A/N: Hi everyone; thanks so much for all the comments and reads. A lot of life happened since the last update, including a move, new job, and a serious case of overthinking. These episodes are very much a WIP, and things keep developing on their own. I've decided to post as they're written, instead of writing them all and then publishing. So if there are inconsistencies in later chapters, please let me know and I will correct them. But I realized if I try to get everything perfect initially, it'll never get posted. Plus let me know if you like/hate the historical back information. My goal is to keep this fun, but also kind of a history lesson, because I find it such an intriguing, under-appreciated period in time.
Thanks for reading all this. Enjoy the next episode!
Paternal Egg-stinct
It was a beautiful day in Central Park. Skipper had his team out in the park working on their surveillance skills. He had designed some type of scavenger hunt that required dexterity, speed, and agility.
"Hey guys!" Marlene appeared from a path with a young child in tow.
"Marlene," Skipper greeted suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"
"It's a public park." Marlene rolled her eyes. "And we were looking for his mother, but this little guy won't tell me anything."
The boy in question looked no older than five, scruffy blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Patchwork clothes revealed several prior mending jobs, and the red puffy eyes meant he'd been crying recently.
"Marlene, we are training. We are an elite fighting force. Not nannies." Skipper crossed his arms, expecting that to be the end of the conversation.
"Um, Skipper, shouldn't we help?" Kowalski interjected. "We do call ourselves detectives."
"No. We call ourselves investigators of unique and intriguing situations. IUIS, Kowalski. We are not degrading our mission for a job that doesn't pay. Besides, the mom is probably around here somewhere." He waved an arm at the expansive mile-wide park. "It's fine."
"Really Skipper," Private argued. "You can't just leave an abandoned child."
"He's not abandoned. He has a mother. And Marlene will take care of him."
"I can't take care of him!" Marlene argued. "Skipper, you're all about protecting the innocent. Help him find his mom."
"Marlene…" He trailed off, watching his three men interact with the kid. Rico was showing him a card trick, while Private and Kowalski were looking for any information about the kid.
"The tag on the back just says 'Duck'." Kowalski said.
"Do you talk?" Private asked.
The kid shied away at that question.
"Hmm, guess not."
At this point, Skipper really should not have been surprised that the three stooges known as Julien, Maurice, and Mort were conveniently in the same park area.
"Longly, I have waited for the sky spirits to give me an heir to my throne," Julian declared. "Clearly, that is why they sent me this boy."
"Sent you?" The five adults asked incredulously. 'Duck' looked on.
"Yes! Indirectly. His name is Julien Jr., JJ! I will take him as my own and raise him to be handsome and brilliant! Come to me, my heir!" Julien held out his arms to the boy who stood completely still.
"We'll take him," Skipper said to Marlene. "We won't let Julien get near him. Come on kiddo, let's go find your mom."
Skipper turned briefly to hear Julien muttering about 'training cheap new help' and the five turned to glare at him.
Julien rolled his eyes back and waved them off, scuttling off down the path with Maurice and Mort in tow. Skipper squinted. That was suspicious.
"All right men," he looked at the three of them, each vying for the young kid's attention. He sighed. "I guess we're taking shifts. I'll stay with him first. The three of you, spread out and look for a mother."
The three of them looked at him reproachfully, but obeyed.
"Now kiddo, do you want to do some obstacles?"
—
The next hour found the newly named Duck running obstacles around their corner of Central Park. If he had to work with this kid, then this kid would be ready for war.
Private showed up after his first loop. "Are you two playing a game?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Private." Skipper laughed. "This is training for war."
"What war?" Private argued, gasping as Duck took off in a run as Skipper threw a knife past his head. Skipper didn't bother to answer that. There would always be another war. Only fools and children believed otherwise.
The kid dodged the (poorly aimed) knife, raced behind a tree and climbed the next one. He hung off a limb, before swinging off of it to land on the grass below. In a somersault, the kid then broke off into a run, picked up the thrown knife and threw it at another tree with a hastily drawn bullseye.
"Not bad!" Skipper cheered. "But you'll never make officer with a time like that. Do it again!"
—
The four rotated shifts. Kowalski was thrilled to have a turn with the young child, who still had not uttered a single word. He intended to use science to improve this child's intelligence. Maybe he would make a breakthrough in psychology and literacy.
