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Undertow	By : pronker Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar Views: 11341 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction set in Dreamworks' Penguins of Madagascar franchise. I do not own its characters, basic premise or settings.

Chapter List
- 1-1/?
- 2-2/?
- 3-3/?
- 4-4/?
- 5-5/?
- 6-6/?
- 7-7/?
- 8-8/?
- 9-9/?
- 10-10/?
- 11-11/?
- 12-12/?
- 13-13/?
- 14-14/?
- 15-15/?
- 16-16/?
- 17-17/?
- 18-18/?
- 19-19/?
- 20-20/?
- 21-21/?
- 22-22/?
- 23-23/?
- 24-24/?
- 25-25/?
- 26-26/?
- 27-27/?
- 28-28/?
- 29-29/?
- 30-30/?
- 31-31/?
- 32-32/?
- 33-33/?
- 34-34/?
- 35-35/?
- 36-36/?
- 37-37/?
- 38-38/?
- 39-39/?
- 40-40/?
- 41-41/?
- 42-42/?
- 43-43/?
- 44-44/?
- 45-45/?
- 46-46/?
- 47-47/?
- 48-48/?
- 49-49/?
- 50-50/?
- 51-51/?
- 52-52/?
- 53-53/?
- 54-54/?
- 55-55/?
- 56-56/?
- 57-57/?
- 58-58/?
- 59-59/?
- 60-60/?
- 61-61/?
- 62-62/?
- 63-63/?
- 64-64/?
- 65-65/?
- 66-66/?
- 67-67/?
- 68-68/?
- 69-69/?
- 70-70/?
- 71-71/?
- 72-72/?
- 73-73/?
- 74-74/?
- 75-75/?
- 76-76/?
- 77-77/?
- 78-78/?
- 79-79/?
- 80-80/?
- 81-81/?
- 82-82/?
- 83-83/?
- 84-84/?
- 85-85/?
- 86-86/?
- 87-87/?
- 88-88/?
- 89-89/?
- 90-90/?
- 91-91/?
- 92-92/?
- 93-93/?
- 94-94/?
- 95-95/?
- 96-96/?
- 97-97/?
- 98-97/?
- 99-99/?
- 100-100/?
- 101-101/?
- 102-102/?
- 103-103/?
- 104-104/?
- 105-105/?
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- 109-109/?
- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
- 112-112/112
- 106
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- 108
"How was it?" Skipper asked. "Does this satisfy your needs?"
"I could get used to having that regularly."
"You're incredibly responsive, Marlene, the way you move, it's, it's - "
Marlene worked her shoulders, tilting her head this way and that. "Thanks for the neck rub. I'm up for more television, what's on?"
Skipper aimed the clicker, passing by a Teletubbies marathon and Bob Ross painting happy trees. "The news."
Skipper's flipper circled Marlene's shoulders as they settled in. When she grabbed the remote, he tensed so that she noticed. "Just in case the news gets too, er, newsy, I want to change the channel. No bleeding tonight, er, you know what I mean, Skipper. I'm keeping the back button on the Bob Ross station, if you don't mind."
She was cute and made his life better, so he relaxed enough to let her control the TV. "Seguro, mi reina."
Marlene purred her contentment as the screen droned political commentary from Commissioner McSlade and Akili Wangai-McSlade, a montage of today's Dragon Boat Festival competitions that brought out squeals of joy from a bouncy otter, which was followed by a squib acknowledging Fathers Day last weekend that made her kiss Skipper hard. Gil Force promised more sunny skies and then came a banter-filled ending segment by Bonnie Chang and Chuck Charles. Marlene analyzed their reportage clinically, to Skipper's amusement.
"Jokes? They tell lame jokes now? I heard that last one in my cradle."
Skipper shrugged. "Looks that way." He'd never snoozed in a cradle like the IKEA one in the halfway renovated Rockgut Room, which was currently empty of babies. Private, Rico and Kowalski strutted around the zoo this evening after dinner, receiving oohs and aahhhhhs from zoomanity admiring their fuzzy offspring. Private had suggested both the visit and the promenade, hmmm, was he pushing his love and his love's other love together? Chuck and Bonnie radiated camaraderie, so maybe they receded from passion into the friendzone. Their cheery voices invaded Skipper's musing.
"... and Bonnie, I see by the clock on the wall that it's Happy News time."
