"What is your name, Skipper?" the Squirrel crooned, "Why don't you tell me? It can't be that bad."
"I…" skipper stuttered through the torrent of thoughts that raged through his head, "My… My name's Hans. Hans Svenson."
"Very funny." The Squirrel snarled.
"…N… Nigel suspected you'd brainwashed Rockgut in 1972, when he worked it out that he'd taken the money from the bank from the CCTV footage…"
"Continue." The squirrel ordered, intrigued.
"… He created the identity of Skip… Skipper to infiltrate Rockgut's department," Skipper paused, for the first time looking up at the man, "I don't care what you do, just make sure my wife never knows…"
"You disappeared on a mission and never came back," the Squirrel reassured hurriedly, "then who was Hans?"
"My nephew Geert. He took over being me as a way of getting my attention, by messing up the mission."
"Then who is the Geert whom you encountered last year?"
"I don't know. I think Nigel sent him to hunt me down after I went rogue." Hans. Skipper couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this earlier. There was nobody or earth, or even on the moon, that could verify his actual identity, and if his head didn't hurt like a word he wouldn't say in front of Private, he'd find it pretty funny, "How… The HQ…"
"It's alright, my boy," The Squirrel looked down at the younger man as he switched on the lights, "I have what I want."
The team had set up camp in a field as by the time they'd escaped the sewers, without adequate transport there was no point in continuing. The android sat outside his tent (Rico had gotten his backpack back, though how he did this in the chaos, none could fathom) analysing the stars, glad to finally have access to the internet. He could hear the team discussing his actions, as well as how much longer he'd have to keep up the Skipper façade.
He didn't know whether he was happy to play the role, or despised it. It was so close to his dream: being Skipper. He'd always been told by Kuchikukhan, by the miscreants working for the Red Squirrel, and even by the team themselves, there was only one Skipper. He'd never met this Skipper, and he had to admit, his greatest fear was that, when he did, he wouldn't be nearly half the man this espionage community rising legend was supposed to be.
"Why do they all keep calling you Skipper?" was the first sign MORT made of his presence.
"Because I…" Skipper paused, "Because I am Skipper." He was Skipper. If someone asked him his name, that was what he would reply, right? But then he couldn't be Skipper. There couldn't be two Skippers.
"Then why are you getting de emaily?" the device asked. It was then the android realised MORT hadn't made a sound out loud.
"I…" The android searched for an adequate excuse: one of Kowalski's inventions had gone wrong and granted him the power to communicate via email? A bit sci-fi-ish, but then so was his mere existence.
"I won't tell anyone." MORT reassured.
"Thanks." The android replied, though he felt more comfortable actually talking.
"You've got de Flippy and de Lobsters song?" MORT asked his attention span for the deep and sentimental ended.
"Uh, yeah," the android answered, wondering just how many of his files MORT could see, "Doris gave it to me."
"May I copy it?" MORT asked politely.
"Go ahead, you can transfer it if you want, I'm not much of a music person."
The two artificial intelligence endowed machines sat in silence as MORT downloaded his file.
"I don't know what I should do, Marlene," the android could hear Kowalski sigh, "I can't do this leadership thing, I'm the options guy."
"The android seems to know what he's doing." Marlene stated.
"Would you let Blowhole lead? I can't take that kind of a risk with the team, but then I seem to have nearly gotten us all killed more times than him."
"Private…"
"I know he says that if I can't take it, he's more than happy to step up, but he's just so… young, naive. There's a lot of stuff we try to shield him from. Being leader…"
"I get it. He's not quite ready for the big bad world."
"He's only sixteen, Marlene. My greatest worry at that age was getting my creative writing homework in on time…"
Suddenly the android realised the connection had been broken.
"You…" the device stuttered. It was then the android realised what MORT had found.
"It's not what you think…" the android began to deny.
"You're going to… de bossy penguin…?"
