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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/?
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- 46
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- 48
Frances' heart sped from zero to sixty miles per hour in three seconds. The meek prayer to seek Eleggua's aid fled her head as all her senses became one in a gravitational singularity: she saw how the energy protecting the hmdo from touching water thinned or maybe shorted out on a breadbox-sized space where it coated one blade, she heard Moley's untranslated mutterings that probably meant calm down, woman, she smelled what might be lubricant smoking from the troublesome paddle, she tasted a foul belch from their meal of hutia and red wine, and she felt Moley harden against her tailbone. Added to these was a sixth sense, that of a mystical event hovering just behind her. She tossed her head back to contemplate the ceiling silently because it was just her in her head, no oricha yet, although her faith did not waver that there would be, and soon.
Frances spied a drip from a stalactite twenty feet up make its way in slow motion towards the paddle. In her hyperaware state, the drip sparkled its way down through the laser lights, picking up speed and when it hit the leaf-shaped blade, displaced air and a hmmfshpfffpop rocked her backward against Moley's chest. Purple puffs of reactive rubidium bubbled like soap suds and the resemblance to purple soan papdi was uncanny. Purple fumes billowed.
Frances felt only rage for revenge, not at all like what Godmother Felicity would have approved of. This rage was unrelated to Santeria's philosophy of multiple feelings blooming side by side in the rain forest of life, because the feeling burned incandescent and lonely. "You! Penguin! You ruined my life! I'll get you for that!"
Moley clasped his right wrist with his left hand about her waist. "Frawnces!"
"Stop, Moley! Let me go!"
The object of her fury danced backwards, looking uncertainly behind him. Oh ho, he protected the smaller bird? Frances heard penguin sounds from her nemesis and an answering skrawk from the other bird. She struggled against Moley's grip. He neither restrained her arms or her anger, but he remained rocklike while he steadied her on the ramp's incline. Her heightened senses applied to him, too, because she felt him harden further. Goodness, was this confrontation arousing him to such a degree?
Never mind. This was her revenge and she called on the orichas now that Eleggua did his part. "Oshosi, getting even and getting justice is your domain! Chango! You command lightning! Come to my aid in Ogún's realm! Blast these birds!" Orichas deserved a reason to display their strength, Godmother Felicity hinted many times. "I will sacrifice them both to you! Do this and let me rightly give respect! Hear me! Do it now! Get them!"
Watery drips came faster, undoubtedly jarred by the first explosion. The Mrsdm's corner laser beams tried to pierce the curtains of moisture only to bend down like wheat fields before a Nebraska tornado. Popshzzls from water hitting rubidium infused in pollucite grew in frequency as Frances shrieked like Oyá. Within the ring of Moley's grasp, she jumped and flung her head and a sharp observer would say that she twerked against him. "Oyá, sit on my head, possess me now!"
The penguins backed off, still with flippers in attack position. For the sake of every heaven that existed, could Oyá grant Frances' demand for power even down here, where there was no wind for her to gather? Since she hadn't brought a seedpod to rattle to invoke Oyá, could that make a difference in tactics?
Frances hyperventilated. Wait, wait! Godmother Felicity hinted one time, with a surreptitious look around, that eggun might work faster than an oricha because the eggun were spirits of the dead who once were alive. They would understand a living person's problems better and be hotter and quicker to help, not to mince words. The option served best in an emergency, and this situation qualified.
"Oyá! Bring out your dead!" Frances gasped out and before she thought it through, she called "Mom! Help me!" from the depths of her heart. Oyá would be the middleman of the deal and the dead would crush Frances' enemies, even the smaller penguin who had done her no harm personally - wait again. Something was not right.
How would Oyá deploy her army of the dead? W-Would Mom be drafted into that army? Did the orichas take prisoners? Did they kill? Would Mom be ordered to kill? Would she do it to make her child happy? Could she live with herself afterwards? Oh right, Mom was already dead, well ... could she exist in the afterlife as contented as she had sounded in her visit with her daughter, anyway?
Frances chilled to her core. Revenge never would be worth hurting her mother in any way, shape or form. Not even once. She came within a hair of calling everything off, of admitting she'd gone too far and begging forgiveness as a relative newcomer to Santeria, when the sense of slipping into a familiar, warm winter hoodie spread over her as it had at other times like these when orichas possessed her.
It was too late to quit now. Confused images played before her mind's eye: constructing the Genderblender, laughing with Dexter, clapping to the Dragon Dance at the the Festival of Awakening Insects From Hibernation to go along with the crowd, and lying on her memory foam mattress at home as she mused where this thing she had with Moley would take her eventually.
Frances tasered her brain for options as words joined the images to spin before coalescing. Kaiju? Where would kaiju take her? Kaiju might be her relationship to the penguins because of her huge size as compared to them. Another word popped up, mecha, mecha like the Mrsdm, which could smear them to red pulp, or even Genderblender because an Osterizer stylized into sculpture sort of resembled mecha. What about a lengthy, more satisfying fate for them? Finally an alternative to death-dealing swift destruction presented itself. She jammed the idea firmly into the Plan B slot, because Plan A was just too satisfying in the immediate future. She clung to both ideas and hoped to express them to whoever this oricha was before she passed into temporary oblivion.
She calmed a trifle as she prepared to faint into the unknown, but things were different this time.
How unheard of that her psyche did not fade with the possession but retained awareness of her actions.
How strange.
How delicious.
How much she owed Oyá! How could she show gratitude - wait, the iruke lay in the water some yards away. Frances made do with swirling her arms like Hurricane Maria over her head, jumping and screeching. Her howls echoed through the caverns and Moley might have muttered something against her ear, but she paid him no mind as she flexed her spiritual muscles. No, it wasn't Oyá or Ogún or Oshosi or Ochún possessing her, it was the fiercest, angriest oricha, it was Oyá's lover, it was, it was -
"Chango! Fry them! Change them into what pleases you!" She had in mind two fricasseed corpses if Chango unleashed his full power down here in Plan A.
She could live with that.
Santeria respected restraint as well as fervor, and so Santeria thwarted Frances Alberta's darker Plan A desires and substituted quirkier Plan B; Frances would speculate upon the results for years to come.
Upon jumping onto Moley's bare toes in her frenzy, he grunted and stumbled sideways against the Mrsdm, sending a tremor through the deceptively delicate paddle. A ceiling drip coincided with his movement, hit the paddle, and a spark flew outwards.
One little penguin crossed its path.
IOIOIOIOIO
- 46
- 47
- 48
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Undertow