"Chuck, happy is the word and also mysterious. This just in from the Jumla region of Nepal: a yeti and her offspring shepherded a herd of yaks across the Chinese border into the fabled land of the Lamas, not the animals but the priests oh you viewers know what I mean. Local legends tell of such an event portending the end of the world." Bonnie snorted in an unladylike fashion. "This reporter needs more proof than the following clip." She nodded to someone offscreen and a blurry yeti carrying her child on her back swayed to and fro as inexpert camerawork frazzled the footage. The black and white images lasting forty-five seconds jolted Skipper onto his feet as he ran forward.
"It's Sasquatch! Dayyum, she made it back to Nepal!"
"No way!" Marlene joined her love as he thrust his beak six inches away from the screen. "You're sure it's her?"
Chuck's deep authoritative tones struck Skipper dumb. "Bonnie, legends call her Mikaela. No doubt Nepal media will poll viewers to name her child suitably unisex, like Lee or Chris or Pat or Amiya - "
"Undoubtedly. Chuck, let's move along to sports. Scooter, are you on?"
Skipper folded to the floor, staring sightlessly ahead of him. Marlene plotzed by his side, rubbing his neck as he had rubbed hers. "I'm sure it's her, Marlene. Hugo is his name and he's her orang friend and not her child," he declared. "Our team is the only group in the world who knows that Blowhole bioengineered her from yak to yeti."
"Gosh, I hope they'll be okay."
His voice sounded stunned to his own earholes. "So do I. So do I. Dayyum, their segway deserves an award, I'll ask Kowalski how far it is from Åland to Nepal but how in the hell did they get the segway aboard a ship to reach the mainland - "
"Mikaela sounds gutsy. I like her even if she did try to kill you because she made up for it by switching sides."
He just knew his face remained slack with disbelief. "Mikaela. I suggested the name but she turned it down, said she wanted only to be called Sasquatch. Marlene."
"Hmmm, sweety?"
"Do I look psychic to you?"
She leaned away from him, looking him up and down and finally cupped his face. She ran her digits over the downturned corner crease of his beak. "I can't tell. What would a psychic penguin look like?"
"Me."
"Then you look like one." Marlene smiled. "C'mon, so you called her Mikaela and legends call her Mikaela, too? What's that have to do with anything?"
Skipper's face fell. "This'll give me nightmares if it's true. I'm the Anti-Psychic, Marlene. It creeps me out nearly as bad as the Grim Reaper, did I ever tell you about trying to teach Rico how to move things with his mind? Little Private took over Rico's training because I turned wimp - the whole psy ops program proved a bust - "
Was Marlene kissing away his mental owwie? Because she dotted his temple with smooches large and small. "Hush. Hush. C'mon, now. There are things real and true and there are things not. Just like Roger thinking I was a monster, remember?"
Whatever she tried, it worked when he wasn't looking. "Noted and logged, babe. Ahem. You up for stargazing? Arting? Shooting some pool?"
"And miss the scores for the second round playoffs of the Stanley Cup?"
The two of them leaned forward as Scooter Alvarez smoothly described the highlights of tonight's Rangers game.
IOIOIOIOIO
"'Kiiiippppaaaaahgobye?"
"No, for the seventh time! He'll handle the sitch with all our help." Kowalski felt it upon him to uphold team authority, sorely tried though it had been. "He'll not need the jetski I reserved for him to cross the Big Pond with. I canceled and lost only half the fee."
"Hmmmph, K'walski, he caused the Sithly sitch so we should bail on him, righto?" Private looked shocked at his own words and waddled faster, Sally peeping in distress until he slowed.
Rico's pace continued as disciplined as Kowalski never thought to see it in the before-baby time. His love strode purposefully through the zoo, pausing to let Tactic peek out to the admiration of the zoosters. Burt curled and uncurled his trunk to make the lad giggle, Roy allowed Mason and Phil to use his horns to handstand upon and Pinkie's flock held up their own young ones so the babies could see other babies. Cheep-cheeps and skrawks filled the air of the digesting zoo as June's long evening stretched after dinner feeding time. Sally practiced her vowels extensively.
"Cute, oh yes, Daddy's baby is cute," cooed Kowalski to Sally when they had passed the flamingo habitat. "Never you mind that you can't fly like a flamingo, Daddy will have surrogate penguin wings perfected by the time you are old enough to use them. No dangerous soda bottle rockets for you."
Rico seemed to home in on Private's disquiet better than his lieutenant. "Whyyuvite'Eeniedenfurteevee?"
"Why? Because I can be the bigger bird, that's why, and tonight Skippa'll see it."
