"… And I was just starting to think about possible escape routes," Skipper reported, though some of the details were slightly altered. Well, he couldn't have him men thinking he wasn't in control of the situation, could he? "When Rico tossed the rope through the window. After that…"

"Skipper," Kowalski interrupted, "I don't want to suggest that you are unable to handle the current situation, but…"

"You want to help. Alright, start thinking of options," Skipper replied, much to the amazement of his lieutenant. Private's eyes even started to get a bit misty, earning him a glare from Skipper, "How do you think I should go about it?"

"Well," The scientist grinned, "while were stuck here I read all the files I could find. I also searched the Daily Central for all of Marlene Robert's articles and notes on the Penguins."

"They exaggerate ever'thin'," Rico countered, though all but Skipper were baffled as to why their supposed enemy was present, causing the Kowalski's proud smile to droop, much to the Rico's amusement. That scientist took himself way too seriously. However, this changed when the visitor motioned to a cardboard box overflowing with files and documents of all shapes and sizes, "'ve brough' what I could, bu' papers ain' everythin'."

"Then we've got a problem," the scientist answered, "Just about everyone with senior positions in the Penguins are all dead."

"There was a head of PR K'walski often talked about," Skipper added, "I didn't see his name mentioned under dececed. A Barry Malone?"

"He work' for me." Rico replied. Kowalski smirked.

"Oh no way am I spending five minutes with him!" Skipper exclaimed, "How about this, Private can talk to Barry, you can go through your archives, and I'll talk to some people I know…"

"Then we can all meet back at Marlene's place and talk to her." Kowalski finished. The meeting obviously over, the room emptied as the various groups set off on their appointed tasks. Skipper however remained behind, and after a few seconds asked:

"Why are you helping?" Rico turned around, and without a second's delay answered:

"Revenge." The word was simple, but it still baffled Skipper, as was apparent, "I don' know what 'owalski told you, but I wa' sent to th' 'Cabana by 'owalski 'cause there was supposed t' be an enemy agen' under cover as a ba'tender there."

"My father was one of K'walski's closest friends…" Skipper gasped, though he had to say, it made sense. People had killed for far less than an entire city, and it did seem like the kind of roundabout way K'walski would do something in, but he'd seen the pain in his eyes when he told it. Jones was a good judge of character and Kowalski's mourning had been entirely genuine, "He wouldn't do something like that."

"You're thinkin' of Jones?" Rico asked, "'e always had a soft spot fo' 'owalski since he save' his life, bu' he'll confirm this: ah was never th' psycho' on the team. When we wanted somethin', 'specailly unpleas'nt done, we whent to 'owalski."

Rico and Rico sat glaring at each other, neither one's eyes leaving the other for more than a split second. Private meanwhile, looked on completely mystified, and after a while decided to look out the window as there probably wouldn't be any change in the status quo. Why couldn't everyone just get along?

"Why're ya here?" The older Rico grunted.

"Why're you?" was the sharp reply.

"'s my emplo'ee. Don't Private trust 'e?"

"I trust you," Private answered, slightly confused by the question.

"Sorry, 'id," Rico replied, "Jus' sound weird ta say 'ipper."

"'ipper trust you as far 's 'e can throw ya." Rico answered.

"Don't be offended, though," Private added, "Skippah doesn't really trust anybody."

"Sorry, boss I didn't know it was you!" Barry called as he ran towards the group.

"'s fine." Rico replied, motioning for Barry to join them.

"Good afternoon, Mr Malone," Private greeted courteously, "I believe we've met before…" Barry gave him a suspicious glance, before his gaze moved to Rico.

"Why're the cops here, boss?"

"Answer th'r questions." Was the gruff reply, much to the surprise of the ex-journalist, however he couldn't disobey a direct order.

"What do you want to know?" Barry asked, though his voice still held a note of suspicion.

"I believe you were the PR officer for the Penguins," Private began to ask, "following the late Skippah's…"

"We call it an accident 'round here and leave it that," Barry interrupted, "Sure, I was."

"Well, you might have read in the news…"

"You want as much info as I've got on your zombie friend," Barry interrupted once again, earning him a disappointed frown from Private.

