"Please, just listen!" Kowalski pleaded over the phone, "It's not me!"

"Girl trouble," Skipper commented aloud, though was ignored.

"…Whatever you've heard, it's not me… Yes, go ahead and investigate… I promise you, it's not me! Those nine years were longer for me than for you, and I wouldn't just throw my life away after that… Look, if I'm lying go ahead, hunt me down and turn the contents of your lab lose on me… I'll tell you once I find out who it actually is… I love you too."

"I do not envy you," Skipper laughed, "If I can testify as to your lack of social life equalling a lack of other girlfriends, I'm happy to."

"How much of that did you hear?" the scientist asked, looking about as embarrassed as possible.

"I've got the gist of it," Skipper smirked, "Doris thinks she's being cheated on."

"Yeah," the scientist lied, "You know, Rico wants you to sign a transfer order for a rather large quantity of explosives and other weapons. He wants them moved to an abandoned building somewhere near Hoboken. He says he wants them moved there as an emergency stash. I don't believe him, especially because he and his sworn enemy are working together."

"Well I'm just glad they're doing something other than destroying our rec room in another one of their showdowns," Skipper commented as the scientist replaced the phone, "show me the order and I'll sign it. Good luck with your girl."

Skipper grabbed his coat and had just started up the ladder when Private charged into the room, almost knocking Kowalski's clipboard out of his hand.

"Where are you going?!" the youngest member of the team demanded retrieving his own coat.

"Where are you going?" Skipper countered.

"I'm coming with you."

"You don't even know where I'm going."

"You haven't told me, but I'd still like to come." Private obviously wasn't going to be swayed and Skipper allowed the barely a recruit to follow him out of the HQ, though he was curious as to why Private had demanded that he come.

"I've arranged to meet some acquaintances," Skipper answered. Private knew that meant contacts, "I'm already late; we'll talk on the way."

"Ringtail, I want this to be a real party," Skipper ordered as he inspected the Copacabana. He really needed to impress these people, "Go all out." A gigantic grin spread across Julian's face and Skipper began to regret his words.

"Skippah, would you please stop running around like a headless chicken and listen!?" Private pleaded.

"Rico killed Barry because he was going to sell his identity to the highest bidder," Skipper answered disinterestedly, "and pinned the murder on K'walski by planting the gun from the evidence locker."

"You seem awfully calm about cold blooded murder!" Private continued to protest.

"In two years you will be too," was Skipper's reply, "The point is, nobody but us knows he's dead."

"But Skippah, these people were all with the Penguins. They'd all have known Barry, and they'd certainly recognise you."

"A person can change a lot in six years," Skipper answered, "and the last time someone here saw me I was ten."

"But they can't get twenty years younger!"

"So I'm the new Barry who gets to break the news, that will keep them interested. I just needed the name to arrange the meeting."

"You've got some nerve," Darla Bacall drawled, waving away an eager to please Mort, "you know the boss has a contract out on Rico."

"Who says I'm here on behalf of my boss?" Skipper answered, "New Barry, new rules."

"Not convinced." A wiry man with cold snake-like eyes hissed.

"May I remind you that I have my all my predecessor's files, which is why you are still listening." Skipper countered, and by the discontented murmur he got, things were going well. Hopefully, he could trade an imaginary partnership for some very real information.

"My apologies for my lateness," a Spanish accented voice announced and Skipper spun around to see the end of his charade incarnate. It wasn't the man he recognised as Antonio, some of the Penguin's newer blood, which spelled doom for Skipper, but the woman who accompanied him. Cupid Kitka was currently staring aghast at the undercover agent, and after a few seconds of close examination, shouted out:

"Private!"

"Yes, fresh out of our favourite special agent's spy academy, man of a million faces and all that," a familiar English voice announced, brushing past the astonished girl and her less than trusting date, "He probably had you for a while; it's something they did when they redesigned basic that makes them so good at impressions," Private, swinging a golf club of all things like a walking stick, collar turned up with a bright red bow tie finishing off the look paraded fearlessly before all manner of weapons pointed at him and Skipper, "this will be the third Barry I've bumped off this week. By the way, the name's Tux."

"We meet again, Mr Tux," The gunslinger/mini golfer known only as the Amarillo Kid narrowed his eyes, "move out of the way so I can collect my million."

"Oh, a contract is it?" Mr Tux replied, "Well that changes everything, doesn't it," Skipper, much to his own amazement found the weapon he'd intended to try to make a desperate get away with removed from his hand.

