

Number 4 ripped the S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. out of Number 3's hands and held it close to him as he yelled at Number 1 to catch him. He ran a few steps and jumped in the air, his feet headed straight for Number 1. Number 1 kneeled, caught the much shorter Number 4's tennis shoe and pushed him up higher into the air.

Number 4 was lunging through the air at the shaded man like a wild animal. His tennis shoes caught the man in the chest and he simultaneously released the S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. on the crown of the man's head. The man stiffened up and crumbled to the ground like a nail being driven into a board with a hammer.

Number 4 landed on top of the shaded man's collapsed body and turned to face the rest of the team.

"Well? Are you coming? We don't have much time left!"

Number 1 smiled as they all continued running towards the bulkhead. There were plenty of ice cream men chasing after them in the dark, yelling as they went. They dared not fire any weapons since the factory was so close to a residential area, someone was sure to notice and call the police.

As if on cue, Number 1 could hear sirens in the background. It was a bold move to call the police since these ice cream men were thugs and had weapons that were most likely illegal.

There was a chilling thought that ran through Number 1's head as he ran towards the exit: What if the police were in on it? If that were so, they were in more danger than they realized.

Number 2 outran all of them, despite his weight and wrenched the door open. Sector V filed out hurriedly while Number 2 encouraged them to go faster.

The ice cream men were getting closer…and so were the sirens.

Number 2 kicked the business card that had fallen on the floor onto the outer side of the door and then slammed the door shut, locking it in the face of the ice cream men. It wouldn't be long until they either found a key, or found a way to scale the tall walls.

Sector V continued hurriedly across the road and found the board in the fence that was hinged. Number 1 pulled it opened and rushed all of the operatives through.

The sound of sirens was getting stomach churning closer.

Number 1 squeezed through at the last, slowly and quietly shutting the hinged door behind him just as police cars pulled around the corner and searched up and down the access road, shining a bright search light as they went.

Sector V sat still for a moment, trying to catch their breath. Each of them was looking at the other with a surprised and excited look in their eye. This was another successful mission and only their second to include the ice cream men, as the others throughout the past few weeks were unconnected. They were a great team, they worked together well, they watched each other's backs and the addition of Number 4 was like welcoming back a long lost relative. He was meant to be with them, that much was certain. He may not be as smart as Number 2, or as caring as Number 3, but that look in his eye was one of grit and spirit and that was just what the team needed.

They waited until the sirens had died down and then they started walking through the backyard to the main street in the neighborhood to Number 362's roadster. Number 2 had claimed that he had renovated it to fi Tech specifications but Number 1 mentioned that with the current circumstance, it was probably not a good idea to show them at the time.

"Well," Number 2 started, "I have a better idea! Let's go find some chili dogs; I'm starved after all that running!"