DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CODENAME: KIDS NEXT DOOR

A/N: Wow. The last chapter went over a lot better than I was expecting. Guess it was just Writer's Confidence after all. XD On a slightly related note, I do have how I want the rest of this to go planned out, so I won't have to wing it as I go anymore (like with the last chapter), so it shouldn't take as long to update. Just depends on free time now.

So, why is this just part of the chapter, when I said that I wouldn't be updating with partial chapters anymore? Well, in a nutshell, people in this fandom generally seem to respond better to shorter chapters. I guess it's easier to keep up with or something. So, I'm gonna see if this helps anyone out.

Fair warning: I'm updating without proof-reading again. I feel like I really should with this one, but I hate how much I'm keeping y'all waiting as it is. I actually finished writing this part a few days ago, but I started feeling sick soon after, and just haven't felt up to it. I'll get around to it soon, I swear it.

A special thanks to my reviewers. Très apprécié.

CHAPTER 10: ...OF THE STORM (PART 1)

By the time the sun rose over the Sector V treehouse, the three commandos were long gone. They hadn't announced their departure to the Sector, only left a note explaining that they left to investigate a lead and would return. Maybe it was a tad misleading, but it didn't matter. By the time the Sector saw it, the trio would already be nearing their destination.

The trip was quiet, for the most part. Trent had slept on the flight from the treehouse to the coast. Once at the coast, the three met with one of Numbuh 522's contacts, who was waiting with a Kids Next Door S.U.B.S.T.A.N.D.A.R.D. for them to take to the research facility. None of the boys had talked much since then; Numbuh 522 seemed preoccupied with the mission, while Trent and Numbuh 419 were just sleepy.

"Man, it's really wavy out here," Trent said, examining one of the screens in front of him at the S.U.B.S.T.A.N.D.A.R.D.'s Navigation Station. He was referring to their current location, which was somewhere out in the Atlantic Ocean. He had never been out on the ocean before, much less in a submarine, so his nerves were a little on edge (the large glass window in the center of the compartment's floor didn't help). Fortunately, it was proving to be an educational experience for him; in an effort to distract himself, he had taken to learning the different control stations of the sub, particularly the Weapons Station.

"Yeah, there's a hurricane formin' in the area," Numbuh 522 said from the Sonar Station. "Good thing we're underwater."

Trent gulped, and tried to re-immerse himself in the screens.

"So, run this by me again," Numbuh 419 said from the central captain's chair behind Trent. "We find Numbuh 362, beat the crap outta Numbuh 08, and then all go out for ice cream afterwards, right? Except for Numbuh 08, of course. Probably doesn't like ice cream, anyway. Weirdo."

"Heh, somethin' like that. I could be completely mistaken here, but, I really think Numbuh 08 has a hand in this Jumpsuit business."

"How? What would he being doing?"

"I don't know; that's the thing."

"Not much of a confidence booster."

"I know, alright? I know he's working on some top secret project in one of the most secure Kids Next Door facilities on the planet, and I know it's probably impossible for him to even be capable of going behind everyone's backs like that! But that 'probably' is why I have to go."

Trent spun his chair around to face his compatriots, who were both fiddling with their respective stations (Numbuh 522 was typing on his console, and Numbuh 419 was using the parascope), not bothering to look at each other. He knew next to nothing about this Numbuh 08 character, but the other commandos seemed to take him very seriously. He didn't understand why, but the time for answers would have to come later.

"Don't get me wrong," Numbuh 419 said, without looking away from the parascope. "You know I'm with you all the way. Just wanna make sure I know what we're getting into. That's all."

"Don't worry. If I'm wrong, then we'll just head back to Sector V." Numbuh 522 glanced over at Trent, and shot him a mischievous grin. "I think we'd all rather be back there, anyhow."

Though his shades covered his eyes, Trent couldn't keep his cheeks from turning a little pink. He turned back around and faced away from Numbuh 522.

"They're okay, I guess," Numbuh 419 mumbled. "I'm enjoying being in charge of this sub right now, though."

"Please, you're only sitting there 'cause you begged me to let you play with the parascope."

"It's fun!"

