Just to clear things up, the first Kowalski didn't become Blowhole. He's still missing, believed dead. So is Rico. The Blowhole in this story is the first Blowhole's spoiled son Francis, Doris' younger brother.

Jones is the first Private

Skipper is the second Private (Private in flashbacks)

This chapter will have a lot of flashbacks just to cover the gap between where the previous story left off and this one starts.

September 5th 1975

"Talk to me, Kowalski." Skipper ordered, looking down at the bodies of Manfredi and Johnson. The looked strangely peaceful, which only added more to the morbid effect.

"It would seem they were given suxamethonium chloride, a depolarizing neuromuscular blocker," Kowalski reported, "which triggered a fatal attack of malignant hyperthermia…"

"Parlez-vous Anglais?" Skipper interrupted sarcastically, "Some of us aren't fluent in whatever it is you're speaking."

"Somebody gave them a very powerful muscle relaxant normally used during surgery that they had a bad reaction to," Kowalski explained, "Still, who would be able to get their hands on…?"

"Anything else?"

"Well, they found a note in Manfredi's hand," Kowalski handed Skipper a small piece of paper, on which were the words: Idehay ethay ootlay, Ivatepray, Aptaincay Eepycray's omincay' inway TAY-inusmay alfhay anway ourhay in thick black ink. Immediately Skipper turned away from the group, he didn't want them to see that it was more than just a random note, twisting the paper in his hands almost to the point of tearing it.

August 10th 1963

"Idehay ethay ootlay, Ivatepray, Aptaincay Eepycray's omincay' inway TAY-inusmay alfhay anway ourhay!" Manfredi panted as he caught his breath. He'd run the whole way from the post office in the nearby village.

"I'm sorry but I can't understand a word of pig Latin." Private replied. The two boys were in the garden of Nigel's cottage where they always spent their holidays. Still grinning madly, Manfredi translated the message:

"Hide the loot, Private, Captain Creepy's comin' in T-minus half an hour."

"Uncle K'walski?!" Private exclaimed.

"Yup, the one and only. He sent a letter a couple of weeks ago saying he'd be coming to visit, but the letter got delayed and, well, he's coming on the 1630 from Euston. And we both know what happens if he finds those lunicorns," However, Private had already disappeared into the cottage.

A few seconds Private and Manfredi were admiring a smoothed patch of earth behind one of the flower beds near the back of the cottage. A few feet under that, was a box containing Private's lunicorn and all its accessories.

"Good luck him finding them there," Manfredi commented.

"I'll always remember the day you saved Princess Self Respectra." Private thanked.

"She's not safe yet," Manfredi replied, "Remember that stash of sweets I hid behind…" That moment they heard a car drive up outside the door and immediately the boys were out front, doing their best not to look suspicious.

"Nice trip, sir?" Private greeted, hiding his dirt covered hands behind his back.

"Reasonably so," Kowalski replied, "I assume your day consisted of more productive activities than hiding Private's lunicorns beneath the flowerbeds?" Immediately the two boys turned bright red with embarrassment.

"Did not!" Manfredi protested, making Private wince. Manfredi was the only person Private had met who would outright argue with or even disobey Kowalski.

"Did too." Kowalski replied, slightly awkwardly. Private didn't know if this was supposed to be some form of a joke on his part, but he doubted it, "as I am sure we will find out when Nigel digs it up." And with that Kowalski walked past the boys and into the cottage.

"We have to get them out of there before he digs them up," Manfredi immediately stated, then after a few second thought continued: "Now here's the plan…"

"I don't know…" Private protested weakly.

"Don't be so nervous. After all…"

"…What could go wrong?" Skipper muttered.

"Sorry?" Kowalski questioned.

"Nothing. Any idea where a phone is? Jones is going to want to know about this."

"PS?" Skipper greeted, "This is Skipper."

"PS?" Skipper recognised the secretary's high pitched voice.

"Sorry, can I talk to Jones? Tell him it's urgent."

"Alright, I'll see if I can…"

"Actually, tell him it's about Manfredi and Johnson."

"I'll put you on right away." There was a pause as he was connected to 'PS's' private line.

"PJ, did you find Manfredi and Johnson?" Jones' voice asked tensely.

"Yeah, found dead in a day spa. Overdose on powerful muscle relaxants, causin' malignant hyper-somethin'-or-other. Point is, they're dead."

