"I believe it'ssss your turn to hossst annual the Jr. villainssss' get together," Savio commented, leaning casually against the brick wall of the converted warehouse the group was using as it's meeting place.

"Oh, really?" Geert asked genuinely surprised, though slightly annoyed at being interrupted from one of his increasingly frequent staring off into space moments, "By the way, we like to be called 'frenemys', not villains these days."

"You didn't remember," Savio criticized, ignoring Geert's correction. In his opinion, what you called a person didn't really matter, it was how effective they were that counted, "It'sss a week from now and you haven't even picked a venue. What am I sssupposed to tell the kidsss? They're already ssso gloomy now their parentsss are busssy with the project…"

"Since when do you care, Savio," Geert's eyes continued their grid search of the wall, though he knew every crack and crevice by heart, "Right, how many of them are there?"

"Well, there'sss all the sssenior lobstersss' kidsss, ssso that makesss 57. Then there'sss the older Ratsss' kidsss, and ssssome of the younger Ratsss. That makesss 127 in total."

"Hm…"

"Then sssome of the ssspecialists are under eighteen," Savio continued, "Barry…"

"I'm not a kid!" an angry voice shouted from another room.

"…perhapssss not Barry…"

"Hm…" Geert continued to stare off into space, despite the fact under normal circumstances, he would voice his agreement, not being far from Annual Jr. Frenemys Get Together age himself.

"… On sssecond thought, I don't think any of the otherssss would consssider themssselvessss…"

"Hm…"

"Are you even paying attention?" Savio snapped.

"Hm? Oh, yes. We were on to the Rats right?"

"Tell me Geert, why do you hate Ssskipper?" Savio asked, his expression slightly concerned. It was obvious why Geert was so distracted. He always was when he was working on a plan to destroy skipper, but not actively working on his revenge at that point in time.

"Don't you know?" Geert replied, no longer day dreaming. He didn't like where this conversation was headed.

"I do. Sssstill, tell it your way," Savio replied, "Just to ssssatisfy my own perssssonal curiossssity."

"Fine," Geert complied, with more than a note of sarcasm, "Skipper thoughtlessly murdered my uncle, and left me alive so I could be haunted by it for the rest of my life. Satisfied?"

"Hm… Interesting. I heard that your late uncle thoughtlessssly murdered Ssskipper's teammatesss, and left him alive ssso he could be haunted by it." Geert's fist stopped only a few inches from Savio's face, his façade of calm control and restraint, for the first time, broken.

"Who's side are you on?!"

"I'm not taking sidesss," Savio replied, giving no indication that Geert's violent reaction had unnerved him, which it hadn't, "Ssstill, I find it interesssting that you expressss your insssecurity as hatred of Ssskipper. I sssuppose it is your way of hiding from the fact that Hansss never consssidered you good enough. By defeating Ssskipper, though you ssseemed, until recently, to think you could do thisss by blind rage alone, you will sssucceed where you uncle failed, thussss proving yoursssself."

"That's not true." Geert growled, his body tense. It was now even more obvious than before how hard he was trying to remain in control.

"Hm, isssn't it?" Savio was the total opposite of Geert, calm and collected, a slight smile on his face, "Very well, why are you trying sssso hard not to expressss your frusssstration and hit me? Issss it becaussse your anger causssed you to fail a training exercissse, which you ssstill believe was the reason Hansss deemed you unworthy? Isss that why even when we were having ssso much fun exacting our pound of fleshhh from Sssskipper, you ssstill kept yoursssself so controlled? Becaussse you aren't worthy to ssshow emotionsss?"

Savio blocked Geert's expertly placed, if more sloppy than usual, punch. Immediately Geert realised what he'd done, and his hand returned to his side, fist still clenched.

"I suppose it gives you some kind of sick pleasure psychoanalysing me?" Geert demanded through clenched teeth.

"Yessss, it'sss a hobby of mine," Savio smiled sickeningly sweetly, "Although, you will be pleasssed to know, you lassssted longer than Hanssss."

"Well, if it isn't the almighty Doris," Barry greeted sarcastically. He waltzed into the near empty attack planning room, "I thought it was 'Little B' who was going to tell me phase two, since I completed phase one ahead of schedule."

"Barry, I have no idea what you and my brother's mysterious plan is," Doris replied, her voice echoing slightly in the high ceilinged room, "I wanted your advice on something personal. Little B, which for your information is a name that he would probably annihilate any person other than me he hears call him it, has asked me to play a part in his scheme. It would be… openly contradictory to Kowalski's existence."

"So you advice on your love life?" Barry concluded, taking a seat at one of the empty desks and putting his feet up on the computer. Doris winced slightly at the action, "Don't worry, babe, the almighty 6% mastermind hasn't wiped me off the face of the earth yet. So, this begs the million dollar question, why come to me?"

"You're the only person I can talk to who's more messed up than me," Doris replied. Barry's expression, which was normally in a perpetual sarcastic grin, darkened slightly.

"Believe me, Doris, you don't know messed up," immediately he returned to his annoying, 'know it all' smirk, "anyway, I don't think you're being truthful with yourself. I mean how many times have you betrayed the guy? I think you're caving in under pressure from your brother, and starting to doubt your decision to go moony eyed for one of the chaps on the right side of the law. It's either that, or you actually think Blowhole is gonna pull it off."