"I don't doubt it. So, Numbuh 81, you seem pretty into those screens over there. You OK?"

Trent twisted his seat around at the sound of his codename. "Yeah. I guess I'm just not used to being underwater like this."

"I feel yah, man. I'm not a huge fan of it. The ocean's a big place. Never know what's out there. Or if whatever's out there is bigger than us and hates people from the surface world."

Trent cocked an eyebrow, unsure if Numbuh 522 was being serious or not.

"Ah, you're just a fraidy-cat!" Numbuh 419 said, still absorbed in the parascope. "You know there's nothing out there."

"No, I don't know! And that's my point!"

Numbuh 419 chuckled to himself, opting not to continue the argument. "So... we almost there?"

Trent glanced around at one of the screens next to him. "About five minutes till we get a visual of the facility."

"Good," Numbuh 522 said. "Then we should be hailed soon-"

"Approaching vessel," a girl's voice said over the submarine's intercom. "This is a restricted area. Turn around, or you will be fired on!"

"Friendly bunch," Numbuh 419 muttered to himself, chuckling.

"Super Deep Sea Science Lab, this is Numbuh 522, Kids Next Door Commando. I have Numbuh 419 and Numbuh 81 here as well. This is a scheduled visit. I have clearance to dock."

The treehouse took a moment to respond.

No doubt making sure our story checks out.

"Roger that, Numbuh 522. You are clear to proceed to Docking Bay 3. Please remember that this is a classified treehouse; projects in development here are not to be mentioned outside of these walls. Have a good visit, sirs."

"Man, she sounds so serious," Numbuh 419 said, finally tearing himself away from the parascope. "I bet these kids don't get away from here very much."

"Yeah," Numbuh 522 said, staring at the ocean floor through the glass section of the deck. "Some less than others."

Numbuh 419 stood to his feet and checked his S.P.I.C.E.R., prompting the other two to follow suit. Trent had made sure his weapons were ready the previous evening, but it never hurt to check again. As he examined his B.A.T.T.L.E.C.A.P., a question formed in his head.

"So, are you guys, like, high ranking officers, or something? I mean, since she called you 'sirs.'"

Trent's companions looked at him, exchanged glances with each other, and then looked back at him.

"You mean that wasn't explained to you in training?" Numbuh 522 asked.

Trent began to feel nervous. What wasn't explained? He didn't even know what the question was, much less the answer. He quickly realized that it was a simple question, though, not an accusation, and he calmed himself down. He shook his head.

"Huh. I guess that's one of those things you were supposed to learn durin' your trial period with the Sector. Guess it makes sense you didn't get that far, since you had to detach early."

Numbuh 419 picked up where his friend left off. "You know how KND Commandos work with and answer to the Supreme Leader directly, and how we all have really high security clearances, and how we're usually independent operators? It'd be kinda hard to carry out some assignments when some jerk officer from Sector Whatever is giving you stupid orders, or doesn't wanna follow yours to help with a mission. So, that, combined with the fact that we're simply the best of the KND, means we get some serious power."

"We're kind of a special case," Numbuh 522 resumed. "While we technically outrank most members of the Kids Next Door, we're not really supposed to go around orderin' people around unless it's mission-related, or somethin' along those lines. Really, it doesn't play a huge part in things, it just keeps us independent, and from gettin' held up by our own side."

Trent nodded slowly. "That makes sense. Wait... so... when I was with Sector V all that time, I was the ranking officer?"

"Eh, not really," Numbuh 522 said with a shrug. "You were technically in training. But, once you detached from them in South America and were assigned to this case, you 'graduated' from training. So, now, yes, you outrank Numbuh 1 and the others. So when the controller said 'sirs' back there, she was referring to you, too."

Wow... that's... cool. I guess.

"So what about us? Are some Commandos higher ranking than others?"

"No, not really," Numbuh 419 answered. "We're all the same, though we kinda unofficially keep ranks between ourselves, for the sake of structure. We generally go by experience to decide seniority. If the time does come for someone to take some kinda leader role, we'll usually go by whoever steps up. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, and we trust each other to know what they are."

"So where do you guys fall in in those ranks?"

