February 2nd 1951
"Thanks for keeping me company tonight, Private," Marlene thanked, shaking the rain off her umbrella, before looking about the HQ for a place to hang it. It was quite common for Marlene to come over in the evenings, at least, since she'd moved in with Skipper. He was gone much of the time, and most of Marlene's friends shunned her due to her connection to the Penguins.
"Oh, I'll take that for you. I do apologise, the place is a mess," Private replied as he took the coat from her.
"I really don't understand why Skipper's always out so late. He comes home at six in the evenings, then leaves at seven, and doesn't come back 'till five in the morning." Private bit his lip, he didn't like where this was going, "then he leaves for work at nine, looking absolutely exhausted. I've caught him sleeping at his desk several times."
"I don't think Skipper would see another woman…"
"I didn't mean that, no, I know he's not," Private breathed a sigh of relief, "Well, if you promise not to tell Skipper…"
"You have my word, I will say nothing." Private replied.
"I… followed him one night, back when I first started seeing him. He was threatening to throw someone off the roof. Well, I guess he does a lot of his 'work' at night."
"I can see why you wanted that kept confidential. Skipper doesn't like being followed. "
"I know, I considered telling him," Marlene smiled sheepishly, "Frankly, I'm just too scared."
"Skippah can be quite intimidating at times."
"Y'think?" Marlene laughed, "It's been his job for the last year."
"It's been a difficult year for him, losing Manfridi and Johnson, Blowhole turning up, suddenly having to manage an entire city. I don't really blame him if he's a bit cranky. He's doing much better than normal under the circumstances, actually."
"Well, I'd hate to see normal."
November 7th 1951
Private was staring out the window of the HQ, watching the traffic on the street below. Skipper had called a meeting, requesting that the whole team be present, though still hadn't told anyone why. In fact, he hadn't really given them any answers more specific than 'classified'. Suddenly, Private's eyes narrowed, as he spotted a familiar face on the sidewalk below, "Skippah?" Skipper turned around, "Is that Uncle Nigel?" skipper looked calmly out the window of the HQ.
"Yes, that is." He answered, unsurprised.
"But, didn't you say that the HQ was so secret, not even Uncle Nigel knows where it is?"
"He worked it out."
"He what?!" Kowalski jumped up from his chair, where he'd been randomly scribbling mathematical equations on his clipboard, out of sheer boredom. Private saw his eyes dart towards his new radio set, as if wishing it would turn invisible.
"Do you have something to hide, Kowalski?" Skipper asked sternly.
"N... N... No, sir."
"Of course you do. Every one of us does and Nigel knows about all of it," Kowalski turned pale, "There's just nothing he can do." The room, with the exception of Private, noticeably relaxed.
There was a knock at the door.
"Enter!" Skipper shouted. The door opened and Agent Nigel walked in. Private stood to attention.
"At ease soldier," Nigel looked on at the four men with disapproval. The fact that his nephew had been the only one to follow proper courtesy was not lost on him, nor was his emphasis on the singular version of the word lost on Private.
"Hello Uncle Nigel," Private greeted, trying to lighten the mood, though it seemed forced, "Um…would you like a cup of tea?"
"No thank you, Private. Skipper has something important to talk to you about." Nigel answered icily.
"What was so important you couldn't tell us in a telegram?" Kowalski asked.
"Hasn't Skipper told you?" Skipper, was leant back in his chair, obviously not sharing his superiors concern, or so he wanted it to seem; though Private could tell by the way his every movement seemed impeccably controlled, almost as if plotted on a graph, that he was not as relaxed as he wanted everyone to believe, "Last week I ordered Skipper to shut down the Penguins," Private could see Rico and Kowalski cast nervous glances at their leader, "He refused."
"Skippah?!"
"Nigel, I've said this once, though I figured you wouldn't listen, and now I'm going to say it again in front of the team," Skipper stood up, and faced Nigel, despite the fact he was the shorter of the two which didn't do much for the dramatic effect, "If I shut down the Penguins now, everything we've worked for goes out the window."
"Rubbish. The power's corrupted you, and you can't give it up," Private, and the rest of the room watched Skipper turn redder and redder, "Admit it, Skipper." This was one of those topics, along with the necessity to cut back on pollution that automatically drove Skipper over the edge.
"The power hasn't corrupted me!" Skipper snapped, glaring at Nigel, "I'm trying to save this city."
"Then you're too arrogant to see it," Nigel turned to Private, who was looking very uncomfortable, "Why do we work in teams, Timothy?"
"S...Sir," Private stuttered. Nigel had just asked him to pick sides. By answering his question, he'd be supporting Nigel's argument, something Skipper wouldn't take kindly to. But then, Nigel was right, "I... I don't know, sir."
"Of course you..." Nigel stopped, the look on his nephew's face made him realise what a difficult position he'd put him in, "...don't. The reason we work in teams, Skipper, is you can't save the world on your own."
