Ex-Agent Nigel walked home from the grocery store, the effort it took to carry the bags reminding him all too well of his age. He could remember the days when he was in his prime, he and Rockgut fighting Professor Leopardseal. Back then, his world was exotic locations, dangerous missions, expensive martinis, and fast cars. Oh how he longed, even if for one day, to live that life again. Maybe that was why he found it so hard to understand Skipper's decision. It was during this train of thought that his eyes, which were just as keen as they'd always been, spotted the very person he had been thinking of being dragged from an ally by none other than the Vesuvius twins.

"I wish the fall had killed him," one of the twins commented glumly.

"Don't be stupid," the other objected, "Then we wouldn't get paid."

"Who cares about money?"

"We'd be breaking our contract."

"So what?"

"Too late now," the second one pointed to a black non-descript car that had just turned the corner onto the street, and was diving towards them. It stopped directly in front of the twins, and the door opened. Skipper was then pulled into the vehicle by someone inside, and it drove off. However, as it travelled past him, Nigel caught sight of the passenger, and knew skipper was in somewhat safe hands. Still, it warranted following up.

"So, we go in tonight or keep watching?" Kitka asked, casing the building across the street through a pair of binoculars.

"You do know we could just ask Rockgut." Skipper commented, checking the firing mechanism of his weapon.

"And where would be the fun in that?" Kitka walked back from the balcony and into the sparsely furnished room they had been using to stake out the building opposite.

"Hm." Skipper continued to check the weapon, but didn't object further. It had been far too long since he'd been on a real mission, and he'd yearned for one since the first day of his retirement, but he wasn't going to give Kitka the satisfaction of admitting she was right.

"See, I know exactly how you think," Kitka took the gun from his hand, which Skipper was obviously using to avoid conversation, "you know, you still haven't thanked me for saving your life. Again. Even you aren't immune to poison."

"If you know me so well, you'll know I'm never going to," Skipper replied dryly, "Anyway, this LEOPARDSEAL base should hold all the information we need on the other agents…"

"Always so serious." Kitka sighed melodramatically.

"I have to be." Skipper, who was now growing slightly uncomfortable with the limited distance between them and lack of distraction, turned his back to her, walking towards a chair on which much of their weaponry was laid out, desperate to find some excuse to end the less than professional conversation. Suddenly he felt the thin leather strap of Kitka's binoculars around his neck, and before he could do anything about it was pulled backwards until there was no longer any space between them. Familiar lips brushed against his ear.

"You don't have to, not anymore," Kitka's gloved hand forced his head to the side, and kissed him hard on the lips. At first Skipper fought back, but Kitka had an iron grip on his arm, "She never really loved you." Kitka did have a point. Skipper relaxed, no longer fighting, though Kitka's grip never weakened. After all, they did have a challenge to see who could successfully surprise attack the other first and if she let go, there were a hundred ways Skipper could take her down. Suddenly Kitka pulled away, and like a cat leapt to the edge of the balcony, zip-line in hand, "Mission first, Skippy."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Skipper stated allowing himself a hint of a smile, and followed Kitka towards the target.

The view from the top of the Consolidated Amalgamated building was spectacular, though he'd never noticed it before. Skipper liked to look down at the people below, who looked like ants in the world's most chaotic ant farm. It made him feel like a spectator, still able to observe from a safe distance, yet detached from its many problems, though he knew at some point he would have to go back down there and face them. Skipper just liked to pretend he didn't. He looked up from the streets below. The sun seemed to shine brighter in the early morning sky, and buildings below didn't seem such a dull shade of grey. It was a feeling Skipper hadn't experienced in such a long time that at first he didn't recognise it and wondered if it was merely a side effect of the poison: he was happy. Truly happy, not just faking it to further the mission. In fact, it was a lot like the old days with Manfridi and Johnson, the missions always on his terms, and without the stress of remaining suspicious of everyone around you, just in case the person you trusted most in the world was only waiting to stab you in the back. His heart still ached when he thought of the team, or Marlene, but over the last couple of weeks he'd been with Kitka, it hadn't hurt quite so bad. Maybe he could live with this.

