Take out their family jewels!

As the door swung open, Ned struck what he hoped was a dashing and intimidating pose. In reality, he looked more like a startled cat trying to appear nonchalant after falling off a windowsill.

"Gentlemen!" he called out, voice only cracking slightly. "Lovely evening for a potentially fatal confrontation, isn't it?"

The four figures paused, clearly not expecting such a... unique greeting. Ned could practically hear his team's collective facepalm behind him.

[SYSTEM ALERT: Unconventional approach detected. Effectiveness: To be determined.]

One of the men, a burly fellow with a scar that gave him the look of a person who makes poor life choices, stepped forward. "Agent xXx_SpyGod69_xXx," he growled, "you're coming with us."

Ned blinked. "Well, that's awfully presumptuous. You haven't even bought me dinner yet."

Scar-face's hand twitched towards his weapon. "This isn't a joke."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Ned retorted, channeling every ounce of false bravado he could muster. "This whole situation is hilarious. I mean, look at us! Clandestine meeting, dark alley, mysterious van... we're one mustache-twirling villain away from a spy movie cliche."

The tension in the air was thick enough to spread on toast. Ned could feel his team shifting behind him, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. He just needed to buy a little more time, keep them talking...

Suddenly, an idea struck him. It was risky, potentially suicidal, and definitely not in any spy handbook. In other words, perfectly on-brand for Ned.

"Tell you what," he said, taking a step forward. "I'll make you a deal. You guys clearly want information. Well, so do I. How about a little trade-off?"

The operatives exchanged glances, clearly thrown off-script. Scar-face frowned. "What are you proposing?"

Ned grinned, the kind of grin that made sensible people take a step back and check their wallet. "A game, my dear adversaries. A test of wits, if you will. You ask a question, I ask a question. First one to refuse to answer loses."

[SYSTEM ALERT: Highly inadvisable course of action detected. Recommend immediate reevaluation of life choices.]

Ignoring the system alert, Ned pressed on. "If I win, you leave us alone and tell us who sent you. If you win... well, I guess I'll come quietly."

"'D', what the hell are you doing?" Atara hissed from behind him.

"Improvising," he whispered back. "Just... trust me."

The lead operative considered for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But no tricks."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ned said, crossing his fingers behind his back. "You first."

Scar-face's eyes narrowed. "What was the objective of your operation at the Nexus?"

Ned felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. Here goes nothing. "Training exercise," he answered truthfully. "Now my turn. Who do you work for?"

The operative smirked. "Classified. Where is the data you stole from the agency mainframe?"

Ned blinked, genuinely confused. "What data?"

"Don't play dumb," Scar-face growled. "The encrypted files you accessed during your 'training exercise.'"

Realization dawned on Ned. The accidental hack! But he hadn't actually stolen anything... had he?

[SYSTEM ALERT: Accessing recent memory logs... Unauthorized data transfer detected during mainframe breach. File contents: Unknown.]

Well, shit.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Ned said carefully. "We didn't intentionally steal any-"

His words were cut off by the distinctive click of a safety being disengaged. "Wrong answer," Scar-face snarled.

Time seemed to slow down. Ned saw the operative's finger tightening on the trigger, heard the sharp intake of breath from his team behind him. In that moment, something inside him shifted.

Without conscious thought, Ned moved. His body flowed like water, ducking under the gun's trajectory and closing the distance between him and Scar-face in the blink of an eye.

[SYSTEM ALERT: Combat protocols engaged "BALL-CRASHING TAEKWONDO". Accessing advanced hand-to-hand combat subroutines.]

Ned's hand shot out, striking the operative's wrist. The gun clattered to the ground. In the same fluid motion, Ned pivoted, using the man's momentum to flip him over his shoulder. Scar-face hit the pavement with a satisfying thud, the air whooshing out of his lungs.

For a moment, everyone froze, equally shocked by the sudden turn of events. Then, chaos erupted.

The other operatives lunged forward, their weapons drawn. Ned's team sprang into action, years of training (or in their case, weeks of desperation) kicking in.

"Now!" Ned yelled. "Go for the family jewels!"

In that split second, chaos erupted. Ned lunged at another operative, grabbing his wrist and forcing the gun up. A shot rang out, the bullet punching a hole in a "NO LOITERING" sign above them.

'Ironic,' Ned thought as he drove his knee upwards, connecting solidly with the operative's 'knackers' with a jawbreaking sound. The man's eyes bulged, his face turning an interesting shade of purple.

