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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/?
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- 44
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- 46
The two humans appeared oblivious to anyone but themselves as strong lights from the mecha lit the caverns. A universal joint where the ramp telescoped out from the chassis ensured that the ramp leveled to any surface where its end finally rested; the whole effect was dizzying, and tracking Francis Alberta and her companion made Private and Skipper slew their heads to the right. After the jolting earth slippage preceded their near drowning, their sense of balance glitched. Skipper heard Private stumble and then adjust his footing, thank the Endless Iceberg; he dared not risk a glance behind him to check.
Skipper studied their sitrep as he awaited developments. The lights jutting from the squat horizontal lines of the mecha's smaller dimension resembled laser swords, which was uncanny. How did they do it? Wait, wait, didn't Kowalski and his twenty-four views of Star Wars and its fanlore contribute to a general ordnance meeting one time last year, way before Fasta Island, saying that lightsabers operated in a loop with magnetism or other geeky science to compress the light into a cylinder, no, hold on, that was Hippie Theory 101 and Kowalski was many things, but a hippie he was not, just ask Doris -
Skipper considered the big picture as he compared the housings emitting the laser swords to two of Marlene's nipples while the two non-penguins swayed at the bottom of the ramp until regaining their balance. The man stood with widely planted bare feet the size of Tony Hawks' smallest Birdhouse skateboard and Frances Alberta leaned heavily on the chassis.
"Frawnces get it right next time." Skipper noticed that the man's raspy voice appeared to strengthen Frances Alberta. She drew herself up after clearing her throat.
"Ogún help me, that was the wildest ride I've ever given anyone and it's no excuse that we got loofy dancing the boogaloo at the guemilere." She fingered a blonde strand dangling down her forehead. "Not to mention the drumming we aced." She smiled impishly. "I still don't know how my hair returned to its natural color. Was that some kingly magic you worked on me?"
There were lacings of humor in the reply that Skipper heard but did not understand. What was going on between these two? "If Frawnces says so, it must be so."
"Someday I'll figure you out, Moley, but that day is not today." She rolled her shoulders with a wince. "Umph, driving the Mrsdm takes lots of strength and I used up mine frugging the night away with you."
The strange man covered his yawn with a palm that two members of the team could have stood upon. "Fun." He lay in a fetal curl on the ramp with a sigh and then patted the space beside him while wiggling his toes.
"Not here, m'man. You're tough as an aye-aye's fingernails, but I want a bed softer than the gravel we've been sleeping on. Let's level out the Mrsdm and get some rest inside." The driver or pilot or whatever he was grunted before doing a nip up with coiled strength that Skipper admired. The man rose from his squat to rub at his back. "Sorry to bounce you around inside the cabin, Moley. I lost my driving reflexes since I've not owned a car in two years."
The one called Moley passed his hand in front of his eyes. He looked straight at the two birds and rubbed his temples. "I see dead ytll."
"What's that mean? I can't see anyth- " Then Skipper saw that she spotted them. She gasped. "Where are we?" She swiveled her head around the quarry's expanse. In the forty-foot diameter halo generated by the mecha's powerful lights, their drama unfolded as if on a stage. "We're still at Howe, but penguins, how, how - "
"Frawnces dizzy." Moley cupped her elbow, but Frances shrugged him off.
"Penguins down here, how can it be - wait, the one penguin, that brawny body shape, he's, he's, I know him - "
Skipper and Private remained at battle position, attention focused laser-like on their old enemy. The stasis appeared to unnerve Frances.
"He's the one - what - I can't even - you drank more red wine than me - " She made to step off the ramp as Moley detained her.
"Frawnces careful."
"It looks shallow, the water won't slop over my boots, I'll be all right - "
"Gravel maybe have sinkholes now. Frawnces not penguin."
She plucked his hand from her upper arm. "They're only animals, Moley, so whatever reason the orichas brought us together must be important - "
"Whash?"
Skipper realized anew that the man smelled mostly human; it was the inhuman part that worried him. What if the man could, could - there wasn't enough paranoia in the world to explain this - Skipper wished that Private were not here. These were deeper waters than they had planned to vacation in.
"Don't make me kick you to the curb again, lady." Of course, she wouldn't understand animal speech but it was imperative not to give ground, even underground. Skipper heard Private growl from three steps behind him, a startling anomaly in his love.
"Skippa, take care! They are bendin' light and who knows wot else they can do!" Until he turned to make eye contact, Skipper did not realize that he was so attuned to his love that he shivered in time with him at this astounding news. He turned back around and looked closer.
It was true; the topside lights from the mecha appeared bright enough to be lasers and as they hit the drips falling that were thick enough to be called a curtain, the beams looked like they bent like melting candle wax, seeming to follow the flow down to the ground where they splattered out of existence.
"Mystical," Skipper muttered. The word sprang to his beak from an unknown source and he repeated it. "Mystical. Private, we're in for I don't know what. Stay frosty."
Private whispered, "We could use Routine Fifty-Three right about now."
Routine Fifty-Three comprised one irreplaceable element: Rico. The routine's full name was Rico Does Something Crazy. "Yeah," whispered Skipper back. "Yeah."
"All right, you two, what are you doing here?" Frances Alberta's voice started out levelly enough. "I'm not a zookeeper anymore, thanks to you scamps."
"Frawnces?"
"That's correct, Moley. The big one messed me up but good."
Skipper heard placating tones next. "Frawnces mad. Calm down, drzhp."
"Has anybody in the history of the world, underground, above ground, or stratospheric outer space ever calmed down when someone said calm down?" Uh oh, not good. Not good at all.
Skipper had dealt with tantrums from both females and males and he realized that Frances Alberta neared a meltdown. "Private - "
"I know, Skippa. I know. She's buildin' up steam. I'm ready for wotever comes next."
Private and Skipper braced themselves when Frances Alberta smacked away Moley's ample hands and began to scream.
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Undertow