"I…" The android was really starting to like the little device. It was probably the only other device he'd ever been able to relate to, "yes." The android though back over the plan. He'd contacted the Blue Hen while he was supposedly unconscious as soon as he knew his capture was inevitable, before Kowalski had shut him down with the emergency protocol, and made an agreement: She would call the team, making an offer to trade him for Skipper, thus insuring that he would be taken along on the mission. He'd originally asked for Skipper's location, but the Blue Hen had said she had no idea, and he did believe her. The only person apart from Rockgut, who was probably having some kind of paranoid breakdown by now, who could have any hope of finding the Red Squirrel was the team. In return, he'd deliver her Kowalski.
"But de bossy penguin…"
"I'm just as good, or better than him," the android frantically attempted to justify his actions, not only to MORT, but to himself, "I never did the things he did… there's a lot of people he hurt, they could finally rest. Private… Private I'd let him date that girl, Cupid, introduce him to his father, allow him to settle down and make some friends. I could fix Skipper's mistakes, 'cause I didn't make them, I can admit I was wrong…"
If an electronic device could cry, that would be exactly what MORT was doing.
"I like de bossy penguin…" MORT sniffled, "he helped me getting over de feet…"
"MORT, don't you understand? I have to be Skipper. Otherwise, I don't know who I am. And there's only one – can only be – one Skipper."
"Right, we've obviously missed Blue's deadline by two days," the android announced at 0700 the next morning, "However, considering the fact that the Red Squirrel…"
"The Red Squirrel is a myth." Kowalski interrupted, only to be shot with one of Skipper's frighteningly familiar glares.
"…has achieved his objective, we can assume that she will be willing to wait as long as we don't give the impression we are trying to double cross her."
"So, are we still going to the abandoned factory, Skippah?" Private asked.
"Ask Kowalski." The android replied.
"Wait, why are you asking de options guy?" Julian questioned. Skipper, as the team had started to call him, all but Kowalski, was surprised he was even up this early.
"Well, despite Kowalski's less than successful leadership yesterday, the mission is still very much his." Skipper replied.
"And what is de mission?"
"Classified."
"Oh I am to definitely be coming!" Julian exclaimed. Immediately Kowalski and the android's eyes met.
"Give me some options, Kowalski." The android hissed.
"Give him some more information." Kowalski replied in an equally hushed tone.
"What?"
"Make him think he's part of the mission, or that this is some kind of top secret training exercise. He'll blog if force him to go."
"Well don't let him go then."
"It's hard enough to keep my eye on you alone, never mind three others."
"Alright, Ringtail," the android addressed the tech mogul, "In the interests of the success of this mission, of which we are in no way excluding you, I must ask that you do not report any of this on the internet."
"But I am being de secret agent!" Julian protested.
"No, this is um… a routine training exercise."
"But it is still…"
"Routine training exercise. Top-secret version of capture the flag. Still, it's dangerous…"
"Be specifying de dangerous."
"There is an 83% probability that if you accompany us on this mission, you will never be able to dance again," Kowalski reported. Immediately Julian's expression changed, "and by blogging about this, you will be involving yourself in the mission, possibly even increasing the probability to 90%."
"I am not thinking I will be going on this mission," Julian barely squeaked. He then thought for a few seconds, that seemed to last hours for both the android and Kowalski, "But I will be requiring a representative to go, so I am not completely missing out on de awesomeness… MORT, you will be accompanying de penguins on de mission."
"Ringtail!" Skipper objected.
"Ah ah ah!" Julian held up his Julian tablet, a whole post on them pre written, his finger poised over the submit button, "Do not be being de hasty!"
"Not going to happen, Ringtail…" The android snapped, to the point of even standing protectively between MORT and Julian.
"Fascinating…" Kowalski muttered, "Subject seems to be fiercely protective of smaller AI devices."
"…This is a dangerous mission, no place for any of you, certainly not MORT."
"I am going to be posting now!" Julian threatened, lowering his thumb.
"One minute, Mr King," Kowalski pulled the android to the side.
