"Skippah?" Private poked his head into the main room of the HQ.

"You alright Private?" Skipper questioned. The boy's permanent cheerful smile was all but extinct and his pale face and dark circles under his eyes denoting his lack of sleep exaggerated this.

"Couldn't be better," the boy replied, and the smile returned, but Skipper couldn't help but ignore the fact Private's earlier comment about wanting to become an actor might be relevant, "I was up a little late working on my final report."

"Jones still thinks I'm 'omitting crucial details'?"

"I suppose so," Private answered hurriedly, "I've got a rather unusual request, but it would be quite helpful in my report."

"Shoot."

"Thanks, but um, would I be able to have your notes from…" he raced out of the room and returned a few seconds later, "1962 to 1965?"

"I guess so, if I can find them," Skipper answered, "why do you want them?"

"Oh, combat analysis," Private lied, "I believe when you were ten you had to make a complete list of all the tactics and contingencies you were supposed to memorise."

Skipper watched as Jones approached alongside another man, short with shifty eyes, thinly disguised by an aloof attitude, carrying a black briefcase, several papers and a pen. He'd been conversing with the doctor who'd just given him a summary of Kowalski's condition when he'd been told his superior had passed the first security barrier.

"Skipper, this is Mr Du Voleur," Jones introduced, looking from skipper to racoon looking man, "He's representing Kowalski."

"We've met before," the lawyer replied in a thick French accent, extending his hand, "You were a little shorter, of course, but I never forget a face."

"I want you to tell Skippah what you've just told me, he's head of security," Jones answered.

"Alright," Du Voleur answered, "My boss is writing a full confession of every one of his alleged deeds from forging papers for him and the late Mr Grant when he was fifteen to… well, you shall have to meet his price to hear the more recent occurrences."

"That's impossible!" Dr Melman interrupted, "My patient's been unconscious since surgery, you can't have spoken to…"

"That brings me to the second item on my agenda. My client also thinks the doc's poisoning him. I think a more neutral examination would prove he's nowhere near as close to death's door as the doctor has…"

"Now wait a…!"

"I believe you are married Doctor. Your wife is a Miss Gloria Melman; she was a close friend to Miss Blowhole and has repeatedly announced that she believed my client was responsible for the 1966 Blowhole homicides. That brings me to my next point: he wants his own medical team brought in."

"I've got a question," Skipper interrupted, "the doctor says he's got an alright chance of pulling through, why would he hang himself?"

"Oh," Du Voleur smirked, "me and Special Agent Jones may have come to an agreement."

Private watched as the group dispersed, tying his fingers into complex knots. Finally, Du Voleur rounded the corner.

"Archie," Private whispered, pulling the man aside as he passed, "I suppose I've already consented to a sort of righteous murder, but to ruin an innocent's career…"

"The boss thought you'd say that," Archie 'the Archer' Du Voleur, once a police officer exposed for corruption by X, hired in recent years from his shady private detective business into the Penguins, and now Kowalski's official second in command replied, discarding his continental accent, "We ain't so sure the doc ain' poisoning him, but if he ain' a simple blood test will prove I'm lyin'."

"Oh, alright, but, is it true he's regained consciousness? Do you think I'd be able to talk to…?"

"Boss said you'd be havin' second thoughts by now. He said this might change your mind." Archie handed him an envelope. Private took one look at the photograph inside, turning pale and then slightly green before putting it back and hurriedly handing it to the other man, "Mind changed?"

"Yes," Private replied seeing a glimmer of hope that he might not have to go through with the plan, "But is it true that he might pull through? That it's not really as bad as…?"

"I got no idea kid; I'm just as worried about the boss as you. I'm only following contingency 237."

"It doesn't sound like a contingency plan."

"If there's one thing I've learned about the boss, don't question him. He knows what he's doing. You brought the tape recorder?"

"Yes."

Archie left the nervous Private but was soon accosted by another man who'd once held the same title.

"I've made my decision," the worried man spoke, "are you sure this confession will…"

"It'll take out just about all organised crime on eastern seaboard, guaranteed," Archie confirmed, "And all for the small price of an airline ticket to South America, 24 hours head start and a certain parcel. You know how we want him delivered?"

"I don't want to hurt Skippah…"

"Boss says you can do that or we can break his arms and legs. Your choice, we just want him alive, not that I think he'll stay that way too long."

"Alright."