"They said that about RAT, and I did end up 'saving the world on my own'."
"With RAT, you got lucky. What you aren't seeing is that the continued existence of the Penguins has made the problem you were assigned to combat worse. You can still make things right if you stand down now."
"The Blowhole argument again?"
"You've brought one of the most feared war criminals to America, armed him, and set him on a goal that could get millions killed. You know he'd think nothing of nuking the entire city just to get you, and he probably could do it."
"My answer's no, Nigel. That's final."
"If you don't shut this down, I'll shut you down." Nigel threatened.
"I'd like to see you try."
November 8th 1951
Once again Nigel found himself standing before the board, only this time, he'd called the meeting. He could have tried to stall for time, but he might as well get it over with. At least, that was the conclusion he and Brigadier General Lacy had come to, "Yesterday I spoke to the team," the room, was hushed. Everyone could tell from Nigel's tone of voice, this was serious, "the mission failed."
"So, why don't you shut them down?" Agent Peters, a critic of the scheme from the start asked.
"We… We can't. They've become too powerful… they're self-reliant."
"You told us that was impossible. You said those four men couldn't be corrupted!"
"I was wrong," Nigel couldn't bear to look at the reactions of the other men, instead opting to stare at the table in front of him. After a few seconds, he worked up the courage to continue, "Operation: Join and Destroy failed," Nigel repeated, though more to himself, "The Penguins have, at this point, officially gone rogue."
The room fell into a shocked silence for several minutes. All that could be heard was the rustle of paper as people fidgeted with the pages of the documents to try to break the tension in the room, the noise rising to a crescendo as each realised their efforts were ignored, and increased the noise, though none daring to speak.
"Essentially, what you're telling us," One of the politicians seated at the table pointed out, "Is that we have just created our own worst enemy." The rest of the room didn't need to wait for Nigel's reply.
"Agent Nigel, this is unacceptable…!"
"…will be court martialled…" Nigel could hear the men in the room shouting out every possible way to ruin his career. He'd heard stories of other men in his position, but the results of their mistakes had rarely been so drastic.
"Would all of you be quiet!" Peters shouted. The room, including Lacy, who had succumbed to the panic, stopped, "Every minute we waste, the Penguins get closer to being unstoppable. Try thinking of solutions instead of ways to ruin Nigel's life. We can do that later, and I guarantee," Peters glared at Nigel to reinforce his point, "a date will be set aside for that." With the room's attention, Peterson continued, "Now, Agent Nigel, do you have any possible solutions?"
"I'm working on something," Nigel answered, "I have a… contact who might be able to find a chink in their armour, or at least keep them somewhat under control."
"So you've got something on Grant?"
"I resent that statement, Peters. No, I always build in a contingency. I suppose you could say I have a man on the inside."
"…If you need to contact me in an emergency, the frequency is…"
"Uncle Nigel, I came to you because I think what the team is doing is wrong, and I want to leave," Private protested.
Nigel gave him a concerned look, "Timmy…"
"I just don't feel comfortable outright spying on them," Private continued to fiddle with the miniature microphone Nigel had given him, "They're practically… family. We've been through everything together, Nairobi surprise parties, talent shows with rocket fuel and paper lanterns…"
"Private, I could give you a huge speech about how I'm asking you to do this for your country…"
"We're English."
"You know what I mean. No, the reason why I'm asking you to do this is because if you just leave the team, you're going to be prosecuted as an accomplice. Department D will have to claim they had nothing to do with the Penguins, but I've made a deal with the DA's office, if you turn double, you won't be prosecuted," Nigel stood up from his desk, pacing the small office. This was always what he did when he was worried, "It's too late for me, I've already backed the wrong horse, but I don't want to you to spend the rest of your life on the run."
"Is that what will happen to Skippah, if I bring him in? I mean, he'd escape easily, but…" Private asked. Nigel realised he'd cornered himself with his own argument. He'd been too busy trying to protect his nephew to consider the scenario in which the boy outright refused to do it.
"He's done terrible things…" Private seemed unconvinced. Nigel had to admit, if there was one thing Skipper could do, it was inspire loyalty. It was then he realised what he was going to have to do. Private was young and naive, and wouldn't know if he was lying, "I've managed to secure them immunity from prosecution too, provided you bring them in." Nigel just hoped Private would thank him for it later, but he doubted it. Whatever way he spun it, he was manipulating his nephew.
"It's just like that bit old legend you told me when I was little, The Lost Treasure of the Golden Squirrel. You know that bit where they all look into the eyes of the Squirrel?" Private looked like he was about to cry, "They've looked into the eyes of the Squirrel and… and…" Private's lip trembled and a single tear trickled down Private's cheek, "I don't want Skippah to be lost."
"They won't be lost, Private," Nigel comforted, once again seeing the nine year old that would come down to his cottage in Kent for the summer break, "you can still save them."