"I'm not trying to attack…"

"Lemme put it this way," Barry was quite determined not to let the shy young brit finish a sentence, "I can tell ya stories, but I was only the PR guy. I sat in on a couple of meetings, but whenever it was something big, I was given the boot. Kowalski didn't trust me. If you wanna know details about his strategies, fighting techniques, training etc. I wasn't in on any of that either. That's why I'm still breathin'."

"You were quite well known in your day as knowing everything, or at least being able to find it." Private pleaded hopefully. He opened his mouth to speak again, but much to Barry's chagrin, decided he was better off sticking with his complete sentence.

"No offence to you, boss," Barry nodded to his superior, "But he was the best. Never slipped up once."

"Y' always got somethin' on anyone important." Rico objected.

"Or were ya losin' you're touch, back 'en." The younger Rico taunted.

"I did, but it wouldn't be useful against him now." Barry replied indignantly, removing a small leather-bound notebook from his pocket, "A confirmation of the fact he knew he wasn't workin' for the government and a documentation of every single crime under Skipper isn't very useful when he just walks into banks and shoots at everyone."

"It still might be usefull," Private replied and extended a hand towards the book. After a nod from his superior Barry handed it to him.

"It's the reporter dame's notebook."

"PJ!" Julian exclaimed sighting the familiar face, "I haven't seen you in de centuries!"

"Hi ringtail," Skipper replied, though much like the last time he'd spoken to the nightclub owner, his voice lacked enthusiasm. He'd been putting off this visit a long time, years, in fact.

"You're a little early for de party, but…"

"Actually, I'm here to see mom." Skipper interrupted, scanning the empty nightclub until he spotted a woman seated at the bar, staring mournfully into a drink. He clenched his hands taking a deep breath before walking past Ringtail and towards the woman clad in a dress of simple black cotton. He was only a few feet away when she looked up.

"T… Tony!" Lola exclaimed, a look of pure joy on her face, "You came back to me." Skipper winced, and in as gentle a tone as was possible corrected:

"No mom," his own heart sunk at the same time as his mother's expression, "It's just me." Lola's eyes by now were rapidly approaching the drink, though at the last minute she pulled up, glancing over her son with a poor attempt at a smile.

"I'm guessing you want something," She stated, "You haven't come to see me since you shipped out."

"Mom, I…!"

"I'd prefer it if you would skip the pleasantries, Will," Lola corrected firmly, with surprising clarity in her eyes, "He always understood that," with a weak, though genuine, knowing smile she continued, "Yes, I know exactly why you're here."

"K'walski's out of control mom," Skipper elaborated, "I don't know why he's doing this…"

"Did you ever consider asking?"

"I did. He shot at me."

"Did you shoot first?" Skipper's guilty glance confirmed the answer, "Well I'd shoot at you too," Skipper had to say, she had a point, "Why don't you tell me the whole story."

Skipper grudgingly recounted the story, often trying to soften the harsher details, though Lola saw through all of these. Not once did she flinch, and didn't stop Maurice when he tactfully removed the glass and emptied it.

"And you believe Rico on all of this?" Lola asked. She shook her head in the way Skipper often would when Private said something particularly naive, "These are old hands at this game, Will. Don't think for one minute either of them have or ever had anything but their own interests at heart."

"K'walski tricked him into murdering my father," Skipper countered with unshaken certainty, "We both want the same thing."

"That was according to Rico," the name, despite her obvious self-control, was pronounced sharper than the rest, "But how is his word more reliable than Kowalski's?"

"Because he didn't kill my best friend." Skipper answered sharply, though immediately regretted the inelegant tone.

"That might be so," Lola replied, though it was clear she was equally sceptical about what Skipper deemed to be fact, "But I'll tell you this: Kowalski always kept an eye out for me…"

"But…"

"His ego liked to pretend he didn't care, but I knew he did. Anyone who knew him knew he did."

"I…"

"Every mistake he made, and they were mistakes, he was trying to help us, but of course being, well, Kowalski, he got it all wrong, none of which was his fault. Apart from Doris..."

"He's not the man you knew, mom." Skipper interrupted darkly. Lola sighed. Everything was just going in one ear and out the other.

"Just try and put your daddy issues aside a moment and trust your gut."

"My gut says shoot."