Numbuh 419 grinned. "At the top, baby. We're the most experienced in the KND, so we're the unofficial leaders of the Commandos."

"Both of you?"

"We share the title."

"Which one is it really?"

"Debatable."

"You see, Numbuh 81," Numbuh 522 chimed in. "Numbuh 419 and I have been friends since I was fresh from the Cadets Next Door, and he had just finished his trial period with Sector W. We've done more assignments together than any other combination of Commandos. And we were there for some pretty big moments in KND history. So, we have a bit of a reputation."

Trent interpreted that as Numbuh 522 telling him that there was a story behind Numbuh 419's answer. He made a mental note to ask about that later.

"Ah, we're here! Numbuh 419, if you'd be so kind as to take us in."

"Why, it would be my legitimate pleasure, Numbuh 522."

Numbuh 522 moved to the captain's chair, Numbuh 419 moved to the Navigation Station, and Trent moved to stand next to the captain's chair. Trent felt it as the sub decelerated, and watched through the deck window as several roots along the ocean floor came into view, leading up to a massive treetrunk. What kind of tree grew at the bottom of the ocean like that, Trent had no idea. Maybe the scientists created it.

Moments later, the sub came to a complete stop. They were docked. Numbuh 522 looked over and grinned. "Welcome below, Trent." He stood up, and they all walked to the exit.

"So, you guys are pretty well-known, huh?"

"Yeah," Numbuh 522 said, opening the exit hatch. "Six years of service, you get to know everyone. The Kids Next Door is pretty big, but you'll find that it's a small world out there."

"Six years?"

"Yep. In case you didn't realize it, me and Numbuh 419 here are 12. We've made a name for ourselves; but our time is limited, just like everyone else's."

Trent stared after the other two boys as they exited the sub. For some reason, Numbuh 522's statement hit him right in the gut. He himself was only a few years away from being a teenager; he'd never really thought about what would happen then. What would become of him? Would he still be a fighter? For whom would he fight then? Has he been fighting losing battles all along?

"Yo, you comin'?"

Trent snapped out of his thoughts, and looked up at Numbuh 419, who was still smirking from earlier.

He doesn't seem worried about these things... Neither of them do. Then I won't either. After all, I promised Kuki...

"Dude?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"C'mon. Numbuh 362's sub hasn't arrived yet, but Bay 1 is standing by for her. Numbuh 522 went on ahead."

Trent nodded, and stepped out of the sub. He immediately felt a drop in temperature, which complimented the cold, bleak interior of the bay. Every surface of the rectangular room was metal, and the only features were the door on one of the walls, and the pool in the center, in which the submarine was resting. This place obviously wan't designed to welcome visitors.

Trent followed Numbuh 419 across the room and through one of the doors, leading into a long, equally inhospitable hallway. A couple pairs of armed KND security guards were patrolling the hallway going either direction. The two commandos headed down the hallway toward Bay 1. To Trent's surprise, as he and Numbuh 419 approached them, the guards stepped to the side to clear their way, though neither party acknowledged the other as they passed.

After what seemed like a mile's walk, they reached a door with "DOCKING BAY 1" painted over the door.

"Guess this is it," Numbuh 419 muttered as he entered through the doorway.

This bay was the same as the one they had docked in, with the exception of several scientists and security personnel awaiting the Supreme Leader's arrival. Numbuh 522 stood next to a red-headed scientist. The two were silent, but looked as though they had talked earlier.

"She should be arriving any moment now," Numbuh 522 said as they walked up to him. "With any luck, I'll be able to talk her into just turning around and going back to Moonbase. Then Numbuh 74.239 said he'll help us review the treehouse and make sure everything is legit."

"Of course, if anything were wrong, we'd know about it," Numbuh 74.239 said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Security is tighter here than anywhere else in the world. Over two-thirds of our staff is made up of security personnel."

"I don't care about the numbers," Numbuh 522 said, sounding equally annoyed. "Our enemy is among us, and we don't know where. We can't be too careful."

Numbuh 74.239 huffed and stuck his hands in his pockets. Trent figured they had been talking about that before. That explained why they weren't talking.