"I am not going to take MORT…" the android began to protest. He hadn't known MORT long, but he'd been the only person who'd at least on some level understood him, and so felt the need to protect the small device.
"Yes you are."
"Over my dead…"
"If I have to," Kowalski motioned to the button, which could shut him down permanently, "Don't forget your place."
"Jealous much?"
"I miss my real Skipper," Kowalski then returned to the main group, "alright; we'll take MORT with us…"
"And I will personally keep an eye on him." The android added.
Skipper's hacking cough echoed through the damp cellar, in which the Squirrel had installed a barred cell. Stacy Badger looked on, trying to hide her concern for the man. She knew the lack of food and even water, as well as the mental pressures the Squirrel worsened on a daily basis, were more than any person could take. She'd told the Squirrel that if she didn't do something, he would at some point die, to which the Squirrel had replied that he would survive. The Squirrel seemed to think the fact he was Skipper made him invincible. She wasn't so confident.
Stacy removed a thermos from her bag before approaching the cell and opening the door.
"I…" She doubted the man could hear her, but she spoke none the less, "I brought some soup. I couldn't get to the medicine locker, but I'll keep trying." Even asleep, he looked so angry. Once upon a time, she'd called herself Sadie Chinstrap, though that was a long time ago. She could still remember the crush she'd had on the first person to arrest her and her sister (after dragging them half way across Siberia), and apparently, she had yet to get over it.
"Hey Stace, shift's up." Becky called down the stairs. Immediately Stacy rolled the thermos under the cot, and left the cell as hurriedly as possible.
"What's wrong, Stace?" Becky queried, noting her sister's less than usual expression, "We still on for that game of spontaneous dodge ball?"
"Totally," Stacy picked up her bag and began to walk up the stairs towards the exit, "See ya 'round sis."
Becky waited for her sister's footsteps to recede into semi silence, before opening her bag…
Skipper half smiled as he heard Becky leave the room. He'd always complained to Nigel that playing possum was cowardly, but he'd recently adopted the attitude of anything it takes to survive. Amazingly, despite previous events, he'd still held on to a few shreds of old-fashioned honour.
Now Becky had left he would be completely unguarded for approximately half an hour. He'd suggested to Becky, though in half delirium of course, that she should spend more time with her sister, which was impossible within the rules as they took opposite shifts. Skipper sat up, taking the penknife he'd taken from Stacy's pocket, and the antibiotic spray Becky had brought, and set to work on the cell door with the knife.
The door now open, Skipper exited the cell, downing half the soup (he really was hungry, but refusing to eat had been a convincing part of the act) as he climbed the metal spiral staircase. When he reached the door, he removed the antibiotic, and sprayed the mist so that the fingerprint of the previous user was revealed on the fingerprint scanner, which immediately glowed green, recognising the reconstructed fingerprint. Skipper had doubted this would work, until he'd heard Becky complain that the Squirrel refused to invest in better technology, and that they were stuck with the old optical fingerprint scanners without a live finger detector. In other words, all it needed was an image.
Now for the third part of the plan: a distraction, with the possibility of satisfying a revenge for a possible death of Manfridi and Johnson. A heart, a lung, and fifteen feet of intestine, a painful way to go. At least he was no longer clinging to the false hope that Manfredi and Johnson were out there somewhere, possibly trying to rescue him, the Squirrel had explained in no uncertain terms that they had merely been projected into his mind by something called 'The Control'.
Skipper removed the monitor/tracking device from his pocket. He'd cut it off his wrist as soon as he'd gotten the knife and set about using his meagre technical skills to guess the passcode and reset it to display the pattern and location he wanted it to. He now started a pre saved file and watched as his heartbeat slowed to a dangerous level, before tossing it back into his cell. Another thing the two badger sisters didn't know he knew was that both had hooked up the input from the monitor to their own cell phones. Skipper set off in the direction of what he was pretty sure was the exit. Hopefully, he'd be able to hear the fireworks. He figured it would take a good fifteen minutes for the Squirrel to sort them out.