"Let's begin," Kowalski said, using a pointer and a large piece of paper. "This is a tree. Say tree."
There was no response. Kowalski held up the paper with the tree. "Tree. Spell it out. T-R-E-E."
Duck looked at Kowalski, the letters, and back to the tree. He climbed up it and hung upside down, staring at the tall man.
Kowalski wondered if dropping the child on his head would jar anything into effect. Could it hurt? Hard falls, even impalements could drastically change the brain's functions. So, maybe.
Kowalski ordered Duck to come down and together they walked up one of the big rock formations nearby. This would be a high enough fall for the child to experience a head bump without killing him. Or would smacking him on the head with a tree limb be better?
"Kowalski, what are you two doing?" Private appeared at the bottom of the rocks, squinting up at the pair.
"I'm about to make history, Private!" Kowalski declared. "A bump at a 30 degree angle at least 5 times with a gravitational tip should incur a brain bump of intelligence by at least 3 IQ points."
"3?" Private sputtered. "Just 3? You're throwing a kid down some rocks for some theoretical THREE IQ points? That is not how that works!"
Kowalski was deep in his mental calculations when Duck started squirming and his fingers slipped.
"No!" Both he and Private shouted at the same time. In slow motion, Kowalski could only watch in horror as Duck missed his calculated first landing. Private broke into a hill sprint and caught the lad, causing them both to roll down the rest of the way. Private had the child tucked into him, so he took the brunt of the rocky hill.
Kowalski was left standing up top, wondering about the validity of his idea, and if, somehow, they had managed to obtain any extra IQ points. Judging by the venomous look on Private's face at the bottom, Kowalski didn't think he'd gotten any more enlightened.
—
The Ringed Tail crew was also in Central Park. Maurice was considering the evening menu, Mort was obeying Julien's every whim, and Julien? Julien was brooding.
"We need more help, Maurice. The bar is getting too big!"
"Then hire more," Maurice retorted calmly.
"No no no. Then that will cut into the profits," Julien argued. "And people do not want to work for me for whatever reason. It is likely that I blind them with my intelligence, and they are too intimidated to stay."
Maurice snorted. "Of course. What else could it be?" Long hours, poor wages, a drug-addled boss? Maurice made his own good money though; he could use another hand, but the smaller speakeasy meant it was easier to keep it on the down-low. He wasn't ready to move yet.
"Maurice, this is our opportunity with JJ."
"JJ?" Mort asked.
"Yes, the child! JJ. He is perfect to be our new assistant."
"Hmm, I'm not sure that kid can lift a barrel," Maurice replied, still thumbing through his notebook for menu ideas and what he would need to order soon. Julien already had Mort. Maurice wasn't particularly interested in a five year old child. There was more raising than job training at that age.
"Maurice, he is perfect for the role!"
The older man rolled his eyes. "I doubt it, sir. He's too young to be much good for the business. I've never hired anyone under 10. It's not a good look for business either. Some of the women get all weepy about the small ones."
Child labor was on the up and up on the political circuit these days. Congress had tried to recently pass a 10% tax on businesses using child labor, but, fortunately, SCOTUS had struck it down. But Maurice could read the writing on the walls. Child labor laws were coming.
"Fine Maurice. Do not help this business grow. I see you want us to fail!"
Maurice groaned aloud. Once this man was stuck on an idea…Well, he'd give it up after a few days, he was sure. The kid wouldn't do what Julien wanted, Julien would get mad, and Maurice would send the kid back to the Tuxedos to make sure they found his guardian.
"What do you need?"
Julien grinned wickedly. "Excellent, here is the plan…"
—
Private was not in the best of moods after that tumble, but Kowalski had used his big brain and didn't come back down to get an earful. Rico had showed up for his turn, and Private had headed to his section of Central Park.
Unfortunately, Private's gut was still spinning in circles. He just kept getting the bad feeling that his three comrades knew nothing about caring for children. They weren't little adults. Despite everything he'd been told, how he'd been raised.
Private decided to circle back to the area where they were hanging out, babysitting Duck. When he got there, he saw Rico flying a kite.