"…As a contingency in the case that the officials do not believe the accepted scenario execute between three and five of the points mentioned in tactic 4427 (these will be in your September 1964 notes). Use a similar technique to lure the target into the open…"

Private moved aside the large leather-bound book entitled Probable Scenarios Volume One, in which Kowalski had with eerie accuracy predicted roughly his current scenario, though it was written quite obviously for Skipper over fifteen years ago. He opened Skipper's notebook dated September 1964. It gave him some perspective of just how much Kowalski had staked on Skipper; some of the other scenarios hadn't been quite so depressing, several even humorous, and at least three of them were plans to transfer the entire empire to Skipper and another would divide it in two and give Skipper half.

"Tactic 4427, for use in the scenario in which you are in need of multiple suspects.

Ideally find someone with plausible motive who often frequents the area/will be there without your intervention. Otherwise, or if the target is a specific person, give them a reason to be there without disclosing any information regarding your identity or the operation. Examples:

If you have personal information on the target, make it clear to them that a fabricated identity has it and arrange to have them meet this person at the scene of the proposed area in which they must be present…"

Kowalski had just finished what outwardly looked like a blender and two colanders, but, if it worked – which of course it would – would switch the minds of two or more persons without any irreversible damage. Suffice to say, without going into technical details, he was in a pretty good mood.

"K'walski?" the scientist heard his English teammate question timidly, followed by a knock on the door.

"Private!" the scientist beamed, ushering the boy inside, "you're just in time to witness my new invention…"

"I just got this letter," Private explained truthfully, but though he hadn't opened it, he knew all too well what was inside, "It's addressed to you."

"That can wait," Kowalski answered, dismissively placing the letter on an already over cluttered workspace, "Now, if Rico is willing to participate as well, we can start with the first test…"

"It might be from Doris." No sooner had Private said the magic word, the scientist had already tore the letter open and began to read its contents. Private inwardly winced, and a split second later Kowalski paled, placing paper in his lab coat.

If there was any doubt about the authenticity of the letter it was immediately quashed upon comparison of the neat signature with several other examples of the same handwriting.

"Private," the scientist chose his words with care as he picked up his clipboard and pencil in preparation to leave, "I'm afraid I'll have to postpone that test. Do you know during which hours I'm allowed to speak to…? I mean interrogate… no sorry, slip of the tongue…" he stuttered nervously, "I mean…"

"Visiting at the Aquarium hospital should be in about an hour and a half," Private answered innocently, "Why? Have you got a lead?"

"If the target's record is immaculate or they have nothing you want or nothing that would control their location at a specific time, physical intervention may be necessary. It is of course not ideal as it will almost certainly disclose your identity even if you do so little as to keep their attention for an extended time. The objective for this is to prevent the target's location from being verified by any persons during the specific times…"

Private was feeling almost physically sick, and not too long ago he had been. Even in the days when Mr Tux was in control he'd never done something like this, and certainly not with so much meticulous preparation.

"You called me here?" Jones questioned. Private whirled around, startled. Jones frowned slightly, "You seem rather jumpy. Is everything alright?"

"Just dandy," Private replied, using the expression Skipper often did though immediately regretted it. Skipper used that expression only when he was actually anything but 'just dandy', "I wanted to show you something, outside the HQ," the boy led his superior back out of the building and onto the street.

"I don't see anything out of the ordinary."

"Give it a second," Private answered, "Here, I'll get K'walski's infra-red glasses. I'll be right back, just stay there." Private shuddered at the faint sound of the almost silent strike that knocked his superior out, most importantly leaving no mark that could prove the abduction had taken place. He took comfort, however, in the fact his superior would not be harmed, merely driven around until it was over.

"A'right, give us three minutes then stop looping the security feed." Private heard Archie's familiar voice order.

"Percival Nelson," Private explained showing identification to the guard. He received a nod and he walked nervously through the metal detector in the prison hospital. Naturally it went off, "Sorry." Private apologised, removing his standard issue side arm as he entered. The item was taken from him, and he proceeded into the hospital without search.

He'd walked only a few feet further, when he was approached by his contact.

"Percy?"

"Yes," Private replied, "Archie?"