"They're here," Numbuh 419 said flatly. Trent furrowed his brow at the boy's random outburst, only to realize it wasn't so random when a S.U.B.S.T.A.N.D.A.R.D. slowly surfaced in the pool before them. Most of the operatives straightened up and struck a more professional pose, aside from the commandos, who simply watched. Once the submarine had fully surfaced, a brow rose out of the floor next to it and connected to the entrance hatch.

"We didn't get a brow," Numbuh 419 muttered. Numbuh 522 shrugged.

The hatch opened, and out stepped Rachel. She climbed down the brow, and walked straight over to where they were standing.

"Numbuh 362, sir!" Numbuh 74.239 said loudly, standing straight with his chest slightly puffed out. "The Super Deep Sea Science Lab is ready for inspection!"

"Very well," Rachel said, placing her hands behind her back. She looked over at the commandos. Her expression was very stern, and Trent couldn't help but notice the shadows under her eyes; she looked like she hadn't slept in ages.

This whole situation must be really difficult for her, Trent thought, frowning a little. Still, he was relieved to see her alive and well.

"Numbuh 81," she said in acknowledgement. "Numbuh 419. Numbuh 522."

"Ello," Numbuh 522 said casually, his informal attitude garnering a dirty look from Numbuh 74.239. "You look tired, ma'am. Go get some sleep. We got this."

Rachel shook her head and replied sternly, "We've been over this. You shouldn't be here, anyway. I told you to stay with Sector V. Or are they here, too?"

"Nope, just us. Seriously, please-"

"No, Numbuh 522. I'm already here, and there's nothing to worry about, anyway."

"Then you won't mind if we tag along."

Rachel sighed. "Fine." She turned to Numbuh 74.239. "This is an informal inspection, Numbuh 74.239. Don't stress about it. Let's just get it over with."

"Sounds good to me!" Numbuh 74.239 said enthusiastically, leading Rachel and her posse of guards out of the bay. Trent exchanged looks with Numbuh 522, and they followed.

"I want a status report of all science projects currently in development," Rachel commanded, her voice echoing a little in the long, steel hallway. "Anything that could possibly have anything to do with this Jumpsuit guy."

Trent glanced to his left at the other commandos. Numbuh 419 seemed to be watching the security detail escorting them, while Numbuh 522 kept his hand near his leg holster.

Glad I'm not the only one on edge here.

"Yes, sir," Numbuh 74.239 said. He turned to a door on his left, and began typing on the keypad next to it. "Better yet, I'll show you."

The boy led them into a large lab. It had large glass tanks of various colored liquids, marked containers and canisters of who knows what, science equipment, computers, and all kinds of stuff Trent couldn't identify, along with several scientists at work. Trent gaped at all the things around him, before realizing that no one else seemed interested in the slightest. His face reddened slightly as he returned to a professional composure.

"This is our primary chemical laboratory," Numbuh 74.239 explained, already heading to a door on the far side of the room. "We've been working to develop a cure for the common cold for years now. We've made some advancements in terms of comfortability and soothality, but nothing permanent."

Rachel remained silent, offering no acknowledgement. It was entirely possible that she was already aware of this project. She was the Supreme Leader, after all.

And I bet she knows about the other projects, too. And who knows what else...

Numbuh 74.239 continued. "Obviously, no part of this project could possibly do anyone any harm. Well, unless someone mixed the Grasshopper Formula with the Daisy Concoction from earlier, then- oh, heh heh, nevermind!" He chuckled nervously once he realized Rachel was glaring at him, unamused.

Man, she's dead serious about this. I really hope she's OK...

"Right, well, through this door is our next project, codename: G.O.J.O.E." Numbuh 74.239 entered a code into the keypad, and the reinforced double doors slowly swung open. He paused for a moment, until the doors were open enough for the group to proceed, and then continued in. "As you're probably wondering, G.O.J.O.E. is an acronym for..."

The boy's words faded into the background as a sudden sense of dread overcame Trent as he entered this new room. It looked similar to the last, except, instead of colorful liquids and lights everywhere, this room contained large glass tanks of black and dark brown liquids, and most of the equipment seemed to be deactivated. The space seemed neglected, trashed even. It just seemed... off.