"Alright, I'll send in an extraction team, and talk to the police to make sure the press doesn't…"

"I heard about it on the evening news," skipper answered guiltily, "I've got no idea who alerted the press, but it wasn't us."

"Any suspects?"

"Two main ones would be Blowhole and our target judging by the knowledge of either medicine or poison the killer obviously possessed."

"Be careful, PJ," Jones warned, "Make sure you have the facts before you go charging in."

"Don't worry, Kowalski won't let me make a move until he's got all the evidence, and then some." The call ended. Jones reshuffled the papers on his desk. Six years later, and still the same old skipper: reckless and gifted, yet at the same time, so haunted, no matter what he said.

October 7th, 1969

"I see why you requested me to train him," General Shingen commented, looking out at the courtyard where the recruits were sparring, Skipper taking down opponent after opponent, "He is talented like his father. He's little like the nervous child you were telling me about a few weeks ago when you summoned me."

"Believe me, he's changed a lot. Cast away his lunicorn and everything the moment we took the bullet out. Even changed his accent trying to stop being adorable little Private," Jones replied, "He's quite determined to master everything."

"His technique is impressive for one so young," the General mused, "His style is so natural to him it's as if he was fighting before he could walk."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Jones muttered.

"Sorry?"

"Oh nothing. He's reckless though, that's why I wanted you to train him. I've given up trying to teach him that there's a better strategy than full frontal assault," for several minutes he watched as Skipper flashed that classic smile at his fellow recruits, all nursing painful injuries. He was the youngest of them, Jones had recruited him directly into the department, "He's so damaged though, you can see it in his eyes," Jones rested a hand against the windowsill with a sigh, "I only wish I could fix him."

"He seems to be a fine young man," Shingen replied, obviously unaware of what Jones was talking about.

"When you spoke to him, did he tell you what his fondest memory of his early childhood? Before he was sent to England?" Jones turned away from the window, facing the training statistics pinned to the wall, "Kowalski took him on a camping trip. Taught him basic tracking skills."

"I see nothing wrong with that."

"They were tracking down one of our agents, following the blood trail after the guy managed to walk twenty miles with one of K'walski's bullets in his leg," Jones elaborated, "of course when they got close K'walski told Skipper to stay put, and finished the man off without Skipper."

"That is… disturbing."

"That was for Will's seventh birthday."

"Sir, Skipper's back again," His secretary announced.

"Alright, put him through," Jones once again lifted the receiver, "Skipper?"

"I've just been contacted by Barry, he's wonderin' why I was at the crime scene. Apparently he's having us followed," there was a pause, and then Skipper continued: "I think he was behind this. I'm not certain, though," There was another pause; "We've got a target, a trial mission."

"Tell me which agent it is and I'll try and come up with something. I know Clemson wants a transfer…"

"It's Agent 12, and I doubt Blowhole will be willing to cooperate," Skipper replied, "I need her file, any special abilities? Does she sleep in her armour like the chinstrap sisters etc.?"

"Sorry Skipper, I can't authorise this," Jones replied, "Your ROE* are to only use lethal force in self-defence."

"How can we have ROEs?" Skipper snapped, "We don't even exist!"

"On paper we don't exist, but in real life someone has to fund us and they don't want to…"

"Alright, self-defence," Skipper snapped, "why don't I walk straight into Blowhole's lair, wait for them to start shooting at me, then tell Rico to take her out from a sniper position."

"Because that would be suicide," Jones answered matter of fact-ly, though he knew those words meant nothing to Skipper, "I'm sorry, but I can't condone outright assassination." There was a crackle on the other end of the line as Skipper placed his hand over the receiver, however he shouted so loud that Jones could pick up something sounding close to 'Kowalski, options.'

"I'm not letting him get away," Skipper snapped, "I don't care if the first casualty in the room is me…"

"That sounds a lot like one of your father's plans." Jones didn't want to pull that card, but if it saved the kid from a coffin, it was worth it. However the reply he received was not the whispered backtrack he was expecting:

"Then maybe he got some things right." There was a click as Skipper hung up. He turned to Kowalski, who was watching him with concern.

"With all due respect, sir," Kowalski stated, "I think the mission's…"

"We're done here, Kowalski." Skipper snapped, starting out the door.

*Rules of engagement