"Yeah," Private removed the brown paper parcel he'd been given the other day from his pocket and went to unwrap it, but was swiftly prevented, "You crazy? In front of all these people?" Immediately Private saw the logic and replaced the object in his pocket, "I was told to remind you, make sure you wear gloves, don't touch anything and nothing gets left behind that you wouldn't expect to be there already. Take inventory of the contents of your pockets, buttons, everything. Take your time to check the area afterwards, you've got half an hour and if you need a distraction you remember the signal."

"Thanks," Private replied walking briskly in the direction of the hospital room reserved for The Aquarium's most dangerous inmate. He just wanted to get this over with.

Private initially started off at a brisk pace, however as he approached the door he began to slow. At the last minute he pulled away, rushing into another corridor where Dr Alice as she was known to him, the head of Kowalski's private medical team, was retreating out of the wing.

"Do you think he's going to live?" Private questioned. He was honour bound to carry out the last wish of a dying man, but otherwise…

"I'm surprised he's still alive," the doctor replied insensitively, "And he isn't conscious either, if that's what you're gonna ask. Now you get on with your job and I'll get on with mine." With that the woman left the room, and private had no choice but to walk back towards the room.

Private slowly and cautiously opened the door, careful not to make the slightest sound. He knew the whole area was empty, as Alice had demonstrated, Kowalski's medical team had been careful to come up with various excuses for not being witnesses. Entirely accurate to Kowalski's predictions, his victim was seated at the foot of the bed, tossing a knife up and down, then pocketing the object again, then repeating the cycle as he examined the complicated life support machinery, wondering how to make disabling it off look like a malfunction. Apparently Private must have made some kind of noise, as even before he spoke Private could somehow feel his presence had been sensed.

"Hey, kid," Rico greeted, not moving an inch. Private stood what seemed like hours before the two words that had been on his trembling lips from the start found their way past the tip of his tongue.

"I can't…" Private stuttered. Private could feel the weight of the metal object that had been in the brown paper package in his pocket, "I can't…"

"'t wasn' hard for me," Rico recounted with the same hollow tone his last sentence had been spoken in, "but then 'ey al'ays said there was somethin' wrong wi' me. Y'know, like the kid parents woul' always tell their kids t' keep away from," Private compulsively tore the remainder of the parcel in to smaller and smaller pieces, each one landing on the floor at his feet, but found no distraction from his situation, "Y'probably know why 'm here. Seemed pretty convenien' back in Hoboken for one 'f the guards to jus' leave 'is newspaper talkin' 'bout 'walski's confession jus' outside m' cell. 's a lot of stuff I can' let 'walski say 'bout me."

Private's hand went to his pocket, and his fingers enclosed around the cold steel of Kowalski's composite revolver, but even the memory of the photograph couldn't force him to pick it up. Possibly Mr Tux objected to this too, as for once Private's imaginary alternate personality was nowhere to be found. Even with the knowledge that if he followed the child's play steps to the letter, it would be pulled off with the certainty and efficiency that had terrorised New York so long, his arm somehow didn't feels strong enough to move from his side.

"Don' think I coul' stop ya," Rico spoke, "but y're pointin' that at the wrong guy," Rico nodded in the direction of his unconscious ex-teammate.

"Princess Self Respectra…" But Princess Self Respectra had never been in a situation where she'd been forced to take a life, or to choose which one to take.

"Y'know what happened t' Eggy? Back in '53, Pri'ate was tryin' to get Ma'lene's murder t' stick ta 'ipper. I' was the only allege' murder he actually didn' commit, so 'e ha' no alibi, 'nd the kid knew it. We' kidnapped th' Duncan boy 'cause we were low on cash, but 'walski thought he could ge' 'ipper an alibi. Usin' one 'f 'is crazy untested inventions 'e'd convince the kid that 'e'd seen 'ipper on the other si' 'f town the night Ma'lene was shot. 'walski couldn't care less 'bout 'ipper, he jus' wan'ed a guinea pig, so 'e tol' 'ipper it was safe. The thing ma'functioned, and the kid died. 'walski was more upset 'bout the machine."

Private knew that if there were two people in the city who deserved to die most, it was those two. He couldn't shoot an unarmed man, and certainly not an unconscious one, but then he'd promised, and if he left one of them alive the other one's gang would come after him. Private automatically pushed that thought to the back of his mind. How could he think of himself?

"'e knows 'bout Doris. 's a decent chance he pull' through, and 'f that happen' he won't give up a' agent like you. Might make y' kill someone else, ma'be Will."

Private stared at the metal object in his gloved hands.