"Guilty as charged." Doris admitted, forgetting to specify which charge, as she was starting to feel slightly dizzy watching the teenager spin around on his chair.

"Offence no. 1 then," Barry stopped spinning, leaning slightly to the side, resting his elbow on the armrest and his head on his hand, "fill me in on the details."

"Little B keeps saying I should date someone… someone like us…"

"I see you've cottoned on to Geert's 'don't call us villains' campaign. Who's he suggesting?"

"First he suggested Clemson…"

"Obsessive and dull."

"Then recently he'd been suggesting Geert…"

"Obsessive and weird." Barry concluded, "Now, Miss Manipulated, these all sound like your brother trying to create strategic alliances."

"I know, it's just… what if he's right? What if I have to pick a side? I can only betray Kowalski so many times and… what if either one of them succeeds?"

"Hm…" Barry actually considered this for a few seconds, instead of immediately voicing a comment, "Your brother has a point, but you could just ask your brother if you can be left out of his schemes."

"I don't want to…"

"Chicken," Doris' expression changed to one of shock at the remark, but they both knew it was an accurate description, "Well, if you're too scared to do anything, all I can say is, stick with Kowalski. If you do decide to go with Dr Mammal fish's…"

"Don't call him that."

"…Blowhole's advice, well, you may very well spend the rest of your life stuck with Clemson. Anyway, apart from the whole revenge thing, Kowalski and the team are technically neutral now. In fact, you could say they're on the same side as us, faking your death to get out of Penguin technically makes you a rogue agent," Barry picked up a pen from the desk, tossing it at one of the lobster's heads. The lobster immediately turned around, glaring, but Barry ignored him, "By the way, if Geert can call him Dr Mammal fish, so can I."

Marlene had spent the day going over documents. Skipper had only started to get so distant since he started the case. If the answer to what was upsetting him was anywhere, apart from the letter, which was gone, it could only be in the files he got from Nigel.

"Red Squirrel

Real Name: Unknown

Threat Level: Top Priority

Hair Colour: Red

Distinguishing Marks: Eye patch

Country of Origin: Unknown

Other: An obsession with Agent Buck Rockgut. Otherwise, completely unpredictable.

Age: Unknown

Status: Unknown…"

Everything was all 'unknown'. This guy really was as slippery as Skipper complained. Still, Skipper must have seen something, read between the lines somehow.

"Is everything to do with Penguin always unknown," she mused.

"Not really, they usually have pretty extensive files on everyone," Kowalski answered, startling Marlene, who hadn't realised he was there. He began to sort through the disorderly pile of papers until he found four folders marked: Deceased. He opened the folder at the top of the pile.

"Agent B. Kowalski

Name: Bertram Kowalski

Rank: Agent (special abilities)

Potential Threat Level: High

Hair Colour: Black

Distinguishing Marks: Tattoo of Doris…"

"Um, right, that's me," Kowalski quickly covered that section of the page with his hand, before closing the file and leaving the room, presumably to somehow remove the information. Marlene opened the next file.

"Private

Name: Timothy Douglass (investigation suggested)

Rank: Junior Agent (special abilities indicated)

Potential Threat Level: High

Hair Colour: Black

Distinguishing Marks: None

Country of Origin: United Kingdom

Other: Extremely predictable

Age: 23 (investigation suggested)

Status: Deceased…"

Marlene knew Private's story from Skipper, so didn't read the whole file. Still, she was intrigued by Rico, so opened the file. Unlike the previous two files, there were gaps in the information, but the most important pieces were all there. However, Skipper's file was an entirely different story.

"Skipper

Name: Unknown

Rank: Unknown/Classified

Potential Threat Level: Extremely High

Hair Colour: Black (doubts as to real colour)

Distinguishing Marks: None

Country of Origin: Unknown

Other: Unknown (see psychoanalysis)

Age: Unknown (estimated between 25 and 30)

Status: Unknown…"

This Marlene found strange. She'd always thought it was just her he kept saying classified to. Well, she felt slightly better, at least she wasn't being left out of any hilarious secrets, right? Noticing Kowalski's presence once again, she looked up, though he answered her query before she had time to voice it:

"Don't ask me, he's never told me anything."

"Why do you think he's so secretive?" asked. She'd never liked knowing so little about Skipper, she still occasionally asked him his real name, but seeing the official files equally ignorant seemed to make the fact only more unnerving.

"Well, as you may have noticed, he is more paranoid than the average for his profession," Kowalski commented, "Although some have considered the theory he doesn't know himself, and simply does not wish to admit this."

"Like Denmark?"

"Well, he remembers multiple versions, often merging with the death of Manfridi and Johnson, but similar principle."

Marlene's attention was suddenly drawn to another file on the desk, similar to the teams' though it wasn't marked deceased. It was her file. Cautiously she opened it, but it was quickly snatched from her hand by Kowalski. However, she'd managed to catch a few of the words, probably the ones Kowalski hadn't wanted her to see, as she wished she hadn't.

"Kowalski?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think I love him?"

I can't seem to find the superscript, so if you're wondering about Private's strange name and age (Private is still 16, just to clarify), Skipper set him up with an alias that was old enough to join Penguin in the Spies Next Door.