Kowalski reluctantly tore his attention from his little boy to the one who was his first little boy. "Private, beyond any strange comparison test that nobody asked for, by any chance are you hoping to catch Skipper and Marlene in flagrante delicto at our return?"
Private blinked. "Wot?"
Rico explained violently before Kowalski could riffle through his list of euphemisms again. "Witsmokingun."
"Gun? Smokin' gun? Whose - I don't - oh. Oh!" Private dropped to a whisper. "Not in front of the kids, K'walski! And Rico, thanks ever so for that disgustin' image! Ew!"
Protectprotect echoed in Kowalski's brain as they neared their habitat. Upon jumping carefully over the railing, the three birds dove into the water for the prescribed ten seconds before bringing their offspring back up to breathe on their faux floe. Sally and Tactic gasped comically at the dunking and soothing wasn't that fun and good job kiddos encouragement suffused the night air. Kowalski pitched his voice louder than usual.
"Here we are, home again, home again jiggety jig I say jiggety jig!"
The hatch slid aside and Skipper's voice boomed from below. "Hurry up, men, I saved you some!"
Rico and Private threw sideways glances at each other before looking to Kowalski to lead them downwards. "Coming, sir!"
Kowalski backed down the ladder, brushing off invisible bits of grit from its steps as he descended. When he reached bottom, he looked around to see the main lair empty and a trail of red on the floor leading past the TV into the kids' room. What could that mean? Did they have a terrible fight? Who won? Or was Marlene enduring heat far from her schedule, was she ill - he bit off speculating until a full examination could be made because he refused to guess about mammalian mysteries. Despite his resolution, a cloud of options shadowed his mind until he shook his head to clear it.
When he looked around again, Rico and Private had gained the floor and followed the trail rapidly, Rico hyperventilating and Private silent as a ghost. Kowalski flung his tall frame after them to the kids' room. He stumbled over the baby monitor wiring that he hadn't gotten around to clinching to the floor because boy howdy hard wiring was the only safe way to ensure proper transmission within thick stone and/or concrete walls -
"Red, white and/or blue petunias, mi segundo? You pick."
Skipper pointed to the mural growing organically from the far end of the space, near where Rockgut's old timey spy equipment had squatted. A vine blossomed upwards, its languid diagonal length the backdrop for Marlene's artwork. "Come on, you guys," she offered from a paint spackled body, "use bare flippers for that natural feel. Skipper and I did a lot but you'll help, yeah?"
She included them all in a smile before returning to completing the circle on what Kowalski figured to be a moon gate. He stared at its artistry; why this would take a week to finish with proper shellacking and 'Eenie, my friend, how clever of you to arrange a group project. All of us ought to be used to the New Normal in one week, even Private.
Private, for his part, lifted Sally from his brood pouch to plunk her into the cradle she shared with Tactic. Kowalski could nearly hear Routine Three: Be Polite If It Kills You caroming around the young penguin's skull. "Sure. Why not. Let's all have a go." Private dipped both flippers savagely into the open bucket of red paint to slap scarlet petals onto a vine whose species, realistically, ought to have yellow blooms, not that Kowalski would mention it.
Rico dumped Tactic beside his sister and passed him a soft toy. The two babies focused on each other in pre-sleep routine as their world shrunk to the two of them. One point nine days ago, Kowalski had noticed that Tactic and Sally observed each other more frequently, even if they had not yet advanced to the play together stage. Skipper seemed happy, Kowalski thought, and because happiness happily proved contagious, Kowalski felt happy. He chose white paint to try drawing a star far from the moon gate to give it perspective and not overwhelm the gate.
Marlene ignored all penguins to concentrate on slicing the moon gate's circled wet paint to represent a pattern of bricks. She turned her head this way and that, reaching as far up as possible. "Rico, a little boost, huh?"
Rico obliged as he knelt to allow Marlene to straddle his bull neck. He straightened and the otter continued placing slashes at regular intervals until she came to the top of the arch, where she angled the slashes to represent its keystone. Her absorbed concentration touched Kowalski's heart enough to forgive her for the imbalance she had brought to the penguin habitat in Central Park Zoo. It wasn't her fault she was a loving animal and loved Skipper, who loved her right back because he had a river of love to spew, too, that would brook no damming. Private might or might not accept that fact with better grace than today, in time. Kowalski hoped he would.
Rico chose magenta for his flowers, stroking broad, fat petals onto the vine. Up high, Marlene added shading to the moon gate to give a three-dee effect before she slid from Rico's neck. They high fived and laughed at the paint splashing between them.
