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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/?
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- 24-24/?
- 25-25/?
- 26-26/?
- 27-27/?
- 28-28/?
- 29-29/?
- 30-30/?
- 31-31/?
- 32-32/?
- 33-33/?
- 34-34/?
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- 36-36/?
- 37-37/?
- 38-38/?
- 39-39/?
- 40-40/?
- 41-41/?
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- 47-47/?
- 48-48/?
- 49-49/?
- 50-50/?
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- 79-79/?
- 80-80/?
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- 85-85/?
- 86-86/?
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- 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/?
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- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
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- 33
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"You want to make a toast?" Kowalski asked.
Private crowed, "A toast to success!"
Ouch, Private, that stings, Skipper thought, but aloud he said, "As you wish. Kowalski, what are our options?"
Kowalski already had their HQ's revolving door set to 'bar' and pivoted it to the locked cabinet. "How about Duff beers all around? Slight on the alcohol content because of your upcoming sw--- "
" --- not for me! I'm a sopistirated bird, I am. A whiskey and soda, please. Make the soda a diet Coke." Private arched his body partway into a Quantum Hypercute as two of his teammates covered their eyes out of habit. Skipper didn't.
"That's not the way it works, babe."
"Wot?"
Rico tittered. "Sodakaboom."
"Wot?"
Kowalski seized this opportunity to teach. "Soda water is a mixer for drinks, Private. It's commonly called --- "
"Kaboombubbleeeeee."
"Er, yes, Rico, bubbly water. You can change flavors by switching tonic water for bubbly. You, Private, might begin with a simple Jack Daniels and branch water. Here, I'll mix it for you."
"Oh. Righto, then." Private accepted the tumbler. "Strong! Mmmm, I taste like a real grownup!"
The drink shot to his head and he kissed Skipper hard, fast enough to take him off guard. "Ooops, I forgot we're on hia---"
"High alert? No, Private, this is a relaxing mission, er, vacation, for, um, relaxing. No alerting in any way, shape or form. Feels good, doesn't it?" Skipper sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.
Giddy as never before, Private bent his love into a dancer's dip and planted a big smack on his beak again. He did his best to sound sultry in an Aussie accent. "So it's fair dinkum to do this --- and this --- and crikey, this --- "
Skipper levered himself upright with a move that none of his team had ever seen. "Heh yeah a real grownup, yes indeed, by George Herbert Walker. Ooookay, that's enough."
"More! More!"
"By Grant's Special Blend, what have I created? No, you can't have more than one drink. That's an order."
"Partypooper."
"That's partypooper, sir, and yes, I am. Next question?"
Kowalski and Rico stepped in. "Here, Skipper, your Duff and let's toast to, um --- "
"Teamworkyahyahyah!"
They drank half a bottle each as Private watched them, glassy-eyed. "All right, it's zero hour plus fifteen, time to shove off. I'll carry the backpack for the first leg." Skipper donned the Hello Kitty accessory.
Private giggled. "It's got cherries on it! No cherries in this lair, no siree bob's your Uncle Nigel! I was the last one!"
Rico and Kowalski clamped flippers over Private's beak before he swam into obnoxious waters. "Private, you need to hit the Hudson and fast. A cold dunking will sober you up." The two shuffled the young penguin to the base of the ladder.
Private placed his flippers over his teammates' and acted as if he were playing the flute. "Do do dootle dootle doo do Road Trip, do do dootle dootle doo do Road Trip," he sang in a muffled fashion through their grip. The tune was the Circus Song from their adventures in Monte Carlo and Skipper groaned.
"If I never hear that song again, it'll be too soon. Men, stay frosty and we'll see you Monday. Our body doubles secure?"
Faux Skipper and Private's plushie awaited deployment near the portholes. "Aye, sir."
Private gathered himself for the trip with mental effort he wouldn't have owned before Åland. "Mmmhmm." His captors released their hold as they felt him relax. "Wow, wot a rush, like a sugar high from Winkies, um." He cleared his throat. "Ahem. Ready to go, Skippa?"
The prospect of high adventure intoxicated the commander better than any drink, plus it left no hangover. The gleam in his eyes told everything to his crew and they grew happy for him. "Sure, kid. Let's blow this popsicle stand."