But that wasn't what triggered Trent's emotions. There was a strong stench about this room, and Trent recognized it immediately, though he couldn't place what it was or where he knew it from. But he knew it was nothing good.

And then he remembered.

He found himself in an intersection between rows of shelves in a dimly lit storeroom. The ceiling wasn't very high, but the walls were far enough apart that he couldn't even tell how big the room was. There was a strange smell, something somewhat familiar, but it was too faint for him to place it.

Back on that ship, when we rescued Rachel! It's that same smell! I have to say something!

"Numbuh 74.35... uh, whatever!" Trent shouted, causing the whole group to stop and look back at him. "What's going on here?! What is this place?"

"It's Numbuh 74.239," the boy said curtly. He continued to the center of the room, everyone else watching him like a curious crowd around a street performer. "Essentially, G.O.J.O.E. is the product of a secret, experimental operation to convert the adults' beloved coffee into a super-efficient fuel for our ground vehicles, aircraft, and space fleet, thus providing us with a valuable resource, and depriving the adults of their primary energy source!"

Trent was livid; he'd been right all along. "So the Kids Next Door is working with coffee! I knew it!"

"Numbuh 81!" Rachel stepped towards him, sounding exasperated. "I... I didn't know... i-it's not a weapon! O-or..."

"It's dang suspicious, though," Numbuh 522 said, crossing his arms. He sounded like he was on Trent's side. "Our most secretest lab has a ton coffee stored up. For science experiments, no less. And what about that... operation that he mentioned? I've never even heard of it!"

"Neither have I!" Rachel sounded desperate for them to believe her. "When I terminated Chad's project after I took over, I thought all the coffee had been disposed of! I don't even know how they got so much!"

"...I do."

Everyone turned to stare at Numbuh 419. Both Rachel's and Numbuh 522's mouths hung open. Trent simply stared; his train of thought had completely derailed.

"Dude..." Numbuh 522 seemed to struggle to form his words. "You... in on this?"

"I'm not in on nothin'," Numbuh 419 replied casually. "Back when Chad was still in charge, he had me heading a series of covert ops interceptin' and stealin' coffee shipments. Supposedly, the shipments were to be decaffeinated, and then replaced before anyone's the wiser. But, uh... heh... guess I was bein' used."

Trent furrowed his brow behind his shades. Numbuh 419 sounded as if he was on the verge of laughter. What an odd response for someone just found out that he was a pawn in a scandalous scheme. Maybe it didn't matter much to him.

Or, maybe he's in shock...

"I can't believe this," Numbuh 522 said, still shaking off the surprise. "How... why didn't I know about this?!"

"Because he knew you wouldn't go for it. Guess he thought you'd go digging for proof."

"And I woulda. Just like you should've."

"Look, I know it sounds fishy now, but nothing seemed out of place at the time. And you know I couldn't tell you."

"...Yeah, I know. So, wait, was that what was going on when-?"

"Yeah."

"So everything with-?"

"Yeah. So now you know."

Trent sighed. They were wasting time. "You were used. It's not your fault. But that's not important anymore."

"He's right," Rachel said, sounding more like her usual confident self. "What's done is done. And now that we know what was done, we can make sure we take the right steps from here on out. But we all need to be on the same team."

Trent glanced at her for just a moment. I know you're trying to salvage the situation, Rachel. But it might be too soon for that. Or too late.

"We still don't know everything," Trent said. "We should keep moving. But, first, Numbuh 74.238, how far did you make it with this project? Was it successful?"

"Nine. Two three nine. And the project never yielded any positive results. It's a bit of an enigma, really; we reworked the formula numerous times, and engineered the prototype compound perfectly. Theoretically, the test batches should have performed flawlessly. In practice, however, the fuel lines of all the testing craft spontaneously combusted. Every time."

"How come?" Numbuh 419 asked. "Was the coffee base too strong, or something?"

"It shouldn't have been. Perhaps it's a simple oversight. We'll figure it out."

"No, you won't!" Numbuh 522 shouted. "This project is too risky! We-"

"We'll decide on that later," Rachel said firmly. "What are the other projects?"