Atara and Ursula tag-teamed the next guy. Atara went low, boobs swiveling upward towards the heavens and clapping into each other on their way down, splashing sweat all over. Her foot shot out in a perfect soccer-style kick, finding its mark at the back of two warm eggs.

"Eeeeech!!!!"The operative's voice jumped three octaves as he doubled over.

Ursula used the moment to wrench his gun away, tossing it aside. "Guess he won't be fathering any little operatives anytime soon," she quipped.

Zeta and Paige faced the fourth man. Zeta feinted left, then right, her 'cantaloupes' swinging dangerously in his face, momentarily hypnotizing him.

Paige used the distraction to slide baseball-style, right between his legs, her giant nipple holsters threatening to spill out of her lingerie. Her shoulder crashed into his 'johnson', lifting him a good foot off the ground. On his way down, his face met a nasty bash at the edge of a trash can.

"Strike three, you're out!" Paige called as the man crumpled, rolling in pain.

Scarf-face was seen pulling a side-arm after recovering from the early slam. But he quickly found himself cornered by Ember, Tinsley, and Raine. He raised his gun, but due to his aching back, Ember was quicker. She flung a handful of dirt in his face, making him sputter and blink.

"Hey, big guy," Tinsley called out sweetly. As he turned towards her venomous voice, Raine made her move. She swung her leg up in a perfect cheerleader high-kick, her foot shattering his future and any dreams of being a father.

"Yoo-hoo-hoo-WEE-yah!!!" Scar-face went cross-eyed with a painful yodel, his gun clattering to the ground as he folded like a cheap lawn chair.

With all four disarmed and... incapacitated, the girls quickly kicked the guns out of reach. The fight wasn't over, though. The operatives, though hunched and walking funny, weren't out yet.

"Round two, ladies!" Ned called out. "Remember, keep aiming below the equator!"

What followed was a chorus of grunts, yelps, and increasingly creative threats from the operatives. The girls darted in and out, their attacks always finding the same tender target.

And Ned? Ned was a revelation.

He moved with a grace and skill that seemed impossible. Punches were dodged, kicks redirected, and at one point, he could have sworn he did a backflip off a dumpster.

"You fight like girls!" Scar-face managed to growl out.

"Thanks!" Atara replied cheerfully before introducing her knee to his groin for the third time. "We've been practicing!"

After several more ball-crashing minutes. The operatives lay curled on the ground, all fight (and possibly future generations) gone from them as they were left peeing their pants.

[SYSTEM ALERT: Holy shit.]

As quickly as it had begun, the fight was over. The four operatives thoroughly trounced by a team of supposed washouts and their imposter leader.

Ned stood in the center of it all, breathing heavily but grinning like a maniac. "Well," he panted, "that was invigorating. Everyone still alive?"

His team gathered around him, a mix of awe and confusion on their faces.

"Ned," Atara said slowly, "what the actual fuck was that?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. "Would you believe 'Pilates'?"

Before anyone could respond, a low chuckle emanated from the prone form of Scar-face. "I knew it," he wheezed. "You really are him."

Ned frowned, crouching down next to the fallen operative. "What are you talking about?"

Scar-face's eyes locked onto Ned's, a mixture of fear and respect in his gaze. "The real Agent xXx_SpyGod69_xXx. The one they said had kicked the bucket. But I've seen the footage, heard the stories. He won't die that easily. And no one else moves like that. You are alive...."

Before Ned could press for more information, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air.

"Time to go," Ursula announced, already moving towards their escape route. Packed outside in a dark corner of the back alley was their getaway vehicle (a suspiciously soccer mom minivan).

They piled into the car, Ursula gunning the engine before they'd even closed the doors. And in no time, they were speeding across the streets.

As the city lights blurred past the windows, Ned caught Atara's sweat glazed boobs in the rearview mirror. A sly smirk played at the corner of his mouth as he checked his system for any pending notifications.

[SYSTEM ALERT: Collective 'heart meters' at an all-time high]

[BoinkBoink status: +20% (Previous status -16%); (Current status +4%)]

[SUGGESTION: Keep being the leader they look up to.]

The smirk on Ned's face turned into a crazed grin. "So, who's up for debriefing over pizza? I don't know about you, but kicking ass really works up an appetite."

The tension in the van eased slightly as a chorus of agreements rang out. With that, they made a quick turn down the lane to Zzo's Piz.

***