The saying triggered an explosive reaction in Rico. His eyes flew wide as he became agitated. "BlowPollycite!"
Kowalski turned in surprise. "Polly who? Is this an old flame you've been holding back on telling me about, Rico? Er, not that you must. Dr. Phil says --- "
"PollyKABOOM!"
Kowalski flinched. "Thanks for that mental image of your intimacy with her, Rico. I'm sure she was very special to you --- "
"Kaboom. KABOOM. KABOOM!" The explosives expert took a deep breath. "Watr."
"Heh, you mean --- naturally I thought, well imagined, really --- well. Well, then. Yes, Skipper and Private, keep a water, I mean weather, eye out for pollucite. You'll have a chance of spotting it since you'll be underground and away from Manhattan's paved over, polluted, civilized ... mess."
Private answered because Skipper seemed already sightseeing on the road, his pupils blown to the size of aquamarine cabochons. "You mean the kaboomy rocky stuff lookin' like soan papdi?"
Mentions of candy brought Skipper back to earth. "Who's got soan papdi? Did someone make an after hours trip to Bailey's Snackatarium without telling me? That's AWOL behavior, whoever it was." But the glare lost its fire in a moment. "Shoot me a chunk and I'll take your case under advisement. Maybe we can bypass a formal inquiry."
"Sir, no soan papdi."
"Damn. Goodbye, then."
Kowalski quoted J.M. Barrie for once. He'd kept a few quotes in memory from a production of Peter Pan in a Central Park presentation a while back. "Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting."
"Kowalski, that's a little cosmic, even for you."
Kowalski tried another Barrie quote. "Second star to the right, straight on 'til morning."
"Huh? Come again, soldier?"
Why waste whimsy with this group? Doris would have understood. "Oh all right. Head up the Hudson 'til you come to the Mohawk, hang a left, swim on to Schoharie Creek and sharp left. Now you swim straight ahead on Schoharie Creek, don't get confused you're nearly there, keep going past Punchkill Creek before making your right onto Cobleskill Cr--- "
Kowalski just knew he'd be interrupted. "Punchkill Creek? I like the trip already, boyo!"
"Yes, I thought you would. Let's consider other named features so you may drool over them before I impart vital data, shall we? Tributaries you'll bypass include Fox Creek, Panther Creek --- "
"Oooh, yeah, that's what I'm talking about! Tough dudes, those panthers and foxes!"
" --- East Kill, West Kill --- "
Skipper halted his euphoric commentary. "What's with the killing? This is peaceful upstate New York, right?" He shot a protective look over his shoulder in Private's direction, but Private missed it because he busied himself adjusting the backpack's straps to the proper fit over toned muscles.
"Kill means creek in Dutch, sir."
"So Cobleskill Creek means Cobles Creek Creek?"
A lieutenant's job was never easy. "A linguistic blending puzzlement, to be sure, now moving right along --- "
"I don't like Dutch lingo as much as German."
"That will devastate King Willem-Alexander, his lovely family, and the entire Kingdom of the Netherlands. May I continue?"
"Punch it, Chewie!" Skipper chortled.
"Indeed. As I was saying, go past Punchkill Creek to stay in Cobleskill Creek. Howe Caverns will be on your right with an overland waddle of approximately one half mile. It's a new moon tonight so you'll rely on our inborn penguin vision and sense of direction to find north." Kowalski looked smug. "If that fails, find the Maglite that I reminded Private to pack. Use the smartphone GPS the way I showed you, swim against the current and you'll do fine. Toodles!"
"Yahtoodles!"
IOIOIOIOIO
"We're out of the Five Boroughs, Skippa! I feel ever so free!" Private paced his leader side by side.
Thirty minutes into their vacation, Skipper admitted a loosening of his neck tension as he stroked smoothly through the dark waters. "Yeah, I think I'm starting to, too. Hey, there's Yonkers."
As if pulled by a magnet, Private swam east from their midstream position towards the fabled Wally Winkie Candy factory. "Fancy a Fudgy Ducklin', Skippa? A covert break-in operation with night maneuvers, just your sort of relaxation, eh?" He halted at a tug on his toe.