"Private, what are you doing!" Skipper hissed. Private, however, gave no indication that he recognised Skipper, in fact acting as if he intended to collect the reward himself.

"You know I offed a 'Private' this morning," Tux announced coolly, "You all sure this is the Private your boss was talking about?"

"Yeah, this ones the right height and build, even if he is a man of a million faces," the leading Bacall sister answered, "Now move out of the way and maybe me and my girls will let you go."

"Alright then, as far as I understand it," Mr Tux announced, "the contract goes to whoever fires the fatal shot, dead or alive, am I correct?" Skipper was now starting to get slightly worried. Maybe Private had an evil twin, but if it was Private, Skipper was nervous anyway. He honestly didn't think the kid had it in him to even act so ruthless, "Am I also correct in my knowledge that your boss is one of the foremost authorities on ballistics in this country, and so would be able to tell who shot who?"

"He's up to somethin'," the Amarillo Kid whispered to the person next to him, "I know that tone."

"Well when you put those together, if I was to hypothetically dispose of your Private myself, then none of you would win the contract," Mr Tux smiled deviously as his audience lowered their weapons.

"That kid's the fastest draw I've ever seen," Amarillo whispered to his new 'buddy' as he lowered his own weapon, "Besides me o' course. He'd get our target before we get near him."

"I can tell none of you are in a very good mood to make a proposition to," the mysterious Mr Tux announced, "so I'm going to take 'Private' with me as insurance."

"You do realise we are better off hoping the Kid is wrong and taking our chances?" Savio hissed, "I assume you are the real replacement of the traitor, and will just take him back to Rico."

"Wrong," Tux motioned to Skipper to start moving towards the door and Skipper mouthed something along the lines of 'are you crazy?' back at him, "Mr Tux works for no one, and I quite obviously want something from you worth more than one contract."

"Mr Tux?" Skipper inquired once they were certain they weren't being followed.

"Something I left behind a long time ago," Private answered grimly and Skipper didn't press further. Some things belonged in the past, as Skipper was well aware.

"Good job," Skipper complemented, "I might put you up for Private First Class soon."

"What was it Nigel said about the heat of the moment?" Private chuckled, "You know, before all this, I had my heart set on trodding the boards?" then the boy's face once again darkened, "I don't suppose there's something you want to tell me, Skippah?"

"I can't give you any hints about the test." Skipper answered, looking slightly bewildered.

"You were the one who took over the Rats, weren't you!" Private shouted loud enough to make a scene if the street wasn't so quiet; fighting back the tears that threatened to emerge and prevent Skipper from taking him seriously.

"Whatever gave you that idea?!"

"They all said there was a contract out on Private, right?"

"I guess."

"Skippah, doesn't other K'walski refer to you as Private?" Private questioned. Skipper still seemed determined to act as if he had no idea what Private was talking about, "What I'm trying to say is, they were after a Private. They had a description, and it didn't match me."

"I don't see what you're getting at," Skipper answered warily, "It didn't match me either or they would have recognised me earlier."

"But Skipper, you said the last time one of them saw you, you were ten," Private continued, "and they said they had a description which matched you. The contract might be out on you, not me."

"I don't know what you're trying to accuse me of apart from being a good arch enemy."

"I always thought your disagreement would be more of a personal vendetta. If I agreed with revenge and you betrayed me, I probably wouldn't put you in the same category as Jones and allow anyone who wants money to exact my revenge," Skipper was now starting to look a bit more thoughtful, "Unless, you turned it into business, in which case, if I made decisions like this based on mathematical calculations, there would probably be an exception."

"That's it!" Skipper suddenly exclaimed, much to Private's confusion.

"That's what?"

Skipper could hear the Rats in the next room shouting and generally expressing their loyalty to the Penguin who had stepped in and taken the lead. Then the shouts died down to a murmur, in anticipation of their soon to arrive leader. Suddenly the room went quiet. Skipper grimaced. That was his cue.

"The operation is moving along beautifully," The Penguin started to speak, "The Sewer Rats were the best. I emphasise were," there was a murmur of discontent. Everyone in that room was well aware of their unexpected fall from power, "But we're going to be even better now…"

"Hands up!" one of the rats stood behind him shouted, and the Penguin spun around as he was alerted to the presence of his subordinate. Skipper made no move to follow the order, looking on calmly at the no longer mysterious leader of the rats, "I don't know how he got past us, boss, but…"

"I've got a message for your boss," The party crasher announced.