Skipper and Private chose to work a flipper's width apart, crafting red, yellow and blue flowers that nobody had yet seen on this planet. The whole group pursued the project steadily until empty buckets littered the floor. Marlene burbled, "Hey, brainstorm alert! Stay put, guys." She affixed clean up rags to their feet and dumped every last drip, drop and drab of paint onto the floor. "Now skate!" She skated, too, swirling the paint over each bit of unlovely concrete flooring. Bright colors slurried into uneven paint designs using magenta, white, blue, red, yellow and puce in a unique pattern.
Skipper and his team stared at the floor when they were done. "It's op art, Marlene, and a puzzle to take years to unravel. Congratulations, artiste." He grasped her two painted paws and bowed ceremoniously over them.
"'Eeniefoedawin!"
An algorithm completed in Kowalski's mind, throwing him back to Åland Island. "It's, it's Vasarely Vision all over again!" He high fived Rico, Skipper and Private.
Marlene curtsied left and right. "Why, thank you! I'm glad you like it and even gladder that Sally and Tactic's little minds will be stimulated, at least when they wake up."
"Shhhhh," whispered Private as he turned on the baby monitor. "Back to adult space, everyone."
The five animals made a date in a few days to further the finishing touches.
IOIOIOIOIO
"Saint Romuald Hospital? This is Mounted Officer Filomena Irizarry of the Parks Enforcement Patrol. I'm bringing in Alice Nelson to your maternity ward as she planned. Best treatment for my friend, correct? All right then, see you in twenty."
Filo clicked away and punched in another number quickly. "Channel One, today is not the best day to start filming your Zookeeper Surreality Show with Ms. Nelson - oh, they're on their way in the truck? Well, stop them - do not tell me you can't, I'm the law and I say - wait, Alice, don't answer the door and don't you dare lift that suitcase - ay Dios mio, el día se va al garete."
Two veteran newscasters and an intern lugging equipment waited outside Alice's front door as it opened. Filo took charge after flashing her badge. "She's in labor, go away until next week, for pity's sake. Let her alone in the name of the law."
"Thought it was" - Alice gasped - "Doc Peary. Before this began, he said he'd stop by today to see me, he said, he said, heeeeeeeeeeeeee - "
"Breathe like we practiced! Puff puff like a puppy! You can do this, girlfriend! Breathe! Buh-reeeeathe!" Filo's policewoman voice rang loud and clear without need of a bullhorn.
Chuck, Bonnie and the intern hastened back down the cement steps. "I'm not cut out for this," mumbled Chuck to Bonnie at the halfway point. "I'm more scared of this than unicorns."
Bonnie and the intern looked at each other and then at Chuck. "Forget you heard that if you want to keep your position, young lady," sighed Bonnie. "Chuck, honestly, get a grip. It's not your baby and we're leaving - hey, watch it, fella!"
A bespectacled man in unseasonably warm clothing pushed his way past them, taking the steps three at a time. "Alice! I'm here! You can breathe now!"
A clutch of Channel One personnel set up camera tripods until Chuck and Bonnie joined them and shook their heads. "Is dis a Mama Naycha show or what?" griped a grip as he took down what he had just set up.
Voices tumbled rat-a-tat at the top of the stairs as the TV crew couldn't help but hear the drama.
"It's under control, George. I'm taking her."
"Why can't I come, too? I'm a scientist!"
"Doc, Doc, Doc George, let me lean on you - ow ouch ow - puff puff whoosh - oh God stairs why did I want to live upstairs - George, hold on to me tight - "
"This situation calls for division of labor! Yes, I know what I just said. George, stay with her while I bring the black and white around, that'll get these alcahuetes out of our way." Filo patted Alice's arm and darted down the stairs towards the service entrance gate of the cafeteria. Alice took the rest of the stairs one at a time.
A black and white police car with strobing light bars soon surged frighteningly near the Channel One truck.
"Come on, people, hustle and bustle! You, reel in the power cables, and you, young lady, be careful with that microphone, it's Chuck's favorite." Bonnie and Chuck grimaced what Filo took to be smiles in her direction before jumping into the sound truck as it trundled sedately away. The truck would have peeled out but for her police presence, Filo surmised with a wicked grin. She opened the back door and gentled Alice inside. George held the suitcase to have something to do with his hands as he sat next to Alice, Filo assumed. It was a good thing a primipara faced hours of labor or George might witness a human birth for a change.
Alice delivered a baby boy fifteen hours later. She named him Hari.
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Undertow