"Please tell me you're just flying a kite," Private muttered, looking around for Duck.
Rico laughed. "Kwalski had idea. Single flyer. Small!" Rico grunted out and nodded upward. There was Duck hang gliding in the wind.
Private felt sick to his stomach. "Rico! He's probably three years old. Bring him down at once! It's far too dangerous for a child to be up there!"
Rico rolled his eyes. The message was clear. You worry too much.
Private was fuming. Maybe he'd worry less if he didn't have to deal with a bunch of men who had clearly never watched children before.
Rico messed with the kite again a few times, and even he could eventually see the distressed look on Duck's face. At Private's insistence, the man finally brought Duck down. Private immediately took off with Duck to a small clearing and gave him some biscuits out of his jacket pocket.
"Here. I thought these might suit your fancy."
The small child happily munched on them, as Private pulled out a game of jacks from his other pocket. "Do you play jacks yet?"
Private showed the boy the game of jacks, and was teaching him the ropes of it when Skipper walked by.
"Private, what are you doing with the young Duck? It's not your shift."
Skipper attempted to wrestle the boy's attention away from the game of jacks.
"Really Skipper? Obstacle courses? Intelligence testing? Hang-gliding? He's barely looks 5. In fact, he's probably younger. You lot are pushing him way too hard. You know a lot Skipper, but you don't know everything." Private hollered, placing himself between Skipper and Duck.
The park around them silenced. Private could hear his blood pounding in his ears. Oh no. What had he done? He was here on a whim of Skipper's. His visa was sponsored by Skipper. And he had just potentially thrown all of that out the proverbial window, by trying to take care of some mute toddler barely out of nappies.
Private exhaled deeply and inhaled again to swallow his pride. "I'm sorry Skippah; it's just that I—"
Skipper interrupted him with a glare. One look told him that this act of insubordination wouldn't be forgotten any time quickly. "You think you know what's best for this new cadet? You're just a boy yourself, a dreamer! What could you possibly know about raising him?"
Private bit his tongue. He didn't know how Skipper had grown up, but he knew his own role in London, on the streets every day. He played, taught, and learned from the children, the orphans, and the gangs. All of skills, from lock picking to food snatching to jacks and back again, that had all been picked up on the London streets.
Instead of answering, Private checked his watch. "Well, you're about to find out. It's my shift! Come along, Duck!"
The duo walked off to another spot, this time closer to the busy road. Hopefully his mother might walk by and see the boy. Private pulled out some more biscuits and this time a game of marbles. Duck was fascinated by the swirling colors, and, after rifling through his own pockets, showed Private his own.
Private grinned. Finally a breakthrough! It was the first time he'd seen Duck do something of his own volition, rather than simply obeying what the three of them wanted.
The pair played for a bit, listening to the background traffic and other noises.
"Hey Private."
"Maurice!" Private turned and walked over to the man, leaving Duck on his own. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah actually. Julien was talking about adding some exotic cocktails to our line-up, and you're from another country at least. Got anything?"
Private frowned. "I prefer a pint of bitters myself, but a gimlet is pretty easy. Gin or rum, with a lime cordial and some ice. Very easy and classy."
"Hmm that would be good. I haven't mixed much lime and gin," Maurice replied thoughtfully.
"I mean, get a good gin if you want 'exotic'," Private said. "Most of the cocktails are gin-based, so it pays to use a higher quality than the rotgut in your back barrel."
Maurice chuckled. "Can't argue with that. Thanks man. I'm going to interview a few more people in the park today, see what they know."
"Watch for flies," Private reminded, and Maurice gave a mock salute.
"Always do."
Private smiled. He liked Maurice; for the most part, he was an honest man. How he and Julien were at the same speakeasy was truly astounding.
The young man turned back around and gasped. Duck was nowhere to be seen. Private raced up a tree and peaked out, spotting Julien in the distance, racing off with the kid. The two dodged traffic across the street. Private knew they were headed for the bar.
He blew on a whistle from his jacket pocket, nearly popping his own ear drums with the shrill blast.
Almost immediately, the Tuxedos appeared out of the bushes. "What's the situation?"
"Julien grabbed Duck and took off. They're running up 67th now."