"Yeah," the Rat smirked, "sure you…"

"At ease," the man who commanded the attention of the entire room ordered, "he is quite right. Now if you excuse me gentlemen…" The two penguins left the main room and a bunch of very confused rats behind them, stepping out into the smaller room Skipper had entered from.

"What are you doing, Jones!" the Skipper exclaimed, glaring at his superior as soon as he was quite sure nobody else was listening. The ex-Private had thrown him off the trail by reporting the information himself, even turning him on his own team. That was probably why he hadn't suspected him; he'd never thought the outwardly gentle Englishman would go to such lengths. He'd worked it out as follows: neither he nor Private had been recognised when they entered, and it wasn't until 'Mr Tux' had hinted that he might be in disguise that they had become certain he was the Private they were after. That left only one 'Private' who happened to be around his height, "I want answers!" Skipper finally snapped when nothing was said. Jones paused, carefully considering his words.

"I'll do whatever it takes to save you." He stated plainly.

"And I'm fine with that, as long as it doesn't destroy you," Skipper answered and just to give his point more emphasis, continued, "as well as the entire city."

"I can control it." Jones answered confidently. Skipper shook his head.

"That's what they said. And I thought you were supposed to be the naive idealist," Jones obviously still wasn't sold, "So it's not good enough for your entire team, and almost you, to make it clear they're perfectly capable of being corrupted, you need to do it yourself. Or are you just trying to learn to think like the enemy?"

"Skipper, it's different…"

"You take over a gang, you work your way up to the big leagues then you join the bad guys…"

"No Skipper, the whole thing will be on my terms!" Jones snapped. Skipper just couldn't appreciate the fact he'd planned the whole thing out from every angle and was well aware of the risks. He'd even set safeguards in place should things go wrong, even to the point of allowing the two Ricos to wire the whole base to self-destruct remotely if he went out of control, "The first part is right, but I don't join him, he joins me, or I destroy him. Call it Operation: Join or Be Destroyed"

"This country already has an army, Jones," Skipper countered, "If you want to use the brute force tactic you don't need to build your own."

"Skipper, I'm not going to let you destroy yourself…"

"If you go through with this, I won't need to. If you went over to the other side," Skipper stopped, "If they made me hunt you down, I'd have lost almost as much as K'walski. You and the team are pretty much it, you know. And if I go crazy too, then we'd have three crazy villains running around New York. Not pretty."

"Alright PJ," Jones finally admitted, his imagination's rendition of the idea being something he wanted to forget as soon as possible, "You win."

"Good."

"It's not an unconditional surrender."

"I'm not your boss; I can't reinstate your Uncle Nigel."

"I want to keep the Rats going," Jones warned, "I'm happy to employ any security measures you recommend and I will give my department explicit instructions to use any means necessary to neutralise me should the worst happen, but I want to do this alone for the simple reason that I would not drag another person down with me. I can't see any other option than this."

"You might have survived once but you weren't the one who got the absolute power. I can't let you go through with this." Skipper refused, "You do know why we work in teams?"

"I'm not trying to save the world, just you." Jones half pleaded.

"If you don't shut this down, I have no qualms about shutting you down now."

Jones' fist clenched and he seemed to stiffen a moment, almost as if he was afraid.

"I'd like to see you try."

"I hope you heard what you just said. It sounds a lot like something somebody else said, and also implies that your safety precautions would be useless," Skipper answered in a dangerously insubordinate tone, "If you're desperate enough to turn me against my own team, even if you claim you're trying to 'save me', I have my doubts about how much the power now means to you." Skipper could see this had finally had the effect he'd been looking for on his superior, and was glad he was not far enough gone that he had been able to see it.

"Skipper, think it would be wise of me to take a brief absence from the Department." The ex-Private answered in a humbled tone. That was when he saw the fleeting glimpse of a smile on the second Private's expression, but not the smile he'd wanted to see. Cautiously he walked towards the larger room, though doing so as briskly as would not arouse suspicion.

"What are you doing?" Skipper demanded.

"Shutting this down." Jones answered.

"I think we can wait a while for that," Skipper answered hurriedly, "There may still be some use…"

"King!" Jones shouted and the gigantic bodyguard that had accosted Skipper entered the room, "Pass the word to those who it may concern, Contingency 1. They all know their jobs and I want total secrecy."

"Contingency 1?" Skipper asked, "You aren't…"

"Setting it up to collapse from the inside," Jones answered, "for all your talk about it being dangerous, I think perhaps you should have cast a more careful glance over your own plan to use the unwelcome competition to lure enemies including Blowhole, Clemson, and K'walski into the open all at once."