"… I followed your instructions to the letter," skipper heard the tinny reproduction of Kitka's voice over the speaker of his mobile phone. He'd actually forgotten he'd bugged the rooms when he first got there, to the point at which he hadn't remembered to keep his phone on silent. He immediately plugged in a pair of earphones lying on the desk, and sat down on the bed, listening to the conversation. He didn't exactly have anything else to do; sure, it sounded slightly suspicious, but it was probably just circumstantial, " you need to keep your part of the bargain. You said, after you got control of Skipper, you'd let me keep him," Immediately the idyllic image of life Skipper had lived only a few moments ago shattered, returning him to the cruel reality. Friends, and even lovers, were just enemies who had yet to reveal their hand, "I won't let you just turn around and say someone else bid higher…"

That was all Skipper could bear to hear. He grabbed his bag, which he'd left packed with everything he'd need, back when he first arrived; when he wasn't too molly coddled to plan for the contingency in which Kitka was also working for LEOPARDSEAL. He then checked that the hallway was clear, before slipping silently out the door and edging his way towards the exit. At that moment, running down the stairs three at a time, looping the security camera's footage as he passed, he felt as if whatever was left of his battered heart had been ripped from his chest. But he didn't have time for that now. There were only two other people he could go to now, and as much as he'd been putting off the visit, he could definitely trust them: Manfridi and Johnson.

"Ironic, isn't it," The first of the Vesuvius twins commented, waiting for their target to step in front of the window. Kitka was the last name on their list, "the robot pays us, to be paid by Kitka to go find her boyfriend, and now we kill her. I wonder if we'll get to kill him too?"

"That's not irony, stupid," the other contested, "anyway, he's a robot, we can't kill him."

"Well, maybe we can…"

"Target in range." The second twin reminded, pointing to Kitka, who was stood directly in the centre of the floor to ceiling window.

Kitka stumbled backwards in surprise as the glass in front of her shattered. The projectile hit the wall behind her, the rope trailing after it sailing only a few feet above her head. Immediately she dived out of the way, as two bodies slid down the line, smashing down the rest of the glass and slamming into the wall. This was followed by a third, who disconnected himself from the line before he hit the wall, landing directly in front of her.

"Ex-Agent Nigel at your service ma'am," he introduced with a courtly nod, before motioning to the Vesuvius twins, still suspended from the line by their manacled wrists, "These young miscreants just attempted to kill you."

"You'll never get away with this!" one of the Vesuvius twins shouted.

"We've got lawyers!" the other concurred, "We'll be out before you can verify our identities."

"Alright, let's get them down to HQ," Kitka took control, as she always did in stressful situations as a bizarre way of coping..

"Not quite yet," Nigel objected, "we're going to play a little game of I ask questions, and you answer them on pain of arrest, to see just what kind of dastardly plot you've been allying yourself with, before I take you down to HQ."

"Believe us now, Skipps?" Manfridi asked. The three teammates were once again gathered at the ancient safe house.

"Yes." There was no need to ask skipper how he'd come to his conclusion. His face was pale, his shoulders sagged as if they bore the weight of the world, and his almost deathly stare was a good indication of how little the world meant to him.

"We can't tell him the rest now," Johnson hissed. The younger 'brother' seemed unable to grasp the concept that Skipper could hear him.

"I can take it," Skipper stated, "We need to stop LEOPARDSEAL."

"Are you sure?" Manfridi asked warily.

"Does it look like I can afford to keep putting it off?"

"Alright," Johnson took a deep breath before continuing, "Skipper, meet the third member of the team." the lights in the base switched on, revealing a man leaning against one of the concrete pillars that had previously been concealed in shadow.

"Hello, Skippar," the Dane greeted, approaching skipper, a cordial smile on his face, "long time no see."