"Let's go men, Operation Ducknapped is a go!" The four took off after the Malagasy man and the boy, dodging across the street and racing down the pavement. At the cross section at Park, they heard a large honk, thunk, and a huge series of screams.
"Oh no."
The four looked at the scene in horror. A small boy lay strewn across the ground, slammed into by a passing vehicle that hadn't swerved in time. A wheel spun wildly as the car sat against the light pole it had run into. The child was unmoving. Women were screaming. A policeman was attempting to get the driver out of the car.
Private's heart sank to his stomach. "No."
"A moment of silence, men."
Kowalski sat down heavily. Skipper raised his eyes to the heaven. Rico looked torn between investigating and crying. Or both at the same time. Private wanted to throw up. Another one gone far too soon.
"JJ come back!" Julien's voice made the four of them look up. He was in the middle of Park Ave. Duck was in the median, obviously escaped from Julien, but unsure of where to go next. He scooted across the street towards them, and the four looked on with fear at the oncoming traffic.
"Men, we've got a job to do."
Between cars, pedestrians, and street vendors, the four leaped and dodged into danger. Rico grabbed the kid and spun, tossing him like a bag of potatoes to Skipper who nailed the catch and somersaulted over an oncoming flivver hood. He landed gracefully, listening to Kowalski's overhead instructions of next obstacles.
Private sent a popcorn cart into the street—on "accident", of course, sending a bigger distraction towards Julien and everyone else. A veritable smoke screen as the popcorn started to pop out control. Julien was trapped on the median now, aimlessly calling for JJ to return.
A few moments later, the five of them were safely on the sidewalk with Duck safely in hand. Private grabbed one hand, already midway through a parental warning on the dangers of traffic and automobiles, while Skipper held the other.
"Mutte!" startled the four into complete silence.
They turned to see Marlene and another woman with four children run up towards them.
Duck himself broke loose of their holds and raced towards the woman, who gave him a big hug.
Marlene explained that she had found her by the lake with her other four who looked suspiciously like the missing son. "Well done, Marlene," Skipper said proudly. He got more impressed by her every time they interacted.
"Oh danke, Herrs," the German woman gushed. "We've been so worried about our Kristofer. Did he cause any problems?"
"Well - " Skipper started, only for Private to step on his foot with a glare. "Happy to serve, ma'am," he amended.
Duck stood in front of them, and Skipper pulled them into a proper salute. Duck returned it primly and gave Private a quick hug, placing something in his hand before returning to his mother. She took the five children and headed off towards the subway station, leaving the Tuxedos to stand there, fighting back tears.
"Well done boys," Skipper said, proud as could be at his men and the small child.
"Oh, he left us his marble!" Private exclaimed opening his hand to show the red marble that they had played with earlier that afternoon.
"Aww that's sweet, Private. Looks like you made a friend today."
The four stood there a moment, thinking about the child that hadn't made it today. Marlene looked at them in concern and Skipper waved her off. "Gotta go Marlene. Things to do. Wars to train for. You understand."
She rolled her eyes at them as they walked off, pretending like none of them had been affected by this episode at all. Typical.
Later that night, Skipper found Private sitting on the fire escape, fiddling with the red marble between his fingers. "You did good today, Private," he said gently, resting his hands on his shoulders for a quick squeeze.
"Thanks Skipper." The smile was near blinding, even if a little quick to tears. "It's just instinct. I've always been good with kids. Again, I'm sorry about what I said."
"No no." Skipper waved off an apology. "We all have our strengths. This is one of yours."
It wasn't a promise to listen every time, but it was an acknowledgment of Private's skills and place within the team. And that was all that mattered.
Fin
A/N: Boring history time! Maurice was right in his reference to child labor laws. In 1919, Congress passed the Child Labor Tax Law, which imposed an excise tax of 10% on net profits of companies that employed children (ages 14-16). In 1921, SCOTUS struck the law down, because it was disguising a criminal penalty as a tax? I didn't completely follow the logic or care to figure it out. The Fair Labor Standards Act was passed in 1938 and formally prohibited child labor.
Vocab:
Nappies - diapers (British)
Biscuits - cookies (British)
Rotgut - bootleg liquor; usually homemade, usually a liver killer
Fly (dick) - policeman in plain clothes
Flivver - Model T ford