A muggy heat had settled over Piscataway and rain threatened to let loose on this small town at any given moment, but that was the least of my concerns. I had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. Something so vital, so earth-shattering, that it put the very livelihood of this entire town at risk. Something that could rock Rutgers and the great Chop Nation to its very core. And I was the only man who could save us all.

I opened the door to a local dive. They served some decent chow but the clientele was suspect at best. But it was the kind of crowd that knew to keep their eyes down and their mouths shut. This was where my contact had agreed to meet, with the understanding that this was a rendezvous that was best had away from curious gazes and loose lips.

I spotted him as soon as I came in the door. He was no more than five foot six, and maybe a buck fifty soaking wet. A real intellectual type. Hopefully he had the brains to solve this problem for both our sakes. I tugged at the collar of my trench coat to help hide my face and stepped into the din of the run down greasy spoon. I pulled up next to him at the bar and signaled for the barkeep to pour me a drink, or at least whatever passed for one in this joint. I had to make sure that this meeting purely coincidental for prying eyes.

"Uhhhh Coach? Are you going to say something?"

Damn amateur.

"Shhhhh!" I hushed him as I casually looked around, making sure no one heard his slip of the tongue. "I've gone incognito and purposely picked this location so as not to draw attention."

"But Coach, its 78 degrees out and you just walked into an Applebees wearing a trench coat and Fedora. You're drawing more attention than that family of four over there with the two crying kids and the dad who is obviously drinking himself to the point of not caring."

This guy might be book smart, but he certainly wasnt street smart like me.

"Look," I hissed under my breath, "you picked the time, not me. We should have made the exchange at midnight like I wanted."

"Coach, I sure as hell wasn't going to go to the 'train station' at midnight to talk to you and after I told you that, you were the one who suggested to meet here at 6:30 because, and I quote, 'they have 2 for 1 apps during happy hour', so don't give me a hard time, ok?"

He had a point. And those mozzarella sticks were hard to pass up.

"Alright kid, don't kill yourself over it. It was an honest mistake."

"Wait a seco-"

"Lucky for you I'm in disguise, so we should be ok."

"What are you talking about? I recognized you as soon as you walked in."

I scoffed at his naivety.

"Only because you knew I was meeting you. I'm not wearing any Rutgers gear, so there's no way anyone could identify me. Its foolproof."

"Coach, there's a guy standing behind you right now and I think he wants your autograph."

I turned around to see some slack jawed mook staring holes into me. Damn. Now my cover was blown.

I signed his autograph book; made it out to Al or Sal. Whatever. I had more pressing issues to attend to.

"So I'm assuming you got my secure transmission?"

"You mean the email you sent me? Was that from an AOL account? I didn't know those still existed."

If he was so smart, he wouldn't be laughing at my security measures.

"And you were able to break the encryption?"

"Encryption?" His voice trailed off as he pondered my question. "That wasn't encrypted. You just changed the font to Wing Dings. Yeah, I changed it back to Ariel. I honestly thought you were pranking me."

So I see where the smarts come in. The man is a hacker. Perhaps I wasn't giving him the credit he deserved. I'll make sure not to misjudge him in the future.

"Well then you know my predicament. I need my man back in the field. Its of the utmost importance. There are enemy agents ready to overtake us. That team from Pennsylvania has some clandestine secret op planned. Its code name: The Stripe Out. God only knows what they're scheming. And that agent you're holding out might have the key to stopping them!"

We sat in silence for a moment as the gravity of the situation sunk in.

"C-coach? Why are you yelling? Everyone is staring."

"Its ok son, we're in the Cone of Silence."

I pulled out an envelope and slid it across the bar to him.

"Look, inside this envelope is some mission intelligence I've picked up and some...compensation for your troubles"

He looked at me puzzled as he spilled the contents of the envelope onto the bar.

"Coach Flood, this is just a note written in crayon and a coupon to Jiffy Lube? I dont understa-"

"You dont need to understand right now. You just need to trust me. Your life might depend on it. All our lives might depend on it. Rutgers football might depend on it. Now head home and wait for my next signal."

"Oh god, you aren't going to send that mascot to my house again, are you?"

"Be prepared agent. And remember the code word..."

I leaned in and whispered in his ear, "...keep chopping."

"But that's two-"

I stood up and made my way to the exit, signaling to the bartender on the way.

"Just put it on your tab, Coach?"

I gave him a nod and smirked as I headed out into streets just as the streetlights started to kick on. I love it when an operation goes just as planned.

Join us next week when Agent Kyle Flood tries to find a mole in his organization. Could it be his own boss, AD Julie Hermann? Find out in the next chapter of The Daring Tales of Kyle Flood: Super Secret Agent!