Trent felt someone nudge his arm, and looked over at Numbuh 419. While the rest of the group followed Numbuh 74.239, the commandos formed a triangle, facing each other.

"So, watcha thinkin'?" Numbuh 419 whispered once the others were out of earshot.

"I'm thinkin' Numbuh Smartypants is full of it." Numbuh 522 said. He sighed. "We're wasting time. Stay with them. Numbuh 81 and I are gonna pay a visit to our... special friend."

Numbuh 419 nodded. "Make sure to tell him 'hi' for me."

"Will do. Keep us updated on the other projects via radio."

Numbuh 419 gave a mock salute, and took off after the others. Numbuh 522 nodded at Trent, and the two headed back toward the first hallway.

"You really think it's Numbuh 08?" Trent asked, examining the colorful lab as they passed through it.

"Yeah. At least, he's involved somehow. I know he is. He's been waiting for his chance to bring the Kids Next Door to its knees for years. There's no way he's not guilty."

"Why, though? What's up with him?"

Numbuh 522 remained silent until they exited back into the hallway. "Alright, I probably shoulda explained this better to you before. Numbuh 08 is the KND's dirty little secret. A lotta operatives know of him, and that we're holding him prisoner for treason; the specifics vary, depending on who you ask. All rumors, anyways."

They came to an intersection. Numbuh 522 examined the branching hallways, and then continued forward. "He's been a prisoner for five years, so he's not a new topic. Operatives are discouraged from talkin' about him, though. Not that anyone wants to, kinda like that obscure uncle in jail no one mentions at the family reunions."

Trent cocked a brow at that last comment, but continued to listen quietly. Numbuh522 continued, "The majority of the KND has forgotten about him anyways, which is good. Most of the kids who knew the truth have been decommissioned by now, so he's well on his way to fading out of KND history. Everyone will be better off once he's gone."

Trent stared at the boy. The whole thing sounded ridiculous to him. How could one boy warrant such a response from the KND? What could he have possibly done?

"I don't understand..."

"It's too much to explain now. Just know that he's not one of the good guys, Numbuh 81."

"Guys, it's me. You there?"

Trent reached into his hoodie and grabbed his radio. Numbuh 522 withdrew a similar one from inside his fishing vest.

"Numbuh 522 here, go ahead."

"Roger. This place looks like a dead end, man. It looks like the common cold vaccine and G.O.J.O.E. are the main projects goin' on down here. The only other projects in the works are prototype training robots and a stupid giant baking soda volcano for doofus's school's science fair. Yeah that's right, I said it! Huh?! Yeah, that's what I thought!"

"Dude, move the mic away from your face when you yell at people."

"Sorry. But yeah, this thing is dumb."

"I believe it. So what about those fighting robots? What can you tell me about those?"

"Apparently they were supposed to one-up the training robots some of the Sectors use in every way. They'd even be capable of carrying out simple missions. But the design is complicated, and they haven't been able to get a working prototype up and runnin' yet."

Trent frowned. Something didn't seem right. "So, they've done everything right, but it won't work, for some mysterious reason? Like with G.O.J.O.E.?"

Numbuh 522 looked over at him. "That's... an inconvenient coincidence. For our side. Why aren't any of these projects working?"

"You think there's some sabotage goin' on? That there's a mole down here?"

"It's entirely possible. Look, stay with Numbuh 362. We're almost to Numbuh 08. Hopefully he'll slip and let us in on whatever it is he's in on. If nothing else, we'll make sure he doesn't try anything while we're here."

"I copy, bro. Have fun hanging out with him."

Numbuh 522 scoffed as he put away his radio. "Right."

A/N: Right, so, I've come to the conclusion that I enjoy writing existing characters in the KND universe more than OCs. I like writing OCs, but mainly in original stories. Plus, I can't even hope to match the cast that's already in place. Also, I feel like I've got a much better grasp on the characters now, especially considering I was only about halfway through watching the series when I started this. I definitely want to do a redux of this story later on down the line. Much later.

Aiight, I'm gonna go to bed now. XD

Have a good one, all,

- Marty