"Let's stay on mission, er, on point. I want to make thirty miles before we take a break. We left fifteen minutes later than scheduled, plus our slink on the sidewalk past Corpus Christi Church took longer than planned. The decorating committee for St. Patrick's Day was running in and out of the church like us penguins on a March. They must have been burning the midnight sacramental oil. I thought we'd never pass by undetected."
"Aye aye."
Skipper felt a gripe coming on and decided to air it before it could fester. "See those lights on in the waterfront buildings, and it's nearly three a.m.! Don't humans ever sleep?"
The city sported a blue cube shaped building of Kastelholm height. Rather than the castle's bulky uneven outline looming unlit in the gloom, this structure promised the ambiance of recent history adapted into a frivolous purpose. "Skippa, I've heard the Shakespeareans in the Park chatter about this place. It used to be a telly production buildin' and now it's a performin' arts center! Huzzah for plays!"
Skipper would rather forget the whole association with Shakespeare, Central Park and sleep deprivation paranoia on this pleasantly taxing swim.
"Well, Private, I'll sleep through Hamlet, if you don't mind." Skipper forged past the blue structure as Private trailed behind for a final quote from the Bard to compliment the view on a moonless night. One story of the cube glowed a beacon left turned on to salute the performing life, or perhaps a janitor plied his lonely trade in the dark hours.
“How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.” Private ought to have known that Skipper's honed commando hearing would discern the words above the gurgling of the Hudson.
"What was that?"
"Um, nothin', just poetry."
Skipper chuckled as he turned onto his back to look Private in the eye a yard behind him. "Thou swell, thou witty, thou sweet, thou grand. Wouldst kiss me pretty, wouldst hold my --- um, hand doesn't scan for us penguins, but you get my drift, right? A little Lorenz Hart lyrics from my heart."
A sob rose above the murmuring current. "Skippa, you m-made me cry."
"Shit! There's no crying in swimming, that's an order! I didn't mean to --- "
Private coughed, sobbed and choked in watery gasps. "I --- I --- w-want you to --- "
Skipper dove under Private so that the Hello Kitty backpack buoyed him until he recovered. When the heaving died down to sniffles at the moment Skipper ran out of oxygen, he surfaced by the side of his love. His voice turned into a snarl because he couldn't bear to cry at the outset of their special time together. "Don't ever scare me like that again, you hear me? Personal presence persistence precedes poesy, you got that?"
"Ye-Yes. Aye."
It wasn't until they spied the new construction on the Tappan Zee Bridge that calmer moods prevailed. "Sorry, honey."
"Aw, forget it. Let's haul out for a breather since we're thirty miles out. This is the widest part of the Hudson." The two voyagers selected a piling on the south side of the bridge section due to be dismantled this year. The footing provided ample room to sprawl as they breathed lightly, considering their recent scare. Ten minutes passed before Private divined the fruitful ideas sprouting from his commander's think melon time.
"Did you notice how it was harder to keep afloat after we passed New Jersey's border with New York?"
"We passed New Jersey? Yay!"
Patiently, Skipper plied his patience. It came more easily since this was not, technically, a mission fraught with danger. The danger of drowning remained everpresent, though, and the Hudson deepened further north. He pushed to the back burner the realization that because Rico and Kowalski weren't along, he had fewer souls to protectprotectprotect. "Yes, Private, we did a few miles back. The salt line of the Hudson varies depending on snow melt runoff. There was hardly any snow this winter, but there was plenty of rain which pushes brackish water borders towards the salty sea." He saw that Private struggled to expand his worldview from his current surroundings to the big picture. The lesson was imminently important, so he explained rather than making Private work it out himself. "That means we're now swimming in fresh water. We must keep in mind that we could sink easier than a ruptured duck. Remember your lesson in Inuit throat singing to keep you alive longer, if it ever comes to that, Rockgut forbid."
Private added his bit to the observation of Mama Nature. "The Hudson up 'til now was just like K'walski mixin' my drink, yes I see, and now it's, it's pure branch water without the Jack Daniels, um, I mean the sea." He dove further into science before bringing up personalities, which was so like him that Skipper swallowed a lump in his throat. "I'll not float as well as I did swimmin' with Hunter back to Antarctica. Wot a fun road trip that was! I wonder wot Hunter is doin'?"