"Um, Stace, there's a call I really need to take," Becky excused herself from the game, looking pale as a ghost.
"Yeah, game was getting old for me too." Stacy replied, removing her phone. Both sisters then took off at a brisk pace in opposite directions, though as soon as the other was out of sight, set off running back to their neglected post. They then took opposite routs back to the basement room. However, as one entered through the front door and the other the hidden passageway, they simultaneously sighted the empty cell.
"What did you do with him?" Becky accused, glaring at her sister.
"Me? You were supposed to be keeping watch!"
"Whose suggestion was it for us to have that game? Hm?"
"Uh, yours."
"No it wasn't!" Becky leapt at her sister, her nails like claws, "I get it now, you were planning all along to keep me distracted, so you could sell him out to Geert."
"Would you stop badgering me about one careless joke…?"
"Badgering? Again with the new name, always making fun of it. Stacy that is hurtful badger stereotyping…"
"Stop being silly."
"You think I'm silly?! Listen sister…"
Handprint: identified. Subject Skipper AKA Henderson, John AKA Douglas, Lincoln AKA Petey. The android had only been idly scanning the walls out of sheer boredom as the team marched through the building's seemingly endless passages, until he'd seen the handprint in the wet plaster. He checked to see that Kowalski and Marlene were still engaged in their heated debate about how much funding should be given to seemingly pointless scientific projects, before approaching the print. It was quite recent, the plaster was still wet and glowed slightly warmer than the rest of the wall in infrared. As he looked along the seeging off tunnel, there were similar warm patches in infrared, as well as a small smear of AB type blood. Skipper couldn't be too far off. The android turned off the current path and set off after Skipper, the team completely unaware of his actions until a shrill electronic voice called:
"He's found de bossy penguin!" Immediately the android took off running. He wasn't going to let Skipper get away, yet his only chance of getting away was to put enough walls and general interference between him and Kowalski's kill switch, "He is going to be killing him!"
Kowalski knew what the android was doing almost seconds after MORT sounded the alarm, and was about to hit the button when it was snatched from his hand by Private. It would take him longer to snatch it back than it would take the android to get out of range. He was about to chase after the fugitive when three shots were fired and Kowalski had to dive for cover. He reached into his own pocket only to find the aforementioned weapon gone.
"Elusive Higgs field." The scientist muttered, running down the empty passageway, only to find that it forked into two paths, which, only a few meters further on, forked into five on each branch. Further on from that, the paths wold fork more, looping around like an overcrowded ant farm. The scientist stood, attempting to guess the direction the android went, until the rest of the team caught up.
"Rico, give me a ball of string." The scientist ordered, taking the string from Rico's hand and setting off one of the passageways, only to return a few seconds later, diving off into a new one. This was kept up for almost five minutes.
Suddenly a cry of pain echoed through the passageways.
"We're too late…" Private gasped, and was about to run off into the rabbit warren of tunnels, when Kowalski pulled him back.
"If that android is anything like Skipper, there's nothing we can do," Kowalski stated grimly, though desperately trying to hold it together.
"But…"
"You'll only get yourself lost." A single tear trickled down Private's cheek, which he immediately wiped away.
"Slap me."
"What?"
"'s what Skippah would do for me being such a softie," The boy sniffled.
"You guys have really got to put a bit more faith in me." Skipper's familiar voice chuckled. There he stood, just on the border of the shadows, a slight limp, and
a makeshift sling supporting his left arm. Beside him stood the android, a strange, sad, or almost amused expression on his face, "I always come back, even if this time it took a little longer than usual.
"You want me to slap him for you?" the android asked.
"My right arm's just dandy, thank you very much." Skipper replied, slapping the boy across the face, "Sniffle time's over, Private. We've got about five minutes until they realise I'm missing."
I just had to put in that cliché ending, if only to mimic the first story. Anyway, sorry for the infrequent updates, I've been dividing my time between this and rewriting Do You Really Want to Know. I hope to make updates more frequent as the end of the story looms, but no guarantees.