It was a normal day in the HQ apartment. The day was young and their fighting training had just begun, practising for further events that could very well happen, in Skipper's mind. Like attack ninjas, or the government infiltrating their base. There were too many things that could happen- the last thing he needed was his men to be under-trained in a time of need.
Skipper stood, his arms crossed and staring at his team mates, who were all lined up in a row. A silence was between them, which wasn't usually Skipper's first action after watching his team mates preform a training exercise. Most of the time it was what they did wrong or right, or if they completely failed the manoeuvre they got a slap. Today, it was a long stare and silence. It was like his mind wasn't there, or he was still evaluating what had gone on in front of him.
"Um... Skipper?" The tallest team mate, John Kowalski, asked, nervousness lacing his voice.
The leader finally sighed, shaking his head as if he never had that weird moment of silence. "Okay, take it from the top. And-"
Just as Skipper was about to say "go", there was a knock on the door. The so-called soldier rolled his eyes and growled softly at the interruption, grabbing the door and violently ripping it open, giving the person on the other side an ice-cold glare.
The person on the other side was a dirty blond male, oval wire-framed glasses sat low on his nose, looking at Skipper with a bored look. "Is there a..." the man looked at his clipboard. "Thomas McCullock around here?"
Skipper raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, never breaking his intense stare from the guy. "He might, he might not be. Who's asking?"
The blond sighed, grabbing a pen from his suit's dress pocket. "I'm here from Child Protective Services. I'm here to inform him that his daughter-"
"Whoa whoa whoa, there. I am Thomas McCullock, and no, I do not have a child. I don't know where you're getting this from, but you need to leave."
The man blinked and sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "Please tell me this isn't one of those cliché things where the father doesn't know he has a daughter."
When Skipper gave the the CPS worker a blank stare, the worker gave a small groan. "It is. Are you aware of a woman named Kitka Peregrine?"
The leader's eyes furrowed together. He nodded slowly, combing a hand through his neatly-trimmed black hair. "She was my girlfriend, what, fourteen, fifteen years ago? Why?"
"It's been sixteen years, and apparently she had a daughter. Her name is Liberty. Ms Peregrine has passed away two days ago from a car accident, and Liberty has been at the Bellin Hospital in Green Bay, Wisconsin for the past four days."
Skipper stopped, and the team lightly cringed when they heard of Kitka's death. Once in a while, once in a great blue moon, they would get together. The team knew their leader still had some feelings for her, but it wasn't enough to keep them together. Never once, though, had Kitka mentioned that there was a daughter involved in their little love equation. Kowalski had told Skipper numerous times he thought she was hiding something, but he blew it off all the time, saying if she was hiding something, she had the right to hide it. They weren't together.
Now? Skipper wished he would have listened.
"Okay," he replied slowly. "And this Liberty girl, she's my… daughter?"
"Yes sir. You need to sign some papers to legally become her guardian, and as soon as she's released from the hospital she'll be on a plane to come here to New York."
Skipper just nodded slowly, still dazed as to what was happening. This day had started out normal.
That went down the drain fast.