It would serve no purpose to remind Private that his friend, the tween leopard seal, outgrew non-penguin-munching tween time to dive into leopard seal teen time and all that went with it. Skipper found a way to divert the subject from what could depress Private. "Oh, by now she's likely dating boys and crunching calamari and, um, various yummies. In other words, Private, she's doing what comes naturally. Just like we are."
Private's sympathetic nature often prompted his worries for his friends. "I do hope she gets away from any ice worms. We saw wot they can do on the Åland telly, and the humans barely got away with their skins. Poor Hunter wouldn't stand a chance."
Time to divert again. "Yeah, she was a good kid. Speaking of, did you realize that we passed one of the few good things in New Jersey, the old Fort Lee Movie Studios?"
The tactic worked. "Movies! I love movies! Wot sort of movies? Were there musicals and, and comedies?"
Hoo boy. Skipper dug deep into what he usually sifted from his stash of intel. "Babe, this was before movies had sound, but Kowalski listed a bunch of slam bang titles that Phil read to him, like Saved From The Titanic" --- Private made a distressed sound --- "The Shooting of Dan McGrew" --- Private whimpered softly --- "oh yeah, and The Bluebird, you know the one about finding the Bluebird of Happiness in your own habitat." Skipper grew quiet after seeing Private's smile back in place.
"Anythin' wrong?"
"Sing Sing Prison on the east shore right over there" --- Skipper pointed --- "reminds me that we passed Gacy's cell at some point. I didn't point it out when the Newark Northern State Animal Prison hove into view, or would have hoved if it weren't so dark tonight."
Private's voice took on solemnity. "He's safely behind bars. He'll never threaten you again, sir."
Skipper twitched at the 'sir.' "I don't want to think about him or even list him as a nemesis like Blowhole. If he'd gone through with his plans, or, or if he and his gang played The Game with me as the --- "
Private muffled the pained remembrance with a kiss. "It didn't happen. Manfredi and Johnson wouldn't have stood for it, all right?"
Skipper was in deeper memory than he generally allowed. "Two of them versus eight braaping gangbangers, I dunno, Private, what chance --- "
Another kiss. "Didn't happen, wouldn't have, couldn't have. Remember how K'walski, Rico and me joined in the battle? And that's that. He'll not swim under the sun again, ever. He and his bloody gang likely got treatment in prison and aren't even in gangs anymore."
"Young Private, you inspire me." Skipper kissed back at last. "I've missed this. New Jersey be damned, I like this." They breathed as one.
Private took Skipper's flipper. "Mmmm, well, New Jersey must get a few blinkin' things right, like the Bluebird movie. It's a sweet story, just a Lunacorns episode before its time." He brought the flipper up for a kiss. A minute later, the two birds lay entwined as the Hudson burbled a love song to accompany their petting. Hurrying with the passion of youth into the point of their entire trip, Private skimmed Skipper out of the backpack and unfastened its closure to delve directly for the dildo. "I declare the hiatus over with --- "
A car honked in the distance. Skipper wiped his beak and sat up. He turned a laugh into a discreet cough before blocking the questing flipper. "Aw, Private. I don't want to start something here. Cool off, I'm impatient, too, but this isn't what I had in mind for us --- "
" --- let me make a more romantic atmosphere, I packed eight glow sticks they can be candles --- "
The commander commanded, but gently. "Babe. No. I'm not in the mood."
Private rolled away to face the piling, hugging himself as a sparse amount of cars droned east and west on the useful part of the new bridge. He panted. "But I'm horny!"
Skipper couldn't laugh at that aching statement without sounding callous, and he wasn't, really he wasn't. "I'm sorry. We'll have times like this --- "
"You've spoiled me, always bein' ready day and night, and now I --- I --- I --- oh oh no --- " The young penguin betrayed his years by choking out hurgh huh ooooh splprsh and then easing onto his back again with a sigh. "Well, that's finished me and I didn't even touch my willie. Let's head into the water again to rinse --- wot are you doin'?"
Skipper bent to clean his love. "You'd do the same for me. Hush and take five."
IOIOIOIOIO
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Undertow